#trying to think of an actual IC application

[milo-is-rambling]

Woke up from a nap in the middle of a panic attack because my mom was moving furniture around in the living room and hitting stuff off my bedroom wall while moving the bird cages and while in this panicked state trying to remember where I was what time it was and that it was in fact not my dad cleaning the bird cages on the other side of the wall I decided I NEEDED to digitally submit an application for the same snowcone place I brought a physical application in cause they never got back to me and the actual adults who run the place said they never got a hold of the physical copy I left (thank you teenagers who work there who never gave them my application that was super cool and swag of you 😑) so now I'm on the verge of a panic attack about getting my life together while waiting for my Apple Pencil to charge so I can fill out the application on my iPad and this all happened because I woke up from a dream about traveling the United States in my van and no one knowing my name or my backstory and being able to lie to strangers and when I woke up it felt like I needed to run away as soon as possible or the world would end so now I'm back to trying to make money

#my room is clean. I'm gonna send the application and then shower and then go get a snowcone and hopefully the actual owners will be working #they sometimes do on weekends #I'm gonna tell them I emailed in an application and be super normal and sweet and not have a panic attack and then I'm gonna eat a snowcone #in my car at the lake and hopefully not cry or throw up #🙃​👍🏻 #i just need money so I can get the fuck out of here and have no one know who I am #and if I don't end up working at the snowcone place I think I might try to work at library or this other ice cream place in town that is #quite literally shaped like a giant ice cream cone and that's not at all an embarassing place to work at all #driving to the giant ice cream cone to clock in to work seems very very not weird or embarassing at all #*blink* *blink* *blink* #in my head I am slow blinking while looking directly at you while you slowly stop laughing and realize that I am stupid for having that be #an actual concern in my weird fucked up brain. i worked at a Halloween store with a circus tent themed room but working in🍦 is embarassing #god my #brain is weird #can you tell I'm nervous about sending in the application and simply rambling #i think typing on my phone is low key an anxiety stim thing with my brain cause when I am the most stressed I love brain vomiting on myphone #it's just not the same as writing stuff writing is meant for passion and anger but anxiety is made for tiny internet rectangle in my hand

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 3 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: almost posted this with a missing part 💀 anyways, enjoy! (Ramadan Mubarak to my practicing babes!)

W/C: 3.782

part two

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you here?"

We both exclaim at the same time, his hand cradling his shocked face as I look at him with my own wide eyes.

I glance at my dad; he doesn't look all too happy. I avert my gaze to Jude's mom, gulping down whatever saliva I have left in my now-dry mouth.

I actually had quite a few nice interactions with her during matches. We'd always talk when we bumped into each other. I not-so-shockingly got along more with his mom than Jude himself.

But this...

This isn't a nice interaction whatsoever.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

"I am so sorry. As you might know, y/n is insanely clumsy." My dad begins, his hand on Jude's back. He manages to guide him further into his firm.

I'm left standing alone with Jude's mom as we stare at each other for a second. My body stiffening in fear of what she might say.

"I am so sorry-" I start rambling, feeling my palms become sweaty.

I was more sorry to her than her son, to be completely honest.

I watch her eyes warm up immediately, her hand reaching over to place her hand on my shoulder.

"I think he'll be alright. Are you? Looked painful there." She says, her eyes full of concern as she squeezes my shoulder.

"I'm fine, perfect." I blurt, neglecting the pain in my own ankle and look behind her.

I was so dead.

I try to not look too nosy when I sit at the secretary's desk outside of my dad's office. Peering inside sneakily through the huge glass panels. Watching Jude and his mom sit across from him, a couple documents placed on the table they're sitting at.

I do make eye contact with an injured-looking Jude. He looks pissed, nodding his head repeatedly to whatever my dad was saying while holding up a pink ice pack to his head.

A sight that could be seen as comical, if I ignored the fact that I was the one who had caused it.

Thankfully, both of our parents don't notice the death stare we're giving each other, totally immersed into- what I assume, important conversation.

Come to think of it, why were they even here today?

It could only be the stalker incident.

I'm brought out of my thoughts quickly by a hand knocking on my desk.

"Stop staring already."

Luckily, ‘my-ego-is-bigger-than-my-head' Jude had returned just in time before I started to genuinely feel bad.

I lean back in my chair, eyes skimming his face for any bruises or blood. Not noticing anything unusual yet.

"It hurt, didn't it?" I ask, wanting to laugh. The situation unfolded so ridiculously fast, it felt like a camera prank waiting to be revealed.

"You could've messed with my face!" He replies in a hushed voice, his Brummie accent thick as he leans over the desk.

"Should I hit the other side? Just to make it even.” I smile, standing up and going to stand in front of him. Ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle.

He looks at me in disbelief, cocking a brow at me.

"What are you even doing here? Got sued for being insufferable?"

"Very creative with your insults.." I mock, pointing towards my dad's office. Seeing his mom and my dad still talking to each other.

"That's my dad."

"That's your dad?" He repeats, brows furrowing. He points at me, a little too disrespectfully, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Yes, that is my dad." I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"That's why you look so close with Ancelotti?" He gasps. "That's how you got the job!" He assumes, an accusatory finger pointed at me as he steps closer to me.

"No, and that's actually none of your business." I state, leaning back so his hand doesn't touch me.

I got the job after I submitted an anonymous application a little after I had returned from London. It was only just to try out my luck, but I was surprised when I got an email back for an actual interview.

I understood the assumption totally, and I wouldn't say I knew exactly a hundred percent that they didn't know who I was.

Most I could go off of was that I never told my dad I applied for the job. Later also finding out that the Real Madrid executives don't really look at job applications. They had other people do that. So the nepotism possibility was very small.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head.

His expression immediately drops, his gaze averting.

"None of your business." He repeats my answer, mocking my tone.

"Okay, I guess not." I sigh, throwing my hands up in defeat, hearing footsteps come our way.

"Have you guys made up? You and Jude must be closer than I thought." His mom says, smiling at me.

I force a smile, nodding at her. My expression changing immediately.

"Yes, we made up. Right Jude?" I look at him, putting on my sweetest face.

"Sure." He mutters, turning to my dad.

"I didn't know she was your daughter. How do you deal with her?"

I was about to rip the door off its hinges and slam the door into his face again.

"She's a handful, isn't she? Troublemaker since she was little." My dad says, and I look at him shocked, as if he'd just betrayed our entire lineage.

No, I was not!

I step in between them before my dad ruins my image even more. Looking at Jude's mom in particular.

"Should we have some coffee?"

"So, what brings you two here? Not something horrible, I hope.” I pry, setting down the plastic tray of cups on the table.

I glance at my dad for a moment, placing a cup of coffee in front of everyone before sitting next to him, across from Jude and his mom.

"We had an incident in our home. Police are still investigating, but we were advised by the club to contact your dad for any legal action." His mom explains.

I was right.

"Oh, that must’ve been terrifying. Are you both alright?"

"We weren't home, but it definitely shook us a bit."

I nod in acknowledgment, taking a sip of my coffee as I take her words in.

"I know my dad and his team of lawyers will be very helpful. Both criminal and corporate law, the best in the city." I brag, winking, putting a hand on my dad's shoulder.

"y/n.." my dad warns, bellow a whisper, giving me a side eye.

I hear his mom chuckling and avert my gaze to her with a raised brow.

"You know- you've got to take compliments, especially from your daughter." She smiles, bringing the cup up to her lips.

My eyes move over to Jude. He's slumping in his chair, looking insanely uninterested in the conversation. I think I even caught him grimacing when I spoke.

The conversation his mom and my dad have practically fades in the background for a second. My mind wandering to random thoughts as I look to the side.

I only redirect my attention when I hear my name, followed by Jude's.

"-to work together?" My dad says, and I look back at Jude. Motioning for him to answer whatever my dad had asked. He doesn't say a single word, prompting me to discreetly kick him underneath the table.

'What?' He mouths at me, then he looks at my dad.

"It's very fun to work with y/n. She's such an interesting character." He answers, bright smile on his lips.

How backhanded could a compliment be?

"Yeah, so fun. Jude's has his moments, but we get along so well." I bite back, my tone sweet as ever. Holding back a wince as I feel him step on my shoe underneath the table.

"Oh, that's great.." His mom trails off, her eyes flickering in between us.

"Jude and y/n will be seeing each other a lot. As she's traveling closely with the team this season." My dad says proudly, this time putting his hand on my shoulder.

"That's even better. You can improve your Spanish faster with her help, Jude." His mom adds, causing a forced smile to form on his face.

"Yeah, that's very nice." He comments, sitting up and straightening his posture.

Our very nice conversation finally ends. My father and I standing up to follow them out of the firm.

"Lovely having you, Mrs. Bellingham." I say, extending my hand.

"You too, y/n." She says smiling, giving me a firm hand.

I smile, letting go of her hand, watching our parents shake each other's hands. I then look away, standing awkwardly in front of Jude.

"See you tomorrow, Jude." I mumble; it pains me physically to be nice to him.

"See you." He says, already walking away. His back turned to me as he stands outside.

After many greetings, my dad finally closes the door behind them, slowly turning to me.

"Really? What kind of show were you putting on?" He begins, throwing his hands up.

"Dad! You have to check this door out. I tried to open it like three times, and the key barely turned!" I explain, speaking hurriedly.

"I swear, it wasn't on purpose. I didn't even know they were here!" I add, trying to defend myself further.

"Let's just go home..." He mutters walking back into his office, collecting his laptop bag and a couple documents.

I sigh, following behind him like a lost puppy. Slowly becoming more aware of the pain in my ankle.

"Where is everybody?"

"We finished this big case successfully, and I sent everyone home early. I had to stay back because of this appointment." He turns to me.

"Why are you here, though?"

"I wanted to visit and work on that essay."

"You're still not done with it?" He asks, locking his office door.

"No.." I reply guilty, fidgeting with the stack of bracelets on my wrist.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pushing me towards the entrance.

"I'll cook fresh tonight, and you'll work on that essay. What do you say?"

I crack a smile at his words, nodding.

"Deal! I would love some lasagna right now."

"I think- I'm going to faint."

I look up from my phone, frowning at Luis. The sun beaming down on our faces as we try to collect ourselves.

"No, you're not. You're going to show him how much of a professional you are with a camera." I say, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

We had received a very detailed email after agreeing to capture Apple CEO Tim Cook's visit to the club. This led us to stand in front of the training pitch, as we were instructed to film and take pictures of Cook interacting with the players.

Normally, we had timed posts that got posted automatically via an automated system.

This time, I had to live update the social media accounts of the club. Doing it all alone with Luis this time was a new experience.

We had only done it with approval for edits and drafts, and of course, goals that were scored or unexpected things that happened during matches.

"Take a deep breath and turn your camera on."

I say checking the time and posting another story on the club's Instagram before looking up.

We make sure to capture everything perfectly and move quickly to post the footage online.

After a few, excruciating fifteen minutes, we finally finish filming. Thinking Cook and President Pérez would just walk away, until they started approaching us. My own nerves building up as I glance at Luis who looks like he's about to actually lose it.

"Get your shit together, dude." I whisper, plastering a smile on my face as I finally shake Cook's hand. President Pérez also extending his hand as I shake it, a little more careful of my actions.

I wish I could just ask for a new MAC and a hundred million euros.

"Nice to meet you, sir. I'm y/n. Part of PR and marketing." I grip Cook's hand firmly, looking into his blue eyes through his black-rimmed glasses.

"Likewise." He responds, shaking Luis' hand as well.

"So, you two are the brains behind the genius team?" Cook asks, looking in between the two of us.

"Very flattering, but we have an amazing team beside us. We've been chosen today for our recent hard work. Though, I would say- Luis here is definitely one of the best, if not the best cameraman to work with." I say, trying to speak in the most polite way possible, smiling kindly.

I had never sucked up to someone this hard, but it had to be done.

I watch Cook's gaze move over to Luis, looking impressed.

"Well, I've seen what you've put out. My biggest reason to visit is definitely because of your team. As you have might have heard, I am very impressed by the amount of growth this football club has had on social media. I think you two definitely deserve to take some of that credit."

"Thank you, sir. We do appreciate that." Luis says, and I watch his facial expression intently.

He was really good at pretending to be okay.

"Right, then we will make our way back inside." President Pérez interrupts. We nod almost immediately, giving them a polite smile as they walk away.

We both watch them leave our proximity. Then look at each other with a blank stare before I witness Luis burst out in laughter.

"I've never heard you speak so sweetly."

"What should I have done. Call them 'dude!' or 'mate!'. Besides, I just gassed you up in front of the CEO of Apple. Thank me at least." I say, scoffing, checking the analytics of the posts before looking back up at the training pitch.

"Thank you. You're the best." He mutters, giving me a side hug.

"I know.." I say teasingly, shoving my phone in my pocket.

"Is it me, or did these guys just start training like their lives depended on it?" I laugh, seeing almost all of them fully drenched in sweat.

"Well, they had to impress the president as well."

I nod at Luis' answer, finally seeing Ancelotti dismiss the team. We watch them stop training, hearing some sighs of relief.

I hear someone call out to us, and we look around confused. Eventually, my eyes lock with Cama's.

"Yeah?" I shout back, watching him jog our way. Of course, the young French duo completes as Aurélien follows him.

« Comment c'était? » How was it?

Eduardo asks, a bright smile on his face as he still looks, very obviously tired.

« C'était bien, ce n'était pas très difficile. » It was good, not that hard. 

I boast, seeing Luis look partially lost in the corner of my vision. I was sure he could make out some words, though.

« vraiment? » really?

Aurélien chimes in, having heard the first few sentences from afar.

"We were a little nervous, but I think we handled it nicely." I wink, jabbing Luis as if he could follow.

"What's with the French?" I hear, seeing the person I'd seen enough of this week already.

I watch Eduardo throw an arm around Jude's shoulder, bringing him into the circle.

"Just talking." He says, the atmosphere turning awkward for a moment.

My phone starts ringing right at that second. I quickly reach for my phone and read the caller ID.

'Hugo (PR)'

I show the phone to Luis for a moment, as he nods, giving me the go ahead.

I walk a couple meters away for privacy, then pick up the call. My walk a little off as my ankle still hurts. Only because of Thursday’s debacle. I don't even know why I didn't get it checked out yet.

The call lasts a couple of minutes, and I walk back to the group of guys. Looking at Luis in particular.

"Luis, we need to go meet Hugo. He wants a debrief on how everything went."

"We will see you guys during lunch." I say to the players, bending down to unzip the equipment bag, helping Luis pack the camera.

"Why do you walk so weird?" I suddenly hear Jude say, his voice filled with curiosity as I look up.

I sigh in annoyance, rolling my eyes, before standing up and handing Luis a battery he had to pack.

"Remember when I smacked the door into your face?" I say, hearing confused noises coming from the guys next to us. I ignore them, focused on rolling up a cable semi-aggressively while looking at Jude.

"You weren't the only one in pain, hurt my own ankle as well." I mutter, still pissed about the incident.

He doesn't respond, continuing to look at me blankly. Prompting me to ignore him further.

"You guys need any help?" I hear Aurélin say, and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine; we're used to it." I smile, muttering a quick 'bye' before Luis and I go inside, mentally preparing for the debrief.

"That was not the best I've seen." I whisper to Luis, as his face looked understandably grim.

"I don't even want to know what the mood in the changing room is like."

We were making our way to our cars in the parking lot after the disappointing 1-3 defeat against Atletico Madrid.

We were done with shooting content and decided to leave early. More people wandering around with cameras and all would probably be even more of a nuance to the players after a defeat like this.

"Just turn on a song. That is the only way we can forget about the pain." I half-joke as we unlock our respective cars. Both conveniently parked next to each other.

"What? Are you playing Future again?"

"Exactly."

Unlike the match on Sunday, the match against Las Palmas ended successfully with a 2-0 win for Real Madrid. The players finally made their way inside after a celebration with their proud fans, walking up the stairs through their stadium tunnel. Jude walking alongside his teammates into the changing room.

His eyes catch Luis interviewing his teammate and Man Of The Match, Joselu. He looks around for a second, not seeing the girl he'd grown accustomed to fighting with every time they interacted. Confused as to why she wasn't doing her usual post-match task.

