#so even if a cheap option was to pop up

[transgender-catboy]

nothin breaks my heart more than being a poor, uncrafty furry

[luveline]

hey love! first of all: i have to admit i started watching criminal minds for the first time earlier this year only bc of your spencer fics! can we get more stripper!reader and spencer? love your writing!!!

thank you!! It’s a slow routine. You begin in a crouch in your underwear, just like at the club. Chest to your knees, arms twisted with the backs of your hands touching. But, unlike at the club, this underwear is comfortable. There’s nobody watching, and you won’t make any tips. You don’t have a pole nor a stage. 

You run through the routine but forgo any pole tricks. You stretch for long, slow minutes, dancing from one space to another. The music in your head isn’t anything you’d play at home, but it works to keep time. You end on your knees again. 

It’s not fun. 

You stretch toward your phone and pick it up. Spencer’s texted you twice in the ten minutes you weren’t on it. 

Hi gorgeous, the first begins, do you want to sleep over? I can make you dinner. 

The second, Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever called you gorgeous before, is that weird? Please come over and pretend I didn’t say that if it was weird

A third pops up while you’re reading. Can I come get you? 

You text him back with pleasure. He’s the only guy in your life who talks to you just to talk, without thinking he could fuck you if he says enough right things, even though he has fucked you. Hi babe you can call me anything it’s not weird, I’ll come over! Not working this week, maybe I can stay two days(?) let me know so I can pack enough clothes 

You can stay all week, if you want to. I miss you 

You imagine him holding his phone, his cheeks pink with blush. 

I miss you too, you text back. 

Just bring what you want to and we can work it out later

Working it out later could mean anything with Spencer. He’s silly enough to try and put you in his clothes, and generous enough to take you shopping if it saves the time it takes to drive you home. 

You’ve packed a bag of clothes and shower things when your phone rings. Spencer’s contact photo covers the whole screen, the two of you together with your face cut out, his smile wide. You were both a teeny bit tipsy. 

“Hello?” you answer, bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Hi!” He sounds nervous. “I’m outside. Am I gonna get towed?” 

“Not if you stay in the car. I’m on my way down right now.” 

“Okay, see you in a second,” he says. 

He never looks comfortable behind a steering wheel. You aren’t sure why he doesn’t sell his car, maybe because it’s dirt cheap to maintain. He never seems happy to be driving is all. 

He smiles when you approach his door, which is better. He rolls down the window. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. You bend at the knees to see him better. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I had a weird feeling about you, like you weren’t alright.” 

You lean down further. “I’m okay.” 

He grins. You’re waiting for a kiss he doesn’t give, finding yourself a subject for his staring, completely still as his gaze follows around your face. He makes no move to kiss you, and for a moment insecurity blossoms. 

“Well, you look okay. Are you getting in? It’s cold,” he says, nodding toward the passenger side.

“No help with my bags?” you ask, closing the door when he tries to open it. “Kidding.” 

You round the hood and climb inside. Then Spencer kisses you, polite but emphatic, one on your lips and another just under your jaw as he squeezes your shoulder. You feed into them lovingly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place forever? That way I can stop missing you all the time,” he says, pulling away slowly. 

“And when the mystery is gone?” you ask. 

“I don’t want mystery with you.” 

Spencer takes your bag from your lap and shoves it into the back seat. You drop the smaller one on your shoes. 

“Do you wanna get pizza or something?” he asks. 

You hold your jaw where he’d kissed you. “Sure,” you say, tingles of his kiss lingering under your hand. 

“Or Chinese? What do you want?” 

You want more kisses, but you love that he always gives you options. “Pizza for sure. Curly fries, too. Hold my hand?” 

Spencer takes it with gusto over the gearstick, and whatever felt like it was missing earlier fills itself in. “Wait,” you say softly, before he can take the car out of park, “just…” You grab his side and drag him toward you for a hug. Holding hands wasn’t gonna be enough —Spencer doesn’t know it yet, but you love him, love how safe he makes you feel, love how fun he makes your life. You can be yourself with him, no matter who that really is.

Spencer holds you, his hand across your shoulder blade rubbing soft lines. 

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Break

It had only been a few weeks, but already I was over this. Three weeks to crush a dream. Honestly, the burnout had been bad but I thought summer would help. I would have more time to myself. Relax. Reset. But as the first deadlines started breathing down my neck, I was this close to snapping.

The longer I stared, the more I couldn’t take it. I needed a break. Something to take my mind off things. Even if just for a few days. I needed Hypnodope.

I first came across their ads freshman year, and I dared my roommate to take the plunge. Their website had a few options, so I popped on a random one, and input one hour, the lowest it went. I just expect it to be a one hour loop of weird mumbling and graphics that we would turn off after a minute or two. But I watched in awe as in a few short minutes, a tan started creeping from his finger tips down his arms. He didn’t react then, nor when hair turned a dirty gold and his body hair vanished. But he certainly did as muscle began pumping into his thin frame, moaning as each pulse stretched his now golden skin taut to his muscular frame. He began to hump at the air as he ripped through his clothes, giving me a full view of his rod between his legs, though it was quickly covered by his thick fingers as he began jacking off to the video. By the time he finally came, my roommate was no longer sitting in front of me. Instead, a horny, golden boy was eying me up and down, as he assessed whether or not I was worthy to suck his perfect cock.

He put in the work for that hour, no position off limits, no taste of his too bold as I submitted to him. But just after our second round, he trembled as his skin lost its hue. His muscles were sucked back into his frame, and my new roommate was back, blushing in front of me, as he rushed to put on some clothes.

I hadn’t been back to the site since then, a little too self conscious to explore the power I possessed. But after a night in the library from dusk to dawn, with no end in sight, I knew it may be the only way to force myself into a break. With caution I pulled up the site and scrolled the options.

I knew I didn’t want anything too serious. Certainly not the extent that my roommate had. But I wanted something that would take the edge off. And I think I found the perfect one: “Fucking Feral, Bro”. The name was a bit much, but it had basically everything I wanted. More muscle, boosted stamina, lowered inhibition and capacity for concern. I figured a few hours would be enough to try it out and have a great night out. So, I laid down, turned on the video, and prepared to be relaxed.

Almost immediately my brain felt fuzzy, like the static that was showing was in my head. Then, an image came into focus. It was some muscled up guy, stripped down to his speedo, not a care in the world as he posed for the camera. He looked like he was having fun. I wonder where he’s going? Must be relaxing…

I stretched out on my bed to get comfortable. For some reason I was just so tight. So uptight too. I didn’t need to be so stressed. A pressure I didn’t know I was holding was releasing from my head. It was so relaxing as I just lay back and stared deeper and deeper at the spiral now on screen. I could be just like the guy on the screen. No.

Like. My. Broooooo.

My hand drifted down to my cock at full attention. I didn’t even pause as I felt the heat radiating from it. My had just began gliding up and down. It was insanely sensitive. I bit my lip to keep the moans from escaping. As I stroked up and down, I felt it pulsing in my hand, swelling from five inches to six, then seven, growing more sensitive with each stroke. My toes were curling in my shoes, but soon felt constrained. I looked down to see the cheap leather straining to hold them in. With one flex of my foot, my size 12 soles ripped clean through. Meanwhile, my legs were getting some love, calves shredding while my thighs swole with muscles and fat. They squeezed against my heavy balls, increasing the raw animalistic pleasure I was devolving into as thick pre dribbled from my thick mushroom-tip and coated my monster.

By the time I started to worry a bit, it was too late. It was becoming hard to focus on my body, even as my gut sucked in and pushed out a perfect 6-pack and pecs chiseled from muscle and fat hung heavy on my chest. I could only focus on the changes rippling down my arms because the pump in my forearms was keeping me jacking and my thick fingers and calloused palms were much easier to wrap around my needy cock. I tried to stop myself, to will myself to turn off the now strobing screen. But the sensation was too much, and I could no longer hold back moans that were quickly deepening.

A fog of hormones was fully engulfing my brain now, dimming any reservations I could muster about my heightened state. I was moaning in heat at this point, ready to bury my cock in just about anyone. The video was edging me now, pushing as much change as it could before it released me. Every muscle in my body flexed, getting one last pump in. But as the video gave its command to cum, one pump was all I needed to coat the wall. I was left hot and panting, but somehow relaxed and insanely horny. As I checked myself out, dude I was sooo much hotter.

I let my free hand trace my abs and grab at my meaty pecs. Playing with my nips was like a whole new level bro, sent me into overtime. I couldn’t stop imagining the holes I needed to split open with this monster, just as I couldn’t stop just flexing, feeling the power surging through my veins. It was almost impossible to pull my hands away, but I knew I needed to hit the bars and get a few drinks in me. Bro, what was old me thinking, setting this for only the night? He was always such a bore anyways. I threw on the tightest tee shirt I could find, and some grey sweatpants. Rocking the fuckboi special, I was on the prowl for some ass to plow.

The night wasn’t great. Naw, it was excellent. Climbing back into my dorm room, I was soaked in sweat and reeked of sweat, beer, and cum. I had lost track of how many men I’d made my bitch that night. I at least remembered ripping off my shirt before sliding into one in the alley outside. God, I was a fucking show dude. Should have seen the faces of some of the dudes, I don’t think they were expecting me to switch so easily from topping to bottoming. I was an animal, I was feral.

I was out of control.

I may have been fighting through that horny haze, but I knew one thing for certain. In just a few hours I would wake up in my bed and immediately worry. Worry about the night, the consequences, the danger. And I would never get to have that much fun again in my life. Bro, it was so damn boring being such a square. Someone had to make a decision.

I turned back to my laptop and began scrolling through options. I needed someone like me, someone who would make sure we had a good time. I needed someone to maintain this lifestyle for years. Maybe we could make some physique upgrades too. But above all, I needed someone who couldn’t ever find a way to set us back. And there it was, the perfect candidate. As I added more and more time, some stupid warnings tried to pop up, but I didn’t care. I was already hard at just the thought of the bro I was about to unleash. I hit play and braced for impact. I was going to be so fucking dumb, dude.

The effect was immediate. My eyes were blinded by a bright flash on screen as a dull ringing buzzed in my ears and rattled my head. The world around me felt heavy and slow. Every muscle was on edge, trembling beneath some unseen weight. The world was pushing in around me. I was frozen in a moment of pressure. But then, at the front of my brain bro, it was warm. And tingly. And soooo relaaaaxed. As it rippled through my head, I couldn’t help but relax my face, eyes half closed, tongue out, drool drip

Drip

Dripping.

With each drip, it felt easier to relax, easier to thaw. And as I let each IQ point drip slowly out of my brain, off my tongue, and roll down my chest, I felt the waves crashing down my body.

It started in my shoulders, rolling into mountains of muscle, absurd in size even against my muscular body. But quickly it moved deep in my chest, pushing out from deep within my pecs. The sensation was overwhelming as with each strained breath muscle and fat hung heavier from my frame. I could even feel it as my nips stretched, wide and hard as diamonds. My arms began to loosen and instinctively brought themselves to massage my fat muscle tits. But soon they had to pull away, locked in a double-bicep pose as they inflated to near absurd proportions. As I flexed my forearms in and out, I felt the resistance growing as my biceps rolled back and forth. I was starting to truly feel hot and sweaty as the waves of muscles continued to ripple downward.

I could feel the heat as it started targeting my lower half. No longer toned muscle, it felt heavy against the bed even as I sat there. It throbbed as nearly any remaining fat on my body channeled into my ass, leaving it straining against the seams of my shorts. They were growing bigger by the minute. Though my cock and balls were certainly trying their best to compete. As my pouch was slowly becoming overstimulated by the pressure in their tight quarters, my cock was snaking down my leg to find space. I was ineptly pawing at my zipper, trying to find some release. But the final blow came as my thighs pushed out. The legs were busting through seams as I finally gave up and ripped through the remaining fabric, fervently stroking my heavy cock. Then it too started to drip…

Drip…

Drip.

