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Canada Super Visa: Parents Of Immigrants Can Stay Up To 5 Years Per Visit ~ CIC News 2025
Canada continues to support family reunification through its Super Visa program, offering parents and grandparents of Canadian citizens or permanent residents the opportunity to stay for up to five years per visit, with multiple entries valid over ten years. This long-term visitor visa provides a flexible alternative for families separated by distance.
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What are the services associated with PR Card Renewal?
To enter Canada by any commercial carrier, including a bus, train, airplane, or boat, a Permanent Resident of Canada must possess a valid PR card; if not, you will not be permitted to board the vehicle. You can enter Canada without a valid PR card by private plane at an airport or by private car across the land border. This is not advised, though, as you may run into issues at Canadian customs if you enter the country again without a valid PR card for PR Card Renewal in Scarborough .

#PR Card Renewal in Scarborough#Best PR Card Renewal in Scarborough#Canadian Designated Learning Institutions#Visitor Visa Refusal#Spouse Open Work Permit Refusal#Immigration consultants in Scarborough#Best Immigration Consultants in Scarborough#Bridging Open Work Permit
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felix knightly, julian's much-mentioned friend felix, comes to the station, and he's this dashing and effete and supremely successful older human man. he wears excellent fabrics and dedicates his life to constructing beautiful fictions.
he calls julian darling and sweetheart all the time. he speaks often of how they met - something about old hardcover books and competitive bidding in a san francisco auction house for history and literature lovers.
so it went: a long chat that turned to a long night haunting bars, showing this bright young thing the best old spots in the city, where real bands play real songs, history clings to the walls and a holoprogrammer could see nearly into the past, the future, the heart of things.
we walked the bridge with dawn on our shoulders, spent the night without losing reasons to keep talking together, and i knew this was a very special young man i had just befriended, he says.
and julian bashir, chief medical officer, war-tried and brave, looks at him through his lashes, a little bit twenty and awe-struck at being liked still.
felix speaks often about how so much of the reliable realism in his holonovels depends on having his own clever doctor to give him accurate medical information. how his gifts of custom-made programs are nothing, barely anything in comparison to the pleasure of making sweet julian enjoy himself in his intervals between wonderful adventures and admirable medical work.
he is flighty and shameless and self-satisfied and he never fails to make julian flush and brighten - something flickering open around his eyes.
he kisses the back of his hands, and plays with his hair. as if it easy and natural; as if he should be allowed always to lay a hand on julian's shoulder, and smile down at him with a conspiratorial look.
it would be easier, perhaps, if it were more sordid. but they tease each other endlessly, argue like old friends, there is history between them and not only old infatuation.
to watch him is to see an image repeated. there is the twist of the wrist doctor bashir does, the way he raises his chin and picks a glass with elegance and flirts relentlessly, as he himself had been flirted with until he relented.
it is clear enough that knightly has been a guiding figure to him, a teacher in some fashion in the arts of playing the gentleman.
a mildly chiding word from him in a specific tone, and julian straightens his back and pays attentions, rethinks his position, eases back the strain in his shoulders, lets himself be challenged, seduced into a proper debate. so perhaps he was the one who taught him that, too; to argue without spite, with wit, brash but not bull-headed.
it is clear enough julian bashir trusts him fully with his fantasies, and does not fear any mockery.
it is clear he is a weak man, a man of vice, an hedonist with no sense of responsibility, who cannot stand to live outside his programs. he drinks prodigiously and gambles recklessly, enjoys the sort of mind-whirling substances the federation permits only in careful dosages -
he is not the one to mention how it was that a medical student came to be well-versed in treating withdrawals, in dealing with hateful words said in dire states. doctor bashir himself, of course, would never breach patient confidentiality. but one may guess; one may assume.
his presence is temporary, he will go away to do research on another singular and distant place, he'll leave his friend behind for the hundredth time and send back a consolation game whenever he remembers he exists at all.
anyone can see it, in the doctor's eyes. he is has been wounded many times, he has been trained well to be expect to be liked but not wanted long.
in unrelated news, garak of garak's clothiers has had to cite complications to explain the delay of his present and forthcoming commissions. several of his needles and sewing machines have taken unexpected tumbles against the floor, and a remarkable amount of his fabric has appeared shredded to rags, almost as if a vole or beast of some sort had laid furious claws on them.
well, so it goes: life is not an holonovel. in real life, sometimes accidents can't be avoided, and mistakes have consequences.
someone ought to remind felix knightly of that, perhaps.
#ficlet#ds9#deep space nine#felix knigthly#julian bashir#elim garak#garashir#star trek ds9#star trek#star trek fanfiction#ds9 fic#julian x garak
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bark like you want it !
ft. ryomen sukuna x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, pet play, true form sukuna, sexual slavery(?) sukuna has a harem p much, degradation, oral(m!recieving), double penetration, p in v, anal, creampie, objectification, size difference, biting, barking, almost soft sukuna for a second, sukuna is his own warning tbh
a/n: idk i'd bark for him.. feedback/rbs always appreciated, esp this one bcs... i felt like he was hard to write and would love any feedback on him :3 this is ONLY smut btw. not proofread.. sorry :/ jjk works now being uploaded to @puppykento
word count: 1.5k words
Sukuna's gaze flicks across the row of kneeling concubines, analysing each of their features to see which one would be most suitable for his needs tonight. As he walks alongside the row of undressed women, he stops occasionally to have a closer look at the ones that particularly interest him. His hands explore them, groping every inch of them before he's lost interest once more, skulking further down the line.
He looks at you curiously once he reaches you, all four eyes trained on your body. He kicks your knees wider apart with a foot, tilting his head.
"You aren't completely hopeless." He says as he examines you, his two lower arms keeping your legs spread as he squats down. One of his other four hands begins to roughly grope one of your tits while his final hand explores between your folds, his fingers gathering up the slick that's begun to drip from you.
“With me, pet.” He orders after a moment, giving you a slight squeeze before standing up. Pet. That was all he had ever addressed any of you as. He did not learn the names of those deemed lesser than him. Your name would never register in his mind - you'd remain another pet for him to use and discard once he was bored. You keep your gaze down as you follow after him, staying quiet. It was best to be obedient when captured by Sukuna - something you had learned after witnessing the many punishments he'd made women endure.
You hadn't been chosen before. You could feel yourself shaking slightly as you were led to his chambers. He sat on the bed with his legs spread, letting his robe fall open. Your eyes widen at the sight, a tremble developing in your hands. You'd heard the stories, but you thought them to be exaggerations.
Sukuna laughs at your reaction, clearly amused. “Impressive, are they not?” He muses, languidly stroking one of his large cocks, his eyes trained on your face. He thumbs over the leaky tip, his grin growing as he watches your gaze trail the movement.
“On your knees, pup.” He waits for you to comply before tugging you even closer by your collar - the only thing you were permitted to wear. He looks down at you, his eyes trailing your form. He slips one of his legs between your thighs, then pushes you down by your shoulder so you're practically seated on his ankle.
“Such a drippy cunt.” He teases, tapping the head of one of his cocks against your lips until you open up, pushing the head past the entrance of your mouth. “Go on, puppy. You look like a bitch in heat. Hump it and show me how badly you want your master.”
He laughs harder when you start to rub your pussy against his leg and desperately try to suck his cock. Your jaw is stretched to the limits to accommodate his girth, and all you can really do is suck on the tip.
“Is that the best you can do?” He grunts, pulling you off his cock with a look of dissatisfaction spreading across his features. “You're more of a dirty mutt than a pup, really. An entirely pathetic little thing. Can't even suck cock right. Are you sure you're one of mine? Usually I have a talent for picking sluts…”
He lets out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like your very existence is an annoyance to him. He clicks his tongue, hoisting you up and onto the bed unceremoniously by your collar. “Not that it matters. A bitch is a bitch. They all take dick the same.”
He has your legs dangling off the edge of the bed, your ass in the air. He settles between your legs, spreading your folds with two thumbs. “Humans are such fragile things.” He murmurs, sounding like he's talking more to himself than he is addressing you. He fucks two fingers into your weeping hole, scissoring them open. “Need to make sure you can take me, little one.”
You hear him spit, a sudden wetness hitting your tighter hole that makes you flinch, your eyes widening. “Don't give me that look, pup. You have two perfectly good holes for my cocks. I'm going to use them.” He grunts, and then he's pushing a finger past the tight ring of muscle.
It takes a while to adjust, your chest heaving with heavy breaths as you grip the sheets beneath you. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a pathetic whine, your brows pinching together.
“Good dog.” He coos, doing his best to stretch you open. His patience wears thin after a few more moments, and he pulls his hands away from your body, stroking his cocks. “Want a treat, puppy?”
He grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head, shaking it up and down to mimic a nod. He grins at that, pinching one of your cheeks before he's rubbing the tip of one of his cocks up and down your folds, parting them before he presses his hips forward, filling you up inch by inch.
He bottoms out with a low groan, his hand lazily stroking his second cock as he focuses his eyes on you. “Such a fat pussy, pup. Sucks me in so good…”
He pulls out so just the tip is in, but he doesn't thrust back in like you expect. You make a noise of protest, arching your back and trying to push back against him. “Such a greedy fuckin’ dog. I told you you're taking both my dicks tonight, so be fuckin’ patient while I get it in. I've torn sluts in half before, and I'll do it again.”
Your heart beats faster at his threat, and you instantly still your movements. You feel the head of his cock nudging your ass, and it's not long before he's pushing forward, splitting both of your holes open on his cock. The pain of the stretch has your eyes watering. You feel like it's hard to suck in a breath, your body shaking as the air is fucked out of your lungs.
He's brutal. He doesn't give you a chance to adjust. This isn't for you, after all. You're his pet. His property. He pounds you into the mattress, pulling you harshly into his thrusts with his grip on your hips, using you like a fleshlight.
“Speak, pup.” He hisses through gritted teeth, yanking you back repeatedly as he fucks you on both of his cocks. The nails of his fingers dig harshly into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks in the skin.
“S'good, feels so-” You're cut off as he yanks your hair back painfully, making you yelp. Your body is folded in half, your back arched almost unnaturally as he drags the upper half of your body to be flush against his while he thrusts into you from behind.
“Stupid mutt.” He grunts out, one of his free hands grabbing at your stomach to pull you closer to him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting down harshly. “Dogs don't talk. Try again.”
Heat creeps up your face and neck as you register his command, your heart dropping to your stomach. You bark once, as if just testing the waters. Clearly you've pleased him, cause he moans loudly in your ear and adjusts his hips so he's pounding relentlessly against that gummy spot that makes your stomach tighten up.
“Good… good fuckin’ pup. Just like that. Make some noise f’me.” His thrusts are slow and deep, knocking the air out of you each time he bottoms out. You bark again, and he speeds up, making you keen and arch into him further. You feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your mouth hanging open as he uses your cunt for his own pleasure.
A bark is forced from your lips every time his hips smack the fat of your ass. It isn't long before you cum, your eyes rolling back as you moan loudly, shaking in his grasp. Sukuna growls loudly at the feeling of you clenching around him, your walls fluttering around his cock while his other cock gets milked by your tight ass. He pins you to the mattress with his large frame as he forces his way balls deep into you, filling you with an inhuman quantity of cum.
He pulls out with a shuddering breath, cleaning himself off before slipping his robe back on. He watches your holes leak his cum with satisfaction, giving you a moment before addressing you again.
“Up, pet. Time to go.” He murmurs, patting your ass a few times. He seems to pause for a moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly as he looks at you.
“I'll have someone run you a bath.” Is all he says before he waves you off, his eyes lingering only a moment too long.