Ignoring his brewing thoughts, he walks into the changing room. He hears his name being shouted halfway through taking his sweaty shirt off. Looking up to find Antonio looking at his arm.

"Your arm is bleeding, man. Get it treated at the nurse." Antonio suggests, patting his shoulder.

He nods, thanking the man. He puts his T-shirt on carefully, trying not to make contact with the wound. Dressed in a clean shirt, he steps out of the changing room. Walking through the hallways and knocking on the door of the medical room before opening it.

No medical personnel is in sight. Though, he does see someone curled up in a blanket on one of the treatment beds.

The person raises her head to check out who entered, a groan leaving her lips in dissatisfaction as she spots a confused Jude.

"Why are you here?" He asks, eyes roaming on her defeated figure.

"I'm dying, obviously." She mumbles, burying her head deeper into the pillow.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Fuck off.." She replies, pulling the blanket closer. Not in the mood to entertain him.

"Where is the nurse?" He asks, sitting across from her on the other treatment bed.

"Left to get me some ibuprofen." She replies, feeling more pain in her lower stomach. Unable to hold back a pained groan, she rests her head down again.

His eyes soften for a moment, but he tenses up when he hears the door open. A male nurse looks at him curiously as he walks into the room.

Still, the nurse prioritizes the sick y/n, helping her take the ibuprofen with a gentle hand on her back, accompanied by a glass of water.

Jude stares at the two, his eyes following the nurse’s movements like a hawk.

"Do you require treatment?" The nurse asks in Spanish, turning towards Jude when he sets the cup down.

He looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights, recognizing some words, but not enough to understand the entire sentence.

"He's asking if you need treatment." He hears y/n translate, her body slumped against the bed.

He nods immediately, showing off his arm. Dark red blood dribbling down to his elbow.

He watches the nurse’s eyes light up, getting the required equipment and bandaging his wound within a couple minutes.

"Gracias." He mutters, fidgeting with the bandage as the nurse cleans up the equipment.

He watches the nurse leave, his eyes darting back to y/n across from him.

Jude raises his eyebrows in interest as she turns around in the bed. Frown on her own face. The thin blanket not covering her body anymore.

An unusual concern for the girl starts brewing in his chest, he tries to shake it off. Look away, but he can't help but look again when he hears her shift again. Now, with her back turned towards him.

He stands up, walking towards her. His body moving on autopilot, his brain screaming at him for a clear reason why he should care about her or help her willingly.

Seeing her shiver slightly, Jude looks at the end of the bed, seeing the blanket jammed in between the mattress and bed frame. He glances at her one more time before grabbing the blanket, pulling it out from in between the bed and then quickly draping it over her body.

She doesn't react, drowsy enough to not notice. It making it the perfect moment for him to book it out of the room.

He almost has a heart attack when he crosses Luis, probably on his way to check up on his coworker in the medical room.

He sees Luis look at him for a second but avoids eye contact, continuing to just booking it into the changing room.

Why did he even do that?

His brain scrambles for a reason, all kinds of thoughts whirling in his mind, quickly chalking it up to having morals, the ones his parents taught him since he was a young boy.

You had to have morals, even when you mutually despised each other so much, right?

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

[nanawritesit]

Twice Enemies to Lovers Imagines/ AUs

TW: making out (momo and tzuyu) corruption themes (momo) mentions of killing (sana) revolutionary themes (sana) mentions of daggers and knives (sana and dahyun) reader is kidnapped and tied up (dahyun) sharing a bed (tzuyu) partial nudity (tzuyu) neck kissing (tzuyu) light swearing

Nayeon: Former Best Friends

Your jaw hit the floor as your next applicant walked into your office for an interview. It was Im Nayeon, your high school best friend who ditched you freshman year to become a cheerleader with all the popular girls. To make matters worse, you had always secretly been in love with her. Not that you would ever admit that to yourself.

“Nice to see you again, Im.” you said flatly, flipping through her resume as she sat down in front of your desk.

She looked confused. “I’m sorry sir/ma’am, but I’m not sure what you…” You glared up at her with ice cold eyes, and suddenly she remembered. “Oh, Y/N… I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you…” she stammered meekly.

“Doesn’t surprise me. You hardly acknowledged me after you became the ‘it girl’ of our high school.” you resigned, folding your hands together on your desk. “So, what have you been up to since high school?”

She chuckled uncomfortably, eyes shifting to the ground. “Well, I was at university, but… things didn’t work out this semester.”

“So you’re looking for a job just until the end of the semester?” you asked, trying to sound as professional as possible.

“I’m not sure… But I’ll at least need a job until the end of the year. I’m living back home now.” she explained. “I need a job in the worst way, and to be honest I’m really relieved that you’re the owner of this place.”

You cleared your throat, closing up her resume and looking at her sternly. “So you think that just because you were super popular in school and I wasn’t that I’ll immediately hire you at my restaurant?”

“No, no! Not at all!” she insisted, eyes widening. “It’s just… you’re a very kind person. And you’ve always had a way of making me feel calm. I always remembered that, even if I didn’t recognize you at first.”

You winced. There she went again, making you feel special. It scared you how easily her praise still got to you.

“Oh… sorry for jumping to conclusions.” you mumbled.

“No, it’s alright…” she reassured you, seemingly okay with taking all the blame. “I’m really sorry we drifted apart. I never meant to hurt you. You were actually the person I cared about more than anything. I just thought you wouldn’t want to be friends with a cheerleader given how much we used to make fun of them.”

You glanced at the ground nervously. You were kind of a pick-me in high school. Not that it was your fault, you were just conditioned to be that way. In high school, you were either popular, or you hated everything related to being popular.

“I understand.” you told her. “It was quite a long time ago.”

“See… I’m not doing well in my classes, and my parents said I can’t move back home unless I find a job first.” she explained, eyes locking in on yours. “Please, consider me.”

Her pretty eyes were sparkling with need the way they always did, and your last reserve finally cracked at the sight of them.

“Okay, okay, the job is yours.” you told her, a reluctant smile appearing on your face.

“Really?” she asked, a huge grin breaking out on her face. “Oh, thank you so much!” She stood up to shake your hand making you laugh.

“No problem. Can you start tomorrow?” you asked, still sitting at your desk.

“Yes, I’ll be here!” she chirped, grabbing her bag. “You won’t regret this, I promise!”

Once she shut the door behind her, you plopped your head down on your desk, releasing a huge sigh. “Oh, I most likely will.”

Jeongyeon: Bad First Impression

You were running horribly late for your first day on the job. You had gotten an internship at a high end company, and were expected to bring everyone coffee in the morning. So now, you were carrying a carrier full of four huge iced coffees while sprinting down the sidewalk. You could see your building in the distance, all you had to do was turn one corner and you would make it to work on time!

That was, until you actually turnt the corner and slammed straight into a girl who was walking while on her phone. All four of the iced coffees splashed between the two of you, ruining both of your outfits.

“Oh my gosh, watch where you’re going!” she screeched, wiping coffee off her face.

“Me?” you questioned, fixing your hair. “You’re the one who wasn’t looking where you were going! Maybe if you weren’t glued to your phone, we wouldn’t be covered in coffee right now!”

She scoffed. “Well maybe if you weren’t running with a carrier full of coffees…”

You both stopped what you were doing as your eyes locked in on each other. She was absolutely gorgeous, the kind that makes your heart stop beating. She seemed to be caught off guard by you as well, the two of you just staring at each other blankly for a moment.

“I’m sorry, this was totally my fault.” you chuckled, adjusting your bag. “I shouldn’t have been running down the sidewalk.”

“No, you’re right, it was stupid to be on my phone while I was walking. I’m sorry for not paying attention.” she refuted, laughing along with you. “I’m Jeongyeon, by the way.”

“Y/N.” you told her, shaking her hand. “I’m sorry I covered you in coffee. I’m just running horribly late for my first day on the job…” you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Although I’m sure I can kiss it goodbye now, as I’m either going to show up soaked in coffee or an hour late.”

“I’m really sorry about that…” she said sympathetically. “Where’s the job?”

“Right behind us, actually.” you laughed, gesturing behind you.

“Oh my gosh, I work here!” she told you exasperatedly. “In the administrative department!”

“That’s where I’m interning!” you gasped, a hopeful smile making its way onto your face.

“This is perfect. I’ll just call the office and say that someone ran into the two of us while we were walking in, and that we had to go change clothes.” she suggested.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver!” you sighed in relief, placing a hand affectionately on her arm. “Are you sure they’ll accept that as an excuse though?”

“Oh please, everyone here loves me. My word is law.” she giggled, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Now, let’s go get you some fresh clothes and new coffees, okay? I’ll even buy my own, since I’m pretty sure one of them was.”

You laughed along with her, letting her lead you down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Somehow, you had made an enemy, ally, and crush all in the same day. Lord help you in navigating this relationship.

Momo: Angel/ Demon AU

You bit your tongue in anger. Things were not going well with your latest assignment. You were trying to be a guardian angel to a certain human to improve their life. However, this human also happened to be under the influence of a demon. Not only a demon, but one of the most powerful demonesses in your department. Momo Hirai.

“Something wrong, angel?” a sultry voice asked. You whipped around to see her standing at the entryway of your human’s living room. You could see them, but they couldn’t see you. She was absolutely captivating, with her dark hair, ruby red lips, and tight black dress.

Remembering yourself, you looked away. “As a matter of fact, yes. You are.” you spat, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Oh, I didn’t know you thought about me so much.” she grinned, stepping closer to you. “I wonder what twisted little fantasies are running through that pretty little head.”

“You wish.” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “I happen to be a being of purity.

“How boring…” Momo sighed, stopping in front of you, who was leaned against the wall. “I figured someone like you would feel really repressed. Nothing causes the mind to wander more than being cooped up with a bunch of puritans.”

You swallowed hard. How had she known that you’d been having sinful thoughts lately? You wondered if she also knew that she was the subject of some of them.

Deciding you had to stand your ground, you held your head up high. “It’d be none of your business if I did.”

“Oh, I know…” she glanced down at your lips momentarily, then met your eyes once more. “I just can’t help myself. Seeing you, who’s so bright and clean… it makes me think about how much I’d like to corrupt you.”

Your heart stopped. Every part of your brain was screaming at you to resist her.

“L-like how?” You could barely control the words coming out of your mouth.

She grinned a sinister smile, brushing some of your hair behind your shoulder and playing with it. “Well, for starters, I could run my fingers through this pretty hair…”

Your eyes squinted shut at the feeling of her doing so, hating how good it felt.

“I could gaze into these sparkling doe eyes…” she purred, tilting your chin up to look her in the eye. Her own dark eyes were locked in on yours, pupils dilated but squinted slightly like a siren’s.

You allowed her to push you further against the wall, showing absolutely no sign of displeasure at her actions. “Then what?” you whispered.

“Then… I could kiss these beautiful, delicious lips…” Momo finally leaned down and connected her lips with yours, pressing her body up against yours with a fiery passion.

You moved your arms up around her waist, hands gripping onto her for dear life. The pleasure was so great, you almost forgot why you vowed to resist temptation in the first place.

Her hands snaked up into your hair, tugging slightly and making you whimper into her mouth. You could feel her smirk at this, and with the knowledge that you were enjoying yourself, she slipped her tongue into your mouth, letting it explore slightly before pulling away.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” you muttered breathlessly, forehead still pressed against hers. “Both of us could get fired if anyone found out about this.” Demons and angels were not allowed to have relationships. “Besides, how do I know you’re not just using me to win over my human?”

“You can have the human.” she told you without hesitation. “I don’t need them. Right now, I only want you.”

You looked at her closely, studying her expression for any sign of dishonesty. If this was a trick, or one of her lustful schemes, she wouldn’t have been so upfront about it. She would’ve been sneakier.

“I want you too, Momo…” you sighed, crashing your lips into hers once again.

Maybe you would lose your angel status for this, but you knew that no amount of purity would ever feel as good as Momo on your lips would.

Sana: Royal/ Assassin AU

You grunted as you scaled the wall of the castle with a dagger in each hand. One of them would momentarily be used to kill the princess in her sleep. You winced as you thought about what you had to do, feeling your stomach turn.

You were a member of a rebel legion who was planning on overthrowing the palace during a coup. While you weren’t too thrilled about having to kill anyone, you believed the king and queen deserved it. They were incessantly cruel to their subjects, denying them any assistance and punishing them when they took matters into their own hands. Your people were dying of starvation while they were having extravagant parties, and something had to be done about it.

There really was no reason to kill the princess other than your leader feared it would be unwise to leave the only rightful heir to the throne alive. You didn’t think it was right, but the suffering you and your people endured overcame that.

As you reached Princess Sana’s bedroom window, you carefully crept inside and over to her canopy bed. As the moonlight graced her features, your breath hitched in your throat. She looked so peaceful, so content… not to mention, she was positively breathtaking.

You sighed defeatedly, realizing you couldn’t possibly harm this innocent girl. You stepped back and dropped your daggers on the floor, startling her awake.

“Hm? What’s going on? Who are you?” she asked, clutching her blankets to her chest in fear.

“Sh, it’s okay. I’m here to help.” you tried to reassure her. “There’s a rebel legion that’s going to assassinate the king and queen momentarily, and they want to kill you too. If you want to live, you’ll have to escape with me right now.”

She gasped, throwing her blankets off of her. She looked so adorable in her long white nightgown and pink hair bow. “Oh my, let’s go then!”

You grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway and out through the back of the palace. You knew your legion would only be using the front entrance.

The two of you ran off into the night, ducking into a nearby forest for protection. Luckily it was a warm summer night, and the weather was mild.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” you finally spoke as you both caught your breath. It hadn’t dawned on you that Sana might not take the news of her parents assassination very well until just now.

“It’s alright. To be honest, I’ve always hated them. I was hoping to become a better leader than them one day, but they were only interested in marrying me off to a nearby kingdom. I’m just glad the kingdom will be heading in a better direction.” She sat down by the riverbed, taking her hair out of its bow and letting it fall over her shoulders in loose waves. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“I don’t deserve any thanks.” you sighed, sitting down next to her. “I was the one who was supposed to kill you.”

She gave you an unfazed expression. “Well, you didn’t. And I never really liked being a princess anyway. I’ve always craved a life of adventure.”

“Well, you’re certainly going to get it.” you chuckled, stretching out to lay down in the grass. “We’re going to have to flee the kingdom, or at least go to the countryside. They’re going to wonder where the lost princess is, and why she wasn’t executed.”

She laid down next to you, curling into your side. “But… you’ll protect me right?” Her eyes were so big and twinkling with innocence. She looked as if she would shatter into a million pieces without you.

“Why do you trust me so easily?” you asked her genuinely. Any other princess wouldn’t have even believed you, let alone followed you into the woods.

She smiled cutely, brushing some of your hair back. “I had a dream once that someone came into my room and saved me from being a princess.” She traced your features with your finger. “They looked just like you.”

Your mouth fell slightly agape. You were never one to believe in fate or destiny, but this girl was making you second guess yourself.

“Now, are you going to take care of me?” she asked again.

“Of course I will.” you told her, running a hand through her long hair. “Now, let’s get some sleep. I’ll find us some breakfast in the morning.”

Jihyo: Idol Rivalry

Park Jihyo was the bane of your existence. The two of you had hated each other for years, and for good reason. For one, you were both under different companies that constantly compared artists with each other. Two, both of your groups debuted around the same time, and since then it felt like every time your group got a moment in the spotlight, Twice would come along and upstage you. And three, you were both leaders, so everyone expected you to get along due to your similar roles. However, all that meant was that you were both extra protective of your groups, and even more hostile when someone threatened their success.

Today, however, your rivalry was coming to an eruption as both of your groups were performing at the MAMA awards. Luckily, they were spaced apart enough to where it wouldn’t look like one of you was the opening act for the other. Both of your groups put their absolute all into the performances, and everyone agreed that you both owned the award show.

Your members somehow all got along. It was just you and Jihyo that couldn’t seem to find a common ground.

You were thinking this over as you walked up to her dressing room after the show. You decided it was time to be a grown up and hash things out with her. You took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” she chirped from behind the door. You walked in, seeing her at her vanity, still in her stage outfit. You lost the plot for a bit as you took in her features. Her beautiful skin, her pretty eyes, her perfect smile… wait, when did she get so gorgeous?

