#the salary is decent enough for a first ever job

[halfmoonaria]

not allowed

pairing: prof!sam carpenter x student!female reader

summary: sam does something thats certainly not allowed.

words: 2k

warnings: age gap, sexual content, language.

Sam's love life was completely dull and uneventful, it was something she's very self aware of.

It was almost tragic how lonely she was.

Although she knew she should have had an active love life; being a professor brought opportunities for intellectual conversations, networking events, and collaborative projects, which should've brought at least some kind of connections to her.

But it didn't.

All of Sam's colleagues were polite and all, but they were all so much older than her, she couldn't find herself relating to relate to any of them.

And besides, dating wasn't her thing. Since the last time she had thought she found the right person, she almost ended up dead along with her sister.

Sam could never trust anyone enough to date them. All the blame for the lack of trust rested on her previous psycho ex.

Richie had left a scar on her body, and it wasn't in the form of a stab wound.

Despite the loneliness and the lack of company, Sam loved her job.

She loved the subject she was teaching, and her colleagues were actually pretty decent.

The biggest bonus was that she got a good paycheck. She didn't have to work two jobs that could barely pay the rent for her and Tara's apartment.

And to Sam's own surprise and satisfaction, the students didn't seem to whisper about her or spread the rumors that had been on the internet ever since the murders in Woodsboro.

Most of Sam's classes were filled with jocks, party-goers or just genuinely stupid people. After all, the school she taught at had a reputation for attracting a more socially-oriented crowd rather than focusing on academic excellence.

Sam wasn't really the kind of teacher that had a big connection with her classes, sure she would crack awkward jokes in class occasionally and greet them in the hall, but no more than that.

It never felt important to her, she was there to teach, to work and to get her salary.

But then there was you.

Sam never payed attention to the people that entered the classroom, or on what place they chose to sit in for the rest of the lesson. But with you, she did.

You had caught her attention the second her eyes got in contact with your figure. It had been when she was about to introduce herself in front of the class, her first day.

The way you had looked at her when she spoke didn't make you seem like the cocky or popular type, however the outfits you chose to wear to school told her otherwise.

Skirts that were either the size of a belt or skirts that would totally show your entire ass if you bent over the slightest. And if it wasn't minimal skirts it was low waisted jeans that showed the top of your underwear.

Tiny and tight crop tops that would show the exact outline and shape of your breasts.

Sam was shocked when she found out the college didn't have a dress code, since it allowed students like you to dress like models straight out from a 90s porno.

Based on the choice of clothing you thought was school appropriate, made Sam think that you were one of those popular mean girls that she used to absolute gush over in high school.

But you didn't seem to be like that. Sure, you were popular, but that was because of your prettiness, not because you were rude or that people were scared of you. Because in fact, nobody was scared of you.

You were loyal. You were friends with technically everyone, including the teachers.

From what Sam had seen in the halls and in the classroom, you always had a smile on your face, greeting everyone you saw with a wave and the smile that looked as if the person you were talking to had hung the stars.

Sam thought it was impressive how much beauty can do for a person. The way everybody loved you because you were pretty, everybody.

Although Sam didn't think much about your scandalous outfits or the way you admired Sam every time she made eye contact with you during briefings.

Not until you had began to walk towards her desk after class had been finished.

The way you would call her 'Mrs Carpenter'. Just like you should've, just like everyone else did, yet it sounded so different.

At first it had only been a simple question about an assignment, but then you started to stop by after every single lesson.

Sam tried to act like normal, responsible. But it was almost impossible when you would slightly lean forward, basically forcing Sam's gaze to your chest. Your hushed and low voice did it for her as well. You talked as if it was secret, as if nobody else was allowed to hear.

She was starting to think that it was all on purpose, that it was all because you wanted a better grade that you couldn't accomplish by yourself.

Sam knew for a certain that she wouldn't give in, she wouldn't give in because you tried to 'flirt' with her, it might've worked with your other professors but it definitely wouldn't work with her.

Sam was stubborn and incredibly obstinate, but she was also very insecure, alongside having no self respect. Most times when she would tell herself to avoid doing something, her lack of confidence would make her do it regardless.

Weeks passed and you didn't stop. You asked Sam for help after every single class.

You spoke to her in a flirty and hushed voice,  Sam had tried to talk back normally, but she would be lying if she couldn't hear her own voice sounding flirty as well.

Sam didn't know what she was doing, you were her student. But you made it so incredibly difficult for her to act like it.

You were gorgeous, model material. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that you were aware of it, you knew how pretty you were, you knew exactly how to act around people to get your way.

She couldn't understand what was happening, but when you were with her, Sam felt this subtle flutter whenever you approached or just looked at her.

Sam had never felt that feeling before, not even when she was with Richie.

So instead of telling herself you did that with all your teachers, she began thinking that maybe, just maybe you did it because you actually liked her. Even though it wasn't allowed.

Sam was starved. Not from food starvation or hunger, but from love and touch. And she knew it was wrong to think that way when it was about you, it was so wrong.

But it was just thoughts right? Nobody could hear them.

That's what she had thought, but it was like you could read her mind.

Your attempts of trying to make Sam give in got more and more intense. You would touch her hands, standing close up to her and compliment her.

Eventually, Sam's mouth had moved faster than her mind could process. She had accepted your request for her to tutor you.

Sam knew that you didn't actually want tutoring, you were passing the subjects enough to graduate, unlike everybody else in your class. She knew that this was your attempt to flirt even more.

She knew she should've cancelled. The thought still haunted her, what would've happened if she did? Everything would've been so different.

However, Sam didn't cancel. And it turned out exactly like she thought it would.

You had insisted to sit beside her, and not in front of her. You would make sure your arms touched, that you spoke closely to her ear, you would bite your lips and toe flirt with her.

You were bold, so bold that it made you look hotter than Sam thought was possible.

Sam was desperate for something to change so she wouldn't feel the desire to be touched. Her body was craving a touch that wasn't from herself, not from anybody but you.

She felt disgusted by her own thoughts, every single thought her mind managed to convey was about you.

Next thing she knew, your lips had landed on hers. And Sam just couldn't pull away, her mind wasn't working properly. She had kissed you back.

But when her mind started to fall back in place, she pulled away, panic rushing through her as she had scanned the place, making sure nobody had seen it.

She had kissed her student, in a library. A public library.

Her mind had done this before. When she had been on top of Richie, knife going in and out of his chest, blood being the only thing that could be seen. It was like a blackout, Sam didn't know what she was doing, but at the same time, she knew exactly. But it had felt too good to stop. Just like it had been with you.

When you got the confirmation of Sam wanting the same thing, you had pulled her into the bathroom stall, where Sam couldn't help but kiss you just as hungrily as she had done in her disgusting thoughts.

Nothing mattered when your hands were roaming her body. The fact that you were her student and she was your teacher didn't seem to matter at all in that moment.

Sam couldn't understand what her mind was doing to her. This was like another one of those blackouts, where she couldn't think about the consequences of the things she was doing.

Like now, when she found herself in her own bed tangled up in the sheets, with you next to her.

Bare.

Her mind was all over the place. Thoughts racing through her mind like the traffic in New York, making her head feel like it was about to explode.

She couldn't show you the panic she was feeling about the whole situation. Because that would make you think she regretted it. And she didn't, god no she didn't.

You were so gentle yet bold at the same time. You made sure to ask for permission before doing everything, but you did everything so well.

Your touch was everything Sam's body had craved for months, it was nothing like she had done before. Your touch basically boiled on her skin.

You worshipped Sam in ways she didn't even know existed. The ways you touched her felt so good that she couldn't begin to understand what you were doing.

It had all felt so good that Sam could barely remember it. She remembered moaning, she remembered the satisfaction in it all; the warmth, the passion and the wetness.

Looking down at your figure laying against her, legs tangled up in each other, to see that your eyes were already on her. Your beautiful eyes filled with curiosity and admiration was inspecting her face, fingers smoothly running through her hair.

"What're you thinking about?" Your voice came out as a whisper, voice cracking from the lack of talking; words had not been the priority just minutes before.

When Sam made eye contact with you, all the worries faded away. She could be fired because of this, because of you, yet you were the person who could make the worries bluntly disappear.

Sam's lips curled into a gentle smile when she looked at you, bringing up her finger to subtly caress your cheek. "That this won't help you get a better grade.." She lied, a faint laugh escaping from her lips.

You smirked up at her before planting a kiss on her lips. "Please Mrs Carpenter. I promise I'll do better next time." Sarcasm laced your voice, and if Sam hadn't heard that, she would be panicking.

The fact that you had called her 'Mrs Carpenter' made her stomach twirl, sparkles flying around in it. Just like it had done when you moaned it a few minutes ago.

Although the twirls quickly turned into guilt. She shouldn't be doing this, she shouldn't be in bed with you, let alone be in her own apartment with you.

It truly didn't matter how many excuses she tried to make for herself, it wasn't right, and she should've been disgusted with herself.

She was a professor at a college who had fucked her student. And for obvious reasons, that just wasn't allowed.

#melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader

[lewisvinga]

million dollar man | lance stroll x fem! reader

summary; in the world of her million dollar man, y/n can’t help but feel like a lost puppy and stick out like a sore thumb leading to mess of jumbled feelings.

warnings; insecurities esp around money, reader is mentioned to be a healthcare worker/nurse

word count; 1.2k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; i can’t tell yall the amount of times i’ve thought of this fic ever since i started the born to die series 😭😭😭😭 but i rlly let out my obsession w these luxuries out here 🫣🫣

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

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“Why don’t you wear your new necklace? The one that your fiancé got you.”

Y/n could hear the smile in Lance’s voice as she stood in the bathroom adding the finishing touches to her makeup. “Yeah, because a Serpent around my neck would match the floral look.” She snorted, referring to the Bulgari necklace he had gotten her the week prior.

“I mean, you haven’t worn it yet. Where else would you showcase it for the first time other than your own engagement party?”

“Because it doesn’t match.”

What she said was partially the truth. The serpent necklace didn’t match her 3 thousand-dollar Oscar De La Renta dress.

It didn’t match with the gold Rolex on her left wrist or the diamond-encrusted Cartier love bangle, Juste un Clou, and the Van Cleef bracelet on her right wrist. Nor did it match the giant diamond engagement ring adorning her ring finger.

It didn’t match her white Louboutin heels nor did it go with the 20-motif Van Cleef Alhambra necklace.

It didn’t match her and that was her issue.

Y/n never even dreamt of the lifestyle she had been living ever since dating Lance. It was something so unattainable. The expensive bags, jewelry, cars, and private jets, she never even dared to dream of.

She grew up middle class, her parents having enough to be able to put food on the table, and have decent clothes, but not enough to earn them all the luxuries she has now. Sure, her nursing job earned her a decent amount of money, but the necklace her boyfriend had gotten her cost more than her yearly salary and that said enough.

She remembered the look on the faces of Lance’s extended family when they found out she did not come from another rich family and was just a regular pediatric nurse. They immediately assumed she was just with him for money. They talked and talked.

The gossip would become worse whenever Y/n would show up with a new bag or bracelet. She hated it.

She remembered when Lance decided to throw her a huge birthday party. He paid for most of it even if she protested. Not to mention, he gifted her not one but two Hermes mini Kelly’s. She remembered the looks on his aunt's face as she held a rare picnic mini Kelly.

“One for the money, two for the show, right?” He joked, chuckling at her shocked face, and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “I love you, honey.”

“You’re unbelievable, Lance. I love you.”

The same picnic Kelly bag he gifted her was the one she decided to wear with her floral dress. A springtime engagement called for a floral theme engagement party, hence the dress.

Y/n stares at herself in the mirror after applying her Dior lipgloss. She looked like a million-dollar man. She looked so strange like she was unrecognizable. She had the dream life of so many but had no idea why she felt so upset or heartbroken.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize Lance had been calling her. “Honey, what’s the matter?” He asked, concern in his voice as he walked into the bathroom all dressed in an expensive suit.

“I hope you’re not getting cold feet before our engagement part.” He joked but his smile immediately fell at her silence. “Are you?”

“No! No!” Y/n quickly exclaimed, turning around and settling her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not getting cold feet, Lance. I want to marry you and I will marry you. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” He mumbled, grasping her hands. His dark eyes were filled with concern as his thick brows furrowed up. She still seemed hesitant to tell him what was on her mind. “Hey, I won’t judge you for what’s on your mind.”

Y/n sighed again as Lance gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “You know I didn’t grow up with this. All of these luxuries, expensive jewelry, even more expensive cars and bags. My nursing job can only cover so much. It can’t cover a quarter of what you give me.”

“And I don’t care!” He exclaimed, “You’re my fiancée. I want to spoil you. It’s my duty to spoil you. I don’t care what they think, I-”

“But I’ve seen the way your aunts stare at me.” She mumbled, looking down at her Louboutins. “I’ve heard their whispers. They just think I’m a gold digger who is only marrying you to have this lifestyle but I couldn’t give two shits about all of this! We could be struggling with money and I’d still want to be with you.”

She sighed as she let go of his hands. She turned around to look at herself through the mirror. “I see a stranger when I’m dressed up like this. I stick out whenever I’m with your family and they all know it. They never try to hide their whispers and they’re right. I don’t fit into this world, Lance. I look like a million dollar man but why does my heart still feel broken?”

“Y’know what I see?” Lance asked as he took a step closer to her, placing his hand on her waist. “I see the most gorgeous woman. Someone so unique and special that she’s like an exotic flower.” He chuckled, running his finger over the strap of her floral dress.