#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n
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Safari Motel, 2001 Fremont St – c. '64
The motel was opened in 1954 by Henry & Agnes Spizzirri. A pool was added the following year. Permits on file with the Las Vegas Building and Safety Dept. indicate that a number of construction projects occurred on the property between ‘56 and '60: a six-unit addition and five-unit addition, remodeling of the office, and a remodeling of the neon sign. The original motel sign seen in a postcard below was altered and raised by the 60s, seen in the later postcards.
The motel property changed hands numerous times in the 70s-90s. In '91, Las Vegas police and fire inspectors shut the motel down after discovering numerous code violations. The motel reopened under new ownership and changed hands again several times. Wendy Yeh was owner in 2017 when criminal activity on site prompted the City of Las Vegas to close the motel again.
In the 2020s the motel was renovated and reopened as residential apartment units, used as bridge housing by U.S.VETS.
The Safari sign on the motel lobby was removed and donated to the Neon Museum. The freestanding sign was restored to its circa ‘60 form in 2024, funded by a grant from the Commission for the Las Vegas Centennial.

Postcard c. '57


Postcards c. 60s-70s




Safari's 1954 motel sign was altered circa '60. The sign was later painted grey and not working for decades. The sign was restored in the 2024 with funding from Commission for the Las Vegas Centennial.
Note: Clark County Assessor’s Records indicate the motel was constructed in '56. Other public records show the motel was open as early as Apr. 1954.
Sources include: Frank Ellis Elected Proxy by New Motel Association. Las Vegas Review-Journal, 4/22/54 p10; Minutes, 7/21/54. Las Vegas City Commission Records (MS-00237) UNLV Special Collections & Archives; Authorities close motel after numerous code violations found. Las Vegas-Review Journal, 2/23/91 p20; Vegas’ urban jungle safari. Las Vegas Review-Journal, 4/23/2017 p17; CityCast Las Vegas. Can Vintage Motels Help Solve Homelessness?
Published 4/23/2017, Updated 2/18/2025.
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The Monster Under the Bed | KNJ
➳ Pairing: yan!nightmare!demon!nj x fem!reader
➳ Genre: Yandere, Horror, Monster Au
➳ Warnings: Swearing, consumption of alcohol, mentions of tera-phphobia (fear of monsters), childhood abuse and trauma, mention of an alcoholic parent, gore, violence, blood, injuries, asphyxiation, gagging, NON-CON kissing and touching (not sexually), Namjoon degrades the reader a bit, supernatural torment, physical harm to the reader, the reader goes a bit crazy, mentions of soul-eating?…. Anyways
➳ Synopsis: When a human falls asleep they face two realms: the dream and nightmare world— where one is controlled by the angels to kiss you goodnight, and the other controlled by unknown creatures that push behind your darkest fears. So when your constant fear of monsters hiding under your bed continues to grow in your life, one peculiar nightmarish friend becomes infatuated to keep it that way.
➳ Word Count: 6.7k+
➳ Disclaimer: This fanfic is purely from my imagination, I do not intend to harm any Idol or person in any way. Nor sexualising them. Please do not steal any ideas from here, this is all of my work and original work. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR.
The Monster Under the Bed ©Copyright -2024- themochiverse - All Rights Reserved
No part of the story can be copied, reproduced, redistributed or transformed into any other form. Meaning no photocopying, recording whether written or electrically. No methods are allowed that uses anything from this fic. This follows in the permitted Copyright Law. All images and/or gifs go to their rightful owners.
A/N: Fuck my lazy ass, I got it done, and I hope the story is good! I wasn’t bothered to add a banner cuz I was too excited to post, I’ll add one later one. Anyways, enjoy!
Taglist; @minshookie29 @6tslovr @proflyndo @pinkcherrybombs @papijiminfeed @justanotherstarlightmonger @kittykatfey @princess-sunshyn @jinniesjoon94 @trashlord-007
You're asleep.
Head tucked in gently in the crevice of your elbow, the soft quilt tangled by your ankles as you parted your dry lips open, swallowing the icy air. After a long day of work exhaustion crept up on you, and once your head hit the pillow— like a spell chanted on you, you fell asleep. Subtle chirps could be heard from outside your fogged-up window but you wouldn't notice it anyway. As your body was at rest, your mind was yoked within a dream.
The breeze howled in your ear and your legs dangling from the old wooden bridge you sat on. The moon hid behind the thick clouds, ultimately bringing darkness to surround you. The field behind you swayed in the wind, and the tall grass whispered as they shook together.
Snap
Your head spun around to the impulsive noise, and your heart dropped. From a good distance stood an old man. He was decorated with long boots and a hat that covered his face. Your eyes followed his arm, it was clenched on an object so tightly that you recognised it within a second. It was a liquor bottle.
You knew him, you knew who he was.
“Y/N,” his voice dropped and trembled, “have you seen daddy’s new bottle?”
He stomped his foot, walking over to you with rage building up inside him. Instinctively, you got up and ran straight to the empty field, your bare feet facing any prick that came along the way. You could hear his footsteps getting closer but you won’t turn your head. You will never turn your head to see him.
But you stopped in your tracks as the sight of the old man appeared in front of you again. He raised his bottle high in the air, and you cowered in fear, covering your face as he was about to strike. You shrieked waiting for the impact, but it never came. Instead, your mind felt dizzy when your eyes opened to the familiar surroundings.
Old drawings of animals were stuck on the wall, the vanity mirror was disguised with dust and there were the broken scars on a cupboard next to your old bed.
Your childhood room.
With haste, you trudged to the door to leave but it creaked shut, and darkness clouded your sight. Your hands fiddled with a butterfly lamp that was on the bedside table, and your fingers wriggled to find the switch.
The insects cried, the wind roared and something whispered. You froze at that, and your eyes followed the gap under the bed. You gulped, clenching your fist as your nails dug deep into your skin.
Nothing is there Y/N, nothing is there—
“Are you sure?” A hoarse voice rumbled and you flinched. Your heart pounded as you felt your body giving up on you. Your legs shook and they dropped to the floor as you felt yourself being dragged to the dreaded place that has practically haunted you for your whole life.
“No…” you mumbled, “Please no!”
Red eyes blinked at you, and they glinted in mischief. A snarl vibrates and a long black hand appears—claws lingering within the air before it grasps your chin, bringing your face closer to him.
“Aren't you a pretty little thing?”
You couldn't see the creature that spoke to you but you shivered at its touch. The energy was drained from your body and your mind went fuzzy. This creature’s touch left a numb feeling in your head. Void. Alone. But alone with him. Your eyes could only witness the darkness within and your hands weakly clutched onto the dirty bedsheets as you felt this creature pull you closer.
“Still scared? Didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?” The voice left hot words in your ear and your neck stiffened at the comment. How the fuck does it know?
With little courage, you spoke.
“What do you want from me?”
A deep chuckle erupted in the room, and the grip on your chin loosened a bit.
“My, my, this is the first question you wanted to ask me? Very well, I’ll answer honestly for you,” his other hand came to caress your cheek, “You see, I'm very picky when it comes to what type of humans I want to devour. There's just something in your soul that's very precious to me, and it would be very precious to any other creature too—“
Your hands grabbed onto the cold claws that held your face, and you tried to get out of his hold. Your breathing quickened. What did he just say? Devouring humans? You struggled futilely in his hold, your clammy palms soon gave up. The grip on your chin tensed this time, and they hushed you with ease.
“Shh, my darling. Let me continue before I let you go,” the creature hummed before proceeding, “In other words, I want you and your soul. I want to be with you forever.”
Your eyes widened at those proclamations and the claw that was settled against your cheek crawled up to your forehead.
“Now wake.”
You gasped as you jolted in your bed. Sweat stuck to the back of your shirt, your body was burning and you felt suffocated. It was just a nightmare Y/N, just a fucking nightmare. You slid off your bed and a fluffy brown tail tickled your legs. Your body hunched as you stared at your adorable cat.
“Morning Max, you need some breakfast?” The cat blinked its eyes slowly before calling out to you as it walked out of your room. You sighed, stretching as you went after your pet into the kitchen. The sun was covered by clouds and the day groaned dimly.
Max purred as you grabbed the packet of food and began to pour it into his favourite bowl. His head dived in, and tiny crunches escaped from his small mouth. You squeezed the packet in your hand, the slippery texture on your palms was still there. You tapped your foot impatiently as the remembrance of the sudden nightmare continued to dawn on you.
This didn't feel right, the nightmare felt way too realistic. And how would a monster know about your past? Maybe it was understandable, you had a traumatic childhood and your combined phobia was already monstrous. It was unsettling though, the way it grabbed your face and talked to you. Especially how you immediately felt weak by its presence..anyone would get chills from it.
Ding.
A chime vibrated from your phone as you checked it.
Rosewood Clinic: Scheduled Appointment at 9:45 am with Doctor Link. Please arrive 20 minutes earlier. If you wish to cancel or reschedule please call us at xxx-xxx-xx
Right, the appointment. You completely forgot about it, and now you have more to discuss with your doctor.
Didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?
“Daddy, can we please go to the fair today? Please?” You pouted at your father, begging him to go to the country fair.
“Alright, we’ll go. Call your mama for me?” He asked and you smiled happily as you went to get your mum.
“Mama! Mama! Guess what? Daddy said we’re going to the fair today.” You exclaimed proudly, giggling when your mother picked you up in her arms. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and she kissed your cheek softly.
“That’s great news sweetie, come on your father must be waiting.”
Your family arrived at the fair, and loud country music rang in your ears. There were multiple rides and food stalls, vibrant colours and the laughter of children brought merriment. The scent of fresh food and screams echoed in the background as you had the opportunity to roam free.
“Y/N, come here. Daddy here is gonna win a prize for you,” your father gleefully said before he resumed the challenge he had to face. You watched with big eyes as your father held small darts, his arm flexed before he threw them.
Pop
Pop
Pop
The small balloons popped and a medium teddy bear is given to your dad.
“Here ya go princess.” With a chaste kiss to your cheek you laugh, holding tight onto the teddy bear. The fun day went by fast, your father had you in his arms and you rested your head on his shoulder. The noises from the fair soon disappeared as your family inched closer to the parking lot.
“Hey there partner, it's been a while, hasn't it?”
A gruff voice spoke out from the shadows and your dad halted in his tracks. The streetlight dimmed the place an ugly yellow. You felt two arms pull you away from your dad’s grasp and you were with your mother now.
“What the hell do you want Rodrick?”
“Have you forgotten to pay your debt? Did ya get too carried away with our money?” The man named Rodrick gestured towards you and your mum, and his eyes travelled to the fair.
“Leave them out of this.”
“Give me the fucking money, I know you have it.”
“I don't have it—”
“Give me the fucking money or I’ll shoot them!”
Rodrick pulled out a gun, pointing it straight at you both. Your mother hugged you, turning your head to the side as goosebumps drove all over her.
“Hey…hey, lets talk about this okay? This is between you and me, leave my family alone,” your dad said calmly as he eyed the gun, “put the gun down Rodrick—”
“No! Do you know the shit I had to go through because of you? They beat me up and killed my brother, you think that ain't enough till they come for me? I need the money now, give me the money.”
Your dad took a step forward, his hands were in the air as he inched closer to Rodrick.
“The fuck you doing man? I said give me the money!” The gun swung to your father as he was close to grasping the object.
“Don’t come closer or I’ll shoot.” Rodrick’s hand shook and his lips trembled. He was going to die soon, he needed the money desperately.
You peeked your head to the side and saw your father lunge at the man as they both fell to the ground. They wrestle on the ground, your father trying to get the gun off of Rodrick.