“Oh… hi Y/N.” she interrupted your thoughts with genuine surprise. “What are you doing here?”

You shut the door behind you and walked up to her. “I’ve come with an olive branch.” you began in a serious tone.

She glanced behind you, furrowing her brows. “Really? I don’t see one.”

You bit your tongue to keep from laughing. Damn, she was funny, but you were trying to have a serious moment!

“A metaphorical olive branch.” you sighed, pretending to be annoyed to save face. “We’ve been fighting for years because of stupid reasons. I think it’s time we sort out our differences.”

She smiled warmly, inviting you to sit down on her sofa. “So, what exactly are our differences?” she asked, starting to remove her makeup.

“Well for starters, you guys have always overshadowed us.” you told her. “Every time we’d start getting attention, you guys would immediately do something even better, and then it was all anyone could talk about. I guess I was sick of the company always telling us how much better you guys are.”

She paused, making eye contact with you in her mirror. “Are you serious?”

You nodded. What did she mean ‘are you serious,’ of course you were serious! It wasn’t that hard to comprehend.

“Oh my god, that’s so funny…” she laughed out loud, shaking her head. She spun around in her chair to face you. “Y/N, ever since we debuted, all our company does is compare us to you.”

“You’re kidding…” you marveled, eyes widening in shock.

“No, I’m serious! I especially get compared to you a lot. You’re super mature and have killer visuals, not to mention you’re one of the best dancers in the industry.” she praised, leaning back in her chair slightly.

“Oh please, I would commit arson to have your vocal skills! You light up a whole stadium with them!” you told her enthusiastically. “You’re so bright and energetic, and you’re absolutely stunning. I mean, who wouldn’t hate you?” you joked, slapping her on the knee playfully.

The two of you laughed for a moment, then sat in a comfortable silence. It was probably the most pleasant interaction you’d ever had.

“Did we just compliment each other?” she asked suddenly, cocking her head to the side.

You shrugged. “I guess so. Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

She smiled affectionately, moving to sit next to you on the sofa. “I actually think I quite like you now.”

The way she was looking at you made you feel butterflies. You didn’t know if you were seeing things or what, but she looked as if she was absolutely captivated by you.

You shrugged cheekily, a sly smirk making its way onto your face. “I kind of like you too. See you around?”

She nodded enthusiastically, a hopeful glint in her eyes. With that, you turned and exited her dressing room, pressing your hands to your warm cheeks.

How did that just happen?

Mina: Fake Dating

“I can’t believe they actually fell for it!” Mina marveled as you both exited the party into the cool night air.

“I know right! Like, are they really that stupid?” you laughed, leading her back to your car.

You wondered how everyone had set aside all their memories of you two absolutely hating each other when you walked into the party holding onto her waist. Anyone with eyes could see that you and Mina despised each other before. You guessed that the two of you were just really good at acting.

What led to your truce was that both of your crushes weren’t paying any attention to either of you. You were trying to win back your ex, whereas Mina’s crush had totally friend-zoned her. So, you came to an agreement that you would pretend to date each other in order to hopefully make your crushes jealous.

You were worried that it was going to be hard to sell your affections for Mina, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy. From spending time with her, you were able to see that she was actually really funny, incredibly bright, and sensitive. Not to mention, she was a perfect ten. That was part of the reason you hated her so much.

As you drove off to drop Mina off at her house, you kept glancing over at her with an amused smile.

“What?” she asked, giggling slightly.

“Nothing, it’s just… you’re so different from what I thought you were.” you answered, eyes focusing back on the road.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she interrogated you, crossing her arms with a smirk.

“Well, to be honest, I thought you were incredibly stuck-up. I mean, you hardly paid any attention to me, and whenever you did, it was to disagree with something I said.” you chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that…” she apologized, shifting her body to face you more. “I have a tendency to close myself off when I find someone intimidating.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Intimidating? How could you find me intimidating?”

“Oh come on, Y/N!” she rolled her eyes, hitting your arm lightly. “You’re like the coolest person ever! When you talk, everyone pays attention to you. It makes me so jealous the way you command a room.”

You shook your head in amazement. “I had no idea you felt that way…”

“Yeah well, I do.” she laughed. She ran a hand through her hair as if to calm herself down.

The two of you enjoyed a comfortable silence for a moment until you spoke again. “You did a really good job today.”

“Thanks, so did you.” she complimented you, nudging you slightly.

“I’m sure your crush is still thinking about how good we looked together.” you pointed out.

“Oh yeah, them…” she resigned, looking out the window absentmindedly. “Well, I’m sure your ex felt the same way.”

You glanced over at her. Why did she seem to shut down when you brought up your love interests? Isn’t that what she had wanted out of this?

“Well, there you are ma’am.” you announced as you pulled into her driveway.

She snapped out of her daze and grabbed her purse, turning to you with a smile. “Thanks again, Y/N. You make a wonderful fake partner.” Suddenly, she leaned forward and planted a brisk kiss on your cheek. You looked at her in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Just practicing. You know, for the next time we see them.”

“Oh, r-right…” you stammered, shifting anxiously in your seat. “Well, see you later!”

“Bye bye!” she waved, cutely scampering away into her house.

You sighed, slamming your head against the steering wheel. Suddenly, a relationship with Mina was sounding a lot better than getting back with your ex. Why did you think this was a good idea again?

Dahyun: Hero/ Villain AU

You struggled against your restraints, rocking the chair you were tied to back and forth. You were previously on a mission from the hero agency to retrieve a stolen artifact from a well-known villain, but something had went wrong, and they ended up capturing you. Now, you were tied up and didn’t know what awaited you.

You screeched into the cloth around your mouth in frustration, feeling hot tears prick at your eyes as you realized there was no way to get out of these ropes. Damn it all. Was this going to be how you were going to be taken down?

Suddenly, you heard a rustling coming from the window in the corner of the room. You furrowed your brow in confusion, until it opened and in tumbled Kim Dahyun, your arch-nemesis.

“Dahyun? What are you doing here?” you asked, although it just sounded like a bunch of muffled syllables to her.

“Sh, I’m here to get you out of here.” she instructed you. She then came over to undo the cloth around your mouth and slice through your ropes with her knife.

“Why are you helping me?” you asked, massaging your wrists from their rope burn.

“Because, you’re my enemy.” she smirked, crawling back through the window she had previously entered in. “If anyone’s going to take you down, it’s going to be me.”

You scoffed with a smile, getting up to follow her. “I won’t go down so easily.”

“Oh I know. I’m looking forward to it.” she cockily winked. “Now, are you coming or not?” She extended her hand to you, face illuminated by the soft candlelight of the room. God, she was devastatingly beautiful. Perhaps in another universe, the two of you would’ve made a great couple.

You brushed the thoughts away, knowing they could only lead to heartache, and instead just took her hand and fled with her by your side. Maybe you didn’t need a relationship with her. This game of cat and mouse was too damn fun anyway.

Chaeyoung: Forced to Hang Out by Mutual Friends

You walked into the restaurant, face twisting into a scowl as you realized only one person was at your table: Son Chaeyoung, whom you could not stand. However, you had to get along with her because she was a part of your friend group. You knew she didn’t really care for you either, but also agreed to keep the peace for the sake of your mutual friends.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, then walked over to the table to sit across from her. “Hi Chaeyoung.” you said, flatly but still politely.

She looked up from her phone and cracked a forced smile. “Hey there, Y/N.”

“I wonder why everyone’s so late.” you commented, trying to make small talk.

“I’m not sure.” she replied. The two of you shared an awkward silence, save for your repetitive tapping on the table. After a while she coughed uncomfortably.

“Hi there! Are you two here for the couple’s special?” the waitress suddenly asked as she arrived at your table.

You both looked at each other horrified. “No, we’re definitely not a couple…” you insisted.

“Yeah we’re just waiting for some of our friends.” Chaeyoung explained to her, chuckling nervously.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” the waitress apologized. “I’ll come back in a few minutes, okay?” You both nodded, and she scurried off to the other end of the restaurant. Wow… you thought, the two of you were so uncomfortable it was spreading to other people.

“I’ll text them and see what’s keeping them.” Chaeyoung announced, picking her phone back up. However, her eyes widened as soon as she looked at the screen. “Apparently Rosè is sick.”

“Really? That’s odd. She seemed fine yesterday…” you replied, grabbing your own phone. You too already received a text, but from Yeoreum.

yeoreum 🌻: “hey, sorry to cancel last minute, but i forgot i have a doctors’ appointment :( say hi to the girls for me!”

You sighed, setting your phone back down. “Well, Yeoreum bailed too.”

“Are you serious?” Chaeyoung asked. “Well, at least there’s…” However she never got to finish her sentence, because both of your phones rang at the same exact time. You were getting a call from Somi, and she was getting a call from Jinsol. You both snatched up your phones again and slammed the answer button.

“Hey Y/N!” Somi chirped on the other end of the line. “I gotta cancel today. Forgot I already made plans with my sister!”

“No, Somi please-“

“Have fun! Give my love to the girls!” she responded, hanging up.

You squinted your eyes shut and sighed, setting your phone down to see Chaeyoung doing the exact same. “Jinsol too?”

“Yep.” she nodded. “Something about a family reunion.”

It was obvious that all your friends had planned this in an effort to get you and Chaeyoung to spend time with each other and hopefully sort out your differences. However, right now that seemed like a lost cause, as both of you were consumed with irritation and discomfort at the situation.

“Great…” you grumbled, putting your head in your hands. “Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

“I don’t get what your problem is with me.” she snapped, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Me? You’re the one with the problem!” you responded defensively. “You’ve always hated me for no reason. I can see it in the way you talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” she replied angrily, furrowing her brow in frustration. “I was just upset with you because you threw that huge party a year ago and invited everybody but me! I had to hear about it from Bangchan of all people!”

Your jaw unhinged in disbelief. You had totally forgotten about that event, and how you never invited Chaeyoung. To tell the truth, you couldn’t even remember why you didn’t invite her in the first place.

“I didn’t know it bothered you so much…” you marveled, leaning back in your chair as if backing down from your anger. “I guess… maybe I assumed you wouldn’t want to go? You don’t really seem like the type to enjoy a huge party.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have want to be invited.” she retorted, glancing down at the table nervously.

You blinked, straightening yourself up. “You’re right. That was really rude of me. I’m sorry I didn’t invite you.”

She smiled genuinely for the first time since you had known her. “I appreciate that.”

“If I have another party and invite you, will you stop hating me?” you chuckled.

“I wouldn’t say I hated you…” she replied, softening even more. “There were still things I really liked about you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you asked, trying not to be too enthusiastic with your curiosity.

“You have a really pretty smile, you’re super passionate about what you do, you’re really sharp and witty…” she listed out with a bright grin. “You’re really cool. I guess that’s why I was so mad you didn’t invite me.”

“I understand why you were mad, and I’m sorry again.” you replied, looking at her sympathetically. “But it didn’t come from a place of malice. I actually think you’re really cool.”

“You do?” she inquired perplexedly.

“Of course I do! You always make everyone laugh, you’re super nice to everybody… and you’ve got a really cute face.”

She grinned, and you swore you saw her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “You think I’m cute?”

Now it was your turn to blush. You cleared your throat, then glanced away with shifty eyes. “I mean, like objectively. You have bright eyes or whatever.”

She giggled quietly to herself, then as soon as your eyes were focused back on her, she spoke again. “I think you’re pretty cute too.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept it’s way up your expression, looking away again bashfully.

“Do we still need a few more minutes?” the waitress asked, suddenly appearing again.

“Nope, I think we’re ready.” you replied, glad to be changing the subject. “I guess we will take that couple’s special since it’ll just be the two of us.”

“Oh, well it’s actually only for real couples…” the waitress told you sympathetically.

“What if this was our first date?” Chaeyoung asked her. Your eyes widened as you whipped your head around to look at her. She was just looking at the waitress with a confident grin. You had never seen her so bold, and you had to admit, it was really attractive. You were starting to kick yourself for messing things up with her in the past. You could’ve been around her best self this whole time… well, at least you were seeing it now. And you couldn’t get enough of it. You loved the excitement about where things were going with her.

Tzuyu: Only One Bed

You frowned as you realized who had just walked into your hotel room. “What are you doing here Tzuyu?”

“Believe me, this wasn’t my choice.” she groaned, shoving the door shut behind her. “Apparently the hotel booked up their last room by accident. And since you’re the only one who doesn’t have a roommate yet, I’m going to have to room with you.”

“Are you serious?” you asked, sitting up in your bed. “Aren’t there any other hotels in the area?”

“I went all around the neighborhood looking for one. Why do you think I’m soaked? It’s pouring down rain right now.” she complained. “They’re all booked up too.”

You took in her appearance. “Where’s your suitcase?”

“Airport lost it.” she replied, an angry sarcastic smile on her face. “This is a really great vacation so far. None of my things, and I’m stuck with you.”

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly thrilled about this either.” you sneered, shuffling your way out of bed. “Here, you can have one of my big shirts.”

She looked amazed. “Wait, are you actually being nice to me?”

You glared at her. “I may not like you very much, but I’m not heartless. Now go change.” You threw the shirt at her and got back into bed. You thought you caught a glimpse of a smirk on her face, but she turned the corner to the bathroom so fast you couldn’t be sure.

You got settled in bed again, then stared up at the ceiling. You were currently on a group vacation with all of your friends. Well, Tzuyu wasn’t your friend, but she had come along because she was close with some of your friends. You did kind of feel sorry for her… it had to suck losing all of your things. You shook your head. There was no need to feel sympathy for her when she had never made any effort to be nice to you. However, your thoughts were interrupted as she re-emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but your shirt. Your heart stopped. She looked really cute, with her wet hair and bare legs.

She chuckled cockily. “Like what you see?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” you scoffed, rolling over in resignation.

She laughed at you again, walking over to the other side of the bed and crawling in. “Try to control yourself Y/N, we’ll both need some sleep for all the stuff they have planned tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” you laughed, curling up in displeasure. “Rosè and Chaeyoung were way too excited about going downtown.”

“I know right? Like, how many shops can you go to before you get bored?” Tzuyu joked, making you laugh even harder. “And Elkie and Shuhua want to go to that museum…”

“Oh my god, what a snooze-fest.” you rolled your eyes, making her cackle even louder. You started chuckling again too, and soon you were both consumed with laughter.

“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve had a conversation without arguing?” you asked, leaning over to face her with an amused smile.

“Yeah… it was pretty nice.” she responded, looking at you and resting her head against the pillow. You both just stared at each other affectionately for a moment, taking in each others’ features. “Well, I guess we should go to sleep.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, moving to turn off the lamp. “Goodnight Tzuyu.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You lied awake for a moment, glancing over at her every so often. You couldn’t help the giddy, flustered feeling that crept up in your chest. You never knew Tzuyu could be so pleasant, and you were excited you got to share a room with her for the rest of the vacation. And you were even more excited to share a bed with her. Your mind started to wander about holding her, touching her, kissing her…

You shook your head, shuffling a bit. You couldn’t think these things while she was asleep next to you. Unless… maybe she was thinking them too?”

“Y/N?” she suddenly asked, rolling over to face you.

Your heart stopped. Holy shit, was she reading my mind?

“Yeah?” you asked, mirroring her actions.

You both stared at each other in desperation for a while, until she dove forward and kissed you passionately. You were taken aback for a second, but soon brought your hands up around her neck. She shifted to straddle you, kissing you more intensely. She pulled away for a breather just as your hands were going up into her hair.

“I hate you.” she smirked evilly, gasping for air.

“I despise you.” you retaliated, yanking her hair slightly and making her whimper a bit. You used her moment of weakness as an opportunity and pushed her over to straddle her. You began kissing her again, then moved down to nip at her neck and chest. “Let me show you just how much I do.”

#girl group imagines #girl group fanfic #girl group scenarios #girl group x reader #twice reactions #twice headcanons #twice scenarios #twice x reader #twice fanfic #twice imagines #twice writing #twice requests #nayeon imagines #jeongyeon x reader #momo scenarios #sana scenarios #jihyo x reader #mina imagines #dahyun x reader #chaeyoung x reader #tzuyu x reader

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader - fluffy oneshot about Nursing Katsuki

Another fluffy one shot, this time friends(ish) to lovers! Unfortunately, Katsuki has a few injuries that need care. Nothing you can't fix, though!

