#this is why i did the test color first. thank god.

[raiii-bee]

Coloring/ rendering transparent fabric digitally:

:)

Coloring/rendering transparent fabric traditionally:

[seventh-district]

sometimes it’s late at night and you’re cleaning your room and you come across a few old black and white photos of a young girl and you stare at them for a long minute wondering how on earth they got lost in an old Kroger shopping bag with an unopened pack of cigarettes and a receipt dated 2017.

and you look at the girl in the pictures sat on the floor of someone’s home you don’t recognize, smiling and playing with a set of keys and a tiny part of you feels like it recognizes her but you aren’t sure.

and you flip the pictures over hoping to find some sort of annotation that would give you context and all you find is the year 1964 stamped in tiny font along the edge.

and you flip them back over and time stands still as you realize that the recognition you feel is because she looks so much like you once did and next thing you know your hands are sweating and shaking and you have to sit on the floor because you’re crying so hard because it hits you all at once that you’re looking at your mother.

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

[jarofstyles]

Lush

Hello my ducklings! Since we have been getting a lot of questions about our Patreon and what is included, we decided to give you guys peeks into the series we have exclusively on there. This is Lush, escort y/n x dark businessman H. There will be some twists and turns in this one, hot smut, a fake relationship and a possessive and slightly obsessive dark H- our favorite. This series will only be on Patreon but this is the first part to give you a taste!

Check out our Patreon for access to Lush and our other exclusive series + 100+ exclusive writings.

Warnings- escorting, mention of homelessness and money struggles, daddy kink etc

WC- 2.9k

-----

Y/N knew her job, and she did it well.

Sit still, look pretty. Perched on her favorite client’s lap, his strong thigh covered in a trouser that matched the blazer that probably cost more than she’d made in the last 3 months, she sipped her champagne quietly and ‘let the men talk.’

Harry Styles was an enigma. He had popped up a few weeks ago, bringing her to a dinner after a debriefing in a lux hotel in one of the bigger hotels on the Vegas strip. The window had overlooked it all, a penthouse that seemed to be used quite frequently considering the fridge had been stocked and he had socks stuffed in a drawer that she’d used later that night.

“I need you to sit on my lap, keep me company.” He had said plainly. The man was intimidating. Broad and tall, soft brown hair swept back and off his forehead. Stubble shadowing his face and over his lip, his features were sharp and his eyes a little harsh, but she could whole heartedly admit that he was the most attractive client she’d ever had. Being a year in after escaping a situation that was still haunting her nightmares, she had been eager to accept the higher paying and well vetted job she had, thank god, stumbled into. It wasn’t conventional, no, but nothing really was in Vegas.

“I can do that.” She replied, hands folded in her lap. He stood before her as she had sat on the couch, looking up at him as he spoke. “Is that all we’re doing in our time together?” To put it in a nicer way of asking. She could have bluntly asked if he was going to want sex, but she did try to at least have a little decorum- until the situation granted the freedom of it. It wasn’t uncommon for her and she was safe, tested, and generally did enjoy sex- but it was a job. This time, however, would probably be enjoyed more than she had in the past. A real attraction to the man would be helpful in many parts of making this more enjoyable.

“Who said that?” He rose a brow, looking down at her. It was a smoldering look but she couldn’t find it in herself to look away as he got closer and tilted her chin up. “I intend to take everything you’ll offer. I’d suggest canceling your plans for tomorrow.” She didn’t have to ask why. It was clear this man intended to fuck her, and fuck her well.

Spoiler- he did.  Harry had, for all intents and purposes, rocked her shit. So when she found his name on her books twice the next week, she hadn’t complained. She’d been excited, actually, considering she’d been able to feel the sting of her ass when she’d sat in the Lyft the next morning to take her to her apartment. Another good thing about him, she found as she looked in her purse, was that he tipped extremely well. More than was deserved, if she was being honest, but the one time the girl brought it up he had shoved another hundred dollar bill into the waistband of her sleep shorts and sent her on her way.

It had become known to her that he specifically requested her. If she wasn’t available, he’d offer more money than the other client was paying- and her Madam had no problem with that, considering it upped her cut. She found herself with him 3 times this week, frequenting clubs and drowning out business talk as his large hand splayed across her waist and the other hand held a sweaty amber colored liquor on the rocks. Much to many of her friends and client’s surprise, Y/N didn’t drink much. She stuck to lighter things, champagne and rosé, and kept to a one to two drink maximum. She preferred keeping a clear head when on the job and honestly? Drinking wasn’t her thing. A buzz was nice, but anything past that meant a headache in the morning. She wasn’t a morning person to begin with.

This meeting was going past its normal time, making her wonder what was being said. If she was being frank- Y/N didn’t do much listening in his meetings. It felt like they were talking in code, another language, and she couldn’t be assed to listen about imports and exports and blah, blah, blah. Her brain was happy to sit and be warm on a handsome man’s lap, observing the dance floor. Dancing used to be so fun, something she’d always loved to do as a child. Now she didn’t get to do as much, even though she’d wished she could. Club dancing was far different than her normal type but if she was on the balcony of the most VIP of the VIP sections, she was going to take her people watching to the next level.

“Y’alright?” His raspy voice breathed over her ear, not taking his eyes off the men who were talking amongst themselves. “I know it’s late. We can go back soon.” While Harry wasn’t the most warm and fuzzy person, he did respect her time. He was a little scary, truthfully, and she didn’t want to upset him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was respectful and kind to her, he spoiled her with tips and orgasms, and she had no complaints. If staying out a bit later than he had said was the least of her worries besides his scowling, she was golden.

“I’m okay.” She smiled. “People watching. Sorry, I’m not paying attention. Dunno what half of the stuff you’re talking about means.”

Y/N had no reality of what he did. No clue. She was too afraid to google him. To ruin the illusion she had of him in her head. He passed the background test and signed the heavy contract that came with hiring her, so he wasn’t about to harm her or anything- and from what she’s learned in Vegas, sometimes you’re better off not knowing. There was a lot of shady business practices that went on. It was legitimately upset her if he was a bad person outside of the law, so she decided not to go searching for answers she possibly didn’t want to find.

“That’s good.” He murmured, pressing a private kiss underneath her ear. “Don’t worry about it. S’nothing interesting anyways. Got t’keep up appearances.” His voice dropped. “Would much rather be between your thighs. Missed this body while I was away.”

And, Oh. It made her hot, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as the words tickled against her ear. Harry had gone away on a business trip, he’d prefaced it because he had been gone 4 day. He’d prescheduled to meet her on the day he came back. Her stomach did a swoop in her body as the cool hand that held his glass deposited it on the table, finding her thigh and squeezing over it. “You did?”

She had to wonder if he was buttering her up, but the thought was dispelled because Harry didn’t need to do that. He had always been a bit blunt and she liked that about him. Less sweet talk that he didn’t mean. What he said made sense- complimenting her body and her mouth and appearance, what she did for him, but he never went too far and said things he didn’t mean. So she believed him when he nodded, slipping his hand further up her dress and making her swallow thickly. He’d given her pretty lingerie he’d bought from wherever he went, the buttery silk laying against her body under the dress that hugged her figure. Red, he said, because she was a little devil between the sheets. “I did. Got t’bring you with me next time.”

Some girls did that. Y/N wasn’t even sure what the rate would be for a trip, but the idea appealed to her. “You sure you can afford it?” She whispered back, a playful tilt to her lips. Obviously he could. He was by far the wealthiest man she had in her books, evident by the liquor he ordered, the watches he wore and the cars the drove in. It was arousing to her, if she was being honest. When she settled down one day, the one thing she really wanted was financial stability. Maybe that sounded shallow, but with her history with no money and being a little jaded, it made sense to her.

“Can afford that, and a shopping spree for you while I do business.” He brushed his cool fingertips against her slightly damp panties. Harry didn’t smile often, but when he did? It was a smirk. A hot, arrogant little smirk that she should probably be annoyed by, but wasn’t. “Need to get you out of here, though. Have something I want to talk to you about before I sink you down on my cock.” His fingers retreated after a gentle brush to find them wet, moving to her leg as he began to wrap up the meeting. People would listen, even if they weren’t finished- he just had that way about him.

—--

Y/N had no clue what, exactly, he wanted to talk to her about. They’d had some nice conversations so far about a plethora of things. Movies, books, restaurants, some morals. But it wasn’t too deep. Both of them had seen it for what it was, even if they had impeccable sexual chemistry. She didn’t know the man all that well, only what was told to her and what he had divulged- and knowing the man had a sweet tooth didn’t account for much. So it was slightly intimidating when he asked her to meet him in the living room of the suite as he put away his watch and jacket.

What could he possibly have to talk to her about? Her brain was coming up with nothing.

“C’mere.” He sat himself down on the couch, offering his lap back up to her. It wasn’t something she did in private unless his hands were down her panties or she was riding him, but she decided to go for it. Her heels kicked off to the side, she sat herself back in the familiar way. It had taken her off guard, but his hand took her own and she watched as he flipped it over, thumbing over her ring finger. “I need to ask you a favor. A proposition.” He murmured, calculating eyes going back to her face. “And you can say no, if you want. I’ll understand.” Of course, this made her alarm bells ring but there was little time to panic. Considering he was a very get to the point man, he did exactly that. “I’d like for you to quit your current job and pretend to be my fiance.”

The bomb was dropped. Why, exactly, a man of his caliber needed a fake fiance? She had not a fucking clue. Harry continued, her face slack in shock. He took that into account, it seemed. “I like you. You’re polite, know how to behave in public. Gorgeous little thing. You’re intelligent, you’re quick, and you understand how to keep to yourself. That’s a very valuable thing to me.” His thumb resumed rubbing her ring finger. “We have incredible sex. You fulfill and exceed my needs, and I’m satisfied with sex for once in my life.” Y/N let him do whatever he wanted and thoroughly enjoyed it. There was no faking it with them. Their chemistry crackled in the air when it shifted. There was no doubting that. “My family has been pressuring me to settle down. I have no time to properly date, nor the desire to.” He sure as fuck wasn’t the type to go on dating apps, and the dating pool he was around was a lot of vapid people with money hungry libidos. At least he would know Y/N was there for money and there would be no confusion between them. “I enjoy your company. It isn’t traditional nor conventional, but I’d provide for you. I will deposit your average monthly income in your own bank account and give you a card to my own. I’d pay for your rent while you stay with me, and you’d have free time to do as you please. Whatever hobbies you’d like. Horse riding, art, reading, I don’t care what it is if you like it.”

