#look I think a look over my blog says this is no place for newbies to lose themselves

[brotherblaze]

JAILBAIT² —simon 'ghost' riley

▹ simon 'ghost' riley/gn!reader

▹ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

▹ synopsis: Ghost leaves you in Soap's care while he's away on a mission and the two of you get along like a house on fire. So much so, that Ghost's first order of business upon his return is to drag your asses home from a pub.

▹ cw: suggestive themes

▹ wc: 2,7k

▹ info: i'm blocking blank/default blogs; y'all look like bots

The training room is loud. You spot Price and Ghost in the corner of the room, overseeing whatever the newbies are doing; you think they take rotations overseeing the newbies but you don't care enough to actually ask. Ghost has his arms crossed over his chest, intently staring at two recruits sparring and you almost feel sorry for the poor sap that's gonna get his spirits absolutely crushed by him.

"I know that you've got a lot on your mind like 24/7, but God, if you don't look like a brainless bimbo with a dump truck ass standing there like that." You smile when he looks at you, head slightly tilted to the side. A few heads turn to you, probably whispering their condolences to your future as you stop in front of Ghost. "I dig it, I dig it so much."

"How about we use our inside voices?" Price says.

"Yeah, sure, okay dad." You clap your hands together once. "I got a B on my final essay and I'm here for my prize."

Price cracks a smile. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes gently. "I'm proud of you." The smile his words get is wide, a glimmer in your eyes.

When he pulls back, Ghost leans in, his mouth at your ear, black balaclava pulled up to his nose. His warm breath caresses the shell of your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, and has blood rushing to your cheeks. "Good job, pet." The tone is low, savory, thick.

And fuck, your beaming smile has his heart thundering in his chest like a wild horse. The blood is rushing so loudly in his ears that he doesn't even hear what you say before you take off again. He lingers for a few moments, staring at the doorway, willing his pulse to slow down again.

Soap grabs the office chair next to yours and sinks into it. He pulls himself closer to you, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between you. You wonder if Ghost had managed to scare him, too. Although afraid or not, he leans against the table you're sitting behind. He glances at the puzzle game open on your laptop screen, then looks at you.

"So, why 'Jailbait'?"

"Slang terms like 'jailbait' are hard to find an equivalent to in other languages. Especially if the languages are from different language families. 'Jailbait' is Germanic, I'm more comfortable speaking Uralic."

"You're not American?" He seems surprised. You shake your head.

"No, I just spent an ungodly amount of time watching American cartoons as a child; I'm from mainland Europe. I thought the term 'jailbait' meant someone who looks younger than they are, and Simon won't stop making fun of me over it—it's been three years." You look up from your laptop, eyes narrowed at the people in the briefing room—Ghost, Price, Gaz, and others you don't recognize—then look towards Soap. "And Price likes enabling him. Thanks for embarrassing me in front of my boyfriend, dad."

Soap physically takes a double take and you raise a brow. "You—"

"I really didn't think military men are this gullible." You turn your office chair towards him and jab him gently in the shin. "No, we're not related, but I'd say he's a better father figure than my actual father; tells me he's proud of me and all. We lived in the same building for a short while."

Soap relaxes; like he's had the weight of the world taken off his shoulders. He tilts his head back, a low string of Scottish curses leaving his lips. Finally, he looks at you, a small grin on his face. "I see why he calls you a pain in the ass."

"That's the name of the game." You pull your chair closer to him, one leg slotting between his so you're close enough to talk without anybody overhearing. "You got any dirt on Simon or Price? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

He thinks for a moment, then smiles. "Okay. Ghost thinks we don't know he likes listening to Lady Gaga."

"He sleeps on his back like vampires in those old movies. I have pictures."

"I need those pictures. Price once passed out on the couch after three beers while the rest of us were eating Christmas dinner."

"Price used to do positive affirmations in the morning."

"Ghost buys his underwear only on sale; said it was a good financial decision."

"He still does that. Oh, he's a total cat dad, even though my cat doesn't understand him 'cause I don't talk to her in English."

Ghost's voice drifts in front behind Soap. "I'm going to make that cat bilingual." Soap freezes, and immediately shakes it off. He glances at Ghost with a slight chuckle. Ghost tilts his head to the side. "You two look chummy."

"Trading secrets; y'know, the usual." You nod at him, taking in the tactical gear, the weapons holstered on his body, the new mask. "Betcha gotta fight off the ladies with a stick looking like that. What's up?"

"We're heading out, should be back by tomorrow. Johnny, I'm leaving them in your care." He talks like he's handing over the most important mission. Maybe you should start compiling the differences between Ghost and Simon. "You," he flicks his fingers against your forehead, and you frown, placing your cool fingers over the place he flicked, "don't bully him, and take your medication and your vitamins."

"I don't need my antidepressants as long as I can look at your ass." You roll the office chair slightly to the side to catch the curve of Ghost's ass. "Tactical asscheeks—I'm feeling better already."

Ghost makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and you grin. You reach into your hoodie pocket and pull out your pill organizer, dramatically flipping open today's empty pocket. The remaining pills rattle when you shake it.

"Hey, Si," you begin, fitting the pill organizer back into your hoodie pocket, "what sound does a sleeping T-Rex make?"

"Copy. Behave."

"Me? Always."

He's gone quickly after that. Life continues on around you. So, you push the worry to the back of your mind, tuck it away somewhere you might forget about it. Soap is sitting next to you and you turn your laptop slightly to give him a view of the show on your screen.

"I'm surprised he didn't answer your joke; he's the king of shitty jokes," he says in the middle of the opening credits.

"He's not supposed to; he's gotta come home to hear the answer."

Suddenly, Soap understands.

You don't race to greet him when he returns.

And then he gets word that someone drove you and Soap to a nearby pub. And forgot you there.

He's suddenly invigorated from the draining mission by cold fury in his veins.

Price intercepts before Ghost can verbally eviscerate the person who drove you, pulls him away by the shoulder and wraps his fingers around a car key.

The drive is silent until they pull up to the supposed pub you're at. Ghost slams the car door shut with more force than necessary and Price doesn't bother saying anything.

The insides are dimly lit, the scent of alcohol sharp in the air. There's a rowdy group in the corner, a cake in the middle of the table. Ghost doesn't immediately spot you anywhere in the pub and it's got his heart racing, chest tight, because fuck, you're supposed to be here and every scenario of what if starts flooding into his mind like a violent torrent of water.

"Simon!" His head snaps up when he hears his name in your voice and you're emerging from the crowd of people with a bright smile. You throw your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms so tightly around you that you wheeze. His grip relaxes slightly. Price walks past him, towards Soap who's emerging from the same crowd, drunk. He almost stumbles over a loose floorboard.

"You having a party?" Ghost asks you and you giggle. He brings one hand to rest on the back of your neck as you pull away, his thumb stroking your jawline.

"We were gonna have a drinking competition but those guys asked if we wanted to celebrate with them 'cause someone didn't come and they didn't wanna waste the drinks." You point towards the group and Simon realizes they're all young women, about your age. They wave and you return the gesture with a gleeful giggle. "Think they asked 'cause they like Soap."

"Well, wave your new friends goodbye, we're leaving."

Ghost lets you go and watches you hurry back to the group of young women. They seem saddened at your departure, taking turns hugging you and shouting their goodbyes to you and Soap as you leave. Ghost helps guide you into the car, hand on your head as you duck to climb in and he buckles you up. You want to protest, tell him you're not five and can do it yourself, but he moves with such efficiency that you bite your tongue.

The drive is silent. You fiddle with the car radio but can't find a station signal. It's frustrating and in the end, you just leave it, white noise and all. Ghost turns it off.