As my cock began oozing, I felt like brain was slowly melting down. My thoughts felt heavy. I knew that the video was giving me commands, but I couldn’t even try to process them. I could only feel them slip deep in my brain bruh. I could feel him in there. Some version of me trying to keep it together. But he was getting real confused. And really horny. Heh, he was becoming just like the rest of me. Wasn’t it easier to just let my muscles talk? Wasn’t it easier to just feel out what to do? Wasn’t it easier to just give in and… and… be… duhhhh-

Can’t think. Gotta release. My balls are aching dude. I can’t hold onto these brains any more. I need it… I need… au… AUH… AUGHHHH

As the last of my brains shot out of me, I was left in a state of absolute happiness. No thoughts. No worries. Just heat and muscle. As the last of my brains shot out of me, I was left in a state of absolute happiness. No thoughts. No worries. Just heat and muscle.

I was perfect bro. The world came into focus as I sat up. I didn’t even realize my tongue was still hanging out.

It was a beautiful day outside, bruh. I just needed to find a hole to start it off with.

[messmersflame]

OK sth I really, really love about fields of mistria is how accessible it is for an adhd hoarder that also forgets everything and what I was doing in like 5 minutes, like myself

the map has npc locations by default! so even if their schedule changes, you can always find them!

quests never expire! you can work on them at your own pace, and even hold onto one's that require a seasonal item that you didn't have enough of before the season was up, until the season rolls around again!

they don't take your damn money or items when you pass out or die because you lost track of time or are bad at combat!

there's free soup in the tavern that restores a little stamina, and a fountain behind a breakable boulder that does the same! the baths are also pretty cheap, and you even get a few free usages after a certain quest!

it starts with storage in your house, AND! anything you had in said storage can be used for crafting without having to go and retrieve it!

if you don't know where to get an item for a quest, talking to various npcs can tell you where it is!

if you need a certain item for the museum collection, you can check out hints on where to get those in the museum itself! and every item that can go in the museum has a tooltip when you over over it, to tell you if you have already donated it or not!

items don't despawn! you can just toss stuff on the floor and come back for it later when you have the inventory space!

if you forget to check your calendar, that's fine! the npcs will tell you about any upcoming events a few times before it arrives, and the start of a new day will tell you if it's someone's birthday!

they give you tutorials in a narrative way, gradually introducing new systems and mechanics as you progress! and these are done via quests that you can go and complete whenever you're ready!

the village progression gives you plenty of rewards and things to help you with your farm, which is very encouraging to keep at it!

the upgrade system just builds up along with doing normal tasks like farming! and you can spend these points however, whenever you like, with many being available right from the start! and you can have all of them if you want, so no need to worry about indecision!

you can go to your diary at home and save whenever you like, and even make another one so you can place them in other areas!

little heart notifications pop up over npc's heads when you progress the relationship, so you have a quick reference on how close you are!

every friday (and saturday after you fix the bridge), all the npcs are in the same place! this makes chatting to everyone and handing out gifts easier if you have trouble remembering to do so!

you have to hold down the button to eat an item! so you don't accidentally poison yourself!

other accessibility options ive really been appreciative of are: being able to turn off rain/snowfall, flashing, screenshake ect. for those with sensitivity, sight, or neurological issues that don't play well with those.

[river-taxbird]

Have YOU got an old Windows PC Microsoft has told you can't run Windows 11? It's time to give it a new life!

How to install Windows 11 on unsupported PC Hardware using Rufus. You can also disable some other Windows 11 bullshit like data harvesting and needing a Microsoft account.

It has been in the news a lot lately that Windows 11 isn't allowed to be installed on PCs without certain requirements, including the TPM 2.0, a chip that was only included in PCs made in 2018 or later. This means that once Windows 10 stops receiving security updates, those PCs will not be able to (officially) run a safe, updated version of Windows anymore. This has led to an estimated 240 million PCs bound for the landfill. Thanks Microsoft! I get you don't want to be seen as the insecure one, but creating this much waste can't be the solution.

(I know nerds, Linux is a thing. I love you but we are not having that conversation. If you want to use Linux on an old PC you are already doing it and you don't need to tell me about it. People need Windows for all sorts of reasons that Linux won't cut.)

So lately I have been helping some under privileged teens get set up with PCs. Their school was giving away their old lab computers, and these kids would usually have no chance to afford even a basic computer. They had their hard drives pulled so I have been setting them up with SSDs, but the question was, what to do about the operating system? So I looked into it and I found out there IS actually a way to bypass Microsoft's system requirement and put Windows 11 on PCs as old as 2010.

You will need: Rufus: An open source ISO burning tool.

A Windows 11 ISO: Available from Microsoft.

A USB Flash Drive, at least 16GB.

A working PC to make the ISO, and a PC from 2018 or older you want to install Windows 11 on.

Here is the guide I used, but I will put it in my own words as well.

Download your Windows 11 ISO, and plug in your USB drive. It will be erased, so don't have anything valuable on it. Run Rufus, select your USB drive in the Device window, and select your Windows 11 ISO with the Select button. (There is supposed to be a feature in Rufus to download your ISO but I couldn't get it to work.?

Choose standard windows installation, and follow the screenshot for your settings. Once you are done that, press Start, and then the magic happens. Another window pops up allowing you to remove the system requirements, the need for a microsoft account, and turn off data collecting. Just click the options you want, and press ok to write your iso to a drive.

From there you just need to use the USB drive to install windows. I won't go into details here, but here are some resources if you don't know how to do it.

Boot your PC from a USB Drive

Install Windows 11 from USB Drive

If you had a licensed copy of Windows 10, Windows 11 will already be licensed. If you don't, then perhaps you can use some kind of... Activation Scripts for Microsoft software, that will allow you to activate them. Of course I cannot link such tools here. So there you go, now you can save a PC made from before 2018 from the landfill, and maybe give it to a deserving teen in the process. The more we can extend the lives of technology and keep it out of the trash, the better.

Additional note: This removes the requirement for having 4GB Minimum of RAM, but I think that requirement should honestly be higher. Windows 11 will be unusable slow on any system with below 8GB of RAM. 8GB is the minimum I think you should have before trying this but it still really not enough for modern use outside of light web and office work. I wouldn't recommend trying this on anything with 4GB or less. I am honestly shocked they are still selling brand new Windows 11 PCs with 4GB of ram. If you're not sure how much RAM you have, you can find out in the performance tab of Task Manager in Windows, if you click the More Details icon on the bottom right. If you don't have enough, RAM for old systems is super cheap and widely available so it would definitely be worth upgrading if you have a ram starved machine you'd like to give a new life.

[wandascosmic]

get your humor like i do (3)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part three of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 2871

tags: best friends to lovers, reader being completely in love with wanda, wanda's an oblivious best friend, i might mean oblivious to her own feelings as well but who knows, both of them being complete dorks, reader messing with sam with wanda as her pranking accomplice

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“Last night, on trading spouses,” you told Wanda enthusiastically, leaning over her desk on your elbows. 

“Uh huh,” Wanda nods, chewing on the end of her pen as she listens to your story with a smile. 

“There was- oh, wait, have you seen it?” a look of realization comes across your face. 

“No, actually, I have a life,” Wanda jokingly responds. 

You laugh, “Interesting,” you played along, “What’s that like?” 

“Fun, you should try it sometime,” Wanda quips back. 

“Wow,” you said thoughtfully, staring off with a wistful look in your eye. “But then who would watch my TV?” you remark. 

Wanda laughed agreeingly as she looked up at you from her chair. 

“That’s sort of like a win-lose-” you continue until Tony’s voice interrupted your sentence.  

“Y/N, can I see you for a minute please?” 

Giving your favorite receptionist an apologetic look, you nod before following your boss into his office.

Wanda frowns slightly, sighing as she picks up her phone and gets back to work. 

***

“I need you to help me decide on which healthcare plan the office should be on, then explain it to the rest of the office,” Tony says to you as you sit across from him at his desk, handing you the large stack of papers with the various healthcare plan options. 

You nod slightly, “Wow, this is a great offer,” you point out, truthfully not believing your lie for a second. 

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Tony replies with disinterest. 

“But Tony, I really think I should be concentrating on sales,” you told him, holding back a smile at your plan. “I just don’t think this is a task that I’m well-equipped for, but I do know someone who is.” 

“Wow, who’s that?” Tony answers monotonely. 

“I think Sam would be great for this. You know, he’s smart, hardworking-” you sell your idea. 

“Sure, yeah, whatever, go get him then,” Tony cuts you off.  

You nod in agreement, smiling as you walk out of Tony’s office. 

Sam was such a sucker. 

***

“You did it again,” Wanda remarks, seeing Sam sitting in Tony’s office through the window, excitedly taking the papers Tony handed him. 

“I did,” you admit, smiling at her as you're back at her desk once more. 

“I can’t believe that actually works every time,” she says with a laugh. 

You shrug. “Sam’s such a suckup that he’ll do anything to get on Tony’s good side. So, naturally, in his good nature he should be glad to do any task Tony gives him. Even the ones he gave to me first,” you say smugly, popping a candy from the dish at her desk into your mouth.  

“You’re quite devious,” Wanda teases. 

“All in a day’s work, Maximoff,” you reply with a grin. 

***

Sam has fucked up awfully. You suppose it's no surprise since Sam has a limited understanding of natural human needs, however, his healthcare plan is basically as cheap as a gas station slushie. Everyone in the office is completely outraged.

You and Wanda have decided to attempt to convince Sam to fix his plan, as the health care coverage he’s chosen is basically second to none. 

“Sam,” Wanda says as she opens the door to the conference room with you following behind her with your hands in your pockets. 

“Wanda, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?! This is an office,” Sam says exasperated from the table he’s sitting at with papers scattered all over as you and Wanda stop to stand in front of him. 

“It says workspace,” you point out, nudging your head toward the sign on the door, knowing Sam had argued toward the title of office, but Tony had told him no. 

“Same thing,” Sam argues, reading over the papers. 

“If it’s the same thing, then why did you write ‘workspace’?” you ask with curiosity.

“Just knock, Y/N,” Sam says frustrated. “It’s a sign of respect, and as your superior, I deserve that respect.” 

“You’re not my superior,” you retort.

“Ok, well, then why do I have an office?” 

You tilt your head slightly. “I thought it was a workspace, Sam?” 

“Okay!” Wanda interrupts, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Sam, are you really in charge of picking the healthcare plan?” she asks the worker in front of her, crossing her arms over her button-up shirt. 

“Yes, and my decision is final,” he responds with assertiveness.

“This is a ridiculously awful plan, Sam, you cut everything,” Wanda explains to him, her worry increasing at the fact that it might as well be considered as having basically no health care coverage whatsoever. You rub your hand slightly across her back, noticing the slight furrow in her brows indicating the fact that she’s worried. 

Sam pouts in fake pity, ignoring the scene in front of him. “Well, times are tough, Wanda. Might as well get used to it.” 

You narrow your eyes, his dig at Wanda irritating you slightly. “You cut more than you had to, didn’t you?” you cut in, knowing Sam’s lack of sympathy for anything related to the human race. 

“Sure,” Sam shrugs without care. 

“Well, why did you do that?” you ask, not understanding why he wouldn’t want health care coverage for himself as well. “You work here, Sam, don’t you want good insurance?” 

Sam scoffs. “I don’t need it, Y/N,” he says obviously. “I’ve never been sick. I have a perfect immune system.”  

You and Wanda look at each other in uncertainty. “Okay, well if you’ve never been sick, then you don’t have any antibodies,” you explain to him.  

“I don’t need them. I have superior genes, I’m a Wilson. And on top of that, I have superior brain power. With extreme concentration, I can raise and lower my cholesterol at will,” he argues.

“Why would you want to raise your cholesterol?” Wanda asks, looking at Sam warily. 

“So I can lower it, obviously.” 

***

“Everyone, gather around,” Sam announces, stepping out of the conference room, looking frustrated. 

You swivel around in your chair to face him, ready for whatever irritating thing will come out of his mouth this time. 

“It has been brought to my attention that some of you are unhappy with my plan,” he says, his annoyance seeping through. “So what I’d like you all to do, is to fill out this form and write down any diseases you might be suffering from that you would like covered, and I’ll see what I can do, since you people are weak enough to get sick.” 