“Get to the car!” Your father yelled and your mother ran with you. The sight of your father fighting gets smaller and smaller as you're close to approaching the car.
Bang
A gasp echoed in the background, like a silent serpent ready to strike before falling to its own downfall. Crows cawed and the birds flew away from nearby trees. Like a tower descending, your mother fell on top of you.
“Y/N? Y/N?”
Your head shook off the thoughts as you stared at your doctor. You had zoned out before you had realised it, and with a fake smile, you responded.
“Sorry, I—”
“It’s alright Y/N, sometimes we remember the things we don't want to see. Tell me how your week has been.”
A clock ticked in the room and you stared at the pale woman. Her black hair almost went grey as she tried to keep a straight posture.
“Um, nothing much. Just work keeping me busy, and I've been getting a couple of nightmares lately.”
The scritching of paper caught your ears as you watched Doctor Link write down the things you mentioned.
“Nightmares, I see. I assume it's still because of your father or?” A long pause was held in the air before you replied.
“Still because of my dad, which I don't know why because I stopped having them a while ago, so I thought it would stop.”
“Okay, we've discussed this before Y/N, due to the abuse and trauma you faced at a young age, the memories we've collected can sometimes—”
“Monsters too. My phobia of monsters made it worse.”
“Okay, tell me about the nightmare then.”
You squeezed your hands together, the sweat starting to form again.
“…and then I was back at that place, and there was this whispering coming from my bed. For some reason, my body just dropped and this claw grabbed onto my face. It spoke to me, saying that it wants to be with me forever..”
Scratch
Scratch
A loud sigh poured out from the doctor’s mouth, “Y/N, the phobia you have is because it was transformed by your dad. Ultimately as this is a nightmare, the things you say about this monster, are not real. It isn't real, and it’s not going to harm you. I can guarantee you that.”
You rubbed your palms together, the voice inside you wanting to rip you apart for not speaking up.
It felt real, too real.
You’re back home, frustration building up inside you. Maybe the doctor was right, it was just a nightmare. With past events and your stupid phobia, it just made you a mess. You wondered what the monster looked like, all you could see was a black void and long black hands. But you should be glad you didn’t see its face, after all, only the devil disguises its impurity.
Max is asleep on the couch, the fluff ball in a vulnerable position. You grinned at the sight of him, taking a photo. The house felt quiet since you lived alone, and that nightmare, gosh that fucking nightmare keeps haunting you like a freak.
You decided to enter your bedroom, eyes automatically clinging to the gap underneath the wooden exterior. It’s fucking childish, why would you be scared of something like a ridiculous monster?
They’re not real, they’re not supposed to be real. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as you knelt, crouching and angling your head to the side to get a better glimpse of the number of things you put in there.
Just enough to block the gap, just enough to make you feel safe. It was like a shield to protect you, but little did you know that shield would come crumbling down because of you.
There were a couple of old boxes, empty perhaps, and decorative pieces to make it look messy. You kept staring at the very back endlessly, your room was dark, with the curtains drawn— you made a mistake.
Your breath hitched, fingers gripping onto your carpet thread as you swear you saw something blink at you. The house is dead, and the longer you stare at the dark end, the more you see the eyes. Though, they weren’t red this time but a dull white. Almost grey, but it blinked.
“Y/N…”
No… not now. What you heard can’t be real.
“Get the fuck out of my head,” you mumbled to yourself. A sudden urge grew deep within you, you needed something.
Wine
You needed some wine.
You jumped out of that position, drawing the curtains open to bring some light into the room. You gnawed on your thumbnail as you practically ran out of the room. You could hear your heart racing, the blood pumping faster and faster as you opened the wine cabinet.
Unscrewing the bottle, you poured a full glass, swallowing a tremendous amount of the crimson liquid as it trickled down your chin.
You sunk to the floor as you hugged your knees, your back rested against the cabinet. Fucking phobia, what Doctor Link had mentioned…. Was it true? Did this phobia happen because of your dad, or were you always just a fucking coward?
The grip on your wine glass tightened as you shut your eyes, hellish memories enveloping you like a greedy pig.
“This is all because of you!”
Slap
“Your Mother is dead because of you!”
Slap
“Get the fuck out of my sight, you keep reminding me of her. Get out before I fucking kill you.”
A bottle is thrown in your direction, and the glass stabbed into your skin makes you wobble. You felt numb, your body was bruised and battered at this point, and the blood that trickled from your forehead was damping your broken soul. When you fell with a thud, your father left, banging the doors shut.
Ironically unlike your mother, your father left you instead of running to you. Maybe there was no purpose to live anymore, you had no meaning, no goal or desire.
You should have died instead of your mother that night if you ever knew this would be the conclusion. Warm tears trailed down your face, they mixed with the blood as you stared at the ceiling.
It felt like staring at your mother, the same cold expression on her face as those tears continuously fell from her eyes before her final wheezes ceased.
Your father’s yell echoed in the background as your delicate hands cradled your mother’s soft cheeks. Except this time, there was no one to do that for you.
Your vision blurred, hoping that you would see your mother right now. It didn't matter if she appeared like a ghost, even if it sounded ridiculous.
Maybe she hated you for not taking her place. You're eyes scanned to a clock that ticked silently, and it was midnight. How much longer could you bear this?
You wanted to finally leave this hellhole. But you winced in pain, and the sound of the front doors opening made you freeze. Loud footsteps came closer as you saw your father’s dishevelled appearance.
“You’re still here?” He grunted as he plopped another box of vodka bottles onto a large table.
It was quick and painful as you felt your hair tugged upwards. Your hands weakly slapped your father’s rough wrists as he dragged you to your room upstairs.
“No, Daddy, please… I'm sorry.” Your eyes widened as he pushed you into your room, locking the doors shut. It was utterly dark, all the lights in your room were either torn apart by your father or destroyed by him.
You slid onto your bed, shielding yourself with the dirty covers as you shook. You always heard a voice whenever this happened, and one night you saw the thing that spoke to you.
It looked like a human and you caught the slightest glimpse of it before hell broke loose. Their skin glowed, and a white t-shirt was worn as they walked across your room. You remembered what he wore so well, yet you didn't remember him.
Your eyes opened as your butt began to feel sore. The glass was empty and only the stains of the red wine remained. Your body felt drained, the memories collapsed on you and you struggled to get up.
You trudged to your room quietly, closing the door shut as you crawled into your bed. Like a train coming to its last destination, your memories do the same, you don’t remember what happened after you were locked in your room.
It wasn't too long before you went back again to the realms, too bad they were interconnected.
When you trembled in your bed that night, the blood soaking the pillow, Namjoon grinned. Not because of what terrible consequence you had faced, but because he finally found a perfect person like you.
He spent years devouring the souls of many individuals but neither ever satisfied his hunger at all. He could keep as many humans as he would like, and he had the choice to not kill them. If he had you, he didn't need to waste more years to find another suitable victim.
He didn't know how he was entranced by you at first, maybe it was the way you'd brush your hair or how you tried to smile after suffering from your injuries. But you caught his eye, his heart would race whenever he saw you.
But rage took over him whenever he saw your father beat you, even though he had the power to do something, he already sensed that your father was going to be dead soon anyway.
He was really hungry that night, starving himself on purpose just so he could get a taste of your sweet soul, consume the euphoric feeling of your fear so he felt energised enough to convince you to stay with him.
But would you?
He didn’t mean to go overboard, he just really needed to have a bit of your soul. It wasn’t going to harm you any way and he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he needs to live too.
The sudden harsh whispers and calls of your name made you shiver and Namjoon watched in delight. He needed to transform and watch your beautiful expressions fall into place.
Oh, it was terrible, terribly good.
“Sweetie….my baby, Y/N?” You stiffened at the familiar feminine voice that came from underneath your bed. It couldn't be true, your mother was dead. But… did she listen to your prayers to God?
Hesitantly you replied, “Mama? Is that you?” Your voice shook as you waited for a response.
“My darling, why didn't you save me? Look at how miserable your father is.” Her voice wavered in the air and you swore you could feel her presence right beside you. Her words scarred into your mind, this didn’t sound like her at all.
Without hesitation, you pulled the covers off of you in a rush, and your heart dropped at the sight of darkness in front of you. Your mother was not here, then how the hell did you hear her voice?
“Y/N…?” You froze and your breaths started to become quick. You glanced down from the side of your bed, the voice was coming from there. Your knuckles were tense and white when you gripped your blanket, there’s no fucking way.
Silence clouded your sense of hearing as a long black claw stretched out from underneath the bed, its nails scratched the wooden floor before it rushed back.
Your breath hitched as you felt a cold exhale next to your ear. You bit your bottom lip harshly, chewing on the spot as you craned your neck slowly. Your pulse quickened when you saw the figure.
Their eyes glimmered in the dark and you gasped, an audible yell for help prepared to leave from your throat.
But he lunged at you, one inhuman hand pinning your wrists tightly above your head while the other was clamped over your mouth.
Your screams were muffled by his long black claws as you writhed underneath him. His demonic form took over, and red eyes blinked into yours as he watched your head snap upwards. His red eyes stared at you with adoration, God you were so cute. He shushed you softly as he wiped your tears.
“If I let go, promise you won't scream?”
You calmed yourself down a bit as he removed his hand away from your mouth. He delicately traced your quivering lips, grinning at the sight of your compliance.
“I know you're scared sweetheart, but you need to be a good girl for me, yeah? I've been watching over you for a while now, and you're such a good person. But you need someone, a bit of healing and protection to make you feel less lonely. I've come to offer that, I'll heal you and protect you in exchange for a bit of your soul.”
This thing had been watching you? For how long?
The grip on your wrists loosened momentarily as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes scanned its features—if you removed the black claws and the red eyes, it almost looked human.
“But the thing is, you have no say in this anyway. I nearly killed myself because of you, starving to death to finally have you. Don't you feel guilty? Making a poor monster like me wait for a long time to taste your soul?”
Namjoon wanted you to feel bad, and miserable for him. He chuckled softly, you were a monster too for making him suffer like that.
You felt your body sink into the mattress further, wrists weakly wriggling in his iron-grip hold.
“I just need you to listen to me, and everything will be okay.”
He grabbed your cheeks, squeezing them harshly so you could open your lips.
“Come on baby, open wide for me,” he murmured and he pushed one claw deep inside your open mouth.
You gagged repeatedly as you felt it go down your throat, and your mind fogged with pain. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your lungs restricting any oxygen to escape. It hurt for a split second like something was being removed from your body entirely. It was solid and rough with jagged edges, your throat started to burn as panic settled in.
You couldn’t breathe.
You watched the thing turn more demonic, and it hovered over you as you helplessly felt too tired and weak to even do anything at this point. Your eyes blurred as you felt suffocated, and your heart pumped wildly.
Your mouth was wide open as you exhaled a heavy breath and a clear cloud-like bubble came out. The claw was soon withdrawn and you gasped for air.
You thought it was over, heck no, you thought it was fake. But he was still here, right in front of you. Black hair covered its demonic look as it devoured the bubble in one go.
You froze in fear, tears falling from your face as it looked at you.
“Such a sweet soul,” he murmured before lowering his face, “would you mind if I had more?”
Before you could even protest or utter a scream, you felt his dangerous hands crawl up your thigh, his sharp claws piercing through your skin lightly. It burned with every stroke, and you whimpered. His touch was numbing your mind, but you could still feel the pain ripping through you.
“Shh, be a good girl for me,” his hand wrapped around your throat, “and don’t fucking scream.”
You felt his cold lips on yours, his claws continued with their marks as they neared your chest. You realised too late that not only was your mind numb, but your body was paralysed. You couldn’t fight him, you couldn’t do anything to escape from this hell.