"Fuckin' shitty thing," you mutter under your breath. "Hate this. Fucking hate Freud—why the fuck is he the father of modern psychology? He was a fucking pussy ass bitch who made really good points in his early work but then backpedaled and went 'oh well, actually, every male child sees their father as competition and every female child sees their mother as competition because they both have the desire to copulate with the parent of opposite sex', like what the fuck, dude? His patients had literally been abused as children and he gaslit the shit out of them and I'm supposed to hail this piece of shit turd as the end all be all? No, fuck that."

You pause to take a breath, already gearing up the rest of your rant, and Ghost speaks up.

"What's the name of that one show with the big robots?"

There's a momentary silence as you turn to stare at him. "Evangelion?"

"The one with the kid who cries a lot." He presses his thigh against the steering wheel and opens the bottle of water in the cup holder. He passes it to you.

"Evangelion." You take a sip of water.

"What's the plot about?"

"Do you want it chronologically or the way the anime put it? Fuck that, you're getting chronology. Shut up, listen—"

Price is almost in awe at the way Ghost has managed to de-escalate your rant. He recalls the one and only time he's seen you drunk like this, crying in the apartment building elevator, shaky breaths and choked sobs between cussing out the self-service checkout in the grocery store down the street. He hadn't known what to do, how to make you feel better, so he'd ended up sitting on the cold tiled floor of the hallway with you, not catching half of what you'd said, but still listening.

Now he's here, years later, listening to you prattle about hundred-meter-tall angels and robots piloted by children and whatever else, with someone who's successfully managed to defuse your breakdown-inducing drunken rant. And Ghost is listening intently, interjecting with a question every now and then.

Your arrival at base gets a few stares from others. They're easily swayed by Ghost's venomous look in their direction, all of them turning back to what they'd just been doing. Price grabs Soap and bids you goodnight.

Simon exhales a heavy breath when the two of you are finally in your (temporarily) shared room. The door clicks locked behind him and he tugs his balaclava off. You're still talking, wildly gesturing, but you've switched languages three times now and Simon has lost any thread of plot he'd understood.

He sinks down onto his bed with a tired sigh, head tilted back, eyes closed to allow himself this one moment of peace, one last pause before he can pass out next to you. He hears you stop in front of him, hands cradling his cheeks.

"Please kiss me, Simon." Your voice is a whisper into the cool air, hands dipping down the columns on his neck.

"You're so needy," he rasps, large hands now on your waist, pushing under your shirt. You're so warm and you startle when his cold hands make contact with your skin. You nod then, a small 'uh-huh' said under your breath, fingers tapping nonsensical patterns against his shoulder.

Either that or you suck at morse code.

Simon helps you shimmy out of your jacket and shirt, his fingers hooking behind your bra clasp.

Simon Riley is all jagged edges and scars, rough hands dripping with blood. So much blood—there's not enough water in the world to wash it all off. Sometimes he can't get the taste out of his mouth. He moves with the precision of a killer, tries to make no unnecessary movements, nothing that would threaten to compromise the mission.

You—you're soft. There's a glimmer in your eyes when you call out his name or see a dog on the street, a flower blooming between the cracked pavement of a sidewalk. Your hands cradle his face gently to place a kiss on his lips, like he's made of glass and any force you might exert when you touch him will make him shatter. You don't keep an umbrella on you, but a coral pink raincoat, tucked into the bottom of the bag you go to university with, right next to your apartment kets clipped to a plush raccoon.

You take hour-long showers twice a week just to focus on hair care.

What the fuck, you had said when you'd found out he showers in three minutes. The water doesn't even heat up properly in three minutes, you'd said. Simon had only shrugged.

His hot mouth trails down your neck, your collarbones, chest, all open-mouthed kisses. Wet tongue flicks your nipple and even your moans are soft. The breath that escapes you when he repeats his action is a soft exhale. Soft, soft, soft, too soft for him, too good for him—he's a seasoned killer, the shadow that goes bump in the night and grabs grown men from the back, a knife to the jugular as his departing gift.

The scent of your strawberry body kit washes away the scent of iron in blood.

"Stop teasing."

"You're drunk," he says, low murmur against your skin, reverberating into the hollow of your chest.

"'M not." You run your fingers through his blond hair, nails raking against his scalp. It's just barely long enough for you to grab a handful and tug and it elicits a breathy moan from him, forces the tension out of his neck and he leans further into you, hands on your hips.

More, just one more moment of solace, and then Simon is grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over your head. He's a solid rock, unmoving as you use him as a point of leverage to peel your jeans off. He helps you into your yellow sleeping shorts, tightens the white drawstrings, and knots them.

His eyes fall on the faint marks on your thighs, most of them already healed. There's one, though, darker than the others that's still having trouble fading. He leans down, presses a gentle kiss against that one.

"Tease," you grumble. "Pain in my ass."

And he laughs, tired and suddenly in pain again, ribs aching from a blow he took to his bulletproof vest. He smacks your thigh and you tell him something not-so-nice in a language he doesn't understand as you climb past him to get to your cot.

By the time Simon has shrugged off his own clothes, neatly folded and placed where they usually are, you're mumbling incoherently, fading fast. The corners of his mouth curl up slightly. You reach for him and he takes your hand, fingers lacing together. He's careful as he lowers himself onto the cot that sometimes screeches and groans.

"Hey, Si," you mumble, "what sounds does a sleeping T-Rex make?" Even half-asleep, you pause for dramatic effect. "A dino-snore."

"Good one."

He pulls you close, close as he can, and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

bonus: When Ghost comes back from his run the next morning, he finds Soap in your (temporarily) shared room, sitting on your cot as you explain the lore of Evangelion to him. You have charts.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod x you #cod x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

[takecareluv]

ink baby | eddie munson x reader 

word count : 708

author’s note : yes this is the same exact fic from earlier but i couldn't stop thinking about it all day and i really wanted to share it as an eddie fic as well because i honestly started to picture him in this about halfway thru writing and it just works, in my opinion. and i couldn't leave teddie bear hanging sooo here’s my first ( sorta ? ) eddie fic :3 but this can also be read as a vinnie hacker fic in another post on my blog 

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

as hard as you tried to hide the jitterbugs that were crawling through your mind, they were quick to spread throughout your entire body, causing your legs to bounce uncontrollably and your fingers to tap dance across your thighs. a dead give away you were in fact nervous. and eddie, knowing you like the back of his own hand, immediately picked up on your anxiety.

moving his right hand from the steering wheel, he placed it on top of yours, intertwining your fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze as to say i’m here and i love you.

“it’s gonna be okay, baby. there’s nothing to worry about. i’m gonna be right there with you.” he cooed, his voice instantly calming some of your nerves. “and we could always cancel if you’re not ready.”

while eddie had been a veteran to the process, and pain, of getting a tattoo, you were a total newbie. your skin like a blank canvas waiting to be inked by the needle you were only slightly terrified of.

“no, no, i’m ready. i want to do this. i dunno why i’m so nervous. i guess i’m scared it’s going to hurt a lot,” you rambled.

“it’s okay to be nervous,” eddie reassured. “i was too when i got my first tattoo. and look at me now,” he smiled, which caused you to let out a giggle.

“i’m happy you want to do this with me; that you feel comfortable enough to get your first tattoo with me.”

“of course i do, teddy. you always make me feel so safe n comfortable. there’s no one else i’d rather do this with.” you reached over the center console to press a chaste kiss to eddie’s cheek, prompting it to immediately flush a bright red.