You raise your hand, a clear issue in his plan sticking out to you. “Sam,” you cut in, and he looks at you irritated. “Well, we can’t write down our diseases for you because that’s confidential.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay, well, I didn’t say to write your name down, did I?” he answers sarcastically. “You can fill it out, and leave it anonymous. Or, don’t write down any disease at all, and it won’t be covered. “Sam slams the forms on the shelf next to the wall. “Alright, I’ll be in my office.” He retreats back into the conference room. 

“Workspace,” you remind him. 

Sam slams the door closed. 

***

You stand at Wanda’s desk, the two of you filling out your forms together in silence. 

Looking over at Wanda, you notice her biting back a smile as she fills out her form. 

“Wait, what are you writing?” you ask with curiosity. 

She looks up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Don’t write ‘Ebola’, or ‘mad cow disease’,” you tell her, her smile faltering slightly. “‘Cause I’m suffering from both of them,” you grin, showing her your paper. 

Wanda laughs. “I’m inventing new diseases,” she reveals. 

“Oh, great,” you lean further over her desk, intrigued. 

“So, like, let’s say my teeth turn to liquid,” she describes. “And then, they drip down the back of my throat, what would you call that?” 

“I thought you said you were inventing new diseases, Maximoff,” you wave your hand in an obvious gesture. “That’s spontaneous dento-hydroplosion,” you describe with a smile. 

Wanda looks at you, impressed. “Nice,” she states. 

“Thank you,” you respond, smiling as you watch her write down the fake disease excitedly. 

***

“Y/N!” Sam growls from the conference room, rushing out the door. “All right, who did this?” he yells, holding up the forms.  

“What are you talking about?” you ask with a tilt of your head, still standing at Wanda’s desk. 

“Someone here forged medical information, and that is a felony,” Sam accuses, narrowing his eyes at every one of the office staff. . 

“Whoa, that’s a pretty serious accusation there, Sam,” you warn, holding up both your hands in fake surrender. “How do you know that they’re fake?” you ask him. 

“It’s obvious, Y/N,” Sam retorts. Reading out the diseases, he lists, “These hysterical diseases like, flesh-eating bacteria.” You snort.  “Hot dog fingers.” 

“Wow, that sounds awful,” you whisper quietly to Wanda who snickers at your dig.  

“And my least favorite,” Sam reads out. “Government-created killer nano-robot infection.” 

Wanda looks up at you cheekily, and you widen your eyes, impressed. 

“You did this, didn’t you?” Sam accuses you, as you turn back around, narrowing his eyes. 

“Absolutely not,” you answer calmly. 

“Yes, you did.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“I know it was you,” Sam argues. “Okay, you know what,” Sam says frustrated. “I’m going to have to interview each and every one of you until the perpetrator makes him or herself known. And until then,” he pauses. “There will be absolutely no healthcare coverage for anyone!” Sam yells out, retreating back into his workspace and slamming down the papers in anger. 

Holding in your smile, you ask, “Killer nano-robots?” you inquire to the receptionist in front of you. 

“It’s an epidemic,” Wanda shrugs with a playful glint in her eyes, smiling at you.

You shake your head in amusement.  

***

“The problem, Y/N,” Sam starts. 

“Mhm,” you acknowledge, sitting across from him in the conference room. 

“Is that the people who are really suffering from a medical condition won’t receive the care they need, because someone in this office is coming up with all this ridiculous stuff.” He picks up a form. 

You listen with fake intrigue. 

“For example, Count Choculitis,” he reads out. 

You whistle. “Sounds tough.” 

“Why did you write that down, Y/N? Is it because you know I love Count Chocula?” he says with seriousness. 

“Do you?” you ask. 

“I think you need to confess,” he explains.  

“Mhm,” you nod, standing up out of your chair. 

“The fact-” 

“Yup.” You grab his keys from his desk. 

“What are you doing?” he asks in confusion. 

“What?” you ask, as you open the door and walk out. 

“Those are my keys, Y/N,” he tells you, slowly standing up out of his chair. 

“Good luck,” you tell him, starting to close the door on him. 

“Y/N!” he sprints after you, the door closing before he can stop it from closing. “Damn it!” he slams his palms on the door window in frustration.   

Locking the door completely, you hold the keys by their key ring to taunt him, then smile as you throw them behind your back where they land across the room. 

“Let me out!” he bangs on the door. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” you retort, plopping yourself down at your desk as you can’t stop the shit-eating grin on your face. 

***

You smirk as your phone starts to ring. 

“Y/N L/N,” you say mockingly as you answer. 

“Let me out,” Sam says immediately through the phone. 

“Who is this?” you reply, swiveling around in your chair to face him as he glares daggers at you. 

“Let me out or you’re fired,” he fights back. 

“No, you can’t fire me,” you say as you turn back around, putting your feet up on the desk. 

“Yes, I can, I’m the manager for the day,” he retorts. 

“Mhm,” you nod, not believing him for a second. 

“Clean out your desk,” he continues. 

“Ok.”you reply, when suddenly,  your phone rings again. “Can you hold on one second?” you tell Sam as if you’re speaking to a customer. “I’m getting a, uh, beep.” 

“No, don’t you dare put me on hold!” Sam shouts. 

You ignore him, answering the incoming call. “Y/N L/N,” you introduce. 

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Wanda,” you hear the smile in her voice. 

“Hey, Wanda!” you say enthusiastically,  “How are ya?” Wanda playing pranks with you was a long-time tradition in your friendship, and it was something you treasured very close to your heart. Plus, it made you fall in love with her even more every time. 

Sam bangs on the door, interrupting your train of thought. “For god’s sake, Y/N, open the door!” he shouts from the conference room. 

You ignore him, continuing your conversation with Wanda. 

“I’m doing good, how are you?” Wanda answers, watching you with a grin on her face. Playing pranks with you was probably one of her favorite things in the world. 

“I’m doing ok,” you respond through the phone. “Getting excited for the weekend though.” 

“Yeah, same, oh, I’m not bothering you, am I?” Wanda asks, biting her fist to hold in her laughter. 

“No, not at all!” You reassure, turning your chair to look over at Wanda as she looks back at you with her glistening smile. 

“No? You don’t have anything you’re doing?” she says mischievously. 

“I have absolutely nothing to do,” you shake your head. 

“Y/N! Sam yells from the conference room, banging on the door once more. 

“Yeah, no, this weekend, I’ve got nothing,” Wanda says on the phone with you. “I’m not really doing anything.” 

“Y/N!” Sam shouts again. “Stop flirting with Wanda and let me out!” 

“Might go to the mall,” Wanda continues. 

“The mall,” you repeat. 

“I need new shoes,” she tells you. 

“Oh, interesting, what kind of shoes?” 

Wanda finally breaks as she laughs. 

You smile, wanting to mess with Sam a bit more both for your entertainment and Wanda’s, you hold up your eraser to show her and she nods as she knows what you’re about to do. Turning around, you show Sam the eraser as well, then throw it directly at the window where he’s standing with fury in his eyes. 

“I tried being rational!” Sam shouts at you. 

***

“Tony, why did you leave Sam in charge of the healthcare plan?” Nat asks Tony, as he steps out of his office, the rest of the workers surrounding their boss in a circle. 

“What did he do?” Tony asks disinterestedly, reading over the magazine in his hands. . 

“His plan is awful, it’s basically a pay decrease,” Bruce explains to him. 

Seeing Sam walk out of his workspace as he finally unlocks the conference room door after trying to pick it for an hour, the workers start to shout at hiim in frustration. 

“Sam, what did you do?” Tony interrupts. “Didn’t you raise benefits?” 

“I most certainly did not,” Sam retorts, crossing his arms and glaring back at everyone who looks at him in anger. 

Tony sighs, exasperated. “I should’ve never let you do this,” he puts his head in his hand.  “Alright, everyone, go home, it’s after 5, I’ll call corporate and have this fixed by the end of tomorrow.” 

The workers mutter their distaste for the awful day they’ve had, starting to scatter and pack up their things.  

“This isn’t over,” Sam tells you as you and him both pack up your things at your desks. 

“Can’t wait, Sam,” you smirk at him as he scoffs back, bumping into your shoulder as he starts to walk out with his briefcase in his hand. 

***

After packing your messenger bag, you run up to Wanda’s desk, drumming your fingers on the ledge as you ask her if she would like to walk out with you. 

“Sorry, Y/N,” Wanda apologizes. “Vision’s on his way up now to pick me up so we can leave together.” 

“Oh, okay, no problem,” you assure, your heart slightly deflating as you hear about her fiance once more. 

“Thanks,” Wanda smiles.  

“Yeah, you too,” you respond. “Hey, uh, that was great, how you helped me out with messing with Sam.”

Wanda laughs. “Yeah, that was fun. You really got him today, it was awesome.” 

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” you tell her with a soft smile. 

Wanda looks at you with affection, and you stare back at her, admiring the infinite green swirls in her eyes. 

Clearing your throat you say, “So, um, I should probably head out.” You point to the door behind you. 

“Oh, yeah,” Wanda nods with realization. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Maximoff,” you bid her goodbye with a wave. 

Closing the door behind you as you step out of the office, you sigh at the day you’ve had, chuckling slightly at how you messed with Sam. 

As you descend the flight of stairs to walk out to your car, a small smile makes its way across your face at the thought of a certain green-eyed brunette who always managed to brighten your day with just a simple look.

part 4

[raincoat-movings]

My abusive mother is trying to institutionalize me & put me in a conservatorship. Please help me fund my escape plan across a few states.

This is a remake of my original post that lost traction as it gained over 4k notes, but I still need help. Things have gone to shit I need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. That means the moving fee will be much more, but if we can get enough I am going to go for it as soon as May (I have to give a 30-day notice to my current landlord before I can leave) or June instead of my original post's estimate.

My mother has sold her house and is bringing her pets to the new house, but she is leaving my cat behind with the new owners knowing that will upset me. She gave me a few options - move in with her and I can keep him in my room, I can let her leave him with strangers whom I don't know or know what they'll end up doing with him, or I can pay the pet deposit on my current apartment of 350 dollars to have him with me instead. I would like to have my cat back as I have been alone in this apartment since I moved, and I am so afraid of her giving him to strangers and something happening to him before I can take him with me when I can move.

Since she is moving she has also informed me today she is also giving me another choice - move in with her to keep rides or stay in my current apartment and not have rides to the grocery store + doctors. Insurance can help me with the issue of the appointments, but I need rides to the city next to me as the town I live in has no store with decent prices on food. Everything is priced to hell here - I used to ride with my mom to Costco or Walmart where I could get a lot out of my food stamps - those are out of my reach without a car. (We do not have public transportation here. It is a small town. We don't even get pizza delivery here unless it's from doordash the city next to us.) As stated in the original post I will be renting an apartment with my beloved, but they are 3 states away so this is not going to be cheap. I am getting my stuff professionally moved as I cannot make the trip myself as it would cost more, be worse on my body, things can happen with me being alone, it will not be insured, etc.

Again, I am so sorry for having to remake this post I am sure many of you are tired of seeing me pop up on here, but I want my cat back + this is getting very fucking bad so I need to get out of here soon as I can.

paypal: partange1 cashapp: par1demon wishlist: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/37P45EQYVHZZT?ref_=wl_share <- This has cat, medical (I am disabled + get injured a lot), and packing supplies you can directly buy for me in case you can't donate through paypal or cashapp

[autolenaphilia]

The main reason to use Firefox and Linux and other free and open source software is that otherwise the big tech monopolies will fuck you as the customer over in search of profits. They will seek to control how you use their products and sell your data. When a company dominates the market, things can only get worse for ordinary people.

Like take Google Chrome for example, which together with its chromium reskins dominate the web browser market. Google makes a lot of money from ads, and consequently the company hates adblockers. They already are planning to move to manifest V3, which will nerf adblockers significantly. The manifest V3 compatible chrome version of Ublock Orgin is a "Lite" version for a reason. Ublock's Github page has an entire page explaining why the addon works best in Firefox.

And Google as we speak are trying to block adblockers from working on Youtube, If you want to continue blocking Youtube ads, and since Youtube ads make the site unuseable you ought to want that, it makes the most sense to not use a browser controlled by Google.