“I see someone who is so brilliant she used her brain to study to help children in need. I see someone with a heart so big, that she works extra shifts just to spend time with her patients no matter how tiring the week has been.” He continued, gently fixing a strand of her hair which made her let out a soft chuckle. “I see my fiancée, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with despite not growing up in ‘my world’.”

Lance leaned over and kissed Y/n’s cheek. “I see the woman who has always been by my side. I see the woman who will be the mother of my children. I see the woman who has stolen my heart from the day I bumped into her in that cafe.”

He spun her around so she was facing him. She rested her hands on his shoulder once again for stability as his hands held onto her waist. “I don’t see someone strange. I see you.”

She takes a deep breath, her pink lips curled into a smile as her eyes fill with tears. “You always know how to take a girl's breath away, don’t you?”

“Just yours.”

Y/n leaned up and pulled him close to kiss him, not caring if they were going to be made to their own engagement party. “I love you so much, Lance.”

“I love you so much, Y/n. More than anything else in this world.”

She leaned back down with a wide smile on her lips. She takes a deep breath and quickly glances in the mirror to ensure her makeup is still intact.

“Well, we can’t be late to our own engagement party.” Y/n chuckled, grabbing her bag and turning back to Lance. “Shall we go, my million dollar man?”

He kisses the top of her head as a smile matching hers appears on his lips. “Let’s go, my honey.”

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #lance stroll scenarios #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine

[vinxhwrites]

note: this is the result of a crazy writing frenzy I was in last night, I went a bit feral over this idea and I don't know where this story is going. Also I spiraled after I read this. anywayyy hope you enjoy this drabble.

pairing: f!reader x price (x ghost - maybe eventually?)

summary: After going to work in the military you develop a weird relationship dynamic with your captain, and soon you find out you're not the only one.

word count: 2.7k

cw: 18+, daddy kink (!), probably inaccurate job descriptions/situations, pet names, a little bit of angst, a little bit of h/c; reader is kind of a crybaby; not proofread;

NEXT

You couldn't explain the story of how you got yourself in this situation if you tried. You were barely able to understand it yourself. Yet, here you were, sobbing in your captain's arms at his office, way past your working hours, calling him daddy and praying that he'd kiss you.

You had a hard day, as it was pretty common nowadays.

You certainly weren't fit for this work environment and you were painfully aware of it. It didn't matter how much you tried you couldn't get past this fact: you were an academic. You weren't used to the discipline, the hierarchy, and the life-engulfing aspects of the military.

When you had accepted the job 8 months prior, it really was the salary that convinced you, if you were being honest about it. You had been living on scholarships most of your adult life and it was getting kind of tiring. A part of you wanted to refuse out of a moral stance, but you didn't.

You were fresh out of a linguistics PhD program at the time, and you excelled as a student and researcher, but your skills were very specific and not that marketable. Your mom was probably right when she tried to dissuade you from dedicating your time to mostly dead and made-up languages, but you were too stubborn to listen at the time, although her greatest concerns were, as usual, well-founded. Needless to say, the opportunity came at the right time.

It seemed urgent and they tested you relentlessly. It was clear to you from the beginning that no one there was thrilled to resort to a civilian linguist. It was fun, though, and you passed the tests as if they were silly little puzzles you do to relax. And you were the only candidate to be able to decently decipher the completely made-up languages and codes that were used in the telegraphs they gave you.

They hired you on an 18-month contract for two different jobs: translating and decrypting intercepted messages for a task force, and also training their own linguists to do what you did. If you were good at it, you wouldn't be needed anymore.

The task force was nice enough, all four of them treated you well and didn't bother you much. At first, it was a bit disconcerting, but by now you've gotten used to how attractive they all were to the point where it almost didn't affect you anymore.

All of them called you birdie. You liked it, it made you feel included to have a little nickname. Soap was the one to come up with it on the second week you were working with them "Some birds know many languages." he had explained, clarifying: "Bird languages, ye know". The original explanation made you smile, but the addition made you blush "Plus, ye're cute like a little birdie"

The training part though wasn't going so well. You were almost 100% sure that all six of the students hated you. It seemed offensive to them to have to sit down and learn anything from you. In the beginning, you did your best to be pleasant, to do the best job you could, and maybe win them over. But at this point, you just wanted to be done with it and never look at any of those people ever again.

They were building a computer program to do your job apart from the classes. You felt offended at first at how they didn't even hide the fact that you would be used and then replaced by a more efficient machine, but you were now praying that they'd get it done as quickly as possible. The program was really good at pattern recognition, but it still wasn't good enough at semantics, and it lacked any nuance of interpretation.

The only thing that made you want to stay a little longer was this thing with Captain Price. It had started innocent enough, he took pity on you when he noticed you struggling with the new environment. He said some kind and assuring words here and there when he noticed how much the students tormented you, and he'd reprehend anyone who dared to disrespect you in front of him.

Eventually, Price casually invited you to work in his office if you wanted to, being away from other people seemed to ease your nerves a bit. He didn't mind, he assured you, it was nice to have some company. More than that, he genuinely found your job fascinating and always asked you to show him how you did it in his free time.

He sometimes brought you tea the afternoons you spent there, he'd accidentally brush his arm against yours, or touch your leg with his knee when you sat beside him. At first, he'd correct the movement, but it evolved to not correcting it, to then doing it intentionally.

They were simple touches, a little pat on your shoulder here, brushing your hair out of your face there, every single one made you shiver. One day he made a comment about how uncomfortable you looked on the chair and pulled your legs to rest on his lap while he worked. That was the first night you allowed yourself to fantasize about him to sleep.

John had a warm and comforting presence, and you were genuinely disappointed when he wasn't around, finding comfort in the fact that he gave you a copy of his office keys, so you could work there even when he wasn't present.

Ghost was there sometimes, seemingly preferring to work from Price's office as well. At first, he seemed to get disconcerted by your presence, probably a bit annoyed that he had to share the space with you, you thought.

He was never rude to you, just awfully quiet, even when it was just the two of you there. He nodded at you when you greeted him, and often sat on the big sofa on the corner or even on the floor. You offered him the desk many times, feeling a bit guilty for taking up so much space, but you noticed he only accepted when he seemed truly tired. Despite the unsettling silence, you thought he was a gentleman.

You first thought that John had somehow hypnotized you when you noticed the subtle ways in which your heart lost its pace whenever he commanded you to do something. He rarely asked without a smile, a polite inclination "dear, will you please file these reports for me?" "can you please grab me a cup of coffee?". He'd only deviate you from your tasks like this when he seemed to be in a bad mood, you noticed. It was never about anything urgent, and it was always when you were clearly already busy. In spite of it, you were never able to say no. He seemed to derive pleasure from bossing you around like that, but you knew he didn't have to remind you of the power he had over you, as it always hovered on your mind. Either way, soon enough you were painfully aware of the fact that you'd do absolutely anything he asked you to.

But you knew, for sure, that you were in trouble when you realized you got aroused anytime he'd compliment your work. Getting his praise started to be a more important goal to you than anything else. Earning a "good girl" was a rare occurrence, but it never failed to make your day.

One day he found you crying, and you couldn't quite explain what it was with words without feeling ridiculous. After what they called a "successful mission" it dawned on you that the information you were extracting out of those telegraphs really was being used to kill people. Those weren't your silly little puzzles.

"Criminals" Soap had corrected you as you tried to articulate your despair, much to your dismay. He wheezed as if your frame of thought was absolutely hilarious. "Shouldn't be here if you'll react like that, birdie" he had said and you wanted to scream.

"You'll get used to it" Gaz had assured you, sending a disapproving look towards Soap.

Later, the more you tried to express your frustration to John the more you cried, sobbing pathetically. It was the first time he hugged you, shielding you from the world around you for a minute.

"You don't understand..." you tried to explain, but you cut the sentence short at his stern look.

"I do understand," he said frowning, keeping his hand firm on your back. He took a deep breath and leaned down a bit to look you in the eyes "Listen, you do a good job, sweetie. You're doing good things, even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes" he assured you.

You nodded and tried to get the crying under control, suddenly aware that you probably looked terrible.

John cupped your face in his hands.

"Why don't you get the rest of the day off and get some rest, huh?" he suggested kindly "come to me if you need to talk."

After that, he got more and more comfortable being physically close to you. It quickly evolved, as you enjoyed being close to him a bit too much. Sometimes he'd squeeze your hand in his when you sat beside him behind his desk very casually and, sometimes, you'd rest your head on his shoulder while he worked. Saying you were in love felt like an understatement, but you'd never make it real by saying it out loud.

You once made a joke in passing about how your dad left you and your family, but he didn't laugh. He tilted his head and looked worried instead. I'm here if you want to talk he said, and it made you want to bury your head in the dirt.

Price called you many things, at first it was dear, sweetie, birdie, love, and finally, he settled with baby.

"what are you doing there, baby?" he just asked casually one day, and you almost gasped, feeling your heart attempt to leave your chest.

Although your relationship with him wasn't sexual in practice, it certainly was sexualized in essence. To you it was, at least. Oedipal if you were to be honest with yourself.

The first time he called himself your daddy it simultaneously broke and healed something in your brain. He chuckled at your reaction, how you looked at him wide-eyed and full of hope, hiding your face on his chest next.

"thank you, sir" you whispered then, pathetically.

You feared at times that your affection to him was one-sided, that he saw comforting you like this as a part of his job, a strange but effective one as well. You wondered if it made you weak, you didn't even try to be brave and deal with things alone anymore, you were aware of how childish it was to knock on his door looking for daddy's embrace at the slightest inconvenience. But you couldn't help it, it was too comforting to give up.

And that's the exact position you were in now. You had a bad day so you came running to him. He was awfully kind to you, as usual, and you prayed that it was a sign of enjoyment, that he actually liked comforting you like this.

You didn't notice when Simon came in. He froze by the door, and the captain just signaled for him to close it. John still had his arm wrapped around you, a hand stroking your hair.

"Shhh, it's ok now" he cooed at you "daddy's here."

Simon watched as you melted in his arms at the words, your breathing easing instantly. Again, you felt as if hypnotized. Your body responded to his words before your mind could catch up with them.

You wanted him even closer, you wanted to curl up on his lap, and have him rock you like a baby. Most of all, you wanted him to kiss you. You craved the touch of his lips on yours and the thought clouded your mind. Just that week you had already masturbated to the thought of him twice. Although you always reprehended yourself afterward, it didn't work to make these thoughts go away.

You rehearsed in your mind the idea of looking up and kissing him but didn't build enough courage to do it. You thought you'd die if he ever rejected you.

"That's it, you're ok," John said when he noticed the pace of your breathing ease, with his cheek pressed to the top of your head "I've got you, baby" he pressed kisses to your hairline. You sniffed, using your sleeve to clean the tears from your cheek.

"Now, be a good girl and go get some sleep," he said and you nodded against his chest, inhaling the warm smell of his shirt and suffering with the upcoming separation already "Ghost will take you to bed".

You raised your head and blinked at him, and that's when you finally noticed the tall figure close to the door, unmoved. You wiped your tears, distressed. For how long had he been there?

"Will you guide her to her room, lieutenant?" John asked him calmly, as if you didn't find yourself in the most embarrassing of situations.

"Yes, sir" Simon responded in the same tone.

The walk back to your room was painfully silent. The corridor around you was dark and empty. Your entire body was tense, and you walked fast trying to keep up with Simon's pace, hoping that he'd just say something and put you out of your angst, but he didn't.

When you finally reached your door, he opened it and waited for you to go inside.

"I'm sorry that you saw that" you blurted out, cheeks flushed pink "I-I don't know what to say. It's really not like that...-"

"It's OK" he interrupted when he noted the despair in your voice. He tilted his head a bit, evaluating your expression "I get it." there was something mischievous in his eyes, and you wondered if he was smiling at you behind the mask.

"Do you?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

He nodded, and you relaxed a bit "I'm sorry you had a shitty day, birdie"

"It's okay"

"Tell me if you need anything." he said before signaling for you to enter your bedroom again, you thanked him quietly and closed the door.

Simon went back to Price's office in hurried steps, letting out a sigh when he entered. He was exhausted.

His captain was seated on the sofa, reports spread on the coffee table in front of him and a cigar put out on the ashtray beside him.

"Come here" John said, his eyes didn't move from the papers in his hands.

Simon took off his boots and mask before curling up on the sofa, resting his head on the captain's legs, and finally taking a deep breath as John started to brush his fingers through his hair.

"Don't know what to do with her" John murmured, more to himself than to start a conversation.

Simon hummed in response, his eyes felt heavy, and he could no longer keep them open.

"She's such a sensitive little thing..." John continued, seemingly lost in thought.

"She's cute" the lieutenant murmured, the drowsiness that flooded his brain making it almost impossible to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah" John chuckled lightly. "Well, don't worry about it." he assured, taking his attention back to petting Simon's hair "How are you?"

"Fine" he purred, getting comfortable on the sofa, even though it was a bit too small for him.

John hummed as he stroked Simon's cheek lightly "my pretty boy"

He watched Simon as he let his eyes rest completely and his body relax, being taken by slumber in a matter of seconds.

John continued to read reports well into the night, only waking Simon up, gently, when he finally decided to get some sleep himself. He accompanied Simon to his bedroom before moving to his own, patting him on the shoulder before sending him to bed. It was easier for Simon to fall asleep on his own then, as it usually was, after he had already been nursed to sleep beforehand.