. . .

for the remainder of the car ride, you sat in a comfortable silence; until finally, eds pulled into the first open spot in front of the small shop.

walking hand and hand into the building, you no longer felt the nerves that took over your body during the car ride over — you were ready to do this.

eddie still went first to show you how the process went, and before you knew it, he was up and done — checking out the finished product through the mirror, leaving the chair empty and waiting for you.

“you ready, baby?”  

you nodded with a small smile, “as i’ll ever be.” moving slowly into the daunting chair, you showed the artist exactly where you wanted the tattoo to go.

they quietly counted down before beginning your tattoo, as to give you a short warning.

three,

two,

one.

you let a short gasp as the needle first touched your skin — instinctively reaching for eddie’s arm to hold him close to you.  

“look at me, baby.” he pressed two fingers to your chin, turning you to face him. “keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. breathe for me.”

your eyes stayed on eddie as he used his thumb to stroke your cheek and whispered sweet praises in your ear.

“you’re doing so good, baby. you’re almost there, almost done.” ed cooed lovingly, causing you to now blush.

you continued to hold his hand as you began to play with the rings that adorned his fingers, a nervous habit of yours that eddie didn’t at all mind if it meant keeping your anxiety at ease.

a few more minutes lost in each other’s eyes, and the needle finally stopped —knocking you back into reality. “you’re all done. did good for your first time.” the tattoo artist remarked, giving you a soft smile.

"you did so good, baby! i’m so proud of you,” eddie smiled brightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before turning to the artist who was now cleaning up the station and preparing for their next client. “it looks great, man. thanks for doing this.”

eyeing the beautiful design that was now permanently inked on your skin forever, you grinned from ear to ear. “i love it so much!" you marveled, thanking the artist as well.

after paying and bidding farewell to the shop owner, eds turned back to you, “how ‘bout we go get some ice cream, hm? what do you think, princess?”

#teddie bear <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

[vaguely-yandere]

Hi Chamomile! I wanted to say that I just LOVE ur blog and ur portrayal of yanderes. You don’t know how deflated I get when finding ONLY harmful yanderes in the tags. Ive always loved submissive yanderes and the like because they are SO CUTE!! U make them so LOVABLE AND CUTEEEEE!

Because u are my 1# favorite blog I wanted to share a yandere idea with u that I can’t stop thinking about:

Cowboy yanderes/southern yanderes. LIKE OH MY GAHHH😍 the southern accent, their polite manners (except for when they get rid of their rival and place their body all over the wide open fields they help maintain), the COURTINGGGG. I have this fantasy of like just a darling moving to a southern town because a. They are introverted as heck and don’t like the city and b. They want to live a quiet life by themselves (no family or friends). Just a cute darling that wants to live peacefully until…. The towns sweetheart falls in love with them. Good looks, lovely manners, church goer and helper to all! They are the total catch with suitors just hounding them down! It’s amazing to know that yandere stayed single for so long claiming to be waiting for the “right one” and while their MAY have been a potential suitor that was the best fit for yandere, yandere decided on the anti social newbie. Everyone BEWILDERED as to why yandere claimed this mess of a person as the love of their life, nobody can say it straight to their face tho(yandere SEETHES if anyone speaks I’ll of their darlin’) just this cutie following you around town, helping you carry your bags, opening every door for you, talking to the sales clerk if they have anything in the back if they don’t have it on shelves. I’m sorry I don’t know how to write as good as you do it buuuuuttt I hope I got you into it! Btw is it possible to be heart ❤️ anon? Thank uuuu!!

....... how did you know im southern ┬┴┬┴┤(-_├┬┴┬┴

but i can totally see cowboy yan being an absolute sweetie!! always gushing about you, always trying to help out around your house, inviting you to church or the bar, just so sweet!! and of course people are jealous but everyone knows not to mess with the sweet little cowboy who carries a knife around all the time, owns a few acres of land and is basically the town sheriff.. i mean, not unless you want all the aunties to shame you!!! and also end up tied up to a tree and left for the wild hogs to eat alive.

and theyre just so so nice, gardening for you, taking care of pests, teaching you about the local environment and such, scolding anyone who talks bad about you, basically teaching you how to be southern! you kinda struggle with it at first but with cowboys sweet nature and patience, you get the hang of it! and if you offer to help them with their chores, they might actually faint from happiness (and a bit of heatstroke)

speaking of heatstroke, i imagine youd struggle to adjust to the weather and end up wearing some less than conservative clothes and, well, there isnt anyone close enough to spy on you so why not just hang out in your backyard in barely anything? its hot, theres a nice breeze going, the sun is shining and if you end up falling asleep, no issue! it just gives cowboy yan the perfect opportunity to memorize how pretty you look, maybe try to secretly relieve some of the arousal they feel and get to church to confess how bad they feel, kneeling in front of the stained glass, sweaty with a hot face, hands clasped as they quietly admit their sin. no, not stalking you, silly! you were a gift to them from god! they just felt bad about touching themselves so close to your half naked form and giving into temptation! but they dont feel bad enough to stop themselves from doing it again and again and again!!!

eheheehe and i love imagining you putting their hat on, trying to be flirty and/or funny and just them trying so so hard not to combust as they try to explain what that means! so so cute!!

and gosh, i just love imagining this usually very tough looking, rugged yandere being absolutely whipped for you. fixing things around your house, taking you where ever you want, hell they'll even give you their jacket if you vaguely mention being chilly! and just imagining them getting on their knees in front of you, looking up at you with so much want... its hard not to give em what they want!

#cowboy yandere #asks #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere smut #❤️ darling

[icemankazansky]

Being a newbie in the TG fandom is hard. There's the burnbook, the callouts blog, there're people lurking to start shits everywhere, all I want to do is to discuss characterisations and ships with someone and to post my works. And I do look up to the elders of the fandom because I think you guys are cool, I enjoy your fics and edits, I know maybe it's just the overthinker in me but sometimes it feels like the likes of me are not too entirely welcome for some weird guts feeling reasons.

I want to say first and foremost: You are entirely welcome here. I can only speak for myself and the pre-TGM Top Gun fans who I know personally (which is most of them), but we are thrilled you are here. We want to talk to you about characterizations and ships. We want to see your works! We are very excited to have new people with whom to share this fandom we love, and we are so, so fond of so many of the new people we've met already.

But I will also say: I understand how you feel. I have been in fandom for a long time, and honestly, I have never seen anything like this. Honestly, I think it's a tiny part of this fandom who are running these nasty blogs, starting these fights, and terrorizing people on their blogs and in their asks. But they're LOUD. It was a complete surprise and very upsetting when this stuff started. It was kind of like this: The Top Gun fandom was this small, old neighborhood fairly removed from major cities. We knew all our neighbors; some of us lived there for over a decade; some of us helped build the neighborhood. It was very peaceful, warm, and inviting. Then we heard they were building some big suburbs nearby, with all the things that come with it: New schools, shopping complexes, chain restaurants, automatic car washes. It was going to be a change, but we were excited to have new neighbors, and we welcomed them. They moved in, and for a while everything was nice. There were growing pains and more traffic, but there were fun, creative new people to meet, and Starbucks and big movie theaters and cupcake boutiques.

Then things began to shift. Some people in the big, shiny new suburbs began to look around this huge city they had built up all around us, and decided, "You know, this town is great, except for that old section. It's an eyesore, so rundown, dated ... it's affecting our property values, and it's the cause of everything that's wrong around here." And they didn't just whisper about it between themselves. They held town hall meetings and posted public declarations about it all over town. (It wasn't just anonymous people bitching about us on those cruel, cowardly burn book blogs. They were in the tags on their private blogs talking about how the older part of fandom was ruining everything, how there had been no good fanfiction written before TGM came out... They named us individually in hate posts. They came in our asks and left harassing comments and death threats.) And we're just sitting here in our cozy little cottages where we've lived for years, like ... you don't need to come here. You can stay in your shiny suburbs and just ignore this part of town, instead of throwing bricks through our windows and graffitiing our houses. But they don't. They haven't.