Her head was swimming. What the fuck? She’d heard of men falling in love with escorts, sure, but this seemed… More transactional. For some reason, it made her feel a little more comfortable. He wasn’t proclaiming love after barely knowing her. He knew how it went and that she needed to be provided for. “Like a sugar baby?” She blurted out.

“Not particularly. My fiance in title. You’ve been introduced as my girl to everyone already, so it isn’t a difficult sell to anyone but my family. We’d announce our engagement, I’ll bring you to London to meet them, let it run it’s course.” His eyes bore into hers. “I don’t want you with anyone else while you’re mine. I’ll be the only one you sleep with, and vice versa. I don’t want you to split your time between me and anyone else. I’m asking for devotion, which is a lot. But I’d like it to be you.”

“Why?” Y/N knew he had explained it but it was still confusing. “I know what you’ve said but… surely theres other people that you’d want to ask? I’m just an escort you’ve been seeing for a little while. I mean.. The sex is great, don’t get me wrong.” And she was extremely attracted to him and his energy, but… “I’m not in my escort mode all the time. I don’t want to be working 24/7. I’m not as docile while off the clock.” She wasn’t about to get put into 24/7 smile and nod territory. It was fine when it was an outing, or even a night, but she did have a personality she quite liked outside of it.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be agreeable all the time. In fact, I’d like to see you fight me a little.” Harry’s smirk returned. “Makes the sex hotter. But…” he returned to his business face. “I chose you because we get along. I don’t like a lot of people. I may pretend I do, but it’s difficult for me to find people who don’t make me irritated. You’re… interesting to me.” It wasn’t the answer she expected, no, but still. She had more questions.

“So what about after it’s all done and over with? I’ll end up on the streets, homeless again because I know Madam isn’t going to just let me back on her lists.” She crossed her arms, not realizing what she’d said. Harry caught it, pocketing it for later. It didn’t sit right that she had been on the streets at all, but that wasn’t a topic he could broach right now. He didn’t have the right to ask yet.

“I will make sure you’re set after this is done.” He promised. “I will have all of your expenses covered while you’re with me. Nails, hair, food, clothing, hobbies. You’ll be making your pay and then some every week and not touching it. And if it ends early, I will payout an extra mil. Does that sound reasonable?” He rose an eyebrow. “I’ve got the paperwork with me, but you can sit on it if you want.”

“How long can I sit on it for?” It took everything in her to not bite at her nails. The one thing the acrylics were good for was curbing that habit. “It’s not a no, but I’d like to look at the contract and have a lawyer look over it before I agree to anything.” As young as she may seem, she wasn’t stupid. This would be a perfect way to take advantage of her. While she didn't have that feeling from him, she’d be dumb not to protect herself.

She didn’t expect the smile from him, but it made her heart beat a bit faster as he brought her hand up to kiss it. “Smart fuckin’ girl you are.” He laughed. “Good. That works with me. I hope you do sign it, though.” His eyes darkened a bit. Harry wasn’t good at sharing and the idea of this pretty thing belonging to him, in essence, made his dick twitch. “I’d love to take you with me to Italy and see you on my yacht. Maybe fuck you on it. Think you’d really love that.”

Y/N had a feeling she would, too. The idea of being with one man, a man she so far enjoyed despite a bit of arrogance and intimidation, was appealing after a year here. But she needed to cover her own ass before sinking into something too good to be true. “I would.” Her nails moved from his hand to card through his soft hair. “I’d love that. But I think you should focus on tonight, hm?” Her legs opened a little, and she guided his hand back to where it had been previously. “Take a look at the pretty things you’ve already got, Daddy.”

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ hits different ”

leo valdez x daughter of aphrodite 🔨

moving on was always easy for y/n, so why did it hit different when it was a certain son of hepaestus

a/n im alive

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was always easy for Aphrodite girls. Or at least that’s what everyone thought. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought.

Love always came so easy to her. Boys fell at her feet to ask her out. It was so fun! She would switch them out like Ken dolls. Everyone knew that she had a new guy to obsess over every week before she got bored. The minute she got Aphrodite’s blessing, she had at least one boy from almost every cabin wrapped around her manicured little finger. She had flowers sent from the Demeter cabin nonstop. Whether or not she kissed- or more- the boy, depended on whether or not she liked the flowers. Well, unless he was cute enough.

But strangely enough, one twerpy son of Hephaestus survived the test of time. Her siblings all thought she went insane, or was replaced by an alien clone. She couldn't explain it. How she nearly peed from how much he made her laugh, or the way she felt like she was on a rollercoaster whenever his hand brushed against hers.

She could never forget when he finally asked her out. He showed up to her cabin with a necklace he made.

“You’ve probably gotten better jewelry than this, but-”

He couldn't even finish his sentence before her lips crashed onto his, “it’s the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N had never been happier than in the weeks that followed. Everything just finally made sense. She found herself painting her nails his favorite color and reflecting parts of him in how she dressed. Anything for him to get a certain look in his eyes and drag her into his cabin.

And everything was perfect. It wasn't the freedom that she was so accustomed to. It felt like Summer. She was engulfed in the love she felt from the boy, who she believed adored her to no end.

But now it feels like Summer where the Sun burns her heart and the sand hurts her feelings.

As she sat in a ball on her bed, a hat in her hands as she sobbed, she wondered what happened.

It had been over a month since he broke up with her. She just couldn't get over it, which was weird. Moving on was always easy for her to do.

She had put her friends through it during the first few weeks. They would throw parties and sneak out to the city- and each and every time she would get drunk and slur his name until someone shoved her into a car. Even when her friends would fill her ears with “love is a lie” just to get her by.

She stopped receiving invitations.

“I wish I could tell you why that idiot did it,” she heard her sister say.

She looked up at the girl, “I’ve been going through the evidence and it just doesn't make sense,” she muttered.

Piper sat at the end of Y/N’s bed, “I tried to talk to him, but he just won’t say anything about it.”

She rolled her tear stained eyes, throwing the hat onto the floor, “of course he wouldn't.” She sighed, looking at the door, “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“Do you want me to come?”

She shook her head, “I think I just need fresh air.” It was true though, she had barely been leaving her cabin except for mandatory training or meals. She stood up with shaky legs from how much she had sobbed. She slid on a pair of bunny slippers (me core) and walked out the door, luckily not many campers were out to see her mascara stains on her cheeks.

She made her way to the woods, arms crossed. There was a slight breeze from the September air that made her feel slightly better. She heard a crunch of leaves nearby that made her spin and looked around. She didn't see anyone, thank the gods, but she couldn't help but feel uneasy. Maybe they had finally come to take her away.

She continued walking until she collided with a body. She muttered an apology until she looked up at the person. Just to find the last person she should ever apologize to.

“Y/N,” he began, taken aback by seeing the girl he had been so keenly avoiding.

She stared silently at the boy as she waited for him to speak. But nothing came out. Just eyes on eyes waiting for the other to move, but neither did.

She finally decided she had had enough of this and turned around. Finding herself unable to leave as he gripped her arm.

“I’m sorry.”

She took a huff before turning back towards him, “you should be.”

He cringed at her hostility. He knew he deserved it. Before the incident, he was convinced that she had not an ounce of coldness in her. “I know.”

“Do you?” She pulled her arm away from him, “I have been trying to find an answer to why the fuck you would do this to me!”

His fingers slightly burned, “I did it for you, I was worried about you.”

She scowled, “huh? Are you stupid? What?”

He slightly laughed at her rhetoric, “I thought something was going to happen to me and I,” he sighed, “I didn’t want you to have to go through that.”

“Leo,” she began, “you put me through worse.”

He heart stung at the words, “I wanted you to move on and be over me by the time I… if I died.”

“But you’re alive,” she responded, “and I’ve had to watch you… exist. Without me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It's just you left me like.. like,” she paused, “no, I don't need another metaphor, it’s simple enough. You abandoned me.”

He looked down at her words, “I’m so sorry.”

She placed her hands on his neck, pulling him down to her height, “and if you died, I’d be coming right after you,” she smiled.

“Don’t say that.”

She let go of him, “I just want to be with you, Leo,” she mentioned, “and you took that from me.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry enough, baby.” Baby. Gods, she was about to be putty in his hands if he called her that again. Everything he had put her through would be buried six feet under.

He grabbed her hand, noticing the color of her nails. “Hey,”

“Don't say anything.”

“Okay.”

She smiled, “you’ve completely ruined me.”

“Why do you sound so happy about that?”

“I don't know,” she sighed, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling her closer to him while tracing his fingers up and down her arms, “I love you, I’m sorry.”

And with that, their lips touched. And for the first time in weeks, everything was okay.

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter Three

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 3109 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Pining. Ogling. Self love (m and f getting it done). Accidental voyeurism on reader's part. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. We like thick thighs in this house and so does Dave. Dave gives reader a nickname based on his perception of her. No use of y/n.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Three

The next few days passed in a blur as you adapted to your new life. You learned the route to and from the girls’ school, started taking care of the morning drop-off routine, and picked them up when neither Dave nor your mom could get out of work early enough. You explored the affluent seaside town you now called home, finding a quaint bookshop and café you knew would quickly become your go-to places along the main street downtown. You even walked the beach a few times, the salty air helping to clear your mind and soothe your soul. And, best of all, you picked out some color samples to test on the basement walls.

By Friday, you settled on a soft shade called Sea Salt that appeared to change color based on the amount of natural light, ranging from the palest owl gray to the lightest sea glass blue you’ve ever seen. It was beautiful and you couldn’t wait to cover the walls with it, knowing it would look different in the main living area of the basement than it would in the bedroom based on the ample natural light filtering through the small windows high up on the walls of the main area.

That evening, your mom and Dave had a black-tie event to attend in the city and they would be gone overnight, leaving you to take care of the girls. You grew close to them quickly, completely charmed by their sweet, sassy personalities and big, dark puppy eyes that perfectly matched their father’s. You were looking forward to this evening home alone with them and planned a sleepover in your basement suite.