#don't look at me!! #my dad died before my brain fully developed guys :/ #i have serious daddy issues #cod x reader #captain price #john price x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #captain john price

[faceeeeee]

I wonder if you made backstories for the tadc employees or smh-

(I wanna know Gangle's :3)

I have some concepts and ideas in my mind but it's all very vague and I haven't written anything down so forgive me for any incoherent sentences or messy writting:

Pam:

Ever since she left for college she cut all contact with her family and "friends" (she calls them acquaintances/contacts) and put all of her attention in her studies. She graduated at the top of her class in computer sciences and got hired at C&A almost immediately. The moment she left college she noticed a sudden shift in her routine. She dedicated her entire life into her studies and grades and completely disregarded any social interactions, hobbies.... She excepted that when she got a job, all of her problems would've been solved but she found out that she was wrong. Her first few months at the company were okay to say the least but as time went by she felt more and more empty and depressed. Her lack of social skills and pride didn't help either and rejected all of her coworker's attempts to befriend her. So she spent her time either overworking herself, drinking or sleeping. She worked in that company for 5 whole years: Her sleep schedule was a mess, her salary wasn't exactly ideal and she started taking anti-depresants and a hunch of other stuff and Reggie's disappearance (or "temporary departure") took a toll on her. Not only because her boss decided to make her the head of her department but also because he was the only one who was still willing to talk to her. So now she was left with a bunch of deadlines and work and the only one who even looked at her and said hello every morning was now gone. Her life was shit, basically, so why not try again in a new life, a new world and with new memories?

Reggie:

Good ol' Reggie has been working in the company for 18 years now and he couldn't be happier. He had a decent childhood, a loving wife and a decent job that keeps the both of them stable! And a father-daughter relationship with Genevieve, so he couldn't be more happy with life! The only thing he wishes is that he could have more time to spend with his family and his hobbies (he keeps and collects cool bugs, obviously :) ) and that the company wasn't so strict with deadlines and such. He is the head of the programming department so he has a lot of work on his plate...but it's all for a good cause: the digital circus! In his eyes, it's a magical place that helps people to to distract themselves for a while and to have a little fun before they return to their normal lives! So you can imagine his excitement once his boss told him that they were going to let the staff be actual play testers! He was ECSTATIC! he spent YEARS fixing and refining the digital plains so of course he decided to be one of the first playtesters. Queenie was a little hesitant at first but he told her not to worry! He knew that the code was a little finicky at times but that's okay! He has Pam and the rest of the staff to take care of it if anything goes wrong, after all he wholeheartedly trusts them :) nothing could possibly go wrong right?

Jack:

Dear Jack....the C.E.O's son. He has been wandering around the company for a few years now, working in some low paying positions to earn a little pocket money from his parent. He's known as the office's little miscreant as he just goofs around all day and nobody can touch him or say anything cause if they do they're gonna get fired! Ain't that fun? But his luck runs out when even the C.E.O has had enough of his bullshit and offers him to take a little time off from his studies and work to go and be a beta testers for his folks vr experience. Ain't that idea fun? Just log in, fuck around and then come back for dinner, right?

Agatha:

Agatha, a hard working gal with lots of siblings to take care off. Her folks aren't around to help her so she takes care of em all throughout college until she gets the position in the robotics department! She goes up the ranks and even becomes the head of her department :). She mainly works with the headset design and with the new technology that the company has introduced. She has never seen anything like it: with it you can feel and hear your surroundings whilst hooked to the digital plains. So when she heard that they were offering people to beta test the digital world she couldn't help but to want to experience all of those things herself! She does wonder why they have to have her sign a contract but she trusts the company. She has been with them for some time now and the staff and boss have been nice to her so far, so why wouldn't she trust them?

Genevieve:

Dear Genevieve has had a sort of rocky life. Her mother has been very overprotective over her and that has left her with no real life experiences. She was homeschooled almost her entire life so when she entered college she had a hard time adjusting to her new routines. She's very explosive emotionally and very finicky over her personal space so she couldn't (or didn't want to) make acquaintances and so, she made it to the company with no connections apart from her obsessive mother, just like Pam. She worked a year and a half in the company, and that was enough time to meet and befriend Reggie. At first she was very wary of him and very hostile to him. But good ol' Reggie just keeps saying hi to her every morning, just like he does with every employee he sees. One day, when they were both on break, Reggie tried to break the ice and tried to start some small talk with her. She got scared and basically yelled all sorts of barbaric things to him and he just gave her a warm smile. Nothing can hurt this man, god. Genevieve was surprised that he hadn't yelled back at her or left and stared at him for a while. Then guilt overcame her and she started sobbing. Reggie comforted her as best as he could and since then they formed a bond. So when she learned that he had left to be a beta tester she was again left alone in the office. Desperate for his comfort and precense she decided to follow him to the digital circus...

Zephyr:

They had a relatively normal life (apart from an accident that left them without a bloody leg but it's alright), graduated from art school and started working at C&A. They overestimated the pressure and stress that came with working at the company to the point that they were exhausted. They would've left if it wasn't for the fact that getting a job with their degree was extremely difficult and the chances for getting hired were very slim. So they kept on working. They worked day and night. A million coffee cups had started to pile up on their desk and they had severe bags under their eyes. They were tired, so very fucking tired. Why wouldn't they try to escape reality for a bit? Goof around in the digital plains, maybe use it as some sort of rage room. Maybe they could do all of the things that they had thought of without any consequences. Yeah, just for a little bit....it couldn't hurt, right?

#tadc employee idea #faceee rambles #I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO RESPONDDDDDD As you can see it's a LOT #Also i couldn't edit the timeline so that zooble and gangle meet in the au I'M SO SORRYYYYYYYY #Yuri can only exist in the digital plains #can't have shit in the real world #anyway fuck time they will meet somehow- #these concepts kind of suck.....But i can't come up with anything else IM SORRY #the amazing digital circus #tadc

[genocidehim]

Ojos así (Tuco Salamanca x dealer!Reader)

Just two idiots thinking they can be drug dealers. Domingo isn't exactly a good role model, but money is convincing enough. If it weren't for your boss, everything would be fine.

notes: one-shot, use of pronouns she/her. words: 1118

In the last five years, your life has taken so many turns that what you're experiencing doesn't even feel real. Recently, you started university, but the money you have is not enough to maintain a decent standard of living, especially when your parents are living in a very difficult economic situation.

You had started working at Tampico Furniture a year ago and were lucky enough to become close friends with Domingo Molina and his father, the owner of the furniture store. Although the salary was decent, it did not fully cover the expenses of your life. You mentioned this to Domingo one afternoon while they were having lunch together, and he mentioned that his friend knew someone who knew another person who was offering a job that paid a lot of money, something you could verify when Domingo once showed you a large stack of bills while you were eating reheated nuggets with cold rice. You could hardly believe it at that moment. However, it was not a job that could be done easily, much less something that was moral. You didn't know how a young man like Domingo could be involved in a drug distribution network. Was it necessary to question that? It was the least expected thing you would learn about him, but even if it was problematic, your morals were capable of turning a blind eye and even contributing to it if it meant being able to have a higher extra income to cover your needs. This is how you ended up caught up in this shit as a small drug dealer, a role you could play with discretion because your "good girl" profile didn't raise suspicions. The police wouldn't be able to keep an eye on you when you looked like a little puppy about to run away with its tail between its legs all the time, or at least that's what you tried to convey and you were doing a good job of it. Domingo and you were good at your job, and you even received a compliment from your boss Nacho once, a tough-looking guy with broad shoulders who didn't seem opposed to the idea of having a woman selling his merchandise.

Although Domingo usually took care of delivering the money to your boss, that day he had asked you to accompany him. You didn't understand why until you met him at that Mexican restaurant.

Domingo and you were sitting at one end of the cold plastic table, while on the other side were Nacho and a slightly stockier man with a killer gaze who didn't take his eyes off them as soon as they entered the place.

It was a ridiculous situation in the eyes of this man, watching two kids come in through the tinkling door while wearing the same uniform with a horrible green color and the most pathetic looks of fear he had ever seen. Tuco, that was the name Nacho revealed to you when they introduced themselves before sitting down. The man remained silent throughout the whole ordeal while Domingo trembled as he took the money with his shaking hands and placed it on the table for the two of them to count. You could see how Tuco was the first to count the money, observing how his large hands carefully sorted through the bills while his dark gaze lingered on the money, Domingo, and you. He took longer pauses to look directly into your eyes without a clear intention.

In the face of his hard gaze, Tuco only saw two trembling children seeking comfort in Nacho, who seemed totally indifferent and only concerned himself with rolling up the money to put it away. He also noticed how Tuco seemed somewhat more curious than usual, with a less accusatory and more curious look.

Genuinely, he was somewhat surprised. When Nacho told him that there was a girl working for them, he laughed with contempt and imagined that she would be another junkie in need of money who would sell anything to get some fix. But seeing you there, timid and trembling, made something twist inside of him. At the end of the day, he was just a man and he could admit that he found you somewhat attractive. The first thing he noticed was your fresh perfume scent. Had you dressed up to see them? It was a tender gesture, even with that horrible uniform, he could tell that you were attractive to the eye. And your eyes.

That was the first thing he tried to decipher when you sat right in front of him. Your small eyes looked at him with terror and he found it fascinating. He normally didn't scare girls, or at least not "his girls" who looked at him with desire and a certain playfulness.

And then there was you, with your nervous gaze that shifted between Nacho, Domingo, and him.

Tuco began to feel uncomfortable when an idea formed in his head, and that was that he wanted you to look at him with more attention, to leave the man beside you and only have eyes for him. Only for him.

"Tuco" Nacho's demanding voice snapped him out of his mental trance.

Although he continued to maintain his gaze on you, you could tell how his shoulders relaxed and his back leaned back. Hoping that this intense gaze exchange would end before you fell apart from nerves.

The whole situation felt dangerous from your point of view, well, from everyone's point of view except Tuco's.

For some reason, you were filled with true terror that paralyzed you and made you swallow hard until Nacho decided to end your torture.

"Okay... Go."

It was the first time you heard Tuco's voice and you almost trembled. It was ridiculous how much power he had over you without even trying. When you received approval, you and Domingo sighed in relief and said polite goodbyes, almost as if you were twin siblings acting in sync. Very ridiculous.

"See you next week, Tuco" Domingo said in a more confident tone accompanied by a nervous smile, which you decided to imitate.

"Nacho" you said your superior's name as a farewell and last words before following Domingo out with a forced nervous smile, which Tuco would notice instantly.

He allowed himself to be bold and watched you walk away, confirming his theory that the horrible uniform looked better on you. He even found it adorable how your voice trembled when you said the other guy's name, something he would regret because he wished to hear his name coming out of your lips, and now this became personal.

Domingo was just happy not to be the intimidated one this week.

This will probably become a series of Tuco x dealer!Reader one-shots because I have fallen in love with this dynamic aaaaaaa

#better call saul x reader #breaking bad x reader #bcs x reader #tuco salamanca #tuco salamanca x reader #tuco salamanca fanfic #krazy 8 #nacho varga #dealer!Reader

[bigbelsammy]

Let me be open with you for a second

As you all know, my name is Samantha. That name was not given to me by my parents, but rather it is the name I chose for myself.

At the age of 11 I experience my first crush on a male, at the time I thought I was gay but then at the age of 13 I realized I was still able to have crushes in girls. So I realized I was bisexual

The guy I had a crush on was 4 years older than me. And I was extremely fond of him, so much so that I adopted his look, and made it my own. That’s why I love wearing plaid shirts.

I used to disguised this attraction by saying that he was like an older brother to me. That was my excuse but deep down, I had a crush on him just like any 11 year old would have a crush on their babysitter let’s say

But then at 15, my world shattered.

For more context; I was born to immigrants. My parents immigrated to Canada when I was very little, I don’t remember much of our home country. I grew up without grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts.

Because I never had these connections, and because I changed schools so frequently due to dad’s work, I was never able to make friends.

I was a very lonely kid.

My parents and siblings were my whole world, and I came to realize that without them, I would have no purpose

So back to 15. My parents divorced. My Dad called the cops on my mom for false accusations of domestic abused. My mom tried laying charges back for mental domestic abuse as well. I remember talking to one of the cops, asking if I was okay. I don’t remember my response….

My dad left us after that night. He went onto live outside and we rarely ever saw him.

That same year, me 15, my sister 11, and my brother 7 were faced with a choice that should never ever be imposed on any child; mom or dad

If we chose dad, mom threatened to go back to our home country and we would never see her again. But if we chose mom, we still had the possibility to see dad. The choice was clear

And although we chose mom, she made it next to impossible for us to form any sort of bond with dad

I hated her for this, I hated her immensely. She fell into a severe depression, and was taking meds at the times for which she became addicted to.

Every night, for the next year, I had to sleep close to the kitchen. She would walk there in the middle of the night and grab a knife. I caught her once about to commit suicide.

It was the darkest time of my life.

I fell into my own depression. But my life, my well being was put on hold.

I failed most classes in high school but I didn’t care. I had to find a job because mom wouldn’t.

I found something at a daycare, and gained a decent salary to help buy groceries, because of this, I was unable to build up enough credit to attend university. So I gave up on it.

My relationship with mom deteriorated further, and so did mine with my siblings.