And so we've had to put bars on our windows and hire a neighborhood watch. I understand that, as a newcomer to fandom, it can be intimidating to see fandom elders making posts addressing new people in fandom and asking them to respect our neighborhood. But we're addressing a very small percentage of fandom who are actively terrorizing us, who are actively working to make this fandom a negative place. That's not you. You are welcome here. We want you here. Please post your work. Please come talk to us. We will help you find your way around if you like. We'll introduce you to our friends and good restaurants. We are happy you're here.

This is an open invitation to you and anyone who needs it, but please always feel free to send me an ask or message me privately if you feel unsure about how to make your way around this fandom, or if you just want to talk about Top Gun or anything else. Honestly, I am so happy to speak to you, and I want to help in any way I can.

Carly

#asks answered #top gun fandom problems

[coughloop]

Where is this boss guy even from? Did he buy the url off someone? What is up with that

i dont care enough to scroll through his blog and see how long he's been posting for since he doesnt have a viewable archive but my genuine assumption considering he's willing to throw money at things since he bought checkmarks and (i assume) bought his url is this:

loser guy who wants to be horny and mysterious makes account on tumblr

steals tons of content be it tweets or memes or cats from reddit, maybe some posts took off, maybe he was just posting in to the void

when tumblr blaze rolled out i have a feeling he used it a lot to gain a following, no idea how big it was then or is even now

at some point in the summer this happened and now he's pretending it didnt. i think the whole thing is incredibly sus but there's probably better analysis and how much the guy sucks and shouldnt be trusted on that linked post itself

when elon took over twitter a lot of people came to tumblr for the first time and were looking for something similar to what they were used to so following a guy that copy and pastes horny relationship babygirl posts from twitter and whatever memes he sees is familiar so his follower base got a huge boost.

he got big enough on the bland and basic/newbie side of tumblr that he breached containment and now the veteran side of tumblr that have seen these clowns come and go since 2012 (think about the iconic "you. cum/come. now" gif) have all decided to start making fun of him because his really stupid posts started appearing on our dashes (either naturally or continued use of blaze, though again him using blaze is just my speculation)

we learned that not only is he bland and annoying but he's also potentially a predator (again see link above, i feel like we're not talking enough about this) so he's become an easy target to all rally around and say fuck this guy

i doubt he will ever delete cause he's obviously too egotistical to ever admit the ultimate defeat of leaving a website so instead he is going to continue turning off reblogs on posts that people make fun of him on and blocking anyone who already reblogged the version making fun of him.

again, a lot of this is speculation but to me it makes the most sense, loser throws money at website until enough people fall for his shtick and he gets what wants which is horny fans and a place to be gross.

[nancypullen]

Sunday Evening

There are about ten different things I should be doing right now, but I am the queen of procrastination so here I am on the ol' blog. It was a very long week. I have such mixed feelings about the job. The people are absolutely wonderful. The work is interesting and beneficial. But the schedule is...unpleasant. Well, I say that as a person who doesn't really have a schedule. I had to ask several times if I could maybe know my work days/hours at least a week in advance. I'm there 8.5 hours but take a mandatory 1 hour unpaid lunch. So I work 7.5 hours most days, though I worked just 5 on Saturday. They are long days. I suppose I had the idea that part-time would be 20-ish hours a week. Looks like the plan is to work me just under the cut off between part/full time. Not having a set schedule in advance makes it really hard to plan any sort of normal life. For example, the Edgewaters have been asking me if I'm off on Feb. 10th to celebrate the grandgirl's 6th birthday. It's 12 days away and I still can't tell them yes or no. How can I make a doctor's appointment or even schedule a haircut? You don't call anywhere around here and get in quickly, so it would be nice to have, say, a month's schedule to reference when trying to make an appointment. I get the impression that it's not looked upon favorably if you throw a wrench in the works and request particular days off. I guess I'll ride it out and see if it gets better, maybe because I'm the newbie they're just seeing if I survive before locking me into the work calendar? Every time I asked, no one seemed to think it was a big deal. It's a big deal to me, I like to plan my life and get my ducks in a row - not knowing my works days/hours ten or twelve days out rattles me. Really hoping that part gets better.

.I'm a minimum of twenty yeas older than everyone at work, thirty years older than most of them. I feel like a fossil. Actually, the director is around my age, but she has put in her retirement notice. So I show up in my old lady glory and try not to grunt or groan when I get up from shelving books on the lowest shelf. I've had to move boxes, tables, racks of chairs, wood and glass bookcases and pretend that my sciatica isn't flaring up. There is a lot of ibuprofen involved. This is how I feel there...

but they're all nice to me because their mamas raised them to respect their elders. I was at the circulation desk one morning and talking to another employee who is not yet thirty. I realized that I could easily be her grandmother.

The eternal optimist in me says to keep plugging away and everything will settle into place and I'll just be the nice old lady at the library. The part of my brain that always yells, "FLEE! You don't belong here!" is screaming in my ear. Luckily, the eternal optimist occupies about 90% of my gray matter, so she usually wins. Onward, onward, onward. I mentioned that on Saturday I was off work at 2 o'clock. Shortly after that the Edgewaters came over and brought their pizza oven. That was a treat. They made gourmet pizzas for our dinner and we had a wonderful visit. Little Miss kept me busy with Barbies and books, and I plied her with cupcakes. They left today around 3 o'clock and the mister and I are sitting here now wondering if we even want to bother with dinner tonight. I'm ready for bed. The workweek is staring me in the face and I'm not ready. Have I whined enough? I swear I'm not unhappy, just tired. I'd give my right arm for 5 hour work days (like Saturday) instead of 8.5. Mickey has been amazing - actually cleaning and cooking! I have no reasons to complain. So I should probably shut up. That said, we're moving forward and starting to plan a 40th anniversary trip. I'm crossing my fingers that they'll grant me unpaid leave. As a part-time employee I don't accrue vacation days, so I guess we'll see how all of that plays out. Yikes.

I'm boring myself sick with this post and I can't imagine that it's been at all interesting or entertaining to read. I'll wait a couple of days and try to post something worth reading. There have been amusing incidents at the library, but I hesitate to write about any of it because this is a small town and my name is on the blog. I'll have to find my way with that. I certainly wouldn't name names or embarrass anyone. Oh well, I'm off to ready my clothes for work and pack a lunch. I'll try to keep a Mary frame of mind. No one I work with would get that reference.

I'm so old.

*sigh* Until next time - stay safe, stay well. Sending out loads of love. XOXO, Nancy

[outoftheirdifferences]

(For the mun questions meme! Have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book? Who is your favorite OC? Have you ever developed a ship based on writing with a certain other character / mun?)

Questions for the mun.

Have you ever written a canon muse that you first thought of ‘meh’ when they appeared in their canon show/movie/book?

Hm. I want to say definitely, I'm sure I remember doing that... but it took me a while to actually place any characters who match that definition. I think a couple of main examples would have to be, firstly, Janja (Lion Guard), who I played on one site for a little bit; I hadn't found him a compelling character at all when I'd watched the show, but decided to try him there for whatever reason and found him surprisingly fun to write as.