Handing over a tip to the delivery guy, you accepted the large pizza and closed the door with your foot. Your mouth dropped open when you turned, your eyes landing upon Dave coming down the stairs in a perfectly tailored tux sans bowtie. God damn, the man looked good, like a secret agent sent to seduce every woman with a pulse. You practically had drool running down your chin at the sight of him.

Desire flared heavily in your belly, and for a moment, you hated your mother for taking such a fine specimen off the market. How did she get so lucky? Why couldn’t you have found him first?

“Take a picture, Firecracker. It’ll last longer,” he teased with a roguish wink as you stared at him. You hoped your eyes didn’t give away the longing you felt building up inside you.

“Shut it,” you clapped back before clearing your throat. “You, uh, clean up nice.” Heat rushed up your neck at the lameness of that comment.

“Wow, Daddy, you look so handsome!” Alice exclaimed as she and Molly came running into the room before he could respond to you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” Dave grinned down at them, running his hands over their hair. Still holding the pizza box, you gazed at them and tried tamping down that warm feeling pooling in your belly. It was fucking hot that he was such a good dad.

“What about me? Don’t I look beautiful?”

None of you noticed your mom come down the stairs until she spoke, attempting to steal the attention away from her husband. She waited; her arms flared dramatically as she twirled in a circle to show you all her black, form-fitting, floor-length gown. It was a nice dress, though the bosom cut dangerously low, bordering on too much for a black-tie event.

Alice and Molly excitedly assured her that she looked like a queen, with the added, entirely innocent, comment that she was too old to look like a princess. You barely held back a laugh at that, and Dave’s lips twitched when he met your gaze, his dark eyes lit up with amusement.

“You look very nice, mom,” you assured, knowing her ego took a hit from the girls’ comments. She did look pretty, though she went overboard with the makeup like usual. She always liked to push boundaries. “Hope you two have fun tonight.”

“We will, don’t worry,” Lisa said with a wink at you before clutching Dave’s arm and batting her fake eyelashes at him. “Right, baby? Did you load up our overnight bag already?”

“The bags are in the car,” Dave rumbled, bending down to hug his girls and breaking away from your mom’s grip on him in the process. You observed the loving interaction between father and daughters with fondness, ignoring that little voice in her head reminding you how much you’d love to hug him, to feel his body pressed against yours, how you ached to be the one going to a gala with him instead of your mother….

“Are you ready?” your mom asked when the goodbyes took too long for her liking. Turning to you, she added, “I expect you to clean up any messes y’all make before we get back in the morning.”

Dave’s eyes shot to your mother sharply, his displeasure clear before he turned to you with a reassuring look. “Just have fun tonight, don’t worry about cleaning up. We’ll be back early to work on painting.”

“Painting?” your mom asked with a high-pitched voice. “You’re letting her paint the basement? Don’t you think that’s rather excessive and unnecessary? She won’t be staying here long term, David. Don’t expect me to help. Not after telling me that I couldn’t paint the kitchen!”

“Gee, thanks Mom,” you grumbled under your breath. Why did she go out of her way to remind you that you were not a permanent fixture in their home, their lives?

Dave rolled his eyes and steered your mom toward the door, shooting you an apologetic half-smile over his shoulder as his gaze lingered on you. “Be good, girls, and have fun!” He winked at you before closing the door behind him, while your mom kept complaining about letting you paint the basement.

“Good luck,” you called out, checking the deadbolt before leading the girls to the basement with the pizza. You already had plates, cups, snacks, and drinks ready to go. “How about a movie marathon?”

“YES!” The girls cheered. “Can we start with Moana?” Molly asked.

“Sure. Then Alice can pick the next one.”

Within a few minutes, you had the movie cued up, doled out pizza for all three of you, and joined the girls on the nest of blankets you placed on the floor to watch the movie. Halfway through it, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. A smile arose unbidden when you saw who sent the message.

Dave: Feel free to call or text me if you need anything.

You: Will do. Enjoy your night out!

You expected that to be the end of it, but Dave sent another text.

Dave: I’d rather be home having pizza and a movie marathon with you girls, to be honest.

That surprised you.

You: Not a big party guy?

Dave: Not even a little bit.

Dave: I’d literally rather be anywhere but here.

That really surprised you.

The evening carried on with a few more texts from Dave. Nothing salacious, but he was chatty. You wondered what your mother thought of her new husband spending so much time on his phone, texting while having a night out with her. Did she know he was texting you? Did she even notice or was she just out living her best life and leaving her husband on his own?

Most of all, you wondered why he was texting you and not at least trying to enjoy spending time with your mom – his wife. You refused to think about it too deeply, not wanting to encourage the disturbing crush on your stepdad that was slowly, but surely trending toward actual feelings.

Dave turned into the driveway, pulling into the garage with a relieved sigh. He couldn’t wait to be out of the car and get a break from Lisa’s constant play-by-play of the night before. He heard the same stories more than twice over since they left the hotel. He also heard the same complaints about him being glued to his phone all night and not dancing with her. Of course, she failed to acknowledge that she spent half the night flirting with their neighbor Roger, who attended the event with his wife.

Not that it mattered for fuck’s sake. He was hungover and couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lisa, give it a fucking rest. Please.”

Her mouth slammed shut as he exited the car, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the oncoming headache. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning. He needed coffee and a god damned break from his wife’s incessant chattering.

There were no signs of life when he walked into the kitchen and slipped a pod into the coffeemaker. He was halfway down the stairs to the basement with a steaming cup of black coffee in hand before he heard Lisa enter the house, stomping her feet on the hardwood like a fucking child.

The sight that met his eyes when he reached the bottom of the stairs made him forget all about his wife, her nagging, and his building headache. His girls were cuddled up to you on the floor, the three of you still asleep, cozily wrapped in a sea of blankets. His heart melted, then grew three sizes as he took in the contented expressions on your faces. His eyes lingered on you, noting how curled one arm above your head with your hair spread out like a halo across the pillow.

Fuck. Even in sleep, you were gorgeous.

Unable to tear his eyes away, yet unwilling to wake you, Dave pulled his phone from his pants pocket and quietly snapped a few pictures. His teasing line to you from last night – the one about pictures lasting longer – struck him as oddly apropos.

Not wanting to disturb the three of you, Dave slipped silently up the stairs to finish his coffee before showering and getting himself ready to help you paint. When he returned to the kitchen, you and the girls were finishing your cereal at the breakfast bar.

“Daddy!” the girls chorused when he entered the room, and he grinned at them. Nothing made him feel loved like his daughters greeting him like this.

“Good morning, my sweet girls! Did you have a fun night?” His big brown eyes flashed to you, drinking in the soft, sleepy look on your face as the girls regaled him with tales of the sleepover. “Well, that’s great! I wish I could have been here for all the fun.”

“Next time, Daddy,” Alice replied sagely, causing you and Dave to laugh.

“You ready to get started on today’s adventure?” he asked once you finished your cereal and coffee.

“Sure, let me get changed and we can get started,” you replied eagerly. “I have all the supplies downstairs.”

After instructing the girls to change into their day clothes and keep themselves entertained for a while, Dave followed you downstairs, removing the wall hangings and covering the floor and furniture with plastic sheeting.

Dave mixed the paint next, setting up the brushes and rollers, and poured it into two trays by the time you exited the bedroom, dressed in a pair of fitted sleep shorts and an old, oversized tee shirt that hung off one shoulder. He groaned internally at the sight of your thick thighs in those little shorts.

This day was going to be an exercise in self-control, he thought, watching you bend over to pick up a roller, his eyes glued to your voluptuous ass. Fuck.

Hurriedly adjusting his shorts before you could spot him, Dave grabbed a roller and got to work. The pair of you worked companionably, joking and sharing conversations as the hours passed. You made quick work of the large, open room, and Dave sent you on to get started in the bedroom while he finished the edging in the main area. He had a much steadier hand than you, something you learned early in the adventure.

When he finally joined you in the bedroom, Dave couldn’t help but laugh. There were paint specks in your hair, a smudge on your cheek, and your left eyebrow was now a mottled light gray.

“This is a good look for you,” he chuckled, gesturing at the mess you made of yourself. The urge to strip you naked and pull you into the shower with him nearly overwhelmed him.

You looked back at him, chagrined yet satisfied that you finished the walls. “What can I say, I really enthusiastic about my work,” you sassed with a shrug.

“I can see that. Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll do the edging here.” He watched you duck into the closet and pull out a change of clothes. When you turned to leave the room, he laughed at the stripe of paint across the seat of your shorts.

At the sound of his laughter, you ducked back into the room. He blinked at you owlishly as you moved closer, not noticing your hand reaching out to swipe a finger across his paintbrush until you booped his nose with the fresh paint-covered finger. Cackling, you danced out of the room leaving him to stare, stunned yet aroused, after you.

How were you so damn cute?

Later, after everything was cleaned up and the first coat of paint was left to dry, Dave ordered takeout for everyone. Lisa bragged about the gala the evening before while you all sat around the table and Dave sighed heavily.

He had such fun spending the day working with you, that he forgot all about his wife.

That certainly spoke volumes.

After dinner, Dave quietly asked Molly and Alice to share a room for the night so you could sleep upstairs. “You obviously can’t sleep down there with all the paint fumes, Firecracker,” he responded when you tried to argue. That took the wind out of your sails, and he grinned at your resigned expression.

He went to sleep that night knowing you were just down the hall, his dreams filled with you. He didn’t know if that was comforting or terrifying… or something else entirely.

One late evening, you walked around the neighborhood, enjoying the cooler air moving in off the shore and the full moon overhead. You loved checking out the houses – just like Dave’s, they were more upscale than you were used to. The peacefulness of the affluent, yet sleepy neighborhood settled over you as you headed back to the house. Bypassing the front door, you went through the vinyl gate on the side of the house with the intent of sitting on the patio for a bit, the thick grass below your feet softening your steps.

A sudden splash followed by an immediate sigh caught your ears as you reached the back corner of the house, and you froze. Autumn settled into the New England air, and it was cold enough that Dave winterized the pool already. So, what was the splashing?

Peeking your head around the corner of the house, you spied the string lights above the patio, the soft glow highlighting Dave sprawled in a hot tub. That was new… the hot tub and seeing your stepdad shirtless.