Subconsciously I took on the role of a parent figure for them but they did not see it that way. I was trying to protect them from mom, but they didn’t think I was. And so my relationship with my siblings, specially with my brother, broke

My world was shattered. The only people I knew were fighting and moving apart from each other. I fell into a depression that I never bothered to get checked

I attempted suicide myself many times. But everytime I would do it, I would say to myself “they need me. I can’t go yet”

That kept me going

I joined the army to be able to provide even more, my salary was good. I was able to provide with food and rent. I stayed in for 5 years. And I left due to them not paying me on time in several occasions

During this time I had cut dad completely out of my life. Mom kept showing me court documents trying to brainwash me into thinking my dad was and I quote “the worst human being to ever exist and if I don’t see it, I must be as bad as him”

During the summer of 2021 I decided to stop the army work. I enrolled in a trade school for something I had a passion on, but was not my dream job; a mechanic. And in the month of January 2022, I started classes

At this time I had already made this blog without really thinking much of it. But I also had more time to explore my mind.

I realized there was so much more than what I thought, my sexuality for one.

I started wondering why kids in my school always treated me like a girl, saying I’m “too girly to be a boy”. Why I loved wearing long hair and it made me feel better about myself. Why wearing a towel as a skirt made me feel nice

I talked to a couple of people and then realized, I might be trans.

May 25, 2022. I start a discord server, for which people rapidly started joining.

I was this enigmatic server owner people knew next to nothing about. Some started thinking that I was a woman behind the screen, for the way I talked and treated others in and I quote “a motherly way”

This made me feel better, and made me realized finally; I was a trans woman.

With that in mind, I knew if I told my family, they would not accept it. So I went months practicing makeup, dressing the way I wanted to dress, all in secret.

Moving to December 2022. My sister showed interest in what’s inside my head. I came out to her. I told her everything and she said “I did not know you had all this built up. Why didn’t you say anything?” Because nobody ever asked.

The thoughts of suicide started creeping up again. My friends online will remember this, and thank you again for saving me.

January 2023, I tell mom. And I tell dad. My dad at this point lives in a different province. I never see him anymore

Mom was not accepting of me, but she assured me that she would still love me, but would rather see me in boy clothes.

With all this, my family started distancing themselves because they could not believe that I was trans. Or rather they just didn’t wanna accept it.

I felt lonely

I felt scared

I felt anxious

I wanted to die

I had no more reason to keep living. My family didn’t want me around.

Last night… I could not see the light anymore. I don’t have a family to keep working for, they were my world and now they don’t want me.

I felt lonelier than I’ve ever felt before in my life. Ever.

I cried, and I screamed. My sister said to “submit to God” and brushed me aside

I walked up to my apartment. I grabbed a knife.. I looked at it for 30 minutes, trying to find a reason to stay. I couldn’t find one.

I placed the knife to my heart, but couldn’t do it. I layed on the floor, crying. And that’s when my brother came in, he was looking for something. And he found me. Asked me if I was okay, I said no…

I grabbed the knife once again, and he saw what I was doing, he took it away from me, and sat with me.

He saved my life last night.

When you lose a friend irl, you have at least the luxury of knowing, but someone online… they just wouldn’t show up anymore and you wouldn’t be able to know if they’re still around anymore or not.

Im sorry to all of you for almost doing that.

My life has been one with so much loneliness, I would never ever wish this on anyone. Ever. That is why I focus on helping others socialize, that is why that whenever someone comes to me for advice or because they need someone, I drop whatever the hell im doing, even if I’m crying my eyes out and go to talk to them.

I do so much, and rarely I ever get anything in return. But that is fine by me, because I’ve been able to build a community of people who now not only they follow this example, they send messages to me re-affirming what I believed; that I’ve saved them.

So thank you all for reading up to the end of this post. It was long and I won’t lie. But I had to make it.

You guys have helped me find myself, and have saved me before.

I promise to work on myself everyday so to stay with you all for as long as possible

Sam

[poorshadowspaintedqueens]

what was your college experience like in terms of academics? becoming a doctor?

Hmmm, that’s a rather broad question. If we’re talking about undergrad, those were four amazing years, particularly from an academic standpoint. I was very fortunate in that my parents were paying for my education and I was attending an enormous land-grant university at in-state rates, which meant I was able to take full advantage of opportunities not available to a lot of students. Mostly in terms of taking extra classes every term and participating in three different study abroad programs. I started off double-majoring in English and History, and ended up with a triple-major in English, French, and Medieval & Renaissance Studies (which, until I started undergrad, I had no idea was even a field of study).

I knew I wanted to go into academia so I did what people were supposed to do in those circumstances, namely apply to graduate school. I applied to 9 programs the first time round and only got into one, so that choice was comparatively easy. It was a one-year M.Phil. in European Literature and Culture at the University of Cambridge, and while I was there, I determined that I wanted to stay on and do my PhD on the French Romantics and their relationships with and reworkings of English Renaissance drama. Alas, the two examiners on my master’s thesis had a disagreement, and my thesis did not received the necessary marks, so I ended up having to go home, get a retail job, and reapply to graduate schools for the following academic year.

When I reapplied with an M.Phil. to my name, I got into three graduate programs. I made the deeply questionable financial decision to take an unfunded place in Oxford because it had been my dream since I was a kid to study there. But also this was in 2006 and things were very different. I was told by plenty of people, including my academic advisors, that it was worth the risk to have a PhD from Oxford behind my name.

From a financial standpoint, it was probably the worst decision of my life. However, the three years I spent in Oxford were probably amongst the most intellectually fulfilling I’ve ever had. It’s probably all for the best that I was still at a point in my life where I was capable of ignoring racist microaggressions, and that I was in a stable and committed long-term relationship notwithstanding the three thousand miles of ocean between us, because aside from the intellectual fulfillment, those were rough years. I took out a mountain of student loans and I lived like a hermit, working up to three jobs at a time to afford my monthly rent. My department put me through the wringer, and I nearly quit at one point because they’d almost convinced me I wasn’t good enough.

To some extent, I finished out of spite, to show everyone who’d doubted me that I could actually do it. I then turned my D.Phil. thesis into a book in less than two years because I was convinced it would get me a job.

Narrator: It did not get her a job.

I am now 14 years out from my PhD. I have worked for everything from Ivy-League-adjacent private colleges to a rather notorious for-profit university that happened to be located ten minutes away from where I was living at the time. And the entire structure of academia has changed--or, at the very least, stratified to a point where it is practically impossible to get any job at all, let alone one with a decent salary and benefits. So if this question was posed with the intention of finding out how to succeed, I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person.

This is not to say that I don’t recommend that people go to graduate school if they want to and have the resources to do it. Especially if you come from a minority or marginalized group, because academia desperately needs those important voices. But if you do, know that the system is rigged and that it takes an enormous amount of resources, effort, and struggle for comparatively little reward. Know that if it doesn’t work out, it is not your fault. And always--always--have a backup plan.

#vanitas vanitatem et omnia vanitas #academia #academics #graduate school

[digital-corruption]

Unrecognisable Epilogue

I suppose if you're happy with how things finished, you don't need to read this part. This is for those wanting that bit more. ;)

Three years past and though I was given a new identity in a no-name town in the dead middle of the United States, my past still haunted me. There were memories I just couldn’t get over and to make matters worse, I couldn’t tell anyone about them. My own therapist didn’t even know. Try getting therapy when you can’t even talk about the reason you’re there. All she was allowed to know was that I was drugged and forced to participate in a horrific torture and that was just one of the many reasons I had a new identity.

Of course that meant I wasn’t allowed to get in contact with anyone from my past life, not my friends here or overseas, and not even my own family. I don’t even know what they were told. Did they think I was dead? Does that mean there was a funeral? Did anyone even show? Or did they all think I was still on the run? Dan would’ve told the others that I was apprehended at least. I just hoped they didn’t think I was ghosting them by choice. Damn, I missed talking to them so much.

And it went both ways. No one told me how Jake was doing. If he was improving and getting better. If he was healing. It probably didn’t matter. Agent West said Jake was never going to see the outdoors again. They used the incident with Richy to ensure the court ordered he stay in that facility. Argh, he must be so pissed at me. I know what it looked like, and it looked like I dumped him at the facility and fled, giving him up at the first threat that came my way. Though I don’t know what he expected when he put all that money into my account. Of course it was going to look bad for me!

My new “friends” tried to help me adjust to my new home, but this new life didn’t fit me. It felt like I was wearing someone else’s clothes, squatting in their house, working their dead-end job, telling their made-up story, with nothing but fake friendships. I had absolutely nothing of my past or anything that made me me. The FBI, for all their promises of a normal life again, failed to deliver on every aspect. Everything was empty and meaningless.

One cold evening in the middle of December I sat in a casual restaurant with yet another of my friend’s well-meaning blind dates. This date was telling me his entire life story at length and I think I was meant to find it impressive. He rattled off his high school and university accomplishments. I know he told me what he did for a living, but I forgot as soon as he told me. It wasn’t his fault, really. He had the appearance of a clean, well-adjusted individual with a decent salary. As usual though, he bored me. I could almost predict his every sentence.

“Gosh, I’ve been talking about myself all night,” he laughed. “What about you? Tell me something about yourself.”

“Um, I don’t know,” I shrugged while pushing the remains of my dinner around my plate.

“Oh come on, Sharon! You look like a woman’s that lived a little!” he smiled.

Christ, that name makes my skin crawl.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he pushed.

I’m not sure you’re ready for that answer, buddy.

“Uh, I think I might have trashed a room once when I was drunk,” I said in a low voice.

Well, that’s sort of true.

“We all have our stories, don’t we?” he mused. “Ok then. Let me ask you this, do you like to travel?”

“I did,” I slipped.

“You did?” he asked confused. “What happened? Drank some bad water?”

“Uh, no. It’s just… it’s just I can’t anymore,” I admitted.

“What are you talking about? Sure you can!” he exclaimed.

I stuck my leg out from underneath the table and lifted my pant leg to reveal my unique ankle wear, “No, I can’t. Not unless you call going to the state border ‘travel’.”

His face turned white, “How badly did you trash that room?”

I shoved my leg back under the table and picked up my glass of wine. I chugged the remaining half in one go before responding, “Depends who you ask, really. I’d argue not enough.”

“But it’s a temporary thing, right?” he leant back in his seat.

I could see in his face he was already trying to distance himself from me. I felt there was no point holding back anymore.

You don’t have the balls, do you, to handle the whole package?

“Oh no, I’m permanently on the no-fly list, John,” I boasted.

“It’s Tom. And for what, trashing a room?” Tom looked at me bewildered.

“No, for fornicating with a known terrorist in that said room. Well, penthouse really,” I chuckled. “Apparently that makes me a terrorist too.”

Jo- Tom’s face went white.

Knew it! Another one bites the dust!

“You know what, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I just remembered I forgot to feed my cats. I’m sure they’ve torn up my apartment by now,” Tom lied. He stood up, pulled out a fifty and threw it onto the table. “Good night. It was, uh, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

I watched as he hastily left the restaurant, then glanced back at the fifty. I wished I could say I was surprised, but nearly every date ended up this way. As soon as they heard ‘terrorist’, they were gone. It was like nothing I said or did mattered. I was a marked woman. It was better to get rid of them quickly though rather than let any emotions build up. This way no one got hurt in the process. Especially me.

Soon the waitress came around with the bill and gave me a sympathetic look. I shoved cash into the folder, and she returned to take it to the register. While she was getting me my change, I put down an ample tip for the staff that night. I didn’t want them thinking they had anything to do with it.

Bundling myself up for the brisk night, I exited the restaurant onto the street. As a flurry of snow had just started it was almost a picturesque scene. The small town street was lined with the small shops and streetlamps decorated for the holidays.  Couples walked hand-in-hand everywhere, which made the sting of loneliness hurt even harder than usual. Glancing across the road I swear I saw someone watching me in the shadow between the streetlamps, but after a couple walked past me, the silhouette was gone. I shook my head and decided my mind was playing games with me again.

Pulling up my coat’s hood, I slowly made my way down the road towards the parking lot on the corner. People brushed past me as if I didn’t even exist, which pissed me off more than usual. When the next asshole refused to move to the side, I threw my shoulder into them. The couple gave me angry looks and asked what my problem was. While I considered where to begin, they walked off.

My phone buzzed to let me know my “friend” Carmen had messaged me.

Carmen: ?

Sharon: No. More. Dates.

Carmen: That bad? 😩

Carmen: Damn, I thought he was really promising.

Carmen: Well, forget him.

Carmen: I just met some of my boyfriend’s cousins and WOW 🤩

Carmen: And SINGLE! 😱

Suddenly my phone rang and “FBI” appeared in the middle of my screen. I was so surprised, I stared at it confused for a few rings before accepting the call.

“Agent Kilmer. Or are we Bale today?” I teased.

“MC, this is serious. Yesterday we received word from our associates in Germany that Jake broke out four days ago,” he said abruptly.

“And you’re only telling me now because?” I frowned.

“Look, I’m as pissed as you are. The hospital failed to report his disappearance. We only know because last night Interpol detected his presence in Heathrow,” Agent West sighed. “Then in Newark this morning.”

I had just turned the corner and could see my car at the back of the lot, but I stopped dead in my tracks. Every hair on my body stood on end. Sure, the air was cold, but my blood was colder. Even though the lot was empty, I knew I wasn’t alone.

“MC, please do not go out tonight. Lock up tight and do not answer the door for anyone. I am sending a squad to keep 24-hour surveillance on you,” Agent West explained.

Slowly I stepped towards my car. The light layer of snow melted beneath my feet. There weren’t any tracks leading to my car, but that’s not where he was. I knew someone was following my every footstep, stepping where I had stepped so he didn’t leave any evidence.

“Don’t worry about it, Agent West,” I tried to keep my voice calm. “And I want to thank you for all your service for this country.”

“MC! Get out of there!” he screamed over the phone.

I hung up and handed it to the person standing behind me. He took my phone and dropped it on the ground, then smashed it underneath his boot. I took out my keys and turned to face my stalker.