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"Pull it tighter, dumbass," Katsuki barked at you, referring to the bandage you were wrapping around a gash on his arm. He seemed less like he was in pain from the various cuts and bruises he had, and more like he was annoyed at you for not doing exactly as he asked. He felt weird with you standing over him, he was used to standing over you, but seeing as he the only place he could sit was the bench in the men's dressing room, he allowed it.

"No, If I do It'll cut off your circulation," you said, your minimal patience making you look like a saint next to him. He rolled his eyes with a huff, glaring at you and trying to make eye contact. When that didn't happen, he just glanced down and watched judgingly as you finished off the bandage application.

After a couple seconds of watching you care for him, touching him so gently even when he was being a huge asshole, he looked back up at you. "Why're you even doing this? Think I can't do it myself or something?"

He wanted to hear it, he wanted you to say you looked down to him so he'd have a reason to hate you, to prove you wrong, to yell and shout so he could ignore what he didn't understand. "No, I think you wouldn't do it yourself." You didn't just think it, you knew it, because he basically told you.

The whole reason this was happening was because in the middle of training with another class, He got distracted and ended up getting blasted by a pretty gnarly quirk, or rather the after effect of it. He was ok, but due to the nature of the challenge he was "out."

He stormed off to the dressing rooms, and because you care about him for reasons even you don't know, you followed to be sure he was ok. He scolded you for following him in when you weren't supposed to as he sat down, panting and sweating, his hero shirt practically ripped to shreds and therefore off his body and tossed to the corner. When you asked if he was going to fix himself up he said no, much to your sur- actually, no, you weren't surprised. You took it upon yourself to take care of it. He abstained at first, though not nearly as much as you thought he would, but eventually he allowed it, begrudgingly.

Now you were here, scolding him for not taking care of himself, but it was something he found oddly comforting. He was so used to people being too fed up with him to care like that, not even his own mother treated him this gently. He knew you were right, so he just rolled his eyes again and turned away. He didn't react when you applied the alcohol to his various cuts, or when you put an ice pack on his darkest bruise.

All he did was watch you work from the corner of his eye, but eventually his attention turned from your hands to your face. He looked closely at you, observing every little twitch and reaction coming from you. You confused him to the nth degree, and he wanted to figure you out. It wasn't so much what you did, but how you made him feel. He felt fireworks every time you looked at him, smiled at him, breathed near him. Maybe the best course of action was to get as far away from you as possible. Maybe the best course of action was to get closer...

"There, all done," you announced proudly, stepping back. He seemed to snap back into consciousness, coming back from wherever his mind wandered, and stood. He looked down at you, something intense and passionate in his eyes different from the usual intensity and passion. "Thanks," he grumbled as he looked askance, not moving away from you. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, that's how close you were to him. He seemed to be thinking about something, looking back and forth between your eyes while his lips pressed together.

You started to speak, asking, "...Are you o-" Before being cut off by him as he said- "Go on a date with me." It wasn't a question, it was a demand. "A date?" You asked, looking up into his ruby eyes inquisitively. You knew how you felt about him, how his laugh made your heart fill with joy and how the look he gave when he was so close to annihilating an enemy lit a fire in your stomach. What you didn't know was that he felt the same, that he was fond of you.

"You deaf or something?" He pulled on the shirt of the UA gym uniform over his toned muscles, cracking his knuckles as he looked at you sternly. "When...When would this hypothetical date be?" He chuckled at your reaction, cracking a wide grin. he got close again, his big calloused hand patting your head and turning it up a little to face him.

"Saturday, at 7. Don't expect me to take you out if you look stupid." That was a lie, He'd take you out if you were wearing a face full of clown makeup as long as he got to spend time with you. That was just his way of telling you the date would be nice enough for you to dress up a little. He pushed past you, stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking open the door. He worried that if he didn't put his hands in his pockets, you'd see just how much he was sweating from nerves.

______________________________________________________________

My deepest apologies if there are typos/grammatical errors, hope you enjoyed! let me know if you want a part two ;)

#katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #new writeblr #new writers on tumblr #new to tumblr #new to this

[reashot]

Jaune joins the small wiener club. 🌭

Jaune: Hey everyone you won't believe it but my application finally got through.

Ruby: Ooohh congrats. But what's it for?

Weiss: Knowing him he's probably applying for mayor of dorktown.

Yang: Oof nice burn. Ice Queen. 🤜🤛

Pyhrra: Hey! That's not very nice of you to say Weiss.

Nora: Oh loosen up Pyhrra. It's ok to admit that our leader is kind of a loser. So anyway let's hear it.

Jaune: Oh here, let me put in on a speaker...

*You have. One new message.*

Phil: ~

Hey this is Phil from the small Weiner club.

Sorry to get back to you so late.

I just finished reviewing your application.

And the information you sent in.

But I am sorry to say that I don't think I can allow you to join our group.

From what I'm looking at your Weiner is massive.

I mean, the sheer girth and juiciness alone is ridiculous.

It look as if someone glued a forearm to the bottom of your torso.

You could probably stand on it like a tripod.

And that's not even mentioning how fat your nuts are.

But it does appears you are going to have to take that ginourmous Schmeat, somewhere else.

But thank you for trying and best of luck to you...

Everyone:

Jaune:

Ha, ha, ha, ha... Oh fuck. I actually applied to join the Weenie hut Junior. I guess I might have... Joined the wrong club by mistake. Oops my mistake... Ha, ha, ha... It's ok for you to laugh guys... *sniffs*

Yang: Blake. Close the door for us will you?

Blake: Way ahead of you... *click*

Jaune: Why are you guys looking at me like that?

Nora: Isn't it obvious we're going to take off your pants and see it for ourselves.

Jaune: !!!

Weiss: I-it's not like, we like to see your huge meat you know! W-we're just curious that's all.

Pyrrha: I'm sorry Jaune. But we promise we won't try to stare at it too long.

Ren: *cough* And I may also be curious to see it myself too.

Jaune: *gasp* Et tu, Ren?

Ruby: Enough talking let us see it!

Jaune: Yamero!!!

#jaune arc #rwby #lancaster #ruby rose #lancaster rwby #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #rwby lancaster #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #weiss x jaune #jaune x yang #jaune x blake #jaune x pyrrha #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #rwby arkos #arkos #dragonslayer #rwby whiteknight #whiteknight rwby #small wiener club #weenie hut junior #rwby shitpost #team rwby #team jnpr

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Riddle Rosehearts - Bloom Birthday Vignette

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Riddle: It's time for the customary interview. I must prepare myself to provide proper responses so as to be a role model to the other students.

Riddle: There is five minutes remaining until it is slated to begin. I wonder if we will be able to start on time…

???: For celebrities like me, it is crucial to be punctual. Although, I cannot say I blame you for your concern.

Riddle: Ah, so you're my presenter, Vil-senpai. It seems this interview should run smoothly.

Vil: Well, aren't you lucky, Riddle? Don't you think having me as your presenter is the best birthday gift one could receive?

Riddle: Fufu, you're right. Thank you, and please be gentle with me.

Vil: Alright, let me start from the beginning… Riddle, Happy Birthday. I'll start the interview now.

Vil: “If you could use flight magic to go anywhere, where would you like to go?”

Riddle: Anywhere while using flight magic, you say…? Given that condition, I believe I would be able to fly back and forth between the Queendom of Roses and Sage's Island.

Vil: If I recall, you're from the Queendom of Roses, yes? Are you looking to take quick day trips back home?

Riddle: Oh, I wouldn't go home, but instead, I'd like to go out to this one ranch.

Vil: A ranch? That's… actually not too surprising, I suppose. You are in the Equestrian club, after all.

Riddle: Come to think of it, I believe they also offered horseback riding lessons… My recollection is from some time ago, so I'm not sure if they still offer it, however.

Vil: Oh, so you've gone before?

Riddle: Yes, during one of my elementary school extra curriculars.

Riddle: It wasn't very far from my hometown, so many of my classmates would visit there on weekends.

Riddle: It seems it was common for them to buy some ice cream from the ice cream vans they had stationed around the ranch…

Riddle: Even when we visited for our extracurricular course, I recall many of my classmates eating that ice cream.

Vil: Well now, it must have been very popular. So, essentially, you wish to once more taste that ice cream from time long past, yes?

Riddle: I've never eaten it. At the time, my mother had forbidden me from having snacks of that sort.

Riddle: So, while I am interested in their ice cream… I would also like to visit the ranch's café.

Vil: Has that café still been in operation since that time?

Riddle: Actually, it opened after I enrolled here at Night Raven College.

Riddle: I saw an advert for it in a magazine that one of my dormmates were reading, so I researched it on the internet…

Riddle: They're really well known for their white and fluffy whipped cream topped sweets, so much so that apparently some customers come from overseas just to try it.

Vil: From overseas, even? That's impressive, especially for a ranch café.

Riddle: I agree. There was even a showcase of their delicious looking sweets on their website as well.

Riddle: Among them, I found the cream tart to look the most appealing… So I have been wanting to eat it someday.

Vil: So, put simply, you wish to go to this ranch and come back without your mom ever finding out? Ahaha! I like it!

Vil: For you of all people to want to secretly snack like this, I guess you've truly embraced the spirit of Night Raven College.

Riddle: That's not…! Ah, no, it probably is just as you've surmised, Vil-senpai.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Vil: NEXT! Here's the next question.

Vil: "What is your best class?"

Riddle: As I always receive a perfect score on my tests, when it comes to grades, I have no obvious strengths or weaknesses.

Riddle: If I must choose one, I suppose I'd choose Practical Magic.

Vil: True, practical application of magic is a very useful skill.

Vil: Although, back when my magic first presented itself, I do remember thinking, that I could do it much faster if I didn't use magic, however.

Riddle: That's understandable. In Heartslabyul, we use our magic for practical application when painting the roses, or transporting our tableware, but…

Riddle: For those who are unsteady when it comes to their magical output and control, they often just do it with their own hands, instead of magic. This is especially true with our inexperienced first years.

Vil: You say that as if you were not like them.

Riddle: That's exactly correct. Before I even enrolled in Night Raven College, I already was capable of casting practical magic our classwork requires us to use.

Riddle: It wouldn't even take me 10 minutes to paint all the roses in our garden red.

Vil: I expect that would be true, especially coming from you. Were you receiving special training before coming here?

Riddle: Yes… My parents are both mages, so I acquired my knowledge through the assignments my mother tasked me.

Vil: I wouldn't know anything about how living as a family of mages would be. I'm curious to know what kind of assignments she gave you.

Riddle: The simpler tasks would be those such as putting away the books I had finished reading or changing my outfit.

Riddle: Let me see, I think it might have been when I was five years old when I once fell asleep from exhaustion in the middle of finishing what had been tasked to me...

Riddle: My mother had come in to check on my progress, and she scolded me fervently. After that, I was given another task to complete.

Vil: I assume your mother simply very earnest when it comes to your education… But she sure does not take it easy on her child, I see.

Riddle: …As I endeavored to complete all my assignments, I could tell that my own abilities were growing bit by bit.

Riddle: I could feel my own motivation surging after I had set a goal for myself, to complete all my assigned tasks before my mother would come to check in on me.

Riddle: I can still clearly remember that proud feeling that coursed through me the first time I was able to achieve that goal.

Vil: Essentially, you were challenging yourself to a speedrun, is that it? I can't help but be impressed by your diligence.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Vil: Alright then, this is your last question.

Vil: “What would you like to do in the coming year?”

Riddle: I would like to improve my cooking skills.

Vil: YOU, COOK!? Rather, I should ask, why did you decide to try to improve that?

Riddle: I have several reasons, but… I suppose the biggest one is that I realized that there is still much I don't know about cooking.

Vil: Well, that is a laudable thing for you to say, a far cry different from your comments earlier. Perhaps you'd elaborate further for me.

Riddle: The other day, I was invited to have lunch with Trey and Cater. They said that Trey was planning on making the food…

Riddle: So I asked them what he was making, and he responded, "I'll just look in the fridge and decide after I see what's available."

Vil: And what did you eat that day, then?

Riddle: The main dish was a cheese omelette. It seems he used the leftover ingredients from when we baked some cheese tarts the day before.

Riddle: We had leftover carrots and raisins from making a carrot cake, and those were tossed into a salad side dish.

Riddle: In addition, he also made soup and dessert for us. All with ingredients that we had in the kitchen.

Vil: For a lunch that was made with whatever was leftover, that sounds as if it was rather splendid.

Riddle: IT ABSOLUTELY WAS.

Riddle: As the food was almost finished, Ace and Deuce showed up, having followed the aroma to see where it was coming from…

Riddle: In the end, it was the five of us eating lunch together that day. Cater, Ace, and Deuce had nothing but praise for the food.

Riddle: I was truly astounded… I never expected such a delicious meal from leftovers like that, let alone multiple courses.

Riddle: I always believed that cooking required one to plan the menu ahead of time and carefully prepare each step and ingredient properly.

Vil: You're not wrong, either. It's actually rather difficult to create dishes on the fly like that without any experience.

Riddle: Trey explained that there many times that he would cook instead of his parents, so he just naturally learned how.

Riddle: When he said that, I came to a realization. It wasn't enough for me to only memorize recipes, but I needed to gain more experience as well.

Riddle: Eventually, once I leave the dormitory and my parent's home, I'll be on my own and I may need to cook for myself.

Riddle: If I am able to use up all my ingredients and seasonings without being wasteful, then it should also reduce the time I would need for shopping.

Riddle: That's why I intend on taking continual Master Chef courses in order to gain that practical know-how.

Vil: I have this feeling that you may find that there will be many challenges when you live alone, much more than just cooking.

Riddle: …What does that mean?

Vil: Well, there's a plethora of things I can think of… But for now, I suppose I'm just extremely curious what kind of interior design you'll end up choosing.

Riddle: My interior design choice, hm. You're right, I would need to assemble a complete set of furniture once I start living alone.

Riddle: If I ever come to purchase any furniture, it would be an honor to receive advice from you, Vil-senpai.

Vil: This concludes the interview. I was able to learn many fascinating things about you.

Vil: Here, take this. This broom has copious amounts of bright red flowers and suits a leading man like yourself well.

Riddle: Thank you very much. Red is a color that symbolizes both Heartslabyul and the Queen of Hearts.

Riddle: If nothing else, it fills me with joy. I shall demonstrate flight skills that is worthy of such a broom.

Vil: What high spirits. Well then, go on now. I look forward to seeing what the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul can really do.

Riddle: Of course. I absolutely won't disappoint.

Riddle: Flying in the sky is a simple task. I'll show every person gathered here my true ability!

Requested @leonakingscholarship and @agnesmontague.

#twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #vil schoenheit #twst riddle #twst vil #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: ace #mention: deuce #mention: cater #mention: trey

[xzhdjsj]

As an apology for my last two Isaac posts, anddd because @mitsukitsume requested this, here's the Isaac version of that mini Andrew fic I wrote!

Hope you guys like it! Muah🫶

-

“How on earth did I end up in this situation?” Isaac sighs heavily.

Really, how did it all start? Let’s just say Isaac’s biggest mistake was getting you a phone and access to social media. Sure, you didn’t have an account, to be untraceable and whatnot, but that didn’t stop you from finding the cutest trends! Some of which require the help of a second party and who better, rather who else, to call but your dear knight in business attire?

“Stop being a big baby, if anything, this is your fault for getting me a phone.” You laugh at his whining.

“Annnd you bought me the lipsticks too.” You stuck your tongue out, mocking him.

You have him seated at the kitchen island, the lipsticks he purchased for you neatly lined up next to him.

It’s a habit of his, if you mention liking something it’ll be yours within a few days. So, when you mentioned your interest in lipsticks, he was up and browsing the internet for the best ones. Unfortunately for Isaac, and his lack of make-up knowledge, the most expensive isn’t always the best. That didn’t mean you appreciated them any less. You never purchased the ones you actually wanted and continued to use the ones he got you. So far you’ve acquired a collection of overpriced, luxurious lipsticks that could’ve easily been duped, and somehow, they mean the whole world to you. Isaac didn’t care about the price one bit. He thinks his lover deserves the best, and he’ll continue to spoil you with lavish gifts.

“Maybe I’ll stop treating you to gifts then.”

“WHAT? That’s not what I meant!”

