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oflgtfol · 2 years

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I feel like people in the astronomy program are so much more laid back than the physics program plus the gender imbalance isnt quite as intense. now that im taking basically all my physics minor courses in one semester, im in upper level courses that pretty much ONLY physics majors are taking, and the entire vibe is so… different …

which is. maybe also why im doubting whether im cut out for academia. because these people are so fucking competitive and just. idk. idk how to explain it

so obviously i have a deep passion and love for science and especially astronomy. to the point where it spills beyond my academic life and into my personal life, to where i gush about it in my free time on my personal blog, to where most of my hobbies and interests are at least tangentially related to it, etc. i am always down to talk about astronomy. BUT I STILL HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OF IT!!! when i hang out w friends i met in my classes we talk about things other than academics! we have actual fun!!

but these guys in these physics courses. all they fucking talk about is physics. and not in an awkward nerd way. it just comes across as weirdly like… idk. superior? like theyre trying to sound smart and better than you. like every single conversation is a test of your knowledge. it really takes away from the sense of camaraderie that i enjoy in academic settings and it turns even just basic casual conversation into a competition. add on the fact that theres like, four women in these classes, of which i am one of them, in a class of total like 25 people, it’s just. it creates such an unwelcoming atmosphere

and i just. in previous years i saw the gender imbalance statistics and i was filled with spite to do my small little part to go against it. but this past year has been hell for me mentally. i literally havent felt a single emotion beyond like, all encompassing defeat and exhaustion, so i frankly just cannot gather the will to even feel spite at all, nevermind enough to be my sole motivator for continuing on. and i know grad school must only get worse with this stuff. and i mean yeah as i said, astronomy is a lot better, not so much with the gender ratio (the ratio is slightly better), but the overall attitude is so much more lighter. but again like i just. i know grad school is super competitive i dont even know if i can handle that nevermind the workload of school itself. nevermind the overall work culture of that kind of competition

its still my absolute dream to spend the rest of my life doing formal astro research but with the current state of things its just. i dotn know if im cut out for it with all this, nevermind the fucking financials of it, like i hate competition i just want to do a job and contribute to the field, but in order to make money to survive at all i need to fight tooth and nail for grants and its just. its exhausting. is that really how i wanna spend the rest of my life. Why must these things exist why cant i just do research

#its such a small field everything is so much!!! the barrier of entry is so high #idk ive been thinking this for a while especially w my new classes #and today in my electronics lab it just reached a breaking point #i heard the guys behind me talking and its just like. we r on totally different wavelengths here .#i heard the one guy say that science shouldnt be conducted just for knowledge like there needs to be practical applications #and i felt so . ???#like what kind of scientist are you rhat you arent motivated by knowledge for knowledge’s sake #like we are entirely different people #is that the difference between phsyics and astronomy ?#as fields i mean.#anywwy so yeah ive beennhaving a crisis. (:#are there any public science communication jobs i can take cuz thats what i find myself really enjoying #i just want a steady job with steady money that i can survive on my own with holy FUCK #brot posts

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world-prayers · 8 months

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Self-improvement Angels: This Is How To Improve Your Life

Self-improvement angels can assist you with everything from losing weight to breaking bad habits to developing your social abilities. Are you ready to be the best you that you can be? Your life will be much more fulfilling when you allow an angel to help you achieve your personal development goals. Continue reading Untitled

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keepthedelta · 3 months

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manifesting chaos in the 2024 f1 season

nico hulkenberg finally slays his white whale and drags the haas flintstones car onto the podium only for the car to be disqualified for a technical breach

in the spirit of their ancestors alpine attemps crashgate 2.0 only they’re so shit they fail even at that. everyone knows what they tried to do but because they failed the fia turns a blind eye out of pity

jenson button misses a dose of xanax before presenting alongside danica patrick and finally tells her to shut up on live television

lando finally wins a race and is so delighted that he won’t let go of his trophy, even to attend the traditional english stag do of some rich dickhead he went to school with. lando passes out three sambucas into the night at which point his trophy is stolen and all of his facial hair (including eyebrows) is shaved off. the fia charges him for the replacement

king charles dies just before silverstone and george drives his car directly into the barriers out of respect

sharl breaks up with whatever brunette clone he’s dating in order to focus more on racing. two weeks later he releases a classical piano track about heartbreak and longing and confirms that it’s about the sf-24. three days after that he confirms his relationship with a woman who is practically identical to the previous girlfriend (possibly her sister, possibly just a clone)

john elkann goes full fatal attraction on lewis and shows up in his house in a silk robe, with a trail of rose petals that he’s had ethically dyed purple just for lewis

babygate hits f1 again as carlos is rumoured to be expecting another baby. he insists that it is not him as he is still a virgin

fernando alonso announces that he has found religion. three months later he submits planning permission to add a sculpture to the outside of oviedo’s cathedral of the holy saviour which is in turn renamed the cathedral of the holy saviour, san fernando

a williams sponsor pulls out so to make up the shortfall james vowles voices the audiobooks of several erotic novels