The other would probably be Flutt.ershy (ML.P). I mean, granted, I kinda first thought "meh" about the entire show when I first learned about it and only started watching it because someone told me that I was most like Twilight out of the cast so I got curious; but I know Flutt.ershy took me longer to warm up to than any of the others. Then at some point she abruptly grew on me (was it because of a certain episode that made me like her more? I honestly don't remember) and - after previously only having written her Discord-corrupted mean version as a joke character once - I played as her on several sites in rapid succession because of that!

Who is your favorite OC?

Of my own OCs... I think I know who everyone's probably expecting me to say, since Lauren's the only OC I have on this blog. But honestly I think the answer has to be Cinnamon, from my doggie characters story idea. Cutie little mail delivery puppy who's super serious about her job but also a big sweetheart, I just love her so much :D

Have you ever developed a ship based on writing with a certain other character / mun?

Oh, for sure. I know for just one example, Margo / Antonio (Desp.icable Me) was one. I started Margo's blog absolutely convinced that I was never going to play any such relationship between the two after the way he ditched her in canon... and yet, interacting with this one Antonio roleplayer, bouncing them off each other, I just really came to love the dynamic we were building; and by the time she reached the point of forgiving him when he was genuinely regretful, I was fully on board shipping it! (Albeit only with that one mun; writing with anyone else who portrayed the character would definitely have had to start from step one all over again.)

I mean, come to think of it, that was where my absolute OTP Patch/Angel ship came from too! I'd never even considered the characters together before they began bouncing off each other with Patch's first player on that one site; but even though I was still VERY much a RPing newbie at the time, and I would cringe to look back at those posts now, every interaction the two of them had made me fall in love with them as a pair. Thirteen-and-a-half years later I'm still shipping them, so you could say it definitely left an impression on me! xD

#mlp tw #(only a mention but still) #outofthisgxlaxy #ooc #mun rambles #meme response #Thaaaanks so much for sending these! :D

[brillemos]

I posted 8,194 times in 2022

That's 2,259 more posts than 2021!

60 posts created (1%)

8,134 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stupid-lemon-eater

@thebadwulff

@annundriel

@snake-and-mouse

@upsidedowngoblin

I tagged 7,118 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#honestly me - 634 posts

#lmao - 476 posts

#supernatural - 288 posts

#our flag means death - 255 posts

#tumblr - 211 posts

#the devil judge - 195 posts

#cats - 187 posts

#destiel - 185 posts

#tgcf - 182 posts

#fanfic - 145 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i don't care about mcr but this post distresses me cause i'm apparently like the same age as batman in the new movie which is uncomfortable

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Today I turn 34!

My 30s really have been better than my 20s, so far. Hopefully that trend continues for the upcoming year!

I took today off so I could have a 3 day weekend, and I'm going on a quick solo road trip to Big Bear (mountain area of SoCal) to celebrate 😊 Even though it might be rainy tomorrow, hopefully I can come back with photos to share!

8 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

#4

My blaze post finished last night and I got the "Blaze Report" after I went to bed.

Here are the stats: Impressions: 9223 Likes: 271 Reblogs: 114 Replies: 32 Follows: 2 Shares: 9

Yes, while some people assumed I paid for the $10 version, I actually paid for the $25 version, which estimates 7k impressions, so I'm surprised I got over 9k [insert meme here].

These stats don't line up with the notes on the actual post, which is curious. It has 40 comments (including 3 of my own), 184 reblogs and 356 likes. I'm guessing the difference comes from users who saw the reblogs and not the original sponsored post? Getting only 580 notes with 9k impressions is a little disappointing but that's tumblr for you

Anyway, that was super fun! I think I might try again sometime, but maybe with something less likely to have people curse at me lmao

9 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#3

alivorte ➡ brillemos

I posted about this earlier today (thanks @tenacioustam and @lib for responding and helping me pick!) but I finally changed my url!

In case you missed it, brillemos means "let's shine" in Spanish! And is also a pun on my name, Bri, because I'm a cringe dork and proud of it 😎

I saved alivorte as a side blog and wrote a little JavaScript that will auto-redirect to my new url, even if you're just looking at a singular post, it will redirect to that post. BUT, it only works on desktop. I don't know how to make it work on mobile and I'm not particularly motivated to try. Sorry mobile-using followers 😅

9 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#2

I'm registered for the Lesbians Who Tech Pride Summit this year and I recall that you went to the same event before (or something that sounded very, very similar to it). Do you have any tips to get the most out of it? I am still very much a tech newbie who wants to break into tech and the agenda looks a bit overwhelming. Thanks in advance if you have time to answer this ask! If not, it's okay...you sharing your career journey on tumblr has been inspiring, to say the least!

Aww thanks! I did go to Lesbians Who Tech back in 2018 when I was still in grad school. I think I also signed up for the virtual pride summit this year as well, though I probably won't be able to attend (work kinda gets in the way lol).

The biggest regret I have about when I attended in 2018 was being too shy to try to connect with other people there. I think that's probably the biggest benefit to attending events like this in the first place - networking. Which I've never been particularly good at, lol. So if possible, I'd recommend targeting sessions about networking or allow you to network.

Otherwise, as a tech newbie, you likely won't get much benefit from the more technical sessions, unless you already have some prior exposure to the topic or it's marketed as a beginner friendly session (like I found one called Intro to Native Mobile Development on Tuesday, if that suits your fancy). So I'd have some fun with it, look for ones that sound interesting to you! Or check out sessions in a variety of different areas of tech (coding, analytics, product mangement, etc) so you get a wider exposure to the tech world. I feel a little overwhelmed myself looking at how many sessions there are lol so I don't think I can give more specific advice than this, unfortunately.

I hope you have fun attending the summit, and if you ever have any more questions, feel free to reach out at any time!

13 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

585 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #why did i post so many more times this year than last year lmao #also that last post was the post i blazed when the feature had just come out btw #i wouldn't post loss for no reason

[fourfour4]

Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?*

...or joined a cult? I did. And it was CH.

Note: I wrote this post way before publishing my review and CH’s response to my review, in which Magnolia accused me of ~surprise surprise~ lying. Exactly like I predicted. I wish I had published this post earlier, it would have been cherry on top.

If by now you’re not searching the truth behind the CH facade, then what are you waiting for? You’ll run into reviews in review websites, reviews by sellers they were wronged and banned, a dedicated blog or two to expose CH, Tumblr posts, and a few Reddit threads. Some do touch on the fact the CH resembles a cult. In a way, it does.

-You’re encouraged AKA forced to believe and follow the ideology that CH founders endorse:

Their definitions, beliefs, ideologies, are ingrained in the forum. You don’t believe in what Magnolia (or the mysterious Ash) say? Too bad, you’ll be bombarded by members yelling what they have “learned” from those amazing founders. You literally will not get an opposing view different from what CH preaches. Everyone follows the same description of Black Art. Everyone believes in the CH classification system. Everyone defines Soul and Spirit the exact same way Magnolia/Ash do. Got a question? Here are links to forum threads that answer your question, no need for outside resources. It’s an echo chamber, a circlejerk. 

-You’re discouraged from believing in anything related to the meta and para outside of the forum and CH:

That seller said djinn are this and that? They’re wrong! We are right! Why? Because we have been here longer and we know our stuff and we traveled the world and we wrote books and we have big website and we are just the GOAT. 

-You’re not allowed to share different ideas that opposes CH:

Yes you can have different ideas and opinions but the CORE cannot be different than what CH believes in. You either regurgitate what has been said or each time you’ll be labeled as a newbie who still needs to learn. 

-Copypasta is a fundamental pillar of CH:

The same thing is being said over and over again. Forum members constantly exchange forum links to posts written by CH founders like they’re exchanging the recipe of a cheesecake. The only difference is that Magnolia writes normally and Ash writes in caps. 

