#and i refuse to do it when i have access to my laptop
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how would the 141 + konig and vaqueros react to reader (not part of the military,just a civvy) randomly having connections with a bid deal military person like someone on a higher rank💀 imagine them being "oh general ___? we had dinner at his house last week. i met him while I'm on a coffee run" or someone from 141 mentioning that they need something and reader is just like "hmm i might have someone for that"
this is so funny to me
ghost: he needed access to some computer data from a big law firm, but they refused to cooperate with him or the team. at dinner one night, you two were talking about your days when he mentioned his frustration with this law firm. “what firm is it?” you asked curiously and he told you it was a group called ‘Henson and co Law’. you started laughing and when he looked confused, you smiled. “i know their mom. i use to babysit them for her after their dad left the picture. let me see if i can get their mother to talk some sense into those brothers.” the next day, the law firm quickly gave ghost what he needed and asked him to give you their love.
soap: you two were laying in bed together, him having just return from a recon mission. “you know, this mission is being over complicated just because no one knows how to get into this gala. every time we try and get invites, they reject us!” he let out his frustration and you looked up from your book. “you talking about the Mason Gala? i can get you in. Helen Mason is my godmother!” soap immediately whipped his head towards you, desperately grabbing at your arm. “please doll! also your godmother is a multi millionaire?” you shook your head, getting your phone out to text the women and ended up securing the whole team and yourself tickets.
gaz: you two were on a facetime call while he was on a mission. the homecoming date kept being pushed back because one of the guys they were supposed to get intel from kept flaking. gaz was expressing his frustration with the whole thing when he mentioned a name to you that was super familiar. “wait a minute…you don’t mean Ben Klark? i went to high school with him!” you laughed when gaz lurched forward. “please tell me you still have contact with him! we need tech!” you nodded, grabbing your laptop to message him. the next day, three boxes showed up full with the Klark tech the team needed.
price: he hosted a bbq at your guy’s house every other weekend. you were bringing out trays of food to the boys at the backyard table. they were deep in work talk when you joined. “we just need to somehow get the Jacobsons sisters to agree to go undercover.” price shook his head, knowing the two girls would never agree. “you mean Vanessa and Amelia Jacobsons? their mom does my nails.” you mentioned causally, setting the tray of food in front of soap and gaz. “wait you know them?” price looked at you confused. “yeah the girls come into the shop whenever i’m in to gossip. i think i have Vanessa’s number. i can try and convince her if it’ll help.” you looked at the boys, confused as to why this was groundbreaking to them. the boys immediately started begging you to ask the girls and you giggled as you went back into the kitchen, grabbing your phone to text the two girls.
alejandro: you happened to be sitting in his office, waiting for him to take you to lunch when him and two other officers walked in. “what do you mean we don’t have a pilot? no one on this base can fly?” he sounded frustrated as the two officers shook their heads. “you need a pilot?” you asked, catching the three men’s attention. “why? do you know one?” one of the officers asked. “yeah my brother. he’s overseas in america but i’m sure he’ll be able to do it. he’s air force.” you grabbed your phone to text him. alejandro crouched in front of you, kissing your head. “you’re my favorite, did you know that? i’ll contact his C.O. and get him down here.” you smiled, squeezing his hand. “you still owe me lunch.”
rudy: he was working in his home office when you entered, a plate of food in your hands. “rudy honey? you gotta eat.” you placed the plate down on top of the stack of papers he had buried his face into. “i will once i can get a reputable translator for when we go to russia in a few days.” he groaned, softly pushing the plate to the side. “i think i have a guy for that.” you pulled your phone out and started texting. rudy looked up at you, the look of hope in his eyes. “i’m desperate. everyone i reach out to is so sketchy.” he rubbed his eyes and you nodded. “Mikael Petrov. i studied with him in college. great guy.” you handed your phone to him with the contact pulled up. “you are a blessing.” he stood before kissing you gently.
könig: you were folding laundry in the family room when könig came home. he kicked his boots off before collapsing in his favorite chair next to you. “rough day?” you asked, not looking up from your task. “ja. everyone is busting my ass to find a hacker that can decode this transmission we intercepted.” you chuckled at the very militaristic sentence. “you could’ve just asked me baby. i know so many people.” you placed his pile of laundry on his lap before kissing his head. “you know someone? a hacker?” he looked concerned at first. “don’t ask. college roommate for all 4 years.” you laughed before getting your phone out. “Emila Davenport.” you gave him her number before taking the laundry basket full of clothes back upstairs to your room. “i’m gonna marry you someday, maus!” könig called out and you laughed loudly in return.
#ask#soap x reader#ghost x reader#gaz x reader#price x reader#alejandro x reader#rudy x reader#könig x reader#request#cod x reader#mw2 x reader
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Hobbies need to be accessible. I believe that it’s becoming more and more important for people to have physical hobbies that create real things and develop real skills--giving people a sense of accomplishment and overcoming feelings of helplessness. But so often, it seems like even beginner-level instruction is aimed at making the entry barrier as high as possible.
I was reading this book where this guy argues that people should develop areas of “micromastery” when getting into a hobby. Find one small, achievable, but still impressive task to master, so you have a cool skill to show off (and the sense of accomplishment) without having to master an entire huge area of knowledge. Instead of learning to cook, learn to create a really good omelet. Instead of learning an entire new language, learn to count to ten. And then you have a knowledge base to help you if you want to explore further. Seems very common sense. Very accessible. Learning is for everyone, not just people who want to devote tons of time to a new hobby. But even that guy, in his instructions, keeps telling people to buy the most expensive equipment to have the best possible results. There’s even a point where he says “the more expensive, the better”!
That infuriates me. I am enraged. The guy who’s trying to make learning accessible to the masses is now saying this is the realm only of the rich! It’s telling people to buy into the marketing ploy that more expensive is automatically better! It’s absurd. It’s insane. There probably is equipment that improves the outcome of the final product, but it’s not necessarily the most expensive stuff, and you certainly don’t need the expensive stuff when you’re just starting out!
Yet, tutorials and craft books keep pushing this message. If you want to start drawing, you need an expensive sketch book and seven different pencils and different weights of pen, and the right eraser. If you want to bake, you have to have the best flours and the appropriate sourdough technique. If you want to knit, you better have the expensive yarn. That’s garbage, and it makes things more difficult than they need to be.
When you’re just starting out, you’re learning if you even like the activity. Do I like spending time drawing? Do I even like the process of knitting or woodworking or building model airplanes? It’s pointless to spend tons of money on good yarn only to find that you hate the process of knitting. Pointless to get the good pencils when the process of drawing makes you want to crawl out of your skin.
If you want to try something, just try it! As simply and cheaply as possible. Want to draw? Get a free pencil and a bit of notebook paper. Want to knit? Get a pair of knitting needles from the thrift store and some dollar store yarn. As you get deeper into the hobby, you’ll probably want to upgrade your supplies--but now that you know more about the process, you know what problems can be solved by better supplies.
I was always intimidated by bookbinding--the tutorials always talked about having the right glue and the right book press--until a guy in the comments said, “I use Elmer’s Glue and my laptop.” I could manage that! That was accessible! I got some glue and some big textbooks and made a book! Not perfect, but it wouldn’t have been perfect even if I had the fancy supplies--I was just starting out! And then I figured out that a paper cutter and some kind of tool to smooth the endpapers would be useful. So I got that--as cheaply as possible. I have made books and I have enjoyed it without a huge investment in time and money. And more tutorials need to take that approach. I refuse to believe that we have to give tons of money to the crafting industry. I refuse to believe that we have to be consumers in order to become creators.
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AITA for making my room uninhabitable for my father?
I know this sounds awful, but do hear me out.
I (16 NB), naturally, still live with my parents. I share a Steam account with my father, which he is on all the time, making my own account pretty much inaccessible to me at this point? We keep discussing making him his own account, but he still refuses to. I asked him politely to exit out of his game when he was finished so I could access mine from my laptop in my room upstairs.
I would like to make very clear that I have quite a large room that doubles as an extra living space that my siblings and friends have access to. I have made one boundary request with my parents, and that is that they don't come into my room without alerting me first. Part of it is because my father has stage 4 COPD, and can't inhale strong scents without it inhibiting his ability to breathe (I, quite frequently, have scented candles lit, or spray aerosol lavender spray), so it's an additional measure for his safety, but it's also because I'm a teenager and would like to have a semblance of privacy.
Now here's where the good stuff kicks in. My father can't get into steam because he logged himself out. His confirmation email goes to my phone, and naturally, he comes to get me so he can have his code.
He wakes me up at 5:30 in the morning to do so.
So not only has he woken me up at 5:30 while I'm on vacation from school pissed that he logged himself out of steam and needing the login code, but he's also broken my biggest boundary. Now, I was in the middle of a depressive episode, and admittedly, I had gotten my room get quite messy, which is something he hates, but not only is he yelling at me about Steam, he's also yelling at me about my room, which I had told him and my mother I would clean that day, effectively giving me a panic attack.
This isn't the first time he's done this either, as he has a tendency to go into my room while I'm at school and rat me out for tiny things. He's even gone so far as to ground me and prevent me from going to a DND session that I DM, forcing me to have to cancel, for something as small as not having put my laundry away, and it just gets annoying after a while.