Your fingertips twitched when he shoved his tongue inside your mouth, and his claws finally reached the centre of your stomach.
At first, it was like multiple thumbtacks were piercing your body that soon felt like large knives sinking inside of you. Your eyes widened when you saw his sharp claws press into your stomach, the blood escaping as almost half of his hand was inside. You felt your insides twisting as a muffled, hoarse scream erupted from your mouth and Namjoon swallowed it all, pressing even deeper.
He was sucking the life out of you, his claws finally grasping onto a bit of your soul. His kiss was a form of intimacy, but it was much easier to consume your fear like this.
Mind numb, body paralysed, all under his control as he shamelessly sucked more of your already broken soul. It almost felt like you were dying. Once he removed his bloody claws, your teary-eyed expression remained as he finally removed himself from you.
“Sweet dreams, my love.”
The soft breeze cooled your body as you sat on a rock, watching the waves crash into the shorelines. It felt peaceful, magical almost. The high view of the far distance between the sea, and the cliff was pretty high too.
He could sense you. He could feel the happiness radiating from you once he stepped into the dream realm. Namjoon successfully got to get rid of the angels that were guarding the entrance of their world.
He must admit that the bright colours of this place were oddly fascinating. Light pink hues dusted with white clouds and scenery? Wow, it was nothing compared to the nightmare world. Nothing.
Namjoon’s land was far more different and special. It was like an abandoned location with monsters lurking around in the shadows. Thunderstorms were constant and daily, the sky as grey as a rock.
Ever since the Lord of Demons was able to break the barrier between the two realms, it has made easier access for any creature to be able to snatch their victims while they were dreaming.
They were ruthless, and greedy and had unimaginable appearances that would make your heart stop. Even if there were Guardian Angels, protecting their realm— demons like Namjoon were always able to come through discretely.
He wondered if he were able to glitch into your world so that he could easily have you to himself. Those sleep paralysis demons were extremely lucky.
He reminisces about the first time he got to taste your soul. You wouldn't understand the emotions that rushed through his body, he felt so high around you that the moment he stepped away after decorating your body crimson—he could only think about you.
With the recent interaction of finally getting to you after a narrow escape from the Guardian Angels, Namjoon felt relieved.
It almost broke his heart when you tried to escape from his grasp that day, his claws menacingly trying to provoke a reaction out of you.
He thought you would have recalled instantly ever since the first night he devoured a bit of your soul and left you with deep gushed marks of his claim on you. He didn't want to show himself deliberately because he thought you would know. That you would recognise him.
Maybe your father hit your head a bit too hard with the metal bat in the barn after he saw the medical bills.
The next day he watched alongside you. He watched the way your father hung from a big tree, the noose around his neck was stout and it was perfectly wrapped around his neck like a present.
Namjoon noticed the dead look in your eyes and a deranged smile crept up on your face.
You and he were a match made in heaven.
Namjoon could see you from afar, the way your body relaxed in this realm… if you could only do the same in his one. He quietly approached you, silently sitting next to you as his fingertips brushed your hand.
You flinched at the subtle contact and you snapped your head, eyes scanning the unknown person.
He looked familiar, with black hair and a white shirt, you swear you've seen someone like that before.
“Who are you?” You stared at the gorgeous man in front of you, his dragon eyes alluring you.
“We met before.” His voice drifted silkily into your ears.
“We did? Uhm, what's your name?” You responded as you thought hard about where you last saw him.
“I'm Namjoon, and you're Y/N.” A pang hit your stomach, how did he know your name?
“How do you know my name?”
“Like I said, we met before.” His voice almost felt recognisable, did you actually meet this man before?
Namjoon sighed, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s such a shame you don't remember me, do I really have to remind you?”
Your lips almost twitched into a frown, you didn't like the way he was staring at you.
“Listen—”
“Didn’t Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?”
Your eyes widened and your breath shook, “what did you just say?”
“I said didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?” Namjoon repeated the words deliberately and slowly as he smiled. Your mind went into a frenzy, and your pulse quickened. It was him, the creature that constantly grew your fear.
You get up quickly, and he does too, the next words making you sick in the stomach.
“Were the claws too much? You know I was sorry, I would never hurt you love, it's part of the process for me to live for your soul.”
You began to walk backwards, his words hammering you like a nail. After all these years, the monster that tormented you so badly that your phobia was initially created was here, right in front of you. You finally saw his face. Innocent like an angel, but a devil within the heart.
“Do you remember now? Do you remember the way I had your soul? Shit, your dad knocked you out so hard that after this many years, you finally remember me.”
You stopped in your tracks, your head turning to the side when you realised you were on the edge of a cliff. Out of nowhere, grabbing onto your shoulders, Namjoon’s voice echoed and rang in your ears.
“Don’t leave me, you can’t forget about me again.”
“I won’t leave you alone like your father did, isn’t it good riddance that he killed himself?” There’s no way he’s been with you this whole time.
He pushed you back gently, each wavering step making you sick in the stomach.
“I want to stay with you forever,” he rested his head on your shoulder and you flinched, “you're a precious person to me, you make me feel better that I can have you, in any way I want.” You jerked, trying to elude from his iron-tight grip.
“I love you Y/N, I'm hopelessly in love with you.”
His words come crashing down as you lose your step right at the end of the cliff. You screamed as you felt a hand snatch your wrist. You gripped onto Namjoon’s wrist, your life depending on it. You weren't sure why he wasn't pulling you up—
He chuckled deeply, “Stupid girl, did you forget that you're in a dream? If I let go of you right now, do you think you're going to wake up or drown?” He cruelly stared down at you as he held your wrist.
He kneeled so you were face to face, “But I think it'd be much better if we fell together, don't you think?”
Your eyes broadened at the statement, blood rushing to your head. You shook your head, you pleaded at him,
“Namjoon, wait don't do this—”
Ignoring your words, you felt him let go of you as he jumped off the cliff. You watched him fall as your back hit the icy ocean, the water already trying to engulf your throat.
You jolted awake, shuddering from the nightmare you had just faced. Your back was wet with sweat, and as you were sitting up…
Thud.
Someone grabbed your neck from behind, feeling invisible hands wrapped around your throat. Your head hit the pillow again as you struggled to get up. He was holding you down, there's no way he came like this without a dream.
You claw at your neck, shutting your eyes when you suddenly see yourself back in the ocean. You could feel the water getting into your lungs, and someone had gripped your ankle. You saw Namjoon pulling you deeper and deeper into the abyss as you cried for help, words muffled by the water.
You opened your eyes and they started to blur. Panic grew as your heart pumped, feeling the dreaded emotion you never wanted to experience again. You couldn't breathe, it was like your oxygen was being sucked away.
You wriggled your body to grab anything and your hands stretched to whatever was on the nightstand. You couldn't see but your hands tapped on the lamp that was facing your way, and a ray of light burst.
Within a second, the feeling of invisible hands disappeared and you rolled over, choking as you threw up… water. Lots of water.
You groaned weakly as you heaved your breaths. The door to your bedroom was wide open and the hallway was extremely dark. You needed to get out. You shakily looked through the drawers and found a small torch. Turning it on you left your room to look for your cat, calling his name.
“Max! Max, where are you—”
You came to a halt, and your knees almost buckled.
“Isn’t he adorable?” His voice made your bottom lip quiver. You shook your head, tears rushing to your eyes. You couldn't believe this, there he was, sitting on your couch next to your cat. Namjoon turned to look at you and his eyes were black, a murderous intent glinted from the look on his face.
“You can't run away from me, ever.”
In the blink of an eye, he’s gone and silence filled up the whole house. Max then hissed as his eyes darted behind your shoulder. Your heart sank when you realised who he was hissing at.
An external force threw you back to your room, causing you to shriek. Your back hit the wall, knocking the breath out of you. The door slammed shut and you staggered in pain and your eyes flickered to the lamp. A hushed whisper attained your ear as you heard a crack and the light died out.
It was too dark in your room, and you luckily had the torch in your hand. You tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. What about the windows? You rush over to the other side of the room, and your hands draw the curtain open only to come to a sight with no window. You almost drop your torch as you bite your lip.
It was just a solid wall.
“No—fuck, why—” Your voice croaked as you slammed your fist against the wall. Soon you realised why the house was so dark and why the lamp broke. Does he hate light? The thought lingered on your mind till you heard a shuffle from across the room. You swayed your torch to the side and held your breath as there was nothing there.
A low growl could be heard from under the bed as you shone the light there. All of the things you placed to block the gap were gone. Impossible, fuck your mind was going crazy. The light on your torch began to blink repeatedly, and you smacked the torch a couple of times.
“No, no no, don't die.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you managed to keep the light until it flickered one last time. Your breath affixed as there was complete darkness, and you gulped.
Screech.
Warm tears sprang free from the corner of your eyes and you quivered in place.
He was going to get you, he was going to get you, he was going to get you.
Maybe you should check the door again, just in case. Even before you could react, Namjoon’s lengthy, black claw snatched onto your ankle, yanking you in fast.
Your screams echoed as you disappeared the moment you were dragged underneath the bed. Your eyes opened to an unknown place, but it was still dark. Your body ached with every movement you tried to muster.
Namjoon appeared in front of you, his demeanour frightening you as he used his claws to turn your head to the side. A dim yellow light glinted in the dark ahead of you and you couldn't believe what you were witnessing.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Did you check the bed? I think I saw a boy my age last night.”
A small laugh vibrated from your father’s throat as he crouched down at your request. He got back up, caressing your cheek.
“Come on sweetie, didn't Daddy teach you enough to not be afraid of monsters?”
Click.
The lights turned off and the door closed shut. It was dark again.
Namjoon shifted around as you felt him lay down next to you, wrapping one arm around your waist tightly and the other still holding your face in place. He could feel your heart pounding furiously as his claw began to recreate the same process when he had you for the first time.
Your mind started to go fuzzy and your body went numb and his claw crawled closer to your mouth.
Namjoon whispered into your ear, and his heart grew at the sight of finally having you to himself, “You know, you shouldn’t fear the monsters that are under your bed, you should fear those that hide under your pillow and crawl into your head.”
#The Monster Under the Bed#namjoon smut#bts yandere#namjoon x reader#yandere x reader#yandere namjoon#namjoon x you#yandere nightmare demon x fem! reader#yandere writing#yandere imagines#yandere oneshot#bts smut
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Tim & Ace Join the Bat Family Early AU #1
This is one of those AUs where Jason (pre-death or Jason!Lives AU) emotionally adopts Tim shortly after meeting him, but wherein the Drakes are not relocated to Bristol. They live in an expensive intercity apartment in Gotham. Perhaps it's in one of the last remaining wealthy areas approaching Park Row, or the Upper East Side, or it's in Robbinsville.
Wherever Tim lives is close enough that Jason used to see him around town and was concerned about him but had too much going on himself to try to help before Bruce adopted him. When Jason sees Tim now, he decides to figure out what this lonely child's deal is and find a way to help him. Maybe he first sees him again as Robin, out too late because he was taking photos in the park or a W&W campaign he's been playing at the local game shop ran late. Then later, he sees him as Jason at the library, skate-park, park, or a diner. Maybe they attend the same school somehow.
In any case, he decides this kid is on his own way too much, nice apartment or no.
After laying out the foundation to reel in his new baby brother build a friendship upon, Jason uses the distance between their places to his advantage. The intercity buses run practically all night, but there's a fairly early final bus at the Bristol stop. Alfred and Janet would never permit for Tim to ride his bike or skateboard all the way across the R. Kane Memorial Bridge and into Park Row to catch a nighttime bus home. So Jason just has to make sure Tim misses that final bus and then insist he spend the night.