“You can drive,” I smiled as I held out the keys.

His face was nearly completely obscured by his hood and mask, but I could see the glimmer of his eyes. They contained no malice.

“First thing’s first,” Jake crouched down in front of me and gestured to my ankle. “No one shackles you-”

“But you?” I mused.

Jake didn’t respond; he looked up at me stoically. I lifted my pant leg so my ankle tracker was accessible for him. Jake took my foot and rested it onto his knee. Feeling off balance. I reached out and held his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. Instead Jake pulled out his handheld device to deactivate the RFID. Then he took out a couple of picks from his backpack and had the lock undone within seconds. I watched in amazement as the bane of my existence for the past few years dropped to the ground so effortlessly.

Before I could pull my foot away, Jake held my calf with one hand, keeping it in place. He pulled his mask down with his other hand, then ran it up my thigh before pressing his face into my leg to inhale my scent.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he closed his eyes briefly.

“You’re not mad?” I asked nervously.

“Mad? No! If anything, I am thankful. If it wasn't for you, I would never have entered that facility. Dr. Cumming's help has been tremendous. Everything is so much clearer now,” he answered honestly.

“But I told the FBI where you were,” I admitted.

“You did what you had to do to survive,” he smiled. “It was as I had intended.”

“Wait, framing me, that was part of your plan too?” I frowned.

“You would never willingly give me up to protect yourself, so I made sure you had a push in the right direction,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry about the money though. They couldn’t find the rest of it.”

“Jake, I can’t do this again,” I sighed.

“Have your feelings for me changed?” he narrowed his eyes.

“I do still have feelings for you, I just… I just want a quiet life now,” I explained. “One where I don’t have to look over my shoulder every second.”

“You don’t have to look over your shoulder because I’m here now, watching your back,” he argued. “Anyway, what about our plan of going where they can’t reach us.”

“That money you stole…” I thought out loud. “You stole all that so we could flee?”

“I have a nice place picked out. It’s not a deserted island, but very few people live on it and they’ll never bother us. It’ll be like they don’t even exist,” he grinned. “I would like to show it to you, if you would have me.”

Absolutely speechless, I watched as Jake lowered my foot back onto the ground, then bent over to kiss my boots.

“I’m at your mercy, MC,” he kept his head down and waited for me to act. “I no longer carry the weight that tortured me all those years ago.”

“To be honest,” my voice shook. “I missed you, Jake. This world, this life, is so empty and so fake. Everything is meaningless. I feel so dead inside. Yet looking at you now, my heart beats again.”

Jake stood up and stepped within inches of me. I could feel his warm breath on my lips. I wanted nothing but for him to devour me right then and there and become lost in him again. Where my mind faltered, my body instinctively raised my hand and handed the keys of my car to him.

“Take me there, Jake,” I mumbled.

“To the island?” he questioned.

“To your world and throw away the key,” I rubbed the tip of my nose teasingly against his.

Jake smiled and lowered his lips to meet mine. Instantly the flame of my cold heart had been reignited. His tenderness was soon replaced with a primal hunger. He pushed me back against my car door and pressed his body into mine. His hands ran up and down my body, unable to decide where to rest as he wanted all of me. Parting my lips, I let him into my mouth and he took my breath away. I melted into a puddle before him. By the time he pulled away, I lost the ability to think straight.

“Let’s go before they try to stop us,” he smiled.

And so on that cold December evening, we vanished into the night. The next day, the FBI would discover my abandoned car on the side of the road over 300 miles away, but that was the last they found of us. They had assumed Jake killed me out of revenge and ditched my body somewhere deep in the forest. All the while we were living on a small island in the Caribbean where they would never find us.

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading, liking and commenting on this incredibly long journey! Your support leaves me speechless! ❤️ Now for some bright, happy rainbows and unicorns! 🤣

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #unrecognisable fanfic

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 50: Radiance -While waiting for the next wormhole, Shingen and Katsuko enjoy domestic fluff, birthday cake, and snowboarding… but an old video leads to an unsettling discovery.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

With ten weeks until the next wormhole opened, modern Japan ended up being kind of a vacation for Shingen and I. Rather than join Sasuke in Kyoto, we elected to stay in Nagano since it was more or less home turf for both of us. Thanks to Aki’s generosity (I considered it an employee bonus and figured I had earned every penny – especially since he hadn’t ever paid me an actual salary), I had more than enough money to rent a decent furnished apartment for a few months.

Before the winter kicked in, we rented a motorcycle several times and toured through the countryside, riding down to the Yamanashi Prefecture, formerly Kai. After some discussion, we elected not to visit the Tsutsujigasaki historic site – it would be too strange and jarring. “When we go to Tsutusjigasaki Castle,” he told me, “it will be as it was, so I can introduce you to its people.”

In return, I showed him all of my old kid haunts – not that there were that many – and my favorite places to hike and climb. And of course, Shingen being Shingen, we created our own tour of Teahouses and bakeries around the city.

Sasuke came up from Kyoto every other week, mostly to hang out, but also to report what was going on with the wormhole and his investigation into the mystery of Aki. The latter was unfortunately stalled due to his parents having taken a sabbatical trip through China – they’d rented their house out to a businessman from India.

On my own, I was doing similar research on my old mentor, but to no one’s surprise, he kept an extremely low internet footprint. Nothing like putting your primary residence 450 years in the past to help you stay off the grid. Similarly, though I haunted the library and archive sites, I was unable to find a lead on “Hikosane.” If he had done something important during his lifetime, it wasn’t in the historical record.

The first weekend in December, Sasuke came up and took Shingen out for a man-bonding afternoon. That was how Sasuke described it. I described it as “get him out of the house so I can bake him a birthday cake.” The birthday meal itself, I would trust to delivery, but I wanted to at least make him something sweet.

Cooking and baking were not activities I had done a much of after my mother died, but prior to that, I’d been the primary cook, not just for meals but also desserts. I had gone through a phase where I baked the most decadent things I could find, hoping to tempt her to – Ah… maybe that was why I wasn’t a huge fan of sweets now? I jotted that down in a notebook my therapist was having me keep. I had decided to see a therapist for my claustrophobia and nightmares. They were never as bad when I was with Shingen, but I felt it wasn’t his job to deal with my mental health – I needed to take responsibility for that. Obviously, there wasn’t a lot I could accomplish before we headed back through the wormhole in the Spring (I told my therapist I was moving to Vancouver) but I hoped to at least have the tools I needed to keep moving forward.

I checked the temperature of the cake layers that were cooling on wire racks. Online, I’d found what looked like (per the number of stars the recipe had) an extremely decadent recipe for chocolate and strawberry cake. While I might never win any cake decorating contests, I was confident the cake would at least taste good. Just as I finished mixing up the buttercream frosting, Shingen and Sasuke came through the door, stomping snow off their boots.

“Sorry to bring him back early – the snow’s getting fairly deep.” Sasuke hates driving in snow. For that matter, Shingen’s not terribly fond of being a passenger when Sasuke is driving, so I ought to have expected an early return.

“No worries.” I’d been listening to the weather reports. Deep snow tonight meant this weekend I could finally take them snowboarding – an excursion that we’d planned for as soon as the weather cooperated.

“What’s all this?” Shingen eyed the cake and the bowl of frosting with the intent interest of a sugar fiend who’d been held hostage in a health spa for a decade. “If it tastes as good as it smells, then I’d say we’ve gotten back right on time.”

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a surprise.” Sasuke headed to the coffee machine that we kept out just for him, as neither Shingen nor I had ever developed a taste for it (though Shingen did have a fondness for those fancy caramel mocha lattes they sold at the chain coffee shop – go figure).

“No, it was to prevent… that.” Shingen had grabbed the bowl of frosting and a spoon. I took the bowl away. “That goes on the cake,” I said. He gave me an adorable little boy frown. I leaned closer and said to him quietly. “If there’s any leftover after that, we can have it later… I’ll take the role of the cake.”

Shingen had been stealthily reaching the spoon for a raid on the frosting, but upon hearing that hastily aborted the mission. I ran my finger along the edge of the bowl, scooping up a small amount of frosting on it, and held it out to him. “Will this hold you for a while?”

He sucked my finger into his mouth and licked away the frosting. “For dessert, yes. For you, my sweet Devil, not even close.” He backed me into the counter and dipped me into a kiss. He tasted of chocolate and snow and promises.

“Not a full wall, so I suppose that’s a half-kabedon,” Sasuke toasted us with his mug of coffee.

“Only the Russian judge will care.” I scooted out from under Shingen’s arms, then handed him my phone. “This cake will not frost itself. Why don’t you guys pick a place and order dinner. In this weather it could take a while to get here.”

Shingen opened up the restaurant delivery app. “Any preferences?”

“Your birthday, you pick. Just order something vegetarian for me.” I began putting the crumb coat of frosting onto the cake and pretended not to notice when Shingen stole another taste.

Sasuke rescued the cake from becoming a “naked cake” by taking Shingen into the other room to watch TV – they were working their way through the original Star Trek. I’m not sure Shingen was all that into the show, but it was fun to watch Sasuke watch it. Apparently, he and Gene Rodenberry had incompatible views on the science of space travel. Already I could hear him grumbling that spaceships didn’t need to ‘bank’ in zero gravity.

While I lost myself in the soothing rhythm of cake frosting (given the number of tiktok and youtube videos of people frosting cakes, I wasn’t the only person to appreciate the ASMR quality of cake decorating), I let my gaze wander from where I could see Shingen and Sasuke joking around in front of the tv set, to the window, where the late afternoon snow was lightly brushing against the window.

Respite.

There was that word again. Away from the stress and danger of the Sengoku, Shingen and I were cocooning in this little apartment, learning how to be together without distraction. Once we got back, we’d both have our battles to fight. I was determined to find Aki and demand an explanation, while Shingen was making plans to try to wrest Kai from Nobunaga. But until then, it was nice to have this comfort of daily living together, in order to strengthen what we’d need to face these challenges, both as individuals, and as ‘us.’

Later, after we’d finished dinner and a good portion of the birthday cake, the sugar crash hit, and we all sprawled lazily on the couch, good naturedly debating what to watch, without making any real effort to actually make a decision.

“Are you going to finish that?” Shingen indicated the remainder of the slice of cake that I hadn’t managed to eat.

Oof. Even if I thought I could move (too full), or wanted to move (too comfortable under Shingen’s arm) I didn’t want it. I’d made the cake to his tastes, not mine. “It’s about eighty percent frosting – go ahead. I’ve never liked that much sugar.”

He reached for it, then paused. “Except for the sweets from the Teahouse in Kasugayama – you liked those.”

I made a show of looking innocently at the ceiling and folding my hands penitently while Sasuke snickered quietly from his end of the couch.

Here came the forehead flick. “Really, Devil?”

“I never actually said I liked them. I simply didn’t correct your assumption that I did.” I resisted the urge to rub spot he’d just flicked. No need to encourage him.

“What am I going to do with her?” Shingen addressed Sasuke, who looked like he wanted to yeet out of the conversation completely. “She happily lies to me, steals my clothes” (oh yeah, I was wearing his shirt again), “-falls out of trees-”   

“Alright, enough about that.” I gestured to Sasuke’s tablet, which was currently wirelessly connected to our TV. “Sasuke, go to youtube.” I gave him the address of the old youtube page that Toshiie and I had put up when we were still teenagers. Hopefully after so many years, it was still there. “We’re going to settle this tree thing once and for all.”

Sasuke did that ninja typing thing again. “Password?”

“Tony_Stark1610.”

“Ironman? Really Katsuko, you need better privacy settings than that.” He brought up the page. The freerunning videos were at the top, but we were going to go further back than that.

“Shut it, Spidey I was fourteen when I created this page.” No one would have been looking for it in any case.

He sighed. “At least you didn’t use your pets’ name or your birthday.”

“Sixteen ten is her birthday,” Shingen offered.

Also, Tony Stark had been the name of my cat, but I was not going to bring that up to Sasuke. “I’ll change the password later.” I directed him to the oldest video on the page.

It had been the last time I’d ever competed in artistic gymnastics – a small local competition. My mother, who normally was my biggest supporter had been having a bad week and that morning hadn’t left her bed. Toshiie had filmed the event so she could see it later. As far as I knew, she’d never watched. I’d quit soon after that – I’d only been doing it for her to begin with, and I didn’t have the funds -or the talent - to move up to an elite level. Not that that mattered now. What was on the video would likely look more impressive than it actually was.

Shingen and Sasuke watched my fourteen-year-old self tumble and flip across the balance beam. “There will be no more talk of me falling out of trees.”

“Can you teach me some of that? It would come in handy for a moderately awesome ninja.” Sasuke had a faraway look in his eyes. Likely imagining surprising Yuki or Kenshin with new tricks.

“Ah, now I understand what you meant about training as a performer from a young age.” Shingen watched teen Katsuko slide into a full split then dismount the beam with a flourish. “Are you still that flexible, Devil?”

Nobody with breasts and hips is that flexible. I was about to reply to that one with a forehead flick of my own, when the next video began. “I had no idea he posted this – Sasuke click stop.”

It was the freerunning video from the day of the wormhole – just seeing the view of the building that I was about to ascend brought back the feelings of restlessness and anxiety from that year.

“What’s wrong?” As usual, Shingen was tuned into my emotions and he picked up my hand and held it comfortingly.

“The day we got swept into the Sengoku, Toshiie filmed this. I was just surprised that he’d had time to put it on the page.” Discovering this was like time-traveling to my younger self in an archival wormhole.