And there is no reason to think things won't get worse. There is for example nothing stopping Google from kicking adblockers off their add-on stores completely. They do regard it as basically piracy if the youtube pop-ups tell us anything, so updating the Chrome extensions terms of service to ban adblocking is a natural step. And so many people seem to think Chrome is the only browser that exists, so they are not going to switch to alternatives, or if they do, they will switch to another chrominum-based browser.

And again, they are fucking chromium itself for adblockers with Manifest V3, so only Firefox remains as a viable alternative. It's the only alternative to letting Google control the internet.

And Microsoft is the same thing. I posted before about their plans to move Windows increasingly into the cloud. This already exists for corporate customers, as Windows 365. And a version for ordinary users is probably not far off. It might not be the only version of Windows for awhile, the lack of solid internet access for a good part of the Earth's population will prevent it. But you'll probably see cheap very low-spec chromebookesque laptops running Windows for sale soon, that gets around Windows 11's obscene system requirements by their Windows being a cloud-based version.

And more and more of Windows will require Internet access or validation for DRM reasons if nothing else. Subscription fees instead of a one-time license are also likely. It will just be Windows moving in the direction Microsoft Office has already gone.

There is nothing preventing this, because again on the desktop/laptop market Windows is effectively a monopoly, or a duopoly with Apple. So there is no competition preventing Microsoft from exercising control over Windows users in the vein of Apple.

For example, Microsoft making Windows a walled garden by only permitting programs to be installed from the Microsoft Store probably isn't far off. This already exists for Win10 and 11, it's called S-mode. There seem to be more and more laptops being sold with Windows S-mode as the default.

Now it's not the only option, and you can turn it off with some tinkering, but there is really nothing stopping Microsoft from making it the only way of using Windows. And customers will probably accept it, because again the main competition is Apple where the walled garden has been the default for decades.

Customers have already accepted all sorts of bad things from Microsoft, because again Windows is a near-monopoly, and Apple and Google are even worse. That’s why there has been no major negative reaction to how Windows has increasingly spies on its users.

Another thing is how the system requirements for Windows seem to grow almost exponentially with each edition, making still perfectly useable computers unable to run the new edition. And Windows 11 is the worst yet. Like it's hard to get the numbers of how many computers running Win10 can't upgrade to Win11, but it's probably the majority of them, at least 55% or maybe even 75%. This has the effect of Windows users abandoning still perfectly useable hardware and buying new computers, creating more e-waste.

For Windows users, the alternative Windows gives them is to buy a new computer or get another operating system, and inertia pushes them towards buying another computer to keep using Windows. This is good for Windows and the hardware manufacturers selling computers with Windows 11 pre-installed, they get to profit off people buying Windows 11 keys and new computers, while the end-users have to pay, as does the environment. It’s planned obsolescence.

And it doesn’t have to be like that. Linux distros prove that you can have a modern operating system that has far lower hardware requirements. Even the most resource taxing Linux distros, like for example Ubuntu running the Gnome desktop, have far more modest system requirements than modern Windows. And you can always install lightweight Linux Distros that often have very low system requirements. One I have used is Antix. The ballooning Windows system requirements comes across as pure bloat on Microsoft’s part.

Now neither Linux or Firefox are perfect. Free and open source software don’t have a lot of the polish that comes with the proprietary products of major corporations. And being in competition with technology monopolies does have its drawbacks. The lacking website compatibility with Firefox and game compatibility with Linux are two obvious examples.

Yet Firefox and Linux have the capacity to grow, to become better. Being open source helps. Even if Firefox falls, developers can create a fork of it. If a Linux distro is not to your taste, there is usually another one. Whereas Windows and Chrome will only get worse as they will continue to abuse their monopolistic powers over the tech market.

[rad-roche]

Pulp Covers And How To Paint Them

With the rise of cheap printing in the early twentieth century, mass-marked paperbacks swept the world, each offering lurid thrills for obscenely low prices. Sex, sadism, and incredible violence for as little as ten cents. An easy purchase to slot in between fifty cigarettes a day and enough bourbon slugs to kill a small garden.

Pulp fiction is where some of the greats of American literature cut their teeth, including the big three, Raymond Chandler, Ross MacDonald and Dashiell Hammett. The contents of these stories, both the dizzyingly good and astoundingly terrible, have been absorbed and digested and remixed and regurgitated in nearly every permutation imaginable, fuelling pop culture some one hundred years on. This isn't an essay on that. Nobody likes to open a tutorial and be greeted with a wall of text. The history is for another time.

But it is about how to paint it.

Don't let the pre-amble intimidate you, it's not as hard as it sounds. You will need:

Painting software with some image editing capabilities. You don't need all the bells and whistles of Photoshop, but I wouldn't recommend something like MSPaint, at least not to start with. I'm using Clip Studio Paint.

A really beat-up paper texture. The grungier, the better.

A lightly-textured brush. Here are the specific brushes I use, 99% of which is the well-named rough brush. Try and avoid anything with any impasto elements.

Go to your colour-picking tool and use the 'select from layer' option. Doing all the painting on a single layer is going to make your life easier.

A complete willingness to make mistakes and, instead of erasing, painting over them. It generates much more colour variation and interest! Keep your finger off the E key.

Good reference! That painting is a master copy of Mitchel Hooks' art for Day of the Ram. Find a style you really love and want to learn? Have no clue where to begin? Do direct studies!

Let's not worry about whatever is happening in the background. It's probably fine. Let's get started! Pulp magazine art is a lot more varied than you might first think, so don't agonize over having a style that 'fits' or not. I'm also specifically aiming for something you'd see on the cover after printing, not the initial painting they would use for printing. The stuff I'll show here is a pretty narrow band of it, but here are some general commonalities. This is a painting by Tom Lovell.

Let's dig into this.

The colours are very bright and saturated, but the actual values, the relative lightness and darkness of them, are actually grouped very simply! You can check this by filling a layer full of black, putting it on top and setting its mode to colour. If the value of a painting looks good, you actually get a lot of leeway with colour. But here's what I think is the most important thing to keep in mind.

The darks aren't that dark, and the lights aren't all that light! Covers are paintings reproduced on cheap paper. Anything you wouldn't want to happen in the printing process, you lean into. Value wash-outs, lower contrast, colours getting a weird wash to them, really gritty texturing. So let's get painting! Here's my typical setup.

That bottom folder is the painting itself. The screen layer is the grungy paper texture. To get the effect you want, put it down, invert its colour, then set it to screen. That washes out your painting far, far too much, so to compensate, I put a contrast layer up on top. Fiddle around with the settings, but this is where mine ended up sitting.

Note I'm saying this before even starting the painting: you want to do this as early as possible. This is where the 'select from layer' colour picker comes in handy. You can paint without worrying about the screen or contrast layer. Something not looking right? Enable your value check layer and keep painting. When you turn it off, it'll still be in colour. Here's a timelapse so you can see what that looks like.

And when you check the values...

They're pretty simple! This isn't a be all and end all, but I hope it serves as a decent primer. I want thirty dames on my desk by Monday!

[seat-safety-switch]

You might think that buying a train is expensive. They're made of a lot of metal, after all, and scrap prices are quite healthy at the moment. Not only that, but the railroads own all the rails, and those greedy monopolists don't want you to bring your free-enterprise, private individual train on them. There is another option.

You see, railways have these special little trucks, called hi-rails. They're basically strangely narrow pickup trucks, with a little train part on their front and rear, used to maintain the railway (trains are too bourgeois to do their own maintenance, and leave it to "lesser" vehicles.) When these hi-rails get on the tracks, they can turn into trains. Rail cops hassling you? Pop off and drive away like a regular old pickup truck.

Here's the real secret: these things are super cheap at auction. And why wouldn't they be? The only folks who can use them are railways, who already have trucks of their own. Sure, they take the train parts off the truck to make sure you don't do exactly what I'm doing, but any idiot can take a tape measure to some train tracks, and figure out how to cut through the fence at the locomotive maintenance yard to get some wheels. Now, I'm commuting to work using efficient public transit – but doing so with heated seats, cupholders, and satellite radio.

Sure, there are some downsides. Most of my city's transit network is underground, so I spend a lot of time reversing really fast out of tunnels. Years of railway maintenance engineers jumping in and out of it have worn the seat bolsters down quite a bit. And it doesn't go "choo-choo," or even feature a train horn, which was a major disappointment the first time I got on it. Overall, though, I can strongly recommend picking up disused rail-maintenance equipment and committing several federal crimes. Getting to skip the long red light between the Home Depot and my house by jumping into a subway tunnel has paid for itself in, like, a weekend.

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Grocery Shopping ft. Anemo Boys

(Based On Stuff My BF and I Have Done)

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Heizou, Kazuha, Wanderer(Scaramouche), Aether

Contains: Modern AU, Everyday Life, Fluff, Swears

A/N: I was at the grocery store and the idea popped in my head 🥰

--

VENTI - Humming Along To The Music

From the moment you stepped inside to the moment you leave. He will be humming. Tapping his finger to whatever royalty free song is playing over the speakers. You used to asked him why he never listened to his own music when you were shopping.

"But if I did that, then I'd be ignoring you. Isn't it better to be together in the moment?"

"Yeah, in the moment of Funky Town for the thirtieth time? I'm flattered."

It gets worse with every trip. It slowly evolves into mumbling the lyrics, then singing the lyrics out loud, swaying along to the music, and sometimes full on dancing with no remorse. Not a single bone of shame in his body, and you have to watch your boyfriend shake his ass while you facepalm.

"I am never taking you shopping again."

"We both know that's a big fat lie, babe. You love having me around~"

God, you hated his smug grin. Let this shopping trip be done as soon as humanly possible.

XIAO - Carry All The Groceries/Steer The Cart

He will always man the cart. Don't you dare take it away from him, he has pouted at you before when you absentmindedly grabbed one and started shopping.

You seriously have no clue why he enjoys it so much, but you can't complain, it gave you time to actually focus on picking what you wanted. And you didn't have to worry about navigating traffic in the aisles. But he will nudge the cart into you when you're taking too long, you'll always turn back to meet his glare.

"Are you done yet? We need to get a move on."

"Hey, I am the chef of the house. If you don't like how I pick the ingredients, you can cook for a change."

That'll usually shut him up. He'll still silently nudge the cart into you though, after a while you get the idea and pick up the pace. When you finish shopping, he will always take the heavier bags. Even when you offer, he insists that it isn't an issue and leave you with the lighter bags. Sometimes nothing at all.

You appreciate his help, not like you wanted to carry them anyways. You still have to scold him about being delicate with the eggs.

KAZUHA - Cannot Decide On What To Take

"Baby, for the love of god, please pick a thing and stick with it!"

You've been in the aisle for over five minutes, he can't decide on what kind of rice to buy. This isn't a price issue. Kazuha's stuck thinking in the longterm: What kind of rice is best? Should we buy a bulk bag to last longer? Which type will work best with dinner tonight? (It's Jasmin. Always Jasmin. Cheap and reliable.)

You don't care! You just want to be in any other aisle but this one! But you're being hypocritical, you've done the exact same and everytime he'll give you a specific look. Nothing else, not a frown, not even a smug grin, just a look.

"Okay, but why does this package say sugar-free but it has the same level in the nutrients on the back?" You pause and glance over, you frown. "What?"

"I haven't said anything, dear."

"You don't need to. I know that look, it's Kazuha for I'm Judging You."

HEIZOU - Comparing Item Prices

He's the type of person to lay out all his options and pick the cheapest one with the best quality. There may be meat on sale today, but he knows it's only because they're going to expire soon. This can be useful at times, no need for bottom tier food in your household.

But that's not the worse of it. Like many middle aged home owners, he will deliberately check for mistagged items so that he can get them at a discount price. There's an air fryer he's been eyeing for months that's too expensive for a leisure purchase, until the day he spots that it's been mistagged for thirty dollars cheaper than normal.

"Heizou, honey, we can just wait until it's actually on sale..."

"Ah ah~, the price labelled is the price offered. I will be taking my prize!"

"You're insufferable."