After a couple successes, he also starts suggesting activities for multiple days where it wouldn't make any sense for Tim to head all the way back to an empty apartment and then return to Wayne Manor the next day. So naturally, he should just sleep over.
Jason also buys a spare school uniform in Tim's size to keep at the Manor. Then a couple pairs of jeans and some t-shirt and hoodies. Then there's a small pack of socks, some briefs, and sneakers. Then some 'spare' W&W manuals and detective novels. Basically, Jason turns the spare room that shares a bathroom with his bedroom into Tim's room under everyone's nose (except for Alfred, most likely, but we all know he's a enabler in this).
Dick absolutely notices that he practically has a new baby brother now whenever he comes to spend time with his little brother, but he just rolls with it. Jason has obviously decided they're keeping the kid and that's good enough for him. He checks in with his little bro to make sure they don't need to extract Tim from a bad situation asap and once he realizes there isn't an immediate danger, he just jumps in wherever Jason leaves an opening.
Despite Jason's efforts to be subtle, Bruce notices all this. He initially reaches the conclusion that Jason is lonely and so brings home Ace (dealer's choice which breed and background). Jason (and Tim) loves the dog, but naturally he still works on keeping his little brother dear friend safe at the Manor. Bruce also starts spending more time at home (actually home, not the Cave or his home office) to be with Jason more. This results in Bruce seeing Tim more and then he finally figures out what Jason (and possibly Dick and Alfred) have been up to.
At first, Bruce wants to talk Jason out of trying to adopt this child who has living, wealthy parents. Then he starts to notice the signs of neglect (and perhaps Jack's temper/selfishness) and can't help but join the cause.
Either Janet agrees to let Tim stay with the Waynes while she and Jack are out of town (which is often) and he does so until she dies (then Bruce goes for full custody), or Janet dies early and things take a turn for the worse with Jack, so Bruce goes for custody. (or this could tie in with my 'Alfred is Tim's biological granfather AU' idea and Alfred takes custody of Tim).
Jason doesn't understand at first why Tim seems so reluctant to stay overnight (but seems delighted to visit during the day). After all is said and done, Tim will inform him that he knows he's Robin and hadn't wanted to keep him from patrol just because he missed a bus or had a long commute from his parents' apartment. Tim never worried about Jason or the others figuring out that he knew their identities; he also thought Jason was lonely and a little pushy. He just enjoyed his company and quickly came to love him enough to be cool with all that.
#dc#comics#bat family#batpups#ficlet#fanfic ideas I haven't the time for#jason todd#robin#tim drake#tim wayne#dick grayson#nightwing#ace the bathound#bruce wayne#batman#alfred pennyworth
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A/N: Just a little something I was inspired to write (listening to instrumental sax music gets me going, lol). Enjoy!
~*~
You were smiling, you were giggling. Both sporting secret grins, warmed skin flooded with an overindulgence that came from an open window, one that let in winter’s air without remorse. And it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, you were just on your shared lunch break, upon his soft carpet, sharing a can of Coke, shredding on magazine model standards and going through his records. You never thought his attempts to prove he could do some top secret muscle man move would end up in him on top of you, that milky white smile illuminating every mole and freckle that dotted his defined neck, winding around his tendons, tracing across his jaw, only to splatter over his cheeks. And then he saw you, really drank you in, leaving him to look at you in a realization you were sure would never come to pass.
He’d nodded and you’d obliged. His calloused thumb working on the cream button, unbuttoning your blouse, pushing too gently to see the lace blush of your bra. Your breasts heaved into the cups, every nerve ending a blaze from the loose embers that escaped his hazel orbs. Those very same thumbs left an echoing sound. He breathes and you inhale, the defined bridge of his nose nudging its way into your cheekbone as his mouth meets yours.
His voice is honey-hot, shrouded in a whispers’ rasp when he asks, “What?”
“Nothin’,” you mutter, carding a hand through his caramel layered tresses. “Just you, that’s all.”
“What about me, honey?” A brief frown pulls his bushy brows together.
“You’re you, Steve Harrington. One-hundred percent, unashamedly, authentically you. And I love being here with you like this, did you know that?” You tug apart his polo to glide your fingertips across the chest hair that peeks out from the collar.
Steve is blushing now, a shy little grin quirked at the corners of his mouth. You wanna kiss it so bad. You permit yourself to fondle the gold chain around his neck into a jostle, bringing it out and bringing him forward to meet your mouth. The gold links tickle your chin and drip across your jaw, making you quiver into his hold.
It’s not the winter chill that’s suddenly making you shiver anymore…
~*~
“Wanna put some of my fingers inside of you. Can you take a couple of them for me, baby?”
You’ll do anything that he asks you at this point, and you always will. You’re nodding as he dips his thumbs into the straps of your bra and tugs them down so slowly that goosebumps pepper your flesh. Steve captures the swell of your breasts the way it sits in the cup, working that massive palm down between your legs and into your panties.
“Jesus Christ!” It’s a rather rapid statement, which causes Steve to pull back a little. Worry presses his blown pupils.
“You okay?”
“I just…” you pause, attempting to gather yourself. How can you even form a coherent thought when Steve Harrington has his entire hand cupping your overly wet cunt, leaving you a jumbled and heaving mess of pathetic limbs, all willed by his touch, like some puppet on a string????
“You just?” Steve is pausing to give you the time you need, eyes locked and spare hand curled, knuckles stroking your cheekbone.
“I just never want you to stop touching me.”
He captures your mouth with a trembling fervor, and his hand begins to explore further.
It’s not the heat that blows through the furnace of Steve Harrington’s house that’s suddenly making you hot anymore...
// Eat me paragraph //
#kristenwrites#my work#my writing#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington smut#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x female reader#stranger things blurb#stranger things drabble#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut
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Canada Open Work Permit August 2025 Update: No Job Offer or LMIA Needed
Canada's Open Work Permit program has received significant upgrades in August 2025, opening new pathways for international graduates, spouses, skilled workers, and PR applicants. With no job offer or LMIA required, it offers unmatched employment flexibility. Whether you're a student, refugee, or an Express Entry applicant, this permit might be your gateway to Canadian work and PR.
#canada open work permit august 2025#work in canada without job offer#open work permit canada#work permit without lmia#pgwp canada 2025#canada spouse work permit#bridging open work permit canada#how to apply for open work permit canada#2025 canada work permit guide#canada work visa 2025#work permit for international graduates canada#2 year open work permit canada#canada work visa without job offer#dream canada#canda work permit#Youtube
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The Role of Immigration Companies in Scarborough
A temporary job offer from a Canadian business is required for foreign skilled individuals to work temporarily in Canada. You have the option to apply through a "Open Work" if you or a family member is seeking for a PR card. In Canada, some jobs may require you to know your National Occupation Classification Code if you're looking for work. By Canadian rules, all forms of employment are categorized using this code for Best Immigration Company In Scarborough . With the Canadian government, Skypod Immigration Consulting Company is registered. The immigration regulatory body recognized by Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada is the College of Immigration and Citizenship Consultants (C.I.C.C.), of which our founder is a member. We are the immigration company that assists aspiring immigrants and international students in realizing their goal of relocating to Canada to live, work, study, and settle. We work hard to give our clients the highest level of customer satisfaction by offering them dependable, competent, responsive, and professional service. For each of your unique cases, we offer dependable and reasonably priced solutions. AIPP, EE, PNP (including OINP), LMIA, Start-Up Visa, Self-Employed, Care-Giver, service Immigrant, Family Sponsorship, Work or Study Permits, College and University Applications are all covered inside the scope of our service.

#Best Immigration Company In Scarborough#Provincial Nominee Programs#Federal Skilled Worker (FSW)#Bridging Open Work Permit#pgwprefusal
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The simple guitar riff that gets things started has a supple restraint to it [“I’ve Got a Feeling”], relishing the pure major harmonies it dwells in. By the time the drums enter on the second phrase, the song has set itself up as a disarmingly natural melody built around two chords, simple but solid.
When Ringo’s fill brings the rest of the band in for the surmounting conclusion, the beat pops with a penetrating ring—at the end of the run, when they all pause for Paul to sing the concluding “I’ve got a feeling,” the verse has been rounded off in the best kind of old-fashioned curve: pointing toward a goal, hitting it, and falling away from its charge naturally. John joins in for harmony on the second verse (“Oh, please believe me”), and they both play around with the different ways the tags (“Oh, yeah” and “Oh, no”) can be sung—from a distance, hard and cutting, even jokingly.
Paul’s bridge cuts loose from the sturdiness of the rest of the song with a raging frustration. Where his verse moves along smoothly, the bridge stumbles and lunges, and gains an anxiousness that finds as much discomfort in the groove as the verse finds pleasure: All these years I’ve been running round the world Wondering how come nobody told me All I been looking for is somebody who looks like you!
He’s not prone to such outbursts of self-expression, and his voice breaks into such earnest passion that it’s an entirely believable personal statement, as gut-wrenching as “Oh! Darling.” Rising from the supple alternating chords that give the track its expectant opening moments, his outbursts twist the song from an affirmative smile into a tormented howl. Len-non’s guitar, which links the bridges back up to the verses, tilts downward slowly, pulling hard against the beat before Ringo’s fill sinks it deftly back into place.
Bending his strings to avoid exact delineations in pitch, it’s like one wailing guitar left squirming in pain from all the hollering that came before.
John’s verse flips his typical perspective around as well: Paul is singing about his feelings, so John describes events in a free narrative, an outsider looking in. In a conversational tone, he sings about the small pleasures, “wet dreams,” “putting your feet up,” “letting your hair down,” “putting your foot down.” The phrases are plays on clichés that center around relaxing, letting nature take its course, permitting things to happen with their own logic—the side Paul usually takes. Lennon also contrasts McCartney’s shorter lines, employing the words rhythmically for the kind of play against the beat a good set of Lennon consonants provides.
For the final verse, Phil Spector* mixes these two vocal lines on separate channels, John and Paul singing different interlocking melodies with different words, expressing their inverted personality traits at the same time.
The song is summed up in this section the way “We Can Work It Out” never is: the contradicting personalities are sounded together, linking the implications of their role reversal with the music. It shows us how self conscious they are of their traits, and how they enjoy playing with our expectations of their roles. On this record, it’s Spector’s best expressive touch.
(Tell Me Why by Tim Riley, 1998/2002)
*surprise, Tim, it's not 'Spector’s best expressive touch' it's the way how Paul and John sung it. And you're so right about Oh! Darling
#tim riley#john lennon#paul mccartney#the songs we were singing#john and paul#i've got a feeling#1969
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I was tagged by @brynnmclean in the WIP Wednesday meme! Thank you very much—I'm too sleepy to tag, but anyone who feels moved to do it should consider themselves tagged. In any case, this inspired me to finish the femslash Spirk AU version of "The Naked Time" (aka Jessica Kirk vs other people's internalized homophobia) that I wrote on my birthday:
“It’s our only chance!” S’paak’s dark eyes looked clearer, though her face was still drawn and anguished. “It’s never been done!” she said wildly. “Don’t tell me that again, science officer,” Kirk snapped, on the point of slapping her again. It would mostly just hurt her own hand, but if she could shake S’paak out of this—yet she knew it wasn’t just that. Distantly, she realized that the tension boiling in her wasn’t just panic and urgency, but anger, a sudden pained, shocking fury that wouldn’t help anything. She grabbed S’paak’s arm instead. “It's a theory. It's possible. We may go up into the biggest ball of fire since the last sun in these parts exploded, but we've got to take that one in ten thousand chance!” An entirely unreasonable sense of betrayal—no, not quite—abandonment, loneliness, always that, ran through the rage, somehow extinguishing it. The lurch of feeling left her all the dizzier, hot and sweating, even as Uhura called from the bridge and Kirk managed to say something to her. I found Commander S’paak! S’paak straightened further, tears drying on her cheeks as she dredged up her PADD and started to tap … something into it. Some science thing, maybe. The anti-matter reaction. But it didn’t seem to matter nearly as much as it had the moment before, and Kirk realized: the disease had gotten to her, too. Of course it had. The captain, last of all. Of course, of course.
