#pay no mind to the names of us in the system

[hoe4hotchner]

Drawer | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Gn!reader CW: Fluff. Haley is still alive in this one… but they're divorced and she's not mentioned, so don't worry about her. WC: 0.8k

This is part of #Teddy-ber hosted by @angellsell

           The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clinking of plates as you set the table. The sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, making everything feel cozy and safe. You glanced over at the small drawer beside the fridge, the one neither of you opened often, yet always ended up filling with random things. You smiled, shaking your head. The infamous junk drawer - every home had one, but yours and Aaron's had its own kind of charm.

           It all started off simple, as these things often do. A place for the odd rubber band, a spare battery, maybe a pen or two. But over time, it grew, much like your relationship with him, becoming a repository for memories, a snapshot of your life together in the most ordinary and yet extraordinary way.

           You wandered over to the drawer, giving in to the curiosity, and pulled it open. The first thing that caught your eye was a tiny, half-used notepad. You chuckled, remembering how Aaron had tried to create a system and used it to make a grocery list - once. His tidy handwriting took up the first half of the page: Apples, cereal, milk, eggs. The essentials. Then came your scribbles, messier but full of character: Chocolate, wine, ice cream. It was a small, unspoken dance between the two of you, his practicality meeting your indulgence. He’d teased you about your sweet tooth but always made sure to grab a bar of your favorite chocolate when he went to the store.

           Underneath the notepad was an old, crinkled paperclip. Nothing special at first glance, but you knew better. This particular clip had been straightened and twisted into some sort of abstract shape during one of Aaron’s late-night phone calls with the director. He had a habit of fiddling with things when he was deep in thought or conversation, his mind constantly running through strategies, cases, and plans. The paperclip had against all odds survived that night and ended up in the drawer, tossed in with the rest of the forgotten oddities.

           There was a small collection of mismatched pens, each one with a different origin story. One from the BAU, with the FBI logo fading from years of use. Another, much nicer, one with Rossi’s name engraved on the side - a Christmas gift that had mysteriously disappeared from Aaron’s desk only to reappear here. You smiled, remembering how Rossi had teased Aaron about it, accusing him of misplacing gifts as though they were case files.

           Digging a little deeper, you found a crumpled-up ticket stub. It was from a movie you and Aaron had seen early on in your relationship, on one of your rare date nights - some action thriller that neither of you had really been paying attention to. You had been too busy watching him try to relax and stop worrying about work. His arm curled around your shoulders as the tension slowly left his body. It was one of those evenings where he let himself enjoy life, and in that dark theater, you’d felt closer to him than ever. The ticket had ended up in his pocket, and then, eventually, in the drawer.

           You picked up an old keychain, shaped like a miniature Swiss Army knife. It was a gag gift from Morgan after a particularly tough case where Aaron somehow had managed to improvise his way out of a tricky situation (or so you'd been told) with nothing but a pen and a piece of string. Morgan had joked about Aaron being the new MacGyver, and the keychain had become a running joke between the two - until it, too, found its way into the drawer, no longer needed but still a significant memory.

           Near the back, half-buried under a mess of receipts and old to-do lists, you found something that made your heart swell - a small, child-sized sock. You chuckled softly, knowing exactly whose it was. Jack had spent the night a few weeks ago, and somehow, one of his socks had gone missing. You’d found it in the laundry and tossed it in the drawer, intending to return it but never getting around to it. The little sock was a reminder of the nights when Jack slept over, filling the house with his laughter and questions. Aaron was always softer when Jack was around, his face lighting up in ways that were rare for the composed man you knew.

           As you looked over the contents of the drawer, you realized that it was more than just a place for random objects. It was a reflection of your life with Aaron - the little moments that made up your days together, the way your personalities meshed in the most unexpected ways. His neatness contrasted with your occasional chaos, his seriousness balanced by your lightheartedness. And in the middle of it all, this drawer - a quiet testament to the life you were building together, one forgotten pen and grocery list at a time.

           You smiled, closing the drawer with a soft click, knowing that someday it would fill up even more. But for now, it was a comforting, endearing mess - much like love itself.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty-Five

Ongoing Silco x fem!reader fic (no reader description, no use of 'Y/N')

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,800

Warnings: Fear, insecurity, break-in, threats to personal safety, mob mentality, time skips, guns, bludgeoning weapons, veiled threats, references to sex as a form of payment, drug references, mentions of previous bribery

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---

You were woken by the sound of bells ringing. 

There was no bell system at the Haven for patients to alert that they needed attention - though in the part of your mind that wasn’t focused on getting dressed, it wasn’t a bad idea - so that wasn’t what had launched you out of bed before you had fully woken up. 

No, the bells were the temporary, low-cost security system you had put into place when Silco had pulled his guards away from the Haven. 

Since Silco had decided to use the knowledge of your connection to destroy your life, you had never been sure what the security guards were there to do. Were they a parting gift, meant to console you as you adjusted to a less-protected life in the Undercity? Were they meant to keep an eye on you and report back to Silco? Were they just waiting until the most devastating possible moment to leave? 

It was your best guess that the last possibility was closest to the truth. HexTech had taken over financial support of the Haven after most of the other donors had withdrawn their contributions, but they were a young company. They didn’t have the money to support themselves and pay for external expenses like security guards. You had just been thrilled to be funded, so you had agreed to those terms. 

A little over a week later, Silco had pulled his security guards from the Haven. 

One of the two in-house doctors had resigned the next day. His safety could not be guaranteed without guards. The other doctor had stayed, but he was running himself ragged trying to help all the patients through withdrawal alone.

The original Haven staff would have been able to help - most of them had seen enough to function as makeshift medics when absolutely necessary - but they had long since left. The scandal of you accepting donations from Silco had been too much for most of them, and the others hadn’t been able to handle the increased stress of the new workload. 

In short, the Haven was still afloat, but you were left trying to cover large gaps in staffing, services, and security. Hence the bells. 

You had installed bells over every external door to the Haven, plus a few trip wires and pressure plates that would ring a bell in your room if they were set off. Residents and the new staff knew where the wires and plates were so they could avoid activating them. It wasn’t a particularly elegant system, but it was enough for you to know when someone was in the Haven who didn’t belong there. 

As was currently the case. 

A baseball bat was your only protection as you moved down the stairs as quietly as possible. There was a dim light coming from under the door in the front room, the door slightly ajar. That was what had set off the bells in your room, then. 

With the baseball bat up and over your shoulder, you gently toed the door open and stepped inside. 

You halted almost immediately, startled by the way you had been greeted by name. “Yi? Fletcher?” 

Fletcher had rushed toward you, handsome face happy, but he paused before he got within touching distance of you. “Are you okay? What’s with the bat?” 

“We don’t have security anymore,” you explained shortly. “Never knew when someone is going to break in.” 

“That’s why we’re here,” Yi explained. “The lack of security, not to break in.” 

Your tired brain was struggling to make sense of that. “What-? What does that mean?” 

“Can we sit down?” a vaguely familiar young man requested. You hadn’t spotted him behind Yi and Fletcher, but he seemed to be the last member of the group.

Wordlessly, you motioned them through the door into the kitchen, then followed them inside as they sat at the small table at one side of the room. 

“We heard the Haven doesn’t have security anymore,” Yi explained. “We all wanted to come back and help out.” 

“Why?” you asked, helpless to disguise the suspicion in your voice. 

The familiar man glanced at Yi and Fletcher, then spoke. “I don’t know if you remember me, ma’am. I was part of the security detail that Silco assigned to the Haven.” 

You secrets had been laid bare, exposed before the entirety of Piltover, but you still cringed at the casual way he announced your connection to Silco. “Yes, I remember you. You were fairly new. I don’t know if I ever met you officially.” 

“Okkan,” he volunteered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Nice to officially meet you, then.” 

“Likewise, as long as Silco didn’t send you so he could have someone inside of the Haven,” you countered, voice a little too sharp to be considered polite.

Okkan’s face grew grave. “It’s too late for that. He’s had people here all along. If you haven’t seen him here yet, it’s because he hasn’t wanted you to.” 

Fletcher touched gentle fingertips to Okkan’s arm. “That’s probably not as helpful as you meant it to be.” 

With a sheepish grimace, Okkan nodded. “I’m sorry, that was supposed to prove that you can trust me. My point is, Silco has no reason to send me here as a plant since he already has people doing that. I don’t work for him anymore.”

“Then why are you here?” 

Okkan shrugged. “This is the right thing to do.” 

You hummed suspiciously, glancing at Fletcher and Yi. “And you two?” 

“I need to make sure my boyfriend doesn’t die fighting off anyone who might attack the Haven,” Fletcher told you. Yi and Okkan both snorted - Fletcher’s skills with combat were as limited as everyone else’s, but augmented with a rich vein of jumpiness and a hatred of blood and dirt. 

Yi answered your question with ease, offering it as soon as your eyes rested on her. “I like an underdog.” 

You sighed, trying to bury the surge of relief coursing through you. It wasn’t fair to take advantage of them. At least, unless they specifically knew what they were agreeing to. 

“If you’re looking for a fight, there are good odds you’ll find it here,” you warned. “Silco has made it clear that he considers the Haven a detriment to his plans for the Undercity. I haven’t seen any signs of an attack yet, but the fact that he pulled the security guards away from here is hardly a good sign. I need to know that you’re aware of the dangers of being here. More importantly, that you know the dangers of being on my side. 

“We all know,” Yi assured you. “Okkan was very blunt about the things he saw as part of Silco’s crew.” 

“More importantly, we know you,” Fletcher insisted. “You were always good to everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it. That’s worth something, even if everyone in the city seems to have forgotten it.” 

You nodded. It seemed like the safest choice. You didn’t trust your voice not to crack if you tried to speak. 

By the time you had stood from your chair and crossed to the door, you had recovered enough to say, “You’re welcome to stay, then. Pick any rooms in the employee quarters. Most of it is empty, so you have options. Goodnight. Thank you.” 

—

Unfortunately, the new arrivals didn’t have to wait long for the fight you had promised. 

The break-in happened at night. You had always suspected that it would - after all, that was the time of day when the Undercity residents were the most active. 

The chiming of the bells was desperate and chaotic, nearly masked by the scuffing feet you could hear throughout the first floor of the building. You had been awake late, sacrificing hours of sleep in favor of writing grant requests and reports for the few grants you had left. The Haven’s progress had slowed significantly since your association with Silco had been made public, and you were struggling to frame the work you had done in the most positive light possible. 

You had drilled every resident of the Haven with what the sound of the bells meant. All the doors on the lower floors were locked when you ran down the stairs, clenching the grip of your bat in your fist. If even one of the residents managed to remember what you had taught them to do, they were trying to contact the Enforcers.

There were more intruders than you could hope to take on alone. Getting an accurate count was impossible in the gloom, but you counted at least eight. They saw you immediately, watching as you came to a stop a few stairs above the ground floor. 

You cleared your throat, letting the bat dangle at your side. “What do you want?” 

“Shimmer.” 

The answer - called from somewhere in the crowd - made you snort rudely. “You seem to have missed the fact that this is an anti-Shimmer establishment.” 

“Addictions are treated with microdoses of the drug,” one of them pointed out. “We’re here for any Shimmer you have.” 

“Well-informed,” you noted. “Except that Shimmer addictions can’t be treated with the drug. It takes over the central nervous system, even in small amounts. There is no Shimmer here, microdoses or otherwise.” 

“Then maybe we’ll tear this place down,” another threatened. “That’ll send a message to Silco.” 

Your heart was in your throat, but you did your best to keep it from being too obvious. “And why would you do that? In case you hadn’t heard, Silco doesn’t have anything to do with this place. Not anymore.” 

“No, but he did.” One woman stepped forward, eyeing you suspiciously. “The Shimmer left this place all at once. It was right around when Silco gave you that money. I think that’s important. It means something.” 

You stared at her. “You are too smart to waste your mind on Shimmer. But no, it doesn’t mean anything. Silco bribed me with money. He didn’t need to get rid of Shimmer to bribe me a second time.” 

“Silco is part of this place,” a large man told you. “Either he hates you and wants it destroyed or he still cares and losing it would make him weak.” 

“You should probably figure out whether you’re trying to give the drug lord a gift or a threat before you do it,” you warned, tightening your grip on the bat. “He’s erratic at the best of times, and you might not like the reaction you get.” 

From the dissatisfied murmur of the crowd, that was a valid point, but one they didn’t want to acknowledge. You weren’t sure how to proceed. Letting them tear down the Haven wasn’t an option, but telling them to leave might be the thing that pushed them into violence. 

The decision was taken away from you when someone grabbed the baseball bat, using it to tow you forward. You stumbled down the stairs, catching yourself only to be pulled into the depths of the crowd. The baseball bat was ripped away from you almost immediately, thrown to clatter across the room. 

Immediately, there were shouts of encouragement to kill you. Your pulse was roaring in your ears and you struggled to hear past it. The crowd seemed to agree that Silco may or may not care about the Haven, but he certainly didn’t seem to like you. 

You tried to free yourself - it would be stupid not to, when they were audibly planning your death. But there were so many hands. Hands on your hips, hands on your waist, hands on your arms. All of them gripped you tightly, leaving bruises in your skin. You could only hope you would live long enough for them to heal. 

“Kill her,” the large man ordered. He was the loudest, which you assumed made him some kind of authority in a crowd like this. “Everyone else, strip this place for anything you can find. Burn the rest.” 

“Should she die fast?” the woman who had spoken earlier asked. The way her eyes studied you sent a chill up your spine. “Or slow?” 

“Slow.” 

The hands squeezed tighter, trying to lead you deeper into the Haven. You fought them, squirming and kicking as you shouted for them to leave you alone. 

“Let her go!” 

Yi’s voice was the sweetest thing you had ever heard. A close second was when she swung your confiscated bat into the knee of the group’s leader.

He screamed in pain, dropping to the floor. One of the people holding you glared up at Yi. “You can’t fight all of us. Not and win.” 

“We aren’t looking for a fight,” Okkan countered. You searched around the room for a moment before you found him standing in front of the door that led to the residents’ rooms. “Between the three of us, we can stop any hope of whatever you all planned to do.” 

For a wild moment, you thought he was counting you as one of the three people who would stop the fight, but you were still held firmly in place. Okkan nodded toward the stairs and you saw Fletcher there, holding another gun. 

Yi brandished her bat, holding it over her shoulder as if ready to take her next swing. Fletcher was aiming his small handgun at the crowd, hands steady. Okkan was holding a gun that looked almost as big as he was. It looked dangerous, and not purely because of its size. 

Okkan cocked the gun loudly, aiming at the crowd. “Time for you to leave.” 

“Fine, we’ll go,” the leader said, standing. It was clear that putting weight on his leg was painful, but he was still an imposing figure. “But we’re taking her with us.” 

To your surprise, a gunshot came from the top of the stairs, putting a neat hole in the doorframe beside one of your would-be kidnappers. 

Yi twirled the bat in her hand. “No.” 

“That was your only warning,” Okkan explained, a menacing smile shining bright in the gloomy room. 

The attackers were gone in a moment, leaving you sprawled on the floor. Ridiculously, the first thing that came to mind was, “Fletcher, I didn’t know you could shoot that well.” 

Fletcher grinned. “I’m not very threatening and I can’t fight. How else did you think I survived in the Undercity so long?” 

You were spared the need to respond when Okkan helped you to your feet. “We need to prepare for another attack.” 

You frowned, running your thumb over the fresh bullet hole in your doorframe. “Are you sure? It seems like you all scared them pretty badly.” 

Okkan shook his head. “Those people broke in. They’re not part of Silco’s group. If random people on the street feel safe breaking into the Haven, that means that word about Silco’s lack of protection has spread. The attacks are just going to happen more often from here. And they’re more likely to get more violent, as well.”

“I don’t have the money for security,” you reminded him. Much as you tried to keep the state of the Haven’s finances from Okkan, Fletcher, and Yi, they had picked it up over the previous weeks. 

“But there are other things we can do,” Yi argued. “Move more people into the upper floors, gather together the ones who can’t climb stairs. We’ll put a sturdier door between their rooms and the main areas. One person on guard would be able to lock the door when there’s a break-in.” 

“And a few more guns wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Fletcher told you, locking the safety on his own handgun. 

You nodded. “Let’s get it done.” 

—

The changes you were making to the Haven weren’t exactly secret, especially since Yi, Okkan, and Fletcher told anyone and everyone that there were even more security advancements to come. 

You knew what it was - posturing. By talking openly about the defenses in place and positioning themselves as guardians of the Haven, they were discouraging people from attacking without doing so in a way that would seem too close to a dare. 

It was clever, though you all knew that moving patients, adding a door, and buying additional weapons were the extent of your security planning. Still, it seemed to be working. Two weeks had passed since the break-in and you hadn’t had a scare in that time. Maybe any would-be attackers were waiting for you to get comfortable and lax, but you were hopeful that the Haven simply seemed like more trouble than it was worth. 

All of your optimism disappeared in an instant as you stepped into your office late one night. You couldn’t keep up the pace you had been, but you were fairly certain you could manage one more night of grant-writing before you collapsed into an exhausted heap. 

The figure sitting at your desk made you jump, though the lit lamp on your desk should have been the first clue that you had a visitor. 

“Close the door, pet,” Silco commanded. “We need to talk.”

You dropped your hand from where it had reflexively pressed over your heart. It was difficult to glare at someone when they could see how badly they had just frightened you. “I’ve already said everything I needed to say, Silco. And you’ve already said everything I was willing to listen to.” 

He smirked. “I have missed your backbone, darling.” 

“That’s nice.” You pointedly held the door open, waiting for him to leave. 

Instead, Silco sat forward, leaning his elbows on the surface of your deks so he could study you more intently. “You can imagine how relieved I was to hear that you survived the first attack on the Haven.” 

You didn’t remember closing the door, but the sound of it slamming beside you was unmistakable. “First.” 

Silco nodded at the word you had repeated. “I am certain you are clever enough to know that more attacks will come.” 

“And I’m sure your memory is good enough to remember that this is the second time the Haven has been attacked,” you countered. “However, we handled this one far more effectively than the last.” 

Silco inclined his head in a silent concession of your point. “You defended yourselves admirably. But will you manage the same next time? And the time after?” 

“I’m sure there’s a purpose to this conversation.” You glanced outside of the window, using the brightness of the neon signs against the darkening sky to gauge the time. “The Last Drop must be open by now. You have a business to run and I need to get back to mine. Make your point.”

“I am here to offer my assistance, of course,” Silco said smoothly. “It would be simple enough to reassign a security detail to the Haven.”

Your laugh was unintentional, but you didn’t mind it. It was a sharp, ugly sound, leaving no doubt about the sincerity of your amusement. “Considering all of this started because of you, I can’t say I’m inclined to accept your help.” 

Silco tilted his head, a dangerous flash of irritation crossing his face. “I am not the one who tried to defect to Piltover.”

“Defect?” you repeated. “Much as you want to believe in it, Zaun isn’t a real, recognized city. Right now, this place is just the lower half of Piltover - looked down on by the Upper City, if they think of it at all. And you ensured that they have no representation in the government.” 

“We do not need the scraps that Piltover deigns to give us,” Silco decreed. “We will demand the respect and status we are owed, as full equals.”

“And when will that happen?” You shook your head. “I think, if it were possible, you would have done it by now. Piltover is unaffected by the horrors of life in the Undercity, as strong as it ever was. More so, actually, if HexTech’s plans work out. Meanwhile, the people of the Undercity are eroded by pollution, mine accidents, and Shimmer. If there was ever a time when the Undercity could demand anything, it passed a long time ago.” 

Silco snarled. “The people of Zaun were cowed by their failures when they should have used them to spur renewed efforts. The next generation-” 

“The one who survives on the scraps that Piltover deigns to give the Undercity?” The sigh that escaped you was less irritated than you hoped, sounding almost mournful. “They are fighting too hard to survive to worry about a revolution.” 

“Zaun-” Silco paused, visibly collecting himself. He smoothed his hair back as he stepped around the corner of your desk. “I have diverted from my original point. Regardless of the myriad reasons we find ourselves here, I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.” 

You snorted. “Have you forgotten how our last ‘mutually beneficial agreement’ went?” 

The back of Silco’s fingers brushed lightly down the length of your arm. You tracked their progress before looking up at Silco, who was watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. “Darling, I have thought of little else these past weeks.” 

Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. The instant your lips parted around a shaky breath, Silco closed the gap between you.

The touch of his lips against yours was achingly familiar and your body relaxed into the kiss without asking permission from your mind. And considering that he avoided kissing you as long as he had, Silco was shockingly good at it. He knew when to push, when to let you lead, and when to encourage you to deepen the kiss. 

And, to your dismay, you did exactly that. 

Somewhere along the line, the kiss had turned into something deep and desperate. Your hands roamed across his body as his did the same to yours. He felt wonderfully solid beneath your searching fingers, and you finally admitted to yourself that you had missed him. 

Perhaps it was because you had trained your body to expect to be fully satiated at least once a month for longer than you had ever expected. Perhaps it was because such a long time had passed since you had been touched by anyone else. Perhaps - unlikely and abhorrent as it was - you had started to grow fond of Silco. 

In any case, you gasped when his trailing fingers skated over the curve of one breast, rubbing unerringly against your nipple before he continued on a steady path downward. You pulled away from him when you heard the desperation of your moan, the fresh air of the room hitting you like a dash of cold water. 

“No,” you murmured, repeating it louder  when Silco started to tow you back to him. When had you entangled your fingers with his? “No, this isn’t- We have to stop.” 

“Why would we ever do something so foolish?” Silco asked, reluctantly letting your fingers slip out from between his. “I have missed you, pet. Have you not missed me?” 

“You-” You cleared your throat. “You came here for a reason, Silco. You were going to make me an offer of some kind. What was it?” 

“I have already made my offer,” he reminded you, dual gaze piercing. “I will reassign security to the Haven.”

You nodded slowly. “And what are you asking in return?” 

Silco spread his hands out to either side of himself. “Renewed access to your delectable body, of course.” 

Of course. As if it were clear without explanation, undeniable and irresistible. And it nearly was, damn him. You could keep the Haven safe, protect your people. In return, you only had to give him something you wanted him to have, anyway. 

You swayed. 

It was an ugly trait for a philanthropist, someone determined to minimize the amount of evil that existed in the world. Your ideals were so high, but you were only human. You wanted nothing more than to let Silco slake the terrible thirst that had overtaken your body. You wanted to fall back into the routine you had become so accustomed to. It would be so easy, so safe, so familiar. You ached for it. 

But at the same time, the thought of it made you recoil. For all that your relationship with Silco had gone better than expected - mostly because you had expected to die at the end - you’d had plenty of time to analyze it since your life had started to spiral. Your time together had gone as smoothly as it had because there was a profound power imbalance between you. When issues came up, they were resolved because you were paying him to keep Shimmer out of the Haven’s neighborhood. 

Yes, you could go back to the way things had been, but you would never find a better reason to leave. And this time, things could very well end with your death. Was this how you wanted to spend the rest of your life? Fearful and subservient because you missed sleeping with a chem baron?

Your shoulders eased as you realized that your subconscious had already made the decision for you. Silco misinterpreted it entirely, reaching to snag your hand again. 

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, drawing you closer. 

“No, Silco. I can’t.” Pulling away seemed like the most difficult thing in the world just then, but you managed it. “I can’t go back to the way things were. Not after the way everything has changed.” 

“Nothing has changed,” Silco pressed. “Nothing needs to. We can pick up precisely where we left off. The Undercity has already started to forget the news about the Haven’s donations and, under my protection once more, you can continue to impact this place the way you always wanted. Everything you want - everything we want - is waiting. The only thing you need do is agree.” 

If he had said something like that when the indecisive thoughts were swirling through your mind, you would probably be kissing again and well on your way to more. But your swaying had left you stumbling back from the edge, suddenly capable of seeing the chasm yawning just in front of your feet. 

“Thank you for the offer,” you said, taking another step back and pulling your hand away from his. “But I must decline. If you don’t mind, I have other responsibilities to which I must attend.” 

You had turned to open the door when you felt Silco’s presence behind you. The skin at the back of your neck prickled at both the knowledge that he was behind you and the sudden tension in the air of your office. 

“Dismissing me is a mistake, pet,” Silco told you. The words and tone were genial enough, but there was a sharpness in it that made your nerves thrum. “My offer is the only way to avoid the misfortunes that will fall on the Haven. There are those who will tear this place down if they are not stopped. And I’m certain you remember the last time you chose to ignore my advice about an impending attack.” 

“Security is a smart idea,” you admitted, turning as Silco’s eyes searched your face. “But I can’t pay you for it. I have no money for extraneous expenses and my body is no longer available as a form of payment. I’m not saying you’re wrong about what could happen to the Haven, but the only thing I can do is stand strong against whatever may come.” 

“This is the only time I will give you the opportunity to continue our deal,” Silco warned, Shimmer-infused eye piercing as he stared at you. “The moment I leave the Haven, we are finished. Do not be foolish.” 

You bowed your head, hoping a show of subservience would be enough to push him out of the Haven. Silco was always a little more rational when he thought that he had succeeded in making his point. “I understand that the offer is only good for right now, but unfortunately, I cannot accept. Thank you for giving me the chance to make a choice.” 

“You will regret this,” he warned, anger flashing across his scarred face as he stalked through your door and toward the front door of the Haven. 

You closed the door a moment before you collapsed against it, a fine trembling in every limb and digit. Silco always took it personally when a deal fell through. And an offended Silco liked to soothe his indignation with a little murder. You were getting better about defending yourself against attacks, but you wouldn’t bet on yourself against Silco. It was all for the best that he had left in some semblance of peace. 

As you settled to work on the piles of paperwork lying across your desk, you had to push away another twinge of regretful lust. You had done the right thing, but that didn’t make it any easier.

---

Author's Note - This was not my most elegant chapter, but I needed to show how things are progressing in the Haven and the Undercity as a whole. If it helps, every remaining chapter is one I'm very proud of. This is just my awkward little baby who had to leave home before I felt it was ready.

Anyway, thanks for reading! I'll see you next month!

[misterfynn]

cw // kidnapping, intox, heavy bdsm, honestly this one I'm letting my imagination run wild, so proceed with caution.

You woke up with a start, you could finally see again, but when you went to tried to speak, realized you were muffled by a gag. You looked around the room, only to see dimly lit space with empty walls, save for a mirror. You tried to get up, but found yourself tied down to something. It's inside you, and it feels good. *click* It turns on, and instantly you struggle to think, how did this happen? Using the last of your brain power you think back to all that has happened.

Two weeks ago you saw an ad online. "Start a new life, whatever you think you're worth, pay me and I'll increase your investment tenfold". You were skeptical, a whole new life and you just have to "pay your worth?". You figured it was worth a shot, life hadn't been kind as of late.

This dear reader, is where you can insert your own struggles. I want you to picture how nice a new life would be, no more dead end jobs, no more wasted time in classes, you could start over, be someone new. You'd like that wouldn't you? But how much do you think your current life is actually worth? I'm curious, tell me in the comments.

You recently got an extra hundred bucks you were planning to gamble away in a few weeks at the casino anyways, you figure why not give it a shot here. You send the anonymous poster the money and move on with your day. You're let down when you don't hear anything for a week, you assume you got scammed and start looking for a way to get your money back. But that's when the first email arrives.

It asks, "What kind of life do you crave?". Followed with several options, an easy life, an exciting life, or the high life. You've had enough excitement lately, easy sounds like it could be boring, so you choose the high life. Images of richers and power flash through your mind, but still skeptical this is all a scam you don't get your hopes up.

A week later you got the call, "they're on their way, leave your house at 08:30 exactly, the rest will be handled from there, welcome to your new life." The phone immediately went dead. As you were told, you started to head to work and left your house at exactly 8:30. You almost got to your car, before the masked men appeared. They roughly grabbed you, tied your arms behind your back, gagged and blindfolded you, and hauled you off to their van. You hated to admit it, but the whole thing felt straight out of a fantasy, you were wet instantly.

Then a sharp pain in your leg, like a needle stabbing you, and you don't remember much from there. You remember being in a haze, as men in masks tied you down to a surgical table. You remember blurry faces, and how wet you were when they inspected your holes. You remember the pain that you felt when the tattoo gun marked you behind your ear. Now you remember how you got to where you are now, able to see for the first time in what feels like days. Straddling something vibrating between your legs, it feels amazing you realize.

'I feel so good?' You think with a shock, whatever drugs are in your system, you secretly want them to give you more. You start bucking against what you can only assume is a Sybian. Within minutes, you've cum twice, and are begging for more when the machine stops. Another masked man walks in, he removes the gag. Before you can speak, he has placed a pill on your tongue, and placed water to your lips expecting you to swallow. You don't give it much thought before the pill is already down your throat.

"What is your name", he asks.

You try to make a word form but are unable, you weakly motion for more water.

He provides you with the water as requested, then present another opportunity.

"If I pull out my cock and you make me cum, I'll have the boys turn the machine back on for you until you're ready to start your new life, would you like that?"

Would you really stoop that low? Are you that desperate to cum? The wetness you immediately feel as he pulls out his already hardening dick gives you all the answer you need. Maybe it's the drugs, or maybe this is who you were deep inside all along. You take his cock deep in your throat. Before you know it, you're rewarded, not just with what you realize is surprisingly tasty seed, but also you get to cum again, again, and again.

The next several hours are a blur of pleasure and drugs taking a stronger hold. The higher you are, the harder you cum. Enough time has passed you feel you might be reaching your limit as another masked man enters. The machine is turned off, you are collared and leashed, and for the first time today, you get to stand on your own two shaky legs.

You're so high you can't walk straight, he helps stabilize and guide you with one hand around your neck, the other holding your hand until you're moved into a cage.

"This one's ready for auction", you hear.

"Make sure she takes one of these before being presented", the man hands the other another pill.

"And don't hesitate to crank up the power, we need her to show she's worth 10 times her investment."

Next thing you know, you're in a cage, on stage. You're so high you can barely process anything, you feel yourself drooling, you hear yourself moaning, and most importantly, you feel yourself cumming on the dildo being thrust deep inside you. It's pumping so quickly, so deep, it feels amazing. As you cum one final time, you just barely make out

"SOLD, to the man in back for one thousand dollars!".

Would you look at that, you did make ten times your investment, and you're about to start your new life!

[echohousehold]

They Told Me I Had to Put a Title Here

we are so normal about

The Amazing Digital Circus

i promise. we watched a (one) amount. we did (not) go through gooseworx tumblr to consume information about it.

there are

no

.

[fullhalalalchemist]

URGENT: 🚨🚨EARN IT ACT IS BACK IN THE SENATE 🚨🚨 TUMBLR’S NSFW BAN HITTING THE ENTIRE INTERNET THIS SUMMER 2023

April 28, 2023

I’m so sorry for the long post but please please please pay attention and spread this

What is the EARN IT Act?

The EARN IT Act (s. 1207) has been roundly condemned by nearly every major LGBTQ+ advocacy and human rights organization in the country.

This is the third time the Senate has been trying to force this through, and I talked about it last year. It is a bill that claims "protects children and victims against CSAM" by creating an unelected and politically appointed national commission of law enforcement specialists to dictate "best practices" that websites all across the nation will be forced to follow. (Keep in mind, most websites in the world are created in the US, so this has global ramifications). These "best practices" would include killing encryption so that any law enforcement can scan and see every single message, dm, photo, cloud storage, data, and any website you have every so much as glanced at. Contrary to popular belief, no they actually can't already do that. These "best practices" also create new laws for "removing CSAM" online, leading to mass censorship of non-CSAM content like what happened to tumblr. Keep in mind that groups like NCOSE, an anti-LGBT hate group, will be allowed on this commission. If websites don't follow these best practices, they lose their Section 230 protections, leading to mass censorship either way.

Section 230 is foundational to modern online communications. It's the entire reason social media exists. It grants legal protection to users and websites, and says that websites aren't responsible for what users upload online unless it's criminal. Without Section 230, websites are at the mercy of whatever bullshit regulatory laws any and every US state passes. Imagine if Texas and Florida were allowed to say what you can and can't publish and access online. That is what will happen if EARN IT passes. (For context, Trump wanted to get rid of Section 230 because he knew it would lead to mass govt surveillance and censorship of minorities online.)

This is really not a drill. Anyone who makes or consume anything “adult” and LGBT online has to be prepared to fight Sen. Blumenthal’s EARN IT Act, brought back from the grave by a bipartisan consensus to destroy Section 230. If this bill passes, we’re going to see most, if not all, adult content and accounts removed from mainstream platforms. This will include anything related to LGBT content, including SFW fanfiction, for example. Youtube, Twitter, Reddit, Tiktok, Tumblr, all of them will be completely gutted of anything related to LGBT content, abortion healthcare, resources for victims of any type of abuse, etc. It is a right-wing fascists wet dream, which is why NCOSE is behind this bill and why another name for this bill is named in reference to NCOSE.

NCOSE used to be named Morality in Media, and has rebranded into an "anti-trafficking" organization. They are a hate group that has made millions off of being "against trafficking" while helping almost no victims and pushing for homophobic laws globally. They have successfully pushing the idea that any form of sexual expression, including talking about HEALTH, leads to sex trafficking. That's how SESTA passed. Their goal is to eliminate all sex, anything gay, and everything that goes against their idea of ‘God’ from the internet and hyper disney-fy and sanitize it. This is a highly coordinated attack on multiple fronts.

The EARN IT Act will lead to mass online censorship and surveillance. Platforms will be forced to scan their users’ communications and censor all sex-related content, including sex education, literally anything lgbt, transgender or non-binary education and support systems, aything related to abortion, and sex worker communication according to the ACLU. All this in the name of “protecting kids” and “fighting CSAM”, both of which the bill does nothing of the sort. In fact it makes fighting CSEM even harder.

EARN IT will open the way for politicians to define the category of “pornography" as they — or the lobbies that fund them — please. The same way that right-wing groups have successfully banned books about race and LGBT, are banning trans people from existing, all under the guise of protecting children from "grooming and exploitation", is how they will successfully censor the internet.

As long as state legislatures can tie in "fighting CSAM" to their bullshit laws, they can use EARN IT to censor and surveill whatever they want.

This is already a nightmare enough. But the bill also DESTROYS ENCRYPTION, you know, the thing protecting literally anyone or any govt entity from going into your private messages and emails and anything on your devices and spying on you.

This bill is going to finish what FOSTA/SESTA started. And that should terrify you.

Senator Blumenthal (Same guy who said ‘Facebook should ban finsta’) pushed this bill all of 2020, literally every activist (There were more than half a million signatures on this site opposing this act!) pushed hard to stop this bill. Now he brings it back, doesn’t show the text of the bill until hours later, and it’s WORSE. Instead of fixing literally anything in the bill that might actually protect kids online, Bluemnthal is hoping to fast track this and shove it through, hoping to get little media attention other than propaganda of “protecting kids” to support this shitty legislation that will harm kids. Blumental doesn't care about protecting anyone, and only wants his name in headlines.

It will make CSAM much much worse.

One of the many reasons this bill is so dangerous: It totally misunderstands how Section 230 works, and in doing so (as with FOSTA) it is likely to make the very real problem of CSAM worse, not better. Section 230 gives companies the flexibility to try different approaches to dealing with various content moderation challenges. It allows for greater and greater experimentation and adjustments as they learn what works – without fear of liability for any “failure.” Removing Section 230 protections does the opposite. It says if you do anything, you may face crippling legal liability. This actually makes companies less willing to do anything that involves trying to seek out, take down, and report CSAM because of the greatly increased liability that comes with admitting that there is CSAM on your platform to search for and deal with. This liability would allow anyone for any reason to sue any platform they want, suing smaller ones out of existence. Look at what is happening right now with book bans across the nation with far right groups. This is going to happen to the internet if this bill passes.

(Remember, the state department released a report in December 2021 recommending that the government crack down on “obscenity” as hard the Reagan Administration did. If this bill passes, it could easily go way beyond shit red states are currently trying. It is a goldmine for the fascist right that is currently in the middle of banning every book that talks about race and sexuality across the US.)

The reason these bills keep showing up is because there is this false lie spread by organizations like NCOSE that platforms do nothing about CSEM online. However, platforms are already liable for child sexual exploitation under federal law. Tech companies sent more than 45 million+ instances of CSAM to the DOJ in 2019 alone, most of which they declined to investigate. This shows that platforms are actually doing everything in their power already to stop CSEM by following already existing laws. The Earn It Act includes zero resources for proven investigation or prevention programs. If Senator Bluementhal actually cared about protecting youth, why wouldn’t he include anything to actually protect them in his shitty horrible bill? EARN IT is actually likely to make prosecuting child molesters more difficult since evidence collected this way likely violates the Fourth Amendment and would be inadmissible in court.

I don’t know why so many Senators are eager to cosponsor the “make child pornography worse” bill, but here we are.

HOW TO FIGHT BACK

EARN IT Act was introduced just two weeks ago and is already being fast-tracked. It will be marked up the week of May 1st and head to the Senate floor immediately after. If there is no loud and consistent opposition, it will be law by JUNE! Most bills never go to markup, so this means they are putting pressure to move this through. There are already 20 co-sponsors, a fifth of the entire Senate. This is an uphill battle and it is very much all hands on deck.

CALL YOUR REPRESENTATIVES.

This website takes you to your Senator / House members contact info. EMAIL, MESSAGE, SEND LETTERS, CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL. Calling is the BEST way to get a message through. Get your family and friends to send calls too. This is literally the end of free speech online.

(202) 224-3121 connects you to the congressional hotline. Here is a call script if you don't know what to say. Call them every day. Even on the weekends, leaving voicemails are fine.

2. Sign these petitions!

Link to Petition 1

Link to Petition 2

3. SPREAD THE WORD ONLINE

If you have any social media, spread this online. One of the best ways we fought back against this last year was MASSIVE spread online. Tiktok, reddit, twitter, discord, whatever means you have at least mention it. We could see most social media die out by this fall if we don't fight back.

Here is a linktree with more information on this bill including a masterpost of articles, the links to petitions, and the call script.

DISCORD LINK IF YOU WANT TO HELP FIGHT IT

TLDR: The EARN IT Act will lead to online censorship of any and all adult & lgbt content across the entire internet, open the floodgates to mass surveillance the likes which we haven’t seen before, lead to much more CSEM being distributed online, and destroy encryption. Call 202-224-3121 to connect to your house and senate representative and tell them to VOTE NO on this bill that does not protect anyone and harms everyone.

[yuri-puppies]

Shape-shifters, face-blindness, and "paying attention to others"

The shapeshifter is one of my favourite "monster of the week" episodes because it showcases how differently Laios processes social information than the rest of the party. It reminds me a lot of the strategies I, faceblind name-forgetter and eye-contact avoider, use to recognize people and learn things about them.

We see Laios clearly fail at recognizing the doubles through "standard" social cues that are perceived as "easy to tell", such as their clothes. This makes the team (unfairly, but understandably) weary of his ability to tell the fakes apart and even worried that he'd prefer the monster versions* over them. Nonetheless, he gives it a try!

...And is immediately overwhelmed. His lack of attention to social cues works a bit in his favor, though, as it makes it harder for him to fall for stereotypes that fool the rest of the group.

Instead, he chooses to rely on his strengths and use his investigation and animal handling skills to distract the shapeshifters, lure out the monster, and roll the most insane balls-to-the-wall intimidation check of all time.

If it had ended there it still would have been a great episode that showcases Laios' strategic mind and his strengths as a leader. He doesn't have the social skills necessary for the task, but he is clever and creative enough to use the skills he does have proficiency in to solve the problem*.

However, what makes this episode so dear and near to my faceblind heart is the revelation that Laios was able to recognize the real party members after all.

Laios is fantastic representation of how special interests actually work for a monotropic interest system. Having a special interest is not just about how much you like it and the need to know everything about it, it's a way of processing and filtering information. Laios' special interest is monsters: his skills as a dungeoneer and party leader are acquired for and informed by his desire to interact with monsters, as is his interest in eating them. He actually brings this up himself when comparing his interest in cooking to Senshi's.

And in this episode, we see that this also extends to his friends. Laios hacks one of the most difficult types of information for him to process by routing it through the lens of the special interest. And, because it's not something most people would notice, it works. He knows that Chilchuck wouldn't let his guard down around a potential mimic, that Senshi values a balanced ecosystem, that (my favourite) Marcille just isn't as thoughtful about monsters as he is.

It might not be what was expected, but it did the trick! And what's more, the narrative validates his way of thinking (even if Chilchuck doesn't).

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Shit Fae!Danny Has Said While Living With Waynes

Danny, making a 'got your nose' gesture: Hey Jason, look, I've got your name!

Red Hood, who suddenly can't remember his own name: What the fuck

Bruce, in a tired dad voice: Danny, please, we talked about this, return your brother's name back

Danny: Oh, come on, it's not like he even uses it

Jason, thankfully remembering his name: And I repeat, what the f u c k

Steph, at dinner: I was wondering, what do faeries even eat normally? Like, flowers and stuff?

Danny, his eyes two black voids inside his eyesockets: The souls of the innocent

Steph: So that's a 'no' on the flowers?

Danny, back to normal and shoving a bagel in his mouth: I mean, I can, but would you want to stay on the crumbs-only diet when you are in a 5-star Michelin restaurant?

Tim: It's actually 3-star. Michelin rating system only has three stars, not five.

Dick: Are you saying that people are basically food joints for Fae?

Damian, at Constantine: It would do you well to choose your wording better when speaking to fair folk-

Danny, very much a fair folk, appearing out of thin air in the Cave: Yolo, s'up bitches, guess who's back in town!

Damian: -even when they do not necessarily do so themselves.

Constantine, looking between them: Are you sure you're the human and he is the changeling?

Tim, 46 hours of no sleep: Hey, if you can take a name from someone, does it mean you can take, like, other things that have no real shape or form?

Danny: Names do have shape and form, they even have taste. Yours is like a ping-pong ball made out of really dense cotton candy with banana-caramel flavor.

Tim, losing his touch with reality: Dense banana cotton candy...

Danny: By the way, I know you wanted to ask me if I could take your need to sleep from you, and theoretically, the answer is yes.

Tim, his whisper full of hope: ...will you?..

Danny: No. Either go to sleep or keep suffering. I'm not here to make your life easier.

Danny, after a half-an-hour rant on the Fae customs and traditions: -and Fae never tell the truth, but also never lie. It's a work of art, you know, say what you want but never in a way that makes sense.

Jason: So Fae just like to fuck with people.

Danny, looking him in the eyes, smiling and winking: Sure, humans are very fuckable.

Bruce, trying very hard not to pay attention to this: Can you make an example?

Danny: Sure. I lied.

Bruce: Where?

Danny: :)

Bruce, feeling like he is about to lose his mind: W h e r e ?

Alfred, right after he heard Dick's muffled screaming in the hallway: Young Master Danny, would you mind returning Master Dick his ability to talk in coherent sentences?

Danny, obediently standing up and walking out of the library: ...okay.

Bruce: How come he always listens to you?

Alfred: He knows what I will do if he doesn't.

Danny, returning to the library: He will change all the silverware to iron-ware. As well as the doorknobs and hairbrushes and lightswitches and everything else.

Alfred: Did you fix Master Dick's shoes?

Danny: I did. But I still think that making all of his shoes left ones was funny.

Alfred: Indeed, it was.

| <-prev | next-> |

There's also a fic now.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pretty tipsy ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ he brings you home after a night out drinking┊2.5k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: alcohol & intoxication, this man is WHIPPED, age & size difference, emotional drunk human reader, ooc? calling him kitty

➤ author's note: idk what this is but it’s my longest logan piece yet because i have yet to write any more than a thousand words for him

tonight was one of the few nights logan could finally have some alone time. wade was going out for drinks with vanessa with the plan to stay over at her place, the ever so mysterious blind al was off doing her own thing, and mary puppins was resting peacefully in her little bed, tuckered out after a long day of playtime. he could finally get some long-awaited peace and quiet, a moment to himself to relax and breathe. while he’s grateful for the presence of others since he arrived in this dimension, he’s still a lone wolf at heart who treasures his privacy above all else.

humming a little tune from the eighties, he sunk into the beat-up leather couch with a beer in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, taking a long drag on it and preparing himself for a relaxing evening until his flip phone started ringing. when he opened it up to read the “wade wilson” contact name staring back at him, he rolled his eyes with a groan before answering.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“not even a ‘hello?’ damn bitch, okay then— well, we ran into some friends and had some drinks together, but one of them is pretty shit-faced right now and her phone is dead, could you pretty please with sugar on top come and pick her up?”

“the fuck? that’s not my problem, just call her an uber—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard a familiar giggle in the background, one asking a different partygoer to have another drink with her, “is that the neighbor who lives at the end of the hallway?”

“yeah, it’s your little crush~! you recognize her from just her voice over the phone, oh my god, you have it bad wolfie!! well, if you don’t wanna come, then fine, whatever, but you know, it’s not unsafe for a pretty lady to be alone this late at night! some guy might just swoop her up, actually, there’s some guy asking for her number right now—”

“alright, alright, i’m coming! send me the address.” he nearly shouted into the receiver, putting out his cigar on the ashtray atop the coffee table and slipping on his jacket to leave the comfort of his shared apartment.

the night was chilly in comparison to the cozy warmth of the indoors and the bar was filled with loud chattering and cheers, the clinking of glasses, yelling at the game being televised, and the general buzz of extroverted fun on a weekend night. 

“ayyy, there he is! come here, peanut, sit, sit, sit, have a drink with us!”

logan hesitated, not because he would ever shy away from free booze but because he was here on a mission with one sole goal in mind (and because he wasn’t familiar with this particular group of people, he didn’t feel like socializing tonight) “no, it’s fine, i’m just here to take her home.” his voice was uncharacteristically mellow, finding you napping on the table with your arms folded to be a makeshift cushion for your head. 

you peeked at the man coming up next to you and your face changed from exhausted to ecstatic to upset in the span of a few seconds, “looggann!! how are you doing, i feel like i haven’t seen you in foreverr— how come every time i see you in the hall, you always run off, are you avoiding me? did i do something wrong?” you cling onto his hand and shake his arm, paying no attention to your friends giggling at your behavior in the background, pouting and tearing up. 

oh god, you’re an emotional drunk, that’s so cute. neither he nor wade could get drunk at all on account of their systems constantly cleaning out the effects of the alcohol as soon as it’s consumed, but when he drinks around others, it’s a trait he typically finds so annoying quickly becoming so endearing when worn by you.

“i’m not avoiding you, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he consoled in the most gentle voice a wolverine could muster, also cringing at the fact that he wasn’t half as discreet as he thought he was. it’s true, he has been avoiding you, but only because he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel, smoothing out the rough edges of his personality and making him feel stupid butterflies he was far too old to be feeling, not to mention the nonstop teasing from everyone else when they noticed the way he seemed to look at you from afar. it was as if he was a child who thought hiding from it would make it go away, but it has become apparent it has only grown stronger.

“you’re telling the truth?” you sniffled.

“yes, i am. come on, bub, let’s get you outta here. i’m here to take you home.”

you didn’t protest or try to convince him you weren’t wasted, knowing your limit had been reached, and slowly picked up your things to follow him out of the building. he allowed you to intertwine your arm with his, providing support to your unbalanced mind and stumbling legs since you couldn’t even walk straight.

“why would you drink so much if you’re such a lightweight?”

“how do you know i’m a lightweight? you weren’t there, i could have drunk an entire bathtub full of booze before you showed up!” 

“nah, i can smell it, there’s no way you drank anything more than a few pints.”

“oh, so the kitty is a dog now? i thought you were more cat-like this whole time, but i guess i was wrong.” 

“what?” they say what a person says when intoxicated comes from their soul and true thoughts with little to no filter, but he certainly wasn’t anticipating those words to come out of your mouth.

“you look like a kitty, you know? with the way your hair does the little swoopy things— do you wake up like that or do you need to style it? you act like one too, grumpy ass kitty.”

“don’t call me that, kid, i hear it enough from wade already.”

“i’ll stop calling you kitty when you stop calling me kid! i know you’re old as hell, but i’m a grown-ass adult!”

“yeah? well, you’re certainly not acting like one right now.”

you were silent for a minute, making him worry for a second that he offended you by calling you childish, but when he looked back down at you, you were simply staring in astonishment. “i’ve never seen you smile before! you look a lot more handsome, you should do it more often!”

was he smiling? he didn’t even notice, grinning ear to ear and revealing his pearly white teeth, chuckling at your ridiculous words. was this really the first time you saw him smile and heard him laugh? no wonder you assumed he was avoiding you, he was surprised you didn’t hate him just because of a misunderstanding.

it took some time to get you up all of the stairs to your floor without tripping, and logan was almost sad the night was over so quickly. even if the conversation was mostly one-sided and you were intoxicated with slurred words, he swears he listened to all you had to say between comedic bits, insightful knowledge, random bullshit, and found it all fascinating. luckily for him, his time with you wasn’t up yet as he watched you fumble with your purse and frown.

“oh, fuck… i lost my keys… oh no…” you slumped against the wall until you fell to the floor, feeling yourself starting to cry at this inconvenience with heightened emotions. 

“god, please don’t, not again…” he’s the absolute worst at comforting others, it isn’t his strong suit, and acknowledging this weakness seemed ten times more difficult when you were the one in need. “come on, you can sleep at my place for the night and charge your phone.”

“...really?”

“yes, come on.” 

you took his outreached hand and found yourself in his grasp again as he held onto your shoulder to steady you, unlocking the door and leading you into his shared apartment. he felt somewhat grateful that you were too drunk to notice how messy the site was, seating you on the couch as he got you a glass of water to sober up. you looked so out of place among it all, so young and feminine with your vibrant club clothing around all of the aging, scratched-up furniture and muted colors.

“thank you,” you murmur, downing the entire tall glass with a few gulps, “uh, where is the bathroom?” he directed you to where it was and allowed you to use it, quickly hearing you turn on the shower after a minute and just as quickly hearing you swearing in regret over the loud pitter-patter of the steaming hot water. “i’m never drinking again, why am i being so fucking stupid?!” 

“are you okay?” 

“yeah, except for the fact i forgot that i don’t have a change of clothes and i stepped into the shower with my current ones on because i forgot to take them off!” your voice cracked, feeling yourself starting to cry once again from yet another inconvenience. you were really just embarrassing yourself and couldn’t wait for this shitty day to be over.

he let out a sigh of relief, “god, don’t scare me like that— i’ll get you something, hold on, please don’t cry.” he could have stolen some of al’s clothing since she wouldn’t have noticed, or he could have stolen some of the clothes vanessa left behind after spending time with wade, but for some odd reason, he pulled out one of his canadian hockey jerseys for you. the fabric was soft and worn with time, smelling slightly of him and laundry detergent, and arguably the most comfortable thing he had at his disposal. “i’ll leave it outside the door, okay?”

“thank youu!!” (and thank god your underwear is still clean and dry enough to wear again, you have no idea what you would have done if you didn’t realize your mistake soon enough and stood under the water for long enough to be soaked to the bone.)

logan allowed his fatigued body to rest for a moment, sinking into the couch just as he did an hour ago in hopes of relaxation. what the fuck was he doing? since when did the wolverine play babysitter for drunk young women, walking them back to play guard dog against possible creepy men, letting them into his home, and lending them his clothing to wear? this was so uncharacteristic of him, he couldn’t think of a single person he was willing to do this for other than laura, but you certainly weren’t nearly as close to him as he was to her! lord, he’s so pathetic, he thinks he probably would have carried you back bridal style too if you asked him.

the water stopped and he waited for you to exit so that he could show you where you could sleep, but he could now see he didn’t need to. your apartment layouts are nearly identical, and it looks like your brain was switched onto autopilot after cleaning up, mindlessly strolling into his bedroom and plopping down on his mattress as if it were your own. (his shirt was practically a dress on you, falling to your mid-thigh and ill-fitted on your smaller frame, his eyes lingering on it for a second longer than what would have been polite.)

he leaned against the doorframe, watching you make yourself comfortable and preparing to stay there until the early afternoon with a banging headache. “are you comfortable? do you need anything else?”

you murmured something in response and stretched out your arms, making grabby hands and inviting him to join you, “come cuddle with me! herree, kitty, kitty, kitty~”

are you really calling a fifty-something-year-old, six-foot-tall killer mutant with adamantium bones and razor-sharp claws that come out of his knuckles ‘kitty’? yes, yes you are, and you’re going to scream into your pillow from embarrassment when you recall it the next day.

“i don’t do cuddles, princess,” he chuckled even though he intended to scoff. “and i already told you to quit calling me that.”

“pleaseee? pretty pleasee?” you chirped, eyes going big and round just like a puppy in a cartoon, begging him to humor you in this request.

are you truly a human, or are you secretly a mutant who has hypnotic powers? the answer is obvious, he’s just an old loser who apparently answers at your every beck and call now because all he could do is sigh, slip off his jacket, and get under the blanket with you. 

you rolled on your side and wrapped your arm around his body, nuzzling your face into his comforting touch and inhaling the mild scent of pine and tobacco. humming a satisfied “good night” and dozing off within a few minutes, you clung to him as tightly as a koala onto a branch, and he couldn’t separate himself from you without making you stir and whine. 

trapped in the embrace of a beautiful neighbor whom he possessed a soft spot for, wearing his clothing and laying in his bed, he would be trapped like this until morning it sounds like a dream to most men, but to logan, it’s the fear of getting attached and losing someone else important to him rearing its ugly head to the forefront of his mind. it scares him to think what could happen if he allowed himself this pleasure of becoming close to you, and yet when he admires your slumbering face, he feels like it would be okay and work itself out in the end somehow.

he fell asleep more quickly than usual when you held him, and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t tormented with horrid nightmares of the past that always plagued him before now. when he woke up, his weary soul was well-rested and energized, almost as if he was twenty years younger again. the wonders of a good night’s sleep, or perhaps, the wonders of being with you. 

it felt so… natural to wake up with you next to him.

you were practically a dead weight by now, not rousing in the least when he slowly got up to leave the bed. he did feel a little back about undoing the grasp you had on him though, felt a bit like abandoning you in a vulnerable state. he sauntered into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee as per his routine, only to find the most annoyingly loveable scarred face sitting in a chair waiting for him, legs crossed and hands in his lap like a supervillain. 

“sooooo, how was your night, you smitten kitten? you dirty dog!” there was a stupid smirk on his face, trying his best to hold back a fit of giggles. he knows nothing suggestive happened and was just teasing, but he still wanted to hear him say that it was a wonderful night nonetheless and to thank him for playing matchmaker.

“shut the fuck up before i stab you again. don’t ruin this morning for me.”

[sincerelybubbles]

i've noticed you

pairing: spencer reid x profiler!reader

warnings: fluff, not proof read (as is the usual oops), slightly slightly suggestive

word count: 2.6k

it's a late night in the office. dim light casts shadows across the bull pen. you squint your tired eyes to focus them on the document in your hand. hours have passed since everyone else went home but you stayed behind. something about pushing into the early hours of the weekend to finish off a long week is better for your mental health than leaving the documents for monday. the totality of closing the folder, marking it complete, and filing it away allows you to push the details of your cases to the back of your mind. you can't forget them entirely, of course, and nightmares still haunt you, but this is the best system you've found to make yourself feel better, even if only marginally.

a call of your name, soft and familiar, startles you. you jump, chair pushing back a few inches. you look up to see spencer standing in the doorway, giving you a confused look. his bag is strapped across his chest, hands clutching it, eyebrows raised. he's dressed more casually than you're used to: a plain blue shirt, khaki pants, his usual dress shoes. his hair is messy and his eyes look sleepy behind the confusion, like he'd only just woken up.

"hey, reid," you say, catching a yawn in the middle of saying his name. "you scared me."

"i could say the same to you. what are you doing here at," he checks his watch, flicking his wrist to right it in a movement that has your chest tightening. "3:46 in the morning on a saturday?"

"i could say the same to you," you mimic him, sending him a wide smile. you lift up your documents when he sends you an unamused look, waving the folder. "just finishing up before the weekend."

"you have over two weeks to have those reports filed, though?"

"helps me sleep better to have them done, i guess. you never answered me, though -- why are you here?"

"ironically, to help myself sleep," spencer answers, crossing the room in swift, long strides to reach his desk behind yours. he deposits his bag and turns to you, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. "i get nightmares and sometimes the best thing to do is try to get some work done. helps my conscious, i guess. or, at least keeps me busy."

you nod and watch him make his way to the kitchen. "that makes sense."

"i'll be back," he calls to you over his shoulder.

you hear his return a few minutes later, eyes trained on your file again. you don't look up this time, now that you know who it is. you're too focused on finishing these last few documents and fully aware that it's sort of hard to stop looking at spencer once you start.

the gentle click of a mug hitting your desk grabs your attention, though, and you tear your eyes from the page to look up.

spencer is leaning across your desk, nudging a yellow mug toward you, smiling widely. your throat tightens, a quick flash of pleasant awareness of him, and you swallow it away.

"what's this?" you ask, reaching for the mug. he doesn't let go as you expected and your fingers brush against each other. he shrugs instead of answering, leaning back against the desk next to yours and taking a sip from his own mug.

"coffee."

you take a sip, surprised to find it made exactly how you like. you can't remember ever telling him what you like and your cheeks heat at the gesture. you're grateful that the only lamp on is yours, hiding the heat from him.

"how'd you know how i like it?" you ask, taking a sip.

"i pay attention," he says, eyes trained on yours.

"to people's coffee preferences?"

"to yours, sure."

before you can properly allow that to sink into your exhausted mind, spencer sets his mug on your desk before grabbing his own files. "mind if i join you?" he asks, dragging the nearest chair over. "at least until you go home for the night."

"yeah, sure, i could use the company," you say, clearing space for him.

||||

5:53 AM

you: [attached image]

you: i promise i'm on the way, just having the worst morning. once i get this tire fixed, i'll let you know

you sigh, throwing your phone in your bag and squatting down to examine your blown tire. you don't know what you hit but you do know it's the start to an already sour morning.

you slept with your window propped open, despite how many times you've seen that go poorly for victims, and it rained, drenching your curtains. you didn't get to pack a lunch after dealing with that and usually, you eat breakfast at the office, so now you're on the side of the wet road, blown tire, and late for the first time in years.

your phone buzzes twice and you stand to dig it out of your bag.

5:55 AM

morgan: bad morning, pretty girl?

hotchner: don't worry about it, stay safe.

you roll your eyes at morgan, chest feeling lighter at hotch's reply. you hadn't expected him to be angry, this wasn't something anyone could foresee, but his answer still lessens the anxiety in your chest.

you climb into your car, turning on the heat and holding your hands to the vent for a few moments. you sit there for a few minutes past when you've thawed, dreading reentering the wet morning to change the tire.

the sound of a car door opening and shutting grabs your attention and you look in the rearview to see spencer walking toward you, hitting the button to lock one of the company vans. he's holding a bag in his hands, walking briskly to avoid getting too wet in the morning mist.

you throw open the passenger door when he gets close enough and watch as he folds himself in the car, shutting the door and adjusting his jacket.

"hello," you say, amused, "fancy seeing you here. did hotch send you?"

"i volunteered, here." he hands you the bag. you look at him for a moment longer, watching as he fixes his hair. you return your focus to the bag when he looks over at you, embarrassed to be caught.

you find one of the kitchen muffins and a banana in the bag. you stare at it for a moment, fully aware that this is exactly what you eat most mornings at work.

"i know you usually eat at work and didn't know if you had anything here," spencer explains.

"you noticed that?"

"i noticed you," he says. your eyes snap up to meet his, heart fluttering in your chest. he doesn't look embarrassed, eyes meeting yours steadily.

you struggle to find words, heart beyond touched by the gesture. you end up muttering, "thank you, spencer."

"you're welcome." there's a moment's pause while you come to terms with the fact that this can no longer be considered one of your worst mornings. "also, there was betting about if you could change a tire."

"ah, so you're here because you didn't believe in me?"

"well," he says, cheeky, smiling over at you. "you are just sitting in your car, decidedly not changing your tire."

"i was working myself up to it!" you say in defense. it's insane to you how quickly he has shifted your mood in just a few minutes.

he shakes his head at you, smiling slightly, and pops his door open, "open the back," he says, stepping out.

you do as he says, opening the trunk and getting out after him.

"i really was going to do it, you don't have to," you say, following him around the back of the car and watching him shift the things around to find your spare tire.

"i got it. go sit in the car, it's cold." he rolls his sleeves up, sending you a look.

you watch his hands as he moves the fabric up, exposing his forearms. you swallow, mouth dry, as he moves to the other arm, wrists flexing and bringing his veins into focus.

"i'm not sitting in my car while you do all the work," you refute, voice wavering, tearing your eyes away from his hands. you feel like a silly schoolgirl, ogling at her crush. or, better yet, like a scandalized victorian man seeing a hint of ankle for the first time, entranced by the barest hint of innocent skin. still, under the heat of embarrassment, you can't stop yourself from shifting your weight from foot to foot watching him lift the tire from your trunk.

"why not?" he asks, carrying the donut under one arm and walking over to the flat tire. you watch him, entranced, as he crouches down to examine the flat.

"it feels wrong! really, spence," you say, walking over to him and leaning down to catch his forearm and get his attention. "you don't have to change it for me, i'm more than capable."

"i know," he says, turning to look up at you from under his lashes. he smiles, still just a hint at the corner of his lips, and nods toward the car. "still, go sit, it's cold."

"spence-" you start and he rolls his eyes, standing up so he can look down at you and crossing his arms.

he says your name lowly, leaning back against the car and raising an eyebrow. "get in the car, this will only take me a minute."

he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing himself off of the car and walking to the trunk to grab the tool kit. stunned and slightly turned on, you slowly walk back to the drivers side of the car.

"good, now eat, too," he calls.

you grab the bag of food when you sit down, letting your legs hang down outside of the car. he stands up straighter to see you over the hood of the car and grins at you, "thank you."

||||

hands sweating and heart racing, you press the button on the elevator and watch the door close. you clutch the little bag between two of your hands, rolling your head back to stretch it and stare at the ceiling.

you're a profiler, you know people, you know that your ever-growing crush on spencer is reciprocated. his face as he said "i noticed you" is the last thing you see before you sleep and you know you aren't misinterpreting the signs. still, anxiety pools when the elevator dings and you step off.

you roll out your shoulders and step into the bull pen with confidence you have to fake, putting a smile on your face and holding the little bag behind your back slightly.

"morning angel," penelope calls to you, swinging around the corner and linking her arm with yours. "did you have any fun hot dates this weekend? please say yes, i am in desperate need of someone to live vicariously through -- my love life is dry in all definitions of the word."

"sorry love," you say, patting her arm and sending her a sympathetic look. "still working on that plan i mentioned a few weeks ago."

"wait," she says, suddenly stopping and forcing you to as well. "really? because you were all gung-ho about maintaining a sense of workplace appropriate behavior and all of that other blah hr speak."

"well," you say with a shrug, smiling at the ground, "i don't know, can't a girl change her mind?"

"she most certainly can. in fact, i have right now!" you look up at her suddenly ultra cheerful voice and see spencer walking into the room, hands in his pockets and heading right for you with a smile as a greeting. "i have decided that i'm not walking you to your desk and we'll chat over lunch instead. bye!"

just as quickly as she arrived, penelope left, scampering away to her office with a grin stretching across her face. she's your best friend, the one person you tell everything, and also the source of your greatest annoyance, leaving you alone in the hallway.

"what was that about?" spencer asks, reaching you and stopping only half a step away.

"just garcia being garcia," you say, shrugging.

"well, goodmorning," spencer says, tucking his chin down to look at you better. "have a good weekend?"

"i did," you say, swallowing in a deep breath to steel your nerves. "i actually managed to go to that bookstore you told me about."

"oh really?" spencer asks, excitement animating his face. "did you talk to the store owner? she's super cool, i actually learned a lot from her about book binding last time i visited. she has a little workshop in the back."

"i did, actually. i had to get her help finding a specific book," you say, holding the bag out to him.

"oh, which one?"

"open it and see."

"it's for me?" spencer asks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. he takes the bag slowly, as if expecting you to rip it away. you nod encouragingly and he takes the cue to lift the paper out of the bag and then the book. "wait, no way. this is so cool! i've been searching for it for ages."

you watch as he opens the book and his eyes widen finding it signed. he slowly, reverently, flips the pages to look at the publication date and his eyes flick to meet yours.

"this is a first edition?"

"yeah."

"this is- how did you know?"

"i noticed you, too," you say, voice soft and hesitant. you take the half step forward so your toes are touching. surprisingly, your anxiety is nowhere to be found as you look up at him, smiling, chest warm and fingertips tingling. "i hope that's okay."

"beyond, actually," spencer answers, voice softer. the hand holding the bag and book falls, his other one lifting to your cheek, hesitant. he brushes his fingers across your cheekbone gently before moving his hand to cup the back of your neck and bringing you in for a hug. .

it's exactly how you expected hugging spencer to be, warm and all-consuming. he laughs, gentle, a vibration you can feel through his chest and into yours.

"what?" you ask, face buried in his chest.

"it's amazing how hard i'm fighting to not kiss you right now. i always thought i would be too nervous - i mean, obviously, i've kissed people before. not that that's what i should be talking about right now, but, i just mean, it's different with you. you make me happy in a way that makes me nervous, you know?"

"i know," you say, softly, cutting off his rambling with a hidden smile. he's still holding you in the empty hallway and you would love nothing more than to hear his rambling but you're also very aware that someone could walk in any moment.

you just hope that whatever this is leads to more of his thoughtless rambles - you've missed them, noticed how he's held himself back more, and you think nothing will make you happier than being the person he turns to with them.

"yeah. um, thank you. but now i'm not nervous, i'm just annoyed we're at work."

you laugh, pushing away from him, fixing his tie. "we have plenty of time, it's okay."

he doesn't say anything, his hand still on the back of your neck. instead, he slowly leans down to press his lips to your forehead. it's gentle, as if he's afraid the wrong move will break you or send you running, and you melt from it.

"plenty."

part two of it's a date will come soon!! i hope!!!! please take this as a peace offering <3 i got the idea of spencer changing a tire on my head and could NOT LET IT GO !!!! like i'm ngl, i made myself blush w this so i hope u all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

also also!! i usually like to keep my notes short but this is a reminder that my asks/inbox are always open!! and i read every reblog and comment and smile and giggle like a little kid when i see them. you all make my day every day and ily u all

[citysuk]

guilt and shame | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: you confessed your love for remus, but he rejects you because he doesn't think he's good enough. james has to talk him out of it.

words: 2,5k

notes: omfg !!! this is my first fic ever and I'm super excited to share it, english isn't my first language so please bare with me. if you like this history you can support sharing it. i hope you enjoy it !!

warnings: angst !!!!!!! so much angsty, insecure and overthinker boy remus, james being a little noisy and trying to get some sense on him but being a little ass. no use y/n but no oc neither. no proofread.

part 2 | innocence of love

Remus sits down at the table. He's almost alone, being so early that all the students are still in bed, he barely pays any attention to the few people around him as he pours himself a cup of strong black coffee. He takes a big gulp, relishing in the bitter taste, hoping it will jolt his system awake. As he sipped his coffee, Remus can't help but scan the Great Hall, searching for a familiar face. But you are nowhere to be seen, and the sight makes his chest ache. He forces himself to look away, trying to focus on his breakfast, but his mind keeps drifting back to you.

James joins him, looking as chipper as ever. He plops down next to Remus, immediately noticing his friend's exhausted state. "Morning, mate," he greets cheerfully. "Rough night, Remus? You look like a Lethifold sucked out your soul."

Remus barely suppresses an irritated sigh at James's overly cheerful greeting. He turns to look at him, his expression flat. "Yeah, something like that," he mutters, before taking another gulp of coffee. "Didn't sleep, if you must know."

James's smile falters a little at the sight of Remus's grumpy demeanor. He eyes the dark bags under his eyes and the lines of fatigue on his face. He leans in a bit, his voice low. "Mate, what's up? For real. You look awful."

Remus resists the urge to roll his eyes at James's prodding. He sighs wearily, setting down his coffee cup. "I couldn't sleep, alright?" he admits grudgingly. "I was...I was thinking about something. Someone."

James arches an eyebrow, intrigued. "Someone, huh? Care to give the name? Or are you going to leave me in suspense?"

Remus hesitates, torn between sharing his thoughts and keeping them to himself. He lets out a sigh, his resolve crumbling under James's persistent gaze. He says your name quietly, it leaving a bitter-sweet taste in his mouth.

James's eyes widen at the mention of your name, surprise mixed with curiosity on his face. Then a sly smile forms on his lips. "So...what kind of thoughts were you having about her that kept you up all night?"

Remus averts his gaze, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. He picks at his food, not really eating. "It's... complicated," he mutters, avoiding eye contact. "We... We talked a few days ago. There were some things... some things confessed that have left me feeling... conflicted. Confused."

James nods, sobering instantly at the seriousness of Remus's tone. He frowns, concern etching his features. "Confesses, eh?" he echoes, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Wait, what do you mean? What did she confess?"

Remus's fingers dig into the table, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He looks up at his friends, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and vulnerability. "It's..." he starts, then swallows hard. "She... she told me that she likes me. More than as a friend."

James's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, it looks like he's at a loss for words. He glances at Sirius, who has a similar look of surprise on his face. "She.... she told you she likes you? Like... romantically?"

Remus nods, the action almost a wince. He looks miserable, the guilt of his internal struggle clearly visible on his face. "Yes," he says quietly. "Romantically. And... And I didn't respond well."

James's surprise melts into confusion, and then annoyance. "How do you mean, you 'didn't respond well'?" he asks, his tone taking on a hint of accusation. "What, did you reject her or something?"

Remus flinches at James's sharp tone, feeling the weight of the situation even more acutely. He takes another deep breath, his eyes avoiding anyone's gaze. "I… I did reject her, in a way," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I told her it's not a good idea. That we're better off as friends."

James stares at him in disbelief, shaking his head incredulously. "What in the name of Merlin's beard, Remus?" he exclaims, his voice raising in volume. "Are you mental? She likes you. You like her. So why the hell would you reject her?"

Remus glares back at James, his own frustration and guilt bubbling to the surface. He grips the edge of the table. "Because it's not that easy, James!" he retorts, trying to keep his voice down. "There is...there are so many factors at play here that I can't just... just act on my feelings without considering them!"

James throws his hands up, his patience clearly wearing thin. "What bloody factors, Remus? I don't understand what your issue is here. She likes you, you like her, end of story. What else is there to consider?"

Remus lets out a frustrated huff, his hands clenching into fists. The anger in his voice is evident, but he's trying to be quiet since they're in a public space. "You don't get it, James! It's... It's not that simple! There's... there's my condition. I'm a bloody werewolf! Do you know what that means for her!? There are things you and Peter and Sirius could never understand!"

James scoffs, his eyes narrow. His jaw set. "So what, you think she's just going to run screaming if she knew the truth?" he shoots back. "You think she'd be incapable of handling the fact that you're a werewolf? You think she'd think less of you, just because you turn furry every month?"

Remus is shaking now, his frustration and pain obvious in his every word. "Yes, James! Yes, that's exactly what I think! How could anyone, especially someone like her, accept that? Accept all the danger and the... and the stigma that comes with it? I can't put her through that! I won't!"

James is clearly struggling to maintain his cool, his usually cheerful face twisted in anger and disbelief. "You really think so little of her, don't you?" he accuses. "You think she's so shallow, so narrow-minded, that she'd just walk away, the moment she finds out the truth? Or maybe, just maybe, do you actually have so little confidence in yourself that you think no one could possibly love and accept you in spite of your condition?"

Remus flinches at James's sharp words, the accusations hitting a little too close to home. He looks away, shame and anger battling for dominance on his face. "It's not about me, James!" he retorts, his voice cracking. "It's about her! I can't... I can't put her in danger. I can't risk hurting her. It's not worth the risk!"

James huffs out a scoff, slamming his palms against the table, his eyes ablaze. "You're making excuses, Remus. You're terrified. You're letting your fear control you, your guilt consume you, and it's making you blind to the fact that maybe, just maybe, she's strong enough, kind enough, brave enough, to accept you, flaws and all!"

Remus stands abruptly, his own anger and frustration are barely contained now, his eyes burning with a mixture of shame and defiance. "You don't get to lecture me on this, James!" he nearly bellows, attracting the attention of some nearby students. "You have no idea what it's like to live my life, to face the dangers I face! To bear the guilt, the shame, the pain! You can't possibly understand!"

James doesn't back down, his own emotions running just as high. He points a finger at Remus, his voice as firm as his stance. "Maybe I don't understand the specifics of your situation," he says, his gaze never faltering. "But I understand fear, Remus. I understand guilt. I understand pain. Those are universal. You don't get a bloody monopoly on them just because you're a werewolf."

Remus lets out a derisive snort, his jaw clenched. He's trying to push down the wave of emotions threatening to burst forth. "Oh really? You understand guilt, yeah? You understand guilt like mine? The guilt of knowing that you could hurt, could kill, someone you care about? The guilt of knowing that you're a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode and destroy everything around you? That kind of guilt?"

James doesn't have a ready answer for that. He looks like Remus's words have struck a chord. "Maybe I don't," he admits, his voice slightly hoarse. "But I do know what it's like to push people away because I think they're better off without me. I do know what it is to self-sabotage because I don't think I deserve love and happiness. And you're doing the same damn thing."

Remus falters for a moment, the raw honesty in James's words taking the edge off his own anger. He knows what his friend is saying hits a little too close to home. But he shakes it off, determination hardening his features. "I... I'm doing it to protect her, James! Can't you see that? It's for her own good!"

James shakes his head, his eyes hard yet filled with a pleading look. "You're protecting her from what, Remus? From a relationship? From happiness? You're making that decision for her, depriving her of a choice. Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical, considering how much you value your own autonomy?"

Remus feels a pang of guilt at James's words. The truth in them is undeniable, and he struggles to find a comeback, a defense against his friend's well-aimed arguments. "I... I'm just trying to do what's right..." he mutters weakly, his voice lacking conviction.

James huffs out a sigh, his anger now tempered by a hint of resignation. He steps towards Remus, his voice going softer. "You know what's right, Remus? What's right is that you stop making decisions for her and let her decide what she wants for herself. She confessed to you. She clearly wants a relationship. Stop pushing her away because you think you know what's best for her. That's not your call to make."

Remus is silent, the weight of James's words slowly sinking in. He knows his friend is right. He's not being fair to her, no matter how just he thinks his reasons are. But the fear, the guilt, the shame, they all hold him back. "I... I don't know if I can, James," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can let her in that close. I'm scared, okay? I'm terrified of what could happen."

*James's face softens further, a hint of understanding in his eyes.*

"I get it, mate," he says, his voice gentle. "I really do. But you've got to let go of that fear. She's not a fragile little thing, in case you haven't noticed. She's strong, she's kind, and she clearly cares about you. Give her a chance, Remus. Let her decide if she's okay with the risk. Let her decide if she wants the challenge."

Remus takes a deep breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He struggles with the internal war within him, the fears and hopes battling it out. "It's not just her," he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "It's me, too. I... I don't know if I can trust myself. If I can trust the wolf. I'm terrified of what could happen when the full moon comes."

James reaches out, resting a hand on Remus's shoulder, his touch an anchor in the chaos. "But you can trust yourself," he insists, his voice filled with conviction. "You've managed this for years, Remus. You've controlled the wolf. Yes, it's a beast, but you have a leash on it, you can control it. And you won't be alone. We'll all be there for you, just like we always have been."

Remus stares at James, the words striking a chord in him. He looks at his friends, at Sirius and Peter who silently watched the two of them. He realizes that they are all willing to stand by his side, regardless of his condition. The realization brings a lump to his throat. "You... You'd still be willing to stand by me? Even if it puts you at risk? Even if it puts her at risk?"

James smiles, a reassuring, confident smile. He squeezes Remus's shoulder. "Of course, we would, mate. We're Marauders, remember? We're brothers. We stick together, through thick and thin. And if that means dealing with a furry little problem once a month, then we'll figure it out. We always do."

Remus can't help but let out a wry, humorless chuckle, the weight of his fears and doubts lifting a little, but still present. "Furry little problem, eh? You make it sound like we're dealing with a misbehaving Kneazle rather than a bloodthirsty monster."

James grins, his usual mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Mate, have I ever failed to turn a problem into a joke? Besides, I doubt that wolf of yours could top our prank-making abilities. We could write a manual: 'Wolf Handling for Dummies' - by the Marauders."

Remus lets out a snort, despite himself, the image of a guidebook with that title making him crack a small smile. "Yeah, right. I'm sure it'd be a bestseller. I can picture it now: 'Five Tips to Keep the Wolf from Your Door.' I'm sure Pomfrey would purchase a dozen copies."

James chuckles, a sly grin on his face. "Nah, Pomfrey already has a signed copy. She keeps it under her pillow for light reading before bed." Sirius and even Peter can't help but laugh at James's quip, the tension in the air slowly easing off.

Remus even manages a dry chuckle. Despite himself, he feels some of the weight of his worries lifting a little. Looking at his friends, standing there, teasing him with lighthearted jibes and encouraging grins, he realizes how lucky he is to have them by his side, no matter what.

"You lot will be the death of me," he mutters with a shake of his head, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

James grins wider, giving Remus a playful punch on the arm. "Death by mischief, mate. There are worse ways to go, I reckon."

Sirius walks over, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Yeah, and we'll make sure your tombstone says something suitably epic. 'Here lies Moony. Died of a severe case of hilarity.'"

Remus rolls his eyes, the last of his resistance crumbling away in the face of his friends' unfaltering loyalty and humor. "Great, just what I always wanted. A tombstone that turns my death into a punchline. You lot are a nightmare, you know that?"

Peter grins, finally joining in the banter. "Oh, come on, Moony. You know you love the attention." James throws an arm around Remus, pulling him into a half-hug, half-headlock. "Face it, mate. We're the best thing to happen to your dreary life."

Remus tries (and fails) to look annoyed, a small smile betraying him. He half-heartedly attempts to shake James off, but the effort is half-hearted at best.

"You lot are a bunch of lunatics, that's what you are. And for some reason, I wouldn't have it any other way."

[little-diable]

Forest - Carlisle Cullen (smut)

This is pure filth, nothing more, nothing less. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Carlisle and the reader fuck in the forest, pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, outdoor sex, choking, spitting

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (1k words)

The forest was quiet, nothing could be heard besides a few birds singing in the distance, an eerie silence (y/n) would have paid more attention to if it weren’t for Carlisle’s wandering hands and lips. He had her pressed against a tree, lips kissing their way down her throat, hands fumbling with the buttons of her jeans.

“Fuck, are you sure we should do this out here, Carlisle?” (Y/n) struggled to speak up, eyes rolling back into her head, trying to bite through the hazy cloud of lust she was stuck in. Carlisle’s cold fingers made her tremble, stroking her warm skin, setting her body ablaze as if she was about to be burned on the stake for sinning. 

“The others are out hunting, it’s just us, love.” She could barely remember how they’ve ended up here, with her trapped between the old tree and Carlisle’s towering frame. But (y/n) couldn’t care about the questions filling her mind, could only care about his touch, about the deadly mixture of anticipation and lust his closeness pushed through her system. 

He pulled her trousers down to her knees, groaning at the sight of her soaked panties, eyes no longer golden though rather black. The sight of Carlisle, staring down on her with his dangerous gaze, with his tongue darting out to wet his lips, made her walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him buried inside of her. 

“You’re so ready for me. Such a good girl, allowing me to have you whenever I need you.” Her whines left him chuckling, a gritty sound that rang in her ears like a warning, a warning she couldn’t pay any attention to. One of his cold hands found her throat, forcing her eyes to find his dark ones, getting lost in the pupils that told stories of old times, century old stories she tried to listen to at any given chance. 

With his thumb tapping her lower lip, she parted her lips, exposing her tongue to the smirking man. He spat down on her tongue, forcing her to swallow – another gesture to claim her, to make her his, fully. Carlisle kept (y/n) pressed to the tree with one hand, while the other disappeared inside her panties, feeling her arousal sticking to her warm skin. Curses rang through the afternoon air, curses that wrapped themselves around the two, tying them even tighter together.

“Carlisle,” she mewled his name, eyes momentarily fluttering close as he circled her clit with his thumb, making goosebumps rise on her skin. “Don’t tease me, please. I was so good.” 

“Only since you’ve asked so nicely.” She was turned around with quick movements, front now pressed against the tree, behind pressed against his crotch. His hard cock rubbed against her, making (y/n) groan in anticipation, listening to the sound of Carlisle freeing his cock, spitting into his hand to lube himself up. He pulled her panties aside before he pushed into her, forcing a moan out of them in unison. 

She didn’t get any time to adjust, forced to take every inch of his cock, pulled closer whenever his hips met her behind. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her sounds from rumbling through her, eyes fluttering close, teeth buried in her lower lip to try and keep herself focused. His mere touch could transport her into another dimension, making her forget her surroundings, her own name, and even who she was. His to own, his to love. 

Carlisle’s hand found its way back to her throat, arm slung around her middle, to pull her further into his chest. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) tried to hold on, forcing her body to accept his every touch before she’d tumble over the edge way too soon. His hand around her throat kept her somewhat focused, feeling his fingers tighten their grip on her throat, making her awfully aware of the power he held over her.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, my perfect girl. You were made for me, even though I had to wait all these centuries to finally meet you.” Her heart skipped a few beats at his sweet words, pushing another wave of heat through her. (Y/n) couldn’t reply, could only try to claw her fingernails into his forearms, eyes momentarily fluttering open to take in their surroundings.

The tall trees surrounding them seemed to close in on them, keeping them hidden from whoever or whatever could be close, allowing them to give into their most primal longings. A sight forever etched into her mind, remembering the way he fucked her ruthlessly, mercilessly. 

“Carlisle,” she called out his name, a high pitched moan that told him how close she was, how much she wanted to give in, though wouldn’t without his command. He kept fucking into her, kept forcing her clenched walls apart with his eyes staring down on her, and his fingers possessively wrapped around her throat. 

“Cum for me, love, let go.” (Y/n) came with a moan, lips bleeding from the strength she used to bite down on the soft skin. Carlisle kept fucking her, groaning into her mouth as the feeling of her tightness around him grew even more intense. It took him a few more moments to follow her down the edge, painting her walls white with another raspy sound leaving him. 

“Jesus, where did that come from?” Her chuckles left him grinning, slowly pulling out of her with a groan, tucking himself back into his trousers as (y/n) also redressed herself. His lips met hers for a slow kiss, wrapping his arms around her to keep her close.

“Having you close to me is like a drug, I want you whenever I can have you.”

[itneverendshere]

a circus ain't a love story - baby daddy! rafe.

request: "baby daddy! rafe where reader and rafe are not together and she’s going on dates with men and he’s jealous but not like possessive jealous but like 🤭 jealous?" @zyafics

warnings: cursing; rafe's an asshole but he's just going through it <3; a lil angsty??; lots of tension and pent-up frustration; they just need to fuck it out honestly.

rafe likes to think of himself as a changed man. 

long gone is the reckless impulsive guy that reigned horror in the outer banks. he’s grown now, the man of the family, and a father. he spends his days working hard, providing for his family, and cherishing every moment with his baby girl. 

but when he learns you’ve been seeing other men after your ‘amicable’ breakup, he feels like he’s nineteen and ranging in misplaced anger all over again. younger days, when his temper ruled his actions and consequences were an afterthought.

old insecurities resurface, whispering doubts and fears into his mind.

you’d broken up before, years ago, and it barely lasted a month before both of you caved in. but now? now, you have a baby together, and for some reason, the breakup feels…permanent. 

he thought you just needed a breather from him, a little space to settle your mind after going through all the changes with your pregnancy. maybe he took you for granted, maybe he became too comfortable, too complacent in the belief that your love was unshakeable. and he’s paying for it. 

“where the fuck are you going?”

he knows exactly where you’re going, he’s just a masochist.

rafe’s always been vocal about his thoughts around you, having virtually no filter between his brain and mouth. it’s something you’ve gotten used to after five years in a relationship, the man is nothing if not blunt and crass. but now, it's different.

you’re not a couple anymore. you shouldn't have to put up with his nagging bullshit. but you have a child together, which means that you’ll never be able to fully scratch him out of your system. 

how were you so good before and yet so terrible once your daughter got here? 

you sigh, choosing to keep your back to him. 

“date.”

you hear him snort, not even having to peek to know he’s shaking his head, blue eyes lingering between your new dress and the ceiling, “my bad. thought you were going to a gala.”

you turn then, hand on your waist as you take him in. it’s hard not to stare at his freshly shaved hair and it only makes you want to slap him stupid for not doing it years ago. what’s the point if you can’t have him? 

“why? it’s not illegal to put in effort.” you tilt your head slightly, ignoring the way his eyes are burning holes through your shiny legs.

he pulls his eyes back to your face, but all you can see is the imprinted vision of your daughter laying on his chest earlier, her chubby cheek pressed against his shirt and her little hand curled around his finger. 

rafe’s heart clenches, the bitterness of your words sinking deep into his bones. he knows what you're implying, knows that you're trying to hurt him.

“he’s worth all that, huh?”

you shrug your shoulder, pieces of your hair falling back as you attempt to act nonchalantly, “maybe he is.”

rafe’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, half-grimace, a familiar expression that used to make your heart race but now just knots your stomach.

“who is it this time? it’s just kinda hard to keep track of your dates.”

his gaze lingers on you, searching for something, perhaps a hint of the girl he fell in love with, buried beneath layers of resentment and exhaustion.

you grit your teeth, the frustration growing beneath the surface threatening to spill over, “you don’t know him.”

he shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. “got yourself a touron?”

“don’t piss me off.”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m not trying to. just curious.”

“his name is mike.”

rafe's lips quirk into a sardonic smile as he hears the name. "mike, huh? sounds like a guy who sells insurance or teaches yoga on the weekends."

you shoot him a glare, unamused by his jest. "can you just be serious for once?"

catching sight of the offended look in your face, he adds, “it’s not my fault you keep choosing the ugly ones.”

you stare at him incredulously, “you don’t even know him!”

“hear me out, okay? if you’re ever going to give charlotte a sibling might as well—“

you’d throw the mug on your kitchen table at his head if charlotte wasn’t sleeping in the room next door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny don’t you?!” 

rafe hushes you, one of his hands rising to his lips, “what happened to no cursing in the house?”

your eye twitches, fingers itching to wrap themselves around his throat. “i’ll strangle you right here, rafe.”

“you got a new kink, mama?”

his ability to push your buttons has always been unparalleled, and it seems he's mastered the art even more since your breakup. he still manages to evoke a weird mixture of irritation and fondness within you.

“you can’t keep doing this. i like mike, maybe i want to date mike.”

rafe's expression shifts, his brows furrowing slightly as if your words have struck a chord. but then, just as quickly, his facade hardens again. he raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "i’m just trying to help. you said the exact same thing about whatever his fucking name was two months ago.”

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “see! you’re trying to patronize me.”

“’m not.”

“right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, “course you aren’t.”

his taunting smirk is more than a little infuriating. “i just doubt this guy is gonna stick around.”

“oh, so that’s it?” you prod him, laughing in his face, hands curling into tight fists. you get closer, staring him down as you look upwards. “we’re back to lying to each other now?”

rafe’s face is contorted into a grimace; eyebrows furrowed, and you can feel his steady breathing before he speaks.

”i can do this all day.” he scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “i think the moment you tell him about charlotte he’s gonna run back to whatever hole he creeped out of. you think he wants to be a daddy?”

“who said he has to? that’s your job. maybe i just want to fuck him, you ever think about that?” the admission feels like a betrayal and a liberation all at once.

it’s a familiar dance you two have been doing since the breakup – hurling accusations and blame at each other like weapons in a war neither of you can win.

rafe’s smirk fades into a scowl as your words hit him like a slap in the face. he takes a step back, one of his hands instinctively rising in a placating gesture, but there's a defiant glint in his eyes that tells you he's not backing down without a fight. 

his jaw tightens, “now you’re just trying to get under my skin.”

you throw your hands up in despair, “it’s always about you, unbelievable.” 

you feel like your heart is being vacuumed into your stomach as he stares.

“me?” his fingers dig into his chest, as if you’ve shot him right there, “you're the one who's constantly bringing up other guys, rubbing it in my face like- like i'm supposed to just sit back and take it."

you let out a slow controlled breath and attempt to loose your body movements. “we’re not doing this again.”

rafe knows he's treading on thin ice, but relents, “oh, m’sorry sweets. forgot you hate to be reminded i care.”

“care?” you laugh but it’s void of any humor, “is this your way of showing me you care? making me miserable? slut-shaming the mother of your daughter?”

“didn’t mean it like that, don’t twist my words.”

you square your shoulders, refusing to let him see the cracks in your armor. "you said what you said, and you can't take it back."

his jaw clenches, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he searches for the right words to say, “you’re pushing it.”

there’s a fiery anger in your eyes that makes his body warm. “so fucking what?”

without a word, rafe closes the distance between you, his movements tentative yet purposeful. his hand reaches out, fingers gripping your cheeks, his rough touch sending your body into a frenzy. you want to push him away, but the pull between you is too strong to resist. you’ve been yearning for his touch for months, no one knows how to pull your strings like he does.

“you drive me fucking insane, y’know that?”

you merely blink, pretending to be bored, “go fuck yourself.”

and then, in a rush of pent-up desire and frustration, rafe snakes a hand around the back of your head to pull you to meet him in a passionate kiss.

it’s all sorts of desperate as if trying to bridge the problems between you, you're arching into him as his hand trails down your spine. his tongue is brushing across yours in a tentative swipe before you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him urgently. there's a hunger in rafe’s touch, a desperation to reclaim what his lost, and you respond in kind, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles with a familiarity that sends shivers down his spine.

“you’re not going on a fucking date.” he pants between kisses, the way his lips caress your face keeping you close distracting you momentarily.

“you can’t stop me.” 

his hand slides around your waist, over the curve of your ass, grabbing a handful in the process, “watch me.”

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

[stealthetrees]

So this is more of an AU of the fandom AU where the Coruscant Guard live in a shitty run down building that’s falling apart. But Commander Fox finds this unacceptable so he clears out a warehouse used for storage and builds a shiny new headquarters. The original building they fix up, but only the lobby, a couple offices, and the med bay so troopers on senate duty can stay there due to its proximity to the senate building. Their new building they can go nuts with, adding all sorts of stuff that they arnt allowed to have.

An entire room is filled with tv monitors so they can slice into security cameras around the planet and see everything. They get a nice rec room, an area for the engineers to play around with ideas, even an office for the medics to make you talk about your feelings. A server room is dedicated solely to storing and orgonizing blackmail collected on pretty much everyone worth mentioning on Coruscant.

But after one secret building, what’s another? Areas of strategic importance are carefully chosen and a new headquarters is established nearby. They are each given code names. The original building is still Headquarters, the new main building is the Barracks. The Office is where they run intelligence and investigations from. IT Department is next to the industrial district. The Kennals are much lower than some of their other buildings, a small station set up to monitor the rancor infestation (Thorn moves down there to become a cowboy after he “dies” on Scipio). The Lobby is set in the lower civilian levels as a way to help the people who arnt rich enough to bribe politicians into getting what they want. The Med Bay started as just somewhere for big surgeries, physical therapy and prosthetics, but which the “generous donations” they acquire it grows into a hospital for civilians as well, completely free, and they start hiring nat born doctors, surgeons and nurses while paying them well and proving a great work environment. Adding a therapist office helped a lot of troopers as well.

The system takes a long time to build and works perfectly. Until Fox figures out Palpatine is a Sith. It’s not actually world shattering news, but it does give him a panic attack after realizing Palpatine though Fox already knew, because he had threatened the chancellor with a slug thrower instead of a blaster. Through questions to his batch mates with Jedi generals he learns that Sith can influence people’s minds and decides that in order for the clone rights bill to pass Palpatine needs to die.

And die he does. The rest of the conservative senators are swayed by a mix of blackmail, bribes, and bomb threats. The bill does pass, and most of them are instantly arrested for sentient rights violations, assault, and various other crimes because government property can’t serve as a witness in a civilian court of law.

The timing of all this could not be worse, as two of Fox’s batch mates where on planet, Cody and Wolffe, and they loved to stick their noses in his business. Which means when a lot of Corries are injured in the fight with the senate guards and private security while trying to make arrests, Cody and Wolffe help get them back to Headquarters, because it’s much closer than the Barracks. But Headquarters has a very small med bay because so few troopers use it. So they are over crowded and run out of bacta.

Also Cody gets turned around in the hallway and discovers how bad the rest of the building is. So Fox has a choice to make. He grabs Cody and Wolffe and drags them outside and back to the GAR barracks while texting Thire and telling him he has an hour and a half to make Headquarters look lived in. Then Fox opens a one way comm line with every Corrie so they can keep the story straight as he answers his brothers questions.

Fox commits to the bit so hard they believe the Guard is suffering horribly from abuse and budget cuts while in reality they just steal money from what ever rich person they have the freshest blackmail from. He could just tell them all the illegal things he’s been up to, but Fox would rather die than tell someone more than they needed to know.

[beyonsatan]

Here are some REAL astrological tips that I'm not just pulling out my ass and actually learned from reading

1. Aquarius is not ruled by uranus, aquarius is ruled by saturn. When astrologers discovered uranus they borrowed some of the traits of saturn and applied them to uranus because they didnt know what to do with this planet. Having strong uranus influence won't make you feel like an outsider but having a strong saturn influence will. Uranus does not rule "outcasts" or "obstruction" it rules sudden changes which we only associate with aquarius because of their eccentricity and the modern rulership of this sign, aquarius isn't as open to "change" as we would like to think they are, they're a saturn(restrictions) ruled fixed sign, they're more open minded and progressive than capricorn but they're more traditional and less accepting than we think pisces to be.

2. NO planet is unwelcome in the 5th and 11th house. Any personal planets in these houses including mars and saturn, especially the chart ruler is a sign of good fortune, wealth, successful investments and just an easy life in general because these houses are the joy of Venus and Jupiter, harmful planets here become neutralized and instead work to our benefit even with difficult aspects. Ex: Someone with a 5th house saturn might work high paying government jobs or become some kind of authority(saturn) figure sometime within their life.

3. What you've been taught about the north and south node is wrong. The north node is not "underdeveloped traits" The north node represents "increase" while the south node represents decrease, not your comfort zone and this is according to hellenistic and ancient astrology. The north node represents the dragon head while the south node represents its tail. Wherever your north node(the head) is, is where there's an infatuation and/or otherwise increase of energy and experiences, the south node (the tail) is something you abandoned (and shouldnt have) so you could focus on your north node, it's not necessarily something you need to let go of because that's like saying the dragon cut his tail off so he could keep his head lol, the dragon doesn't need to cut his tail at all, his tail is what's helping send him into the right direction because how do you expect him to move without his tail? In this case the south node is something you can rely on to assist you when handling the topics of your north node, that's the whole point. If south node was something that we needed to dismiss or free ourselves from it, there wouldn't be a south node, the south node and north node exist with each other, they HAVE to co-exist

4. I don't really debate about which house system to use when reading your own chart or others but when reading transits, synastry and composite charts, I strongly recommend using WS to make things alot less confusing.

5. The moon is a significator of money in alot of the same ways venus and jupiter are that's why the moon gets exalted in taurus. Moon in Taurus, Pisces, Sagittarius or Libra in the 3rd (house joy), 5th or 11th house is an indicator of wealth.

6. When outer planets transit your cadent houses please don't have a breakdown, planets in cadent houses have the weakest influence within a person's chart.

7. The houses responsible for fame are realistically the 5th, 7th house, 10th and 11th house and everything starts with the 5th house. Explanation: 5th house is the talent you have, the 11th house is your audience, you bring the talents you build upon in the 5th house for the world to see over into the 11th house, the 7th house is your relationship to law and the public, partnerships etc, if you wanna get contracts like a partnership with the NBA or picked to star in a movie, all of this would take place in the 7th house, the 10th house is the brand and image you cultivate after your name gets around from the 7th house, this house talks about your peak, how well did you do? Did you make it big? Planets here, where it's ruler is/and aspects will color all of this. Honorable mention is the 1st house cause the 1st house like the 10th house is angular and says alot about whether eyes are on you, do you get attention, are you an extrovert, are you confident or is building up those kind of things difficult for you, all of this gets answered in the 1st house.

8. Do not let any amateur astrologers gaslight you into thinking that having 8th or 12th house placements make you spiritual, spirituality gets its meaning from the 9th house and the 11th house where jupiter finds joy, planets in the 8th and 12th house is NOT for the weak and I don't mean to sound arrogant, I have 12th house placements and I'm aware that the 12th house doesn't get its meaning from pisces or jupiter, sprutuality is meant to be a good thing, planets in these houses is not a good thing so it is not wise to draw proximity there

9. Both Venus/ Jupiter and it's aspects is an indicator of marriage, the sign they're in, house placement and aspects will tell you more about your spouse (venus if you're attracted to women and jupiter if you're attracted to men)

10. Debilitated or fallen planets are liberated or in accidental dignity when in the angular houses or the 5th and 11th. Yes this counts for retrograde planets as well even tho i don't count retrogrades as a debilitaty. Think of them as having "redemption arcs" like negan from the walking dead, started out evil or In bad condition but it got better real fast or the challenges with that placement are easy to overcome. Ex: aquarius sun in the 1st house, aquarius is obviously debilitated under the sun because the sun and saturn are enemies and aquarius gets overwhelmed by the attention and self expression that comes with the sun but with the sun in the 1st house that luminary becomes apart of you, it's literally influencing your physical body and how you behave, with the sun here you have no trouble expressing yourself and actually like attention, so it's like having a leo rising but alot more intense

[devourable]

✎ the prodigy

sfw | tags : male!yandere student x gn! reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), obsessive behavior and thoughts, bullying, slight classism, gaslighting? i think

surprise! i came up w the idea of this guy like,,, two days ago and had to get him out my system 😭 i feel like all my yandere ocs are too nice (save for althea) so heres one thats an asshole. enjoy! reblog to support me :]

sterling cygnus has it all.

good looks, a wealthy family, and a place in one of the most prestigious private colleges that one could go to. aptly dubbed the ‘prince of ice’ by his classmates thanks to his cold demeanor and disdain for interpersonal connections, the young man had one goal in his mind since he started attending school.

to be the best!

sterling dedicated himself to his studies. nothing was more important to him than ensuring he got the top scores on every exam he took, sealing his place as number one in the academic field by any means necessary. no one dared to breach that. and anyone who even tried received his ire.

no one was going to stand up to him — why would they? they’d hate to end up like the poor guy who’s dorm was raided after he surpassed him. or the girl who did the same, resulting in her being forced to drop out after her father’s suspiciously sudden arrest left her unable to pay tuition fees. but of course, there was no real proof that sterling had caused both incidents. it was just a coincidence! right?

well… the day you came onto his radar was a day that left the entire student body tense.

everyone had gathered around the bulletin board where the latest exam results were posted. there were gasps of shock, murmurs, and even a small ripple of laughs floating through the otherwise quiet crowd. it was unusual. and when sterling had pushed his way to the front to gaze upon the list of student names with their scores beside them… he understood. and in an instant, he was furious.

he was in second place. and above his name, with a pretty 100% score next to it, was yours.

who the fuck did you think you were? coming to his school, earning the grade that he worked so hard to receive, and daring to take his place as number one?

sterling knew in an instant that you had to be a new student. he had all of the names of those who ranked just under him memorized, and yours wasn’t one of them. were you a transfer? a latecomer? he had no clue what the circumstances behind your sudden arrival was, and honestly? he didn’t care. you had taken his place, after he had worked so hard to get there. after he had been there for so long. you had taken his place. and he knew for a fact you didn’t deserve it.

but just as he resolved to figure you out so he could plan his revenge?

there you were. passing through the the slowly dispersing crowd to look at the leaderboard, your eyes locking with the name — your name — at the very top of it.

when sterling first saw you, he couldn’t even begin to understand the feeling that had suddenly flooded his senses. it was so strange… and why did the world suddenly feel a lot slower? why could he only notice you and him in the hallway? why did his heart skip in his chest when you glanced at him and your eyes locked?

if you had tried to say something to him, sterling didn’t even notice. he had hurried off before you could even speak.

he was sure he despised you after that point. he had to have, he told himself. the way his mind always drifted back to you when he was trying to study, angrily clicking his pen and gritting his teeth as he thought about your stupid hair and your dumb, adorable eyes, the way your uniform looked better on you than anyone else in the college — he didn’t even realize he was thinking about you so much until he snapped out of them and noticed how much time had passed.

he hated you. he had to. you had taken what was rightfully his, probably with dumb luck or cheating, and now you were invading his thoughts in such a way? was there nothing you wouldn’t take from him?

he was colder to you than anyone else. he had to be — you needed to learn your place around him. he’d ignore you in the halls and during class, and when you’d innocently ask him for his input on something, you’d be met with a sneer and a condescending retort.

“i don’t fraternize with people like you. don’t bother me.”

despite this, he’d always wander around near wherever you went. going to the library at the same time as you so he could snatch whatever book you had planned to check out away from you and take it for himself, making sure to go to the cafeteria just before you arrived so he could take what he knew was your favorite snacks, and he’d always be at the dorms before you — trying so hard to not stare at you when you passed by in your pajamas, fresh out of the showers.

your stupid body wash smelled so good… he couldn’t help himself when he snuck back to the locker room after hours to snag it for himself.

weeks after your arrival and sudden climb to the top, everyone was confused to see you were still attending the school. sterling would’ve taken out anyone else by then, what was so different about you?

but no one would ask, obviously. nor would anyone come to your aid when all of your pencils and pens were all mysteriously snapped in half one day. or when you’d find your notes torn into pieces and haphazardly stuffed back into your bag. and when you tried to alert staff about your dorm room’s door being ajar for some reason, they brushed you off even though you knew for a fact someone had gone through your things (‘nothing important’s gone? no bother pursuing the matter, then’).

with how much disdain and contempt he seemed to hold for you, it was so strange that sterling didn’t like the idea of no longer catching daily glimpses of you. or having access to your things.

so even though sterling went out of his way to make your school life nearly unbearable as revenge for coming along and doing just that to him first, he didn’t make the move to actually have you removed from the school and opted to torment you instead.

you deserved it, he told himself. far more than anyone who came before you.

he’d show you what happens when you bother sterling cygnus.