He laughed at your reaction, the way your hand paused mid lipstick application with a wide-eyed expression on your face. Of course, he didn’t actually mean it, he’d spend all the money in his bank account on you if you asked him to.

“You just love pulling my leg, don’t you?”

“Hmmm maybe I do.”

“Wowww so mean.” You roll your eyes at him.

He doesn’t respond, just watches quietly as you apply the prettiest red colour to your lips.

“You ready?

“Do I have a choice?”

You kiss him on the cheek, leaving behind a crimson stain. “Of course not.”

Despite complaining, he’s sits still for you. His face became warmer, and his brain was melting like ice cream in the hot summer sun. Maybe it's the pent up tension from before you established a relationship. From all the times he held himself back from holding you, and now the effects of simple kisses are much more potent.

Kiss after kiss, you covered his entire face red with marks in the shape of your lips. And kiss after kiss, the more his heart rate increaded.

“Are we done yet?”, he mumbles.

“Mmm hold on a bit I need you looking the prettiest for me.”

He sighs, a silent protest but he still obeys.

With a few final kisses, you’re satisfied with your work. You take two steps back to admire your creation, but you don’t quite get to.  

“Isaaaccccc you gotta look at me!” You drag and pulled your phone from your pocket.

Isaac simply cannot face you, he’s the most flustered you’ve ever seen him as he stares off to the side.

“God, how did you even convince me to do this?” He reluctantly lifts his head to look up at you, bashful and embarrassed.

You tried your best, you really did but you couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your throat. You held onto the kitchen counter for support, doubled over desperately trying to catch your breath.

“This is NOT funny, Pickle.” He rolls his eyes, and suddenly it’s even funnier.

“I’m sorry-“, you say between giggles, “I really am!”

“Well you sure don’t look very sorry to me” He raised an eyebrow, annoyed by your display. “Fine then, if you want to play, let’s play”

He pulls you towards him by the waist, taking you by surprise, and presses his cheek onto yours, dabbing the greasy splotches of red on you as well. He drags his face against yours until you’re both coloured red and the marks are all ruined.

“Nooo! You ruined it”

“You started this Pickle.” He says smugly, clearly proud of himself.

“Now we look like red smurfs, or I don’t know demons or something?” It’s your turn to complain.

“Then you might just be the most gorgeous demon I’ve ever seen”

“Really? You’ve seen other demons before?” You reply sarcastically.

“Stop being such a smartass”

His arms are still securely wrapped around your body, and he uses it to his advantage, pulling you close to kiss you. A proper kiss this time, a longer kiss to make up for how much you teased him. A desperate kiss to make up for the times he couldn't kiss you so freely.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #isaac #isaac rhoades

[itsnothingofinterest]

If I may get out one last post for the year, something I thought of when answering an ask recently is that I think I've got why I’m not getting behind the next generation of heroes surpassing their predecessors. The manga’s still trying to make those predecessors so inspiring and right in what they do that it’s stopped acknowledging the flaws that the students are supposed to be surpassing. Like, sure Hawks had his "contributions" to the 1st war; but the manga will still let him get a few cool one-liners off on AFO. He's still presented as someone for the kids like Tokoyami to aspire too. As a result, the students end up doing all the same things as those inspiring current pros would do instead of surpassing them.

I mean I recently saw it said that Deku was surpassing All Might by doing the one thing he couldn’t; saving Tomura. But did All Might not do that because he was incapable, or did he just…get forced into retirement first? We know he wanted to save Tomura. Do we really have reason to say he couldn’t besides not being given the opportunity, and if so, is that opportunity really the edge Deku has over All Might?

And Shoto and Endeavor both conclude their arcs trying to save Touya. They fail at this if you ask me but Shoto at least stops him from exploding…but his quirk is the only reason he manages that. That really ends up being the difference his contribution to the Todoroki finale has over his father's, he had an ice quirk to help cool Touya.

The students have even ended up participating in the really morally grey stuff we'd criticize the pros for, at least on the professional side; like using a hospital to hold Kurogiri, brainwashing Machia, and Deku still seems the only one who wasn't trying to murder Tomura in the Sky Coffin. And they get the same justifications of “but this villain’s so dangerous” and “the greater good” thrown around for them like when the current pros got criticized for doing stuff like this. Which tracks when, like I said, those criticisms didn't stop Endeavor from being shown as a good guy or Hawks from getting a cool one-liner or two off on AFO. Why would Class 1A avoid being like this?

There’s just not a lot of sense of actual improvement going around, I'm finding; the kids are only doing marginally better because the story lets them in this instance (and often in ways not replicable or applicable to their future heroics: I don't think Ochako can date every Toga Himiko-type she'll come across after all. So they're not beating any "treating the League as one-time exceptions" allegations either). Otherwise, they act exactly the same; Deku does what AM would do and (baring Ochako) the rest of the kids do what any general pro hero would do in their circumstance. In the end it leaves me feeling like instead of surpassing the pros, they’re simply ending up standing by their side as equals ready to be the next verse, same as the first. Everything will go back to normal, good and bad, including everything that brought us here in the first place.

It's like the series is now going "C'mon, the old pros weren't so bad, right? All Might wasn't so bad, right?" And strictly speaking that's even correct, All Might wasn't bad. In fact as I went over in that ask, he was frankly the best; the best any hero could ever be. It makes sense how Deku struggles with surpassing him in terms of behaviour while striving the same goals the same way. But All Might also wasn't enough. So if Deku's just acting as an extension rather than an improvement, I don't think he'll be enough either.

And I guess that’s the main problem I’m hoping gets addressed by this series in the new year (or if my part two theory comes true, then in the years to come after Hori takes a long break).

#Wanted to get one last original post out for the year. #bnha #midoyiza izuku #shoto todoroki #uraraka ochako #class 1a #shigaraki tomura #dabi #toga himiko #kurogiri #gigantomchia #paranormal liberation front #PLF #league of villains #lov #all might #hero society #anti endeavor #anti hawks #pro heroes

[yandere-sins]

Guard #400

a/n: It is time... for Pantalone ♥♥♥ I was actually really looking forward to this one lol, he just fits a little too well in this whole prison scheme (I guess all Harbingers do hahhaa). Also I won’t deny any longer just how badly I want to be railed by that guy. Just... just give him to me mhy, now, gimmi gimmi. If he ever does come out as a playable character I might just C6 him because damn. He’d demand it and I’d just be Sir, yes, Sir! Woof woof.

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Guard!Pantalone x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con, Forced Exhibition, Slapping), Abuse of authority, Manipulation, Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"So? Have you made your decision?"

Pantalone slowly rose from his chair, uncapped his fountain pen, and placed it on the paper you recognized as the contract he had offered you before. Gesturing his hand to the document, he added, "The offer still stands, but I'm not sure for how long."

He was growing impatient. You could hear it even through his honeyed, service voice, unfitting of a man in his position. The few slow strides were so confident, as if the contract's content didn't concern him in the least, no matter how nasty and inhumane it was. He was a man that knew what he wanted. And even worse: He knew he was going to get it.

Circling around you, you felt his warmth in your back, a hand brushing from your hip up your side, resting on your waist as he stepped up next to you from behind. "Let me guess—no one else wanted to employ you? Poor thing."

His taunt felt like an ice-cold blade stabbing into your gut, twisting around in the form of a delighted chuckle. Pantalone hadn't been your first choice of employer. You thought the chief of finances of the prison you had been sent to wouldn't have interest in someone locked up for embezzlement. But your options of other jobs had been so few, most of them refusing you even before you asked for a position, that eventually you put your doubts aside, trying your luck with this man. However, the job he had for you was more punishment than going to prison not guilty already was. You just wanted to earn some money to make your life here more comfortable and save some for the hardships you'd face once you got out.

He wanted a sex slave.

As disturbing and straightforward as that. Things in this prison were anything but proper. Still, you never expected an officer in a leading position like the finance department to go this far. The first time you read the contract, you thought you were hallucinating, laughing it off as a bad joke. But seeing the everlasting, unreadable smile on Pantalone's lips, you realized he was serious about this—so you ran.

You wished you could have told anyone what had happened, even just vent it to a friend. But nothing and no one in this prison was friendly to you, the newbie. You could live with the mockery and bullying, being pushed around and called names. However, you were in no position to tell anyone what Pantalone had offered to you. There was nothing you could do to put his head back on straight. You were powerless.

Thus, after another round of unsuccessful applications, you were back, disgusted at yourself for even considering it.

"Isn't there anything... anything else I can do but this?" you asked uncomfortably, and you heard him take a deep breath by your side, annoyance radiating off of him. Your morality told you not to sink to his level, to not even consider it any further unless he offered you actual work right then and there. But your conscience was whispering into the back of your mind, with his voice, that this was as good as it would get, and you should take it as long as he still wanted you.

"Why? Do you think I won't compensate you well for this work?"

Hand slipping down, his fingers gripped your waist, pulling you into his chest, his lips next to your ear. "You need the money, remember? And I have lots of it. If you want to leave, you're free to go—now. But if you agree to stay, you'll get whatever you want from me, and I'll get my break from work. It's a win-win for everyone."

The smug smile plastered on his face could be heard in his voice as he made all of this seem so harmless. Fun, even. A business transaction like in the books with a twist. Your body for money, and maybe more. "Anything I want?" you muttered, thinking about the few things that would make your life easier here if you had them.

Pantalone's head dipped lower, and you subconsciously moved your head out of the way, baring your neck to him, which he appreciated with an agreeing hum. "Mhm, anything," Pantalone confirmed, halting in his tracks just before your pulse, enjoying the closeness of what was almost his (or so he thought). "Whatever you might desire from me."

The offer was horrendous. He was merely tricking you into becoming his sex slave with sweet words and promises. You had no reason to believe him. But if he spoke the truth, and was a man of his word, then... maybe...

"I want a cell for myself," you tested him.

"Mhm, sure," Pantalone hummed, planting a fluttering kiss on your neck that gave you goosebumps. A brush of his lips, like tipping his credit card to a machine for quick pay.

"And I want some of the money to be transferred to a bank account outside of jail for later."

His second hand reached up, driving from your collarbones to your jaw before wrapping around it, forcing your head back. "Anything else?" Pantalone asked, a sharp, biting undertone echoing through his voice, declaring his patience running low. There was so much you could demand and so little time to demand it. But he wanted something in return, and denying him any longer wasn't an option. This had to suffice if you wanted to stay on his good side. There was only one more thing you could ask for—mercy.

"Can you... Can you promise not to do something ridiculous or embarrassing to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, he watched you intently through hooded eyelids. There was a hint of distrust in his gaze, indicating that he didn't expect a rather personal request instead of more materialistic things. "That's what you concerned with?" Pantalone asked, and you nodded your head into his palm, feeling bashful.

"I will see what I can do. However, as that is an undefined request, we'll have to test out a few things before we know for sure."

You breathed out slowly, having held your breath as you waited for his answer. "Thank you," you whispered, lowering your gaze to the contract on the table. Pantalone released you, his touch lingering as long as possible on your body until you reached his desk, picking up the pen. In your best handwriting, you wrote down the things you discussed before placing your signature on the bottom line.

No second later, Pantalone's body collided with your back, one hand slipping around your front and between your legs, finger digging into the fabric of your pants and overall, sliding between your folds and up to your clit. You gasped, threatening to let the pen fall from your hand when he caught it with his free one. Leaning over your shoulder, he put his signature over yours. If that was supposed to be this way or an accident, you didn't know. But it looked awfully possessive of you as he hastily smeared his elegant signature all over yours.

With two fingertips, he played with your clit, the fabric giving barely enough coverage but all the more friction. You struggled a little against his touch but caught between his body and his arm, it only made you grind against Pantalone more, a husky grumble in your ear making you shudder.

Wasting no more time, Pantalone reached around to your front, unzipping the overall so he could sneak his hand under your shirt and up to your chest. The lousy bras you were given gave no resistance as he tore them off, letting them fall away and baring your breast to him. "No more bras," he mumbled, kissing along the nape of your neck as he fondled your chest, leather sliding over your nipples, flicking and twisting the little knob.

"And no more panties."

"Is that a command?" you gasped as you tried to keep your composure despite the clenching of your core and the treacherous slick running down your thighs.

"Call it a work instruction," Pantalone chuckled before drawing away, his hands leaving your throbbing nerves behind lonely as you staggered forward, catching yourself on the table. Everything in you screamed to hide and defend your body, but when you felt him grip the arms of your overall, you knew it wouldn't be the one to protect you any longer.

Reluctantly, you slid off the orange prison wear, letting it fall to the floor. Behind you, Pantalone let out a deep, hungry breath, and you didn't dare to turn around to see what expression he was making. Whether it was mockery or lust, you simply didn't want to see it. When he gripped you by the neck, you leaned forward, ass in the air, as Pantalone pressed his crotch to your backside, grinding the bulge in his pants into the softness of your rear.

He grew more and more assertive, forcing you on your tiptoes as he rested his body on top of yours, dry-humping into you with need. Heat was building between you two and inside you. Strange, considering you were still against all of this, and you two weren't at a stage where the stimulation was too much to bear. Maybe Pantalone's desire was slowly wearing off on you, the hot pants brushing against your earlobes, paired with his groans, tickling something deep inside your core.

Whatever it was, you knew you had to get this whole act over with quickly. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble and come undone because of him just like that. Even if it was just for feeling better about yourself and your decision, you had to prove to yourself that you could be strong and withstand all of this.

A herculean task.

Your trousers were already sliding off just from the grinding when Pantalone decided to ban them into pooling around your ankles instead. Standing in only your panties before him was humiliating, but you knew it wasn't enough for him yet. Until you were stark naked and very likely out of your mind embarrassed, he'd not stop. And he proved it to you by hooking his finger around your panties, tearing them off you, and making them unwearable, his work instruction becoming more and more reality.

Now, he had much easier access to you than you liked. Without any straining fabric in the way, your cunt got to experience the leathery touch of his gloves. Cold fingers caressed your heated folds, the nerves of your clit zapping electric shocks through you. But no matter how hard you flinched or tried to escape forward, Pantalone was always there to put you back in your place against him, never letting go.

By the time he was finished teasing you, you felt dizzy from the pleasure, barely hearing him unzip his own pants until you felt the curve of his cock resting against your throbbing cunt. Pantalone wet his cock in slow, agonizing slides through your slick folds until you were ready to welcome him, his tip settling perfectly against your entrance.

You both let out moans in unison as he sunk into you. However, when you thought he had already pushed completely inside you, Pantalone made yet another step forward, sheathing every inch in your pussy, your ass bumping against his hips. There was no one you could think of that ever filled you so deeply. Whose curve aligned perfectly with your insides, and who made you feel like you would lose it after only entering you.

"I chose well," Pantalone sighed in satisfaction, breath shuddering before he pulled out slowly, treasuring the feeling of your walls clinging on to him desperately. And without warning, he plunged back in, leaving you gasping as you were pounded against his desk. There was nothing you could do but endure the exciting tingle of pleasure, capturing your every body function and every thought.

Your mind wanted to be strong, and your body just really wanted to cum.

"Move," Pantalone gasped, pulling you up by the arm. His cock slipped out of you as he directed you around the table, leaving a mess dripping out as you mewled. Immediately, you put your hand over your mouth, trying to hide the sounds that threatened to escape, but Pantalone merely laughed, amused by your frugal tries to deny your feelings.

Getting around first, he plopped down on his chair heavily, not caring about the image he usually upheld so well. Legs spread and arms on either side of the armrests, he seemed more like a king commanding his subjects than a respectable boss. Though... with the kind of contract you two had, you weren't sure if he had ever been reputable in the first place.

His cock, erect and throbbing, awaited you with a slick sheen, and you felt your core clench in longing as your eyes fell on it, long and curved, a dangerous and greedy thing just like the man attached to it. "Get on top," Pantalone instructed, waving his hand for you impatiently.

Laying your palm in his, you slung your leg over his, trying to find a space to place your knees. Pantalone pulled you taut against him, one hand grabbing your side, elevating your body until you lost your footing, relying on his support. However, his gaze snapped from the space between your hips and the tip of his cock, a demanding glint in them that made you act without any words needing to be spoken between you two.