“May I watch? I’d like to get a sense of the weather conditions that day – it’s a rare opportunity to have this type of data for analysis.” Sasuke had instantly become alert, ready to flip into Weird Science Mode.

“Um, if we play this, I need to warn you in advance – I was a lot more of a daredevil back then, and my brother and I fought about what I did here.” Which was why I was surprised he’d uploaded it. Maybe to try to talk me out of taking risks.

“So noted.” Shingen didn’t actually promise not to get upset, but Sasuke had already pressed start. I resisted the urge to watch Shingen, especially when I almost fell off a three-story building, but I could feel his tension at that point, and… what was that? “Wait, Sasuke, can you play that back?”

“I really don’t want to see you almost die again.” Yeah, Shingen sounded upset and his hand was almost squeezing mine too hard.

“Don’t watch me – look beyond that… left side of the roof.” Something had distracted me that day – that was why I had nearly fallen to begin with. “There.”

“I see it!” Sasuke paused the video and pinch zoomed. “What the hell is that?”

There had been someone else on the roof – a blurry, foggy figure who then vanished into the horizon almost as if they’d unzipped the sky and climbed in. “Now I am creeped out.” There wasn’t any way to tell who – or what – that had been. “Sasuke..?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He zoomed in some more, but that just added to the blur. “Permission to send a copy of this to myself?”

It might have been Aki.

It might have been Iekane.

It might have been someone completely unknown to us.

Who the hell were these people?

In any case, tracking down and confronting Aki suddenly became a lot more important.

The snowboarding expedition was a mixed success. Sasuke’s Ninja training had come in handy, and after a few basic pointers, he had left to try out his skills on an intermediate course… or more accurately, he’d wanted to further bond with a cute tourist he’d met on the ski lift.

Shingen was athletic, but this was one of the places his height was a disadvantage. With his higher center of gravity, he’d had some trouble getting into his knees. Eventually though, he’d picked it up, and soon was swooping down the training hill. He did fall a couple more times after that, but since both times he’d managed to take me down with him, I figured those had been on purpose.

After a couple hours, he noticed I was eyeing one of the half-pipes. “If you want to do that, I’m ready for a break.”

Hm. It had been seven (or, was it eight – I was never sure how to count the unknown amount of time I’d been stuck in the wormhole) years. Could I still manage it? But with Shingen voluntarily encouraging my daredevil tendencies – why not? I gave him a quick kiss. “See you at the bottom of the hill.

In no time at all, I’d dropped in and traversed the pipe. I’d kept it simple, without trying any of the tricks I used to do, aside from simple 180 turns at the top of each wall. But the rush was still there, and I zipped to the bottom with a whoop. Flying. Me and the sky. But the bigger rush? Seeing Shingen waiting for me at the base of the hill, smiling as he watched me skid to a stop.

“I once called you a moon goddess,” he said as I disengaged from the board. “I was wrong. You’re pure sunshine – made for daylight – the most radiant being I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled up at him and took his hand. “You keep that up and you’re going to melt all the snow.”

“What time are we meeting Sasuke?” he asked, while we were waiting to return our rented equipment.

“We’re not.” I pulled a hotel key card out of my pocket. I’d already packed some luggage for both of us in order to keep this a surprise. “Sasuke took an uber back to the apartment.” Or possibly he was furthering his acquaintance with the tourist he’d met earlier. “You and I are going to that hotel over there,” I pointed to the resort attached to the snow park. “Where we can celebrate your birthday by soaking in a private hot spring.”

Later, under the clear star filled sky, Shingen lowered himself with a sigh into steaming hot water. He leaned back against the natural rock formation and gazed out on the view of Mount Kosha. “This was a good idea you had.”

“I do have them, occasionally.” The combination of the snow kissed air and the hot water felt wonderful on my skin and ok- slightly – aching muscles. “I am a little sore after that… are you?”

“Given that I am close to five hundred years old, yes. These bones aren’t what they used to be.” In opposition to his statement, he swiftly pulled me onto his lap.

“I think you’re in great shape… for your age.” I ran my hands over his chest muscles.

“I fell a little bit in love with you the moment you said that. You had this challenging glint in your eyes.” He put his finger under my chin and drew my face up to his. “Yes, just like now. You hung onto that basket of pastry and acted like an insubordinate recruit.”

“In my defense, you had just set me up to be killed – hey!” Shingen removed my wet tankini top and tossed it aside. My nipples immediately tightened in the cold air. “That is not a place I want to have icicles dripping from.”

“Can’t have that.” He fastened his lips to my breast and warmed it with his mouth and tongue. “Hold still, Devil. I want to see if I can put the same look on your face that you had when you were zipping across the half-pipe.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him closer to me. “You do, Shingen. You might not always be looking my way when it’s there, but… you do.”

@bestbryn

#TBT12lies #throwback thursday #twelve lies i told shingen takeda #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen shingen #ikesen fanfic #ikesen sasuke #sasuke sarutobi

[llflorence]

When you are old - Human AU, professors, there was only one office, Rated E

Aziraphale was an old soul. 

He always had been. From the time he could talk, it was said he was wise for his age. Intelligent, dignified, he enjoyed the finer things in life. A well-versed book of poetry penned by an esteemed writer, the firm press of piano keys to a time-worn tune. He loved old movies and ancient gardens and hand-me-down baking recipes and long-forgotten, grown-over graveyards. Some thought him odd, set in his ways, stuffy. But he loved what he loved, and it made him happy. Why would he ever change?

Aziraphale lived a simple life. He woke each morning with a prayer of gratitude for his historic two-bedroom home. He showered and shaved and dressed for the day. After tea and breakfast, he mounted his vintage Azor Amsterdam (a very good bicycle indeed), and set off for the campus. His leather book bag rested safely in the forward basket like Toto and Dorothy.

He was getting on in years where he sometimes had to walk and push the bike up the hill near the park. Fifty had come and gone, but he still felt seventeen. Even if his body had accumulated extra baggage, his mind was sharp and agile. And besides. Age was just a number.

Aziraphale was lucky. He had a good job as a tenured professor in the English Department, teaching three classes a semester. His colleagues were more than amiable, several of them having become fast and firm friends. He had a nice stash put away, portioned his salary into a decent 403b, with enough money left over for frivolous things like root beer floats with chocolate ice cream and summer-colored sprinkles.

All of that changed with the entrance of one Anthony J. Crowley. 

It was August. The summer was winding down, and the school year gearing up. Staff had returned, faculty soon to follow. His building had scheduled an informational meeting to welcome newcomers and catch up with the old. The department head had oodles of Big Ideas he wanted to share, even though Gabriel didn’t have the greatest track record of follow-through.

Still, the appetizers were always lovely, and the conversation was scintillating.

The glorious smells of freshly ground coffee and sweet, steamed milk welcomed Aziraphale as he entered the eating establishment. It was a venue he’d visited twice before. They offered an eclectic menu, vegan and vegetarian-friendly. If Gabriel did anything right, it was to put on a good show with an inviting atmosphere. And this place met the bill.

Aziraphale waved at Sociology-Anthology. The professors there shared a secretary with the English Department. This meant that whenever anything needed doing, the two departments would cross over, meeting in her office, fighting over territory and who needed what first.

Criminology was there, too, at least two out of the three of them. Though Aziraphale didn’t have an imagination open enough to figure out what curating future police officers had to do with literature and poetry. It was probably just the collapse of resources; more cuts to save the bottom line.

He stopped at the first table for a glass of sparkling something, pausing to sniff its contents before tasting. It proved to be something along the spectrum of apple to pear. Passable, if dry and tart.

He greeted Technical Writing with a handshake, accepting the slap on the back in congratulations for Aziraphale’s newest published work. It was nothing, really, just a spot of poetry he’d been working on for a few years. But sometimes it was nice to be recognized.

“Oi! Professor!”

The sound of that melodic voice, pure and simple and joyous, brought a surge of warmth in Aziraphale’s chest. He’d grown quite fond of the two adjuncts over the past few years. Taken them under his wing, so to speak. They’d both blossomed and flourished and branched out in the fullest way possible, and the radiant smiles on Eric and Muriel’s faces were a sight to behold.

“Hello, Dears,” he crooned, laying a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. Muriel had sprouted patches of freckles over their soft, flat nose, and Eric sported beautiful, long, sparkling lashes. They both looked well-rested and refreshed, eager to begin another year. And eager to spill with the latest gossip.

“Did you hear?” Eric hissed, beckoning Aziraphale to take a seat with them. “They’ve hired a new prof in Cosmology?”

Muriel, too excited to wait for his answer, flapped their hands and picked up where Eric left off. “He’s straight off sabbatical, working on his book. Something about gravity waves, and LIGO?”

Aziraphale sucked in his chin and tilted his head. ”Hm. Cal-Tech. Very impressive. I imagine they’ve brought him on to pick up the pace with retention rates in the scientific fields.”

Eric chortled and shared a look with Muriel. “Oh, he’ll retain ‘em, all right. I have a feeling they’ll be filling his classes like wildfire. The waiting lists will be miles long.”

“Yeah,” Muriel gushed. Their cheeks flushed rosy with excitement. They raised an unhurried hand, fanning themselves daintily. “He’s definitely going to create waves.”

Aziraphale huffed. “I suspect you young people crush on all the older professors.”

Eric looked scandalized. “No! Not on you, not at all!”

Muriel was backtracking faster than Aziraphale’s humility could keep up. “Of course not! You’re more of a father figure.”

Eric nodded enthusiastically. “Right. Father. Where this guy is more of a Daddy.”

The two youngsters giggled, leaning in towards each other, sharing a moment of unbridled glee. Aziraphale smiled, amused, mildly curious. If he read Generation Y’s signs correctly, the newest Physics instructor was handsome.

Aziraphale was decent enough looking. He took care of his skin and his teeth, practiced self-care, and rode his bike daily. If he happened to overindulge a bit on – well, on everything – who in their right conscience could equally judge him?

“How was your summer,” Aziraphale redirected, noting the delightful way Muriel leaned onto Eric’s shoulder. There was something platonic about it, something wholesome, endearing. Two of his favorite people in the world getting on so well warmed his heart.

There was a shared retelling of travels, to the Ozarks, the Upper Peninsula, the ocean. Both spoke with such animation it was like being part of the live-action. Aziraphale nodded and exclaimed and generally felt proud of the quests the two young people had accomplished.

As they spoke, Aziraphale’s mind drifted. Back to the unfinished drawing on his easel. To the rising bread dough on his windowsill. The new sheet music on the piano. He hadn’t traveled, but he still had a lovely summer himself, alone, unbothered. At home. Part of him wished he were back there right now.

But time marched on, and future generations depended on him. Who would guide them through dangling participles and that delicate tipping point between over- and under-describing?

Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap and smiled as his colleagues drew up memories and painted exciting retellings. And when Gabriel entered the building, commanding the attention of all gathered there, Aziraphale considered escaping through the back door on the way to the lavatory.

He didn’t, of course. He stayed. Aziraphale stayed and he listened to the corporate wafflings of a man so far in the bureaucratic shift, he risked falling into the abyss, never to be Humanities again.

Aziraphale humored his boss, greeted him warmly when his speech was done. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault he was a pompous blowhard; he’d been designed that way.

“So,” Aziraphale posed, taking a step back when Gabriel leaned too far into his space. “We’re to move offices again? I’ve heard?”

Gabriel stared blankly at him for two seconds too long. “Oh! Yes! That’s right! They’re remodeling the offices in Tower to take care of the leaky roof. And that means we all get to be a little bit cozy for the first semester.”

Aziraphale didn’t like the sound of that. He’d only occupied his single office for three years now. After sharing for years before that, constantly shifting office mates, the thought of having another was unbearable.

“Oh? When will we find out where –?”

“All in good time,” the man drawled, rocking back on his heels. “There are still two weeks left until freshman orientation.”

Gabriel patted Aziraphale’s shoulder awkwardly, bouncing with misdirected importance along to Human Resources. He didn’t know. They were weeks from the beginning of the semester, and the department head didn’t know where their offices were.

“Oh, dear.”

Imagine Aziraphale’s surprise when, exactly thirteen days from then, he received an email from the chancellor. 

We appreciate your patience as we work to secure the safety of our faculty, staff and students. Office numbers are now posted on the Campus Portal.

Imagine Aziraphale’s surprise when, upon logging in, he discovered he was to be sharing an office in the science building with the new professor in Cosmology.

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose just below the reading glasses and sighed.

He packed up his bike the very next day, bright and early, intent on claiming the desk with drawers that locked. He parked his bike, looped the chain through the tire, and hefted his bag over one shoulder.

The Science Building lay perpendicular to the English Department, cozying up to the two-story library and campus store next door. It was an older section, much older than Aziraphale’s short tenure. It was notorious for musty smells and loud, echoing halls, and not because of the experiments in two large labs.

The halls were empty, his footsteps falling on dull, worn tiles. He followed the numbers on doors, searching for the assigned seven-seven-seven, armed with a key and a foreboding sense of doom.

Aziraphale needn’t have worried about drawers. The two desks that occupied the space didn’t have any. There were no windows, no bookshelves, no storage space at all. Just aging dark wood paneling on the walls, the two pieces of Ikea furniture pushed together like naughty children forced to hug each other in a timeout.

The heavy plank of a door closed behind him, rattling the ancient hinges and Aziraphale’s composure.

He exhaled heavily, set his bag against the wall, and pushed one of the desks into the far corner. Then he collected his nameplate and desk calendar out of his personal things. He set them on his desk and staked claim to that portion of the room.