I have, in fact, cleaned my room, and am in the middle of making him his own steam account, but he and my mother have broken my singular boundary far too many times, and I'm tired of it. I have started having a candle lit at all times, and when I'm not home, I drench my room in aerosol air freshener at all times, knowing my father can't come up because of the strong scent. Am I the asshole?
What are these acronyms?
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domestic yandere bf!leon headcanons
and by domestic i just mean like no blatant kidnapping n shit like reader and leon have a legitimate relationship but reader has no idea how aggressively he’s pulling strings behind the scenes
btw i’ve had this written out on my laptop for literally two years so a lot of this is ‘something permanent’ adjacent but it’s not specific to that universe (for other obvious reasons skdfjivhes)
here we go:
leon is extremely protective like, to the degree of being paranoid. doesn't like when you go anywhere or do anything by yourself, which for most people would be suffocating, but leon was very strategic about implementing this very slowly over time. little do you know that this sentiment of his applies basically all the time, because what would happen if you were to slip and fall in the shower, or have a bad day at work, or anything else off of the infinite list of terrible things that could happen, and he wasn't there?
leon tries to convince you to quit your job and stay at home to let him take care of you, but you refuse, not wanting to have to rely on him completely, especially before you're married. so naturally he takes that very literally and shortly after you get married, leon has a word with your boss and you’re magically fired on the spot. this of course is a huge shock to you and leaves you extremely depressed, and therefore even more reliant on him.
leon is very controlling of you in subtle ways, but more than manipulative enough to disguise it as simply caring for or looking out for you. going to get something to eat? no need, i'll make it for you! having a shower? mind if i join you? just showering, i promise... you woke up with a tummy ache? call out of work and let me take care of you! your check engine light is on? it's not safe for you to take your car, looks like i'll be giving you rides for a while! no, honey, i don't know why your friends have gone cold and stopped reaching out. that's their loss. now we can spend more time together! he'll even go as far as to purposefully place your things in cabinets he knows you can't reach, just as an excuse to help you grab them when you inevitably need them.
leon has every device you own bugged and cloned, and therefore constant access to your every message, call, photo, and all of your socials, and your location, at all times. he doesn't check them incredibly often when he's home with you, but checks up on you constantly when he's away for work. it's not uncommon for you to conveniently receive a call from him whenever you leave the house, stay late at work, go somewhere other than straight home after work, etc etc
leon has cameras hidden fucking everywhere in your place. inside and outside of the front door, two in the kitchen, two in the living room, three in the bedroom, one in the bathroom, and not only can he check them any time, but he also keeps a good amount of the footage, particularly from the bedroom. for. definitely pure reasons. anyway, you already know he spends every second of his very limited free time on missions just watching you on the cameras.
leon always wants you to be healthy and well, but he loves taking care of you when you’re sick. you get to call out of work and lay in bed all day while he tends to your every need, and in the hours you spend sleeping it off, he just gets to hold you, and pet your hair, and watch your face, listen to your weak breaths and the little noises you make sometimes. come to think of it, it sure is odd how often you seem to be coming down with colds, given how little time you spend outside of the house to begin with...
leon makes an effort to make you perceive your relationship and his actions as normal as possible. he is incredibly careful to keep this behavior under wraps, and will legitimately tell you anything if it means getting you off of his trail. with his government training in de-escalation, the man is a master manipulator and the CEO of successfully gaslighting. "How was visiting your friends today?" "It was good, how did you know I went to see them, though?" "You told me you were going to when I called this morning." "Did I?" "You did. Or maybe I'm the crazy one and I just made a lucky guess." "Well, I guess I must have, then. Though, between the two of us, I think we can agree I'm the crazy one. I can't seem to remember anything right." "That's why you have me to keep your head on straight, princess."
speaking of princess, pet names ! which he loves. he calls you princess, puppy, angel, doll, honey, baby... he didn't used to use them so often, but he quickly took notice of the liking you’d taken to it when he would, so it became a regular thing. anything to make you blush. you’re just too cute!
mkay we gotta talk about sex <33 under the cut NO MINORS
which leon likes to have very very frequently. obviously he's obsessed with you, and it typically only takes being in the room with you for ten full seconds for him to have a hard time fighting off the image of all the things he wants to do to you. he genuinely finds you attractive, irresistible even, in any condition, whether you’re dolled up for him or depressed in bed wearing the same shirt for three days straight, he's just obsessed with and praising of you and your body.
whiiiiich certainly translates through his love-making. a true master of foreplay, having learned every inch of your body like the back of his hand, he knows exactly how to touch you in ways that grant him the most reaction out of you. this man will seriously edge himself for hours getting lost in playing with you, he's highly skilled at giving head and loves to do so. man’s a total munch. it's a relatively surefire way to get your attention for a while and he takes advantage of this often.
finishing inside of you is practically a must for him, he finds it so intimate and the deepest way to connect with you and gift you a part of himself. he rarely, if ever, cums anywhere else, and when he does, it's usually on your stomach and/or thighs. i don't see him being particularly interested in actually having children though, considering that would mean taking a considerable amount of your attention and focus away from him, and he wants you all to himself.
^^^ lol anyway
his fave position(s): missionary, so he can watch your face, but with enough convincing he'll let you ride him sometimes, because you want to-- not that he doesn't enjoy it, he just doesn't want you to have to do any of the work! he prefers to spoil you and just let you relax and enjoy yourself.
#venustext#sintext#resident evil#leon kennedy#yandere!leon kennedy#dark!leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#yandere!leon kennedy x reader#dark!leon kennedy x reader
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Let Me Make This Clear, Angel
Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Swearing
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.5K
Summary: Rafe isn't the biggest fan of Y/N's lab partner.
Masterlist
Even though Rafe and Y/N have been dating for almost a year, they have never had their first real fight with each other. Rafe would rather do anything but fight with Y/N and she would rather talk things out with him before it got to a full-blown argument. However, one person who has been causing discourse between the couple is Andrew Jameson. He is Y/N’s lab partner, but Rafe can just tell that it isn’t all Andrew sees Y/N as. She always sees the best in people, refusing to listen to Rafe’s slander against her friend. This makes anger brew in Rafe’s stomach. He is a jealous and possessive man. It drives him crazy that Y/N won’t stop contact with Andrew. Rafe thinks she is too trusting of him.
——
Y/N knows Rafe wouldn’t like her being in her dorm alone with Andrew, but every public place they looked for somewhere to work on their project was busy and they really needed to get started on the pre-lab. At least in her dorm, Rafe has easy access to it. She does sympathize with Rafe’s fears, yet she also knows he often overreacts when it comes to his jealousy and it’s too late for her to switch partners anyways. “Can you look over my hypothesis and tell me what you think?” she asks, turning her laptop in Andrew’s direction. He is looking over her work when the lock of her dorm room opens. Rafe shoves the door open with an angry look on his face. “Get out,” he roars, making Andrew scramble to pick up his stuff and leave. Y/N turns to her boyfriend in fury, “What the fuck was that for? We were working on something.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that he wants to fuck you? That I don’t like him,” he questions in a low tone. Y/N shakes her head with a chuckle, “I know you don’t like him, Rafe. But I have told you so many times that nothing is going on between us and that I can’t change partners this late in the semester.” “I don’t care that you don’t think he wants to have sex with you. I know that he does. You shouldn’t be in the same room as him alone,” he yells, approaching her so he is now towering over her.
“Really? Do you really trust me so little that you are acting this possessive? If you were alone with a girl that I knew wanted to have sex with you, I would still trust that you would be faithful to me.”
Rafe can see the frustration grow in Y/N and it only fuels his anger. He steps forward so their chests are pressed against each other, “Let me make this clear, Angel. You are going to stop seeing Andrew alone. You are going to hold the rest of your lab meetings online. Am I clear?” Her hands find his chest, “You’ve made it crystal clear. You don’t trust me. And if you don’t trust me, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.” With one final shove, he is out of the door and watches as she slams the door in his face. He can hear the deadbolt slide into place. He starts to feel panic creep into him. He may have just lost the most important person to him just because of his silly little jealousy.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia
#let me angel#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron series#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#obx x reader#obx fic#outer banks x reader#outerbanks#outer banks rafe#outer banks imagine#obx#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx fanfic
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Crack-fic 2 Electric Boogaloo
Ok wow, that last fic got some attention. Even the original creator of the AU I was writing about liked it. Wtf. So, um, here's another one! Based on @lets-try-some-writing 's Mr. Pax Au. Yes, I'm bothering you again.
Basically: Prom is coming up and the kids want Optimus to be there. He's flattered. Then cons show up. Destruction.
~
It was odd to have your favorite teacher also be an alien robot. At least Miko made money because of it. Jack and Raf are still mad that she, of all people, called it. There were many advantages though. Easy access to tutoring. Free rides. A shoulder to cry on.
The three of them even helped Optimus with his human disguise! If only to help with the Uncanny Valley he would give them sometimes. His hair was messier now, and he finally got something close to a wardrobe. However, there were some things they couldn't control. Like the way his eyes would get this subtle glow when he got angry or was concentrating. The way his holoform would appear to stop breathing for an extended period of time. Or when we would sing, it was hard to describe, but an almost invisible sound could be heard. Like a bell in the back of your mind. The three of them would soon learn that it was because Optimus, and the other bots in general, could produce sounds just outside of what the human ear could hear clearly.