Reaching down, you brushed your fingertips over his length, his cock pulsing hard against your hand, demanding to be led back to your entrance so it may sink inside again. However, with how the position was, you assumed Pantalone wanted you to please him, causing you to grip his dick, pleasuring him with your hand first. If it helped him to cum faster, it would only be better for you, but his fingers at your side turned into claws, signaling he wasn't impressed by your teasing.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hips, sliding his tip through your folds until you reached your entrance. You prepared yourself with a deep breath, wanting to slide down in your own tempo, but Pantalone seemed to have a different idea, slamming your hips down and buckling his at the same time. Even with your eyes wide open, you couldn't see anything but lights flicker in your vision. Next thing you knew, you moaned loudly as Pantalone urged you up and down his cock like a fleshlight.

"Mhm-! Not so... Not so f-fast!" you slurred, a smug grin jerking the corners of his lips.

"You do it, then," he relented, letting go of your body. You flopped down like a loose sack of potatoes, panting heavily. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you used them to push yourself up, biting your lip to hold back the moan after you mumbled, "Okay..."

"Okay, what?" Pantalone asked, a slap ringing out as his hand came down on your ass. This surprise was nothing you could bite down, moaning loudly, and a second slap followed right away.

"Okay, Sir!" you corrected yourself, quickening the pace in hopes he'd find it harder to aim.

"That's right," Pantalone huffed, eyes fixed on your breast jiggling before his eyes. "I'll teach you how to be more respectful to the person you belong to. Got it?"

"Mhm--! Yes! Yes, Sir!"

You must have been out of your mind, moaning and rocking your hips on your boss's lap. You'd never done these things for money. Aside from the occasional sigh and groan, the hungry gleam in his eyes, and his fingers digging into your hips, Pantalone gave you no indications or words of his satisfaction. Regardless, there was no turning back now. Not when you could already feel your toes curl.

A knock on the door finally made you regain your conscience, snapping you out of your hazy humping. Your expression grew panicked, but the door was already opening without either of you asking the person to come in. "Sir, I have the weekly reports you wanted--"

You could hear the person's jaw drop as they looked up from the papers they were bringing, eyes landing on your bare ass, their gaze tingling on your skin as it drove upwards, trying to see who it belonged to. Your whole head felt ablaze after being caught in this unseemingly position, your pussy still dripping with all your juices even in this kind of situation.

"Not a good time right now," Pantalone said, waving his hand dismissingly but appearing unbothered otherwise.

"I- I was- There--" the person behind you stammered, and you simply wanted to die the longer you could feel them checking out your body. This was probably the worst case you could have imagined when you took the 'job'. Pantalone sighed, and you recognized his telling signs by now. If you learned anything, then that he wasn't a very patient man.

Gripping you from underneath your thighs, he lifted you up, bucking his hips into you, making you gasp loudly before letting you fall back first on top of his desk. After the initial shock and pain, you forced your eyes open again, staring straight into the eyes of the young guard who had greeted you upon coming in and acted as a secretary to Pantalone. It was infuriatingly embarrassing to be seen like this, disheveled and so close to your orgasm, especially when Pantalone put your legs around his hips, jerking them until you got the hint and wrapped them around him on your own before he plunged back deep inside you.

Covering you with his own body from the horrified and, at the same time, intrigued glances, he looked up at his secretary in annoyance. "Look at them again, and I'll gauge out your eyes. If you have any sense of self-preservation, leave. I am busy."

That finally released the young man from his state of shock. He stumbled over his own feet, muttering apologies to no one in particular and slamming the door behind him, which caused Pantalone to huff. Lowering his gaze back to you, you were still embarrassed beyond belief when he asked, "Was this sufficient?"

"No!" you yelled, immediately lowering your voice after noticing the irritated glint in his eyes after you screamed into his face. "This is terrible! They saw me... doing this... here..."

"I'll install a lock then," he promised calmly, pushing his irritation aside for you and rolling his hips. You let out a frustrated groan as your pleasure spiked again, and Pantalone put his lips to your throat, nibbling on your skin as he pounded into you. You could hardly decide which position had felt the best, but you knew you were done for. Pleasure-wise and your reputation.

"Sir," you whimpered. "I'll... I'll--"

"Cum," he muttered into your collarbone. "I don't mind you feeling pleasure because of me. Just make sure to finish the job."

Nodding meekly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on to him tightly as Pantalone began pounding harder, his cock throbbing inside you, so close to bursting as well. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white as your toes curled, back arching, needily wanting to be closer to him even more so close before being pushed over the edge.

Cumming on this amazing cock wasn't hard, not when it seemed to check off the best spots like a veteran explorer of your body. All the harder was the orgasm. Your moans were no longer muffled. Tears shot in your eyes as you began to see stars again, your nails raking through the uniform jacket with the intent to destroy.

It was over way too fast.

After the height, you crashed too hard, tears overflowing as you realized you couldn't even keep a little bit of your dignity. Soon everyone would know what you were doing with the chief of finances. It wouldn't even be rumors that he was fucking you in his office for money. It would all be true. And what was even worse was Pantalone knowing he had won. He convinced you to play by his rules, obey his commands, and on top of it, made you cum even before himself.

You sobbed as he plowed through your orgasm, heavy breathing that felt like flames licking at you and the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. Reaching over to grip you by your hair, Pantalone turned your head in front of his, moving forward to kiss you. "N-No!" Already feeling disgusted by yourself, you denied access by averting your face, his orgasm coming and going without him finding refuge and pleasure in a kiss.

When your eyes darted briefly to his face, you expected it to be filled with satisfaction or victorious madness, but instead, he stared at you coldly, bitterly. You hadn't realized this kiss would mean so much, but it seemed like you ruined his orgasm for him, which made you... happy.

Pulling out, you didn't even care that you'd have to clean up the mess he left behind to drip out of you. You sat up slowly, watching as your boss wiped his cock clean before discarding the stained leather gloves, throwing them on top of you. "Get off my desk," he commanded, and you strained your tense back, feeling the pain from being thrown on the wood roughly before. You managed to get down before Pantalone sat in his chair again, rolling back up to his desk with an irritated expression on his face.

"Go and get some wet wipes and clean this disgusting mess you made," Pantalone instructed, and you gulped, clearly hearing his anger through his voice, even though you found the blame unfair. Going around the desk, you picked up your clothes, quickly putting them on again.

"I'd love to send you there naked, you know. You probably enjoyed being seen more than you admitted."

Catching his eyes, you gulped, blurting out something you should have rather kept inside. "Are you really that mad because I didn't kiss you?"

You could feel the anger emanating from him as he stared at you, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist. "S-Sorry," you muttered quickly, lowering your gaze and hurrying to zip up your overalls (all the way!) before running to the door. You dreaded having to look into the faces in the office space waiting just outside. Still, it was better than staying inside with the mad tyrant of the financial department. You had a feeling you'd not get away unharmed if you dared to test his patience any longer.

However, just as you wanted to turn the knob, a hand slammed into the door next to you. You jerked away but were grabbed by your upper arm and kept in place right beside him.

"I think you forgot who's in charge here. You need me, but you're just a diversion for me—a break from work. There are enough other gullible prisoners dying for a chance at what you have. Never forget I fucking own you. You signed the contract. You're mine to do with whatever I please. Don't you dare ever deny me again."

Pantalone didn't allow you to look into his eyes, but you were glad that he stood behind you so you didn't have to face him as he spat these words into your ear. Gulping, you nodded, his grip tightening around your arm for a moment before he let go, taking a step back.

"Kiss me," he said, voice as monotone as it sounded dangerous. It was his way of proving you really understood what he just said and your position. What you meant to him. That you were caving and submitting to him, or you knew he'd make your life miserable. It made you want to cry again, pathetic and captured in his scheme as you were, but you choked back the tears, turning around and stepping up to him.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheeks with shaky hands. Your gut revolted at even the thought of having to kiss this man, but you took a quick breath, calming yourself. It was just a kiss. What could go wrong? You already rode his dick and let him make you cum harder than anyone ever before, you shouldn't feel this ashamed with simple and insignificant affection in comparison.

And yet, watching his features soften as he leaned down, you were horrified to see the affection in his gaze just before your lips united. You wanted to end it quickly, but his arms wrapped around your midriff, pulling you close, unwilling to let go as he licked over your lips, slipping inside as you gasped. Pantalone didn't let you back away, involving you in a deep kiss, no matter how much you clawed your fingers into his arms, kissing you again and again until you were gasping for air.

But only when he was satisfied with tasting you did he finally let go, pushing you from him as if it meant nothing to him, turning and walking back to his desk. "The wipes?" he asked goadingly, patting the wood, discarding you just like that, high and dry.

"Of course..." you mumbled, confused about the sudden change in his wants. Just now, he had been angry about you not kissing him, and now he wanted nothing from you all of a sudden?

"Of course what?"

"Of course, Sir!" you corrected yourself, hurrying to leave the room, even with the horrified faces awaiting you on the other side.

Leaving behind one smug Pantalone, watching his toy running off to get the supplies so they could clean the desk before he'd make them dirty it once again. Over and over until your mind would be so broken, you'd not know anything other than the pleasure of his cock. Touching his fingers to his lips, he could still feel your plump softness caressing them, your taste lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Next time, you'd kiss him as he claimed you. And if his workday wasn't long enough, Pantalone was sure he could find a reason to take you home with him so you could warm his cock all night long. There was still so much he wanted to see—mostly you choking on his cock, crying, and begging him to make you cum. You were the best candidate he had in a while, and there was no better stress relief than a desperate little prisoner writhing beneath him. He might not be as patient as to wait days again for you to come around and fulfill all the things he wanted to do to you.

But he would, most definitely, get his fill for what he was paying.

Tag List: [How to get added]

@just-simping-over-genshin​ | @whatthefuckbabysalad | @tonightwrites​

#Pantalone #yandere Pantalone #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere!genshin impact #Prison Project #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[pilot-boi]

Loving the royalty au; what were Weiss and Pyrrha’s early interactions like?

Strictly professional

Weiss is cold towards Jaune because he represents the shackles her father is trying to put on her, but she doesn’t have any reason to dislike Pyrrha. Even when it becomes obvious that Jaune has a crush on her, Weiss doesn’t care that much because the marriage isn’t being arranged because of love

She recognizes that Pyrrha is a capable warrior, even going so far as to think that there’s probably much more important applications of her skills than protecting her idiot husband-to-be, but well…

Pyrrha isn’t a noble

Early Weiss is still very much influenced by her father’s thinking, unfortunately. She hates him, but there’s only so much you can do when you grow up so sheltered and closed off

Unlike Jacques, Weiss doesn’t think Pyrrha is less than her. She just doesn’t pay her much mind

Pyrrha actually gives Weiss a bit of a shovel talk in regards to Jaune, and that’s when our ice princess starts to take notice of her. Because in her kingdom not even NOBLES would dare talk to her like that

It’s… refreshing

#rwby #pyrrha nikos #weiss schnee #mine #ftkicker98 #royalty au #asks

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: APPLICATION ANXIETY (SEASON 3, EPISODE 3, PART 4)

I didn't think I'd be going into four chapters+ for this filler/completely lacking in boy drama episode, but here we are.

Shady Taylor Business as per uzh. He’s committed so many white collar crimes that he’s in over his head trying to keep track of them all. Does ayone else just think of Taylor as the Mayor? He’s technically “town selectman", which is a real thing, and after many years I've finally looked up what a selectman does. I won't bore you with the details, but somehow Taylor got put into a position of authority that involves a heavy responsibility for other people's money. I know we have seen the actual mayor of The Hollow before, but only twice so far, I think. Taylor is treading into the shark infested waters of airing private grievances with Luke Danes publicly, again. Has Taylor learned nothing from the last time he tried this stunt at the emergency meeting he called about Jess and his sidewalk drawing? He really loves poking that hornet's nest. It's not going to be pretty.

Miss Patty waving at Rory and Lorelai. She is such a treasure. A horny, horny treasure. She must be protected at all costs.

Taylor calls his malt shop a "necessary service", which immediately calls me back to our comedian friend who predicted Taylor would classify his malt shop as a "necessary service" in order to stay open during the pandemic. How was that guy so spot on about everything?

That's real slimy, Taylor. Taylor Doose is slime. And not the fun kind of slime, either. According to Slimy Doose, If a 3/4ths majority of the town decide Taylor should have that building then he gets that building. It's just that simple! Check the towns bylaws! Which were probably written by Taylor! Why does Taylor want to run Luke out of town so badly? His diner is literally the only attraction in town that keeps the town economy churning (well, not Rory and Lorelai's money, but everyone else's). Taylor spends 7 years trying to find the money to fix a small wooden bridge. Like Tumblr, behind the scenes, The Hollow is being held together with paperclips and fairy dust. If tourists ever find out that Luke's special coffee is nothing more than ordinary Folgers, it's all over.

No, Salty is NOT going to research the nitty gritty details of eminent domain for you to determine if Luke is correct. You're on your own, people. I'm here to make the masturbation jokes.

Now things are real getting real loopy doopy as Taylor stands his ground that his proposed soda shop is even more necessary than a hospital. DId someone vote this guy in? According to Google, yes. A town selectman is an elected position. The people who voted for Taylor may even be voting in larger elections, which is a scary thought. Ya'll voted for this putz, you live with him.

KICK HIS ASS!

RORY YOU ARE NOT HELPING. Sit down! Oh, you already are. Well, keep sitting. And stop talking. The town decides they love their beloved coffee proprietor Luke so much that they refuse to side with him and don't give a flying cupcake if he gets screwed into next week. If this were my unrated Gilmore Girls spinoff, The Hollow, which explores the gritty realism of small tourist town life, the Malt shop goes under in a few years because the economies of these towns are very shaky. Someone is going to turn around and Eminent Domain Taylor's ass and bulldoze his businesses to build luxury townhomes.

If looks could kill, man. Someone PLEASE edit a cartoon bloody axe or hatchet into this screen shot for me. I'm going to use this face on the promo posters for my horror movie series, "Blood In The Hollow." Luke's Revenge.

Rory saying "Ice cream soda, yum" and a couple of elderly people nodding is enough to count as a majority vote. I know they worship Rory in the Hollow for some reason but how does she have that much power? Can't we get some kind of auditor in here to examine the electoral process in The Hollow? Then an accountant to audit Taylor's financial books.

Yay! We hate you Luke! Go get fucked! But keep the free coffee coming.

Even after what she just did, you know she’s going to shamelessly march right over to the diner where she won’t pay him for her food and coffee. I saw Lane unaccompained at the meeting, and started thinking since Mrs Kim apparently lets Lane go to town meetings unsupervised, they're a perfect opportunity for her to get out from the watchful eye of her mother and get up to some teenage rebellion/shenanigans. I still say she should have hooked up with Jess to give her mother a coronary.

Welcome, Shenanigans. We get an introductory story about Rygalski's musical interests, which Lane finds rather keen. Keen is like my new favorite word. It's old fashioned sounding so it just works with these old fashioned teenagers.

Get a hold of yourself woman!

Don't underestimate this geek in a dorky sweater. He's smooth.

Could she be any dorkier? Sheesh.

Don't tell me Lorelai doesn't looks jealous watching Rory kiss Dean. Dean actually listens patiently while Rory updates him about her life, and this behavior continues to feel highly suspicious. Is it because he was at home jerking off while everyone else was at the meeting and now he's not so cranky?

Don't worry Deano, you won't be lonely. There are other fish in the Hollow. Maybe you'll even manage to trap some poor innocent teenage girl and brainwash her into marrying you. I'm still not sure how he pulled that off.

I saw these oven mitts on Amazon yesterday and thought of Lindsey Lister. Whenever she's cooking one of Dean's meatloaves, she's quietly side eyeing the box of rat poison under the sink. Rory is mildly irritated because his question is "blunt and out of nowhere." and a discussion About Our Future is underway.

I'm going to keep a scoring system for this discussion: +1 point to Rory because Dean's question was really "out of nowhere" and dropped on suddenly her late at night. +1 point to Dean because his question wasn't totally unreasonable. Minus 1 point for Dean because Rory hasn't even been accepted to Harvard, no less any college, yet. + half point for Dean doing the bare minimum and believing in the idea that Rory will get into Harvard later. Minus 1 point for Dean because even if she did get into college she isn't going to start for another year, so he could have waited like, at least another 6 months before it would matter. Minus 1 point for Dean because there's no guarantee they will even be together a year from now (and they won't be).