#formula 1 #2024 f1 season #feel free to add your own chaos manifestations #chaos manifestation 2024

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allweknowisnow · 1 year

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Oh. My. God. Iam. such a sucker for sensual boys I-

#red lights by stray kids #and txts good boy gone bad are what I had in mind for this one #especially the gbgb mama and mma performances bc. holy fuck #or more like holy hell #also the taste performance like HELLO???!?!?@?!?!wtfwtfwtf #yea uhm 991 we have an emergency apparently i like racy stuff i guess #i suppose #no but genuinely and unironically #all jokes and shameless thirsting/simping aside #i think these types of songs and concepts are genuinely helping me explore my sexuality andgender #its breaking a barrier that i did not know was there in the firsf place #and its been dialed up by a thousand since i now have a real life crush on someo e #who might actually have potential to be my first love #and lover #i think i might actually possibly stand a chance with them for #missramblesinthetagsagain #sorry this was so long i just had something awakened deep inside me #consider this the confession booth of my secret desires i suppose #and keep it to yourself

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

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Queue me sprinting to the inbox when I got the notice that your inbox was open! First off, congrats on 5k! Ok now business: can I request something along the lines of Ghost realizing he’s become attached his partner (maybe the reader is the same rank or a sniper or something where they’ve known each other a while) but it’s a situation where it’s a harsh realization. Like it was the one time they didn’t go on a mission together and the reader got hurt real bad (like Ghost only found out because he happened to be on the tarmac when the reader’s body was being carried out of a helicopter by medics) and that’s how he realizes he loves the reader. Because it hits him like a ton of bricks that he might loose them and just breaks down but it ends with him being by the reader’s side and confessing in his own way when they wake up

—Blood Like Obsidian

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

He doesn’t recall how he felt the moment he spotted your body being dragged out of that Helo, arm limp over the shoulder of one of the men in your unit. He doesn’t even remember what Soap was talking to him about on the tarmac.

Because at that instance, the entire world seemed to stop in one horrible moment of mute panic and brown, wide eyes.

Simon watched for a moment in shock, seeing your limp form as the soldier carrying you screamed out for a medic, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the on-base hospital; jostling you. Soap finally looks over.

“Holy hell,” the Scot breathes, head pulling back.

Simon’s already sprinting.

“Give her to me,” he growls to the soldier, who looks up at him in shock as he appears like an apparition.

“S-sir, I—”

“Fucking hand her over!” Simon orders, eye flashing, his accent already making the aggressive voice even more so as he spits from behind his mask.

The man immediately presents your unconscious form, blood so saturated into your gear that the black looks like obsidian; shiny like that natural glass formed after lava cools. There’s a damn hole in your chest.

Taking you up easily, your dead weight makes his chest tighten, a sharp inhale sounding off from Simon before he grits his teeth and holds you tighter.

The Lieutenant grunts and takes off, feet slamming into the ground. He glances down at you in rapid intervals, gazing at your expressionless face for long seconds before it snaps back up to the road ahead—it’s no more than a few seconds before Simon slams his shoulder into a door.

The barrier hits the far wall and nurses all look up in momentary fear.

“Help her!” He sounds desperate, and his hands dig into you harshly. If you’d been awake, you’d be telling him to let go before you developed marks. The nurses are still paused at the sudden appearance of the monster-ish man in black and gray. Simon barks like a dog, stepping closer. “Fuckin’ hell, are you bastards bloody deaf?!”

The others dash forward and tell him to place you on one of the rolling beds, and he does so without another word; heart so violently beating in his chest that he’s panting, breath loud in his own head.

The nurses are calling to one another, yelling to grab an available doctor and get you into surgery, beginning to wheel you away. Simon jogs along, eyes not leaving your face but ever silent with his hands clenched.

He hadn’t given much thought to how he felt about you—nothing was ever going to come of it. Years of missions and companionship with you. You, the ever-present bit of light that had stayed longer than all others.

You, the only woman he would ever love.

The realization makes Simon’s legs nearly lock from under him, stumbling for a moment as one nurse peels back your vest and takes a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric over the mess of torn flesh and spitting veins.

You leave droplets of blood behind you, trailing off the limp hand that points to the floor from over the edge of the bed.

Simon grabs at it and brings the hand to your chest, and he notices his own fingers shaking as he desperately moves his eyes up and down your body. He can’t even look at the wound—large, deadly. You jerk around with every movement as if you're already dead.

The Lieutenant feels his eyes burn with stark betrayal but barely pays attention.

As they’re pushing you into a pair of double doors, Simon remembers he was supposed to be with you during this mission, but had been reassigned last minute. The thought is so sudden he nearly forgets to ask where they’re bringing you. But the man recovers quickly.