“I’ve got it. The disease,” she told S’paak, laughing through the blood on her mouth. Not crying. She never cried. “Love. You're better off without it, and I'm better off without mine.”
S’paak gave her a sharp, unreadable glance even as her fingers kept working. Kirk thought of Ruth again, Jan. She could just stick to men; it was always easier, without the secrecy, without having to be so careful, making sure another woman was trustworthy, much less interested in women, much less interested in her. And even if they were, she didn’t always like the way women willing to try could be, in her experience. So often unserious, unromantic. She liked men about as much and could have just stuck to them, made that choice, been fine. But the idea repelled her, felt more dishonest than the secrecy.
She was babbling, she realized, unsure quite what she’d said as S’paak worked. Too much.
Kirk leaned her head against the wall of the chamber. She could hardly feel it through the coiled weight of her hair and turned her face to the side, the wall cold against her burning face. The Enterprise. Her ship, her career. She loved it. But sometimes she nearly hated it, too.
“This vessel,” she said, her voice higher than usual, still choked in laughter. “I give, she takes. She won't permit me my life. I've got to live hers.”
“Jess,” said S’paak quietly.
Her name, Kirk thought. Hers. S’paak and McCoy were the only ones here who did use it: Bones almost always, S’paak now and then, when she considered it worth her while. S’paak did sound concerned, urgent, but at least not pained or ashamed, and it cooled her mind a very little bit. Jess—Kirk opened her eyes. S’paak stood not far away, calm again, far calmer than Kirk imagined she herself could ever be, below the surface.
“I have a beautiful yeoman,” Kirk said conversationally. “Have you noticed, Commander?” Her head was spinning again. “No, no, you wouldn’t. But Sulu could notice her, Leslie, not us. Not me. The captain. I’m not … I can’t …”
The briefing room was a blur around them, her first officer’s face somehow more so. Her friend. Maybe. Did it count, when—
“Jess, there is an intermix formula,” S’paak told her.
“Now I know why it’s called she,” said Kirk, laughing again.
“It's never been tested. It's a theoretical relationship between time and antimatter,” S’paak said.
This was important. Kirk knew that, in some remote corner of her mind. The ship, the crew. S’paak. She tried to pull her thoughts into some kind of order, anything other than this awful human chaos burning through her brain. S’paak, she thought, must be embarrassed. More than usual.
It didn’t help. She felt like her mind was darting around in crazed lines, each different from the rest, endlessly. Fractals of thought.
“A flesh woman, to touch, to hold,” she said dreamily. “A beach to walk on. Nobody watching. No one would have to see, to know. For a few days at least. No braid on my shoulder—”
S’paak shook her just as Scotty hurried out of the turbolift.
Not in front of him.
He was her third in command, reliable, more than reliable. But such a distant third, not like S’paak, always near, faithful, incisive. Kirk couldn’t do this in front of him, anyone else, though she was hunched over the table, hands splayed as she stared at them.
Even through her blurry, burning misery, she could see that Scotty looked shocked and concerned.
“Captain,” he was saying. He never questioned her. Never had.
“Scotty,” said Kirk, trying to catch her breath even as she clenched her teeth together. “Help.”
S’paak, as ever, interceded, her voice cooling some of the fever still raging in Kirk’s mind. “Stand by to intermix. I'll call the formulae in from the bridge.”
Then there was Uhura, too, just as steady, her voice crackling over the comms. “Entering upper stratosphere, captain. Skin temperature now twenty one hundred seventy degrees.”
Kirk managed to look at S’paak and Scotty, both troubled in their own ways, her body still bent over the table, hands clenching and unclenching. Troubled! That was the least of their problems. She just had to think. Like one of her students, back at the Academy. They’d called her course the think-or-sink class. Gary told her that, years after the fact. But nothing was more like think or sink than this. She bit the inside of her cheek and her thoughts settled further, the madness receding just out of touch.
“I’ve got to hang on,” she thought or muttered, blinking. Remember. That was the thing, remembering. Who she was, what mattered. Somehow, she managed to gasp out, “Tell them ... clear the corridors, the turbolift. Hurry.”
They rushed off, leaving her alone in the briefing room. Nobody to brief, of course. Just her, alone, nails digging into her palms, the way she always was in the end. Except—not quite, was she? Not now.
Kirk straightened up, gazing around at the walls of the briefing room, the ceiling, letting the rumble of the ship resonate through her awareness of her entire body. She closed her eyes.
“Never lose you,” she whispered. “Never.”
No time. Her crew needed her. Her ship. The Enterprise, always willing to take what she had to give. That was something, anyway.
With an effort she couldn’t conceivably have put into words, Kirk straightened up and staggered towards the turbolift, smoothing her uniform as she went. Once inside, she forced herself to say,
“Bridge.”
Another victim of the disease had scrawled SINNER REPENT in bright crimson letters on the wall. Sometimes she truly couldn’t make this life up. Kirk wiped the blood off her mouth and stared bleakly ahead as deck after deck rushed by. She was still unsteady and distantly miserable when the doors opened, but that didn’t matter. She was the captain. She could always be miserable later.
She stepped out onto the bridge, taking in the familiarity of the panels and the efficient bridge crew, entirely back to themselves. And McCoy was there, too, equipment in hand, grabbing her by the arm and tearing off her sleeve to stab her with one of his damn needles. Worth it in this case. She felt more sane, if not appreciably better. No danger of humiliating herself in front of anyone but S’paak, who she knew would never breathe a word. And it wasn’t like S’paak wasn’t already—
While the entire bridge crew watched her, waiting for the orders that would determine life or death, Kirk carefully made her way to the captain’s seat, sweat still clinging to her face and body. With effort, she hit the comm connection to engineering.
“Engine room,” Kirk snapped out. “We're set. Hyperbolic course.”
The current navigator said, “Direction, ma’am?”
“Direction, direction,” she muttered, then raised her voice. “It doesn’t matter. The way we came.”
All that mattered was getting out.
“Course laid in, ma’am,” said Sulu, wholly himself once more. The disease hadn’t affected him the same way, she recalled. Just swinging a rapier around, carefree, longing for nothing worse than a chance at dashing heroics. Most of the crew hadn’t been like her or S’paak, either.
Guess we’re special, she thought, and tried to repress the whole thing from her thoughts. She really needed to stop harping on it, even in silence. The ship needed her attention, and anyway, it wasn’t fair to S’paak herself, who would never have said anything under her own power, nor betrayed it in her conduct. Kirk might as well hold poor Riley accountable for nearly getting them all killed.
Then Janice Rand shifted slightly beside her chair, her face nervous, upset. Kirk’s hand twitched towards her then pulled back, refusing to let her eyes linger on anything below her collarbone, instead flicking her glance up at her pleasant expression below the piles of pale blonde hair, lighter and brighter than her own. It didn’t appreciably help.
No beach to walk on. She choked down the words.
“Ma’am?” said Rand. “Can I get you anything else?”
The comm crackled again, and S’paak’s voice broke through.
“Bridge, we’re ready.”
Kirk kept her hands, still curled into fists, on the arms of her chair.
“Engage,” she ordered.
She didn’t know all the details of the reaction happening in engineering, nor did she need to. In another instant, the lights of the ship died. Stars spun out on the viewscreen, and something screamed in her ears, her head, pain radiating throughout her body. Her head jerked backwards in the darkness, but her mind stayed coherent, rational. That was something, she thought, even as she felt her throat tightening, the heat on her skin intensifying, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain could be endured, but not madness.
Then the pain receded and Kirk straightened up, the ship steadying, retreating with increasingly impossible speed as the lights flickered back on. The red alert blinked and beeped. Rand was clutching the arm of Kirk’s chair even as S’paak came hurrying out of the turbolift, alone.
S’paak strode to the other side of Kirk’s chair with her usual decisive grace, Kirk turning towards her without will or deliberation. S’paak’s face was composed, one hand dropping to the back of the chair and the other to the arm, leaning towards her with a trace of urgency in the lean slope of her body. Exactly the S’paak she had always been, almost.
“Are you all right, Jess?” S’paak asked, searching her face as if nobody else on the bridge existed.
“Are you?” Kirk said quietly.
It was a strange, heady moment. Kirk almost felt like everyone else really had vanished, like it was just the two of them amidst a sea of stars. Dimly, she thought that between her ripped sleeve and sweat-streaked face, she must look like hell. S’paak just looked like herself, maybe worried in a S’paak sort of way, not exactly Vulcan and not exactly human. She didn’t seem injured, but if her memories were as clear as Kirk’s, she remembered. Even now, the memory must be far worse for her than for Kirk, worse than for anyone else here. And they might have never seen each other again.
Everything else that Jessica Kirk had thought and felt dissolved, drowned by the sheer force of affection and concern for S’paak, her best friend, her right hand, no one nobler, more faithful, more brilliant. She knew S’paak wouldn’t have liked being sent away, however necessarily, no matter what private conflict battled behind the outwards mask. That was S’paak’s business.
S’paak relaxed into reassuring calm, nodding her head, and Kirk smiled at her. Nothing had to change. She forced herself to remember the existence of Bones, Rand, Sulu, everyone all around them, the Enterprise, whatever the hell was happening outside it.
Something actually had changed, it turned out: the experimental formula had sent them all blasting backwards in time until Kirk gave the border to slow the engines, shifting them out of—time? The stars returned, clear and sharp, the alarms shifted back to green, everything looked and felt normal except Kirk’s own muscles, still coiled tight with tension.
She glanced sharply at S’paak, who was surveying a no-doubt-vast quantity of data at the science station.
“Commander S’paak,” she said. “The time warp—what did it do to us?”
S’paak wheeled around to face her, affect still smooth, but her face alive with interest nonetheless.
“We've regressed in time seventy-one hours,” she reported. “It is now three days ago, Captain. We have three days to live over again.”
Kirk inhaled, her pulse finally slowing.
“Not those last three days,” she said.
S’paak politely ignored that and said, “This does open some intriguing prospects, captain. Since the formula worked, we can go back in time, to any planet, any era.”
Anywhere. Any when. Possibilities, still shapeless, flickered through Kirk’s mind. Not a beach, but something else, perhaps better. Other places, peoples, ways of life, discoveries. Maybe even a place or time where, for a little while, they’d all be safe.
Jess smiled up at S’paak again, fingers uncurling.
“We may risk it someday, Commander S’paak,” she said.
#anghraine babbles#long post#meme prattle#fic talk#fic talk: the lesbian spock agenda#jessica kirk#s'paak#other characters but this isn't really about them#otp: the premise#c: who do i have to be#c: i object to intellect without discipline#genderbending#star peace#cw homophobia
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“Why do you keep staring at me? Do I have the mission brief on my face?”
You blinked to find curious cerulean eyes feigning annoyance. Lee, donned in the gracious and gentle sunlight, was in the middle of recalibrating his weapon when he spoke. With his cheeks dusted in the lightest shade of pink, a mischievous thought crossed your fickle mind.
“Mm, yes,” you said, propping a hand to your chin, “I'm trying to read it, but you are making it hard for me to do so.”