Minus 1 point for Rory even entertaining the silly notion that she could have a "Weekends only" relationship with Dean when he is a controlling maniac who tracks her schedule and gets angry if she does not spend every minute of her free time with him. MInus 1 point for Rory engaging in more "I promise I will spend every spare minute of every day that I'm not studying with you" and "we can talk on the phone constantly during the week" negotiations. Enough with the negotiations!! Minus a kajillion points for Dean just because he's rotten hamburger meat. What is he going to do Monday-Friday after he graduates hgh school, without Rory to kick around like his personal hacky sack? Reversing the roles for fun: Dean: What are you going to do when I leave for college? Rory:

"Christianne Amanpour spends of a third of her life in foxholes in third world countries! She was on C-Span last week getting an award! And she has a family!" Girl?! Rory Gilmore is comparing her life to that of an award winning, world renowned field journalist, someone who travels the world and risks her life on a regular basis, to her life as a boring high school student dating another boring high school student, some illiterate 17 year old softball playing clown from Stars Hollow Connecticut whose own mother is still trying to abandon him at a gas station, hoping that a pack of wild dogs will find and adopt him as one of their own instead. If Christianne Amanpour can survive being blown up in a war torn country and go home to her husband and family at the end of the day, then surely Dean Forrester and Rory Gilmore can make it work. Rory, pleaase. Settle down. Minus -2 points for that sheer ridiculousness. I'm not sure Dean even knows who Christianne Amanpour is, anyway. This goes on WAY too long so I will summarize so I can get on with my life and finally finish out this episode. R: Dean you should to go to college in Boston D: I'm going to junior college R: Junior college in Boston?! D: No dorm rooms R: Rent an apartment! D: With what money? R:Why are you being like this? D: Realistic? R: Stop being so serious D: Forget it Jackson: What happens to Rory's room when she moves out, can i rent it out to put my tools in it? Lorelai: Idk (panic sweats at the thought of losing her codependent relationship with Rory if she moved out) Springsteen (Harvard Dinner Guy) on answering machine: I looked at Rory's records and even though I'm just some rich guy who graduated decades ago and I don't actually attend Harvard anymore or work at Harvard and I only met her once over an awkward dinner where she barely said anything, she's definitely a shoo in for Harvard, she may as well just pack her bags and move in right now. like she should find a dorm room that's already occupied and kick out whoever's living there already and take over their room. I'm going to tell everyone I know that Rory is definitely for sure going to Harvard there has never been a more Harvardy student that has ever ever Harvarded before. The end. Things Googled While Watching GIlmore Girls: Selectman, is a selectman elected, codependent relationship Things Not Googled: Eminent domain

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #shady taylor business #gilmore girls season 3 #application anxiety #you guys #I think my dashboard dilemma is fixed #this is the second one in a row that I could actually see immediately after posting #hallelujah #still holding my breath though #I was having trouble remembering some of the early season 3 episodes and now a few of them have come back to me #the next one's a good one

[bumblekastclips]

BODY SWAP: Whisper & Silver

KYLE CROUSE: Alright, here is one from Normal Person, "now I just want to complete the trilogy of generic body swap scenarios. Final Hedgehog Silver swaps with Whisper, how would this comical mishap go? To add more to this Whisper is only restricted to Silver's Telekinesis." So she can't time-travel, I guess, huh? Or whatever else he can do?

IAN FLYNN: Hmm. Well, I mean, are we gonna say... are we gonna say that she can teleport, or is that an extension of his telekinetic abilities? I think it's supposed to be... KYLE: Uh, I think that's an extension of it. IAN: We won't count Chaos Control, then. I think that's a different discipline. KYLE: That's Shadow's thing. IAN: Although, how terrifying is the idea of a sniper assassin that can stop time? Oh, God. KYLE: [Laughing] She's -- Uh, I mean -- She's already overpowered enough as it is, you give her Silver's powers on top of that, and, uh... I mean... hm! IAN: [Laughing] So, Whisper in Silver's body is going... KYLE: She can't use her wispon, apparently, as Silver. I don't know why not, Silver has hands and eyes, you could-- IAN: [Chuckles] It's for the sake of the scenario. KYLE: I know. IAN: The TK particles mess with the electronics. Sure, why not? KYLE: Alright! IAN: Uh, she is going to take a dedicated amount of time to figure out how this works. Like, small movements at first; floating, rising, moving small objects, manipulating them within space, learning the limitations and the scope of it. And if they haven't swapped back by the time she's figured it out, she's going to be the most pointed and, uh, decisive TK user you can imagine. None of this big, grandiose, giant meteor of junk, no systematic trying to rubber stamp you with semi-trucks -- she's gonna find something thin and sharp and launch it from a great distance before you even know what's goin' on. Like, that container is going to move, close around you, and go into the deepest end of that lake and stay there until the job is done. She is going to flit in between various rooftops and teleport into vantage points you would know -- you don't even know she's coming! She is going to be absolutely terrifying. The only saving grace is that she glows when she's using her powers, so maybe, MAYBE you stand a chance... you don't. KYLE: [Laughing] You don't! You really don't! IAN: Silver, meanwhile, after he gets done geeking out about being the Guardian Angel of the Battlefield, uh... he can't get it to work. And for the longest time, he thinks it's just user-issue, like it should be pretty straight -- it's got a trigger. You pull the trigger, why does it not do...? Until he realizes the wisps are actually stopping him. They are not gonna let him fire off a single shot until he knows how to use this equipment. So he hast to learn how to wear the mask properly, he has to learn how to operate it, he has to listen to their instructions on how this goes, and he has to go through the drills, and he has to take his time, and THEN he can use the gun, okay? Okay. And then once he's got his learner's permit, I -- he's terrifying. Like, he is not as, uh, precise with the application, but he does know how to maximize the effect. KYLE: Uh-huh, yeah. IAN: He is going to move into position, launch that rocket, follow up with a hammer strike, and you don't even know what happened. You were just havin' an ice cream, and all of a sudden boom! Bang! Boom! Colorful lights everywhere! And you're gone. KYLE: So basically, both of them would be terrifying, and possibly more terrifying than if they -- than before switching bodies. IAN: I mean, the only difference is their volume level. Y'know, Silver -- Whisper would say, [quietly] "Boom. Headshot." Silver would go, [maniacal cackling in Silver's voice] "Hahaha, gotcha!" KYLE: [Laughing] Yeah. Yeah, that's true. Trying to imagine that voice coming out of Whisper, though. [Laughing] Weird. IAN: [Laughing] God. Silver -- Whisper teleporting into position, about to drop a city block on somebody? [quietly] "It's no use." KYLE: Uh-huh. Someone's looking -- [laughing] someone sees Silver and thinks, "Hey, Silver, what are 'ya squinting for?" IAN: [chuckling] Let's just say, if it was up to Whisper, we wouldn't be having a discussion of the Iblis Trigger. KYLE: No. IAN: It would be past-tense. KYLE: No, the-- yeah. Yeah. Yeah. [chuckling]

#silver the hedgehog #whisper the wolf #idw silver #idw whisper #idw sonic #sonic the hedgehog #body swap #ian flynn #kyle crouse #bumblekast

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Icy Slips and Little Lies

On the second day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A fluffy ice skating fic where Sam gets caught slipping.

Christmas Song Pairing: “Plea for the Holidays" by Marloma

Trope: Ice Skating

~~~

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: None!

Words: 1.6k

~~~

“You know, I’m onto you,” you said to your boyfriend, as focused as you could be with most of your attention remaining on the couples and families around you, the inconvenient divots in the ice from where other skaters had tried to stop with the tip of their skate blades (and hopefully ate shit), and your balance.

All while your baby-giraffe boyfriend glided smoothly besides you without a care in the world.

He let out a short laugh, and you had to smile at the familiar sound of it. Even if you wouldn’t be taking your eyes off the ground, you could see his goofy, crooked smile in your mind’s eye. “Why? For what? I’m just minding my own business over here,” Sam said, putting one arm out and bracing himself as you stumbled a little bit on the chipped ice, giving you something to clutch onto like a safety rail for stability.

You were lucky that he was stronger than he looked; years of handling his less-than-feather-light instrument and honing the forearm muscle it took to move his fingers as fast as he did for the songs he played really came in handy sometimes (most of the time, actually…in a lot of different applications). 

And Sam was right – he really wasn’t doing anything particularly suspicious — not in the eyes of anybody else, at least. But you had insider knowledge. Insider knowledge that last year, when you were the one to make a date at the local ice rink thinking that, ‘oh, he grew up in Michigan, surely he’s a natural on the ice,” you would get to see Sam in his natural element.

But that was not the case. At all.

In fact, you’d quickly found out that Sam’s parents, bless their hearts, hadn’t let Sam try out for hockey when he was younger because he was just that bad on the ice. And he hadn’t gotten better in all the years since. Until today, apparently.

“You’re…good.”

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Sam joked, and he winked at you when you turned your head to give him an exasperated glare, “be more specific.”

You gestured at the ice. “This, Sam. You’re good at this somehow, when I watched you almost take out an entire family in one go last year.”

Sam stayed uncharacteristically quiet, and you looked over to see a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Or,” he amended, sensing your argument brewing as soon as the words left his mouth, “I don’t know what you’re implying, at least.”

A new Christmas song started playing over the loudspeaker, and the clock on the scoreboard began a countdown to the next time that everyone would have to clear the rink so that the Zamboni could make a round and smooth everything out. You pointed at it, saying, “One more loop and then hot chocolate?”

“Anything for you, milady,” he said sweetly, leading you around again, no problems to be had.

Letting go of your suspicions for a moment, you took a second to appreciate just how happy and content he seemed. He’d come so far since the two of you had met and started dating, and you’d seen him in states of mind across the spectrum. But this? Glowing, even under the bright fluorescent rink lights, as he held your hand and hummed along to the Christmas tune? 

This was by far your favorite.

But favorite or not, you weren’t about to let him off the hook, seeing as he hadn’t even so much as stumbled this time. “I think you secretly went and got ice skating lessons,” you said, a small smile playing at your lips at your theory. 

Perhaps with anyone else, it would be outlandish, but Sam couldn’t stand not being able to do something at least averagely. It was the almost-Yale-bound overachiever peeking through his stoner facade.

But Sam reacted appropriately, letting out a honk and squeezing your hand in amusement. “Super secret skating lessons? What – you think that I blew off band practice just to come and get lessons from some meathead high school hockey player?”

“Yep.”

“For the sole, once-a-year date that we go on where I need this skill?”

Again, you nodded. “Yep.” You grew more and more confident with every word Sam said. This was his favorite way to weasel out of telling the truth – first he’d make you doubt yourself by oversimplifying your viewpoint so that it seemed outrageous, and if that didn’t work, then he’d try to change the subject, and then, if he really didn’t want to admit something, he would lie outright. 

“That’s some conspiracy theory, alright,” he chuckled, leading you towards the exit and slowing you both down so that you could exit the rink without tripping. “Hey, do you happen to know if this concession stand makes their hot chocolate with milk or water?”

Strike two.

You hobbled over to the lockers and started undoing the lock you’d been assigned to retrieve some cash, shrugging and refusing to let Sam off the hook. “I dunno,” you said dismissively, cocking your head when you turned back to him. “What did you learn first? How to stop? Correct skating form? How to fall?”

Sam blinked and then raised his brows. “Not sure what you’re talking about. My brain is a rock – even if I wanted to learn, it doesn’t soak up anything anymore. Probably all the loud noises on stage. Maybe the alcohol.” 

The snort you let out was ungraceful, but it made Sam smile, so you were fine with sounding like a bull in public for that reward. The line was short for concessions, with most skaters trying to skate until the clock ran out, and Sam hadn’t taken his amused gaze off of you. “The truth always comes out,” you said sagely, stepping up to the lacquered wooden bar, where one young woman and one young man were working.

“Sam!” the boy crowed, eyes lighting up as he turned to his coworker. “I told you,” he murmured before grinning at your boyfriend, who squeezed his eyes shut and flushed. 

“...Hey, Jack,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your curious, yet pointed gaze. “How’ve you been?”

The boy kept on grinning, content making small talk, as there was no one in line behind you. “Good! Have you been skating a lot? Did you ever get the spin down? Sorry we couldn’t keep lessons going,” Jack said, immediately outing Sam as your face grew subtly smug. You didn’t want to make the poor boy behind the counter uncomfortable, but you would give your boy all the shit possible.

Talk about karma.

“It’s all good,” Sam said as he waved off the apology. “I had music stuff, you had…school.” The statement hung in the air, and you realized that what he said earlier was so absurd that it really was the truth, and that was his strategy to get you off his back – he couldn’t have possibly known that it would blow up in his face so rapidly. “Could we get a couple of hot chocolates?”

Sam drew the transaction out, likely not looking forward to the ribbing you’d give him once you were out of earshot, but eventually, the buzzer beeped and people started filing in, looking for a snack, so you took your paper cups to one of the tables in the next room and sat in tense silence for a moment.

“Before you say anything,” Sam finally said, watching you grin into your hot chocolate, “you should know that I did it for you.”

The uncharacteristically affectionate statement – not that Sam was unaffectionate by any means, but grand verbal gestures just weren’t really your thing – stunned you, and you swallowed the sharp teasing that had been balancing on your tongue, so ready to fall out, in favor of curiosity. “For me?”

Sam mumbled something into his cup, so close to his drink that it actually bubbled around his words.

“Oh, sorry Mermaid Man,” you deadpanned, leaning forward on the table, “I don’t speak bubbles. Can you say that again?”

He huffed, fixing you with a lightly exasperated glare. “You’re so mean,” he pouted, but he quickly revealed his joking expression when you smiled a little softer and gave a small kiss to his hand. “We got kicked out of the couple’s skate last year,” he sighed. “And you were really looking forward to that. So, I felt bad, and not just because I almost took down Ethyl and Ron.”

At the memory of Sam, gripping for dear life on the suspenders of a sweet old man who thankfully hadn’t minded that your boyfriend almost sliced his kneecap off, you chuckled. It wasn’t because of Ethyl and Ron that you’d been kicked out – it wasn’t technically Sam’s fault at all. Sure, he’d pissed off a few other people who weren’t nearly as sweet as the old couple had been, but it was the moody middle-aged man who’d reported Sam to the apologetic rink supervisor that had ruined your fun in the end, not your boyfriend’s awful skating.

“Oh, Sammy,” you laughed, hopping out of your seat so that you could drape yourself over him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I do love you.” Sam grabbed your hands where they hung by his chest and leaned back into you. With the opportunity there, you snuffled into his ear. “Thank you for trying. Even if I still believe you did it for your wounded pride more than me.”

You were gone, then. Back at to the lockers to get your skates and surely fail in your attempt to outrun Sam.