“Oi!” He shouts, arms pushing him back from the door. Half of the nurses are telling him he needs to leave. He growls and jerks away from them, eyes flashing dangerously but always darting back to the door as it sways back and forth.

But he knows why he’s out here—and the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t know how to operate on someone no matter how much he did.

He steps back and the rest of the nurses disappear back into your room.

Simon puts a hand on the back of his head, gripping tightly at the fabric of his covering as he fears his teeth might break from how hard he’s clenching his jaw—grinding them across one another like a cheese grater.

He loved you. Oh, God, he loved you.

And he wasn’t there.

Turning away from the door, Simon paces the hallways until Soap re-joins him, any attempt the Sergeant makes at conversation is immediately slashed down ruthlessly. Simon’s shoulders widen; eyes grow more dead the longer you’re gone from his sight.

It’s five hours until there’s any word, and when there is, the Lieutenant is alone again—his leg jumping along the floor and his hands held in a single fist under his nose; elbows on knees.

When he’s able to see you—stable but the future still uncertain, he sleeps there.

Simon sleeps on the floor beside your hospital bed for two days straight, and the nurses are too afraid to tell him he can’t do that. So they don’t tell him at all.

On day three, the man has only left the room to go to the bathroom; no food, no showers, or new clothes. He’d gone through worse, what was hunger? What was the small uncomfortableness in his chest? Nothing. It was nothing.

During the day he watches your face, standing or sitting doesn’t matter. The nurses come and go, the doctor too, and he lets them work silently. Simon doesn’t speak to them.

But he does speak to you.

And on day four, he plays with your fingers with a single hand, taking the flesh and watching it move. Feeling your pulse.

The Lieutenant grunts.

“Should’ve been there,” he hisses to himself harshly. “Should ‘ave never let you bloody go alone, yeah? Been by my side for ages.” Simon scoffs, glaring at the bedsheets. “My fuckin’ fault you’re ‘ere. No one can watch your back better, should’ve known that.” He misses the small twitch in your hand, too self-absorbed with his faults.

Simon was never one for airing his grievances; the man was a master at suffering in the quiet nights. But this was a special case.

Your finger twitches again.

“...Shouldn’t say stuff like that,” your words slur, and Simon’s head snaps up; heart lurching. He goes silent.

Your eyes are only half-open, body heavy. You’ll be going back to sleep in mere moments, but you’d been awake long enough to understand what was going on. Simon watches, but his hand slips into yours. Grasping tightly.

An unknown weight is taken from him at the twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“Care about you too, Big Guy.”

He won’t tell you he loves you—he’s not that kind of person. He won’t explain the panic or the fear. Terror, really.

But he’ll slip off his mask and let you see him, his thumb running the length of your knuckles. He’ll sigh and those browns will give way to the rare expressions he shows so few.

He’ll let his head bend down to rest on your thigh as you fall back to sleep. Simon’s hand still holding yours.

You know.

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@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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puppetmaster13u · 4 months

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Prompt 181

“Hey. Hey Tuck. Tucker. Tuck look. Look.”

Tucker looked over the edge of the screen lazily, the half interested words on his tongue dying as he let out a wheeze of laughter. “Oh my Ancient Sands, dude, how did you manage that?”

Danny had, for the last near year, been trying to mix shapeshifting, thank you Amorpho, with duplication. Something he’d apparently succeeded in today, if the massive fuck-you hydra standing before him was any indication. The very pleased looking, well did it count as a hydra if it had wings too?

“You need to show Sam. Oh my Sands we need to show Val too. And Wes. You did it dude!” He floated up to look at Danny, who did a little twirl to show off. He shook his head, flecks of gold and sand falling from his hair as he laughed.

“Do you think,” Danny lost it in laughter as several other heads echoed his words, from whichever the main him was. “Holy ancients that’s great- do, do you think we can make a dragon club? Hydras are totally dragons right? Do you think we could pull a Tiamat?”

He landed on a head, taking a selfie to add to the groupchat labeled Preparations. “Dude, we should, but let me send this to the others first… But I am so down.”

They can, in fact apparently, pull a Tiamat- with a little help from Princess Dora, practice in front of Frostbite in case something goes wrong, and some advice from Pandora on controlling extra limbs. Honestly, who is going to want to mess with Amity when there’s a giant dragon? And hey, maybe they can break the barrier now!

The heads for those wondering who I was thinking of for each lol And perhaps what they might all get ((1) Kwan, Pressurized Water) ((2) Wes, Sonic Blast) ((3) Sam, Poison Gas) ((4) Star, Plasma) ((5) Danny, Ice Breath) ((6) Paulina, Acid) ((7) Tucker, Electricity) ((8) Valerie, Fire Breath) ((9) Dash, Pressurized Wind)

#Prompts #The Class Pulls a Tiamat #They’re all adults and graduated #But can’t exactly go anywhere thanks to the shield/barrier around the town #The whole town is now liminal as hell thx to the ecto having nowhere to disperse #Bounced back from the shield back into the city from the portal #Dcxdp #Dpxdc #Dp x Marvel #Whichever works for u #Amity is under an info blackout thanks to the barrier #They have no idea what’s happening outside #Hey if they can’t break the barrier themselves they’ll just combine their might together #Liminal Amity Park #The group when they succeed in becoming dragon: We are Death Destroyer of Worlds #The GIW panic and call heroes in when a Very Big THING not only approaches the ghost shield #but actually looks like it might get through #The rest of Amity might pull a Become Dragon too but honestly up to yall #Amity: Ghosts are illegal but dragons aren't!

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ghouljams · 1 year

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Another little Cowboy!Ghost thing.

You think the problem with Simon is that he thinks he’s fucking hilarious. Which is a problem because you don’t think anyone else can tell when he’s joking. The other problem is that he’s actually the worst.

It’s the way he strides up to your table at the bar, eyes fixed on you, and stops the conversation dead. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos on full display, and the way his jeans cling to his thick, powerful, thighs... You’re already pleasantly warm and tingly from the alcohol, he is the last person you need to see right now.

“Holy Shit.” One of your friends, just on the right side of drunk, says staring up at Simon. The rest of your group seems to share the sentiment. All eyes all over him as Simon tips his head forward in greeting. When you’d asked your dad for a ride home from the bar you’d hoped he would actually come and pick you up. Your mistake for forgetting he turns in early and enjoys delegating.

“What the fuck are they feeding you at that ranch?” Another of your friends asks, oogling his biceps as Simon crosses his arms over his chest.

“Pussy.” Simon deadpans without missing a beat. Suddenly all of your friends eyes dart to his belt and then to you. You think you might actually catch on fire with how hot you blush.

“How about we all stop talking now.“ You hiss through grit teeth, grabbing your bag fast enough to break the sound barrier and pushing at Simon to get him (and you) the hell out of the bar.

“Nice to meet you ladies,” He calls over his shoulder, earning a chorus of dreamy ‘bye Simon’s in return.

#cowboy!Ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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An angel and a demon walk into a bar.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.

He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.

A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.

Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.

The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.

Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.

An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.

Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.

His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.

"What do you want?"

Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.

"I want to apologise."

"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."

Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.

Forget-me-nots.

They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.

Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.

"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.

"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.

Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.

Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head.

The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.

Apologies instead of I'm coming back.

A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.

Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.

For this.

An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #emptying out my tumblr drafts which are usually full of posts that weren't worth posting #but this one was actually fun to finish #sorry no more fluff back to the angst #this is 700 words long my god i have issues #one short tumblr post and i end up with a fic #anyway #shoutout to the people that get the bojack horseman reference

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smallgodseries · 2 months

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Some people say he can’t exist, or, when confronted with the reality of his presence—and remember that even a small god is still a god, better not provoked with statements such as “you’re a shit divinity, aren’t you?” or “you don’t exist, you can’t possibly be real”—that his believers are misguided about their own existence. He doesn’t take kindly to any of these things, but his ability to take revenge is limited by the shape and scope of his portfolio, which he loves too wildly and too well to ever set aside, even for the sake of blackening a few eyes.

Blitzkrieg Bob is the patron and god of suburban punks and mall goths, frustrated teens seeking something to rebel against and grown adults finding themselves in new subcultures well past the age when they’d been written off as unremarkable, serene. He guides the hands that select the bottle of Manic Panic and the shears, and if he doesn’t always guarantee those things are paid for, well. He’s happy to stick it to any Man available, even the ones who can’t afford another injury.

(Penny Ante, small god of local businesses and community support, wishes he would enforce certain commandments more strictly on his followers. He understands her concern—some of hers are also some of his, or were once, or will be eventually—but punk is about breaking rules, and the more rules he sets before his faithful, the more they will rebel.)

He doesn’t care if their nail polish is blotchy or their music is secondhand or their stompy boots aren’t quite fitted to their feet. He cares about their hearts, and the passion he finds sleeping there. Punk and goth are their combinations are sacred things, and he allows no gatekeepers, no barriers between his faithful and his word and their holy, hurting hearts.

#small gods #smallgodseries #icons and stories #seanan mcguire #lee moyer

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hannie-dul-set · 6 months

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PATIENCE, PATIENCE.

p — SIM JAEYUN x gn! reader. g — humor, fluff. w — swearing, making out, secondhand embarrassment aka the hannie-dul-set fic triumvirate + a good amount of public indecency. 1.5k words.

requested by — anon: cocky jock (who loses that cockiness around you) x reserved student librarian (who loses that cool because of him).

note — loosely inspired by a moment from the manhwa "unstoppable hayoung" ifykyk. in a prev fic i alluded beomgyu to a mosquito, in this one jake to a pest. i think i'm seeing a pattern here.

a pest has been following you for quite some time now.

“sim jaeyun.”

his name falls icy off your tongue, prefacing it with a sharp inhale yet the man in question is unfazed. he’s trespassing the barrier that’s preventing you from socking him in the face: the front desk of the library where he’s decided to prop his arms over, leaning into the surface, smiling oh-so-handsomely at you as if you aren’t politely telling him to fuck off with your eyes alone.

then again. you don’t really expect him to understand social cues.

“for the dozenth time, please leave me alone.”

so you verbalize your intent instead.

“i can’t do that, baby,” he replies. “not until you agree to go out with me.”

you suck in a deep huff of air, close your eyes, and dig your fingers into your thighs to ward away the distress.

“just one date. please?” he prods, nudging himself closer over the desk as if the scrawls of paper you’re trying to organize aren’t as important as his incessant badgering. “are you really going to keep saying no to this face?” the face in mention looks particularly punch-able right now. you’ve always taken pride in yourself for being a very patient, patient individual. jake sim from philosophy 102 is testing that patience.

“the library is for reading,” you say through gritted teeth. patience, patience, patience. you’re a daffodil on a breezy field, a piece of driftwood on a steady river. you will not fight a man in your workplace. you will keep your job and maintain inner peace.

“i am reading,” he argues. “i’m trying to read your mind because i don’t get why you don’t want to go out with me.”

holy crap. he’s insufferable.

“i’ve already told you dozens of times, jake.” now, you don’t know a thing or two about the ball sport he does, but that pink varsity jacket is starting to look abhorrent. it’s being shoved into your face the more he tries to throw himself over your desk. a bright jarring color, unsafe for the eyes. “i don’t want to go out with you. also, i’d appreciate if you stop ruining my work.”

one of the documents got wrinkled under his elbow. his mouth opens, “oh, sorry!” and he quickly backs off, ironing the sheet with his palms. “but at least tell me why you don’t want to go out with me. you keep rejecting me with a blank face but i don’t know why.”

your upper lip twitches.

because this is all because of a dare, that’s fucking why.

no, even that aside, the way he keeps arrogantly trying to hit on you, expecting you to just accept it and go is grinding your gears. you’re calm. you’re usually calm. but something about this guy just pushes all your buttons in one go, makes you spew out bullshit you’d never dare yourself to say to anyone else.

“hey,” your rouse. “can you kiss me right now?”

two can play at that game, bitch.

it works. it works really well because jake is suddenly as pink as his jacket. well, you don’t blame him. the library isn’t safe from gross, hormonal activities, but those are usually done in between the shelves— not at the front desk near the entrance.

you’re mimicking his stance, leaned forward, arms crossed over the desk and all. “like— like a peck on the cheek?” he stutters.

“no. like tongue in mouth kissing me like a starved man and it’s your last meal on death row,” you clarify. it’s funny how you can see his brain circuits crashing in real time. serves him right. you let out a breath and stand up, seeing the clock tick closer to your break. you quickly gather your things and circle out from behind the desk, now in cross-armed disappointment next to your persistent pest. “this is why i don’t want to go out with you, jake. you don’t even have feelings for me. you’re doing this because your friends told you to, and i don’t—”

suddenly, you feel something soft on your lips.

suddenly, your knees are weak, your mind is fuzzy, and you’re exchanging spit with jake sim in the library lobby.

wait, you gasp into his mouth and he responds with a grunt. wait, your eyelids flutter, air knocked out of your chest that’s somehow now pressed against his because wait— this wasn’t supposed to go this way.

how dare he actually do what you told him to? how dare he give you the best damn kiss you’ll ever have in your life?

“what the fuck?” you breathe out in intermittent huffs, hands on his chest as you pull yourself back. jake’s hazy eyes are looking at you in a way that makes your brain jump in circles, coupled by the arm that he has looped around your lower back. he’s crazy. he’s fucking crazy. “why— why would you do that?!”

“you told me to kiss you!”

“and you did?!”

your eyes widen at the volume of your own voice, quickly slapping a hand over your swollen lips, but making noise is at the bottom of your library sins today. you see your supervisor’s attention on you from the corner of your eye, and your face flushes. “why would you go this far for a dare?” you say in a quieter voice, still manic, still frantic, and jake flinches hard when you jab a finger to his chest. “you’re nuts, you’re actually nuts, oh my god—”

“wait, what do you mean dare?” your finger seems to be hurting him because he grabs your wrist and brings your hand down. “a dare? a dare to do what?”

you seethe. “don’t play dumb with me, jake. overheard you and your little soccer friends last time—”

“it’s football—”

“i don’t care.” your voice is getting louder again. jake flinches once more. “the problem here is you keep asking me out to date you because your soccer friends are betting on who can bed the quiet library assistant first and— and i’m not going to play dumb just because you’re a good kisser. i’m angry and disgusted and—”

“do you mind continuing your argument outside?”

your mouth is hanging open, paused mid-speech. when you peer to your left, you see that your supervisor has teleported right next to you. oh, god. there goes your job. jake apologizes for the both of you and skews your frozen figure out the door. you’re screwed. your patience could handle six months at starbucks and three months babysitting three toddlers, but i cannot handle one sim jaeyun.

“so,” the perpetrator’s voice snaps you back to reality. you’re both now outside the library, and he’s looking at you with a smugness that begs a kick to the balls. “you think i kiss good.”

your face bitters. “is that your only takeaway from all that?”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i also got that you’re rightfully mad at me for something i have to clear up.”

here we go. you’re curious to see what excuses he’ll make, how many sorry’s he’ll impart, and if he’ll get down on his knees. jake. but his starting words aren’t what you’re hoping for. “there isn’t a bet,” he starts. “my teammates were just trying to tease me because i didn’t have the balls to ask you out. dumb, i know, but they were dumber because they were all like, ‘if you don’t make a move soon, we will, blah, blah, blah’ to provoke me so—”

jake is matching his varsity jacket again.

“long story short, i made them run fifteen laps and decided to get it over with by asking you out on a date.”

you’re brought back to the first instance jake had asked you out— it was in the lecture hall, right after class, and he was wearing the same pink jacket that at this point seems like his second skin. the color isn’t as jarring as you initially thought.

“but rejection didn’t feel nice. so i thought i’d try again.”

you narrow your eyes. “again, as in like, eight times?”

“you counted?” he muses. you are unamused. he clears his throat and continues. “you’re always so calm and collected, but your eyebrows would furrow and your face would scrunch up whenever i threw you the question. it’s cute. i got addicted. you can’t pin all the blame on me.”

you let his words simmer, and with each passing second of silence jake grows more nervous, fidgeting in wait. you decide to spare him the agony, letting out a deep and heavy sigh. “okay. you’re forgiven.”

it’s instantaneous how his face lights up. now, you’re the one flinching.

“nice! does that mean we’re dating now? can i kiss you again?”

“now hold on,” you stop him, mildly appalled, mostly flustered. “i said i forgive you. i never said we can start making out in a public area again.”

he bats his eyes at you. “in private then?”

you want to hit him. you want to hit him so bad. sim jaeyun is the pest that has been following you for quite some time now. you fear that at this point, there’s no getting rid of him now.

PATIENCE, PATIENCE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #sim jaeyun scenarios #jake sim scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x you #sim jaeyun x you #jake sim x you

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sherlockhomies-42 · 4 months

Text

Holy shit so like yeah the bug bit me and I spat out two chapters in one day...anyway here's chapter 2 enjoyyyyyyyyyyyyy

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Death has returned, Heaven is disturbed

Chapter 2

Almost all at once, a cold shiver ran through the denizen's of Hell and their Overlord's,

A kind of cold some of the haven't felt in ages; if ever in the millenia of afterlife they've lived.

Feeling a shiver run down his spine, the King of Hell sits up straight in his seat, putting the rubber duvk he was workingon down with shaking hands as he felt himself break out into a cold shivering sweat like he hadn't felt in eons.

Death has awoken

He shot up from his seat at his table, rubber ducks falling to the ground and squeaking as they land only further drives his senses into overdrive. His mind begins to race a million miles an hour thinking of many things until his mind crosses to his dear daughter.

If Death is awake here... What of his daughters immortal status? Her safety from the extermination?

What of his?

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

Death flapped her wings for what felt like forever until she began to get closer and closer to the ring of light, As she draws closer and closer she braces her mind for the slip thru the veil. 'Here comes chaos'

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

Meanwhile in Heaven

(Just for like a sec)

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A violent tremors shook thru the lowest level of Heaven closest to the barriers between the paradise and the hellish rings below.

Panicked angels and heavenly souls scream on fear as Angels try to keep them calm whilst they investigate the disturbance;

Seraphim and Emily immediately emerge from their soul arrival area upon the first feeling of the tremors.

"SERA! What's going on?!? What's happening?" Emily yelped in horror as chuncks of concrete from the buildings of Heaven broke loose and smashed to dust around them.

Sera looked around at the same view that just minutes before was so peaceful, was now thrown into utter chaos as Angels and souls alike run and are struck by falling rocks and debris

Her voice shook as she look at her sister and weakly said "I do not know" and clutched her as close as possible whilst dodging out of the way of more falling rocks and shattering glass, whilst her sister yelled and screamed in her arms.

Sera noticed in horror that everyone who was crushed was not moving. Regular souls sure if enough damage was done but Angels? They should be able to get back up from such seemingly small injuries, but to her horror they just lay there; bleeding golden ichor and limp as a corpse.

The two seraphim take flight and dodge out of the way of any remaining falling debris as the tempura finally begins to cease, they gather wit the survivors and look on in terror as their once beautiful peaceful home is in chaos and tatters.

Emily looks to her older sister after seeing their fellow angels unmoving and bloody with no signs of stopping.

"What has happened to our home Sera? How could this happen to Heaven?" Tears well in the young girls eyes as her sister takes her in her arms in comfort as she glares out into the madness.

"I don't know why this has happened, Iusteet with the Heavenly council immediately to asses the damages done, you are to return to our home as fast as you are able and stay inside until I come back."

Emily looks to her sister with admiration at her ability to stay so calm, she pulls from her arms with a nod and her wings pull her up and away from the rubble as quickly as possible, not noticing the trepidation on her sisters face.

Sera turns to her fellow angels and takes a deep breath as to calm herself whilst the others are in hysterics over their friends and family's sudden second deaths. She opens her eyes and speaks out;

"Everyone please calm yourselves, I'm sure there's an explanation, I must immediately take to the heavenly council to discuss the damage and how we can begin to rebuild."

An angel screamed out

"WHAT ABOUT THE DEAD ANGELS?!?"

Another followed as the crowd of survivors begin to become rowdy again

"WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IMMORTAL"

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?!"

Before anything can spiral further out of control Sera raises her hands and silences everyone.

"Calm yourselves please, I do not know why this has happened, I must meet with the council and weust get an answer from our Father. The only one who could know why is Him, trust I will be swift with the information and Come to you all as soon as I can."

With the raging angels complacent for now, Sera turns to the sky and flys as fast as her wings will take her to the council room with a grimace across her face.

'everything we have worked so hard to make happen here in Heaven could be compromised if this is real'

She stops up short as she thinks of who else could've been causing trouble in heaven

'I need to speak to Lili-'

She is stopped in her thoughts as she sees the other scattered council members shooting up to the council room in the cloud, she curses herself and shoots up to the sky.

"I can only hope that this isn't what I think it is'

I'm all her heavenly wisdom, She couldn't even begin to understand what has been set in motion.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin adam #hazbin lute #hazbin lilith #hazbin overlords

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lumosandnoxwriting · 5 months

Text

Lesson Learned || Fred Weasley

Title: Lesson Learned Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: When Fred catches Y/N doing something he doesn’t approve of he’s got no choice but to teach her a valuable lesson Warnings: NSFW - minors DNI! This includes consensual non-consensual sex, meaning that during the sex scene it is made to seem that the female reader did not consent, but it is revealed after that reader and Fred are in a relationship and this was a preplanned encounter - if you don’t like that don’t read! vaginal sex, degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, possessive/jealous behavior,mentions of violence. A/N: my last little fic of the year!! Thank you to everyone who has supported me, I couldn’t do this without you! I’ve been out of the smut game for so long I needed some practice so this was born! Tags: @darthwheezely since she requested this and i love her endlessly <3

“What the fuck?”

Ice sprays across the rink as Fred comes to a halt, ripping his helmet off so he can be sure he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Because surely even a jersey chaser like Y/N has to have some standards, and there’s no way she’s standing there talking no - flirting with an idiot like Cedric Diggory.

The captain of their biggest rival and an all around mega douche.

But it turns out his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Y/N is leaning on the edge of the barrier batting her eyelashes at Cedric as he regales her with some story that Fred is sure the idiot made up to make himself seem cooler. He just about loses his mind when Y/N throws her head back and laughs, her hand coming up to rest on Cedric’s arm.

Luckily Coach blows his whistle to bring them all back from their warm up skate, or Fred would certainly find himself ejected for being the shit out of Cedric before the game even begins. He skates back with the rest of the team reluctantly, already figuring out how to deal with Cedric on the ice - and how to deal with Y/N off of it.

“Holy fuck Weasley you were an animal out there!”

Fred grins as he teammates hoop and holler around him in the locker room, still fresh on adrenaline from their crushing defeat over the Baltimore Badgers. Fueled by the rage of seeing Y/N flirt with Diggory, Fred had been on fire from the second the ref blew the whistle. He skated faster than he ever had before, and hit harder too. By the second quarter three of the Badger’s best players were benched with injuries from being slammed into the boards by Fred, and he’d even managed to break Diggory’s nose during a fight.

The 10 minutes in the penalty box had been worth it.

“Just doing what I do best!” Fred shouts back nonchalantly as he rewraps his knuckles.

He takes his time getting ready after the game, thankful that the game was at home today so there’s no need to rush to the airport for their flight back. Because he knows that Y/N is always the last one to go home, still new to her job as the assistant manager and eager to please everybody. He also knows that while everyone is in the locker room Y/N is in the rink, checking the bench and bleachers for anything anyone may have left behind.

When there’s only a few guys left in the showers Fred decides to put his plan into action. He shoves his bag under one of the benches, and yells a goodbye to his teammates as he slips out of the locker room. Moving as silently as he can, Fred makes his way through the tunnel and out into the rink, crouching down as he reaches the opening in case Y/N happens to be getting ready to come that way. He peeks around the corner best he can and a thrill runs down his spine when he sees Y/N over by the team bench. She’s down on her hands and knees as she reaches for something, and Fred makes his move.

“Jesus Christ,” Y/N shouts as she stands up, surprised to find Fred leaning against the rink watching her. “You scared the shit out of me Fred, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he responds, crossing his arms.

“Doing my job, obviously.”

Fred gives her a look. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

“Well can you just get to the point then? I’d like to finish up here so I can get home,” Y/N huffs.

“My point is,” Fred starts, tone dripping with condescension. “What the fuck were you doing flirting with Cedric fucking Diggory before the game?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s what,” Y/N spits back. “Last I checked I was allowed to screw whoever I want.”

Fred pushes off from the sideboard then, taking a slow step towards Y/N. He’s almost ashamed to admit that a thrill runs down his spine when she takes a step back. “Oh really?”

All the anger seeps from Y/N’s body and is replaced by fear at the tone of Fred’s voice. The look on his face makes her knees tremble as he continues his slow pace forward, her own steps retreating at the same pace. In an effort to distract him she throws the water bottle in her hand as hard as she can, not bothering to watch it hit him. Instead she turns around, trying to make a break for the tunnel.

Except Fred is quicker, not even deterred by the bottle smacking him in the chest he lets out a low growl, and it only takes three strides before he’s grabbing Y/N by the waist.

“Fucking, bitch,” he seethes, throwing her against the sideboard.

Before she can even think Fred is pressed up against her, pinning Y/N between the sideboard and his body. A hand twists around her hair, pulling hard to yank her head back. “Now you listen to me,” he growls, leaning in to speak against the shell of her ear. “You fuck me and only me, understand?”

“Fred,” Y/N murmurs, voice thick with a mixture of fear and sadness. “Please.”

He yanks her hair, cock twitching at the yelp in pain that leaves her lips. “Guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson, hm?”

Y/N fights against Fred as one of his hands drops to the waistband of her leggings, squirming in a desperate attempt to get away from him. But his grip on her hair is strong, and his hips have her pinned to the sideboard. “Fred, no,” she gasps, skin suddenly exposed to the cool air of the rink.

“No panties,” he coos, nibbling on Y/N’s earlobe. “It’s like you were asking for it.”

With her leggings around her knees Fred places his free hand on the middle of her shoulders, pressing down so Y/N is bent over the sideboard. He finally releases her hair, satisfied that his hand and hips will be able to keep her in place.

“Time for me to show you how a real man claims what’s his.”

Y/N gasps as Fred suddenly sinks his cock in her cunt, hips not stopping until he’s fully buried inside. He barely gives her a moment to adjust to the stretch before he’s pulling his cock out half way and fucking back into her hard.

The only noise in the rink comes from Fred’s labored pants and his belt buckle hitting the sideboard as he sets a brutal pace. Y/N’s hand covers her mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet in the hopes that Fred will just take what he wants and this will all be over soon.

“Fuck, fuck,” Fred groans. Y/N’s cunt clings to his cock like a glove that was made just for him, and the slick noise her pussy makes as he moves is just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Your cunt is unfucking believable,” he praises. “My cunt - isn’t that right sweetheart?” He slaps her ass hard when Y/N only nods - not satisfied with her nonverbal answer. “Who does this fucking cunt belong to Y/N?”

“You,” Y/N sobs out, willing to give Fred anything he wants. “It belongs to you, Fred.”

“Fucking right it does,” Fred grunts in response, pace picking up as he edges closer and closer to his orgasm. “And I’m going to mark this pretty little pussy up so everyone knows it too.”

Y/N lets out a muffled moan as Fred’s cock pulses inside her, her cunt walls throbbing around him as he fills her up with his cum. Her pussy is embarrassingly wet, and she’s afraid to admit that she would have orgasmed too had this encounter lasted any longer.

As Fred catches his breath he slowly pulls out, eyes drawn to Y/N’s pussy and the way his cum starts to slowly drip out of it. “Fuck,” he whispers, using his thumb to capture a drop before it falls so he can push it back into her.

Fred tucks his cock back into his trousers and zips up silently, and Y/N is too afraid to move. Her knees are trembling from a mixture of fear and her almost orgasm, and she can practically feel Fred’s eyes as he stares at her exposed pussy.

“I better not see you talking to Diggory or any other fuck head - understand?”

“Yes,” Y/N responds shakily.

Satisfied with her answer, Fred gives a curt nod before turning to leave. He gives her one last look over his shoulder before heading out of the tunnel - not even bothering to pull her leggings back up. Bad girls don’t deserve chivalry.

When Y/N stumbles out of the guest locker room 45 minutes later, skin pink from her shower, Fred is leaning up against the wall waiting for her. There’s a goofy grin on his face, and soon there is a matching one spreading across hers.

“Baby,” Fred greets as she jumps into his arms, hugging Y/N tight. “That was fucking incredible - I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish.”

She pulls away from the hug, giving Fred a kiss on the cheek. “That’s okay - you can make it up to me at home.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fic #harry potter #harry poter fanfiction #fw #golden

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