His mouth curls into a frown, a somewhat low gurgle huff at his throat. Yet the pink that was on his cheeks seemed to turn into a darker shade, now extending to his pale ears. Ah, you were making things difficult, teasing your favorite construct while he's doing all the work for you.
“Quit playing around, Commandant,” he sighed, looking away, but the damage was done, “We aren't done with the mission. Focus.”
“Lee,” you called out softly, gesturing with your hand to make him approach you, “I'm sorry! Come here, I think there's something on your face, really.”
“Did the corrupted damage my face?” He asked, “I was sure that I was careful.”
Lee took one last glance at his weapon before looking at you, placing it gingerly on the table you were sitting at. Nevermind the heat that was creeping on his face, he stood in front of you, inches away from your frame, looking elsewhere.
Tenderly, you reached out to cup his face. Although their bionic skin was far from the feel of a human, you cannot help but feel flattered as you felt the heat radiating off of Lee's blushing face. You tried, however, to keep a straight face as you held him.
“No,” you spoke, “I saw something. Stay still, please.”
Unconsciously, Lee leans closer to you. Your fingers trailed to his forehead, delicately brushing away the strands of hair that covered his eyes. You trace the surface of his forehead, slowly to his jaw, dragging your fingers to the arch of his eyebrows. His eyes, although sharp and flitting, you cannot help but look at him in awe as you stared deeply into his cerulean eyes. His mouth opens, breathing so shortly that you felt them fan your face, his body pressed close to you. To the apple of his cheeks, to the bridge of his nose, until your hands find themselves cupping his jaw.
“I want to kiss you, Lee,” you whispered, aware of his breath teasing your lips, the empty gap between the both of you, “...will you let me?”
Lee said nothing. Instead, his eyes were closed as he leaned forward, answering your needs. Muscle memory, you presume, as his hands find themselves wrapped on the sides of your hips, and your arms are on his shoulders. You leaned further, the kiss deepened. Kissing Lee like this was your energy, long missions and hard work melting away as you felt his soft lips crash onto yours. Love, love, love— you felt it in the way his body seemed to be enclosed perfectly in yours, like a puzzle piece; his mechanical heart in sync with yours. When he pulled away, you take in the sight of him drenched in the last hours of daylight, the sun cast on his love-lit cerulean irises, a rare, sweet smile on his lips. Your foreheads touch as you both breathe in the presence of one another.
You wanted more, the greed in you asking to be answered as well, but perhaps to take him right there and then would taint Gray Raven's name.
So, you sneak in one last, sweet little kiss to his lips and jaw, smiling. “There we go, you look good as new.”
“Commandant, you are a tease.” He laughed (and as much as you hated to admit, but it made your stomach tickle with the butterflies), his thumb brushing your lips, lingering it there, “You should have said you wanted a kiss.”
“Where's the fun in that,” you confessed, kissing his thumb, “I'll fall for you more if I said it directly.”
Lee only smiled, one that only you are permitted to see, “I'll catch you if you do, then.”
I'm totally normal about Lee. no, totally not obsessed with the idea of Lee. no, I do not spend my imaginations about him like this. nope. totally not.
ANYWAYS I GOT HIM BEFORE 2023 ENDED SO NOW I LOVE HIM WAH TOO MUCH MWA
(first line is from one of his "Idle" voiceline)
— starry
#pgr#punishing gray raven#punishing gray raven imagines#pgr lee#pgr commandant#pgr global#pgr cn#lee brainrot because I GOT MY MAN#pgr hyperreal
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We thank you, Joe
Tonight is for you
Robert Reich
Aug 19, 2024
Friends,
Tonight’s opening of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago will be an opportunity for the Democratic Party and the nation to take stock of Joe Biden’s term of office and thank him for his service.
He still has five months to go as president, of course, but the baton has been passed.
Biden’s singular achievement has been to change the economic paradigm that reigned since Reagan and return to one that dominated public life between 1933 and 1980 — and is far superior to the one that has prevailed since.
Biden’s democratic capitalism is neither socialism nor “big government.” It is, rather, a return to an era when government organized the market for the greater good.
The Great Crash of 1929 followed by the Great Depression taught the nation a crucial lesson that we forgot after Reagan’s presidency: markets are human creations. The economy that collapsed in 1929 was the consequence of allowing nearly unlimited borrowing, encouraging people to gamble on Wall Street, and permitting the Street to take huge risks with other people’s money.
Franklin D. Roosevelt and his administration reversed this. They stopped the looting of America. They also gave Americans a modicum of economic security. During World War II, they put almost every American to work.
Subsequent Democratic and Republican administrations enlarged and extended democratic capitalism. Wall Street was regulated, as were television networks, airlines, railroads, and other common carriers. CEO pay was modest. Taxes on the highest earners financed public investments in infrastructure (such as the national highway system) and higher education.
America’s postwar industrial policy spurred innovation. The Department of Defense and its Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration developed satellite communications, container ships, and the internet. The National Institutes of Health did trailblazing basic research in biochemistry, DNA, and infectious diseases.
Public spending rose during economic downturns to encourage hiring. Antitrust enforcers broke up AT&T and other monopolies. Small businesses were protected from giant chain stores. Labor unions thrived. By the 1960s, a third of all private-sector workers were unionized. Large corporations sought to be responsive to all their stakeholders.
But then America took a giant U-turn. The OPEC oil embargo of the 1970s brought double-digit inflation followed by Fed Chair Paul Volcker’s effort to “break the back” of it by raising interest rates so high that the economy fell into deep recession.
All of which prepared the ground for Reagan’s war on democratic capitalism. From 1981 onward, a new bipartisan orthodoxy emerged that markets functioned well only if the government got out of the way.
The goal of economic policy thereby shifted from the common good to economic growth, even though Americans already well-off gained most from that growth. And the means shifted from public oversight of the market to deregulation, free trade, privatization, “trickle-down” tax cuts, and deficit reduction — all of which helped the monied interests make even more money.
The economy grew for the next 40 years, but median wages stagnated, and inequalities of income and wealth surged. In sum, after Reagan’s presidency, democratic capitalism — organized to serve public purposes — all but disappeared. It was replaced by corporate capitalism, organized to serve the monied interests.
**
Joe Biden revived democratic capitalism. He learned from the Obama administration’s mistake of spending too little to pull the economy out of the Great Recession that the pandemic required substantially greater spending, which would also give working families a cushion against adversity. So he pushed for and got the giant $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan.
This was followed by a $550 billion initiative to rebuild the nation’s bridges, roads, public transit, broadband, water, and energy systems. He championed the biggest investment in clean energy sources in American history — expanding wind and solar power, electric vehicles, carbon capture and sequestration, and hydrogen and small nuclear reactors. He then led the largest public investment ever made in semiconductors, the building blocks of the next economy. Notably, these initiatives were targeted to companies that employ American workers.
Biden also embarked on altering the balance of power between capital and labor, as had FDR. Biden put trustbusters at the head of the Federal Trade Commission and the Antitrust Division of the Justice Department. And he remade the National Labor Relations Board into a strong advocate for labor unions.
Unlike his Democratic predecessors Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, Biden did not reduce all trade barriers. He targeted them to industries that were crucial to America’s future — semiconductors, electric batteries, electric vehicles. Unlike Trump, Biden did not give a huge tax cut to corporations and the wealthy.
It’s also worth noting that, in contrast with every president since Reagan, Biden did not fill his White House with former Wall Street executives. Not one of his economic advisers — not even his treasury secretary — is from the Street.
The one large blot on Biden’s record is Benjamin Netanyahu. Biden should have been tougher on him — refusing to provide him offensive weapons unless Netanyahu stopped his massacre in Gaza. Yes, I know: Hamas began the bloodbath. But that is no excuse for Netanyahu’s disproportionate response, which has made Israel a pariah and endangered its future. Nor an excuse for our complicity.
***
One more thing needs to be said in praise of Joe Biden. He did something Donald Trump could never do: He put his country over ego, ambition, and pride. He bowed out with grace and dignity. He gave us Kamala Harris.
Presidents don’t want to bow out. Both Richard Nixon and Lyndon Johnson had to be shoved out of office. Biden was not forced out. He did nothing wrong. His problem is that he was old and losing some of the capacities that dwindle with old age.
Even among people who are not president, old age inevitably triggers denial. How many elderly people do you know who accept that they can’t do the things they used to do or think they should be able to do? How many willingly give up the keys to their car? It’s not surprising he resisted.
Yet Biden cares about America and was aware of the damage a second Trump administration could do to this nation, and to the world. Biden’s patriotism won out over any denial or wounded pride or false sense of infallibility or paranoia.
For this and much else, we thank you, Joe.
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I Will Never Make You Lonely: CH 3
Summary: When your life is falling apart, your 8 best friends are there to lift you up
TW: mentions of de&th, su!c!de, su!c!de tendencies, su!c!dal ideologies, depress!on, anxiety, crying. If this is in any way triggering I’d steer towards more of my happier works.
If you or someone you love has thought of or acted on suicide, there is help and there is hope
Call or text 988
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, non-idol AU
PSA: this is no way represents the artists. While their birth names are used in this story, this is in no way a reflection of the artist or artists in real life.
AU: mentions of de&th are implied in this chapter, read at your own risk.
Ch 3
A few days later, you were in your room, double-checking to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything important. Minho, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin came in early to bid you farewell and wished you a safe journey. They were sad that they couldn't accompany you as their schedules didn't permit them. Although you weren't going to be away for long, you were eagerly looking forward to your flight back to Seoul. As you packed your last-minute items such as your toothbrush, contact lenses, medication, etc., there was a soft knock at your door.
“Come in,” you answered. Changbin and Han peeked their heads in as the door slowly opened. They didn't have classes till later.
“Hey,” they greeted you with smiles.
“Hi,” you said.
“You all packed up?” Han asked. You nodded.
“Yeah, just packed up the last-minute stuff,” you said pointing to your toiletry bag that sat on top of your backpack. Changbin stepped forward.
“Well before you go, I didn’t want you to leave without this,” he said as he pulled out a squishmallow he had behind his back. It was a large taro boba squishmallow.
“What’s this?” you ask as you stare at it with adoration.
“We know you were talking about getting yourself one. We were going to give it to you on your birthday but decided maybe you needed it more now,” he said with a smile. You slowly accepted the squishmallow and you held it close.
“You guys are amazing, thank you,” you say sincerely, pulling them both into a hug. They would truly do anything to help you feel better. When it was time to leave, you saw Chris walking out of his room with his favorite sweatshirt in hand, ready to give it to you. You folded it and put it in your backpack along with the squishmallow. The boys hugged you goodbye and you left. The ride to the airport was terrible and the flight was worse. While the flight itself was smooth as can be, you couldn't sleep for the 12-hour flight, despite trying everything from listening to music, podcasts, and the ASMR links that Felix sent you, but Chris's sweatshirt and squishmallow provided some comfort. You curled up with them, feeling the scent of Chris's cologne. When you landed at SEATAC, you messaged Peyton and the boys to let them know you made it back.
It's The Spamming For Me
Me: Just landed in SEATAC
They all must’ve had their phones surgically glued to their hands because they all responded immediately.
Father of 7: glad you made it safely!
Cowife: eat and sleep well y/n!
Twin: miss you already!
Disney Prince: sleep well y/n, see you soon
BBG: sending you so many hugs
Angel Baby: you’re already missed!
Minnie Mouse: THE APARTMENT IS CHAOS COME BACK NOW
It's just a Little Guy: we love you y/n
You giggled at their messages as you quickly responded.