With no chair, there was little else he could do. He’d have to wait until Maintenance chased down something suitable and —

The door flew open, banging against the wall with the force of a sledgehammer. A clatter sounded in the hallway, and a talk, dark, gangly someone shoved a chair on rollers through the entryway.

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed, quite taken aback. The chair skidded to a stop as it connected with the desk. And then another chair rocketed into the room, colliding with the other and toppling over.

“Goodness!”

If Aziraphale was shocked and startled by the unannounced entrance of flying furniture, it was nothing compared to his reaction to their pilot.

It wasn’t the dramatic upsweep of burgundy-red coils and the angular frame. It wasn’t the warm, California-brown skin, the completely unnecessary dark glasses worn indoors. And it wasn’t even the hipster black-on-black ensemble that hung off the man’s shoulders in an unfairly attractive way. At any other time, the combination of these characteristics would send Aziraphale’s heart into overdrive. 

But the way the man said his name was unforgivable.

“Hiya, ‘Ziraphale! How’s it going?”

He completely left off the first syllable, negating the importance of his identity, a proverbial thumbing of his nose at any sense of first impressions.

Aziraphale’s disgust caught in his throat. Never mind the positively aristocratic nose, the sensual hint of an underbite. The unmistakable air of confidence, the flirty tease of hair on his chest. It didn’t matter he swaggered inside like he owned the place, bending elegantly to set the chair right, smiling with moviestar quality and impeccable grace. He was a flash bastard, and Aziraphale decided he strongly disliked the man.

The new professor leaned against the desk in the center of the room, crossing one long, thin leg over the other at the ankles. He grinned unabashedly, waiting for Aziraphale’s response, capable-looking fingers spread wide over his knees.

“Oh, excuse my manners,” he exclaimed, abruptly pushing away from the desk and taking two steps in Aziraphale’s direction. “Anthony J. Crowley. Gen R.”

He offered a hand, peering over the sunglasses with wide, striking amber eyes. For a moment, Aziraphale was caught looking, drinking in the animal-like qualities within, like a wolf, or an eagle. But it would take a lot more than a stunning set of peepers to get Aziraphale to shake a man’s hand who couldn’t even get his blessed name right.

“Charmed,” he hummed, lips set firmly against the surface of his teeth, hands clenched at his sides. Mr. Crowley raised one eyebrow quizzically, a feat Aziraphale had attempted and failed many times. He straightened from his forward-inclined state, kicking out one foot and cocking his hip to the outside.

“So, we’re to be ‘mates, eh?” 

Aziraphale didn’t trust the way he drew out the ‘m,’ making it seem dirty, insinuating innuendo in the vilest manner possible. It was crass. It was uncultured. It was – well, it was infuriatingly alluring.

“Appears so.” 

Aziraphale watched as Mr. Crowley’s gaze swept from tip to toe and then back again, ending with a coy smile and the smacking of pink lips.

“Any allergies?”

“What?”

“All-er-gies.” He strung it out as if Aziraphale were stupid. “You know. Rashes, hives, uncontrollable sneezing. That kind of thing.”

Aziraphale huffed, drawing himself to his fullest height as if he were above such trivial chatter. “I heard what you said. I just needed clarification.”

Mr. Crowley’s chin dimpled as he nodded. “I’ve got a carload of plants I’ll be stashing here. Brightens the atmosphere. Cleans the air.”

Aziraphale scoffed, gesturing to the absolute water closet of an office. “There’s hardly room for two people, let alone decorations.”

“Oh, they’re not just for decoration,” the man argued, shifting from one foot to the other, still grinning. “They’re family.”

Before Aziraphale could open his mouth to protest, one such specimen appeared in the doorway, a broad-leafed, pod-bearing monstrosity held securely in the arms of one Muriel the Adjunct.

“Oh!” They startled, allowing the potted leaf-bearing object to be lifted from sturdy hands. “You’re here too! How wonderful!”

Aziraphale bit back the snarl that threatened to vocalize and forced a smile. “You’re helping. That’s – very kind of you.”

Muriel wiped their hands on their cutoff jeans. “Yes. Mr. Crowley needed a hand, seeing as his were full with the two chairs. Isn’t it great that he brought one for you as well?”

Aziraphale shifted his gaze from Muriel to Mr. Crowley, noticing the smugness with which the man slouched once more against the desk. “These are your chairs?” he asked, hoping he sounded appreciative of the gesture, even though he very much intended to procure a chair of his own, with much better lumbar support.

“Yep. One for you. One for me. Figured it was the least I could do, knowing what it can be like sharing an office with me.”

Aziraphale couldn’t determine whether the man was teasing or not. “That was – decent of you.”

“Wasn’t it now?” The strength of Mr. Crowley’s smile was as powerful as two suns. He really did think highly of himself, didn’t he?

Muriel cleared their throat, looked proud and absolutely honored to be carting the man’s things around like a servant. “Right. I’ll just run down and collect the rest of the plants.”

And they were off with the jauntiest of steps.

Aziraphale rounded on Mr. Crowley, intending to scold the man for taking advantage of Muriel’s kind and overzealous nature. But the professor had removed his sunglasses and was peering down that elegant nose, a self-assured grin on the most perfect of mouths.

It was honestly quite stunning.

“It was good to meet you,” the man crooned, voice dripping like the smoothest of honeyed concoctions. “I’m sure we’ll be great friends before the semester is through.”

Aziraphale highly doubted that. They didn’t seem to have anything at all in common.

“You as well,” he offered, never one to be impolite.

Anthony Crowley, with his suave hair and clothing, sun-kissed skin, and frankly unprofessional demeanor for one of such stature, gave a little salute and slunk past Aziraphale and out the door. There, he paused, backed up a step and leaned once more into the room.

“By the way,” he drawled, one hand on the doorframe, sunglasses dangling from long, manicured fingers. He nodded in the direction of Aziraphale’s cornflower blue cardigan. “Nice jumper. I have the same one. Wouldn’t it be wild if we both wore it on the same day?”

His smile widened to gremlin-like proportions, and then he disappeared, leaving Aziraphale wondering how things could possibly go more wrong.

He looked down at the soft cabled material, at the swell of his abdomen over the top of his substantial beltline, running a hand over the faint column of buttons from the shirt underneath. It was one of his favorites, wonderfully soft and incredibly comfortable. He looked over at the potted plant, thought of the youthful, energetic enthusiasm of Anthony J. Crowley. And suddenly, he felt very, very old.

“Well, ol’ boy,” he said to himself, reaching for his bag and pocketing his key. He’d forego moving the rest of his things for another day. He suddenly didn’t feel much like returning to work, anytime soon. “Looks like you’re in for one hell of a semester.”

On AO3

#ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #llflorence

[megamind2010]

7, 8, 17, 18 for my ladybug

for you my friend its on the house

7. What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?

hrmm their eternal poker face/blunted affect is very important to me... in terms of personality i'm stealing a little from YOU to say that nell's confidence isn't a facade, she genuinely is a very self-assured person who doesn't tend to lose sleep over the opinions of others... don't hit her with the Secretly Insecure beam

8. If your character's financial situation were to suddenly flip (someone poor becoming someone rich, someone rich becoming someone poor, etc), how well would they handle it? What would be the first thing they would do?

nell is pretty well off! she's got that fat kord industries salary and gotham rent stays down for gotham reasons so she's got decent savings and can afford to treat herself (and casey) often enough. if that vanished... he would handle it pretty well. nell spent his childhood learning how to budget for a family of four after his mother died & his father fell into a horrible depression so he's familiar with the kinds of unexpected bills and expenses that can crop up. between life insurance/savings/nell getting a job as soon as they were old enough/their dad pulling himself together enough to get back into software development the family made it thru... but if nell was put back into that kind of situation now like through losing her job/casey deciding to take everything and run (WHY?) it's at least a situation she isn't totally unprepared for. first up would be taking stock of the situation or strangling casey depending on what exactly happened

17. Is your character holding any grudges? Are they likely to stop?

not a grudge per se but there's definitely unresolved stuff between nell and her dad that neither of them are ever going to bring up that will forever colour their relationship. they also have a general dislike of booster that got worse after ted died and he kind of futilely tried to take them under his wing or bond with him and it pretty much killed any chance of a genuinely close relationship between them LOL while ted was dead she also was kind of pissed at him for not letting her in on the kind of danger he was in but she's just glad he's back at this point

18. If your character were trapped on a deserted island, what three things would they want to have with them? Which person would they absolutely hate to be trapped there with? Which person would they enjoy being trapped there with?

something to purify water so they don't die of thirst... preserved food... a radio? CAN SHE SAY THE BUG? NO? HER LADYBUG JETPACK? WHATEVER!! um sadly she would really hate to be there with casey because she already spends so much time keeping her out of trouble she doesn't want to try and finagle her way off a deserted island while casey is complaining about getting sunburnt. ideal companion would be ted :)

#wiihtigo #sorry casey. im sorry casey. you would thrive on survivor though

[ladylilithprime]

Not New, But New To Us

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Pre-Slash Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Furniture Shopping, Ethical Business Owner Sam Winchester

Summary: A faerie bargain to ensure no one remembered that John Castiel and James Constantine Novak hadn't actually been born twins in exchange for a week of service. At the end of the week, they were presented with an offer of permanent employment and the chance to move into their own home far away from the family that barely counted as such. Now Cas and Jimmy just needed to sort out certain details of living on their own, like buying actual groceries and even furniture.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 13: Splurge

Read on AO3

THEY NEVER WOULD have been able to afford it working any of their previous jobs, even pulling two paychecks for one unfurnished single-bedroom-and-bathroom apartment. Frankly, it would have taken them months to save up enough to afford the apartment itself, even living at home the way they had needed to for the three years after college before embarking on the search that had led them to southern New Jersey in the first place. Minimum wage was not a livable wage as they had discovered, and good understanding managers who could accept and work with their necessary accommodations were few and far between.

Sam was an entirely different breed of business owner than Jimmy and Cas Novak were used to, not even counting the part where he was half-faerie and a powerful sorcerer. Their initial bargain had been for a week of service in the Avalon-located cafe, Lighthouse CommodiTeas, in exchange for the spell which had altered reality so that no one besides the twins, their mother, and Sam himself would ever remember that "John Castiel and James Constantine Novak" had ever been born as only one child instead of two. Due to them not being local - Avalon, New Jersey, was a long way from Normal, Illinois, after all - Sam had graciously included the twins' use of his spare room and meals in the bargain so they would not be at risk trying to afford living out of another dirt-cheap motel on the dregs of their nearly exhausted savings while they worked for him. It was during that week of cohabitation with Sam and his son Jack that it had been revealed that Jimmy was a fairly talented cook and that Cas's frequent binges of stress-baking produced quite delectable results. The twins had been flabbergasted when Sam had offered to hire them on full time at the starting salary of twenty-five dollars an hour with health and dental insurance and guaranteed three weeks of paid time off. Each.

They were not stupid enough to say no to that, even after negotiating overlapping eight hour shifts six days a week with alternating days off. Sam had even been generous enough to spot them the first month's wages up front with the stipulation that their paychecks during that period would consist solely of whatever overtime wages they earned so that they could afford to pay the first and last month security deposit on the Ocean City apartment, turn on the power and water, and acquire some basic necessities from the nearby Good Will and other thrift shops they spotted around the area between Ocean City and Avalon. Much to their surprise, Charlie had taken one of her own PTO days to go with Cas to the grocery store on his first day off to help stock their kitchen with more than just ramen, rice, canned beans and vegetables, crackers, and peanut butter.

She had done it again the next month, this time taking Jimmy to a discount furniture store she knew about because she claimed that she had no idea how he and Cas were managing to eat sitting on the floor around their twenty dollar secondhand coffee table or get anything resembling a decently restful night's sleep on a couple of sleeping bags. She had been only slightly impressed by the explanation that both sleeping bags were opened up and zipped together to make a double thick mattress pad that they slept on between the blankets and pillows they had brought with them on their cross-country trip.

"You aren't living out of a motel room anymore," she pointed out. "You can afford to get a real kitchen table and chairs and maybe a futon if you're that opposed to buying yourselves a couple of actual beds."

"There's hardly enough space for even one bed," Jimmy protested.

"Oh my goddess, there was only one bed," Charlie deadpanned. "Be still my fanfic writer heart."

"You do know we're brothers, right?" Jimmy rolled his eyes, but he had let her shove him into her tiny little obnoxiously orange rollerskate of a 1968 Volkswagon Beetle and drive him across to the mainland. He had even conceded to getting a sturdy wooden table and a couple of chairs that could be used as a wide double-sided desk when not playing dinner table. Three hundred and twenty dollars for a table and two chairs still felt like too much to spend on furniture, but Charlie managed to talk him around by pointing out that it was a one time purchase he would use for probably years.

They were heading for the check out counter with the tags for the table and chairs to pay and arrange for delivery (Charlie's treat since her car wasn't going to hold even one of the chairs) when Jimmy saw it. Two-toned royal blue and purple colorblock, L-shaped, with a long lounger section and plush stuffed cushions complete with large two-foot-squared throw pillows in a zigzag pattern that made Jimmy think of a video arcade carpet. He veered off towards it, ignoring Charlie's bewildered call, and slowly ran his hand over it, feeling the soft, short pile of velvety fabric. He ran his hand back the other way and was pleasantly surprised to find it just as soft in that direction.

"Well, no question why that one is on discount," Charlie said as she joined him. "That has got to be the ugliest couch I've ever seen."