“Hey!” Sam cried, in both offense and surprise, tipping the rest of his cooling hot chocolate back before he raced you over to the benches, where you were already lacing up your skates again. 

~~~

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#12 days of tropemas 2022 #tropemas 2022 #gvf fics #greta van fleet fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #gvf fluff #sam kiszka fluff

[theworldoffostering]

DD requested a classic chocolate on chocolate birthday cake so this is what I made for her.

We are heading out shortly to take her to lunch and then having cake and ice cream with my parents and opening a few gifts.

I’m going to try to get out for a quick walk to try to destress. I spent my morning/afternoon caking and shopping with Ms. 6 (and NB who insisted on tagging along). The amount of energy it takes me to manage that type of situation right now is astounding to me. It was fine—even good. Ms. 6 was happy but I am beyond drained from being a cheerleader and trying to help choose appropriate teen clothing for school that keeps her happy and meets (super minimum) dress code standards, as well as being the thinking brain for most of my family members who are struggling with ADHD.

DH seems to have extremely limited skills for being on time (problematic when kids need to be dropped off and picked up on time), prioritizing tasks, and motivating himself to do super necessary things like getting a job. I’m weary and angry as I have been the breadwinner for nine of our nearly 13 years of marriage. He needs to be working a legitimate job making actual money as our adoption assistance is ending for two of our kids in the next year or so, and we are not all going to make it on my $53k/year. Cue further stress for me: finding the jobs, walking him through the application process, nagging him to ensure he’s met the deadline. I had no idea this is what was in store when we married. He wasn’t diagnosed then and it’s a lot easier to manage crap when you’re only taking care of yourself, so even if he was diagnosed, I don’t think I would have been prepared for what we are dealing with right now.

Any advice from people with ADHD or those successfully married to a partner who is? I’m really struggling as my attention is needed elsewhere, and frankly I’m beyond tired.

#adhd #living with mental illness #birthdays #birthday cake #caking #shopping #parenting is hard #parenting teens

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Vast!Jon Au - time for some REVEALS

Oh, oh, oh, there are some BIG CLUES as to what's going on in this scene.

Fair warning: We don't know no stinking timeline. I am back on my self-indulgent bullshit, y'all, and that means it's ALL going in the pot.

Martin/Jon Childhood Friends

Vast!Jon, professional photographer

Lonely!Martin, YouTube baker

A plane crash! Angst! Drama!

Old guys playing dice with the universe!

Stoker brothers! Archivist Sasha!

Agnes Montague?

Mike Crew???

Nothing is sacred here.

And now... phase two.

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

A week of nothing is good for them all, surely.

Jon and Martin text constantly, but Jon will not show his face, or say what he’s doing. So that’s fine.

Sasha swears she’s okay, and shows up for dinner with the Stokers. She won’t talk about Jon. So that’s fine.

Martin is sure none of this is fine.

But he’s in a holding pattern until Friday, which is when he must be at the top of his game. He spends some of his waning bank account on a haircut and a manicure, ensures his clothing and makeup are on point, and prepares for the show of his life.

Not one job application he's sent out has gotten a nibble.

This Lukas thing, whatever it is, has to work.

#

Tim calls it The Martin Effect.

Danny calls it a little bit spooky.

Martin calls it working the room, and considers it an easy performance. Even when performing for a bunch of weirdos.

The Lukas family is… more than a little bit weird, actually?

They’re all tall and freakishly pale, which has to be genetic. Eyes like ice, all of them. They stand in a cluster, watching their guests, like freaky gods made of stone and misanthropy.

Oh, their smiles are friendly, and their handshakes are good, but Martin is skilled at reading people and knows damn well not one of them is actually friendly at all.

But they sure do have a fancy as fuck house.

They'd invited him to their manor, in Kent - which is nearly eighty miles from London, and would have been an automatic no (Martin has seen horror movies) - except that they prefaced the invite by explaining it had to be on a certain date because others’ schedules weren’t very flexible.

Those others were several people like him (nobodies) and several of those YouTubers mentioned in the note (nobodies who’d made good).

The Lukases even sent a car to get him. With drinks.

Fancy. 

Also weirdly lonely, because there was a divider so he couldn’t even speak to the driver, and the car wasn’t a limo but it was too big, and Martin sat in the back and played on his phone and felt severely out of place.

He’s still doing this.

The Mooreland House came looming out of an unseasonable fog like something in a ghost story. Huge, all gray stone, somehow both absurdly posh and weirdly featureless, it does not feel welcoming.

Martin arrived at the same time as everyone else, coordinated. 

Then it was awkward-as-fuck meetup time, which is fine by him.

“No, that’s completely reasonable,” he says to his fellow nobody’s absolute rant about comment misbehavior. “It feels very personal, really.”

His fellow nobody beams like Martin gave them a prize.

Martin doesn’t mean a word because the rant is stupid. They’re internet comments. Yes, humans make them, but it’s humans on the other side of a screen, faceless, nameless, person-less.

Which is how they view you, even though they have your face and name, he thinks, but outwardly commiserates with BabyBrian (whose makeup isn’t very good, but Martin won’t tell them that), then moves on to meet the next nobody in line.

He’s spent time with nearly all the nobodies now. It’s horribly familiar; same as moving every few months and first trying to make friends, then moving every few months and just trying to make peace, same as not mattering and nobody mattering and sinking slowly into himself and his mum not caring, until they came to Bournemouth, when he was six, and his father walked away, and mum didn’t want to move again.

And Martin found Jon.

And for the first time in his life, felt seen.

He remembers that. Even though he was young, he remembers meeting Jon, more clearly than he recalls his father’s face.

But that doesn’t matter, because none of these people are Jon. 

It’s so damn fake. Martin’s good at fake. He knows how to stammer just so, when to drop his eyes, how to smile. 

Just keep it together, he tells himself, because he doubts very highly that the Lukas family (who is watching all of this with unreadable expressions) is going to give them all the golden ticket.

It’s obviously some kind of competition, though to what criteria, he doesn’t know. 

So. He’s himself.

The part of himself that doesn’t have Jon, that is.

There are two nobodies left to talk to in this group, and lucky him, they’re standing together, making it easy. “Hello!” says Martin brightly as he walks over.

So, two things immediately jump out at him.

One: they are absolutely nothing alike, but when they turn as one to look at him, he feels in his core that they are absolutely the same.

Two: that something same is whatever horror now lives in Jon.

It damn near throws him.

They’re connected. They’re serving evil gods. He’s certain.

Martin smiles more brightly to cover his spike of terror and offers his hand. “Martin. I bake muffins.”

The guy responds first, smiling just as brightly and shaking his hand. “Mike. I do optical illusions.”

“Oh, I’ve seen those!” says Martin brightly. “I recognize your voice. CrewsClues, right?” It is a hell of a channel. Obviously, it must be camera tricks, some kind of manipulation, but no one’s ever figured out how he does it.

For the first time, Martin is afraid that maybe it isn’t technical prowess behind those tricks.

This guy can livestream, and while livestreaming, twist a road into spirals, or make it seem like the building he’s walking by has just rusted itself to holes and timber, to mold and curling paint. Fascinating stuff.

Mike also does gross food stuff, but Martin loves food, and won't think about that.

However, he wonders why the hell this guy isn’t on camera.

Mike is fucking hot. Fit, toned, tanned; nearly white hair, shocking blue eyes - and, intriguingly, the branches of some kind of lightning-scar peeking above his shirt to kiss his throat.

Maybe he doesn’t go on camera because his smile is as fake as Martin’s.

Something in the eyes…

Mike Crew is not a friendly person, and Martin logs him away as dangerous.

“That’s me,” says Mike. “This is Agnes.”

Agnes is… Well. Intense is one way to put it. She is unblinking, still as a sheathed knife, and does not smile. Her hair is long and auburn, her eyes seem almost orange, and she’s nearly as tall as Martin.

She also doesn’t shake hands, apparently. “Hello.”

“She’s got that It All Burns channel,” says Mike.

“Oh! Oh, that’s… wow. Fascinating,” says Martin, looking fascinated, internally terrified.

It All Burns somehow combines an unnerving, visceral fear of the dark - of what’s in the dark, unseen - with sudden and violent flame, and there’s never any way to know just what she’s going to set on fire.

Martin hadn't even know the channel was run by a she. The host never speaks.

Of course, it isn’t real, say the comments, because it’s illegal, the things she burns - from as small as fancy men’s watches to entire derelict flats. Because someone would have caught her if she were actually doing arson, and besides - no matter what she’s burning, the flame she sets always looks the same.

It’s white. 

The last time Martin glanced at her comments, speculation was still rife as just what she was doing to make flame white, regardless of fuel.

He stopped checking after that. Agnes’s videos disturb him.

Agnes disturbs him more.

Now that he knows monsters are real… “It’s great to meet you,” he chirps, smiling brightly. “Hey, can I refill your drinks?”

“Naw, I’m about to bail,” says Mike with a shrug that stretches his half-buttoned shirt (white, to make his tanned skin more interesting). “I don’t think this is for me, anyway. I was curious, but I don’t really need the help.”

“Lucky you,” Martin laughs. “Well, I’m glad I got to meet you.”

“Yeah,” says Mike, with an unexpected and appreciative look. “You’re cuter than on your videos. Maybe we should collab, sometime.”

Martin laughs like that wasn’t absolutely audacious flirting. “I don’t really know what baking and illusions could do together.”

“Could do a test. See what happens to muffins over time.”

Mike had a couple of live feeds constantly monitoring food allowed to rot.

Martin pushes those out of his head, because they’re gross. There are maggots.

Why the fuck live feeds like that had an audience, he has no idea, but he’s not letting anything like that near his muffins. “Not a bad idea. Let’s chat about it sometime, okay?”

Mike knows.

He knows he just turned Martin’s stomach.

Mike's smile is cruel.

Martin’s is sweet and sunlight and fresh-found honey.

“See you,” says Mike, and leaves.

“So that was - ” Martin starts, but Agnes is leaving, too. Did they come together? “Not for you, either, huh?” says Martin.

“It’s a trap,” says Agnes.

Martin can’t quite hide this reaction. His eyes go wide, and he goes too still, just for a moment. “What?”

“I like you. I hope you lose,” says Agnes, coat donned, hair pulled free from her collar. She meets his eyes, pinning him again. “Good luck.” And she leaves.

“But what are you - ”

Nope. She’s not going to tell him what the trap is. She’s gone.

Oh, Ariana, we’re really in it now, he thinks hysterically, and sips his drink to cover it.

So does he leave?

He has no other options. He tried to get a job. He tried to get a loan. He has to do this.

He can’t take his mother into his closet-sized flat. Not only would her hospital equipment not fit, they would definitely kill each other within a week.

Jon…

He knows Jon would take him in.

He knows Jon would spend his own money to care for Martin’s mother.

Martin will not do that. He’s refused the offer before. He won’t.

He doesn’t even know why, but he won't.

“Excuse me, everyone,” says a cheerful voice, and Martin turns to find yet another Lukas has joined the fray.

This one’s different, though. He’s not so pale. His smile reaches his eyes. “Thank you all for coming! My name’s Evan. I guess you all know why you’re here, so I won’t drag it out. Leave the long speeches to the old guys, right?”

And it’s not really funny, but his delivery is so charming, and so personable, that Martin finds himself chuckling with the rest of them. 

“It’s time for your individual interviews. Now, I need to stress this: just be yourself. A front isn’t something anyone can maintain forever, and we’re looking for genuine above all else here. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, only one of you is going to get the sponsorship this quarter.”

Yeah, they’d all guessed. A few people sip drinks, nervously.

Martin is not one of them.

“We’re going in alphabetical order,” says Evan. “And hey - there isn’t anything to be afraid of, all right? In fact, we’re giving you all financial compensation for spending the day with us so nobody feels like we wasted their time. Right! Martin Blackwood?”

Oh good, I’m the guinea pig, he thinks, and raises his hand and smiles. “Present and accounted for!”

“Come on dooooown,” says Evan.

Martin snorts. Only one other person in the room seems to get the extremely dated Price is Right reference - the sea captain, Peter Lukas.

Everyone else's looks are just... stone.

“Follow my aunt Susie.” Evan shakes Martin’s hand. “Love your muffins, by the way. They’re great for parties.”

“Right? Thank you,” Martin says, feeling like this is the first time he’s smiled for real all day, and follows aunt Susie down the hall.

#tma fic #tma au #fic in progress #vast!jon #lonely!martin #agnes montague #mike crew #michael crew #peter lukas #wip #amwriring

[omgkalyppso]

When Étoile needs some peace of mind, is there an activity they like to do or a place they like to go?

Do they involve others or do/go alone?

Thank you so much for the ask!

I let this get away from me for a bit so I was like "I'll just cut out all of THIS and make it its own post" and then tried to rein in what I was trying to say, and then it got away from me again! So. fdskghdksfjgh

magical self harm mentioned. fictional character death mentioned.

For the most part Étoile wouldn't mind their friends or partners being around them when they need some peace of mind. Depending on their level of frustration, they might even need to talk it out or hear someone else's problems to put their own in perspective. Otherwise they're very social. They'll take part in louder activities (drinking), more physically exerting ones (dumb challenges, like climbing), or other nonsense you'd expect from a more rowdy character, like Karlach. They also enjoy social comforts, like just being near someone while they pray or meditate or what have you. And that's where things might start to get tricky.

Auril is an extreme god, and sometimes when Étoile seeks guidance from her, they might intentionally "burn" their hands by holding Ray of Frost for an extended period while reciting their prayers, and comparable expressions of devotion which invoke Auril's cold domain. Unlike Loviatar, the pain isn't the purpose of their divine connection, their practices could make people just as uncomfortable to sit around due to lack of custom.

I think a lot about these sections of the Church of Auril wiki pages:

When an individual wished to become part of the clergy, they had to undergo a ritual called the Embracing. This ritual required the applicant, in only boots and a thin robe, to spend the evening exposed to a raging blizzard. Holy symbols of Auril were painted all over the applicant's body. The applicant was forbidden to use any sort of magic to protect themselves from the cold. Those who survived until morning were deemed worthy by Auril and accepted into her Church.

.

Clerics of the Frostmaidan were bestowed a natural immunity to cold which was identical to the effects of the resist cold spell. Powerful clerics had the innate ability to duplicate the effects of the ice storm spell, and summon ice para-elementals. Clerics of Auril had access to the spells of both the Time and Wards spheres. Unlike rank and file clerics, specialty priests of Auril were unable to turn the undead.

But there are also times where they need to be alone, whether in prayer or just in silence. There may come a time where they feel "alone, together" with Astarion, but that's actually years off.

Étoile does have hobbies, but I can't picture them doing them for the sake of centering themself / finding peace of mind. I can't imagine them being able to focus on reading either — maybe meditation, but that's really conditional.

Anyway. The spawn they follow into the Underdark find ways to severely irritate, confound and distress Étoile. Which leads me to my two other answers to this question. While Étoile may visit Halsin's Moonrise Village, their mountain in Impiltur, and other locales post-canon, they have two semi-permanent homes for the foreseeable future: one in the Underdark, and another in Baldur's Gate. I haven't yet decided whether the Szarr Palace should be in the Lower or Upper City in my headcanons, but it's only a temporary residence for any of the "vampires" (Astarion and his siblings) in my post-canon (more intended as a place for staff and spawn), and they will have their own residences in the city otherwise. Wherever I decide to place the Palace will influence the number of those homes and whether they are in the Upper or Lower City.

Étoile would probably be tempted to have the windows taken out of any residence in Baldur's Gate to allow Astarion (et al) free reign of the space even in daylight, but Astarion would refuse to live in a fucking box, so shutters and curtains and the the security of a coffin for reverie would have to suffice. Étoile would have a room or three depending on the size of residence, two of which would cause Astarion some anxiety: a bedroom, rarely used in place of the master bedroom but still providing the possibility that they expect conflict between them (this is not the room's primary or intended purpose), and a study, which is where they would go to be alone when necessary to find peace of mind (reading and writing letters; some to intentionally be never sent), in which Astarion is welcome, but scrutinized if he goes in alone.

Astarion has his private spaces also but it takes him longer to grow accustomed to not having space that's going to be stolen from under him or shared / invaded by family and masters.

Étoile's third room would be one dedicated to Auril; kept politely clear of where Astarion rests because once they place something of her likeness in there, the room radiates cold. I imagine this room goes questioned by those who know of it, because why have this inconvenience and then not spend more time in there / why would this not be Étoile's default place to go to to find peace of mind — to which their answer would be, if they'd wanted that then they would have stayed on their mountain.

In the Underdark, I have such a specific vision of what their settlement turns into. It wouldn't be anywhere near as grand as I'm picturing after only 6 months into the epilogue, so in those early days, Étoile would just go for a walk, pace the border and their boundaries and find a high point in an outpost to look out over their community.

With magic, Menzoberranzan and the Sword Coast easing the way, House Ienith is technically a functioning town two years post-canon and is maybe a third of the way to being finished to a level of construction that makes it a desirable place to live. But by this time there is a working library with a window overlooking a town square where Étoile can unwind and spy on the vampiric wizards and scholars in their studies. And, more importantly, a river has been diverted to have a channel flow beneath the town and then curved back into the river as a source of renewable water. It's neither fresh nor clean without magical intervention, but with a few runes it feeds wells, kitchens, laundromats and bath houses, the latter of which is the alternative somewhere for Étoile could go for peace of mind.

I picture a private, fully stone room, candles unlit, three days below ground (Advanced Darkness), with a recessed pool of water that grows deeper the further you walk into it. Grotesques and murals carved into the walls. Whether the water is warm (hot) or cold, I think Étoile and their dark vision would enjoy the tranquility.

#oc tag: étoile #long post #baldur's gate 3 spoilers