-Communication is kept strictly in the forum:

Cults view themselves as a “supportive community of like-minded people”. Cults also encourage AKA force members to only spend time with other members of the cult. This is what CH does. Magnolia describes CH as a community of people who share a common vision together. Members cannot communicate outside of the forum (for reasons CH likes to list each time when questioned). So everything is contained in the forum and it is strictly monitored to keep things in check. Imagine staying in one place, reading the same regurgitated information, get questioned when you don’t follow these information, only communicate with members who blindly believe in those information, discouraged from seeking answers else where because the founders of this place KNOW BETTER than anyone else — still don’t believe you’re in a somewhat cult? 

-CH preys on vulnerable people:

This is a tough as it might trigger some or get misunderstood. Almost every member of the forum have mental health issues. Or problems with money. Or dissatisfied with their lives and looking for answers, whether love problems or jobs or friends and family. I know because I was one of them.These issues really affect thinking skills and the ability to judge correctly. Vulnerable people look for answers out of desperation and CH always presents their ideologies and magical solutions as be-all and end-all. Also, some of their “loyal” members love to talk about how CH helped them with their issues. Then those vulnerable people start chasing the dream of being healed and drink the CH Kool-Aid. They themselves turn into customers and blind followers in hopes of one day, just one day being healed or helped. The circle [jerk] continues. 

-Attract with promise of family and community: 

Magnolia loves to say the forum is one big family and is a place of sharing and learning. This is the best bait to attract lonely, vulnerable people. If you read the threads requesting spells or work/solutions for friendship and love, you’ll know how absolutely lonely and suffering these people are. Just like cults where they are promised a solid community, CH does the same. Especially with sprinkling love, light, and positivity as the main values in their advertisement. Automatic acceptance, peer group, and love bombing are all practiced too.

-Everything is a lie, please don’t believe what you read:

Magnolia absolutely loves to point out how every negative review or post about CH is a lie. Words formed by hatred. You can read my previous post where I talk about this extensively. If you follow the Anti MLM movement; you’ll notice how companies instruct their recruiters to not mention the name of the company when pitching the service. Why? To discourage people from googling and finding out that this particular business is a pyramid scheme. Amway (which is one of the oldest MLM companies around) never allows their recruiters to mention Amway ever in the initial pitch AND blatantly asks people to not google Amway! They even have it on their website and request people to not believe what they read online and label everything as false information. Feels familiar? When you see a business owner running around in different platforms repeating over and over that every criticism is a lie or hate speech or a false review and ask people to “be wise”  — this is suspicious. Why are you so invested in proving that every negative review is incorrect and that people are out there to get you? What do you gain by asking people not to believe what they read online? What is your goal of gatekeeping what info people receive? What is the main motive behind this fear of people discovering that your business isn’t perfect? What are you hiding and why are you trying to control the narrative? Only cults do that. Simply asking people to consider everything they read is a lie speaks volume of your agendas. 

-Haters gonna hate. If I’m attacked, it means I’m successful: 

This ties to the previous point and is pretty much self-explanatory. 

Quick similarities between MLM which are cults on their own and CH:

-Loyal customers are obsessed in their defense: 

Have you gone out of your way to defend your favorite brand in review websites? Did you defend your favorite detergent or soap? Have you seen how MLM sellers talk about their company? It’s the exact same obsessive way CH loyal fan base talk about the products. They even go out of one's way to respond to negative reviews. 

-If you don’t support them 100% you don’t love them:

I remember there was a discussion regarding a certain product or a certain service offered by CH, or maybe it was a general discussion regarding CH products. One member, let’s call her Wolf Lassie said something not so positive. Instead of acting decently, Magnolia told this member that all her reviews on the CH website are negative and that she didn’t say anything positive for once. This is abhorrent because:

A)Reviews are personal opinions and no one deserves to be chastised for having them.

B)Magnolia claims the shop is different than the forum yet here she is commenting on the forum about something relating to the shop. 

To openly attack someone because they didn’t like your products is problematic. Sometimes her masks falls off and she doesn’t realize it. 

-If you don’t succeed then you’re doing everything wrong: 

MLM likes to attribute their seller’s failures to the sellers not being hardworking enough. It is actually impossible to earn money while being in an MLM scheme. “It’s not the products fault, it’s your own fault” sort of thing. CH spreads this idea too especially through their loyal customers.

Not exclusively elated to CH: The nature of Spirit Keeping itself:

Spirit Keeping is still not widely accepted even though many in the para and meta community indulge in wide different practices. This makes those who practice Spirit Keeping feel isolated, especially from their families since they can’t be open about having spirits. This isolation is the perfect reason to drive spirit keepers into joining groups or clubs but it is the same reason no one around them is supporting them--being alienated from partners, close friends, and families can make people succumb to cults.

PLEASE READ:

The BITE Model:

https://freedomofmind.com/cult-mind-control/bite-model/

The Cult Awareness Network is owned by the church of Scientology:

http://edition.cnn.com/US/9612/19/scientology/

In conclusion, CH may not be a full-blown cult but they do have similarities with cults. Their community is infested with blind followers who for YEARS dedicate their time to run the forum, participate in regurgitating the same crap over and over again, chastise members who dare to question the status quo, fully believe in every word the founders of CH utter, all while Magnolia spends her time trying to control the narrative everywhere to keep the perfect CH image. 

*this is a beautiful song by Bryan Adams. You should listen to it if you haven’t. To take your mind off how horrible cults are. And again, please read about cults and MLMs. 

#creepyhollows #creepy hallows #Spirits #SPIRIT COMPANION #spirit keeping #spirit companionship

[donutloverxo]

NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #steve x reader

[seiyasabi]

The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji. 

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc! 

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. ) 

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something. 

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?” 

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?” 

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!” 

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful! 

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!” 

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab. 

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?” 

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?” 

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down. 

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating. 

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him. 

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

-

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired. 

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you. 

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve! 

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off! 

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does! 

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time. 

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab! 

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try. 

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you! 

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to. 

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so. 

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them. 

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances! 

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications. 

-

Saturday night comes far too soon. 

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside. 

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building. 

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen. 

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar. 

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city. 

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure- 

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you. 

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace. 

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.” 

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.” 

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.” 

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig. 

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting. 

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.” 

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji. 

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them. 

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool. 

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!” 

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately. 

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji. 

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer. 

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding. 

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink. 

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth. 

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee. 

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod. 

“You bet!” 

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all. 

-

You spoke too soon. 

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once. 

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people. 

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession. 

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are. 

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you. 

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute. 

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile. 

#yandere hange #hange zoe #yandere hange zoe #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #hange x reader #hange supremacy #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan x reader

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

[the-himawari]

A3! Sakuma Sakuya - Translation [N] SSR Family

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Citron: That’s Itaru for you. He prepared exactly the amount of VR goggles we need in order to prepare for our roles!

Itaru: Well, I can do that much. I had a few of these to begin with. Besides, I thought I’d like to visit a VR realm together with everyone.

Sakuya: Thank you very much! I can’t wait.

Itaru: Don’t mention it.

Chikage: Well, the original person who said he wanted to go there got too obsessed with his avatar. So it took longer than expected.

Itaru: My bad… Well, without further ado. Sorry for the wait. Now that I’ve made my new avatar, let’s head out.

Masumi: What are we doing first?

Tsuzuru: You said we’re going to experience communicating in a VR space, right?

Itaru: Yep. Starting from someplace great for newbies… Let’s head to a VR realm you can chat in your avatar appearances. Alright, put your goggles on, everyone.