You're at the checkout, silently apologizing to the cashier and manager that are trying to find a way out of this predicament. Unfortunately for them, he gets the airfryer. And unfortunately for you, he doesn't stop using it for a loooong time.

WANDERER - Buy Old People Snacks

He doesn't like sweets. He visibly cringes everytime you pass by the bakery section or candy aisle, and you have a horrible sweet tooth that can never be quelled.

However, he's gotten into the habit of picking up dried cranberries of all things. Now, usually you don't pass judgement on his choices, despite him making it clear he doesn't care if you. Regardless, you can't help poking fun at him every once in a while.

"Pfft, nice choice granpa."

"Shut up, you shovel junk down your throat like it's your day job."

"Yeah, but at least I act my age."

"You mean five?"

If you ever, and I mean ever, try to take some for yourself. He will smack your hand away and give you the nastiest glare. Don't bother with whining or fake tears, you should've thought about that before insulting his food choice. You won't be able to steal any of his food for a good month.

AETHER - Asking Permission To Buy Stuff

You have no clue where it comes from. Before you started dating him, he and Paimon were impulsive spenders. They used to empty literal shelves and have more food then they knew what to do with (Paimon usually ate most of it in record time). But now, when you're heading down the aisle, he'd sheepishly hold a box of cereal, maybe cookies, or even fruit snacks- and give you the biggest puppy dog eyes possible.

"Aether, you are a grown man. You can buy whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Yes! Buy ten of 'em if you really want to!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit overboard. But you needed to exxagerate to make your stance clear. Maybe he was trying to be considerate of you? But you always split the bill when it came to paying for groceries, a couple extra dollars wasn't going to kill you. Especially not with your shared salaries.

But if you're not careful, Paimon might end up eating you out of house and home. So maybe he had the right idea about clearing these choices with you first.

[helterskelterhazel]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒚

Summary: fetus!Alex and you hate each other, but not that much.

Warnings: sub!alex, dom!reader, oral(m receiving), p in v, crying?, grinding?

Word count: 4.7k

a/n: the fandom is so dead right now so I took matters into my own hands… enjoy!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You and Alex had an interesting living situation. You met through a mutual friend, and the mutual need for cheaper rent. The both of you hated paying ridiculous prices for the smallest flats ever, especially without the help of parents' money. Unfortunately, you both also hated each other. The night you met was at a noisy, packed club, and after a long day of university, you both needed to let loose. Your mutual friend invited the both of you along with a few other friends. He hadn’t been seen by your friend all night, but you saw him. As you had unsqueezed yourself from the mass of bodies dancing to the music to go to the bar, you felt a person knock into you. You turned to the side to tell him off, but your voice was caught in your throat as you looked at the boy in front of you. He was a fairly small boy, with thick hair that stuck up in the back. He wore a polo, with the color popped up, and baggy jeans. But what really stood out was his eyes, big and round and confused looking. The confused look quickly went away as he studied you.

“You y/n?” He asked loudly, attempting to strain over the loud music. His voice was higher pitched than you’d expect.

“Yes, I am, and you must be Alex, you fit the description I was told about. You also just ran into me, if you didn’t notice,” you respond, annoyed at his casual tone.

He smirked slightly, “I noticed.” What a dick.

You and him proceeded to have a strained conversation. He was clearly gone, sloshing his cheap beer around in his hand, accidentally splashing you with it at one point. At least he got you a napkin. You disagreed on almost every level, your personalities clashed in a frustrating way. Eventually, you got to the topic of university. He was an English major, surprising, considering his slurred speech and odd wording. Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t afford university combined with rent. That was the one thing you could agree on. You're not sure how, but In your drunken haze, you ended the conversation disgruntled but with a plan to room together in a new apartment. You managed to follow through with minimal talking, and moved into an apartment in the next few weeks. The circumstances weren’t the greatest, but it was the easiest option for everyone.

He put posters of the strokes, oasis and the libertines up on his side of the bedroom, and had his records stored next to his record player. Your records sat opposite to his. The first days were filled with arguments about things like who can take a shower, what type of coffee to make, and who can control the tv. He called you pretentious, you called him annoying. You’d complain about his habits of staying out late, and how he didn’t even try to be quiet when getting ready for bed. The yelling turned into grumbling, and the grumbling turned into silence as the both of you fell into some sort of routine.

you wake up hours before he does, and take a shower first thing. Typically getting dressed in outfits that consist of tights, sweaters, flats and denim or leather jackets. You pour yourself a cup of black coffee, and head to your first class of the day. By the time you got back from your early morning class, he was usually awake in his bed, sipping on an iced coffee. Iced, vanilla, coffee. You made him keep it in the fridge. There was always the lingering smell of the cigarette he had enjoyed on the balcony. You ate whatever pastry you had purchased from the bakery close by campus while he took an obnoxiously long shower. You would leave as he finished for the rest of your classes, just missing him stepping out of the shower wet and disheveled. Luckily your days didn’t overlap until late at night as Alex liked to go out, and he also liked to play in his band. He would clamber into bed after stripping to his boxers, and you would resist the urge to turn over to his side of the room and look. Then you would wake up and do it all over again.

One Sunday night, as Alex walked in the door earlier than usual, the routine changed. It was 9, and you both were puttering around the small kitchen trying to prepare separate microwaveable meals. Seemingly out of nowhere, Alex cleared his throat and asked,

“Do you wanna watch a movie, together I mean.”

Not knowing what to say, you kept your back facing him and nodded. You couldn’t see it, but his cheeks heated up to a bright pink, and he smiled softly to himself while continuing to prepare his noodles. The two of you settled down onto your beds, and you tossed the remote over to Alex.

“You can pick,” you told him quietly.

“I actually have some dvds that I brought from home, Al Pacino movies and stuff if you're into that,” he replied softly. The cocky boy you thought you knew seemed gone.

“Yeah that sounds good.”

He nodded, and slid off his bed to grab a big leather case from under it. After popping it open, you saw there must have been at least 80 dvds.

“Big into movies?” You asked, genuinely curious. His plush lips parted into a small smile at the question.

“Yeah, big time.”

He selected one and popped it into the dvd player beneath the tv before settling back into his flannel sheets. The two of you sat eating your food and watching “Donnie Brasco” through the rest of the night. The movie was dotted with Alex’s little interjections about the actors or cinematic qualities. You slowly drifted off to sleep with your bowl at your side, on top of your sheets. When you woke up the next morning, you were tucked into your bed, and your dishes had disappeared.

From then on, it seemed like you two had an unstated agreement. On the nights the both of you are in the flat, you would share a film. There was more talking as well. He asked you about your day and you asked about his. Sometimes he’d even prepare your meal, and make you a drink. You found out that you both actually were quite similar. When you had rented a French dvd, Alex responded excitedly, watching intently through the whole thing. Turns out he liked them as much as you did. You also found out little things about him that didn’t really matter, but meant a great deal to you. For example, he ruffles his hair on purpose, (he wants to look like Julian Casablancas.) He also began to get more comfortable engaging in small touches with you, touching your hip as he passed by you, light pats on the shoulder when you told him about a paper you did well on, and once tucking your hair behind your ear before scurrying away nervously. You didn’t mind it.

At the beginning of one normal movie night, Alex proposed that you sit in his bed.

“Y’know I just figured, it-it would be easier to see for you I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stuttered, blushing furiously. You laughed softly at his nervous behavior and moved over to his bed, settling onto the soft comforter. He tensed up as your shoulder touched his, but relaxed quickly after. He turned his head to you and said,

“If you want to get under the covers, I don’t mind, it’s pretty cold anyways,” he trailed off, eyes casting downwards, making the shadow of his lashes more prominent. You nodded in response, slipping your legs under the sheets.

As the movie progressed, you noticed his eyes starting to flutter closed, and his small frame slumped against yours. Slowly, you leaned back further, easing him to lay with his head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t say anything, allowing it to happen. You could tell he was still awake from his hitching breaths and pounding heart beat against you. Testing the waters, you took your hand up to rake through his soft hair. You got in response a shiver from him and a small hum, but no protests. You played with the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly. You could feel him smile against you. This Alex was not the Alex from the bar the night you met. This Alex was soft and vulnerable, and absolutely sweet. You allowed yourself to drift to sleep, him in your arms.

The night after was filled with nerves creeping up on you. You spend the whole day thinking about Alex wrapping himself tightly around you, not able to focus on any work at all. You know Alex wasn’t going to be home early that night, he had a late shift at the bar to cover. You wished he was here with you, watching films, listening to records, or just simply talking, but you know it was best to have a bit of space. The two of you hadn’t exchanged any talk in the morning, both far too timid to share any feelings. So there you sat In the darkness of your shared room, unable to fall asleep or think of anything other than Alex. Your thoughts of Alex were interrupted not a moment later by the sounds of the boy himself. You keep your body turned over so he can’t see your face, just listening to his breathing and sounds of him putting down his keys.

When you hear him settle onto his bed, the last this you expected to hear was him softly crying. It was quiet, but the sound was unmistakable. Without thinking, you sat up and turned around, in which Alex responded by lifting his head quickly. His hair was hanging over his eyes, which are red and puffy. His doe eyes are soft, and his lashes are slick with tears. Responding on instinct, you immediately jumped off your bed and hurried over to his, wrapping one arm around him. He responds by leaning into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You pet his hair lightly while he sniffles, trying to distract him from whatever was happening. Eventually he lifts his head up and averts his eyes away from yours. He takes a deep breath and then suddenly all of his words come pouring out at once.

“I’m so sorry for being weird all day y/n, I was worried I made you uncomfortable last night because I really like you and I don’t want to mess up us being friends, because you're like, one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I’m sorry for crying all over you and you can leave I understa-”

You shut up his rambling by leaning into his bitten lips. He made a noise of shock into your mouth, before he began to kiss back enthusiastically. He was one of the most eager kissers you’d ever encountered. His kisses were filled with an urgency you hadn’t felt before. He tasted like cigarettes and cheap beer. Unable to resist yourself, you reach a hand up and rake it through his hair, before tugging softly. In response he whines into the kiss, before pulling back and looking at you in shock. His lips are red and swollen, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“I didn’t think you liked me like that,” he says quietly. You didn’t respond, just continuing to look at his perfect face.

“I guess I just overthink things too much,” he replies to himself. This you respond to.

“I can make your mind go quiet, if that’s what you want.”

Even you were shocked by your boldness. He couldn’t form words, just nodding furiously, shaking his hair around. You lean back from him, sitting against your pillows and opening your legs. He looks confused at what you were doing. You pat the spot between your legs and say,

“sit.”

His eyes got impossibly wider as they flicked between the space between your legs and your face. “You mean like how girls normally do?” He asks, looking insecure.

“I guess so, but really it’s just so I can take proper care of you,” you respond, smirking at his innocent expression. “We don’t have to do it like that if you don’t want to.” You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“No,” he responds quickly, voice straining a bit. “I want to.”

“Then come here.”

He lifts himself up off the ledge of his bed and settles his back against your chest. You instantly wrap your arms up to cradle his little waist. His body shivers a bit against yours. You push your hands under his shirt and feel his soft skin, while beginning to lean down to kiss his neck. His body is shaking a bit, so you pull back slightly and say softly in his ear,

“Are you okay? You're shaking honey.” He blushes deeply at the nickname, before shaking his head and responding, “Yeah, I’m-I’m just not used to this.”

You nod in response before continuing. As you begin to kiss down his neck, you decide to take a risk.

“Can I leave marks?” He whimpers lightly before hurriedly nodding.

You lick over his pulse point before sucking a small love bite into his pale skin. He tilts his head back further, exposing more of his neck to you. Between bites and kisses you whisper in his ear.

“No ones ever properly taken care of you, sweetie.” He looks embarrassed at the words, letting out little whimpers and deep breaths as well. You continue to run your hands over his stomach under his shirt. Your hands drop lower, caressing his defined hip bones. At this, he lets out a quiet whine and squirms a bit.

“Need more.” he says while looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. His fists are curled at his side, and his chest is heaving with need.

“if it’s what you need sweetie.”