"Girl with the day-glo car says what now?" Jimmy retorted, not looking up from the couch, studying the configuration and dimensions. He lifted one of the cushions and had to bite back an exclamation at the sight of a handle on the inner edge of the base. Soft, big enough to fall asleep on as it was, pillows big enough to sit on at the coffee table if needed, and a sleeper?!

"Fine, touché," Charlie snorted. "You sure about this, though, dude? Two minutes ago you were having vapors over paying three hundred bucks for a table and chairs."

"And as you pointed out, they're meant to be a one-time purchase that Cas and I will get years of multipurpose use out of," Jimmy pointed out. "And it's been discounted, right?"

"Down to eight-fifty," Charlie said.

Jimmy blinked. Mentally translated that as, most likely, being eight hundred and fifty dollars rather than the completely irrational eight dollars and fifty cents. Swallowed. Ran his fingers along the fabric again. "Cas will love it," he said at length.

"Fair enough," Charlie said, and plucked up the tag to add to the others.

#fluffy february 2024 #rk writes #supernatural fic #urban fantasy au #pre-slash sastimmy #furniture shopping

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Everett "Rhett" Tangaroa Species: Hunter (Warden) Occupation: Blacksmith Age: 50 Years Old Played By: Elliott Face Claim: Taika Waititi

"No such thing as an innocent monster. It’s kill or be killed. No complexities there."

TW: Sibling death

It wasn’t easy feeding two hungry kids on an inconsistent salary—there wasn’t always someone willing to pay to have their fae-related troubles taken care of, and sometimes there wasn’t anyone who could pay in the first place. They made ends meet how they could, living on a sailboat to lower expenses as much as possible while still allowing for easy travel around the islands of Indonesia and Papua New Guinea. There were odd jobs here and there for their single father, and the kids themselves had taken to scamming locals whenever they landed in a new place.

That’s why, when he found a sizable community of hunters willing to take them, the paterfamilias of the Tangaroa clan happily gave his son and daughter away.

It was a decent enough life, though being separated from his sister meant that he grew away from her. Instead, he was given to a family with a boy his age, and the two became fast friends. They grew up together, were homeschooled together, and learned how to kill together. It was the strongest bond the boy had ever had with another person, so when it came time to leave the nest, the pair naturally struck off into the world together. They got their own boat and lived on the sea, walking in Rhett’s estranged father’s footsteps to lead a nomadic lifestyle, learning many new skills and workable trades along the way to make ends meet. It worked for them for years, until they found a young woman adrift at sea. She was fae, they immediately knew, but Rhett was able to convince his brother to let her live. He’d never been as rigid as Desmond when it came to killing—particularly with sentient fae, he was more inclined to let them go if they weren’t hurting anyone. Desmond always caved to his sibling’s wishes, caring more about their bond than some stupid fae.

But Mariela, the sun nymph they found floating at sea (an escaped captive, she told them, after her whole aos sí had been destroyed), proved to be a more difficult case for Desmond. It was because Rhett was falling in love with her, and as much as he hated the idea, he did want his brother to be happy. So he tried to just accept it, to get past his prejudice and get used to her living on the boat with them, which worked for about a year. Then she announced she was pregnant, and Desmond snapped.

It was a promise that Rhett had made to Mari to protect their family that ended up saving her, but the same promise killed Desmond. And Rhett, whose hand held the knife dripping in his brother’s blood, blamed the nymph. In a fit of heartbroken rage, he kicked the hesperide off the boat, vowing to kill her if he ever saw her again. And after a week under the unbearable weight of loneliness, Rhett resolved to find her and take both of their lives and put an end to this whole mess.

During the decades that followed, the older hunter fell in with a large family of slayers in Mexico, finding a new family for himself and letting his need for revenge fall to the wayside. Already a talented blacksmith, Rhett built a small forge in the town and provided weapons for his new community, settling into a routine that was comfortable—with the occasional interruption to go hunt down nymphs and other fae when he would get news from his extensive network of contacts.

While out on one such hunt, his surrogate family was wiped off the map, save for one person—a younger slayer he’d come to love as a little brother. Finding him alive was supposed to be a good thing, but with the rest of them gone and the grief too heavy for either hunter to bear, their tempers often flared and they fought until it drove a wedge between them, forcing them to go their separate ways.

Alone again and with nothing else to live for, Rhett resumed his search for the nymph that had ruined his life and set him on this dark path, picking up what might have been her trail again much farther north. So, with the possibility of finding Mariela and putting himself out of his misery, Rhett headed to Wicked’s Rest after hearing what a hot spot it was for supernatural activity. If nothing else, he could live out the rest of his days in this cursed town, being useful with however much time he had left.

Character Facts:

Personality: Paranoid, intense, unpredictable, obsessive, protective, pugnacious, resilient, eccentric

When he is not hunting and killing fae, he can be found working as a contracted smithy at the Ball & Chain forge in the Pines. He is a skilled swordsman and master craftsman.

He has earned himself a reputation among hunters for being particularly brutal with his methods of dispatching fae, and will hunt any type of supernatural being if asked. He has no reservations when it comes to fae with human intelligence or their potential innocence, fully buying into the idea that one day, whether they mean to or not, they will hurt someone.

He suffers from a dissociative disorder that often forces him to stop and check to make sure that his perceptions are real, or that he’s not experiencing a memory. He has several grounding techniques that he uses, but if he is in the presence of another person, he may suddenly ask them to describe something they see or interact with him in a way that would confirm his corporeal presence.

He is fully blind in his left eye and partially blind in his right eye, but it isn’t visibly apparent and the warden is sort of in denial about it. This is a relatively recent injury, and as such, his coordination both in battle and life in general is not what it used to be. This means that more of his targets get away from him, which only serves to make him angrier with the supernatural community as a whole.

Rhett drives (and lives out of) a refurbished vintage Volkswagen van, painted with a rather psychedelic, purple mushroom landscape on its sides and back. He lovingly refers to it as the ‘Fungi Wagon’.

#bio #taken human #human #hunter #taken hunter #taika waititi #white whale #taken #sibling death tw

[nctjpeg]

ok one more thing i swear I SWEAR and then i’m probably done talking about this I think

but UGHHHH when everything was going to hell i remember multiple of their friends being like “please don’t let this make you feel like you aren’t enough” and i’m so fucking angry because I KNOW i’m enough, and despite my deep personal flaws I’m actually rad as hell. I have 2 college degrees, a salaried job in the field I studied in college that people say is “so cool” whenever I talk about it, a decently decorated apartment that I live in and pay for on my own, I have a fantastic group of friends, I am constantly showered in compliments about my looks, fashion, dance moves, and makeup, my second language is Japanese (even though I suck at it) and I’ve been there twice, I’m funny, charming, incredibly intelligent, kind to a fault (until you piss me off), creative, strong, hardworking, considerate, and not to mention beautiful enough to reportedly make people nervous when they look at me.

What makes me so infuriated is HOWWWWW can I be all of these things and still be treated as disposable? HOW MUCH MORE do I, or ANY PERSON, need to be before it’s finally enough for motherfuckers like the one who broke my fucking heart on Saturday. WHYYYYY did they do all that shit they did if they were just going to throw me away in the end and WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK do they feel they’re entitled to? Deep down I don’t think they had malicious intent, but it feels so fucking evil to me how they met me not even a month after my breakup, I told them about what I had been through with my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend, communicated to them about my fears surrounding the mere concept of letting them into my life as a friend, and yet they still ended up treating me like that.

I can’t say I don’t know where I went wrong, because I knew if I didn’t get my emotions under control and stop asking them constantly for reassurance that it would ultimately drive them away as i’m sure it made me more trouble than I was really worth. I’m also really sad because when we first met and started hanging out I LOVED the vibe we shared and how our personalities played off of each other. I noticed similarities we had in our lives and related to the struggles they had been through. I had so much fun being with them and I was so excited for us to build and create a deep and meaningful friendship. I wanted fun adventures, I wanted us to watch our favorite movies together, I wanted us to have a silly girly slumber party because I don’t think they had ever had one before, I wanted us to craft our own inside jokes and make more silly memes of ourselves and our cats to send each other, I wanted them to tell me more about their culture, I wanted us to hang out and practice dance moves to bust out at the goth club, I wanted them to INCLUDE ME in their anime convention shenanigans, I wanted to go to walmart with them and pal around while running errands the same way the do with their bros, but in the blink of an eye it went from “let’s hang out multiple times a week and I can’t wait for us to do all of this stuff together!” to hardly seeing them, watching them flirt with other girls, and them really only messaging me to keep our snap streak going.

yeah I wanted to date them once upon a time, and i’m sure everyone thinks i’m hurting solely because of that, but in reality romantic relationships really mean dick to me. I’ve only had 3 significant others and 2 of those were in my life for a month or so. I didn’t start dating until I was 20, and all of my significant personality-defining relational trauma came from friendships, not lovers. In my mind, friendship can involve far more emotional depth and commitment than dating someone. If we had just stayed casual sex partners (which is what I was looking for initially) or maybe dated for a few months and then it not work out, that’s whatever. But for them to tell me “I consider you one of my closest friends” and then Not Fucking Treat Me Like It? That’s a goddamn war crime level offense in my eyes.

#lizzy's personal posts

[manicdepressivebipolar]

Its been a while...

Good day,

I think this will be the first time using this application connected to my phone. I guess this looks decent?

Okay let's start.

Today is April 9, 2023 in Philippine time.

2023 has been a year of growing my success building my financial strength and reflecting on my personality. But before all of that why I wanted to share this story of my rise above my broke era is that I want to humble myself and be really thankful for God or any higher being that was guiding me along the way.

Year 2022 a summary.

2021 I was at job that pays as little as 8-12k a month and I was trying to make ends meet from my schooling, my rent and my daily needs. I opted to find a job that sounds futuristic - I switched to an online job. This was one of the best decision I had in my life looking back. 2022 I was having double job, I invested on tech to keep my two jobs and it was working. Since one of my job was paying high enough to cover both of my jobs I continued on even though I know it was ruining my physical and mental health. I was an HR Director and a web designer on the side. I decided to leave my job immediately  when I found myself crying and dragging myself to work on a daily basis. It was literally killing me.

I did not have any back-up job or whatsoever. All along I was relying on my savings. The wrong turn was I was using it for my leisure and not looking for a new job. Anyway, I got broke and went into different loan sharks to make ends meet. This was another and one of my biggest downfall ever.

I landed a job after 6 months from a finance company in the US. It did not pay me well at first but I did not have much choice. Slowly, I was able to pay my depths and gaining back my social activities but everything seems to be a blurr moving forward 2022 from there then - I kept going out, partying, being with strangers to have fun and did illegal things on the side up until the last day of December.

It did not really affect my financial but I know I was still in depth.

from June of 2022 till November 30 - I was juggling three jobs. Just to pay everything already. I eas making my life work, I was paying what I owed people and banks.

Until I decided to let go of one job that really helped me rise up. I could not keep it due to the stress it was giving me on a daily basis. I kept my fiance job due to its flexibility in working terms as a digital nomad and one job that I got as a blessing from my friend which was a direct hire in Texas, USA.

Since December I was earning alot more than I was expecting. Slowly, I was rising from my era of being broke.

2023.

My salary increased by 10,000 pesos in finance and the other job paid as it is but I had alot of extra hours worked so, I was living comfortably by January. I was able to buy the phone that I wanted, I got a free PC from my company, I was paying my own place and bills without anyone helping and I get go help my boyfriend while he kept going in fulfilling his dreams in being a doctor here in the Philippines.

When my boyfriend passed the board exams. We promised that 2023 was a year of us fulfilling our dreams, meeting our goals and establishing our professional career while we were fixing our relationship and making our bond more stronger including our family.

2023.

Looking back at my 2022 and comparing my situation now, I am really blessed. God or any higher being that helped me out of that dark hole, humbles me every single time. I also want to take credit for never giving up on the situations I was in. I kept going. I kept myself from being humble without losing my stand on my personality at work.

I had so much day and reason to give up already in life but there is always that voice "matatapos din to", " I will have the life that I want" and " kaya ko to". Those simple motivation in my head really kept me going.

My boyfriend landed a job, I kept going and earning. Both of us is building our financial stability and strength, earning together, saving, treating ourselves on the side and finally hindi na kami magugutom.

I remember, before halos wala talaga kami makaen. We needed to tipid the things we have. We relied on the little money we have to eat on a daily basis. But now, we have abundance of money, food, other supplies and we can treat ourselves and or family. We are so lucky!

I know we are still starting but as early as now I just want to be thankful with all the blessings I am receiving, my boyfriend is receiving and I hope this continues and everything we manifested will be soon be true.

From negative balances to an abundance as of today. I can't help shed a tear or cry a river of tears on this journey. It truly is a miracle and just really leaves me in an awe on how I did everything.

[wordsofapanda]

A lot has happened in the past few days. I’ve been making moves trying to find a new job. This would be my first salary job. I assumed I wouldn’t make a decent livable wage due to not finishing my associates so I was lowballing for a bit. Well all of this hard work finally paid off! Not only did I get a job with health insurance, which isn’t as common with every full time job, I make more than TWICE the amount of my last job. Not only that, they don’t mind accommodating to my disability; they even asked how they could make things easier. Technically, I’ll be making more than some teachers, which is tragic but great for me. I had my first day today and it wasn’t bad at all. There is room for growth and getting a raise. I’m just super happy. A month ago I was wondering if I was ever going to get a job that paid enough to be on my own and now I have one. I thought I was incapable and didn’t have the qualifications, but I just needed the right company. Most of my interviews were only 5-7 over minimum wage and made me feel like I didn’t have enough skills but goddamn were they all wrong. Suck it!