Me: I love you all too xoxo
After retrieving your bag, you headed towards the sky bridge that connects to the parking garage. Peyton was already there, waiting for you. Seeing only Peyton pick you up instead of her and Carter made your heart hurt, but you sucked it up and walked quickly over to Peyton. As soon as you were in each other’s arms, you could hear her sniffles, but you stayed strong for her. Peyton was Carter's only legal guardian, so you had to be there for her.
“How was your flight?” she sniffed as she helped you with your backpack. You shrugged.
“Fine, I guess…I didn’t exactly sleep,” you said scratching your neck. As you both walked towards the parking garage, she threw an arm around you. She then threw your backpack into the backseat before starting the engine. The drive to Peyton's place was quiet and uneventful. Once you arrived, you tossed your belongings onto the bed in the spare bedroom. While you were unpacking, Peyton walked in with two glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“It probably isn’t ideal, but Carter would’ve done it for either of us,” she said with a slight smile. You snorted because yes, Carter would’ve 110% gotten plastered the night before either of their funerals. The two of you made your way to the balcony and plopped yourselves down on the couch. Even though you felt like crap, there was a gentle breeze and at least the stars were out, and the skyline was gorgeous.
“How have you been?” Peyton asked. You shrugged.
“It’s been a rollercoaster for sure,” you said, swirling your glass. Peyton nodded.
“But how about you?” you ask. You had no right to be feeling the way Peyton felt. That’s what you told yourself at least.
“I can’t bring myself to even sit in the living room sometimes,” she says looking down at her glass. You nodded; Carter used to always sleep on the couch when she’d stay the night, claiming it was comfier than Peyton’s bed.
“I’m sure the guys have been there for you?” Peyton asked before sipping her wine. You smiled.
“Yeah, they’ve been nothing but amazing. One night I had been up for almost 72 hours cause I couldn’t sleep and I was studying, but the guys got me to participate in our weekly Friday night movie marathon night, and I ended up getting a decent amount of sleep.” Peyton smiled at that.
“It’s nice having friends like that,” she said genuinely; she was a little concerned though. She could sense you were distracting yourself more than just feeling the emotions. The thought of your boys made your heart sing.
“They’re the best…,” you said before taking a swig of your wine as Peyton watched.
“Damn down the hatch,” she says with a wet chuckle.
You spent the rest of the night with your friend, sharing your favorite memories of Carter. It was a way to remember her, especially the stories you wouldn't dare tell at the funeral. The day of the funeral came around too quickly. You woke up feeling heavy-hearted, wrapped in Chris's hoodie, holding a plush toy close to your chest. It took all your strength to get out of bed and ready for the funeral. You couldn't believe you were preparing to say goodbye to your best friend.
You tried to remain composed for the sake of Carter's family. The funeral went by in a blur, and you were grateful there was no open casket. It helped you stay strong for everyone, but you couldn't help denying the fact that Carter was in that casket, about to be buried six feet under. You tried to push the thought out of your mind, but it kept coming back.
You let your friends know you needed to study at your apartment for a few days, but you'd be back soon. They understood and said you were always welcome to come back. When it was time for you to leave, you said goodbye to Peyton and sent a text to your friends to let them know you were heading home. You knew you couldn't stay in the States any longer without it feeling too real.
It's The Spamming For Me
Me: I’m heading home
Father of 7: have a safe flight y/n!
Twin: see you soon!
Disney Prince: xoxoxo!
BBG: Minho and I wish you safe travels!
Angel Baby: YAY! Get back safely, I need my cuddle buddy!
Minnie Mouse: Have a safe flight! Jeongin says hurry back and save him from Minho
The second you stepped foot in your place, it didn’t feel right. You pulled out your phone and dialed the first name in your contacts list.
While he was in the shower, Chris’s phone started ringing.
“Hannie, can you grab that for me please?” Chris called out. Han grabbed the phone and checked who it was before answering.
“Chris’s phone, his favorite child speaking,” Han joked, pretty proud of himself.
“Yah!” Chris scolded but with a big smile plastered on his face. You snorted.
“Felix?” You said biting your lip trying not to laugh. Han’s eyes went huge.
“YAH!” He yelled even louder. Chris laughed as he did his best not to get water in his eyes from leaning so far back. You shook your head.
“Can I come over? I was going to study at my place but I need a change of scenery,” you say playing with your shirt.
“You don’t have to ask y/n, you're always welcome,” Han said sincerely. You smiled at that.
“Okay, I’ll see you guys soon then!” You said enthusiastically.
“See you soon!” He said before hanging up. He set the phone down and looked at Chris.
“Y/n is coming over so get unnaked,” he said jokingly before going to open the door. Chris laughed.
“She lives 10 min from us. I think I have time!” Chris shouted back with a big smile on his face. You kept your composure when you walked in, despite the lump in your throat upon opening their door. All of the boys greeted and chatted with you briefly before you retreated to your room. Instead of unpacking and relaxing, you decided to work on your computer. Despite not getting any sleep on the flight, you felt that you should be productive. It was around 9 pm, and although you were exhausted, you didn't want to think about the funeral. While reading case studies, you came across one that deeply affected you. It made your heartache. This particular case study caused one of the subjects to take their own life because of the trauma they went through. Once you were about to finish writing a sentence, you got a call from Carter’s sister.
“Hey Peyton,” you say as you continue typing. You heard sniffling on the other line.
“Pey? Shit did I forget to let you know I made it back??” You ask. You heard her take a shaky exhale before speaking.
“No no, you did…um…I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to say it. Y/n…Carter’s death wasn’t an accident,” she choked out. Your eyes went huge.
“What do you mean?” You ask frantically. You were hoping with every fiber of your being it wasn’t what you thought it was.
“I was sitting in her room and I…I found a letter…” and your heart stopped.
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taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow
#stray kids#stray kids x stay#skz fanfic#christopher bang#lee minho#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#skz angst#college au#stray kids college au#non idol au
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A oneshot Best Jeanist x f! OC fic.
Just say no? I don't understand what the problem here is?
Nia glared at the phone screen before typing her response. Her friend wasn't wrong, but was missing the nuances of her current predicament.
Because I don't want to hurt his feelings?
Bubbles popped up almost instantly from Aya, indicating that the woman was typing a response.
Well do you want to fluff your "no" to be nicer, or do you want to wear jeans all day in a hot, stuffy room?
Nia threw her phone on the bed, the device landing facedown on her duvet. The sun wasn't up yet, and the city below remained muted. The city was never really quiet, but it could whisper. Her bedside lamp light cast her shadow against the wall as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to prepare herself for what she expected was coming.
The day was guaranteed to be a long one which would require her attention late into the evening. She was a journalist covering the Hero Billboard Chart event. Luckily journalism was a written media which permitted her comforts that TV reporters did not have. Such as wearing comfortable, cozy clothing to the event. Jeans did not sound comfortable today.
The forecast said it would be a hot day, and the event would be packed like it was every year. Jeans felt too stuffy for the day ahead. Her boyfriend would also be in attendance but, at her insistence, would not be seated near her. She had to focus on work - his presence had a history of making that difficult. Reporters were always looking for his comment on the yearly rankings. Being the former #3 hero had a way of getting noticed, moreso at hero events.
"My darling denim?" Her boyfriend appeared in the doorframe, sporting a familiar outfit of denim. "Breaking out the coat, I see." Nia smirked at the blonde who leaned casually in the doorframe. "It seems I'll be wearing sufficient denim for us both." He remarked, looking at the tights that clung to her body.
"Well, it's going to be a long day. Thought I'd wear something stretchy." Tsunagu furrowed their brow at the comment, pushing off from the doorframe to stand tall. "Denim may start stiff but quickly gets soft and pliable. Like those tights, but better." Nia continued grabbing the items she'd need to record her observations and thoughts. Voice recorded, pens, journal, tablet. Sometimes taking physical notes just made sense, other times it proved impossible. She was going to be prepared however the day turned out and write a great article about it.
"Darling," Tsunagu's voice brought Nia back to their conversation. "I can help soften the fabric for you, if you-"
"Why are you doing this?" Nia turned, annoyance prominent in her voice. "Why do you always do this when I'm covering a major story?" Tsunagu looked taken aback at her question. "Do what?" He wasn't sure what she was referring to. The offer to soften her clothing was one he gave freely - or to mend or alter any garment she desired. His quirk had made him a great hero but he took a special joy from the glee on his girlfriends face when he made something fit her just right.
"I'm always happy to change your clothing for you. Your body is the most beautiful thing to display any textile on." Nia turned her attention back to her bag, tossing another pen into it's hazardous pocket. "No, the wearing jeans thing." She opened the drawer to her beside table and tossed a pocket container of kleenex and a flashlight in, just in case. Better to be prepared.
"What wearing jeans thing?"
"You always want me to wear jeans when I'm working a big story. I like denim. I just don't love it the way you do." Tsunagu reflected on the past few stories she'd been tasked with covering. "Before I left for the opening of the new mall, you asked if I wanted to trial a pair of jeans you'd just made. The time before that you insisted I needed a jean jacket."
"It was a fall day, and denim is part of the motif."
"Why?" Nia asked, finally satisfied with her preparation for the day. She managed to get the purses' zipper closed, although she was no longer as confident in the inseam integrity. She watched as her boyfriend looked at the bulging accessory before raising a hand to it. "Why does it matter so much to you? You never care what I wear except when I'm working."
"I want to make sure I can help you quickly, if needed. I want to believe the places you're working are safe, but-" Tsunagu quickly reinforced the seam of her purse, the fabric suddenly clinging tightly shut.
"But sometimes things don't go as planned." She finished the statement for him in a sigh. Nia had never been hurt in her time as a journalist. She had, unfortunately, been in the vicinity of some villain events. With the state of the world and her job involving observing and reporting on larger events it seemed unavoidable. Villains would always try and capitalize on the media coverage that these events would naturally garnered. "I guess it was good I didn't end up covering that concert." Nia conceded, remembering how the venue had been bombed. It was an assignment initially given to her, but had been reassigned at the last minute.
Thinking about Tsunagu's frantic voicemail still made her feel terrible. She hadn't informed him of the last minute reassignment and the man had been understandably panicked when he heard the news of the explosion, unaware that she was in a different area of the city entirely.
"Denim is the fabric I'm best at working with. If something were to happen, I could help you more efficiently."
"Nothing is going to happen, Tsunagu. Who would attack a building full of heroes? There are going to be both active and retired heroes in attendance. They'd have to be crazy." Nia grabbed his hand, smiling at the blonde, jean clad man who towered over her. "You don't need to worry about helping me."
"The need to ensure your safety is sewn into my core." Tsunagu brushed a strand of stray white hair from Nia's face before pulling her into a hug. "And since I can't ensure it there, I will ensure I can assist you if something were to fray."
Nia smiled at the mans words. She hadn't expected that answer, but was warmed at the amount of care it showed. "How about this- Could you cover my bracelet in denim?" Tsunagu gently released Nia from his embrace to get a closer look at the broad band that adored her wrist. The golden color was quickly enrobed in dark blue, the fabric soft against her wrist.
"Where did you even get the fabric from?" She questioned, looking over his outfit for any missing pieces. The high collar of his coat covered his mouth, but the twinkle in his eye let her know Tsunagu was smiling. He opened his coat enough to display a missing piece of denim from over his heart.
"While I appreciate your comprimise, you're neglecting to consider one key feature, my darling denim."
"Oh? Nia questioned as she ran her finger over the soft fabric that was freshly stitched to her accessory, entranced by the feeling. Tsunagu had been right - the fabric definitely got softer over time.
"Pockets."
The idea popped into my head and would not give me peace until I wrote it down. If you enjoyed it, take a gander at my other works.
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