You take the edge of his shirt and pull it over his head, ruffling his hair even more in the process. You trail your hands down to his jeans, feeling the edge of them before asking, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.” he breathes desperately. You unzip them and let him do the rest, unable to reach from your position. Now here you were, with Alex Turner between your legs in nothing but his boxers, looking delicate as ever. Deciding to be bold, you take your hand and palm over his crotch. The fabric feels wet with precum, and you can almost feel him pulse under your touch. His response is immediate, bucking up into your touch and desperately pawing at your other hand that was resting on his tummy. You trace one finger around his cock, feeling the surprisingly long length of it. He silently hopes you can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest, but of course you can. You decided to surprise him by reaching your hand down to wrap around the base of his cock. The sound he made was something out of a porno. A broken, high pitched moan that seemed like it resembled an “oh god.” The sound went straight to your core and you felt wetness start to pool in your panties. You begin to move your hand along his raging erection, eventually getting to the tip, just lightly swiping your fingers over it to tease. You would think he’d never even jacked off before from his reaction. All he could do is squirm and push himself into your touch desperately.

You remove your grip on him to just lightly take your finger and run it up and down his cock, moving the precum leaking out of him along it. As you teased him, you couldn’t help but lean down to suck a hickey into his collarbone. The need to see him as disheveled and marked up was unbearable. You couldn’t help but trail your other hand further up his stomach to his chest to his nipples, lightly ghosting over one to see if it was okay.

“Please, please I want it.” The boy who was nervous about being submissive was definitely gone.

You take his nipple between your fingers, rolling it before pinching lightly. He looks overwhelmed at the action between his legs and chest. You switch between the two of his nipples, almost overstimulating him. His chest and cheeks are flushed, and you're honestly interested in seeing if anything else is.

You take your hand off his cock, leaving him whining in disagreement.

“Why’d you stop?” He chokes out, pouting like a kid who dropped his ice cream.

“Because I wanna taste you.” you smirk in his ear.

You can hear his voice catch in his throat, and before he knows it you're releasing your hold on him and crawling between his legs. From this angle, he looks downright sinful. His puppy eyes are trained on you, watery from being on edge. His lips are bitten and his hair is messy and covering his face making him look somehow innocent despite the current situation. Trailing your hands up his legs, which were just as delicate and pale as the rest of him, you settle on where his v-line meets his boxers.

“Can I suck you off.” You ask bluntly, trying to get that pretty blush to rise up to his cheeks. It works.

“Yes-yes please do whatever please.” He begs hands fisting the sheets by his side, frustrated by the lack of stimulation on his painfully hard cock.

You take this as an opportunity to pull down his boxers to reveal his dick. You almost gasp at the sight of it, big, flushed a deep red almost purple, leaking a steady stream of precum against his tummy, with a vein going up the side. He looks embarrassed at the sight of you between his legs, staring at his cock.

“Can you please touch me, please?” He whimpers quietly, averting his eyes from yours.

“I don’t know, do you think you deserve it?” You tease, rubbing the milky skin of his bare thighs.

“Yes! Yes I do please, I need you so bad.” He whines in desperation, the pressure getting far too much for him to take.

“I guess you have been good for me. Is that what you wanna be? My good boy?” You didn’t think he would react as strongly as he did, it was really just to tease him even further, but he replies by gasping softly and saying “I’m your good boy I promise, just touch me, ple-”

You interrupt his pleas by taking the head of his cock into your mouth. In response he lets out a high pitch whine. The neighbors probably hate us right now. you take the entirety of what you can in your mouth, trying not to gag as the tip hits the back of your throat. He shudders and starts to let out a continuous stream of “fucks” and “yes’s” and whimpers. you take whatever you can't fit in your mouth and pump the base of him. You hollow out your cheeks to make the sensation even better for him. In response he bucks up his hips uncontrollably and takes one hand and tangles it in your hair. He doesn’t try to pull or control your movements, it’s just an attempt to keep his body under control. It’s clear it isn’t really working, as his back arches off the bed like a cat, and he has to raise the hand that’s not in your hair to his mouth to attempt to quiet his noises. You reach your hand up and swat him away from his mouth. “I wanna hear your pretty noises honey.”

“Oh-okay.” He whispers shyly in response, giving you a little smile.

the smile quickly drops as you attach your mouth back to the swollen head of his cock, licking into the slit at the top. His unrestrained mewls are the prettiest sounds you’ve heard. You continue to massage his thighs, occasionally reaching a hand up to ghost over one of his nipples, leaving him an overwhelmed mess. His trembling legs and increasingly louder whines are a clear sign of him getting closer. He was desperately trying not to cum so quickly, but he couldn’t stop his shaky thrusts of his hips.

“oh god, you feel so-so good.” He whines desperately, sounding on the verge of pleasure induced tears. You look up to admire his sweet face, and you're met with a surprise. He doesn’t just sound like he’s crying, he is crying. Lip quivering slightly, and his eyes are rolling back to his head, as tears run down his cheeks. The sight of him so ruined has your cunt clenching around nothing, suddenly unbearably empty.

“I’m not gonna last, please plea-.” You cut off his begging by promptly pulling him out of your mouth and removing any stimulation he was getting. The cry he lets out sounds almost pained, even more tears stream from his eyes.

“Why’d you stop, I was almost there.” He pouts at you, disheveled hair paired with red cheeks and teary eyes making him look angelic.

“Because I want you inside me,” You reply, leaning your face against his thigh, “do you want that?” You finish.

“Yeah, yes I want it. I want it so bad please.” He gasps out desperate to get some form of stimulation back in his aching cock.

As you slip off the shorts and panties you were wearing to bed, you can practically feel Alex’s eyes staring at your puffy folds. He gulps as you climb over his lap, hovering over his dick. You lower yourself to grind your pussy against his cock, feeling it slip between your wet folds, nudging just right at your clit. As you begin to move up and down along his dick, his hands grasp desperately at your waist, mewling at the feeling of your plush folds sliding along his dick.

“I swear you're gonna kill me.” He chokes out, eyes focused on your soaked pussy spreading your wetness around his cock.

“Do you like this baby, you like feeling me.” You say, leaning down to his ear, before attaching your mouth to the spot under his jaw.

“Love it, love it so much, I need more.” He moans, hands trailing from your waist to squeeze the flesh of your ass.

“More? Don’t you think that’s a little greedy?” You tease, licking and biting along his collar bone. He whimpers and shakes his head, burying it in your shoulder, shuddering softly. His fingers are toying with the edge of your shirt, too nervous to ask to take it off. Luckily you get the hint.

You pull the shirt over your head, allowing him a moment to look at your bra, before promptly pulling that off as well. His big, brown eyes dilate at the sight of your tits.

“Can I touch them, please?” He says, looking up at you hopefully. You nod into his neck. He immediately reaches his hands up and gropes at your tits, squeezing them in his delicate hands. You continue to grind against him to make him more desperate as he suddenly leans forward and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking desperately. You gasp softly and begin petting his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“You like having your mouth full sweetie?” You ask, a rhetorical question of course. All he can do is let out a muffled whine. His tongue swipes along the bud, nipping gently in an attempt to get you as desperate as he is. Suddenly he releases you from his mouth and stops the movement of your hips against him with his hands.

“I can’t anymore, I need to be inside you. I’ll be good for you, I promise I swear love!” He whines finally, breaking under the teasing.

“Okay honey, you’ve been a good boy.” You reply while lifting up to your knees and grabbing hold of his cock. He’s been hard for so long he swears he’s going to bust any second now. You line up the fat head of his cock to your leaking cunt, before slowly pushing him inside. You groan low in your throat as you feel his thick cock stretch you out just right, the tip brushing your g-spot. You almost don’t notice the way he throws his head back in euphoria, sounds caught in his throat from the way your plush walls squeeze him perfectly, and the way he can feel your cunt gush around him. You grab hold of his face, admiring his lust blown eyes for a moment, before leaning in to connect your mouth with his. It’s rough and messy as his tongue slides along yours, his mouth sweet and soft. You begin to slowly move your hips, the first few movements have him shaking again. You let him sink into the bed, so overwhelmed that he was pawing at anything he could get his hands on. Your tits, your ass, your waist, anything to keep him grounded.

But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way your tits bounced with every thrust. He couldn’t stop hearing the wet noises coming from your pussy every time you bottomed out of his dick. He couldn’t stop looking at how your pussy enveloped him, leaving his dick wet and glistening.

“God you're so good!” He cried out, tears trailing down his face again.

you were right there with him, trailing a hand down to your clit to circle the puffy bud, but he was there before you were, desperate not to embarrass himself by coming too early. It only took a few swipes of his calluses fingertips on your clit to have you coming around his length. You gripped your hands on his slender shoulders as your orgasm shook through your body, unknowingly breaking him enough to have his own orgasm suddenly coaxed out. You feel his hot release hit your walls, and watch his hips jerk uncontrollably as the tears shed more than ever before. His fingers don’t let up until you collapse on top of him, sweaty bodies melded together.

It takes a moment for you to realize his crying and shaking hasn’t stopped. You lift off of him, still straddling him, his cum starting to leak out of you.

“Are you ok al?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond, a fuzzed over look on his face, trying his hardest to give you a little nod. You grab his fragile body in your arms and slowly lift him out of bed, walking him to the bathroom slowly. You take a damp cloth and wipe him down softly as possible. You wipe yourself down as well, still cradling him in your arms. Grabbing his hand, you lead him over to your bed, wanting to lay him in clean sheets. You help him into the bed and slide in beside him. He buries his head in your chest, still shaking but not crying anymore. You pet his hair, hoping to calm him down. After a few moments he slowly lifts his head up, making eye contact shyly.

“I’m sorry for all that.” He says softly. “I sometimes get a little unresponsive when I get a little too into it.” He looks nervous, anticipating your reaction.

“That’s okay Al, it’s kinda sweet.” You reply, watching his cheeks flush lightly. You lean down and kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“I had a really good time.” You say, smiling at him.

“Me too.” He gave a long pause before asking, “do you maybe wanna go out sometime.”

You almost giggle at his shy demeanor. Still so nervous.

“Of course I do honey.”

The both of you lay In comfortable silence for a while, arms wrapped around each other. You noticed his eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay awake.

“Go to sleep Alex, I’ve got you.” You whisper, stroking the side of his face. He hums in agreement nuzzling into your neck further. You stroke his hair and face until you feel his breathing stabilize. The both of you fall asleep entangled together, your lips pressed against the crown of his head

[hyuuukais]

⋆.˚𖦹°‧✮‧°𖦹˚.⋆ ERROR 404

pairing ~ yang jeongin x fem reader

synopsis ~ y/n starts getting messages from an unknown number after buying a used phone for cheap. as she finds out more about the boy she's talking to, it turns out there's much more to this than a wrong number --- he died, and she's talking to his spirit, yet he has no idea what happened to him. will y/n have what it takes to solve the mystery of his death? or will the boy's spirit remained trapped in his phone?

warnings ~ gen, blood/injuries, depiction of (non graphic or very detailed) suicide, y/n doesn't like physical touch so much

MASTERLIST | NEXT

CH 1 ~ UNKNOWN NUMBER (2.3k, 8 screenshots)

"...hello? How'd you get this number?" You ask, very clearly confused.

No one should know your new number other than you, and now Changbin, so who...? There's no answer on the other line and you sigh, frustration rising as you continue to question the caller. Who is it, what do they want, again, how did they get this number, etc. Silence is all you get, about to hang up when you think you can hear someone's breath hitch.

Leaning into the phone, like that'll help you hear any better, you listen to a shaky breath. It sounds far off, like their phone is placed away from them. Maybe they didn't even know they called you. Turning your volume up, you still struggle to make out any other sounds over the breathing, not that it's all that loud. You're about to ask if they're okay, do they need you to get help, when the line cuts. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you can't hide the look of worry and bewilderment on your face.