-pause-

Citron: “Ohh! It’s a fantasy town!”

Sakuya: “Amazing…! It feels like we’ve really entered into a fantasy world after putting the VR goggles on!”

Masumi: “There’s lots of other people here too.”

Chikage: “There’s humans, animals and even monsters.”

Citron: “Those are eel snippets!”*

Tsuzuru: “You mean 'evil spirits'. I mean, your avatar is pretty impressive too, you know?”

Itaru: “This is a location where you can have fun VR chatting.” “Go on, Sakuya. Talk to some people in the area.”

Sakuya: “O-Okay! I’m a bit nervous, but this is also role study, right…!” “Alright… E-excuse me…! Good afternoon!”

Human avatar character: “Hi!”

Sakuya: “EHH!?”

Human avatar character: 《Is this your first time here? This town is constructed beautifully, right? 》

Sakuya: “Awawa, s-sorry. I can’t speak English that well!”

Chikage: “He asked if this is your first time coming here. And he remarked the town is built beautifully.”

Sakuya: “Thank you very much, Chikage-san…! Umm, this is my first time here. It’s a really pretty town!”

Chikage: 《Hello. This is our first time visiting here. It really is a pretty little town. 》

Citron: “Chikage’s smoothly translating for us!”

Tsuzuru: “As expected.”

Cat avatar character: 《Your avatar is so cool! 》

Citron: “Ohh!? It’s not English this time!?”

Itaru: “People from lots of different places gather here after all.”

Masumi: “That was probably French? I don’t understand what they’re saying though.”

Chikage: “They complimented Citron’s avatar, saying it’s cool.”

Citron: “Oh! Thank you! I like this avatar too!”

Chikage: 《Thank you. Apparently, this guy likes his avatar too. 》

Elf avatar character: 《Yo! If it's your first time here, then the item shops and flower gardens over there are really nice and I recommend them! 》

Sakuya: “W-which language is it this time!?”

Itaru: “Italian… I think?”

Chikage: “They said that if it’s our first time here, then the item shops and flower gardens are nice and they recommend them.”

Tsuzuru: “Oh, I see! Thank you for letting us know.”

Sakuya: “I think we’ll definitely take a look together!”

Chikage: 《Oh, really? Thank you for letting us know. I think we’ll definitely take a look together. 》

Masumi: “Chikage’s translating everything.”

Tsuzuru: “Chikage-san showing off his high specs…”

Itaru: “Senpai really is a cheat character.”

---

*Citron originally says "耳モーモー" (mimimomo), which Tsuzuru corrects as "魑魅魍魎" (chimimoryou: evil mountain and river spirits).

#a3! #a3! translation #sakuma sakuya #act! addict! actors!

[choicesficwriterscreations]

600 Followers: Meet The Writer

Welcome to another Meet The Writer Q&A! We reached 600 followers! Yay!

We’re grateful to all of you who continue to share your work with us and support the fanfic authors of the fandom. As usual, a writer was randomly selected to share a little something of their work with us. And today the writer is one of our mods, congratulations Elsa!

Blog: @JerZwriter Name (and/or petname): Elsa Birthday: February Current residency: USA Languages you speak: English and a little Spanish Masterlist/AO3/Choices Fanfic Archive: Masterlist , AO3 

1- Is there a meaning behind your url name?

When I joined the fandom/started writing fanfic, I was SUCH a newbie and did so many dumb things. I had no idea what to do regarding a name, so I went with JerZwriter, because I’m from New Jersey, and I’m writing. 😊

2- When did you start playing Choices? What’s the first book you played?

I started playing about four years ago, and the first book I played was The Royal Romance.

3- When did you decide to join Choices fandom?

I guess about two years ago when I joined some groups on another platform. But I didn’t become very active until this last summer.

4- Go back to your archive and tell us what was your first post on your Choices blog was about.

It was the first chapter of my series, Delaying the Inevitable. Looking back, I can’t believe I took on such a big project as my first attempt at writing fanfic, but I don’t have any regrets. It’s been a great learning experience.

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Five months.

6- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it or would you change anything about it?

See question number four; that’s the one! It’s actually a very long series that is still a WIP.  I’ve always thought of it more like a TV show with episodes than a novel or book. I put out a chapter a week, and I’m currently on chapter 25. It probably has 5-7 chapters left, and it will (finally) be over. Writing this story has been such a fantastic experience. Some of my readers are very engaged with it, and I love our weekly conversations about it.

7- What are your favorite Choices books to write about?

So far, the only one I have written for is Open Heart, which is my absolute favorite Choices book.  But I may want to try writing for others in the future.

8- What is your specialty as a fanfic writer?

That is a tricky question because I feel like my readers could answer it better than I can.  But I would probably say angst because that’s what people associate me with the most, which is funny because I actually write more fluff than angst, but I guess the angst sticks with them.  I get a lot of feedback that my readers really feel my characters' emotions, which means a lot to me.

9- If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

That is an even more challenging question because balance is a key to being a good writer. Switching off really helps me when I need to feel creative. Also, my favorite thing is angst with a happy ending, which kind of becomes fluff then, doesn’t it? If I had to pick, I’d say angst because I think it’s where I’m strongest, and I always want to dig deeper into the character’s emotions. I love fluff, but it doesn’t satisfy me (as a writer, not a reader) as much. I have also written more smut since starting, and for some reason, people tend to like it, but I’m still feel like hiding under my bed a bit every time I post it.

10- Do you ever recognize yourself in what you write?

I try not to do that. Especially in fanfic, where I want to stay as loyal to the characters as much as I can, but I think it’s impossible for parts of me to not slip in there at times. Of course, the place where it’s most likely to occur is with my MC. While there may be elements of me in her, she is by far not “like” me at all.

11- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think setting. I think I’m better at describing feelings than I am at describing things.

12- Is there any neglected work of yours you wished you would finish?

When the Bough Breaks, and I have promised myself I will finish it before the end of the month. It was a very emotional story to write, and that, coupled with DTI, just got to be a little too much for me, so I put it aside. It bothers me that’s it is not completed, so again, October 31st is my deadline!

13- If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them?

It depends on the person. I am not remotely ashamed of writing fanfic, but I wouldn’t share it with anyone who would be judgmental of the fact that I do. Recommendations would also depend on who it was. I have a non-fandom friend who asked to read any smut I write, so if it were someone like her, that’s what they’d get. I’d probably give them All Yours or Their Plus One. If someone had a lot of time on their hands, I’d recommend Delaying the Inevitable. But if they wanted a quick read, A Second Chance or maybe Just Until Midnight. However, some of the upcoming chapters of my Tobias & Casey AU would probably be on the list too.

14- Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

Hmmm, hard to give a published author because I have so many that I adore, but I wouldn’t say they influence my fanfic writing. However, Jennifer Weiner does come to mind. I love her writing because it’s real, funny, and imperfect romance, and I strive to bring that into my fanfics. As for fanfic writers, I have to go with two women who inspired me to try doing this in the first place. I read them before I ever got a Tumblr account, and I could honestly feel just how     much they love their characters. Then, when OH ended, it was inspiring to see how they were keeping the story going, keeping the fandom alive, and I wanted to try to do that a little bit myself, even if I never do it as well. So, Bree and Bex @jamespotterthefirst​ and @bex-la-get​), thank you so much for leading me here and thank you even more for your support and encouragement since I have been writing. You have no idea how much it has meant to me. While I was unfamiliar with her writing before I came to Tumblr, I fell in love with @alwaysmychoices​’s works. She makes me feel what Charlie feels in my soul. After reading a few compelling pieces, the feelings stayed with me for days. I try to bring that into my writing, but I will never do it remotely as well.

15- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Delaying the Inevitable, without question.

16- Do you write original stories?

Yes. Mostly short stories, but I have written one larger work that I would love to update someday. I am in the process of (trying to find time to) write a book based on friendship, where romance plays a secondary role. It’s not autobiographical, but it is based on me and a longtime friend who recently died. So, while it is full of warm and funny moments, it is quite angsty, but with a very positive message.

Thank you Elsa for participating! And thank you who got this far for reading! Reblog to share your appreciation for @jerzwriter​! 😄

#meet the writer #cfwc meet the writer #choices fic writers creations #600 followers

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que? #in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

[spencerreidsmiles]

A Little Clumsy

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

Hello hello, my lovelies! I have once again been absolutely grinding at school (and now work too woohoo) so I have had like zero motivation to write but I finally finished one of my anon requests!

They requested prompts 7, 28, and 42 off the General list on this here prompt list! Those will be bolded throughout the story.  

Short summary - It’s the first day of work at the BAU for the reader but when their clumsiness gets the better of them, Spencer Reid is there to save the day. 

Trigger Warnings - blood (like the whole thing is about blood so if blood is a trigger for you, seriously do not read this one), minor injury, strong language, embarrassment

Word Count - 1386

MASTERLIST // WATTPAD VERSION

Sometimes you were clumsy. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. You were more often than not clumsy. So when you began your first day at the BAU walking right into a wall and collapsing onto your ass, thus spilling coffee all over yourself, you weren’t surprised, to say the least. Frustrated, yes, but surprised, no. 

However, that sentiment wasn’t exactly shared by everyone, it appeared. In your dizzy haze, you felt a thud as someone knelt down next to you. 

“Is that blood?” the stranger asked. 

You touched your nose with your fingers, red decorating your fingertips. Whoever was talking to you was right, there was blood. Your white shirt, now a light shade of brown-ish beige, was sticky against your chest. Blood and coffee all over your new clothes on your first day of work? How could it go any better? 

To be honest, you weren’t really concerned about the blood right now. This whole scenario had happened enough times that this was essentially a regular occurrence for you. Instead, you were more concerned about the fact that this was the impression you were going to be making on all your colleagues. What were you supposed to do, just walk into the meeting room absolutely drenched in the last bit of your latte and blood and just act normal and introduce yourself? Yeah, because nothing screamed “qualified special agent” like a klutz banging their head into a literal wall. Surely whoever hired you was regretting their decision now. If you were them, you would. 

You had to save your pride somehow. The least you could do would be to find a bathroom and try to clean yourself up as much as possible before meeting your coworkers. 

But first, you had to deal with whoever had watched you slam your head into the wall. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” you said, sighing. 

“You are literally bleeding,” he stated again. 

You pushed your arms back, propping you up and allowing you the opportunity to take a good look at him. 

Even in your dazed state, you could tell that he was attractive. He was tall, first of all. He towered over you, his brown curls fell over his face as stared at you, clearly concerned. And his eyes. Jesus, his eyes. You could melt into them. 

No. No, stop it. You thought to yourself. This was not the time to be crushing on whoever the hell literally watched you walk into a wall. There were more important things at hand unfortunately. 

“Well thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said bitingly. The pain was beginning to hit you a bit more. You hadn’t thought you’d broken your nose...but the steady swelling was beginning to change your mind. 

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he responded with complete seriousness as he stared even more intently at your nose. 

“Sorry?”

His eyes flickered from your nose, meeting your gaze. 

“It’s Doctor. Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

Shit. You knew that name. Dr. Reid. One of your new coworkers, of course. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Doctor Obvious then. Wouldn’t want you to lose your credentials.” Dr. Reid didn’t seem to be affected at all by your little joke. You shot him a weak grin, which he did not return. Great. Everything was going great. Clearly. 

“What’s your name again?” he asked. 

“Dr. Reid, are you flirting with me?” you teased. As if anyone could think you look pretty in this mess of brown and red. 

“No! No, of course not. I just want to know so when I submit an injury report, I can have a name to put down.” An injury report? Oh hell no. You were already going to be known as the newbie who walked into a wall and maybe broke their nose, you didn’t need to be known as the newbie who walked into a wall, possibly broke their nose, AND had to have their new coworker fill out an injury report on their first day. 

“Pssh, they don’t need to know. It’s just a little blood and a little bruise. No big deal. I’m completely fine.”

You waved your hand about, swatting him off. It was nothing, just a bad nosebleed basically. A bad nosebleed with a side of a headache that was really starting to ramp up and throb incessantly. Gosh, you really just slammed right into that wall, didn’t you?

Nonetheless, you persisted. You popped up onto your feet as Dr. Reid stood up as well with a horrified look on his face.  

“You hit your head pretty hard, I’m not sure that’s the best idea-” Dr. Reid stammered. 

He was right, again. Standing up this fast was a bit too much, it appeared. Almost immediately, you completely lost all your balance. Your head spun as you fell, of course, right into Dr. Reid’s arms, effectively burying your nose right into his sweater. Apparently the day could get worse.

As you just stayed there, both of you completely frozen in place and completely unaware as to what to do next, you took a deep breath. 

“Okay, so maybe you were right,” you admitted. 

For a second that felt more like a minute at least, it was dead silent. Well, if you hadn’t made a bad impression on Dr. Reid yet, surely this was the final straw. You had calculated an about 100% chance of Dr. Reid running off to tell your boss that they had truly made the worst mistake in hiring you. The ideal first day, really. 

Slowly, Dr. Reid propped you back on your feet. You were still a bit woozy and your nose was throbbing fairly bad, so you clutched onto him for a second to settle yourself down. His arms wrapped around your back, holding you tight.  

It was only after you pulled yourself away that you realized just how much of a mess you had made out of Dr. Reid’s sweater. Right where you had buried your face was now a giant splotch of red from your nose. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologized. You tried wiping off whatever schmutz you could off his clothes with your own sleeves, but you only smeared it further and further in. God, you were just an absolute mess, weren’t you? Good grief. 

But instead of glaring at you, you saw the kindest eyes crinkling with laughter. Like the sunlight breaking through clouds, you heard Dr. Reid’s laugh ring out loud and clear. The sound itself warmed your heart God, if he was handsome before, then what was he now? Whatever he was, it was safe enough to say, you were absolutely head over-fucking-heels for your savior. 

“I’ll be honest, I was waiting for a reason to get rid of this sweater. So thank you for giving me a reason to.” He glanced down at the splotch before looking back at your worried face. “Don’t feel bad, things like this happen.”

“You’ve had someone run into a wall and bleed onto your shirt before?” you asked with a heavy emphasis on your incredulity. 

His cheeks and ears brightened a light pink shade. “Well not exactly, but we’re all a little clumsy sometimes.”

You checked your watch. Almost nine, aka almost time for you to meet the team and officially start your first day of work. Starting a new job just like this. Wow. You were so screwed. 

Either you had the world’s worst poker face or Dr. Reid was just really good at his job, but immediately after watching you check your watch, his shyness faded away and his voice softened as he spoke.  

“Hey, how about you go home and get cleaned up and I’ll tell the team you’ll be a little late.”

“Are you sure? What if they ask about…” You gestured around vaguely at his shirt. 

He shrugged. “I’ll just tell them you made a strong first impression.”

You let out a relieved laugh. “That’s one way to put it,” you said. “Thank you.”

As you began to walk to the elevator, you thought about Dr. Reid and his kindness and eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps this first day wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. That he was right, everyone was a little clumsy sometimes. And that was okay.

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