Your mouth fell open at the sight of him, eyes closed in relaxation with arms spread along the hot tub’s edge, steamy water bubbling around his fit body. His bare chest, wet and glistening in the subtle lighting, made you salivate. Another sigh left his lips as his left arm shifted, his hand dipping beneath the bubbling water. Dave’s head tipped back to lean against the small cushion at the lip of the hot tub and you could see the muscles of his left arm working in a slow, steady rhythm.

A low moan slipped from his lips.

Oh.

Oh.

Holy shit.

You couldn’t move as the realization washed over you. Instead, you stared in awe, continuing to spy on him feeling secure that you were hidden in the shadows. You should feel dirty, like a fucking pervert watching your stepfather like this…

You felt anything but that.

The sight was so fucking hot you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning aloud as arousal flooded your senses, the evidence of it pooling in your panties.

Dave arched against the side of the tub, sending ripples through the water as his hand moved faster, harder beneath the surface. You longed to get closer, to climb into the heated water with him, replace his hand with your own.

Fuck! When did your hand slip past the waistband of your joggers? Your fingers were knuckle deep in your soaked pussy before you realized what you were doing, body leaning heavily against the wall of the house, eyes locked on Dave as you fucked yourself, palm grinding against your clit.

What the hell were you doing?

Who fucking cared. You were too worked up to think straight.

A jolt of pleasure coursed through you as you ebbed closer to the edge in time with Dave.

“Fuck.” The grunted curse reached your ears, Dave’s voice rumbling from deep in his chest though he visibly fought to stay quiet. You plunged your fingers as deep as you could at the sound, rubbing hard against your cunt until your orgasm washed over you. Curling your free hand into a fist, you shoved it against your mouth, teeth biting into the skin to keep you from making a sound. Dave came with a stuttered grunt, drowning out the small whine that snuck past your fist.

Holy fuck. You’d never done anything so depraved, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bad about it. It was the single hottest thing you’d ever experienced solo.

Another splashing sound drew you back to reality, and you took off, quietly working your way back to the front door and down to the basement before Dave saw you. If you slipped your soaked fingers into your mouth as you went, wondering what Dave would think of the taste, no one needed to know.

Jumping in the shower, you wondered what Dave thought about while getting himself off.

What kind of fantasies did he have?

Did he think about his wife – your fucking mom?

Did he… did he ever think about you?

You climbed into bed after drying off and applying your cocoa and shea butter moisturizer, gentle lingering tremors still coursing through your body from that fantastic, entirely unexpected orgasm. You fell asleep with your mind still full of the image of Dave in the hot tub.

tbc

Chapter Four

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini

[ataraxiaspainting]

Russian Roulette.

Yan L x GN Reader.

Synopsis: You decide to test your luck while it still lasts, as small as it is. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, past stalking, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1.1k.

*~*~*~*

“Hmm… why do you want me to do that, exactly?” The response is much longer than a simple okay or sure or no, but the question was what you expected to be in the realm of absolute possibility. You have given L too little credit in the past, when you first woke up here, thinking that he can shut himself up and go back to whatever he usually does, like eating cake or watching the same footage of you in your home for the tenth time that week. 

You can work with this.

“It’s not like you have given me much else to do.” You say, not biting your tongue this time around, the bitterness in your voice coinciding with the box of sour fruit gummies on the other side of the table, with the artificial sweetness in L’s tone. “Plus if you want to treat me as well as you say you want to, you would oblige the simple request of playing a game with your favorite captive.”

His eyebrow raises at the last word that slipped out of your mouth, not out of guilt or shame or fear that your reality has punched him straight in the face, but out of just… curiosity.

“What if I don’t?” He smirks, looking up at you. “You did just rudely rush in here stomping and making demands… not exactly the behavior I would think of when I hear the word captive.”

“I’m going insane.” You say, glaring down at him, your fists curled so deeply into your pajama pants that you swore that they would break. 

He chuckles, and it feels like the messy hair covering your angry face has just gotten even more disheveled. 

“I jest, I jest… fine… I’ll play with my favorite captive.”

It feels like this weight has just been lifted off of your head, but the one in your heart remains.

“No need to be so… tangled up.” He says the pun naturally, popping in a few more pieces of the neon candy. 

You start grumbling curses under your breath as if he did reject your proposal. He didn’t though. He didn’t, so you’ll play by his much longer game for a bit more before you struggle yet again.

“Not funny.”

There are only six pieces of candy left in the yellow box, each one a different color.

“What are you waiting for?” He asks, slouching forward instead of backward this time around and crossing his legs. “Go get your… game.”

You scoff and race off to L’s bedroom, putting your knees next to the mattress that is on the opposite side of L’s bed. Under your pillow are the six red plastic cups you stole from the cupboard last night, along with a chocolate egg still in its packaging, something you got from L after threatening to jump on your mattress until the few trinkets he got for you would fall on the floor and break. You won for once, in the end, but that condescending look he had while giving it to you makes you want to kick him in the groin again. 

It is the same look he has when you return to him, tail tucked between your legs as you set up the cups and the chocolate egg on the table. The box of candy is empty now. How in the hell does he not get so many cavities?

“Alright then, explain the rules.” He raises his arms to the ceiling and yawns loudly, obnoxiously. 

You sit down on the opposite side of the table. Your posture is much more restrained than his, he notes. Your hands are on your lap and your back is straight. You still don’t know how to relax. A symptom of being raised in high society.

“It’s a game I used to play with the younger servants when I was little.” You explain. Thinking of the past brings back unwanted feelings, but thinking of the present does the same. You have never experienced true freedom, but at least here you can speak your mind and your emotions. God, maybe you are going insane, being… thankful to him, your captor. “Someone guesses which cup has the object underneath. If they win, they get to ask a question to the person who scrambled the cups. If they lose, the person who scrambled the cups gets to ask the question.”

The image of a smaller you playing with porcelain cups and a ring, perhaps your mother’s, as the servants look confused makes L laugh softly. How cute.

“I’ll go first.” You insist, putting the chocolate egg under one of the cups and swiftly moving them around. “Okay. Go on. Don’t take your time.”

“Alright.”

L’s pointed finger moves slowly to the cup in the middle.

“If I remember correctly, it is this one, isn’t it?” He asks. “Right?”

That smile of yours makes choosing the wrong cup on purpose makes it worth it in L’s eyes. 

“Nope.” You lift the one farthest to L’s left and your right. The chocolate egg is there, untouched.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised, instead still smiling. You do the same, albeit unknowingly.

“Alright, my turn now.” You didn’t even get to ask him a question, but you are too deep in your pride to care about it right now. You won against L for once. You’re proud. It’s cute.

One by one, you slide the cups and the chocolate egg over. You’re confident, it would appear. 

How cute.

He puts one cup over the chocolate egg and moves all of them around, much faster than you did your turn. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to concentrate. 

He stops moving them, and it feels like the weight on your heart becomes even heavier.

Your pointer finger shakes as you move it to the cup in the center, silent.

L shakes his head.

“Nope.” He says, the word mocking yours.

His right elbow rests on the corner of the table, his palm cradling his chin as he looks on, to the shakingness of your breath, to the way your folded hands tremble. 

The air feels thick, and you don’t even know why. Or do you?

“You already know what I am going to ask you, aren’t you?” The question is longer than anticipated. 

“N-No.” You stutter.

“Oh?” The sound feels like a stab to the heart or a punch in the face. “That’s fine, I guess.”

He leans in. Closer and closer. You back away, but not enough to not smell how sugary his breath is. 

“There is a knife missing from the knife drawer. Where is it?” 

You didn’t win against L, you say to yourself. He won.

“...Underneath my pillow.”

[junrenjun]

Pretty

kim jungwoo x monitor engineer!reader (gender neutral)

Jungwoo is frustrated. And his stage manager's annoying voice isn’t helping either. “Jungwoo I said we were going full out. Why are you lip syncing?” Like he would even purposefully be lip syncing right now.

Taeyong, as always, defends him before he can do it himself. “His mic isn’t working sir.” 

The annoyance rolls off their stage manager in waves. “Alright. Y/N can you fix his mic please?” 

He sees you enter the stage from the corner of his eye and oh god, he can already hear Johnny’s taunting. “Don’t cream your pants, Woo.” Why couldn’t someone else be the monitor engineer today? 

Ever the professional, you step up to him and ask, “pack?” He hands you the mic pack with trembling hands. You sit there and inspect it, tweaking the wires and messing with the jacks. Every once in a while, you ask him to test the mic and he dutifully does so. It has yet to work. 

You hum once in discontent. “We’re going to have to take this off.” Without warning, you shove the hand with the pack up his shirt, the other reaching down from the neckline. Now, it really shouldn’t bother Jungwoo. This is a daily occurrence at this point. Monitor engineers, managers, teammates, and even stylists have threaded his mic pack for him. But the fact that it’s you has him blushing.

It must be obvious, because he can hear Haechan’s evil giggle along with some mumbling from what sounds like Mark and Yuta. He really hopes you aren’t paying attention to them. Or him, if he’s being honest. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat shakes him from his stupor. He looks down to see you sticking out your hand, gesturing for something. A blush paints your cheeks as well. You must have heard his group mates. “Can I have your headset please?” you ask, slightly more timid than normal. 

He hands you the item, finding that you’ve already disconnected it and his IEMs from the pack. You take it gingerly and turn on your heel, mumbling something about following you. He doesn’t register the words at first, feet still rooted to the ground. You notice the delay, looking over your shoulder and raising your eyebrows at him. “Cute,” he thinks to himself before finally following. 

Though one of his IEMs is in, he can still hear Haechan’s remark from the other side of the stage. “Be back quick lovebirds!” He looks down to see you wide-eyed, color heavily creeping up your neck. Though your embarrassment is nothing compared to the absolute mortification he feels right now.

Once finally away from everyone else and tucked into your little corner of backstage, he talks. “Sorry about them.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off. “It was just a little joke.”

Those six words broke his heart right then and there. “Yeah,” he laughs awkwardly. “Just a little joke.” 

He must be absolutely shit at lying because you instantly turn to look at him suspiciously. “Jungwoo,” you say pointedly. “Is there a reason they called us lovebirds?”

His heart drops to his stomach. The look on his face betrays him. “Jungwoo…” you say once more. 

“Okay, okay!” he concedes. “I may or may not have admitted that you were the prettiest staff member when I was really drunk one night.” 

You hum. “Okay, and are your drunk words also sober thoughts?” 

He looks at you, stunned. His mouth hangs open and he’s sure the image is reminiscent of a fish. You simply laugh and turn back toward your work station. “I’m just kidding with you. But I am very flattered, so thank you.” 

You continue to tinker with his mic for a few minutes. He’s left to linger behind you and overthink that entire conversation. While you didn’t directly turn him down, you did very much brush off the “pretty” comment. Oh, Jungwoo is so fucked. Not only did you find out his little secret, but you basically think it’s all a joke. This is going to haunt him forever. 

Before he can wallow in pity any longer, you test the mic. The sound of your voice reverberates across the stadium and you cheer in success. Without any other words, you hand it back to Jungwoo. He rests the headset back on his ears, while you connect the wires to the pack. This time, he holds his breath as you pull on the neck of his shirt. 

Though it seems you have other plans for him. Your other hand snakes up under the hem and you trail your fingertips lightly over his lower stomach. He gasps suddenly. You slowly drag them across his body and up his back. Moving at a torturously slow pace, you lean up to whisper in his ear. “I think you’re pretty too, Woo.” 

Finally, you grab the pack from your other hand at the top of his shirt, bringing it down to secure at the waist. You’re just about to pull away when Yuta’s voice rings out from above. “Hey lovebirds! If you’re going to flirt, turn the mic off next time!” 

Jungwoo is redder than a cherry when he finally makes his way back on stage.

[scrubbinn]

_____ HRT: 15 months: “Human”

“Hey Mayday. How's my girlfriend doing today?... I hope you can hear me in there. I'm recording another tape for you in case you forget everything again. I just got back from the doctor, they ran some tests, still couldn't figure out what's up with my knee. I think maybe I'm just cursed, with this broken human body. I guess you don't have to deal with that now huh? Lucky.”

“It just sucks, you know? Not a single medical doctor in Canada can tell me what's wrong and then when suddenly, magic exists, it gets regulated so you can't use it for medicine! Ugh. Rules are dumb, why do we even have them. Also sucks that I have to walk here every time I miss you. Which is a lot. Why does everything have to be so shit?”

“Speaking of shit, you should have heard me go off on that doc when you first started… cocooning? I’m blanking on the word. But I just went off on that man, It felt so good just to throw everything back in that pompous jerk's face! He had it coming, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to go off on a medical professional. He does have his uses, I suppose. You weirdly seem to like him, and at least he can put in enough effort to care about your physical health. But you should have seen how he reacted to you, he makes me so, so, so, AAAAARG! Sorry, you don't like yelling right?”

“You know, when I heard about you passing out nearly half a year ago, I thought, this is it, I'm going to lose her forever. I guess I did, when she decided to forget me. That's not fair, I just, I can't help still being mad about it. After everything we went through, and everything you went through with our friends and family. This really meant more than all of those memories put together? God you're such a dummy. I wish I could understand you.”

“Getting to meet you all over again, I didn't hate it like I thought I would. No matter the memories, it really was still you. Just, a little different. Sorry I kept pushing you to remember something… Maybe it was wrong of me. But every time I saw your face, your eyes looked back like they were trying to remember anything. It made me kind of happy, like I was important enough that some small part of you didn’t want to let go of me. I thought we were making progress. But if we have to do it again when you come out. I might actually start to hate it.”

“...Hey, you are happy right? This is what you wanted, yeah? You know I'm ok with you not being human. When you told me you were thinking about this, I supported it. Though, I'm still having trouble getting used to it. I don't really know how to feel now that you're like this. I just, I want what makes you happy, and I know you want the same for me. It's just been difficult right now. To keep smiling. I… I went to that sushi place we were going to go to. They had really good unagi. I ate so much I could barely afford the bill, haha. I know if I go there again without you, it's just going to taste like nothing. If you're not there with me, what's the point? This moment. The world has color again, I can taste things again when I'm in this room, and it hurts so much because you're not here. I'm sorry I… I'm trying not to cry in front of you hun. I'm sorry.”

* * *

“You don't mind if I stay here tonight do you hun? I don't really feel like walking back home right now. When I’m with you I- um, hello?”

“Oh didn’t realize anyone else was here? You’re Abigail right?”

“And your May’s mom right?” Are you here to see her?”

“Yes, I haven’t actually checked in since I heard the news. Is that. Her?”

“Pretty sure yeah. Unless there’s another girlfriend shaped cocoon that I missed. D- Do you need a tissue?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you… Pardon, but would you be able to answer a question? I don’t really understand this whole therian thing. I’m still a little shocked when Mich- Mayday said she was doing this sort of thing in the first place. I’m fine with it, I support her. But, did she need to do this?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well I mean, did she need to change? Isn’t it just safer to hide? She’s doing such a brave thing but there are so many people that might hurt her. It's my job to worry about her, and I know this city is better and all with this sort of thing, but what if she gets attacked when she visits, what am I supposed to tell my sister if she asks what Mayday is up to. My family doesn't even know her name is Mayday now.”

“...Oh. Oh, this is weird seeing it from an outsider perspective.”

“I'm sorry? What do you mean?”

“It's that you don't get it, I mean I forgot it until now, but you don't understand. It would have been more dangerous if she didn't do this. She's in pain, her gender, Her body, her species. They don't match her brain. It's not like it's a choice either. She's hurting. Her staying human, she might have made worse choices. Ugh, I'm sorry hun. I should have realized how much this means to you, I'll be here, for real this time. I'll be here for y…

Oh my god, it's tearing. G-g-go! Get a doctor!”

“What? Oh! Uh, right!”

“Hun! Can you hear me? It's me! Follow my voice!”

“A…b…i…

Mimic HRT: 15 months: “no longer”

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

Start - Prev - Next

Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315, @aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywine

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I was thinking about the possibility of Killer finding a young Papyrus in a destroyed AU and taking him under his wing and I was thinking of possible reasons why he would do this, you know?

While he's with Color, I feel like, in his mind, it would feel as almost the only option. Well, rescuing him that is, not taking care of him after. But, anyway, that's what Color would do and what Color would want him to do, and, while Killer is the type to test limits, he's also desperate for the approval of those he feels are in charge (which isn't exactly the case with Color, but their whole thing is rather complicated).

That said, I think while with Color the rescue is where their interactions would stop. Color would probably help him find someone more suited to take care of young Papyrus in the Omega Timeline, and Killer isn't the type to get attached so easily so he'd be happy to let go.

Now, while he's living under Nightmare is a different story.

Mostly because, under Nightmare, his directive is not to kill anyone. Dead people don't suffer after all. But also, a universe that is almost entirely empty is pointless for the God, so he may want to get rid of that one to free up some space.

So, imagine Killer sneaks this Papyrus into the castle behind Nightmare's back and, at first, it is entirely because my guy is following the Nightmare directive: no killing unless Nightmare specifically approves of it. Going behind Nightmare's back was less intentional and more of a result of Nightmare not caring/paying very little attention to someone as hopeful as Papyrus.

Once at the castle, keeping Papy hidden and protected feels like the only way to keep respecting the no killing directive, whether it's an extended Bad Sanses situation or not. 'Cause Nightmare would lose his mind if he found out that Killer is smuggling people behind his back and he has fits of violent rage when that happens. And he doesn't think when he's angry (and, of course, Killer's the one paying the consequences for whatever he ends up doing, so no thanks). And if Dust is there, having a Papyrus anywhere near him is just a bad idea.

It would also be interesting to see how exactly Killer goes about taking care of Papy. Because, to me, in his mind he would soon start to see Papy as just either one of his cats or one of his weapons who need routine maintenance and little else. Which would be a terrible existence for the poor guy, because I don't think that Killer would be the type to talk with those much...

That does feel like Stage 2’s mindset, yes. Especially when serving Nightmare. I feel like Killer be widely torn in all directions on what to do with Papyrus under Nightmare—his instincts, feelings, and orders all sending him mixed signals.

Feelings from Stage 1–the internal horror and impeding dread, the horrific guilt and shame, yet still the selfish desire for something familiar, to try and wash away some of his sins.

His orders from Nightmare not to kill, and yet his training from Chara dictating that he kill Papyrus. He training to be attuned to Chara’s needs and wants paired with the same lingering attachment he had with Chara making him feel compelled to care for the child and basically become a doormat—instinct to bend and mold himself to Papyrus’ will the exact same way he did with Chara.

The underlying fear and resentment of yet again finding himself at the whims of a damn child that fuels Stage 3. The constant reminders that isn’t just any child, or a Chara, but a Papyrus—his biggest enemy. The one he has to kill. Impending dread of what’ll happen if he keeps trying to resist, what’ll happen if he does give in.

I’d imagine taking care of a Papyrus under Nightmare will send his Stages into a whirlwind of conflicting desires—and he’d be torn between wanting to escape and hide away from it all, but knowing he has to be present, because who knows what’ll happen if he switches into another Stage.

He wouldn’t be able to attach himself to the kid in this environment, he’d actively keep himself distant and detached, would probably avoid trying to be in higher Stages around him—and as a result, the kiddo would likely feel like Killer isn’t really..all there? Aware? He may even feel dehumanized on some level, as if a robot is taking care of him than anything real—even if this robot is being very meticulous and isn’t hurting him. Yet.

Perhaps Papyrus would feel the need to tread carefully, but may also feel a sense of safety and being seen while with Killer—he always seems to know what he wants and what he needs before Papyrus himself does. But I’d imagine he’d very confused between the “good, sad” brother (Stage 1) and the “cold, robot” brother (Stage 2.)

He has all sorts of ideas of what could happen if the kid is caught—he knows because he’s often the one doing it all, with eyes watching his every move, body acting on autopilot. He won’t sugar coat it either—he’d make it very clear to Papyrus what is likely to happen to him if he is ever seen, caught, heard. If he doesn’t listen to and follow Killer’s orders.

But ultimately I don’t think Stage 1 would want Papyrus there. With Nightmare. Even if a part of him selfishly doesn’t want to part with him either.

He can’t afford attachments, he can’t afford having more responsibilities, more burdens and drains on resources—and he will also feel guilty for thinking of his little brother like that, but he doesn’t feel he can control those thoughts. To him, the second he brought this kid within reach of himself, he’s already sealed his fate.

Nightmare wouldn’t hurt or kill this child. He’d have Killer do it. And Killer could never think to say no when he’s “like that”—even when he hesitates, and something seems..off.

Papyrus will die, he thinks. Every other Papyrus has—usually by his own hands, as he watches from behind his eyes (st1) or from a 3rd person view (st2). But maybe some small part of him, a flickering light, would want to try. Keep the kid alive until a better option is available out of the castle—even if it means dumping the kid in some neutral AU with some clothes and weapons and coin. Becoming a little faint memory in the kid’s mind, or better yet, forgotten entirely. Finding him a better brother.

(Imagine Stage 1 giving little Papyrus tips on how to handle and behave around him when he’s “like that.” Something about how he won’t hurt Papyrus, not unless “the bad man tells him to,” and to stay safe he must hide away from the bad man.)

Things will likely be different in his Good Ending though, where he’s away from Nightmare and has Color’s support and help. I think it’s in this ending where Killer would have a harder time letting go. In all this new, Stage 1 wants to cling to something familiar. Something grounding. Even if it’s painful.

If Killer is ultimately able to maintain the care for the child, would probably differ based on interpretation, adequate care and support, and how far along he is in recovery.

But also..would he even be allowed to have a child? Given his history, if the Omega Timeline has something equivalent to the CPS or a foster system, would they have to evaluate him if he ever attempted to legally adopt the Papyrus? If he has to give the kid up anyway, would any adopted or fostering family even allow a known mass murdering terrorist visitation—supervised or not, rehabilitating or not?

Even if Killer ever wanted to become a parent or caretaker, he’d likely face heavy scrutiny and judgment during and after the whole thing. Maybe some brave souls would even try to step in and remove the kid themselves.

[ohthemis]

I saw your pregnancy headcanon! So wholesome and lovely ❤️. Now what would be their reaction when you tell them u want a baby?

tot boys when you want a baby

characters: all

ARTEM WING

stars in his eyes. he's shocked at first (thinks you're messing with him)

"are you serious? you're not joking around?" "of course."

pulls you into the tightest hug ever. suddenly he's thanking you and everything.

"god, i love you so much" "i love you too." "thank you, thank you, thank you."

if you're trying for a child, he literally tracks your ovulation with those period tracker apps.

"let's try in 2 days." "not that i'm complaining, but that's oddly specific." "it's your ovulation date."

promises the world to you. he's just so ecstatic.

"i'll be the best parent. i swear." "of course you will." "you won't even have to lift a finger."

MARIUS VON HAGEN

absolutely no shame

"you look nervous, did you think i wouldn't agree?" "no, but..." "let's start now, in fact!"

he exhibits no self control and maybe that's why you love him

"no worries, mc! together, we'll be a baby making machine!" "please never say that again" "why not?!"

probably the least stressed over it out of the four. and in a good way.

"are you not scared at all marius?" "of course i am! but why wouldn't i be happy about this? i'm going to have a baby with you, mc. i'd say my happiness far outweighs my fear."

he knows it's going to be hard, and he's going to be cheery for that reason.

"you know, in a few months time, both of us are going to feel like absolute shit. so why not enjoy now?" "is it really that simple?" "it is for me. it's not hard for me to be happy when i'm around you."

LUKE PEARCE

he's so in love with you it's disgusting

"i'm excited thinking about it, mc." "i'm excited too." "i can't wait to see little us running around wrecking the house. it'll be the best part of my life."

scrapbooks everything

"are you sure we need a picture of the pregnancy test?" "of course!" "if you're sure..."

practically glued to your side

"does anything hurt? you need to puke?" "i feel fine, actually." "maybe you should take a day off..."

he prefers to build the furniture for the baby room instead of buying

"would this shade of yellow be cuter or should i change it to the more orange-y one?" "are they not the same color?" "you're right. the first one is better." "???"

VYN RICHTER

super serious about the whole thing. not fucking around.

"having children isn't easy. are you sure you want this?" "yes, i'm sure, vyn." "i trust you, you know that. but this won't be like anything else we've ever gone through."

tries to fully plan it out to the best of his ability. sounds like a medication ad.

"have this. it helps with body ache and immunity." "it smells weird." "it's safe and healthy. your tongue might not love it, but your body will."

if you're trying for the baby, he's suddenly in touch with the top OBGYNs and pediatricians.

"meet your new OBGYN, my love." "what's wrong with my old one?" "there were too little "top 1 in the country"'s on her resume."

god bless him, he's doing his best

"you have 132 open tabs on babies?" "if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right." "we'll probably need less news articles and more pregnancy tests."

[upn-the-sky]

General Kratos (no-ashes OOAK, part 1)

The headline is a spoiler itself, but whatever, because today is the day, when i finally can share the part of my latest work!

This is going to be my second custom of the action figure and long story short. When I had a first thought about having a tan-skinned human Kratos, I was blessed with rare enthusiasm, because we don't have any official figures of Kratos in his "golden ages" as a human and general of the Spartan army (WHY).

It would be easy just to repaint figure from mass production, but those figures are all post-vow-to-Ares. And we need to be canon. If we make Kratos from the timeline when his soul was still his, we make him fully-General!!

Why not to go under the cut to see how is it going?

Everything starts with the head as usual. I bought it last fall, I guess? You have no idea how hard it is to find a bald head with a beautiful scull. With the right proportions of the face to match the body and to match Ares. (They are going to stand together). All "action heads" are different and rarely interchangeable and I guess I used all my luck at this step, because things became so problematic after, that I nearly lost my mind. In a time I also bought a head of a nordic Kratos in a hope to make my life easier, and oh god it is giant even for a giand body I have.. This head now in my scrap.

Anyway. Let's look at our donor. Don't know who is this...

You probably think 'meh he doesn't look like Kratos' and you are right! But what do I have here? A KNIFE!

The plan was simple, I just needed to cut off his neck and face and re-sculpt this head entirely.

Step. By step. I cut and build again his eyes, eyebrows, nose, lips, chin, cheekbones, jawline, forehead, nape... until I started to see him. Hi~

Actually, you never can say, how the sculpt will show itself after painting. It is the most cruel and frustrating thing, you can like the result, but the face easily can play uno reverse card with you in the end. With those thoughts I made a new neck for him. Because default neck of the body I chose was too long and wide and has an absolutely useless point of artuculation. First try, second try, and after curing it still seemed a bit too long, so after passing some time I cut the bottom of the head a bit to set it deeper.

After finishing the sculpting I sended all and prepared everything for toning head and neck with the airbrush. Aaaand here my airbrush died. When I bought a new one with a normal compressor, I proceed. Somehow I repaint it 5 or 6 times in a row. God bless my "red stone" primer, really. Quick color match test! Nice?

Nice! Now we can finally paint his face and body. Really I have no idea how doll customizers uses pencils for such a small faces. How! Brushes and a liquid paint is the only option for me. And I am happy about improving my technique since I painted Ares! ❤

By the way, his scar is carved, you can feel it, it is just hard to see it at photo.

Oh gosh here I had a big exhalation, because sculpt didn't do a sucker punch to me, while it could. I didn't give him a too angry face for a yet-secret reasons, but wow.. he is.. so young. ?? and.. human-like It is easy to forget that there were time, when Kratos wasn't 200% done. It is so mind-wrecking. I.. it is hard to show at the pictures how much life and personality he actually has irl. I will gave you a better pictures next time, when I get used to him, I just see now how easily electric and natural lights and shadows change the perception of his face. But.. still wow.. He needed the last thing. His beard. Here could be a lot of curses, because it ate 3 days and 4 tries to glue and form it, but it won't be here! Let's just have a small laugh, because I used actual goat wool for his goatee. And we finally can assemble him!

What's next you ask?

I kinda have nothing to say except 'I am making his Dominus armor now 👺'.

Thank you for watching and commenting in tags if you did it when I made Ares doll, I love you guys

Stay tuned! Skeletor will return very soon!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Blind Love Chapter 22

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there

Jude: —You’ve been shortenin’ your lifespan by testin’ on yourself.

(—Huh?)

I immediately turned heel and went back into the hallway.

(What did Jude say just now)

(...Roger…on himself…)

My heart was pounding.

I still wanted to hear the rest so I eavesdropped by the door.

Roger: …Oh? Al’s directly asked me before, but it’s the first time you are. How’d you come to that conclusion?

Jude: We went to beat up a mafia boss dealin’ cannabis once.

Roger: Yeah, that casino owner with the wild beard.

~~ Flashback ~~

Casino owner: Life’s a game! Let’s make a bet on who dies here, us or you!

Jude: The hell ya yappin’ ‘bout, just go die.

Roger: Heh, hey now. So, if life’s on the line, you gonna have us play a fun game?

Casino owner: I have two glasses here. One’s tequila, the other’s poison.

Roger: So picking the poison means death.

Casino owner: Yes, that’s right. Since I’m a gentleman, I’ll let you choose first.

Jude: We ain’t stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trap—Huh? The hell you doin’?

Roger: What? Just choosing like he said. I chose a safe one. Now, how about you drink the poison.

~~ End flashback ~~

Roger couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he recalled the past.

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. He was shaking so much he couldn’t drink. What a masterpiece.

Jude: Back then, I didn’t take the bet ‘cause I knew it was a trap. Ya could tell by the color of the glasses that they were both poisoned.

Roger: … You’re always looking out for others. You love me, don’t you?

Jude: Keep your ego to yourself.

Roger: Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been experimenting on myself. Makes me immune to most drugs and poisons. You could say I’m borrowing my own life…Well, don’t think I’m gonna live as long as others.

Jude: Shortenin’ your own lifespan to save the Cursed. Haaa, hypocritical self-gratification*.

Roger: Would’ve made it more presentable if it was, but it’s not like I had a choice. It was hard to find Cursed Ones before I joined Crown. When I needed one to test on, I only had myself. That’s all. A former doctor should take care of himself. That’s why I started working out.

Jude: I couldn’t care less if ya lived or died. If ya wanted to live, ya wouldn’t be ‘ere. However.

Roger: But?

Jude: Ain’t that princes gonna cry or somethin’?

Roger: Huh?

Jude walked away from Roger and pushed the door open.

Jude: …Don’t forget that people feel a void when someone they care ‘bout passes.

Jude muttered something as he disappeared past the door.

Roger: …”I heard you”, Jude. …Thanks for the warning.

Even after Jude had left, I stayed still behind the curtain.

(...Roger’s borrowing from his own lifespan and doesn’t have much longer to live)

(No way…)

--

I couldn’t bring myself to face Roger when I was in this state…

I finally let out a breath after finding a place where I could be alone.

However, the chaos in my mind didn’t quiet down.

(...Oh yeah. There was something that didn’t feel right)

~~ Flashback ~~

It was back when we went undercover at that village led by the Spirit God where Roger synthesized a treatment for tetanus.

 Roger didn’t hesitate to take it himself to conduct a clinical trial.

He didn’t let Liam be the test subject.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...He had to have known the side-effects would’ve been minor, or else he wouldn’t have done it)

Like Jude said, a “safe and guaranteed tomorrow” is far beyond Roger’s consideration while living in the dark as Crown.

That’s something I understood the moment I became Fairytale Keeper.

(But, I wonder why…)

—Why did I think our days of laughing and bantering would last forever?

—Why did it feel like Roger would always be there with me?

(...I see. That’s why Roger gave me a final trial)

Roger was still human.

I definitely would’ve been hurt if I found out after we became lovers.

(That’s why—he’s waiting to the last moment to let go)

Kate: …

I was so grief-stricken that my legs gave out on the spot.

Ale: Arf arf.

Kate: Ale…why…

Ale came running over and propped his forepaws on my lap in worry.

Kate: Did you perhaps run after me?

I smiled as Ale looked at me with his large, round eyes.

Kate: …I see, thank you. Ale, did you know that Roger won’t live long?

Ale: Woof!

Kate: …I became aware of it just now. It’s cruel how Roger would leave us when we love him so much. Did he even intend to make me his lover…

Ale: Woof!

Kate: Hehe, is that a “YES” or a “NO”?

But, even if I didn’t understand Ale’s answer,

As he listened to me, my mind that was reeling from shock started to calm down.

(Huh…? It’s true that I’m feeling sad, but other than that)

(...For some reason…I’m getting really, really angry…)

Kate: If I knew this was going to happen…

I wish he left me alone

I wish he never pushed me around +4 +4

I wish he never did all those lewd things to me

Kate: I wish he never pushed me around, ugh! That self-centered egoist!

Ale: Woof?!

Kate: And yet…I let him do whatever he wanted. I told him I loved him, and now he wants to let me go!

(I can’t be apart from Roger anymore)

Kate: I will never let you do that, Roger Barel! 

Ale barked cheerfully as if to give encouragement when I stood up.

Ale: Arf arf arf!

Kate: I’ve become stronger and I’m not going to let this discourage me.

(It’s true that Roger might not live for much longer)

(But no one knows what the future has in store for us)

(Also, there’s a chance that being together can extend his lifespan, even if it’s just by a day.

(In order to do that…)

I’ll need to successfully avoid the “farewell” from Roger’s final trial.

Kate: Now that I’ve made my decision…let’s go, Ale!

--

Ale and I eagerly burst into Victor’s office.

Kate: Victor. The month we agreed on is almost up. So before it’s over, I’d like to make a request. That being—

And so, when Victor heard my “request”, he said—

Victor: Pfft, haha…You’ve really become tainted by evil. Okay, I am fully on board with your proposal.

Roger didn’t know about this conversation between Victor and me…

--

Back at the lab, we had finally made what we were striving for.

Roger: …The antidote’s complete.

Kate: You did it, Roger!

Roger: Yeah, you were a great help. Thanks, Kate.

We smiled at each other, feeling happy and satisfied that the antidote was complete.

But then my smile fade…at the thought of what we were about to do.

(From this moment—)

“Condemnation” begins.

--

To start…

The doctors and Privy council that Victor and William had locked up were now gathered in a room in the palace.

They were all handcuffed, but like the rumors said, the poison had affected their central nervous system, making them all groan and pants like beasts.

(...They’re suffering)

Roger: …

Roger silently looked down at the kneeling criminals who were unable to stand.

Listening to the heavy breathing of the people poisoned was unbearable.

But there was no room for mercy given what they’ve done.

Privy Council Lord: …Haaa…Ugh…Did you call us here…to mock us?

Royal Hospital doctor: …Haaa…help us…

Roger: We went through the trouble of getting you out of jail. Kate.

Kate: Right. Do you know what’s in these test tubes?

I pulled a test tube out of the tray and held it in front of them.

Kate: …This is an antidote that Roger made.

Privy Council Lord: I-it’s…real!

Roger: Yeah, and the efficacy’s been tested. You’ll feel relief within 30 minutes of taking it.

Privy Council Lord: Haa…hurry up and hand it over!

They couldn’t even stand, and no matter how far they stretched their hands out, they couldn’t reach us.

Roger: Who said I’d just give it you you?

Pricy Council Lord: …What…did you say…?

Roger: Privy Council. You lot stole my life’s worth of research materials by threatening an unrelated party. And you doctors from Gracefield Royal Hospital. You hired funeral directors to kill people for research specimens. There’s a whole bunch of other crimes that keep turning up.

Privy Council Lord: …We

Roger: “We haven’t committed any crimes.” “We, the Privy Council gain Her Majesty’s favor and bring prosperity to Britain.” “We doctors will advance medicine in Britain with our experiments.”

…Is that what you wanted to say?

It appeared that everything Roger said in their place was correct. They looked at us with eyes full of hatred.

Roger ignored them and continued.

Roger: Those are some fine ambitions, and we wouldn’t be able to thank you enough. …However I’ll never forgive anyone who uses their ambitions to justify devaluing human life.

Roger: Kate.

Kate: On it, Roger.

I raised the tray of test tubes with the medicine.

Privy Council Lord: Y-you can’t possibly be…

Royal Hospital doctor: D-don’t…!

They screamed—I slammed the tray down as hard as I could.

The test tubes shattered, glass and liquid spread everywhere on the floor.

Royal Hospital doctor: Ahh…

Privy Council Lord: What did you do…

Their faces turned pale and they tried to sip the antidote from off the floor, but the liquid had already soaked into the carpet and there was nothing they could do about it.

Roger: Die a miserable death. That’s the only kind that suits you wretches. 

That sort of “despair” suited them.

But then—

Roger: …Just kidding.

Next

-

*Here, Jude says オナニープレイ (onani play). Onanism means the pull-out method, but is also now synonymous with (male) masturbation

[royal-chandler]

💋 & firstprince for Ficlet Friday please! (And happy Valentine's day from a fellow singleton, enjoy your wine, its hot chocolate for me as I'm working 😂)

I'm now free from work and free to do as I please. Thanks for the ask, lovely! Hope it's to your liking!

--

“Uh, what are we doing?” Alex asks, the words and his mouth slowly skipping against Henry’s lips.

“Well we were baking single-as-shit brownies until you kissed me,” Henry tells him. His eyes that had been previously heavy-lidded with the evening's wine are now round with surprise. And fuck, Henry always goes on about how Alex’s lashes are ridiculous but has Henry even seen his own under a kitchen light at two in the morning, framing a bright riot of dark gold and green. 

Alex is torn between telling Henry just so and correcting him.

True to himself and their brand, he chooses the latter.

“Yeah, no.” Backed up against the corner where Henry bossily put him, he grins. “You kissed me, sweetheart.”

“Excuse me. I did no such thing. You came into my whisking space and insisted on dipping your stupid fingers into my bowl of batter.”

“I was taste testing!”

Henry laughs, color in his high cheeks. “Funny method that, using it to paint my mouth.”

“That’s because you called my fingers stupid. Twice now, by the way.”

“They are stupid,” Henry insists. He sputters out, “They’re stupid and—and egregiously long and your hands are huge—like paws. For what reason?”

“How about the fact that you leaned into me?”

“You’ll notice that your hands are still situated on my waist, Alex. That’s far more damning.”

“Well since you’re so aggravated about their size, maybe I should just—”

With a bite into his bottom lip, Henry’s response catches Alex’s hands before they can abandon him. He shakes his head. “No. Don’t.”

Soft for him and with intent bared, Alex closes the distance between them and wraps Henry up. He nudges Henry’s nose with his own, nuzzles the soft and warm skin just to the side of it. Eyes slid shut, Alex breathes him in for a sweet moment and then asks, “Wanna call it a draw?”

“Guess that’d be alright,” Henry murmurs, conspiring. He scrunches his expression, eyes crinkling. “Just this once.”

“To be absolutely clear,” Alex says, near and low, head dipping. Past curiosity, he then tongues away a swipe of wet fudge cake from where’d he left it, the ticked up corner of Henry’s mouth. 

Henry smiles bigger, gives up more of himself for Alex to taste. It’s delightful and gets Alex’s heart swelling even with the curse attached. “Oh fuck you.”

“Make up your mind, Fox. First, you don’t want to admit to kissing me and now—”

The kiss Alex is given is born with a noise of frustration—ugh, you’re the worst, why do I even—and Henry’s touch possessive around his jaw and neck, palms sticky with god knows what, he’s so fucking awful in a kitchen that’s thoroughly equipped with the best gadgets on the market. Alex may be at risk of salmonella and is definitely going to have to scrub his hair with shampoo and a hot spray before bed but it’s well worth it. Because yes, Henry is awful at everything in the kitchen but this.

He’s endearingly eager, pushy and perfect. Same as he always is. Gasping out of a kiss before diving right back in, his mouth is full of sweets and dirty things. It’s with a raspy hint of teeth and Henry's thumb pressed to the back of Alex’s ear that another kiss weaves greedily. 

The oven beeps, ready for a tray to be slipped in but they pay it no mind, caught up in a wordless agreement to keep going, to try at forever.

fin

[the-mandawhor1an]

6 months later...

TLDR: it's Zaddy's and my RP 'anniversary'; artworks; Wolke being emotional about her Tumblr experience; and a fluffy one shot/drabble at the end of the WAY TOO LONG POST

I've alluded to it before, I've commissioned some artwork of the two lovebirbs and they just so happened to get finished this week. Huge thanks to @kenobiwanx for making the two come alive 😭 I can NOT stop staring at them.

LOOK AT THEM 😭😭😭

Yes these are spoilers for upcoming events but I just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

@zaddymandalorian Überraschung!

Back to the actual point *wipes tears off her face*

Let's set the scene...

My dearest Zaddy and I reconnected in November of 2023 as I had been on a work trip at that time and I needed someone to talk to. We'd been talking on and off for the last months, mostly smalltalk and sometimes me complaining about stuff. Worth mentioning is also that I sent her my Maia fanfic back in June. First person to read it besides myself. I've known Zaddy since spring of 2016 ish (which also means I've known her longer than my husband – fun fact) so I felt comfortable with her reading my extremely self-indulgent shit. Everyone needs friends like that ♥

We mused about the roleplays we lost to forum admins being ruthless in their inactive-thread-deletion efforts every 4 months. We had barely started a Witcher RP and I'm sure it would've been awesome if we had continued. We literally stopped 7 ish posts in so nothing had happened really. – Why was it inactive? Well I took a 14 month roleplay hiatus due to me being chronically fatigued. The joys of working a stressful job and being severly anemic. Oops.

I tested the waters and made an offhand comment about maybe giving in and asking her to plot something with me.

This is a very convincing re-enactment of what happened: (translated because we're German potaters)

Well... and that's when the fun began

I, being a total Pedro fangirlie, asked if we wanted to just take the synopsis of my fic and run with that. She agreed, I was happy, she was happy.

So it's been 6 months.

OH. MY. GOD.

I did not think I had it in me to be consistently posting daily for 6 months. We've laughed, we've cried, we've lost sleep over it. We've grinned into our phone screens like maniacs at work and luckily no one asked

And now, 260k words later, I'm still in love with the babies. In fact I'd say I love the little blorbs even more now. Maia has a face, she has outfits (multiple!) she has a family and a story (that's only about 1/3 written so whew we might make it to a million)

Of course I also love Zaddy very much (and I will keep lovebombing your ass, bitch 🖤💜)

You know what, fuck it, I'm mentioning more people. Buckle up! Wolke spreads some love!

@immarocketman for being the first person on Tumblr that I kind of clicked with because we share a love for Pedro and the color purple 💜

@roughdaysandart for 1) allowing me insight in her creative process making a Fanfic comic and b) doodling Maia basically as soon as she made an appearance in text form 💜

The moots: @thefrogdalorian @djarins-cyare @djarins-wife @pedroswife69 for interacting with me, commenting on my posts and being real cute in general 💜

Everyone that ever interacted with me on here has been nothing but friendly, I feel extremely welcome over here. Everyone who liked/reblogged or commented on my posts, thank you so much. 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Now that the sappy whining is over, who wants to read something actually interesting?

In spirit of me being overbearingly loving, I've typed up a bit of fluff from the lovesick fools™ of Clan Mudhorn. Unbeta'd.

It was early in the morning, the sun barely over the horizon and engulfing the room in warm orange light, when Din awoke, a soft and warm body nestled into his side. She let out the softest little hum when he buried his face in her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close.

"Sleep," he purred into her hair, placing a kiss on her forehead when her face turned towards him. Again, with a quiet hum, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "How am I supposed to sleep when my husband has his hands all over me?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized and gently stroked her hair. "Why are you awake anyway?" she asked, finally raising her head so her sleepy, green eyes looked into his. "Hey mesh'la," he greeted her with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I don't know. I guess the sun woke me up, it's too bright in here." He sighed. "I miss the hut on Nevarro, it was always dark in there." "Come on, it's not that bad here. We needed more space anyway."

She pulled away from him, rolling over so she was on her stomach, hugging the pillow underneath her to get a better look at her everything. "Is the sun too strong, my warrior king?" a grin crept onto her lips as her eyes blinked slowly. Clearly this was way too early for her liking. To be fair, last night went on for longer than anticipated. "Are the little troublemakers awake yet?" She raised her head and turned to face the door. For now it seemed peaceful and quiet in the adjacent rooms.

Knowing well she would rise from the bed to check if he didn't stop her, Din hoisted himself over her body, practically pressing her into the mattress with his body weight. "You're not getting up to check on the kids now, cyar'ika," he muttered, peppering kisses along her shoulder. A chuckle escaped her lips as she rotated her head so she could see him in her peripheral.

She was so glad the mattress was soft enough to just give in under the weight, forming a perfectly human-shaped dent to make way for her body. "Whatever you say, great Mand'alor." For just a second she could feel him grind his pelvis into her butt.

He kept on pressing kisses on her neck, her shoulders, slowly crawling down her spine, kissing every little scar he found on his descent. "You really have to stop saying it like that." "Like what?" "With the bedroom-voice." He stopped to crawl back up to her head and leaned forward, giving her the chance to look into his face. His eyes were darkened, one of his eyebrows twitching upward.

"You're insatiable," she laughed, shaking her head. He slowly lifted off of her, immediately wrapped both arms around her and pulled her onto his chest. "That's your fault, my love." His voice was warm and silky, the vibration in his chest making her shudder. "My fault?" "You're just too beautiful so I can't keep my eyes or my hands off of you for long." "Di'kut" "Gar di'kut, forever." "Forever is a long time," she said softly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"And I'll be happy to spend every minute with you. I love you so much" he took her hand in his and softly kissed her knuckles. She sighed and watched him kiss every finger, eyeing her intently. She was mesmerized by his eyes, almost hypnotized by the dark brown, with the orange light surrounding them it reminded her of embers, glowing and warm.

Forever was a long time and although it didn't feel like it, time was progressing, evident by the threads of silver that sparkled in his dark brown curls. And although she felt like she herself was showing signs of ageing, he always told her she was as beautiful as the day he met her. "I love you more, mesh'la," she replied and rested her hand on his cheek.

"You and the kids are everything to me. I would die for you," he mused, closing his eyes as her finger brushed over his beard toward his lips. Her movements halted and the dark brown eyes reopened, scanning her features for signs of her sudden stop. The small crease on her forehead was enough for him to know exactly what was troubling her.

"Look at me," he pleaded with her, cupping her cheek in one of his hands now. "I know that look on your face. I would doesn't mean I will. Stop thinking about it. I'm here and so are you." Her hand slowly retreated to rest atop of his, thumb brushing over his warm and tanned skin. "Thanks to you, I am. You've saved my life once, I hope you don't have to do it a second time." She smiled warmly and nestled her face further into his hand.

Din grumbled and pulled her face closer, peppering it with kisses wherever he could reach. "I've saved your life twice. But it doesn't matter, you've given me more than I could ever imagine. I have a family now. And the most amazing wife in the galaxy." "I love you." "Until the end of space and time."

Both flinched when they heard a noise outside the bedroom. Instantly both heads were turned to the door, listening for more noises. One of the kids must've woken up, maybe their voices were too loud.

"Any guesses?" Din asked his wife, once again burying his face in her hair. "My gut tells me it's your mini-version," she suapected, turning her head to kiss him gently. "Your gut? Or your Jedi magic?"

Din rose from the bed, stretching his muscles in the morning sun, stared at by his better half. "And you say I'm insatiable." A sly grin appeared on his lips as he put on a shirt, his shoulders and bicep stretching the fabric just enough to make her hum. "The faster you check on the troublemakers the sooner you can come back to bed. Hurry, I'm not done with you."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

Translations:

mesh'la - beautiful

cyar'ika - darling

di'kut - idiot

gar di'kut - your idiot

[mentalknot]

Mathematical Memories #1:

TW: Mental Health Topics

During the spring semester of my freshman year at college, I was hospitalized for a mental health emergency, and let me tell you... the worst part was easily the lack of chalkboards in the facility.

Questionable jokes aside, a conversation with a couple friends today reminded me of a brief memory from stay:

As I sat at the small table, trying my best to comprehend the printout of an academic paper my mentor had given me to review at the start of our project, when one of the other patients called over to me,

"Hey math girl, can you explain the Good Will Hunting problem?"

I was quite rusty on the specifics of the film, and also knew better than to claim understanding of what could possibly be a problem on par with some millennium problems (given my vague understanding of the math Hollywood finds interesting). Nonetheless, I told him to find the movie, and I'd try my best.

The rest of the patients gathered around as the man who asked the question, Alan, located the film, and paused the screen so I could see what was written on the chalkboard in one of those early few scenes... graph theory, thank god. The first few questions were as follow:

Find the adjacency matrix A of the graph (the graph had four vertices, not horrible)

Find the matrix giving the number of three-step walks (also not terrible, but ramping up)

Find the generating function for walks from point i to point j. (getting more interesting...)

Find the generating function for walks from point 1 to 3. (similar to the previous question... probably worse)

Although I knew about the core pieces of the questions from my recent combinatorics course, I knew better than to test my chances on 3 and 4. Still, there were people staring at me eager to learn math, and I couldn't disappoint them.

"Have any of you taken a course in graph theory -- networks maybe? No experience needed, just gaging the room..."

Silence. I grabbed a piece of paper and a colored pencil to begin regardless.

"Ok, let's start with the basics: a graph is a mathematical structure built from vertices and edges. Vertices are these 'dots' or 'points' I'm drawing here, and edges are the 'lines' connecting them. If two vertices, say A and B, are connected by an edge, it shows some sort of 'relationship' between A and B."

I scribbled a quick simple graph on the page, and with the group nodding in agreement, moved on to multigraphs, explained that an adjacency matrix is one tool we can use to understand whether any of our vertices share an edge or not, and finally I threw in trees for fun.

Trees got them. They loved trees. Walter, who was a college freshman as well, inquired

"Is there such thing as an 'infinite' tree, like one with infinitely many leaves?"

I'd never thought about such a thing before, but saw no reason why such a graph couldn't exist... and imagined that 'spreading the leaves out evenly' would yield a depiction that looked somewhat like a circle... only one way to check.

We ran over to the communal tablet and started looking up "infinite trees, graph theory" much to the amusement of the nurses on duty for the evening. We never found an image that exactly matched what we head in our minds, but discovered enough to convince us that the idea wasn't baseless. The rest of the group had since dispersed, and Walter and I soon did the same to prepare for sleep.

Reflecting back on that day, I can't help but wonder... what is it about early career mathematicians getting fixated on wacky graph theory ideas?

referencing no personal experience of course...