Unplugging the charger from where it sits in the outlet under the table you're sitting at, you gather your things and get ready to leave. You agreed to meet at a café deeper in the city, somewhere with more traffic in case something happened. The seller had suggested it, saying this place had the best slices of chocolate cake you could have and even ordered you one when you arrived. All was going well, ignoring their unsteady hands and the sweat beading on their brow bone. Handing the phone over was a quick exchange as soon as your etransfer went through to them. That was when they broke the news; the phone doesn't turn on or charge, but here's both and you can figure it out yourself. They left in a hurry, not leaving you room to argue or demand your money back. You felt stupid.

As soon as you inserted the charging port into the phone, it turned on immediately and you smirked. The phone doesn't turn on? Sure, okay. After a few minutes of fiddling with settings, everything was ready. You texted Changbin, figuring you could give yourself some moments of peace before contacting anyone else you thought needed to know your new number.

You grab your bag and head to the door, keeping your phone out to text Changbin about the number that called you. When you open the door to go out, you're met with a hard wall and stumble back. Hands barely grab your arms as you nearly fall into another person, holding you upright and apologizing profusely. Looking up, you see a man around your age, eyes looking you up and down to check you're alright. His blond hair glows in the sunlight and he's wearing a smooth button-down, effortlessly gorgeous and somewhat familiar, but you can't quite pinpoint where you've seen him.

"I'm fine, sorry for bumping into you like that," you chuckle, moving his arms away from you. Physical touch has never been your thing. "Should have looked before I opened the door... shit, is that-? Sorry again!"

Moving past him, you run out to the crosswalk, stopping abruptly when the hand pops up. Down the road is the bus you need to catch, and you know the food truck parked beside you is blocking you from view. Sticking your arm out isn't an option like usual, risking being hit by a turning car if you do. The stop is empty save for a man facing away from you. As soon as your eyes lock onto him, his face turns to yours like he could feel your stare.

The side of his face is all scratched up and you notice blood dripping from his bruised nose down his split, chapped lips. His skin is pale, bordering blue with veins visible underneath. You can't tear your eyes away, not even when you're prompted to walk or when the hand starts flashing again. The man's mouth is moving, but you can't hear from where you are. Vehicles are rushing past you, wind in your hair, and you finally tear your eyes away when the bus you were supposed to take drives past the stop.

When you look away from the bus, now fading in the distance, the man is gone... but the bus never stopped to pick him up.

Having only you and Changbin working in the shop full time often has you both forgetting what normal work hours are, and soon enough it's nearly midnight.

"Holy shit, Bin," you rub your bleary eyes, taking another look at the time on your phone. "We have to stop. Go to bed."

"I'm almost done..." he drags the last word, carefully placing a few more blue flowers into a bouquet before standing back to marvel at his creation. "This bride is going to be so happy!"

"It's beautiful, but Bin, let's go." You head to the door and wave goodbye. "Lock up behind me, and promise you're heading up after I leave? We don't need a repeat of Sunday."

"Hey, to be fair, I thought we'd be closed," he laughs. "Not my fault you decided to show up on your birthday only to see me drooling all over the stem cuttings."

You give a light punch in his arm, laughing with him at the image conjured in your head of him hunched over the table in the back. He'd stayed up all night finishing a last minute request, not even realizing he fell asleep until you woke him up that morning. The flowers had wilted enough overnight to be deemed unsellable, having to remake each bouquet and wreath in that order. It was terrible.

You're about to say goodbye again when your phone rings in your hand; unknown number. Putting it on speaker, you sigh loudly.

"This is what I'm talking about," you whisper to Changbin, hand hovering over the microphone. Rolling your eyes, you move it away. "Who is this and what do you want? Seriously, this is getting annoying quick."

Like before, all you can hear is heavy breathing, although it's much louder this time like whoever is on the other end has the phone held up to their ear. It doesn't take long for them to hang up again.

"Block the number," Changbin shifts uncomfortably, hands on his hips. "That's creepy."

Taking his advice, you enter your call logs, but there's no sign of of anyone calling you just now. In fact, the only log is from when Changbin called about the new clients. There's nothing from before that either.

"Weird," you mumble, pocketing the device. "Okay, well. Goodnight."

"Y/n," Changbin grabs your arm lightly as you move through the doorway. "Stay safe, please."

"When don't I?" You give a weak smile, trying to be reassuring. "I'll be fine. Now go! I better find you somewhat well rested tomorrow morning."

You take the last bus of the night going your direction, kicking your shoes off as soon as you enter your house. It's a small, but cute and cozy bungalow you started renting not too long ago, having saved up from the flower shop. Business is good, and you're content with how your life is going at them moment. Before, when you were younger, you imagined a life on the go. Busy, busy, busy, lots of travelling for work and nonstop action. But then Changbin offered you a job and you never looked back, enjoying the lack of chaos you once yearned for.

Dim lights, fuzzy blankets; it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep with your lamp still on. Now you find yourself standing on a bridge you don't recognize, the air still, not a sound to be heard. Looking over the edge, you're met with a busy highway, but the traffic is absolutely silent. Dream logic always messed you up, especially when you finally realize you're in a dream. You haven't had a lucid dream for a long time, but you were certain that's what this is. A long day mixed with extreme exhaustion and a hint of stress? Definitely could have concocted this.

Looking down each side of the bridge, you spot a boy leaning over the edge further down. You try to call out, but find you have no voice. As you get closer, you notice something- he's the same guy you saw at the bus stop earlier that day. He's wearing the same clothes, a tattered blue sweater over a white shirt that peaks out from the bottom and black jeans. Dried blood cakes his face and hair, especially matted in the back, kind of like he hit his head really bad. One leg swings over the edge of the railing and you speed up, realizing what he's going to do as the other leg joins. You still can't yell for him, can't talk him off the edge or cry for help. All you can do is watch as he pushes off, the air breaking with the sound of glass crunching, a crash, and a car horn honking loudly.

When you gain the courage to look over where he fell- no, jumped- there's nothing there. A light breeze moves your hair and you realize you can't hear the horn anymore, only crickets in the dark night. As you straighten back up, you can feel a presence behind you.

"That's not what happened," they whisper in your ear and you startle, turning around.

Before you can fully turn to face who whispered, you're grabbed and thrown over the same spot the boy jumped from. Now, you can scream. As you're falling in slow motion, you scream. As you reach out to save yourself, you scream. And as you hit the ground, you scream.

And then you wake up.

You wake up in a cold sweat, sitting upright and clutching your chest, trying to learn to breathe again. There's a pain in the back of your head, dull and aching, and your whole body feels sore and stiff. Beside you your phone flashes on and you barely register an incoming call before it declines. Picking up the device, you see there have been 3 missed calls since you fell asleep nearly an hour ago. Wait, only an hour? It felt so much longer.

Finger hovering over the phone icon, you're about to see if they left any voicemails when another call comes in. Unknown number- you almost hang up, but something compels you to answer again. Is it the mystery of it all? Getting to the bottom of the odd breathing, being unable to call back? Or just plain curiosity?

"Hello? Who is-"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you hear the sound of a man's voice on the other line, hoarse and distant. "Are you there?"

'Yeah, I just-"

"Hello?"

"Stop interrupting me-"

"Please, please be there," he sobs, followed by a wet cough. "It's so dark in here... and my head is pounding, I think I'm hurt."

"Listen, you need to call the emergency line, not a random number of someone you don't know," you say quickly, starting to panic at the sudden silence. "Hello?"

"I think... I think im dead."

Nothing. The line does dead after he's uttered those final words, leaving you to stare at your wall in the dark with your phone still held up to your ear. Slowly, you put the device in your lap and reach over to flick the switch on your lamp, dim lighting filling the room. There's a faint ringing in your ears, and you notice the pain from when you woke is gone. Your legs are jelly when you stand, a hand against the wall to brace yourself as your vision blurs for a moment. Once it's back to normal, you move toward your bedroom door and exit, heading to the bathroom down the hall.

Slipping out of your pajamas, you turn the shower on as hot as you can bear, steam filling the room. Contact with the water makes you hiss, adjusting to the sudden change in temperature as you let it flow over your body from head to toe. It's nice, warm and reassuring. When you're satisfied with the comfort provided by the near boiling water, you step out and wrap a dark green towel around yourself. With the window closed, your mirror has fogged up entirely. You dry your body facing away from the mirror, fully intending to wipe it down after yourself, but when you turn back around you're met with a message written in the condensation.

Help me.

To say you're freaked out is a severe understatement, choosing to wipe the words away with your towel and ignore it until further notice. As you take the fabric away from the reflective surface, you choke back a scream, flipping around to find nothing there. Just a second ago, you saw a man standing behind you in the mirror, but there's only empty space. You're almost scared to turn back, forcing your eyes up, but there's nobody in the mirror now either. The only logical explanation you can find for this is that it's late, you're tired, you're seeing things. Go back to bed, go back to sleep. Everything will be back to normal in the morning.

Walking back to your room, you don't notice the other person in each reflection you pass. He's beside you as you leave the bathroom, when you enter your bedroom and get back under your blankets. Your bed provides a warm and safe feeling of comfort from the weird day you've had, leaning over to flick the lamp off. As soon as you do, the room lights up again as your phone gets a text notification.

~

notes ~ first chapter woooo!!! so excited to share this one with u guys :3

taglist ~ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @bloomingstay @sona1800 @dollschan @defnotfertilizedtoesw @thisisnotjacinta @kayleigh-28 @kayleefriedchicken

reply or send an ask to be added (18+)^^^

[v1nsmoke]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 // 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

oneshot - fallout's john hancock x reader

tw: mentions of drugs (usual hancock activity)

summary: after days of exiting goodneighbor, you and hancock finally get to talk

fandom: fallout

a/n: there is not enough talk about this fella omg… now that liking the ghoul from the fallout show is accepted, i can come forward (i chose the “romance hancock” option every playthrough). no pronouns used, so gender neutral ig? also the inspiration for the title is that one song thats viral on tiktok rn, also galvanized square steel mentioned

tags: -

wc: 0.6k

“Day twenty-five since leaving Vault 111, today is Monday and my location is Diamond City, it’s currently 2:41 PM. Me and my companion are at the noodle shop,” you say, speaking into your Pip-boy. 

Recently, you’ve been documenting every day, usually just a brief summary on that day’s experiences. These experiences consisted of hourly radroach attacks, accidental overdose on jet, or encounters with hostile Mr. Handy’s. Or accidental near-death situations with a deathclaw. That only happened once. 

You weren’t sure anybody would ever hear these, even better, be interested in these daily logs. Your companion seemingly couldn’t care less about these logs, as he ate his portion of ramen next to you. 

“The Institute remains undefeated, and I doubt it will change today, I’m not in the mood for it,” you continue.

“If it depended on your mood, it would be there forever,” Hancock cuts in with his sarcastic remark.

A sigh escapes your lips at his words.

“Maybe I should switch back to Dogmeat and send you back to Goodneighbor,” you reply.

“Now, what good would that do for you?”

“It would spare me from more of these remarks.”

“But can Dogmeat give you this?” He asks as he slides you a jet.

Hesitantly, but you accept it with a smile. 

“John Hancock, the ghoul you are,” you sigh.

A smile creeps onto his features. 

“See? You like me enough.”

“Whatever helps you sleep…”

You’ve been traveling with Hancock for the past week or so, after you accepted the offer of Bobby, who just so happened to lie to you. One thing led from another, and after finishing off Hancock’s bodyguard, you managed to solve the bad blood between the two of you by killing Bobby herself. 

Hancock was useful and good company, helping out where he could and making small talk with you. Not to mention that he was supplying you with a different kind of drug every day. They don’t have that stuff in Vaults…

Last night, the both of you got high as hell in the home you bought with hard-earned caps here, in Diamond City. It was mostly a box, so you decided to illegally expand it with galvanized square steel and eco-friendly wood veneers. So, after the finished construction - that lasted four days with the cheap and friendly workforce including Little John (Hancock) and yourself -, the two of you decided to celebrate.

He plopped down onto the mattress - the construction fee was too much for you to spend even more caps on a normal bed -, resting his back against the wall. You popped open a bottle of Nuka-Cola, taking your place on the mattress next to him.

“So, how do ya like it?” He asks, taking a Jet out of his pocket.

“So far so good,” you reply with a sigh.

“That’s all? Not ‘I love this place more than the Vault’?”