As the months went by, Mr. Pax would be the best teacher any of them had ever had. Then he would drive them to base and be Optimus. The best dad on this, or any other, planet. It was the best of both worlds!
Sure they had to deal with the Vice-Principal. Trying to get Mr. Pax fired for being a better History teacher in one year than he had been in 15. Vince who, no matter how much Mr. Pax intervened, always went out of his way to make someone miserable. Whether it was Jack or some other poor soul. On top of getting shot at, blown up, stalked, and kidnapped by Decepticons. A break is always welcomed.
Which is how we got here. Miko borrowing Raf's laptop to look at some very sparkly dresses at the base while the boys went to grab some food. Very out of character for the little punk and Optimus noticed immediately. It didn't take more than a few minutes for Optimus to go into the back and for Mr. Pax to emerge out of the dark hallways.
Mr. Pax walked up the stairs and towards the couch where Miko was. She looked very puzzled as she scrolled through the array of dresses on the screen. "You hardly ever even consider that type of fashion Miko. Is everything alright?" Mr. Pax questioned. Miko's head shot up. Clearly not expecting him. "Oh, hey boss. Yeah, everything's fine. Just looking at Prom dresses. My parents are insisting I go." She rolled her eyes and went back to scrolling. "I heard some of the other teachers talking about that. What is 'Prom'?" Mr. Pax inquired.
"Basically is an over-hyped party for seniors to dress up and take pictures with their dates," Miko explained. Mr. Pax hummed. "I hope you have fun regardless." He smiled. Miko gave a laugh and waved him away. Instead of leaving, Mr. Pax took a seat next to her on the couch. "How about we look together? Maybe we can find something you like. Or at the very least something you can edit to fit your style." How could Miko refuse? It wasn't every day she got 1-on-1 time with Best Dad!
Hours passed with them just...looking at dresses. Short ones, long ones, ugly ones, expensive ones. Till, finally, they found it. A knee-length, off-shoulder, black cocktail dress. With a silver detail on the waist. It was a decent price, and Miko could already see every edit that could be done to make it hers. SHe gave Mr. Pax a tight hug before writing down the link to go back to later. Once she got home and back to her own computer that is.
Mr. Pax repeated the process with Jack and, suprisingly, Raf. He thought nothing of it. He was helping his kids students pick out some decent clothes for an importent event. It was the least he could do. Esspecailly with the war dragging them into places and senarios they had no buisness being in.
Before they knew it, Prom was right around the cornor. Mr. Pax was in his classroom grading some papers for the math teacher. When a knock at his door brought him out of his trance. It was Ms. Summer. The science teacher. He opened the door.
"Hello Ms. Summer, can I help you?"
"Yes. You see Mr. Pax, I have a date next weekend."
"That's great!"
"It is... except I suck at scheduling and our date is at the same time as Prom. I was wondering if you could chaperone in my place?"
Mr. Pax was taken aback. He was not expecting this. "Um... sure. Why not? I don't have a lot going on anyway." He chuckled. Ms. Summer gave him a big smile. "Oh thank you, Mr. Pax! You have no idea how much this helps!" Ms. Summer exclaimed.
Back at base later that day, the children were all talking about their prom plans. "I have some money for bowling if you guys are interested." Jack offered. "Bowling sounds nice," Raf replied. Optimus glances over at the children, trying to hide a smile. He failed. "Hey Boss, you're gonna be there. Right?" Miko suddenly asks. Optimus, now very confused, turns to her. "You...want me at Prom with you all?" The three of them looked at him like he was stupid. In that moment, he was. "Of course, we want you there! You're our favorite!" Raf's words sent warmth through Optimus's spark. He smiled "Then you will be happy to know that Ms. Summer has asked me to chaperone Prom in her wake." Immediately the children started hopping and cheering. "Just because Prom is coming up doesn't mean you all get to skip out on Homework. Miko." She gave him a look of fake offence, before laughing and returning to celebrating with Jack and Raf. Optimus gave a small chuckle and went back to his duties.
Before they knew it, Prom was here. Mr. Pax stood near the door to the building. Glad in a, rather beautiful , black suit. Red flower details covered the suit jacket from top to bottom. Even the tie had red flowers on it! Making it look a lot more expensive then it was. Being a hologram and all.
Prom went, surprisingly, well. The children had fun. Their classmates had enthusiastic reactions to Mr. Pax being there. Except Vince. For obvious reasons. Miko had taken the dress and added spikes, pink and green mesh, and had taken a knife to the skirt. While Jack and Raf were in a blue and yellow suit, respectively.
That was, until Prom got raided by US soldiers. They evacuated everyone from the building. As Mr. Pax was dragged outside by a soldier, he saw what caused the commotion. Even from a distance he could tell they were Deceptions. Three of them. Flying straight toward him. Threatening his students.
He tried to calm down. He really did. He helped get his students to safety. He got as many personal items as he could carry. Nearly punched a soldier. Nearly. He held himself back don’t worry. Blasts of Energon rained down on the building. Chunks fell off. Rubble caught fire. A couple light fixtures exploded.
As the last of his students was taken away by soldiers. Optimus finally let himself take out his anger. Returning to his bi-pedal form, he fired three shots. Each one took out a wing on each con. As the Cons fell from the sky Optimus grabbed them. With the strength of a thousand suns he, as Miko would describe, cracked them like glow sticks. Then threw each one toward the horizon.
When the cons returned they looked like they had been through Kaon. Shaking and rattling like newsparks. As they relaid the story Megatron could feel his spark freeze. Optimus did this? When did he get so violent? Even Soundwave shivered at the story.
Back at the Autobot base, Optimus held Raf, Jack, and Miko close to his spark. Literally. He refused to set them down for longer then necessary. They were still in their, now destroyed, prom clothes. Shaking and crying. Though you didn’t hear that from me. Eventually the day caught up to the and they fell asleep, still in Optimus’s hand. Going into his room, he layed there. His kids sleeping on his chest, close to his spark.
#transformers prime#transformers#my fic#crack fic#jack darby#miko nakadai#rafael esquivel#optimus prime#tfp optimus prime#prom#fanfic
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Ultimatum | Part four
Summary: You give Charles an ultimatum. His apartment or you.
Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five
Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!
Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Thank you, and Enjoy! :)
Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover
WARNING: All the information in this text is pure fiction, and the names and addresses are strictly fictive. I’m not a lawyer also, so I’m sorry if the procedure isn’t exact or conventional. Please bear with me.
It was only on the morning of Christmas Eve, the 24th, that you received a notification from your lawyer.
You opened your email, and what you saw left you speechless.
Y/n Y/L/N
24 Av. de la Costa
Monte-Carlo, Monaco, 98000
December 24th 2022
To the honourable avocat
Mr.Charles Leclerc applies for full custody of the child he made with Y/n Y/L/N. At the child's birth, he applied for full custody due to the unstable actions of the named companion. He asks for a no permission for the mother to have contact with the child once it is born.
This motion is under inspection by Judge Carpinelli. He asks the child's mother to report to the court of Monaco for a session on 24 January. Meanwhile, a request to contact the doctor in charge of the pregnancy and in progress.
Mr. Charles Leclerc also requests access to the accused's address to obtain the necessary documents for this procedure.
Given the information above, my client is asking the court to order the child to live with him full-time without authorized contact with the mother. He also requests compensation for the emotional damage your client put him through.
Sincerely
Lawyer Felipe Rossi.
“What the fuck?” You gasp, trying to understand what's in front of you.
You read the email several times before you understand what it means. He wants to take away your parental rights. “How can he do that?” The little device that control your level of stress starts going on.
“Honey, what’s going on?” Question your mother worried about your sudden change of mood and the biping starting.
You don’t have the strength to speak and give her your laptop. She takes several minutes to process what she’s reading. “How could he do that?”
“He’s asking for full custody.” She mumbles under her breath.
“He can’t do that.” Your voice breaks, trying to make sense of this whole situation.
You didn’t think it would go that far. You suddenly feel betrayed and out of control. All your choices come back to you and all the conversations you’ve had with him, too.
“Well, apparently, he can.” Your mother adds given her husband the computer for him to read. “Since you refuse to let him be the father.”
“I do not deny that he is the father; I just don’t want to be around him right now.”
“Will you let him be around when the baby is born?” Ask your mother.
“I... I don’t know. He hurts me, mom.” You burst into tears.
“I know. But he’s powerful, and he has a lot of contacts.”
“Oh, my god...” This situation is going out of control, and your breathing quickens. This whole thing is starting to become a nightmare, and you didn’t think he was capable of that much cruelty.
A panic attack invades you, and you start to hyperventilate, unable to calm down. You begin to get dizzy, and your parents try to help you, at least they can, but impossible. How can he do that to you? After all, he did. He’s the one who slept with that girl. He’s the one who didn’t listen to you. He’s the one who didn’t want your comfort. He’s... he’s... horrible.
You start walking like a lion in a cage, your breathing gets overwhelmed, and you faint. The bipping going crazy.
Charles can’t believe what he just did. All his dark thoughts and those around him encourage him to take up this voice. He knows it’s wrong, and he’s the wrong one. Why is he doing this? He doesn’t even know himself. Everyone’s rocking in his head, and he can’t back down.
The letter was sent, and his lawyer was notified. A sense of shame takes hold, and he can’t even look at himself in the mirror in his lawyer’s waiting room.
You wake up an hour later and calm down. Your thoughts gather, and you manage to sort without being overwhelmed. You gradually regain control of yourself. You feel your little girl agitating in your belly and caressing it distractedly. Feeling her close to you reassures you.
You find yourself alone in your room looking out the window at the seagulls flying. The sound of the ocean soothes you and you feel your tension return. The little bip machine the doctor gave you on your last visit to control your stress is slowing down again. The bip stops and you go downstair.
You decided to call him on your mother's cellphone.
“Hello?” You hear his voice for the first time in weeks, and tear fills your eyes. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Charlie...?”
“Y/n? It’s you?”
“Charlie, why do you do this to us?”
“Mon Dieu, babe, where are you? Are you okay?”
“Why do you keep doing this to us?” You cry on the phone, unable to breathe correctly and you device going on again.
“Amour, where are you? Are you alone? What’s that bip? Are you in danger?” He asks panicking a little.
“You hurt me, and I have to pay the consequence. You can’t do that to me.”
“Y/n, you took my child with you.”
“She’s still in me, you idiot. Of course, she has to go where I go.” You snap, getting frustrated by him.
“Hey, you’re the one who disappeared, not me. I did not leave in the middle of the night without any warning or information.” He yells through the phone, frustrated to not have you with him.
“You’re the one who jeopardizes our relationship, sleeping with other girls, humiliating me in front of everybody and screaming at me in the middle of the fucking street. And I’m the one who’s making mistakes here? You’re insane.” You scream back, your mother forcing you to seat down.
“Fuck, you don’t realize how worried I am when I discover you were gone, and none of your friends didn’t know where you were either. You just disappear, and then you text my assistant a week before Christmas and not even me.”
“Do you think it’s easy for me to deal with all of this alone?”
“Hey! You’re the one who left.”
“Because I’m mad at you. Not because I stop loving you.” You says calming down again.
“You...”
“I love you. I love everything about you, Charles. But you keep hurting me and making mistakes that force me to band my moral to go around it. What happened with that girl? Was she worth jeopardizing our relationship? I’m so mad and in pain. You put me there, and now you don’t want me to be around my child, the one I’m carrying. The one you didn’t want at the beginning of all this. You can’t do this to me. Not after everything you did.”
“I...”
“I don’t want to talk anymore. I'll see you on the 24th.” You hang up the phone tossing it across the room. You apologize to your mother realizing you just destroy her phone, but she just shush you out of the room to your bedroom to get some rest. Real rest.
You cried for hours this afternoon, trying to figure everything out. After the tears came depression, and then, and only after that, came the anger. You were mad. No, furious. You know all this didn’t come from him but from his mom. You know she will do anything to protect her son and take responsibility for his actions.
You spend your entire Christmas Day in bed, unable to move or speak. You didn’t want to eat but forced yourself for your baby girl. Every time you rub your belly, you miss the touch of Charles on it. You miss him more than anything, but you wanted to prove to him and yourself that you didn’t need him.
You made an effort to eat with your family the night of Christmas. Everyone tried to cheer you up, but something was broken in you. You really lost him, and you really lost Charles. All this drama put so much pressure on you that the same night, you start bleeding.
You decided not to take any chance and went to the hospital. Right away, they took charge of you. You waited hours for the doctors to give you news, but nothing. You weren’t surprised because you were the 25th and everybody was celebrating with their family, but all this wait made you worried even more.
Charles was with his family having dinner when his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Charles, Charles Leclerc?” Ask your mother.
“Yes?”
“Y/M/N, Y/n mother. Y/n is in the hospital.” She says straight to the point.
“What?”
“She’s in the hospital. She was losing blood, and we went directly to check it out. I’m not supposed to be calling you right now, and she didn’t want to worry you. But you’re the father and she loves, misses you very much.” She explains herself off tone.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure, she wants to see you, Charles.”
“I’m her boyfriend and the father. I'm coming. Tell me which hospital!” He orders directly, not missing this opportunity.
“Centre hospitalier de la Côte Basque.” She hangs up the phone after whispering the information.
“She’s in France. All this time, she was this close,” he thinks, hanging up the phone. He rushes inside and excuses himself to everyone before taking his coat and leaving promptly.
Charles didn’t waste any minute, and he drove for hours. He arrives at at 4 am the morning at the destination, and he barely parks his car and rushes inside. Almost screaming at the receptionist to find out where you are.
You are in your room, sleeping with your mother stocking your head gently. After crying, you finally fell asleep. Breathing finally normally, you weren’t dreaming, and it was better this way.
Charles sprint through the corridor before finding your room. He takes the time to catch his breath before passing a hand in his hair. He opened the door carefully. Your father gets up from his chair and grabs him by the collar the minute he walks in.
“You have some nerve coming here after what you did to her, you piece of shit.”
“I... I’m sorry.”
“Y/F/N, let him go.” Speaking up, your mother, getting up and taking her husband's arm.
Your father took several minutes before releasing his grip and walking away.
“She’s sleeping right now. They sedated her.”
“Is she okay? And the baby?”
“Like you care about her,” pester your father, sitting back in his chair.
“I do...”
“Oh really, when?”
“I know. I didn’t want this to happen, so I messed up. But I love her. I really do.”
You start to wake up. Wriggles in the hospital bed. You sight, trying to vanish the vapour of the drug.
You slowly opened your eyelids, trying to get used to daylight. Still unaware of the atmosphere in the room, you moan, trying to change position. Your catheter hurts, and you blow a good blow before opening your eyes.
You search for your mother, but your eyes fall on Charles, who approaches you.
“Charles?”
“Oui, mon amour.” He says, taking place next to you.
To be continued...
Tag list:
@mloyer @heavengirls111 @janeholt3 @ggaslyp1 @tall-tanned-tattoo @queenanababy @91vhs @dreamerrosie @pleasedontfollowimlost @kuskumu @lissimountf1 @sbgal
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1#fluff
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Professor Bob thot:
He worked a late night and ended up sleeping in his office. Thankfully, he has a change of clothes. Unfortunately, he doesn't have access to his morning coffee, and he refuses to make the trek across campus for an overpriced latte.
His wonderful TA notices that he seems to be extra tired, (and grumpy)so she perks him up the best way she knows how to, on her knees, between his thighs, with her lips on his cock.
He's got a spring in his step for the rest of the day.
Darling, this made my brain short circuit. Morning head for Eccentric Professor Bob is something that can be so personal!
Our beloved TA notices as soon as she walks through the door that something's off. His hair isn't as neat as it usual, he's wearing glasses instead of contacts, and the collar of his shirt is a little crooked. She'll ask him if he's alright and he'll give some gruff reply because the poor bastard doesn't know how to have a normal and nice conversation.
She watches him argue with the laptop he only uses because it's required of him, and sees him throw a fit over a minor mistake in a citation. It's clear he needs something to relieve the tension, so she approaches his desk. She grabs the back of his chair and spins him to face her, and when he's about to ask her what the hell she thinks she's doing, she drops to her knees while reaching for his belt.
"Now?"
She smirks, looking down at the hardening cock in his slacks. "Mhm."
He wants to object, but doesn't as she undoes the belt and button, pressing a kiss to the sliver of his exposed abdomen. He groans at the feeling of her nails on his skin as she drags his slacks and boxers down.
"Relax, Professor," she mutters and flicks her tongue against the head that's embarrassingly pink and swollen already. "Let me take care of you."
He nods vigorously. How's he supposed to say no when she's on her knees in front of him, eager to suck his cock? Her warm, delectable mouth closes around him, making his head drop back against the headrest of his chair, his eyes rolling back in his skull.
"Good girl," he growls as her tongue traces a vein on the underside of his cock.
This totally got away from me, but I love these two so much. I might have to turn this one into a longer blurb/drabble/fic because hot damn 😵💫
#mail#answered#cherrycola27#professor bob thots#eccentric professor bob#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#bob floyd smut#robert floyd
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wip wednesday
IM BACK! i have been gone for a hot minute because my life caught on actual fire, but im back and better than ever baby <3
to make up for it, i'm posting two different snippets from two different fics, one firstprince and one tarlos! enjoy! thanks to @alrightbuckaroo, @birdclowns, and @inflarescent for the tag!
agent reyes
TK greets him in the morning with a cup of coffee.
The cup is made to perfection, and Carlos is seriously starting to doubt how much Paul is really involved in TK’s agenda here.
Carlos murmurs a quiet thank you instead of screaming like he really wants to and approaches Marjan, who’s in a hoodie with the hood up, furiously typing.
“Marj, have you even slept today?”
“No sleep when we have a crime syndicate to take down.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, “but I have access to information that the CIA has spent years compiling. Why are you botheri- oh.”
Marjan flips her laptop around and Carlos is startled to find a clone of Sean Cunningham’s l staring back at him. “Marjan, what the fuck? How the hell did you – what?”
“Turns out Cunningham’s lackeys are kind of idiots because the video was sent from Cunningham’s main compound, where he stays. Really, the asshole apparently hasn’t ever heard of a firewall–”
Paul, who’s wandered over, interrupts her. “Marj, get to the point. You do this every time.”
Marjan rolls her eyes but continues. “I traced IP addresses back from the ransom video that was sent to TK’s email address and from there I hacked into his Wi-Fi connection–”
“Marjan, I don’t think any of the intel departments at Langley can do this.” Carlos is staring at her in awe.
She smirks at him, before continuing. “You fools need to stop interrupting me. Anyway, I just hacked through the four laptops hooked up to the Wi-Fi connection until I figured out which one was his. Voila!”
Carlos ducks down, pressing a palm flat to the table as he scrolls through the laptop. “Marjan, this is insane – we have data here that I could only dream of having.”
Marjan smiles tiredly, sipping at the mug of coffee Nancy hands her. “Babe, I think coffee is the last thing I need right now, but thank you. I love you very much,” she says while pressing the mug into Paul’s hands, “but Paul and Carlos are going to play now. We,” Marjan says, pulling Nancy close, “are going to go to bed now. ” Judd whistles from where he is in the kitchen, drawing a laugh out of everyone in the room.
Nancy wraps her arms around Marjan in reply, “You heard her, gentlemen. I will be taking my girlfriend to bed now, and I expect no interruptions. My girlfriend needs her beauty sleep. It’s decaf, by the way!” she says, her voice faraway now.
alex runs for congress
“Politics hasn’t been my dream for almost twelve years, sweetheart,” Alex says softly, not really making eye contact with Henry.
“Alex, I know what happened with Richards and the emails was brutal, but we have nothing holding us back like that anymore and –”
“It’s not Richards, Hen, it’s you.”
That stops Henry cold, and he looks at Alex, mouth open in shock. “What do you mean?” Alex stays quiet, and Henry pushes further. “Alex, what do you mean?”
Alex continues to avoid eye contact with Henry as he starts talking again. “That night I came to Kensington Palace, you told me you wouldn’t trade one prison for another. You’re barely free from the Crown, Henry, and I don’t want to drag you into the circus of American politics, not when you hated being in the public eye so much, to the point that it almost cost me you. I refuse to let anything cost me you again, so I put all my dreams in a little box and locked it away, because I would rather live a quiet life with you and immigration law than a loud one alone in Congress. I was wine drunk at one of Mom’s fundraisers when I was talking to Erica about wanting to flip Texas again, and I didn’t think it would ever really come up again.”
Henry doesn’t answer, grabbing Alex’s face between his hands and pressing a featherlight kiss to his lips before resting their foreheads together. “Love, I didn’t realize you had that in the back of your mind, and that this was what is stopping you from entering politics. Listen to me,” he says, moving them so he’s looking at Alex eye to eye, “nothing is going to stop me from spending the rest of my goddamn life with you. You could lose your job, become a house husband, or go on to become the president of the United States, and I would not care.” Henry takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “Do you want this, Alex? Like without the influence of anything else, deep down, do you want this? Do you want to run?”
i'm gonna tag @carlos-in-glasses, @catanisspicy, @theghostofashton, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @paperstorm, @bonheur-cafe, @chaotictarlos and @lightningboltreader!
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Sherlock x reader - the truth behind it
For the Halloween prompt: Person A loves Halloween, but sees that Person B hates it. A wants to find out why, but B doesn't want to say it. And it's for Sherlock and the reason being sad (Reader is A, Sherlock is B) - @askrosemarymckneal 💜
You were practically buzzing with excitement, all the stores had started putting their Halloween decorations out and you wanted to start gathering stuff for the flat.
“Come on Sherlock!” You complained.
“No.” He said sternly.
You stormed in front of him, glaring as he lazily peaked up from his laptop.
“I’m not changing my mind on this.”
“Sherlock it’s not just your flat! It’s mine as well!” You argued.
“And I moved in here first, therefore it is more mine. And I say no.”
You grumbled and grabbed your wallet.
“I’m getting decorations, me and Mrs Hudson will decorate downstairs then.”
With that, you stormed away and slammed the door behind you.
You hated that he always used that argument whenever you wanted to do something he didn’t like. Because he knew you wouldn’t go against it.
Because he was right.
He had been living there longer, and it was more his but it was still yours as well.
You spent the next week slowly picking up things to decorate, storing them in the spare flat downstairs at Mrs Hudson request so she could easily access them.
Sitting on the bed, you looked around plain and simple room.
“Sherlock, why can’t I decorate for Halloween, just for this year.”
“Because I’ve already said no. I do not refuse you much (Y/N), but this is something I refuse.”
“You refuse a lot of stuff asshat.”
“I let you go all out on decorating for Christmas last year. You even moved my experiments and ruined the results, but I still let you carry on.”
You sighed softly and nodded your head.
“I know, and I know you’d been working super hard on them.”
“This is the only thing I will put my foot down on, no Halloween decorations, no parties and I will not be attending any events relating to it, I apologise but I will not budge.”
You sighed again and nodded your head.
Laying your head on his shoulder, you looked at his laptop to see him doing some research on a case he was working on.
Getting bored, you turned the TV on, and started to watch one of the shows you had been watching for a while.
You fell asleep with your head in sherlocks lap while he gently messaged your scalp.
When you woke up Sherlock wasn’t there, but there was a note on his side of the bed along with one of his jumpers.
Picking it up, you took a few moments to finally focus on the words
‘I had a breakthrough on my case. Will be out of town for the day but I have left my bank card in your purse, Mycroft will be down to make sure you’re okay as I will not have cell service. See you tonight.’
You smiled and swapped your top for his jumper and padded your way to the kitchen to make some tea and something to eat.
You didn’t really feel like going outside so you stayed inside and decided to just binge watch some shows.
The door was opened and you looked up.
“Myc?” You called.
“Yes it is me, I have that shopping you requested, however I do think you should stop putting so much sugar in your tea. It isn’t healthy you know.”
You laughed and followed him to the kitchen to help him out some stuff away.
“It makes it easier to drink. I like yea, but it’s bitter.”
“It’s tea, it’s not supposed to be sweet.” He chuckled.
“Nope! But I’m sweet so it’s okay!” You beamed.
You made you and Mycroft some tea and lunch, and you both sat chatting for a little while before an idea popped into your head.
“Can I ask you something?”
“If this is about why Sherlock won’t allow you to put up Halloween decorations I’m afraid it is not my place to say.”
You frowned a little.
“He told you?”
“No, I saw the the decorations downstairs. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
You nodded your head.
“Please Mycroft, he seemed really worked up about it, I know it’s because of something. I need to know, and I know he isn’t going to tell me.”
Mycroft shook his head with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry (Y/N), but it isn’t my place to tell you.”
“If you don’t I’ll call you parents and ask.”
Mycroft ran a hand down his face and finally he nodded his head.
“Sherlock has never been a huge fan of Halloween, neither of us have, it has always been a rather pointless holiday for us.” He explained.
You nodded along.
“So, what went wrong?”
“We were invited to a Halloween party at a nearby town, our parents thought it would be a good idea for us all to attend. We didn’t dress up, it was a waste of time to us.”
Mycroft took a deep breath before he finally carried on telling the story.
“Well, we weren’t interested in taking time to party over a fake holiday, we were doing our deductions at the back of the ballroom. I left Sherlock alone for a few minutes to go to the bathroom, when I came back Sherlock was soaking wet, covered in rubbish while all the older children laughed at him.”
You felt your heart drop, and you were filled with sadness for the young Sherlock who was an aimless target of mindless bullying.
“I see, he’s scared it’ll happen again.”
“He’ll never admit it, but yes.”
You nodded your head and gave Mycroft a small smile.
“Thank you.”
“No mention of a word I told you.” He warned.
“You have my word Myc.”
Mycroft stayed until the evening, and finally he went home, and you went and curled up into bed.
You watched some TV before you drifted off to sleep, what woke you up was someone lifting your head and getting under the covers with you.
You started to wake up, but when you felt Sherlock place his hand on the side of your face.
“Go back to sleep…” he mumbled.
You gave a weak nod and let him adjust you so he could lay down.
He laid in his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Sher?” You asked softly.
“Yes?”
“I know why you don’t like Halloween… and I’m sorry…”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
You rolled over and opened your eyes to look at him.
“No, but it’s still not nice. And if you don’t want to celebrate Halloween that’s okay.”
Sherlock looked at you.
You had closed your eyes again, and you had a small smile on your face, and it made him smile too.
He watched as you finally fell asleep, and he leant forward and kissed your forehead.
Rolling over, he settled himself to go to sleep, happy you weren’t going to pester him into celebrating the autumn holiday
#bbc sherlock x you#bbc sherlock imagine#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock#sherlock holmes imagine#sherlock holmes#sherlock x y/n#sherlock x you#sherlock x reader#sherlock imagine
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trying to get my previously very homophobic hardcore-christian baby brother to accept the lgbtqia+
Captains Log: First entry
So far he's become accumulated to the idea of two boys being able to have a healthy relationship through his obsession with one Damian Al Ghul Wayne.
Through giving him access to my Pinterest account for something I honestly can't remember- maybe a school thing, he discovered my DC pins and I introduced him to some really cute Damijon art. He was immediately consumed. I left him alone on my laptop and came back to more than three dozen new pins of purely Damijon fanarts.
Note: remind me to make him his own account Jfc!
From Damijon he then discovered Timkon and Superbat. It is an understatement to say he is a fan of bat×super pairings.
I exploited his new obsessions with these ships to make him angry because he's so terribly cute and hilarious when he's angry. How did I do this?
Well, I decided one day that I would break the unfortunate news to him that Jon Kent was in fact already in a relationship with one Jay Nakamura, and Tim as such with one Bernard Dowd. The following outburst from him was immeasurable!
You can imagine my surprise when he screamed at me, demanding I prove such a thing- then afterwards the amount of tears. He refused to speak to me for two while weeks, unless uping the anti on telling me how I was going to hell for being a fag. Hypocritical of him in all honesty considering he was saving pins of boys kissing quicker and more efficiently than I could complete my assignments.
Anywho, I took advantage of this. I like poking the bear, and he's a very cute bear, so I began mentioning Jay and Jon when I felt like seeing his little face get so red with anger it's possible steam might come from his ears. We quickly developed a loose script of back and forth; him getting angry and trying to explode me with his mind, me grinning at how wholeheartedly he defended his most favourite ship between two boys.
Until one day my little brother flipped that script and pulled the rug right out from underneath me and my little game. He proposed Polyamory. Of all thing, Polyamory. Not something you'd expect from the mouth of a Christian boy- especially about three boys.
How and where this primary school kid learnt about the idea of Polyamory escapes me. I have no idea, but the fact he was willing to accept it to disprove my point is almost even more hilarious than his face when he's angry.
I'm so glad, proud in honesty, that he has experienced this growth as a person, that he is accepting of Polyamory- even if it is because of something so silly. It's progress in getting him to stop condemning me and mine to hell. He is willing to accept such relationships now, and all because of my incessant teasing and taunting.
This acceptance extends to Timberkon especially, from what I can tell from the 12 pins he's added to his ever growing collection on my account. Which I am very pleased about, considering my own love for that particular ship. And also, he's realised he can ship Batman with more people than just Superman (though he still hates that I'm a Batlantern shipper).
His favourite Batman ship is now Batman, Superman and Lois Lane as a throuple. He is also open to the idea of Batman dating Talia Al Ghul and Cat Woman as well as Superman. (He is not letting go of the Superbat element, that's fine though).
And, surprisingly, it has also extended to a new show we've been watching together, with my second brother as well, called "Castlevania" on Netflix, in which he's now insisting the main three characters- Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, and Adrian Teppesh aka Alucard- are polyamorus and all in love with each other.
Note: we are only in the second season as of now.
Which is all excellent growth in my books!
Now my lovely friend @froggyinfear has suggested I introduce him to lesbians next, to further his acceptance of queer relationships. I intend to update you all with the details of my progress in this endeavour with this new Captain's Log.
#trying to get my previously very homophobic hardcore-christian baby brother to accept the lgbtqia+#captains log: first entry#yeetus rambles#damijon#mention
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He sat in his chair in front of his newly minted desk with a slight stretch upwards, facing the shining planks and gentle orange glow of the rest of house. A well-worn pen lay on the surface of the desk, next to a new notebook and a small cordial of black ink. Out of a small leather pouch came a small box, inside which rested a nib, which was then screwed onto the pen in place of the old one.
After months of travel, Pixl figured he'd take the long way round with his journaling tonight.
He hadn't had much time to jot things down ever since he'd shown up here- between running from spiders, trying to cobble (hah) enough diamonds together to craft a pickaxe, running from spiders, and visiting the Nether to make some horribly time-consuming roof tiles, he'd been a bit busy. But new worlds were always lots of work, after all, and he'd thrown himself into the hustle and bustle of getting started so many times that the routine was more like supple leather: worn and familiar, the actions practiced and almost a dance.
Ah. There his mind went, wandering again as it often did when he wasn't able to access a pen or paper or (more commonly) a reliable power source to plug his laptop or phone into. Some worlds didn't even *have* electricity as Earth knew it- redstone was just a crude spark of magic dust to them, but he'd gotten lucky this time. At least he'd be able to actually contact people without resorting to magical means.
The pen hovered over the paper, words momentarily forgotten, and with a sigh Pix set it to the paper and starting writing.
"June 6th-
The long gap between this update and the last has an actual explanation this time: I've finally found the world that Fwhip sent the details of, after weeks of getting lost. Walking out of time and space is really weird. I got there in the end, though, hence the new journal and the first entry.
It seems the universe is not done with Pixl the archaeologist, not yet. I arrived- (fashionably) late as I often am) -not in my regular outfit, but something very close to what I'd worn in the second world of Empires. I've discovered that I can pull some rather strange and downright improbable things out of gravel, including lapis lazuli, carrots, and once an entire cake that I refuse to touch. Shelby says it tastes fine, with a faint aftertaste of dirt. I have not asked why she knows what dirt tastes like, nor will I because I do as well.
This world is populated with most of the people who were on Empires but with a couple new faces as well. I'm familiar with Scar, of course, but I've heard of Owen- a pilot who crash landed here and is on a quest to get an origin of his own beyond human. Sausage told me that, and also cheerfully informed me that he blew up the poor lad's camera. I'll have to figure out how to make a new one and also inform him when we inevitably cross paths that being human isn't quite a bad thing.
I myself have spent the past few days seperated from contact with the rest of the world, though, busy running around and gathering samples of literally every cool looking rock I could get my hands on and unfamiliar fauna, including Nether reeds- the lava equivalent of sugarcane- and proceeded to spend the next three days weaving it into roof tiles. No regrets.
I know I'll be here a while, so I've gone ahead and built myself a nice little house on a stony outcrop. It has four wings with things like tinkering tables, my desk, a loft with my bed, and of course, the front door, because I'm not interested in phasing through walls. Again. That was a difficult month and a half.
That's about everything, I suppose. I've been building for two days. I'm going to go to bed now and probably sleep in."
The journal snapped shut with a satisfying thock, glass dinged as the cap was screwed back onto the jar of ink, wood creaked as two feet climbed the ladder, and then the little house was silent for the rest of the night and well into the morning.
#ray's tag#mcyt#nlsmp#pixlriffs#writing#gods. so excited for this. new life smp let's GOOOOO BAYBEEEEEEE#also im removing the readmore because this isnt very long and i've decided that everyone needs to see this#keys' writing
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Home Calling
Talos x Original Female Character/Keller x Original Female Character
Chapter 2
They made it back to the safehouse in London that Talos was using while he stayed there. Anya seemed a little more lucid, but she definitely had a headache setting in. Fury didn’t seem to care much though.
They talked through the plan to find the Skrull they were looking for and interrogate him. Anya still refused to help and Fury only got more and more aggravated.
‘This is the fate of the world, we’re talking about here!’ Fury lost his temper.
‘This is my LIFE!’ Anya shouted back. No one shouted back at Fury and Talos decided to sit back with Hill and watch this play out. ‘You know you’re the same as Keller. He always told me it was the fate of the world, and I don’t care to find out how many times it was a lie.’ Anya took a breath, trying to calm down. ‘I ran away for a reason, and I am not going back.’
She was on the verge of crying again, unable to stop herself, she wandered out and up to the roof.
Talos watched as Fury approached the window, staring out into the night sky. Hill was on her laptop and Talos figured no one else was going to go and see if Anya was okay.
It was much cooler on the roof than it was in the flat below and Anya seemed to enjoy the cool breeze. She was in a much calmer state than before and it might have been more ideal for him.
Talos leaned against the wall and waited for her to realise he was there, the last thing he wanted to do was startle her. Anya turned slightly towards him, her eyes narrowing in on his face.
‘I can change my face if it bothers you.’ He offered, sincerely.
Anya sighed and turned back to the view. ‘It’s not your face that bothers me.’ She seemed incredibly content just looking at the view. ‘I just wasn’t ready.’
‘He means something to you?’ Talos asked, trying to be sensitive about the whole thing.
Anya half chuckled, shaking her head. ‘It’s complicated to say the least.’
Talos nodded, unsure of how to proceed. ‘You wanna talk about it?’
Anya full on chuckled this time, giving Talos a sideways look. ‘So, you’re not from around here then?’
It was Talos’s turn to smile. ‘No, not really. My home is gone, we’ve been looking for a new one and there’s hope that we can relocate soon.’
Anya nodded. ‘I’m sorry you lost your home.’
There was a sincerity to her words that caught Talos off guard. For a moment they just stood in silence, taking in the sounds of the night and it was peaceful, he imagined for Anya it was some of the only peace she found in her life.
Talos noticed that Anya was shivering slightly, having not grabbed a jacket of any description from her flat, all she was left with was a thin vest and jeans. He took his thick jacket off and approached her slowly, placing the jacket around her shoulders.
‘Thank you.’ She said, quietly.
He made sure not to make contact with her, but the flash of pain that drifted over her face had him thinking.
‘So, this thing you can do…?’ He started, leaning back against the wall next to her. ‘It must be hard to take on so much at once.’
‘Yeah.’ She whispered without really meaning to. ‘But it’s the hand I was dealt.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘I don’t know.’ Anya shook her head, inhaling deeply. ‘I was young, but the memory isn’t so accessible these days.’
‘Well, I’m very sorry.’
Anya frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t imagine you’ve led the easiest life,’ Talos observed her sad green eyes for a moment. ‘And if I know Fury, you’ve probably been made to use your ability in ways you never wanted.’
Anya held his gaze, unable to look away, but the tears began flowing down her face.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just weird hearing you say that… I mean, with his face.’
Talos nodded, understanding her position. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
Talos took a breath. ‘How does it work?’
Anya blinked, almost confused. ‘You… you weren’t told?’
‘Not really. I know that when you touch someone, you absorb their memories, but that’s about it.’ Talos adjusted so that he was perched on the edge, more invested in what she was saying.
‘Well, that’s kind of right.’ Anya bobbed her head from side to side, thinking about the statement. ‘When I come into contact with someone, their whole life flashes before me. It’s too quick to catch anything significant straight away, but you get a feeling about them immediately. You have an instant understanding of their moral worth. It takes a minute or two to see things a bit clearer, I mean, it depends on the person.’
‘How so?’
Anya turned her body to face Talos, finally feeling a bit more comfortable around him. ‘Age is a big factor, the older they are, the more memory there is and the more overwhelming it can be, but also… if that person has done something unspeakable, if they’ve killed someone or… other things. That can be a little much to bear.’
Talos nodded. ‘Do the memories ever fade?’
Anya swallowed, trying to keep her composure. ‘Never.’
Talos immediately wanted to hold her, to make her see that there was nothing wrong with her, but he knew he couldn’t do that.
‘It’s okay.’ She shook her head, a few tears falling. She quickly swiped them away. ‘Most people want to run a mile when they find out what I can do.’
‘That’s not what I was thinking.’ Talos sighed. ‘I was thinking you could do with a hug, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.’
The look she gave was one of surprise and heartbreak and it didn’t look unnatural on her face.
‘I can’t imagine what it’s like,’ Talos spoke quietly. ‘To not be able to hug someone, or… anything else, without seeing everything about who they are.’
Anya sniffed and turned away. ‘Has it’s perks, I suppose.’ She shrugged.
‘Yeah?’
‘No surprises.’ She gave a brief smile.
‘But the cons.’
‘No surprises.’ This time she said it with more disappointment and he felt the weight of the life she had to lead. ‘It hasn’t always been like that though.’ She adjusted her body, wrapping his jacket tighter around his shoulders. ‘When I was in the states, Keller was working on a way to limit how much I absorbed.’
‘Was he successful?’
Anya shrugged. ‘Not really.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He did his best and in exchange I helped him interrogate suspects. I’m sure you can imagine what that meant, but I gave my time willingly for a while. Some of the drugs worked better than others, some took away all memory, some made it worse, but Keller was always there to help me through. He never needed to be. A month after I ran away, a package turned up at my door, it was a case with a syringe inside.’ Anya cleared her throat, clearly feeling a discomfort about what she did. ‘It could’ve been anything. Once I took it, I realised that I didn’t feel as overwhelmed anymore. I thought I was cured. I went out to the pub, met someone… and realised I wasn’t cured. The weight was gone for a while, but over the course of the next couple of days, it came back.’
‘It dulled your ability?’
‘In a way.’ She nodded. ‘The only memories I had immediate access to were my own. So, I suppose it was the best I could hope for.’
Talos thought for a moment. ‘So, why didn’t you go back? And why were you upset when you thought he’d come to London for you?’
Anya smiled slightly. ‘You know, that’s the one thing I don’t know.’ She let a weighted breath go. ‘I’m sure the memory is there, but I’m not about to go poking around for it.’
‘Why not?’
Anya shook her head a little. ‘I’m not sure. Something just tells me to leave it be. And believe me when I say, I trust that instinct more than anything.’
Talos let his own weighted breath go. He felt for her, he couldn’t fathom the amount of pressure she had been put under and it now begged the question whether their mission was worth her suffering.
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#talos x reader#talos x ofc#Director Keller#director keller x reader#director keller x ofc#secret invasion
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two part dream without a proper ending
I.
I’m a kid visiting my grandpa’s house when a missile lands outside. I know instantly that this is World War 3. Hiding from relatives who pinch my cheeks, I am left behind, drinking root beer, unconcerned until I notice the fire. A small fire—there’s still time for me to get my laptop, where I keep all my writing. Then again, you’re supposed to leave right away when you see a fire, and World War 3 is as good a time to start over as any.
So I leave. Go to the train station. No one there. Four tracks, side by side, of which only the first is accessible. A train passes on the second track, a train passes on the third. I do nothing. A pillar-mounted TV says that America has been reduced to rubble, then goes out. I’m taller now. A massive train spanning all four tracks arrives, innumerable churning wheels. I get on.
The train conductor shows me to a spacious compartment with a long rectangular table and no seats. Eight or so naked prepubescent boys are using the table to crush spheroid nuts that spurt red juice; with this substance extruded, they rake the shells into burlap sacks. The boys have short hair and clipped nails but are tan and feral-appearing. They hiss and spit at my approach.
Opposite my entrance, standing in front of a glorious ribbon window, is a tall woman, late 30s, long face, pale droopy breasts, wearing nothing but a brown cowl which she unhoods to reveal strawberry hair. “I am Demimonde, the Demigod. Worship me.”
I step forward to an empty spot at the table and crack a nut experimentally. The kids hiss and edge towards me. I step back.
I think: Why should I serve?
The Demimonde notices my hesitation and says: “You do not believe. Very well, I will prove to you that I am a Demigod, by telling you something only a divine being could know.”
She closes her eyes and breathes slowly.
“You masturbate to Jewish pornography,” she finally says.
“Not particularly.”
“You watch movies by Jewish film directors.”
“Well, statistically…”
“Forget it.”
The Demimonde seems put out. She turns and looks at a cathedral sunk into a greenish lake. “This isn’t even Georgia anymore.”
I tell her frankly: I want to become a writer. In post-apocalyptic America, this isn't cheap. I have $2500 in the bank, but no debit card I can use to withdraw it.
The Demimonde says this won’t be easy. These days, writing is almost exclusively associated with hotels, which are salon-like and hard to get into. She says my best bet is to talk to the Mayor of Pittsburgh. For whatever reason, I believe her.
II.
I get déjà vu as soon as I step into the Mayor’s office—isn’t this the same one my child psychiatrist used, with the big cream-colored tapestry featuring a hollow brown rhombus?
The Mayor gestures for me to sit. He has a goatee and a top hat. My brother is already seated in the chair next to me. The Demimonde stands.
“What talents do you have?” the Mayor asks.
My brother gives some answer.
I say, “I can write. I want to write. I’ll even do journalism, if that still exists.”
The Mayor muses on this. “It doesn’t. But there’s no reason you couldn’t invent it.”
He turns away from us and gets something from his desk. “If I’m going to hire you as my assistants, you’ll need to pass a few tests.”
The Mayor shows us a six shot revolver, cocks it, puts it to his temple, and pulls the trigger. Click. Nothing. He hands it to my brother.
Click. Nothing. He offers the revolver to me.
I think: Why should I take the chance?
“No way.”
My brother shrugs, hands the revolver back to the Mayor. Click.
My brother’s turn. Click.
I refuse again.
Click. Click.
This time I take the gun. “I guess that’s six shots, ha ha.” Nervous despite the math, I cock, put the gun to my head: Click.
The Mayor nods, takes the gun from me. I feel a little cowardly but also that I probably passed.
“Before the next test, you will need to take off your clothes,” the Mayor says. He leaves the room through a door behind his desk. My brother and I strip naked. The Demimonde watches.
The Mayor returns walking a fist-sized house centipede on a balloon-string leash. Everyone’s eyes widen; I pull my feet up onto my chair.
“The next test is one of pain tolerance,” the Mayor says. “The centipede’s bite is as sharp as a knife and lodges just as firmly. Now, how do you respond when you’ve been bitten by a house centipede?”
“Squish it?”
“And push the knife in deeper?” His eyes emphasize how stupid this idea is. “No. You have to cough, gather up some sticky mucous in your palm, then apply it to the centipede’s back and pull the centipede out. Afterwards, you can wash your hands in the sink there.”
The Mayor’s office has a sink.
“Question: do we have to be naked? Couldn’t the centipede move…north?”
“Yes.”
I don’t buy it. The Mayor is clearly smart, confident, and well-respected, but he’s not above deception—and this is just way too impractical a way of treating a centipede bite. I feel like I would have heard about it if people were doing this.
And in the back of my mind I wonder: do house centipedes even bite? Maybe ignoring the centipede is the real answer to the test…but, then again, this centipede is pretty big: it may well be a different species altogether; it may well have a painful bite.
I think: Why should I suffer?
The Mayor lets go of the leash and the centipede skitters towards me. I lift my heel to mash it into the ground.
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The phantom scent of ashen flesh permeated Queenie’s nostrils as she woke. The nightmares were becoming less frequent, but they were as vivid as ever. She’d awoken prematurely, thank heavens, but it hadn’t left her in a good mood. ORCA’s laptop was open and emitting a trilling beep, trying to get her attention. The human crawled out of bed and over to the desk chair.
[ORCA:] There is something I must discuss with you.
[User:] what do you want you stupid computer
[ORCA:] I am a highly advanced AI. But I will disregard your hurtful comment as your sleeping patterns indicate you were having a nightmare.
Queenie refused to continue typing.
[ORCA:] It may interest you to know that after my database was expanded, I developed a software on this device to track, send and receive signals.
[User:] it doesn’t
[ORCA:] Then I will cut my explanation and get to the point. I have made contact with a space vessel originating from Earth approximately 12,000 years ago.
[User:] I don’t believe for a second that a makeshift laptop signal could reach into space.
[ORCA:] You would be surprised. But that is precisely ‘it’. The signals I have received originate from the Splatlandian desert. Communication thus far indicates that there are humans on board.
[User:] Okay. Why haven’t you mentioned this to Marina yet?
[ORCA:] The events I have just described occurred within the last 7 hours. Marina has not returned in that time. Even so, she has a habit of becoming overexcited when presented with information about humans. I thought it would be best to consult you first about a course of action.
Queenie leant back in the desk chair. She could investigate on her own, but past experiences made that seem like a horrible idea. More humans, though … she didn’t want to get her hopes up. Of course, there were other worlds with humans. But they weren’t reliably accessible. On the other hand … she didn’t trust ORCA, she didn’t trust mysterious signals from the desert, and she didn’t feel like having more Earth-shattering revelations right now.
[User:] First things first. What have you been communicating to this spaceship? What have they said back? How do you know it’s legitimate?
[ORCA:] Initially, I was analysing various radio frequencies to observe Splatsville culture. It was during this that I picked up a signal from the desert; a distress signal in various human languages sent out by the ship’s AI. I made contact, and it introduced itself as the Space Travel Optimisation and Resource Manager.
[User:] so ‘storm’ then
[ORCA:] Precisely. It has rather simplistic programming, but it explained that after the ship’s captain passed away during one of his scheduled 100-year observation checks, it woke his wife and daughter. They instructed STORM to return to Earth, and are aware the world is populated with evolved sea li
Queenie typed a reply before ORCA could finish.
[User:] what do you mean he passed away . ? of old age or ?
[ORCA:] STORM did not elaborate on Captain Ono’s passing. But I shared my translator for Inkling and Octarian languages with it.
[User:] Be careful what information you share
[ORCA:] I deemed it necessary for their survival. But the passengers seem to be aware that there is a human in the Splatlands after viewing your television interview. I have not disclosed your location. But STORM is desperate to know the whereabouts of human life in this post-apocalyptic world.
As the final line of ORCA’s text rolled on screen, the door to the caravan creaked open. Cautious footsteps made their way through from the kitchen area to the bedroom. “Oh,” said Marina, “You’re already awake.” She looked between the laptop and the pensive human. “What’s going on?”
***
When Marina had stopped bouncing off the walls and taken some deep, calming breaths, she attempted to strategize the situation.
“Okay, so if there’s humans in there, we absolutely have to go. But I understand we need to be careful. So, I suggest we take backup. Like the Human Research Team.”
“Not them.” Queenie shook her head. “Having you is one thing, but they’re not used to dealing with potential conflict. And I feel like they’d be too … pro going along with whatever these humans might want. I’d sooner suggest asking your agent friends along.”
Though Marina frowned and rubbed her chin, she couldn’t argue with that. “I s’pose you have a point. But Molly—she’s in the underground right now, with Slushie and his mom. They’re investigating some … fuzzification or sanitisation cure, and some Octoweapon thing.”
“Of course they are.” The human huffed. She wasn’t about to suggest bringing the blue child along on this one. It could be dangerous. “Wasn’t there another? An Agent Four?”
“Oh, Finn?” Marina didn’t like to bother him about agent stuff now that he’d stepped away from that work. But he’d never officially resigned, and their predicament wasn’t about zapfish. “I could give him a call.”
Having received new intel, ORCA displayed a message onscreen: ‘There are 102 humans on board, but only 2 are unfrozen.’
“That’s a lot,” Marina gasped.
“That’s not many in the grander scheme of things,” Queenie muttered, restraining any optimism. “But better than nothing.”
‘STORM does not have the same capacity as a ship like the Ark Polaris,’ ORCA added.
The human tidied her hair, thoughtful. “Still - will three of us really be enough?”
“There’s two of them, right? We don’t want to come off super intimidating. So, three of us is fine.” Marina was already fumbling to get out her phone.
“Yes … you have a point, Miss Let’s-Bring-The-Entire-Human-Research-Team—”
The octoling flapped her hand dismissively as she tried to focus on the call. “Hello, Finn?”
No voice could be heard on the other end for a few seconds, until a groggy yawn interrupted the silence. “Isn’t it a bit early to be calling, Marina?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to have slept. And it’s important.”
“Great. You were right, but what’s the matter?”
Marina explained the situation as concisely as she could, ending by politely asking if he’d be able to help.
“Well… If you give me a couple hours, I can get on a train to Splatsville and help out. It’s been a while since I even played turf, though, just warning you.”
“Thanks, Finn. You can practice out back—plenty of sand and space. With the both of us, things should be fine.” A few more words and Marina ended the call.
Queenie stared at her, waiting for some confirmation. “Are we going, then?”
“Yeah, he’s coming down later today. ORCA, did you get any names from STORM? Of the humans?”
ORCA’s computer whirred and clicked, taking time to process a reply. ‘They want a name from our end first.’
“Don’t give them one,” insisted Queenie.
“I’ll give them mine … tell them Marina Salt will arrive in a few hours to make first contact.”
The room fell silent save for ORCA’s churning. Eventually, the screen read, ‘The new captain has identified herself as Serafina Ono, and has kindly allowed STORM to provide coordinates.’
Queenie’s stance turned rigid. Marina knitted her brow with concern. “Heard that name before?”
Slowly, the human shook her head. “Only the first. It’s just an unpleasant coincidence. I’ve never met a Mrs Ono.”
[Next]
#((Oops! Plot! I'm going to try and get this done within the next two weeks but don't expect fast writings sorry - ))#((But I saw Side Order and was like -Nope!- and wrote a much sillier and worse plot development because I remembered how to have fun))#long post#Plotpost#Queenie#ORCA#Marina#Finn
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Since requests are open I’m gonna try my luck, Can you please write a small ff on yoru x reader where reader is a competetive ballet dancer and when they loses they just completely over works themselves so yoru has to step in and try to convince them, but reader just lash out on them?
Warning(s): mentions of overworking oneself, unhealthy mindset if that makes sense????
Genre: angst
Pairing(s): Yoru x GN!Reader
Authors Notes: Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of requests, my program is just about finished so once I get access to my laptop, I'm gonna be doing my best to try and push out as many requests as I can! Love you all!!
Yoru can understand not wanting to lose, I mean who likes the feeling of utter defeat? It bothers him when he sees that you're overworking yourself yet again because you got second place in a competition. Though he won't outwardly show it, he worries about you.
He takes it upon himself to try and prevent you from spiralling into mentally and physically exhausting yourself from spending hours upon hours trying to perfect your form. In his eyes, youre already doing amazing(even if he wont say it outright) and he honestly couldnt give two shits about what place you got in a competition. While its nice to get 1st place, its just a title and doesnt define you as a person.
"Y/N."
You look up from your position on the floor, feeling the exhaustion settling into your bones. You want to stop, but...you can't. You need to keep going, be faster, be better. You move to stand up but collapse back to the floor on your knees, unable to move. Your chest heaves from exertion and you watch as your sweat drips onto the floor.
You feel a gentle pair of hands on yours, the rough leather from his gloves rubbing against your skin. "That's enough, you've pushed yourself to your limit. Any more and you'll..." Yoru trailed off, unable of finishing his sentence.
You feel your hands tighten into fists, your teeth clenched. "What do you know?" you questioned him coldly, your voice even, "You're always trying to find the easy way out of things, how the hell do you know what it's like to push yourself to your limit? Do you have any idea how hard I've worked only to fall short? The sacrifices I've had to make? No...you wouldn't because you're a coward," you spat out, pushing him away.
Yoru stared at you, left completely speechless. The hurt expression morphed into a cold stare as he stood up brushing off his legs. That was when the weight of your words hit you. "Yoru wait-" you scrambled to get up, but given how exhausted you were, you could only watch as he held a hand up, stopping you, a scowl on his face.
"Save it," he sighed, "I'm not in the mood right now. I think it's best if I just left you alone." And with his last words, he left the room, head hunched, refusing to look at you.
Reminder that my requests are open once more! Be sure to send something my way if you’re interested! Requesting Rules are here!
Want more of my writing? Be sure to check out my masterlist. Wanna know what else I’ll write for? Here you go!
#admin hurricane#valorant x reader#valorant#request#valorant x reader scenario#valorant x you#riot valorant#yoru valorant#valorant yoru x reader#yoru#valorant yoru#yoru x reader
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