“I do like it more than the Vault, cause you’re here.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds before speaking up.

“That’s good.”

“That’s all? Not ‘Wow I, too, am really glad that I’ve got you and get to share Jet with you and that you defended me from that Deathclaw’?”

He lets out a slight chuckle, hanging his head low. 

“Thank you, then. For these past few days I’ve spent with you. Never thought I would find anybody who would accept me as their companion.”

© v1nsmokes 2024. Do not modify, translate or rewrite.

[neesieiumz]

orange peel theory || a cherub’s apple drabble.

read full fic here

based on the trending orange peel theory. 1.3K WORDS

heart banner by @todorosie , orange banner by @cafekitsune

THE SUN SEEPED into the windows, dulled by the thin curtains around it. Even with that, it awoke you, your eyes slowly prying open. the first thing you noticed was the weight that kept you pressed up against a warm body. A smile threatened to form on your face, now hearing the soft snores of your husband beside you, as he kept you close. His large arm wrapped carefully around you, his hand resting upon your stomach. Where the love between the two of you coalesced.

18 weeks along, four and half months, yet everything had changed but stayed the same.

A long sigh left your lips as you stretched, your spine and other bones popping, releasing the air that gathered in between the crevices. Quietly, you pulled your husband’s arm away from you. It was a routine, you using your pillow, soaked with your fragrant as a cheap replacement to let him sleep some more.

Your husband is a tired, hardworking man.

Reaching for your drawer, you pulled out a thin nightgown to cover your naked body. As you shimmied into it, a shiver almost froze you in your tracks. Letting the dress fall onto your body, you pressed a hand against your swollen stomach.

“I know, I know, I’m hungry too, give me a second Peach.”

The two of you undoubtedly dubbed her Peach, ascribed to the day you found out you were with child. Kento had planted the said fruit tree within your private coven on the Orchard Grounds, next to the pomegranate trees you had planted for your family that had long passed. A sign for new things to come, for new things to grow.

Your cold feet slipped into your slippers, as you strode towards the door to your bathroom, and after a quick two minutes, your mouth now clean, as fresh as dew-misted mint. Slipping out of the bathroom, you no longer heard the soft snores but rather heavy breathing, indicating your husband was going to wake up soon. out of your room, into the office area. Before you knew it, you had finally slipped into the kitchen, to satisfy your and Peach’s desire for food.

A soft whistle left your lips as you glanced at the options in front of you, “what to eat… what to eat…”

A flutter of blinks, a pondering hum, and then a, “yeah, ice cream for breakfast sounds amazing Peach. You absolutely read my mind.”

However, just as you grabbed the sweet treat from the freezer, spoon and bowl in hand. It was inevitably swiped out of your hands. A whine left your pouty lips as you turned around, seeing the naked, hairy chest of your husband, his outstretched arm holding the tub of ice cream up and away from you.

“No fair, give that back!” you tried to reach, stretching up on the tips of your toes to give that back.

Low grumbles rumbled off of his chest, watching, in the corner of your eye as he shook his head. His other arm came up and around you, “what did I tell you about ice cream for breakfast, my love?”

You only pointed further, crossing your arms, “it wasn;t for me, It was for Peach.” you mumbled, leaning back into his chest.

He let off a low hum as he squeezed you slightly, to keep you close as he put the ice cream back before closing the top door fully. With a now free hand, it came up around you, holding you close as he began to just simply sway you. Heat bubbled at your chest, the warmth of his touch washed away all the contempt of being pulled away from your ice cream. You felt his neck strain, before giving you a long smooch on your cheek, before moving right to your plump lips. It was soft, easy but oh so delicious. He tasted mint, cool to the touch, evidence of him brushing his teeth before making his way out here. He was very adamant about dental care before kisses, especially with Peach growing within you.

Giggles left your mouth, spilling into the kiss, “good morning, Kento.” you mumbled, your eyes fluttering open to look at his closed ones

You felt him smile against your lips, before letting go slightly, “good morning, darling.”

A chill ran down your back at the sound of his morning low-tones, you ignored the way something pulsed within you. Instead, you turned around, his hands still locked together, now around your hips instead of your protruding abdomen, sliding your lukewarm hands up around his back, resting on his back shoulder blades.

“Anything you wish for breakfast?” he asked you, the two of you locking eyes, “except for sugar-filled ice cream?”

Another pout.

Kento saw your lips downturn, your mood souring slightly at the sound of his ban on ice cream, before a sigh left his lips, “okay, ice cream one hour after breakfast, and not too much.”

A squeal left your mouth, “yes,” you hissed, taking a step back to look at your belly.

The two of you decided on a breakfast that didn’t inspire a flare of nausea within you. A savory toast, with avocado, at least Kento’s will have it. You’re not a fan of the unsweet “fruit” and Peach is definitely not a fan of it either. So yours will simply have turkey bacon and egg on it. You also wished for vanilla yogurt, to hold you over until your ice cream treat, paired with your three favorites. While Kento cooked down the eggs and breads the two different types of toast, you wanted to help, grabbing a bowl, and putting different fruit within it, to chop up the French toast.

While chopping up the strawberries, after rinsing the blueberries, those were usually the two fruits you had with your vanilla Greek yogurt. Your eyes suddenly floated towards the bowl of oranges sitting right beside your husband, just as he was plating the two pieces of toast loaded with avocado, eggs, and bacon. His one plate, while yours was resting on the counter beside the oranges.

“Kento,” you started, “can you hand me two oranges, I want to add them to my greek yogurt.”

He hummed, confirming that he would. You thanked him, before continuing to chop up the last of your strawberries, wishing to sprinkle a little sugar on them before putting them in your bowl of Greek yogurt. Suddenly, you heard porcelain grating against the countertop.

Glancing down, you saw oranges resting on a small plate. They were peeled, and pulled apart as well, each slice resting on its curved, flat side, all facing the same way. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face, eyeing the mint garnish on the side of the plate as well.

“I didn’t ask for mint you know,” you said, picking up the plate and sliding them into the bowl, mint included.

“Whenever you have oranges with your yogurt, you inevitably have some mint leaves added to it,” is all he said, holding both plates in his hands.

Walking past you, he placed a short but sweet kiss on the top of your head, before walking towards the dining table. Your smile never went away as you mixed the fruit into the yogurt, before separating it into two different bowls and bringing it toward the table. Brown eyes landed on your walk, just as he placed the bowls down, taking two long strides towards you, taking the bowls out of your hands, before placing each other in their correct spots.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased him once more, taking your seat at the table.

The morning went as such, with such sweet memories and many more to come. Peach’s joy came out in bouts of kicks as you ate the Greek yogurt. The taste of the oranges with hints of mint came especially sweet to you, glancing at your husband who ate away at his food as well.

[petrichor-han]

Hii, can you write a crack/fluffy drabble of tiny felix doll who fell out of your pocket and become human when get in touch with water or whatever like that? :)

tiny dancer | l.fl

PAIRING I felix x gn!reader

CAST | felix lee

WC | 1.0k

GENRE I crack, slight fluff, doll!au (?), magical realism

WARNINGS I explicit language, spooky magic (that's really all lol)

A/N | thank you for sending in an ask!! :) this was really fun to write, since i don't really do much crack/unserious writing LMAO i hope you enjoy!! and as for anyone seeing this in tags, my requests are open until july 16 if you want to send in an ask as well 🤍

REQUEST! | EVENT MASTERLIST

You probably shouldn’t have trusted the sketchy roadside shop that sold little doll keychains, but in all fairness you had a horrible day and deserved a little treat. 

It wasn’t the worst roadside stand you’ve ever seen either—once you’d come across a tiny stand that sold venus flytraps and other carnivorous, exotic plants, but upon driving closer you felt a chill run down your spine and you got the hell out of there before you were chopped up and made into plant food or something. That’s not even mentioning the countless stands that sell hermit crabs and baby turtles to irresponsible children and ignorant parents, nor the horror stories and myths about buying trinkets from mysterious pop-up shops and getting possessed or haunted from said trinket. With all that in consideration, buying a little keychain from a sweet old woman for a few bucks was the least of your worries. 

It was really cute too—it was nothing like the cheap, plastic keychains that were sold in every gas station and tourist shop. A small wooden doll carved out of wood and carefully hand painted to look like a cute blonde boy with freckles. His arms were extended above his head, as if he were performing some sort of dance move—but you weren’t knowledgeable enough on dance to name the exact one. 

There were plenty of other options, but this one caught your eye immediately with his cheerful painted expression and funny pose. You smile as you pick him up, and the old woman smiles back at you, hopeful about making a sale. “That one’s very sweet,” she says earnestly, tapping on the wooden doll’s face with a gnarled finger, “he’ll be a delight to have in your home.” 

Sweet? As if the doll were a living thing with a real personality, you think to yourself. But you pretend like she didn’t say anything odd, and hand her a few paper bills before returning to your car and heading home. 

“His name is Felix! Remember to call him kindly,” the old woman says, raising her voice as you retreat. Her words send an odd chill down your spine, her tone tinged with a sense of foreboding and warning. As you settle into your car nervously, you stare at the small doll sitting in the passenger seat next to your bag. Its—Felix’s, expression is flat, unchanged from the first moment you laid eyes upon him. You briefly consider tossing him out the window on the way home, feeling thoroughly freaked out by the old woman’s parting words to you, but then decide against it—if it were evil, wouldn’t it find its way back to you anyways, with a punishment twice as bad? It makes you feel a bit like a superstitious freak as your palms sweat against your steering wheel, thinking about possession and ghostly spirits, but you arrive back to your place with no issues—as if you were expecting the doll to cause a car accident, or something of the sort. 

You slide the doll into the front pocket of your jacket before grabbing your bag and locking your car, heading inside. Your apartment is dark and silent when you step through the front door, your automatic lock beeping softly behind you as the door shuts. Sighing, you turn on the lights and trudge to the bathroom, where you lean over the cramped sink to turn on the water. As you do so, the small wooden doll slides out of your pocket, clattering into the sink as the water rushes over the small figurine. 

“Oh, fuck!” you exclaim, your heart sinking as you watch the small doll get absolutely soaked—waterboarded by your bathroom sink. Quickly, you pull the doll back out and start drying it with the nearest towel; you know that wood warps and paint runs, so getting Felix wet was really out of the question. Annoyance bubbles up inside of you as you attempt to pat the doll dry—it really had been an abysmal day. First you woke up late, then had a terrible day at work, and now the one treat you’ve allowed yourself to buy has been ruined, and by your own doing too. The fact that you have no one to blame but yourself makes you scowl at your reflection briefly, before looking back down at the doll in your hands. 

However, the doll looks different now. 

At first you think, ah shit, there’s the wood warping from contact with water already, but then you swear you see the doll’s painted eyes blink at you. “What the hell,” you say out loud, muttering under your breath as you bring the doll closer to your face, squinting at its tiny face to try and see it happen again—or to confirm that you’re really losing your shit. 

“You might want to put me down.” 

The doll’s lips don’t move, but it very clearly blinks at you again; its large, round brown eyes look up to meet your gaze before shutting momentarily. You scream and throw the doll onto the bathroom floor, but instead of landing with a clatter it lands with a puff of smoke. With your lungs screaming for air, your heart pounding with fear, and your mind swirling with confusion, you fumble for the door handle and stumble out of the bathroom, choking on the smoke that exploded from your little doll. 

You squint as you look back at the bathroom, the smoke starting to clear from the small room as it airs out, and then your eyes widen—in the place of your little doll is a fully grown man, who resembles the keychain exactly. “Felix,” you say shakily, raising a hand to point at him. You’re still not completely sure you’re awake—this feels like some nonsensical fever dream, or a fucked up YA book plot. 

“That’s me,” he confirms, his deep voice sending a shiver up your spine. 

“You were a doll,” you say, your eyebrows raising in confusion and panic. “Now you’re… not.” 

“A doll?” he asks, his own eyebrows raising, his expression matching yours. The two of you stand there in doubled bewilderment. “I was going to ask you how I got here, and where exactly I am. The last thing I remember is meeting this old woman on the side of the road.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. 

So you are a fool after all.

© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved.