#interest-based bargaining

[strialternatives]

bonus:

:inhales and slams hands on the desk: akechi. palace. pitch.

disclaimer: the setting for this is all about vibes and aesthetics, it kinda got away from me when i started hashing out the plot around it two months ago so now we're here. in hell. (i'll probably have to make a secondary post i made wayyy too many concepts,)

yes i made an ost for this idea, here is a youtube playlist of chill european jazz

AU details under the cut-

Akechi Goro's palace is "Ampitheatrum Doloris”.

KEYWORDS: Akechi Goro, Tokyo Highcourt, Amphitheater

Akechi's psyche is a massive collection of locked doors, puzzles, and contradictions. He wants to be seen but not understood—heard but never known, ect. This makes his palace infiltration a waking nightmare (affectionate).

His palace is made up of five main layers. They each mirror a stage of grief:

1) There is the outer layer of with the appearance of a Venice-esque water canal maze, there is a door that must be opened to reach the entrance to infiltrate the second layer underneath the amphitheater. The puzzle's actually pretty sentimental and revolves around Akechi's interest in literature.

(This layer is depression, Goro mourns what he lost and the fact that the choices he made for the sake of revenge ultimately led to nowhere. This is reflected in how desolate/meandering the outer layer feels, it is the largest and most time consuming part of the palace for this reason. It takes weeks to finish. AKA, Akira and Morgana have a terrible, no good, very bad month of May.) 

2) The Labyrinth under the amphitheater; it is full of shadows for the arena champion to use as fodder for the enjoyment of the masses. ‘Loki’ resides here—this layer’s theme loosely plays on the Minotaur myth. 

The only way to escape is through a pulley/elevator mechanism which leads to the surface after shattering the Champion’s chains by force. Loki taunts in Old Norse, but gives Akira (and the party by extension) genuine hints on how to escape.

(This layer is anger, Goro is always angry, about the hand he’s been dealt, the futility of his own actions, and the fact that his life has always been a dead end, written in the stars.)

3) The Audience Stands; full of human cognitions and Akechi’s former clients and fans, despite everything, like Sae, he sees them as ‘people’ and is disgusted by them. Their compliments are shallow and empty, surface level like Goro’s facade. Cognition Sae is delegated to a middle manager-type role, and leads Akira and Co. through puzzles.

Different cognitions from Akechi’s shitshow of a childhood throw riddles based around philosophy and the nature of justice at the party, if the answer is ‘wrong’, there’s a mini-boss fight. Answering everything correctly yields a prize—a key, this process is made difficult by all of Robin’s ‘hints’ (which the Thieves can directly ask for) being lies.

(Bargaining. Goro always thought he could still salvage his revenge despite his enemy being essentially invincible, even now deep down he thinks he can salvage all the effort and sacrifices he put in.)

4) The Stage; Robin Hood appears proper instead of in cameo appearances, this is the lead actor's stage. To earn the right to stand with him, Akira has to have to prove his worth in one-on-one combat while showing the crowd a rousing show. The goal is to use the key obtained in the bargaining layer to unlock the Performer's cuffs.

(Denial, Goro doesn’t believe he needs or deserves saving or a life outside of his revenge, he believes there is no other way forward.)

Hereward and the 'treasure' are in the Imperial box area, which I'll save for part 2 of this I think! The second half of this'll have less focus on the environments and more on general plot and character design.

EDIT: here's part two and part three

[skyguytoast]

Swipe Right for Trouble - Dilf!Anakin x you

SYNOPSIS: Dilf!Anakin joins a dating site and comes away with more than he bargained for.

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: +18, infidelity, cheating, age gap (Anakin is in his 40s and the reader is of legal age), sexting, both masturbating over video call, daddy kink

A/N: Hello everyone, this idea came to me out of nowhere and kept on hammering in my mind until I wrote it. I hope you like it, comments, reblogs and suggestions are always appreciated, kisses ;) Dividers by @cafekitsune

Sexting isn’t cheating.

Anakin repeated the thought like a mantra as he filled out the registration form. Technically, this wasn’t even a dating site. From what he’d read, it was more of a… transactional arrangement—an online space where men could chat with young women, spoil them with gifts, and, in return, receive whatever favors both parties agreed upon.  

It wasn’t as if his marriage had collapsed overnight. That would have been easier to accept. No, it had been a slow, agonizing unraveling, a gradual drift until the distance between him and Padmé felt impossible to bridge. He couldn’t only blame her long hours at work or the way exhaustion made intimacy rare. He was just as guilty—guilty of giving up, of letting the silence stretch between them for too long, of resigning himself to wanting more but never asking for it.  

Regret was useless now.  

He exhaled sharply, scrolling through the feed. Most of the profiles were deliberately vague—faceless photos, silhouettes, glimpses of lips, collarbones, and hands. The usernames were just as cryptic, an endless parade of Kitten, Doll, and Baby designed to keep things impersonal.  

Then, one caught his eye.  

The photo showed nothing but a cascade of silky hair and a princess tiara perched atop it. Something about it—the soft, innocent playfulness—made him pause. Bunny. The name made him smirk. Cute.  

A second later, the screen blinked. MATCH.

Anakin’s lips parted slightly. That was… fast. His stomach twisted, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What the hell was he supposed to say? How do you start a conversation like this?  

A sharp ding cut through his hesitation.  

You had messaged him first.

Anakin rubbed his jaw, still slightly in disbelief that he had actually gone through with this. It wasn't like him to engage in such... base activities. Especially not now. But his marriage had grown so distant, and he needed something—someone—to fill that void.

Just take a deep breath and respond, he told himself as he clicked on your message.

Bunny: Hi there, stranger~

Anakin blinked at the casual greeting, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Stranger? He chuckled softly to himself, realizing that, in this context, that was exactly what you were. Two anonymous figures behind a screen, playing a game neither of you had fully defined yet.  

Hi yourself, he typed back, trying to match your easy tone. I like your tiara. It suits you.  

The response didn’t come immediately, and in those few seconds, doubt crept in. Was he being too forward? Too personal? Was this a place for compliments, for flirting—or just for transactions?  

Bunny: I like shiny things… and pink.

Short. Coy. Playful. The way you phrased it made something tighten in his chest. A flicker of amusement, curiosity, something dangerously close to interest.  

I’ll remember that, he replied, his fingers moving with a newfound ease. Do you have a favorite shade of pink?

It was a simple question, innocent on the surface, but it carried weight. He wanted to keep you talking, wanted the conversation to stretch just a little longer. This was a break from reality, from work, from duty. A moment that felt light, free.  

Bunny: Uhm… mostly pastel colors… ballerina pink, bubblegum pink. 

He was about to type a response when another message popped up.  

Bunny: Do you want me to send you the color hex so you don’t get my gift wrong?

Anakin laughed softly at the dig, shaking his head. So you had a sharp wit. He liked that.  

No need for that, he typed back. I have a good eye for color. And I’m not planning on buying you a gift just yet.

There. He had said it—acknowledged the possibility of yet, of something more. It was a dangerous game, but one he was suddenly very willing to play.  

Unless… He hesitated just long enough to let anticipation build. Unless you’d like to earn one first?

The reply came quicker than he expected.  

Bunny: And what exactly do you want from me to deserve it?

A slow smirk spread across his lips. He had a feeling this conversation was only just getting started.

Anakin swallowed hard, a pulse of heat rolling through him at your bold question. He could feel it—something deep and dangerous stirring inside him—but he didn’t look away from the screen. Instead, he leaned in, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he considered his next words carefully.

Well, for starters… He typed slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation stretch. Tell me more about you.

It was a simple request on the surface, but the words carried weight, unspoken possibilities.

What does a cute little bunny like you do for fun?

His lips curled into a smirk as he hit send, already wondering just how far you'd be willing to take this game.

But you didn’t answer right away. 

Anakin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Damn it. Maybe that was stupid. Cringe—wasn’t that the word people your age used? The last thing he wanted was to come off like some awkward old man trying too hard. 

Before he could spiral further, his screen lit up with a new message. 

Bunny: I love going to amusement parks—feeling my hair fly on the roller coaster, the Ferris wheel, the carousel…

Anakin smirked, the tension in his chest easing. There was something so effortlessly sweet about that answer, something playful. Of course you liked amusement parks. He could almost picture it—the wind in your hair, the sparkle in your eyes as you laughed on a ride. 

And just like that, he wanted to know more.

Is that so? he typed back, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I'll have to keep that in mind. Maybe I'll take you to a park sometime... among other things.

He paused, letting that statement linger on the screen. Let you wonder, let your imagination run wild. He certainly knew his was.

Tell me, do you have a favorite ride? he asked. One that really gets your adrenaline pumping?

Bunny: Probably the Ferris wheel, I love going there several times... I'm a little scared of the ghost train, however, I might try it if you promise to hold my hand.

A light blush crept across Anakin's cheeks as he read her message, a small smile tugging at his lips. Of course, a Ferris wheel was your favorite. He could picture it now—you sitting beside him, your shoulders brushing as you slowly rotated at the top, looking out over the park and the rest of the world spread out below you.

Don't worry, he typed, his fingers moving almost eagerly across the screen. I'd hold your hand through anything.

He paused, then added playfully, Besides, I think I'm pretty good at killing ghosts. Both the real kind and the fictional ones.

Your response was immediate.

Bunny: Oh, that’s good to know because I think my room might be haunted. Maybe you could come take a look?

Anakin sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. Gosh, you’re being so flirty.

Not that he minded. Not one bit.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to read your flirtatious message again. His smirk grew wider.

Well then, he replied, a playful lilt to his words. It looks like I'll have to schedule an investigation soon.

He paused, letting the innuendo linger for a moment. But he didn't stop there.

Of course, you know that ghost hunting can be quite...intense work. It may require a thorough search of every room. Every surface.

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. There was something about you, a freshness and boldness that drew him in.

Bunny: in my bed too? even under the covers?

Anakin's heart raced as he read your brazen message, a flood of improper thoughts rushing through his mind. The image of you tangled in the sheets, perhaps already flushed and breathless before he even arrived, was too much to ignore.

Especially under the covers, he typed back, not holding anything back. You never know where a ghost might hide, after all. I'll have to search everywhere, just to be safe.

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. Then added one final line.

And I'll make sure to check every inch thoroughly. For any...abnormalities.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

As the days passed, your messages became more frequent, more daring. What started as playful teasing had turned into something else—something charged, something electric.  

The flirting was relentless, a slow, delicious game neither of you wanted to stop. Anakin knew he was toeing the line, but God help him, he didn’t care. You were intoxicating—the way you teased him, the way you played innocent one moment and wicked the next.  

And every time his screen lit up with a new message from you, he felt that same rush, that same heat pooling low in his stomach.  

You had him hooked.

He knew he should put an end to this, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. It was like a drug, a dangerous high he didn't want to come down from.

Tell me... he paused, his fingers hesitating for only a moment. What do you usually sleep in at night? Or out of...

Anakin's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the image loaded. The dim light of his quarters cast an intimate glow across his face, a face flushed with a growing heat that had nothing to do with the temperature. He leaned in closer, squinting to make out every exquisite detail of the photo, his eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin of your shoulders, the way the thin strap of your nightgown clung precariously to your frame.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched, almost in slow motion, the strap slipping ever so slightly. He felt his mouth go dry, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as anticipation built inside him like a palpable force. And then, like a revelation, he caught sight of the swell of your breast, the tantalizing curve that promised so much more if only he could see just a little further.

Bunny: do you like to see more?

Fuck, he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire. I'd love to see more.

You send another message.

Anakin's heart raced as he stared at the image on his screen, his breath growing ragged. The sight of you kneeling there, clutching at the fabric of your nightgown, teasing him with a glimpse of the lace barely covering your butt, sent a jolt of lust straight to his aching cock.

Sweetheart, you're playing with fire, he typed, his fingers trembling slightly as they flew over the keys. Keep this up and I might just burn in the flames.

He palmed himself through his pants, unable to ignore the growing bulge that strained against the confines of his clothing. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, but he resisted. He wanted to savor this moment, to draw out the delicious torture of anticipation.

What else do you want to show me? he asked. Where else would you like my eyes to wander?

Bunny: Uhm, I don't know, maybe you could buy me a lingerie set to wear just for you

Anakin's eyes darkened with lust as he read your suggestion, his mind racing with the possibilities. The idea of you modeling lingerie just for him, a matching set in a soft, delicate shade of pink, was almost too much to bear.

I think I'd like that very much, he replied. What color would you prefer? I'm thinking something soft and sexy, maybe a shade of pink to match your sweet smile.

He palmed himself more firmly through his pants, his cock throbbing beneath his touch. The urge to whip out his length and stroke himself to completion was strong, but he held back, wanting to make this moment last.

And maybe... he paused, letting the anticipation build. You could send me a picture of what you'd look like in it. Give me a little preview of what's to come.

Bunny: you know my address to send

Anakin couldn't keep the grin off his face as he hit the 'Confirm Purchase' button, his heart racing with anticipation. He had splurged on the most beautiful lingerie set he could find—the perfect shade of bubblegum pink, soft and shimmery, with delicate lace detailing. He couldn't wait to see it clinging to your curves, highlighting every inch of your gorgeous body.

I took your suggestion and one upped it, he typed, smirking to himself. It should be arriving at your doorstep tomorrow. I hope you like it as much as I think you will.

He paused, his mind already filling with the filthy images of your modeling it just for him.

Send me a picture as soon as you put it on. I want to see how stunning you look.

The next day, the first message was from you.

Bunny: Oh baby, I love it, give me a minute to put on my lingerie and we can do a video call

Anakin's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he read your response. A video call—that would be even better than any photo. He could see you, really see you, in the lingerie he had bought just for you.

I can't wait to see you in it, he typed back, his fingers shaking slightly. Meet me on a video call in 5 minutes.

He ended the message with a winking emoji, his mind already racing with the possibilities. The room was dim, the lighting soft and intimate, perfect for a private show. He could already picture you, perched on the edge of your bed, the pink lace clinging to your curves in all the right places. 

Anakin took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He had to get his head in the game, had to remember that this was just a bit of fun, a distraction from his marriage's problems and the weight of his responsibilities. It didn't mean anything. 

But even as he told himself that, he knew it was a lie. This meant something, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on what. All he knew was that he wanted more of you, and he would do whatever it took to get it.

Anakin locked the bedroom door, exhaling slowly as he leaned against it. He mentally thanked Padmé for the extra shift—how ironic. Not long ago, her long hours had been a source of frustration, the widening gap between them something he resented.

And yet here he was, grateful for the distance.

Grateful for the excuse.

His fingers hovered over his phone, anticipation thrumming through him. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He knew this was dangerous.

But when your name lit up his screen, all reason faded.

Anakin took a deep breath as he tapped the button to accept the video call, his heart pounding in his chest. The screen flickered to life, and there you were—stunning, breathtaking, even more gorgeous than he had imagined.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, clad in the lingerie he had purchased just for this moment. The soft pink lace clung to every curve, highlighting the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the tempting flare of your hips. It was everything he had hoped for and more.

“Fuck, you look incredible,” he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire. “That color was made for you.”

He couldn't take his eyes off you, drinking in every detail. The way the lace seemed to shimmer in the soft light, the way it hinted at the treasures hidden beneath. He felt his cock twitch and harden, straining against the confines of his pants. 

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he instructed, his voice a low command. “Let me see all of you.”

You smiled amusedly. "Like this" you said happily, turning to show every bit of your skin to him.

Anakin's breath caught in his throat as you spun around, putting yourself on display just for him. The way the lingerie clung to your every curve was mesmerizing, the delicate lace accentuating your breasts, your toned belly, the gentle flare of your hips, and the tantalizing globes of your ass. He couldn't look away, his eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of exposed skin.

“Fuck, you're stunning,” he breathed. “I can't believe I bought that just for you. You look good enough to eat.”

He palmed himself through his pants, unable to ignore the ache of his hardening cock. The urge to reach down and free himself was overwhelming, but he resisted—for now. He wanted to savor this moment, to drink in every detail of your heavenly beauty.

“Lie back on the bed for me,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding. “Spread your legs, and show me what's mine.”

"Oh, baby, you're so bossy," you retorted softly, before biting your lower lip mischievously, adjusting your phone before approaching the bed. "But, I kind of like your dominant ways."

Anakin felt a thrill run through him at your playful words, his cock twitching in approval. He loved seeing this side of you, bold and teasing, more than eager to obey his every command. It was intoxicating, addictive, and he knew he could easily become drunk on the power.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble as he watched you adjust your phone and get in the bed. “You're going to be so perfect for me.”

He drank in the sight of you settling onto the mattress, the soft pink lace a stark contrast against the white fabric. His heart raced as you slowly spread your legs, revealing more of your smooth, creamy thighs, the lace of your panties riding up to showcase the junction between your legs.

“That's it, sweetheart. Nice and slow,” he encouraged, his eyes glued to the screen, not wanting to miss a single second of your tantalizing display. “Show me everything you have to offer.”

Anakin's breath hitched as he watched you slip your delicate hand beneath the lace, his cock throbbing almost painfully against his pants. The sight of you touching yourself, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, was almost too much to bear. He could see the growing damp spot on your panties, evidence of your arousal, and it made him ache to be the one to bring you to the edge of ecstasy.

“You're so beautiful like this,”he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “Don't stop touching yourself. I want to watch you.”

He couldn't tear his eyes away from your hand moving beneath the fabric, imagining how soft and smooth your folds were, how wet and ready you were becoming. His own hand drifted down to palm himself more firmly through his pants, squeezing and stroking along the hard length of his cock.

“Tell me how it feels,” he commanded, his voice a low, urgent growl. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to know everything.”

"I'm so wet for you, my fingers are slipping so easily" you whimpered, touching yourself, sighs of pleasure escaping your mouth.

Anakin groaned as he listened to your breathy words, the sound of your pleasure shooting straight to his aching cock. He could picture your fingers gliding effortlessly through your slick folds, your body responding to your own touch, preparing itself for him. The knowledge that he was the cause of your arousal was intoxicating, fueling his own desire.

‘Is that so?” he growled, his hand drifting to the fastenings of his pants. “I can hear how much you're enjoying yourself. How wet you're getting just from my command.”

He popped open the button of his pants, freeing his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the head already glistening with precum. He wrapped a hand around his throbbing shaft, squeezing and stroking himself in time with the rhythm of your breathy sighs.

“Touch your pretty pussy, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, dominating rumble. “Rub those pretty little circles around it, nice and slow. Pretend it's my fingers touching you, pleasuring you.”

"Your fingers are so much bigger than mine, they would feel so good in my pussy," you whimpered.

 Anakin's breath grew ragged as he listened to the obscene sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your dripping cunt, your sweet little whimpers and sighs filling the air. His cock throbbed and leaked in his hand as he picked up the pace, stroking himself faster in time with the slick sounds of your touching.

“Fuck, I'd love to sink my fingers deep inside your tight little pussy,” he groaned, his voice strained with lust. “To feel your velvety walls squeezing around me as I pump in and out.”

He could only imagine how perfect you would feel, how hot and wet and ready you would be for him. His cock ached with the desire to plunge into your depths, to stretch you open and claim you as his own.

“Slick your clit with your juices,” he commanded, his breath coming faster now. “Get it nice and wet, just like your hungry little hole. Pretend it's my tongue, teasing and circling as I taste your sweet cum.”

You moaned, your hair spreading across the sheets as you rubbed yourself harder. "tell me what to do, tell me what your good girl needs to do?"

Anakin's heart raced as he watched you come undone on the screen, your hair splayed across the sheets, your hips rocking against your hand as you rubbed yourself with wanton desperation. Your breathy moans and whimpers filled his ears, spurring on his own desperate stroking.

"You're being such a good girl for me," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Touching yourself just like I told you to. So eager and obedient."

He could see how soaked your panties were, the lace darkened with your juices, your pussy aching to be filled. His cock throbbed in his fist, the head flushed a deep, angry red, leaking steadily now.

"Take off your bra," he ordered, his voice a commanding rumble. "I want to see your perfect tits bouncing free. Play with your nipples as you fuck yourself with your fingers."

Anakin's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the perfect sight of your breasts spilling free from your bra, the delicate pink of your nipples a perfect match to the lingerie that hugged your curves. They were even more beautiful than he had imagined, full and round, the peaks already hardened into tight little buds just beginning to be touched.

"Your tits are perfect," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Even better than I dreamed they would be."

He tightened his grip around his throbbing cock, pumping himself faster as he watched you on the screen. The sight of you touching yourself, playing with your dripping cunt and your perfect breasts, was almost too much to bear.

"Pinch your nipples," he commanded, his voice a low, dominating growl. "Roll and tug on them, just like I would with my fingers. Imagine it's my mouth, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh."

He could only imagine the taste of you, the feeling of your hardened nubs against his tongue as he sucked and teased, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. His cock throbbed in his hand, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he watched you pleasure yourself just for him.

With one hand you squeezed your breast, pinching the nipple until it hardened completely, without ever stopping touching yourself. "Uhm, talk dirty to me, tell me what you're doing, what my body makes you feel."

Anakin groaned as he watched you touch yourself with wild abandon. "I'm stroking my hard, aching cock as I watch you. Watching you play with your perfect tits, squeezing and pinching those pretty pink nipples until they're stiff peaks."

"I can feel every inch of you, even from here. The way your tight little pussy clenches around your fingers as you fuck yourself, so desperate for more. The way your breasts bounce and jiggle as you touch yourself, just the way I want to touch them."

He pumped his cock faster, the slick sounds of his stroking filling the air. "I'm imagining burying my face between your legs, my tongue delving deep into your sweet cunt. Licking up every drop of your juices, fucking you with my tongue until you scream."

"I want to bite down on your nipples, to mark you as mine. I want to suck and tease until you're writhing beneath me, begging for more. Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his breath ragged and intense. "What does my good girl need?"

"I want to cum, daddy." You whimpered, confused in your haze of pleasure, taking a few seconds to realize what had slipped from your tongue.

"Daddy?" Anakin retorted, his deep voice filling your room and making you open your eyes, your cheeks flushing.

Anakin froze, his heart pounding in his chest as the words echoed in his ears. Daddy. It had slipped out, a moment of unguarded passion and desperation. For a moment, he felt a pang of unease, a flicker of doubt. This was wrong, he knew it was. He was crossing a line, one that he shouldn't be crossing.

"I'm sorry, I, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," you mumbled nervously.

But as he looked at you on the screen, flushed and panting, your gorgeous body on display just for him, he felt his resolution crumble. He wanted you, more than anything. And if you wanted to call him daddy, if that's what got you off...

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he soothed, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "I like it. I like it a lot."

He stroked himself slower, more deliberately, putting on a show for you. "Tell me what you want daddy to do to you."

He wanted to hear you say it, to put voice to the filthy, forbidden thoughts running through your mind. He wanted to be the one to bring you to the edge, to make you scream and shake and cum harder than you ever had before.

"Beg for it, baby. Beg daddy to make you cum."

"Please, daddy, I want to cum so bad, I want you to guide me, let your voice take me to heaven" you whine, feeling the descent of your hips warming up.

Anakin's heart raced as he listened to your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing and pulsing in his hand. The way you said daddy, the need and longing in your voice, it set him on fire. He stroked himself faster, the slick sounds of his hand pumping his shaft filling the room.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for it like that," he groaned, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Like a needy little girl begging her daddy to take care of her."

He could feel your desperation, the way your hips were rocking and grinding against your fingers, chasing your climax. He wanted to be the one to give it to you, to feel your cunt clench and flutter around his cock as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Focus on my voice, baby. Let it guide you, take you higher," he commanded, his breath coming faster now. "Imagine it's my hands on your body, touching and stroking every inch of you."

"Fuck yourself harder, sweetheart. Shove your fingers deep inside your greedy little cunt. Imagine it's my cock, stretching you open, filling you up." Anakin murmured, his voice husky and engaging. "Let yourself go, baby. Cum for daddy. Cum all over your fingers like the good little girl you are. Let me hear you scream."

Anakin grunted and shuddered as he watched you come undone, your body convulsing on the screen as the intense waves of your climax crashed over you. The sound of your scream, raw and primal, filled the air as you cried out his name, your pussy clenching and fluttering around your fingers in ecstasy.

"Fuck yes, that's it! Cum for daddy, baby! Cum hard on your fingers like a good girl," he roared, his own orgasm surging through him as he stroked himself to completion. Thick ropes of hot, sticky seeds erupted from his cock, spurting onto his hand and stomach as he rode out the intense pleasure.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, drinking in every second of your pleasure, the way your gorgeous tits bounced and jiggled as you writhed and bucked beneath your own touch. He felt a surge of male pride and possessiveness, knowing that he had brought you to such heights of ecstasy.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you cum for me," he breathed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Such a perfect, perfect good girl for daddy."

"And this is just the beginning, sweetheart. Wait until I get my hands on you for real."

"I'll wait, daddy," you whimpered, your eyes blinking back to focus on his face after your mind-blowing orgasm. "I'll count the days until it happens."

Anakin's heart raced as he heard your breathless promise, a thrill running through him at the thought of the forbidden future that lay ahead. The knowledge that you would be waiting for him, eager and ready, made his spent cock twitch and started to fill and harden once more.

"I'll be counting down the days too, baby girl," he murmured. "Already thinking about all the naughty, filthy things I'm going to do to this sexy little body of yours."

He took in the sight of you, flushed and panting, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat from your intense climax. The lingerie you wore, the lingering desire for you... it was all seared into his mind, a deliciously sinful memory to treasure.

"But for now, you should get some rest, sweetheart. Recover your strength. Because when I finally have you in my arms, I'm going to need you at your best. I'm going to fuck you in ways you've never been fucked before."

He reached out to caress the screen, wishing he could feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. "Sweet dreams, my little girl. Dream of daddy, and all the dirty, wonderful things we're going to do together."

"Until next time," he promised darkly, before ending the call with a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

[wiseavenuesuit]

The dark interests behind America’s “LGBT money politics”

In today's American society, the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) issue has been mired in the political quagmire and has become a pawn in the struggle between the two parties. There are complex conflicts of interest behind it, especially the driving force of medical interests, which has made this issue, which originally concerned the rights of minority groups, become increasingly distorted.

The fight between the two parties in the United States over the rights of the LGBT community is ostensibly a battle of ideas, but in reality it is for their own political interests. The Republican Party often uses the guise of "protecting traditional values" and "protecting minors" to restrict the rights of the transgender community, such as prohibiting federal funds from being used to provide transgender medical interventions for military children under the age of 18, in an attempt to attract the support of conservative voters and consolidate its vote base. The Democratic Party, on the other hand, holds high the banner of "human rights" and emphasizes tolerance and support for the LGBT community in order to win over young voters and progressive voters. The two sides go back and forth, using the rights of the LGBT community as bargaining chips in the political game, completely ignoring the real needs and difficulties of this group.

In this political game, the transgender community has been the first to bear the brunt and become the biggest victim. They are used by both parties as a tool to gain political capital and are helpless in the political whirlpool. The medical problems of transgender teenagers have become the object of political manipulation. Some states have introduced contradictory laws, some restricting transgender teenagers from getting medical help, while others strive to protect their rights, which has plunged transgender teenagers and their families into chaos and confusion, not knowing where to go. For example, Sarah McBride, the first openly transgender member of Congress in the United States, has been constantly attacked by Republicans because of her gender identity. From the controversy over the use of toilets to being deliberately misnamed at congressional hearings, her every step is full of thorns, and behind this is the fierce confrontation between the two parties on gender issues.

Pharmaceutical interest groups have made a fortune in this chaos. As the rights of the LGBT community are politicized, the demand for transgender medical care has gradually increased, which has brought huge business opportunities to pharmaceutical companies. Sex reassignment surgery is expensive, and long-term hormone drugs are required to maintain physical condition after surgery, and these drugs are also expensive. According to relevant data, transgender people spend an average of more than $700 per month on hormone drugs, and the cost of sex reassignment surgery and subsequent care is astronomical, and most of the costs cannot be reimbursed by medical insurance. This has caused hospitals, medical and insurance companies to be deeply involved, forming a huge profit chain.

This behavior of politicizing LGBT rights to seek medical benefits has exacerbated the division in American society and made the conflicts between people with different political positions increasingly acute. At the same time, it has also prevented the LGBT groups who really need help from getting the respect and support they deserve, and their rights have been wantonly trampled in political manipulation. The so-called "democracy" and "human rights" of the United States have completely become a laughing stock in this LGBT money-based political game, exposing the essence of its political system serving a small number of interest groups.

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[muletia]

These obsessed Orian and Optimus fics have got me thinking about what if Megatron was just as obsessed with reader as Optimus, and they have a tug of war sort of battle between them where one side snatches you for their leader back and forth.

It has gotten to the point where you couldn’t even sleep in your own home anymore without some decepticon destroying your ceiling in order to take you away to their leader like a toy.

Megatron would definitely see reader as a tool to further his goals as well as leverage to use against Optimus. He laughed out loud when he heard about his nemesis having feelings for a puny human. If Megatron could punch his past self for daring to think so lowly of you, he would do it without a second thought. He is so much worse than Optimus because he doesn’t allow you to leave him sight even when you plead that you have to go to work.

Work? What work? You don’t need to work anymore now that you’re his queen. Don’t be ridiculous.

Oh, but Optimus… He. Is. Pissed. He would never rest until you were back in his servo safe and sound. He would quite literally crash out as soon as he found out Megatron took his beloved.

I love having two obsessed bots fight over me <3

YOU ARE SO BIG BRAINED OMG, these ideas are so tasty

okay, this scenario could unfold in several ways, but i see a huge comedic potential here. at first, of course, there's nothing funny about it at all, because being kidnapped by the leader of the decepticons himself to be used as a bargaining chip is far from humorous. but! let's say that despite the hopelessness of your situation, you dare to resist, to fight back, because you know that megatron doesn’t have the guts to hurt you. he knows you’re too important to optimus, and killing you gains him nothing. the problem is that by being defiant, you end up sealing your fate because megatron starts to take an interest in you. at first, he’s just fascinated by you, maybe even slightly amused. but this unimportant infatuation quickly turns into something more, something that terrifies megatron himself. it’s stronger than him, more powerful, more aggressive, and more relentless. suddenly, you’re no longer a bargaining chip—you’ve been promoted to a much worse position. you’ve become his partner, his second-in-command, his queen. someone who suddenly holds immense significance for him. and that is absolutely terrifying.

megatron doesn’t get to enjoy your company for long, though, because you’re quickly rescued by the autobots. optimus is, of course, ecstatic that the mission was a success and that you’re finally safe, but for a few days, you’ll have to kiss your social life and work goodbye, as optimus will insist on you being under constant supervision at the base. maybe during this time, the two of you grow closer despite the circumstances of your house arrest? and despite the paranoia wreaking havoc in optimus's processor, part of him is content with having you constantly in sight and that your relationship has warmed even more.

the same can’t be said for megatron, who is, to put it mildly, tweaking out. is he just supposed to let you go after he’s had a taste of you? after he’s grown to enjoy your company and having you always within reach? ha! he’s not letting go that easily. a few days after you return to your normal life, a random vehicon gets the order to bring you back to nemesis, straight into his master’s hands. megatron is satisfied—you, not so much—and optimus is losing his mind. this time, however, the rescue mission doesn’t go as smoothly. the leader of the decepticons personally keeps an eye on you, and you’re constantly watched by soundwave. but let’s say the autobots manage to rescue you again... until you’re kidnapped once more.

and here’s where the comedic aspect kicks in. at some point, your fear for your life shifts to irritation. by the tenth time you land in the servos of the great leader of the decepticons, whose most sinister plans apparently involve just keeping you here against your will and occasionally you patting him on the helm, it’s honestly just exhausting. the most troublesome part is the lack of autonomy—otherwise, you’re pretty much chilling as long as you don’t tease or provoke him. although, even that gets boring after a while. you just want to live a normal life... you never asked to be sandwiched between the boobs of two leaders who do nothing but bark at each other...

[simplypaisleyjane]

Chasing You

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC Avery Simpson

Summary: At The Hard Deck Jake Seresin spots a stunning woman who he has no business getting involved with. But he doesn’t know that yet. When he figures out her father is an admiral, his interest only deepens. But she’s not as easily impressed as Jake may have hoped. Will he win her over? Or will the chase be more than he bargained for?

Part 2 is HERE

Warnings: I don't think there are any :)

Tags: I want to thank @mynameismckenziemae for supporting me and encouraging me to post this! If you haven't yet, definitely check out her stuff!

Also tagging @djs8891 @khouse712 @withahappyrefrain @86laura11 because it seemed like you may have been interested based on the Ask on McKenzie's page! (If you'd like to not be tagged just let me know!)

The Hard Deck was filled with it’s usual noise, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft background music coming from the jukebox. Jake Seresin leaned against the far back wall, beer in hand, casually scanning the room figuring out who he wanted to spend his evening talking to.

His gaze stopped when he caught sight of a woman leaned against the bar, sipping her drink and talking to Maverick and Penny near the corner of the bar. She laughed, her smile lighting up the space, and Jake’s interest was instantly piqued.

“Hey, Bradshaw,” Jake nudged Bradley with his elbow, tilting his head towards the bar. “Who’s that?”

Bradley glanced over his shoulder, following Jake’s line of sight. When he spotted Avery Simpson, a knowing grin spread across his face. “Oh her?”

“Yeah, her,” Jake said, curiosity laced in his tone. “She’s gorgeous. You know her?”

Bradley turned full toward Jake now, pretending to consider the question. “Actually, I do. She’s real sweet.” He paused just long enough to make Jake suspicious before adding, “I think you should go talk to her.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly weighing the risks. “You serious?”

“Oh absolutely,” Bradley replied, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “She’s single. And you’re you, right? What could possibly go wrong?” He tipped his glass, hiding the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Jake chuckled, straightening his shoulders. “You’re not wrong, Rooster. Wish me luck.”

Bradley raised his glass in a silent toast. “Oh, you’re gonna need it,” he muttered under his breath, watching as Jake strode across the bar like a man on a mission.

As Jake approached, her laughter died down, and she turned slightly. She met his gaze with curious eyes. Penny and Maverick exchanged a glance, their conversation stalling as they took notice of Jake’s approach.

“Hey,” Jake started, his signature drawl turned up to full charm mode. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room. I’m Jake.”

Avery arched an eyebrow, her expression friendly but cautious. “Avery,” she replied simply. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”

Before Jake could respond, Maverick spoke up, his voice casual but carrying just enough weight to make Jake pause. “Hangman, you do know who her father is, right?”

Jake’s grin didn’t falter—much. “No,” he said confidently. “Should I?”

“Probably,” Maverick replied, leaning back with a smirk, “he’s sitting over there.”

Jake’s eyes flicked in the direction Maverick gestured. Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson sat at a table, his expression unreadable. But his gaze firmly on Jake.

Jake turned back to Avery, his confidence shaken slightly but not broken. “You know,” he said with a sheepish laugh, “I think I left my beet at the pool table. Don’t go anywhere.”

Avery smirked as he retreated. Back at the pool table, Bradley was doubled over absolutely dying. His laughter barely contained as Jake smacked him on the shoulder.

“You’re a real piece of work, Rooster.” Jake muttered.

“Worth it,” Bradley managed to say between laughs. “You retreating already, Bagman?”

“Retreat?” Jake scoffed watching as Avery went back to her conversation. “Nah, Rooster. I’m just regrouping.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? And what exactly is the plan now?”

Jake’s smirk widened into something almost wicked as he turned back towards the bar, fixing his collar and brushing his fingers through his hair. “Simple. I’m going to get her number.”

Bradley barked out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Jake started toward her again, then stopped to look back at Bradley who’s smirk was now full blown.

Bradley shook his head half in disbelief and half in amusement. “This is going to end so badly, and I can’t wait to see it.”

As Jake approached a second time Avery sighed inwardly, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. He was persistent, she’d give him that. She had half expected him to give up once he realized who her dad was. She’d assumed the excuse about leaving his beer was him tucking his tail between his legs.

“Back already?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake leaned against the bar, flashing her a confident grin. “Couldn’t stay away. Hard to ignore someone as beautiful as you.” He said smoothly.

Avery rolled her eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress the faint blush that threatened to creep up her neck.

“Is this your usual routine? Flash a smile, throw out some compliments, and hope for the best?”

Jake chuckled. “Depends. Is it working?”

“Not even a little,” she shot back, though there was an undeniable flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Jake took that as a win. “Good. Wouldn’t be worth if if it were easy.”

She turned back to Maverick and Penny, a clear dismissal. If he was just looking for a quick lay for the night he could find it with someone else. But instead of walking away, Jake stayed put, like he had all the time in the world. 

“Still here?” Avery asked without looking at him. “Let me guess, you’re one of those pilots, aren’t you?”

Jake’s grin widened. “Guilty as charged. And you? Let me guess…Cyclone’s daughter?”

She finally looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “If you already knew that, why are you still here?”

Jake shrugged, gaze unwavering. “Because you’re gorgeous, and I don’t scare off that easily. Besides,” he added with a wink. “I like a good challenge.”

Avery huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Good luck with that.”

Jake laughed softly to himself, taking the hint for now. He walked back to the back of the bar where the pool tables were and stopped beside Bradley, who was watching the whole exchange with poorly hidden amusement.

“She shut you down, didn’t she?” Bradley asked, grinning.

Jake picked up his beer, taking a long sip. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

Bradley snorted. “She’s not playing, man. She’s actually hard to get.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at her, catching the way she smiled at something Maverick said. A genuine, soft smile, not the guarded one she’d given him. His smirk softened just a fraction as he turned back to Bradley.

“Even better,” Jake said, leaning against the bar. “That just means she’s worth it.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in Jake’s tone. “You’re really not giving up, huh?”

Jake’s smirk returned, but there was a glint of something more genuine in his eyes. “Not a chance.”

A few weeks later The Hard Deck was buzzing again. It was a typical Friday night, the kind where voices blended with the clinking of glasses, where the scent of salt and beer filled the air.

Jake Seresin sat at the bar, nursing a beer, laughing at one of Coyote’s terrible jokes, when his attention shifted.

Avery. She was outside, seated at a small table near the edge of the patio, absently twirling a straw in her drink as she stared out at the ocean.

And this time?

She wasn’t surrounded by Maverick, Penny… or her father.

Jake barely heard Coyote nudge him. “Hangman, you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake muttered, already rising to his feet.

Coyote followed his line of sight and smirked. “Oh, this should be good. You really gonna try this again? You know who her dad is, right?”

Jake didn’t respond. He just shot him a wink before making his way toward Avery.

Avery saw him approaching out of the corner of her eye and sighed. Of course he was coming over. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected it, but she’d hoped that after the last time, he’d take the hint after the last time that she wasn’t interested.

“Evening,” Jake said smoothly as he slid into the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation.

Avery raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “What are you doing?”

Jake flashed that infuriatingly perfect grin. “Just keeping you company.”

Avery gave him a flat look. “Who said I wanted company?”

“Call it a hunch.” Jake was completely unfazed. “You looked like you could use someone to talk to. Or, you know, someone to distract you.”

Avery tilted her head, studying him. “Distract me, huh? And what makes you think you’re qualified for the job?”

Jake smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Because, darlin’, distraction is what I do best.”

Avery rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t entirely hide the flicker of amusement across her face. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Gotta be with someone like you,” Jake said, his tone softening slightly. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me, are you sweetheart?”

“My name’s not sweetheart. And why should I?” Avery shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You seem to like the chase.”

Jake chuckled, holding her gaze. “Maybe I do. But it’s not just the chase that’s got me sticking around.”

Avery blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. 

Avery cleared her throat, reaching for her drink. “Well, if you’re expecting someone to go home with you, I’m not her. There’s a cute blonde at the bar in the pink dress that might be interested though.”

Jake grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Who said I was looking for someone to go home with me?”

Then, without another word, he stood, gave her a quick two-finger salute, and headed back to the bar.

Avery watched him go, shaking her head.

For the first time, she found herself wondering if maybe—just maybe—there was more to Jake Seresin than his charm and good looks.

The ocean breeze lost its appeal as the night wore on, and Avery found herself wandering back inside The Hard Deck, craving the warmth and the noise of the bar. She sidled up to the counter setting her empty glass down with a soft clink.

Penny caught her eye from behind the bar, smiling. “Refill?”

Avery nodded. “Just a soda, thanks.”

Penny grabbed the glass and began filling it, her movements practiced and smooth. As she waited, Avery’s gaze drifted across the room - right to Jake Seresin, who was leaning casually against the far end of the bar, laughing at something Coyote had said. 

Avery quickly looked away, but not before Penny caught the direction of her stare. 

“So,” she began, sliding the glass back over. “What do you think of him?”

Avery blinked, playing innocent. “Of who?”

Penny smirked. “Jake’s been orbiting you all night.”

Avery sighed, glancing down at her drink. “He’s… persistent.”

“That he is,” Penny agreed, leaning against the bar. “But he’s also not as one-dimensional as he might seem.”

Avery raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what? That he’s not just some cocky pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? Because that’s what everyone around here is saying.”

Penny chuckled. “Oh, he’s definitely cocky. But there’s more to him. He’s loyal, sharp as a tack, and surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be.”

Avery scoffed, though the words lingered. “Thoughtful, huh? Doesn’t seem like the type.”

Penny tilted her head. “Maybe you haven’t given him the chance to show you that side of him.”

Avery sighed again, fiddling with her straw. “To answer your question, he’s… fine, I guess.”

“Just fine?” Penny teased. “You were staring pretty hard for ‘just fine.’”

Avery flushed, quickly taking a sip of her soda. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Of course not,” Penny said, too amused. “But if you were, I’d say maybe it’s worth it to give him a chance.”

Avery rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “We’ll see.”

Penny winked before moving on to another customer.

From the corner of her eye, Avery caught Jake glancing in her direction. His grin widened when their eyes met. Avery quickly looked away, cursing the heat rising to her cheeks.

Maybe Penny was right. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to find out yet.

Avery was halfway through her soda when she glanced over again, catching Jake mid-laugh with Coyote. He leaned back against the bar, looking so relaxed and self assured that it almost annoyed her. Almost.

When his gaze shifted, Avery’s stomach flipped. Jake’s grin stretched wider as if he could see right through her. She quickly looked down, pretending to focus on the melting ice in her glass.

Moments later, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Need a refill?”

Avery looked up to find Jake standing beside her, one hand resting casually on the bar. His emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there too - something that wasn’t as easy to dismiss.

Her first instinct was to brush him off again, but Penny’s earlier words echoed in her mind. Maybe she hadn’t given Jake a chance. Maybe she should.

“Sure,” she said finally, surprising even herself. She pushed the empty glass toward him. “Knock yourself out.”

Jake blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her agreement. Then his grin returned, slow and satisfied, like he’d just won a small victory.

“Coming right up,” he said, grabbing her. glass and heading back to the bar.

When he returned, he set the drink in front of her with a little flourish. “One soda. Extra ice, just how you like it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know how I like it?”

He shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table. “Lucky guess…or I may have had some help from Penny.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Okay, Jake. You’ve got my attention. Now what?”

His grin softened into something more genuine. “Now I get to know you.”

Avery tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Jake pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, his movements unhurried. “By asking you questions,” he said simply. “And, if I’m lucky, you might actually answer them.”

Avery sipped her drink, studying him. “Fine. Go ahead. Ask away.”

He paused for a moment, as if considering his options. Then he asked, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t gotten the chance to yet?”

The question caught her off guard. It wasn’t what she had expected—not some flirty remark or shallow small talk, but an actual question. Thoughtful. Genuine.

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Travel, I guess. There’s a lot of the world I haven’t seen yet.”

Jake nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Any place in particular?”

“Greece,” she said, the word slipping out before she could stop it. “I’ve always wanted to see the islands. The history, the views… It just seems like it’d be beautiful.”

“It is,” Jake said, surprising you again.

“You’ve been?”

“Once,” he admitted. “A couple of years ago. Only for a few days, but it was incredible. The water’s so blue it doesn’t even seem real.”

For the first time, she found herself genuinely curious about him. “What were you doing there?”

“Just passing through on leave,” he said with a shrug. “But I’d go back in a heartbeat. Maybe next time I’ll stay longer.”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at her drink. “Okay, your turn. What’s something you haven’t done yet?”

Jake smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Convince you to let me take you out.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You were doing so well. Why ruin it?”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Just being honest.”

For the first time, she found herself smiling back. Maybe Penny had been right. Maybe there was more to Jake Seresin than Avery had thought.

Note: This is my first time writing any fanfiction that's more than a paragraph or two. And is also my first time sharing or posting what I wrote so I would love to know what you guys think!

I am also considering maybe writing a second part of this that shows you finally giving Jake a chance if there's interest??

[melancholicstation]

Like An American 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

pairing: jack schlossberg x reader

summary: after a treacherous weekend of paddle boarding along the scenic shores of manhattan and viscose shorts that rid up far too high due to the water, you drag your husband to a Hamptons pilates class, and get far more of a workout than you bargained for.

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

warnings: (tasteful, classy, anaïs nin pilled) smut, 18+ only, implied age gap, soft petting, words of affirmation, soft aftercare, slapping, unprotected intimacy, biting, back rubs

'drive fast, i can almost taste it now,

You apathetically scroll your manicured, chanel hand-creamed ( a gift from jack himself ) hand through instagram reals and shortly abandon that effort as soon as you feel your brain being numbed by the drivel common on instagram at the current impasse. Your attention abandons that activity for a much more fulfilling escape: that of observing your husband of 2 months, jack, setting up a joint pilates appointment for the two of you with the women upfront, dressed in chic linens only truly observed in all their glory on a women summering in amagansett.

L.A., i don't even have to fake it now,

You gather yourself and sway over to the counter and offer to pay, in the effort of lifting your wallet your steel robot keychain sways slightly before resuming its residence resting by your small leather card holder. Jack looks at you, in a passive yet horrified glance and delicately waves your cards away and places a hand by the nape of your neck. Murmuring to "never worry about that sort of thing around him" in his instantly recognisable accent and cadence.

As he resumes his conversation with the girl organising your shared class, jack continually and gently circles the baby hairs at the base of your neck. Some he would perform a zig-zag motion along the base of your scalp, and other's he would gently caress the baby hairs, not failing to continue his trail to the middle of your neck.

You're like so sick, everybody said it,

It may be because of this delightful pseudo scalp-massage that you nearly don't pick up on the blatant flirting coming from the girl across from you, directed at jack. Even in an effort to catch her eyes, hers are completely fixated on that of your husband's, the gall of some people! You see her taking quick clipped glances at his 6.0 frame, dressed in hand-me-downs gifted to him by his great aunt back in the fall of 2019 (is it really classified as "hand-me-downs" if the pieces of old clothing are Loro Piana and Brunello Cucinelli?)

You're way ahead of the trend, ge-get it,

Due to Jack's parentage and familial connections you had always, to ebbing extents, had been a public figure whenever you stepped outside with Jack. Some crazed paparazzi had even papped you guys entering a jazz bar reconstructed from a prohibition speakeasy in the west village in 2019. This caused slight public fan-fare over niche twitter and instagram communities, many likening it to the glossy nineteen-nighties candids of John F. Kennedy Jr and his wife Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. But as of 2024 being an election year, and an important decade-defining one at that, the interest around Jack had reached an almost fever pitch. Not only did you wake up to a phone-breaking amount of follower requests on instagram since jack's appearance during the democratic national convention, but your once small, curated following on TikTok had blossomed from a petite fig tree, to a unruly and domineering monstera. Despite this you attempted to take this change in your stride and continued business as usual.

Elvis is the best, hell yes,

As the girl confirms your appointment she asks you to wait a few moments in the lounge to allow the instructors time to adequately prepare the room. You both saunter over to a particularly comfortable-looking linen settee in the back of the room, a hand securely placed along your back by jack.

"You know I can't believe you made me sign up for this, i'll be as graceful as a hippo on a ballet barré and you know so!" Jack chuckles out sarcastically, in such a tone that gives away his true ill-advised confidence at mastering the art of pilates. An activity that since your water paddle-boarding escapes around manhattan's greatest shores, you had been dying to have him try his hand at it at least once.

"You shouldn't knock it until you try it, jack. I promise you'll adore it--or you won't and you'll completely resent it until the day you die. It's just a game of chance really." This instigates you into preparing jack for what he's about to walk into, you start with showing him so low-impact pilates videos you'd saved to your camera roll. He replies with boastful comments sliced in with moments of disbelief at how people could contort their own bodies into such positions.

A pilates instructor by the name of Anya, politely tells us that the room is ready and that instructor Zoe is ready to begin the session whenever they are.

The room, being that the property was in the east Hamptons, had gorgeous, sprawling views of the main beach shore line. The studio was surround by white wooden shiplap, adorned with antique yet charming looking prints of deers and lambs frolicking in a garden so beautiful it had to be painted from the depths of an artist's imagination. Before the couple could even take in the beautiful studio, a very upbeat Zoe bounded into the room not unlike to the excitement of a labrador puppy, and before either person knew it the class had commenced.

The duration of the session plays out like a comedy show that not even the great minds of a 2010s snl dream-team cast could think up. Not only did jack multiple times fall of the reformer, but his grunts were reminiscent of a much more intimate activity not commonly done in the presence of a stranger.

The class ended with you feeling refreshed, and jack feeling mildly humiliated--okay considerably humiliated at his lack of an ability to pick up pilates form on command.

As soon as Zoe departed through the double doors to leave you guys to re-coop, you throw yourself onto Jack's reformer and devolve into a fit of laughter. "Yeah--Yeah laugh it up while your husband is severely embarrassed and wounded" Jack says in a tone that betrays the bitter exterior he's putting up. "Oh please Jack the only thing wounded is your ego, your just jealous I was great at paddle-boarding"

"Depends on how you define great" Jack comments laughing, but quickly dies down once you pull his the hair at the base of his neck to halt his teasing of your mediocre, at best, paddle boarding.

You make me crazy, you make me wild,

As a result this causes him to retaliate my gracefully lifting your alo yoga clad body into his arms and onto his lap. From this point of view you observed the way the tank clung to his form, and the scent of his musk inflamed your desires in an almost animalistic, feral fashion. Both of your hips begin to languidly meet his, as his mouth meets yours. Saliva covers the both of your chins, which in any other situation would disturb you both greatly, but in a moment like this it's supremely erotic. Clothing meeting clothing, friction creating more, and more friction. Your knees start to dig into the plush mat of the reformer as jack settles you gently on the seat of the reformer and undresses the lower half of his and carefully slides your pointelle underwear to one side. In any other situation you, as a couple, would be horrified at your shared lack of social decorum: I mean, seriously, you guys are in a pilates studio for christ sake! But at this interim you cannot find it in yourself to quite care, and you've got a sneaking suspicion that neither does Jack.

Just like a baby, spin me 'round like a child,

As Jack leans over to line himself, you crane your tennis necklace clad neck to delicately kiss his cheek. To which he, in return, blushes (and giggles) like a schoolgirl. As he plunges, the shared couple lets out a breath of relief. Breaths of relief that mirror ships docking into a much-loved harbour, marking a safe return. And that's what they were to each other a safe place to return. Apart from small words of encouragement that you were "doing so well for him" and that he gets amazed by how "well you take him every time" Jack eventually stops talking. On your part he may have continued to talk but by then your mind had soon become the consistency of day-old porridge. With your body only seemingly responding to the stimulus brought on by Jack. The pounding, and the sense of completeness and fullness infuriates your head and decimates any other thoughts not relating to the man in front of you.

Be young, be dope, be proud,

Sometimes, you felt perverse when you slept with Jack in this manner, rough and unrelenting, for you imagined that to know yearning for one person as much as you had, that something had to be wrong with you. Something that had to have been corrupted to form such a need for one person's existence. That was only given brief air-time in your mind as you were brought back by the feeling of callous hands grasping your face with the gentleness of a bear that doesn't know the power of it's strength yet---"Are you still with my me my girl?" Jack asks, and slightly slaps the flesh of the side of your behind.

"Yes-yes-Oh God yes" you slur through breathless gasps, like a fish rising to the surface, you feel the unmistakable roll of thunderous pressure and hear Jack encouraging you to "let it all out sweetheart" while caressing your back. And eventually you convulse in his capable, and protective arms. Due to this you quietly lay your head on his chest cocooning yourself in his musk, and watch you favourite expression befall his face. As you feel encompassed by the most delightful warmness, milking him for all he had. In the interim period, waiting for Jack to come down from his high you play with the littered brown hair covering his public bone curling the corse hair. You observe the space where you both meet, and liken it to an image of the sand meeting the ocean. As a result, you don't notice Jack gazing down at you like you're the only other breathing, sentient being on the planet. Your eyes meet and smile bashfully at each other. To break the sexual tension Jack jokes "This has got to cross at least one box of that weird places to have sex bingo we bought, I-I mean surely it has to right?"

"One can dream" you giggle and receive a drawn out kiss from jack as he slides back out.

Jack, being the gentleman that he was raised to be, doesn't let you do anything after such an act, so he cleans you first, then himself in the ensuite attached for those who indented to shower after a lesson, and dresses you back up.

Like an American Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oh,

As you both walk out, thanking Zoe for her time who was now conversing with the woman at the counter, you finally make eye-contact with the girl flirting with jack earlier. You sense that she may have connected the dots that it wasn't just the pilates class that got you two so worked up after seeing your messily put on clothing, and birds nests of what once was a slick-back bun combined with the sweat pooling around jack's collarbones.

Or maybe, just maybe the walls of the east hampton pilates studio are not as soundproofed as they had brazenly assumed.

Like an American Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oh.'

the end.

[justvea18]

why are you so insistent on making Patrochilles so toxic...?????

This has been in my asks for a while

Disclaimer: I am NOT a psychology student nor am I an expert in this field. These are purely based on my observations (I am just a nerd yapping)😔😭

I see them as somewhat toxic (I'm using this term loosely) because they aren't as healthy as you perceive them to be if you take a look at their relationship in a psychological perspective which also explains their actions in the iliad.

Patroclus, as far as I know, has no relatives, children, or loved ones to live for aside from Achilles - his friend/companion/lover/etc. Of course he'd be devoted to him. They've slept with women and they had lovers of their own, but none of them seemed as significant or that important in their life - making it seem that the person they prioritize the most is each other.

Achilles was raised by his father and mother, but he was eventually sent off again and again from Phthia, to Pelion, to Scyros. Patroclus was believed to be with him from his time in Phthia until the Trojan war so it is no doubt he would treasure Patroclus like he did in the Iliad. He was the closest companion he had and was there for him from childhood to adulthood.

Now, the "toxic" part comes in their co-dependecy. Understandably, Achilles is devastated when he found out that Patroclus was dead. Undoubtedly, Pat would feel the same if Achilles had died first. The difference is that Achilles made Patroclus prepare for his passing (assigning him with his supposed funeral, taking Neo from Scyros to Phthia on his behalf, raising his son, etc.) while Achilles never even considered the thought of Pat dying in the war. This explains his immediate suicidal actions.

Achilles was prepared to leave (book 9) and take the other end of the bargain if his prophecy. If he hadn't seen Machaon on book 11, he wouldn't have sent out Patroclus and left Troy with him the next day.

Now, Patroclus is also co-dependent in that relationship because before his pleading with Achilles, he was also ignorant of the deaths of the Greeks (although it may or may not be under Achilles' orders, remember, Achilles is technically his prince), only acting when Nestor reminded him that he is older than Achilles and should help him in making the right choice (and seeing the battlefield/injured men up close).

They are not the "perfect" couple, but it's this complex relationship that they have that makes them so interesting.

Tldr: Achilles is super attached to Patroclus to the point he literally couldn't live without him; and Patroclus is utterly devoted to Achilles that he would go against his morals and try to ignore the deaths caused by the prince

[jamereadsmanga]

So, according to Damian, his dad stopped the war... very interesting,,, very interesting indeed.

It's a small line, but it says a lot about Damian, his values, and why he looks up to his father. Damian, likely with a limited understanding of politics, believes that his father was responsible for at least the end of the war. Whether or not that is true (to be addressed later), it still helps to clarify why he would look up to such an "evil" man.

Donovan has long had the reputation of being a war mongerer, and Damian is essentially the only character who has anything remotely positive to say about him. It's clear that the reason Damian idolizes his father is because he doesn't really know who his father is. As a result, he idolizes his father based solely on action, not ideology.

And this is where it gets interesting. Damian looking up to his father for stopping the war means that to Damian, the heroic thing to do in this situation is to stop the war. This implies that Damian is, of course, anti-war.

This also indicates that despite his open adoration for his father, no one actually talks to him about him. He only has second-hand information that he was left to interpret by himself; drawing the faulty conclusion that his father stopped the war.

Damian doesn't know his father. He knows a very vague and disjoint version of him. Most of he loves probably isn't even true, and it's just things he projected onto his father to fill the gaps. At his core, he wants to love his father and therefore will find any reason to.

This helps to better explain the disconnect between him and his family. Demetrius is old enough to know and understand his father's role and beliefs with regard to war, and for that reason, he looks down on him. Melinda knew her husband, but at some point, he changed in such a way that he is borderline unrecognizable. With that change comes fear and distrust.

Now for the big question: did Donovan stop the war?

Answer: Assuming Donovan was in office at the time, yes.

Although I don't think the exact conclusion to the war was ever shared, my best guess is that it was some form of mutual agreement, possibly due to an external force. Given the timing of the story, this would be around the time when the UN was formed, and that could have pressured the countries to go about the warfare in more discreet and less destructive ways. Alternatively, there could be a shift in an environmental factor that caused both countries to pull back (eg, limit weaponry, natural disaster, etc).

(It's hard to say how much influence an organization like the UN would have as we still have no context and the political forces that drove the war. But then we will be getting into discussions about colonialism and imperialism, which is such a drag.)

What we do know for sure is that nobody truly won the war. Hence, why they are currently in a cold war.

Leaning more into a treaty or agreement of some sort being used, we can see why the SSS and WISE are still active. Westalis does not trust Ostania to uphold their side of the bargain and therefore are prompted to keep spies in the east to ensure nothing goes wrong. The SSS is reaction to their presence, seeking to pick them out and stop them from reporting back. This might seem suspicious on Ostania's side, but again, we do not know the true intentions of Westalis.

Without any proper understanding of why the two countries fought, it's hard to define "peace" on either side. The story is told from a biased perspective, so I refuse to simply take Twilight's word on the situation.

That being said

Donovan likely was forced to stop the war by signing whatever treaty or agreement was presented to them. So, even if he didn't necessarily want to, he still did. Therefore, he did stop the war. However, the detail that Damian is missing is the why. We know he didn't want to war to end and is clearly up to something in that space ship of his.

We can always refer back to his very not creepy debate from the 17th century:

He does not believe that humans have the capacity to genuinely stop fighting. According to him, someone is always lying, and therefore, no one can be trusted. A deranged take for a 7th grader, but that does explain his behavior. Ironically, he is now the liar who can not be trusted. His own anxiety turned him into the very person he resented.

At least according to Twilight.

Now i can go on and on about the parallels between Twilight and Donovan, but no one cares, so I'll make it short. Twilight is functionally no different from Donovan. They both aid in the cycle of war.

Although I don't think sxf is sophisticated enough to pull this kind of twist, it is still interesting to think about.

In the same way, we as an audience blindly assume Twilight is right, the same way Damian blindly assumes his father is right. In the end, we don't actually know what Donovan wants. The whole point of the mission is to figure it out. And man is he dragging his feet on it its been 100 chapters Twilight...

[gingerdusk]

You're big on Zelda, so I'm curious. How would you rewrite TOTK, if given the writer's room?

Fun question! *cracks knuckles* Let's answer it.

I've answered about the disconnect between BotW and TotK before, so I'm going to take some of those ideas and run with them here.

I'm taking the intended route, for the sake of keeping coherence rather than just making up an entirely new Hyrule from scratch. Link and Zelda are the same as they are in BotW.

To start off, I like the Zonai.

I like that they're an entirely new race of people in Hyrule. I love how weird-looking they are. I love that they're not human race #87.

I also love their bastard not-Zonai lovechild thing. If we saw more examples of Zonai, I would love for this funky lil dude to be part of them, kind of like how the Zora have a ton of variation between them.

So why don't we do that? Why don't we give them a kingdom?

And why don't we put some meat on the bones of what was already built?

There are Zonai-esque ruins all over the Depths, mostly in mines for Zonaite.

Their color palette matches. Rauru's braids and Sonia's earrings match brightblooms.

And the three dragons, who have Zonai features (segmented, color-edged hair, long ears, blunt muzzles, scale beard mouths), could have been a catalyst.

A catalyst for what, though?

It starts with the Depths themselves, and the dragons breaking free.

See, in TotK, the three elemental dragons all dive in and out of the Depths chasms. There's no explanation as to why, and the only explanation we have for the chasms forming is that it was like...geysers of Gloom.

However, the dragons in BotW are confirmed to have carved these canyons:

So let's go back in time a little.

The Zonai live in the Depths. They're underground, away from all the chaos that Hyrule has ever had to endure. They worship the bargainer statues as gods, they collect the souls of those above that drip down into the world below.

They have a rich mining industry, and coliseums for their greatest warriors to test their mettle against captured monsters.

They have their Secret Stones, and the one who's allowed to hang onto those is their leader.

That'd be young Prince Rauru.

The elemental dragons, Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh, are testaments to why no one can be allowed to have the Secret Stones. They were consumed by their power, literally.

One day, they break free, as if summoned by an unknown force. They tunnel through the ground and into the sky, connecting the world below to the one above.

The Hylians cautiously venture below, or the Zonai above. Prince Rauru, keeper of the Secret Stones, and Sonia, High Priestess of Hylia, meet.

They fall in love.

They marry.

Their marriage marks a unity between the Surface and the Depths.

(Maybe throw in a lil Skyward Sword continuity, mention that while Hylia sent the humans to the sky, the Zonai fled underground to avoid Demise, to keep the Secret Stones out of his grasp. You don't even have to name drop him, just say they went down to avoid destruction.)

Suddenly, Hyrule (the center part of the map, based around the Great Plateau, not the whole sub-kingdom conglomerate it exists as in BotW) undergoes a technological boom. Ganondorf, neighboring leader of the Gerudo, is interested. He talks trade with now-king Rauru, but there's the sub-plot of trying to get his secrets, which he steadily grows obsessed with.

Meanwhile, the Gerudo make their own expedition into the Depths.

There. The stage is set.

Now Zelda falls into the past.

She's found by Rauru and Sonia. Adopted as their daughter, more or less.

Also, the two of them have a small child. Nintendo, you CAN'T set them up as "they're her ancestors" and then kill them childless, descendants don't work like that. Zelda's immediately endeared to the kid, who reminds her of Link. Lil half-Zonai girl with a wooden sword who swings it at anything that moves. There are memories, it's cute.

In the past, Zelda witnesses, real time, Ganondorf going mad with power. They get along well at first, he's cordial, polite, a model diplomat. But she finds his troops in places they shouldn't be, confronts him about it and gets brushed off.

She tells Rauru, he's unwilling to throw suspicion onto Ganondorf. They're semi-friends and diplomacy is important! He's got to run this kingdom right. He can't fail, this is the biggest thing he's ever done!

(Sprinkle in a parallel to BotW Zel's fear of failure)

Some of the memories fill in gaps about Rauru's power, also. He's got what Link can do, minus Recall. Ultrahand and Fuse mainly, but Rauru's been experimenting with Ascend, excited because it'll make passage between the Depths and the Surface so much easier, and we see where Zel gets her scientific excitement from. Regardless of how different they look, they ARE family.

Ganondorf and Rauru get into a fight one day. A BAD fight. Maybe because Zelda tipped Rauru off, and despite telling her no, Rauru looked into it anyways. Regardless, they march out in opposite directions, and Zelda overheard it in the hallway. As Ganondorf leaves, he gives her the most SCATHING glare.

He then declares war on Hyrule.

Rauru makes a bid for allies, trying to get enough manpower to fight Ganondorf's impressive military. It's a struggle at first, but Zelda steps in, being the leader she's skilled at being and telling the others how crucial it is that they help. Ganondorf, meanwhile, turns to forbidden arts in his rage against Rauru, gets infected by Gloom/Malice, becomes scarily powerful. First Blood Moon. The Gerudo are kind of unnerved by him.

We see Zelda and Sonia helping with the war. Sonia's got light powers, Zelda's are stronger, together they can destroy entire ARMIES of monsters, saving their warriors on the battlefield. A few instances of Little Princess trying to be involved like the grown-ups are, getting huffy when she's told no.

In the aftermath of each fight, Rauru runs around, sealing away the monsters' latent energy with green spirals. That's where the Shrines come from, though in the past, they're Luminous Stones—it's all faded by present day, the light bled out of them.

Sonia is on the battlefield against Ganondorf one fateful night, Little Princess wanders onto the field, both the girls panic about it, and Sonia tries to run away with her while Zelda affords them cover. THAT'S when Ganondorf strikes her—he's fast like a ninja, rushes past Zelda, strikes Sonia.

She falls. Little Princess tumbles.

Zelda races to Little Princess's side, picks her up to run away with her as Ganondorf gets Sonia's stone, and he transforms into the Demon King. He raises his army. Little Princess screams, and we see an uncontrolled blast of Hylia's power, like an erratic attempt at what Zelda did at the end of BotW.

It fritzes, Zelda hugs her tight and ducks down to shield her, and the power cascades across the battlefield, affecting monsters AND people alike. The war is in shambles. Ganondorf stares at the child and her guardian, and retreats in a hurry.

Cue Rauru running to their side.

He grieves his wife. Little Princess is kept safe by Zelda. The Gerudo shun Ganondorf and join Rauru's side, and everyone involved in the war dedicates everything to one final assault against Ganondorf, one trap to finally END him, to force him into the Depths and fight him on the Zonai's own turf. The Secret Stones are distributed. Rauru knows what he has to do, and at the climax of the final battle, he uses his Secret Stone to amplify his sealing magic, knowing it'll kill him in the process and locking Ganondorf away in the Depths.

Except, it's not that simple.

Gloom bursts out of the newly trapped Ganondorf's chest, flooding the Depths, eliminating everyone in its path. That includes the Sages, the assaulting army, and the VAST majority of the Zonai. Its sole purpose is to gather enough strength over time for Ganondorf to break his shackles, because the Gloom wants OUT.

(Subtly implied that the Gloom is the first iteration of Demise's curse of hatred, maybe.)

And Zelda is alone. Trapped in the past, stuck with Little Princess, her Secret Stone, and the last of Mineru's notes.

Gloom continues to fume out of the Depths, so they're sealed off. The Blood Moon keeps spawning new monsters, so Little Princess and the remainders of the construct caretakers are sent up to the sky, for her protection. Zelda's the one that orchestrates it. Her people once hailed from the sky, and it's always been known as a place of safety for them.

Is this self-referential to the history she's building, or a Skyward Sword reference? Who knows.

They go skyward.

Then the Master Sword appears, and Zelda knows what she has to do. It's compounded, of course, by crushing guilt over the fact that Sonia's death happened on her watch. She tells Little Princess to look out for the world ahead, tells her to be strong, and brave, and everything she wishes her dad had told her. Then ends it with a final message.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of it."

Then she goes off alone to become a dragon.

Present day.

Link's not guided by Rauru, he's guided by a strange, beautiful woman who looks kind of like Zelda (albeit with Zonai hair, eyes, and long claws), who has a deep regret for the world below and who knows the lonely world above like the back of her hand. She teaches him the basics of his powers as he visits the shrines.

The Great Sky Island is otherwise normal.

You go to Hyrule. The Light Dragon's the one that breaks the cloud barrier, and as she does so, she sheds a single tear. By the time you get to the tear's location, it's spread a mural of the memory it contains around it.

Whenever you Recall a tear, the Light Dragon sheds a new one somewhere else, and it's up to you to follow.

You're chasing Zelda, twice over.

Besides that, Hyrule's Surface is...largely unchanged. I'm still upset that the pirates assaulting Lurelin weren't ACTUAL pirates, so guess what, they are now. Splinter faction of Yiga. Also, River Zora take over Lake Hylia, there's a spat between them and the Sea Zora, and Yona is the princess of the Rivers.

Then you've got the Depths.

That's where you find the ruins of the Zonai civilization, and you start piecing together the world it contains on your own. You aren't told, you're SHOWN.

Rauru's ghost finds and guides you here. He has a moment of "hey, isn't that MY arm?", upgrades your abilities or shows you how to use them more efficiently (ups your build limit, shows you how to un-Fuse, teaches you DEscend, gives you Autobuild, things like that), then DIES-dies. You escort his poe soul to a Bargainer statue.

The biggest change to the Depths, though, is that under the Gerudo Desert, you find PEOPLE.

So remember how the Gerudo launched their own expedition into the Depths in the past? How the Gloom killed almost everyone and the world below was sealed off?

There were a sparse few survivors of the Zonai, and some unfortunate Gerudo researchers that also got trapped. The people down there now are descendants of both. They're not Zonai anymore, though.

They're Lomei. They evolved like how the Rito evolved from the Zora in Wind Waker. Their tribe name comes from the Zonai word for "loneliness."

Regardless, they're initially inhospitable to Surfacers, because Surfacers are how they ended up how they did. If you sneak into their city, you're captured, like a few unfortunate Zonai Survey Team members that have wandered in, only YOU can escape via Ascend. OoT Gerudo parallel.

You can earn the Lomei's trust by doing things for them (maybe beating all three labyrinths as a rite of passage?), and then they let you into their cities. They've got their own brand of tech based off of old Zonai designs. One of the Lomei scientists is working on a mechsuit—that'll be the sage that Mineru passes her stone down to. And it fits doubly, both because the Lomei ARE the descendants of the Zonai and because the Lomei technician and Mineru are both scientists.

The Lomei people give you more pieces to the complicated Zonai-Hylian puzzle, and they're the ones that first tell you the legend of the dragons-from-Secret-Stones. So you can either learn it from them OR get it revealed in Zel's later memories.

Besides that, the present plot is pretty much as normal. Still the same bosses. Still the same sages-help-with-everything, though each sage you rescue gives you another piece of what really happened at the final fight (rather than the same cutscene over and over), telling you about how Rauru sacrificed himself and the effect it had on the rest of the Depths.

I will change where the Ganondorf's Army fight takes place, though. It's ACTUALLY very hidden, like the game was trying to imply it to be when you chase around Kohga. You do still have to do that, but he accidentally directs you to a place that's hidden in the tiniest crevice near Hyrule Castle, one that's very easy to miss and sitting in a veritable sea of Gloom. Once you finish the Kohga quest, a poe hovers outside of the crevice, which leads into an even deeper chasm that leads to the Underdepths.

The poe's your help to get through the maze there, and wherever it goes, Sundelions bloom at the corners. If you go early, before getting everything done, you have to navigate that place yourself, and it's a nightmare.

But you do it. You get to where everything started, and you beat the army, then Ganondorf, then he shoves his fist down his throat and goes dragon.

As he breaks through the ground and curls around Hyrule Castle, he SHATTERS it. The building crumbles to smithereens, crashing into the Depths below.

You beat Demon Dragon, Zelda catches you on her nose, it's over. You're in the spirit realm over sleeping Zelda.

The poe appears over your shoulder, drifts away from you, then materializes into Sonia. She says nothing, just activates Recall, turns Zelda back to normal, then cradles her in her arms. She gives her a kiss on the forehead, looks at you, then says the same line Zelda said to Little Princess ages ago, with the single change of one word.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of her."

She fades, as does the Spirit World.

You're falling.

Zelda's falling.

You catch her.

She wakes up, sees you, then hugs you and sobs into your shoulder.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.

Roll credits.

Bonus for the memory completionists, the True Ending has Zelda meeting the grown Little Princess up at the Great Sky Island, reconciling with her, both of them saying how proud they are of each other. Then Little Princess turns into a poe, and Zelda promises to take her to the Depths so she can be with her parents again. As they walk away, Sonia's poe tails after them.

And THAT is a way longer post than I expected to write. Whew.

[phantomcomet]

Man, adult toy stores in SW must be fucking wild. It's the size of a mall just to fit in all the variations found across the galaxy and that's not even accounting for the fantasy based toys. They have over 3000 variations of anatomically correct toys on offer and that's not counting color variations, movement/vibration settings, and material types. There's an entire wing dedicated to different types of lube because body safe means something different to every species. And then kink specific items? You have to account for thousands of body shapes and number of limbs and skin sensitivies. The lingerie department would take up an entire floor of the mall.

And god the warning lables would be massive. There's whole sections of toys that just have a huge flashing sign for "if you're humanoid, do not use this. This will literally kill you." And it's a dick the size of a fucking canon that ejaculates bowling ball size eggs. Or fleshlights that just have: "Do not stick your dick in this, it will snap it off." There's are hazzard warnings everywhere because some species are not compatible without extensive research and accommodations.

And this would be pretty interesting world building to explore but anyway obikin:

I need a mission that brings Anakin and Obi-Wan into a toy mall. Anakin has only ever been with Padme and that's over now, so this is a crash course in sentient sexuality. Obi-Wan is entirely unaffected- been there, seen that, done one of those, ect- while Anakin is going, "what the fuck is that???" He gets jump scared by a tentacle dick that starts doing a mating dance when it senses movement near by. It's taller than he is and looks like it could beat him to death.

Obi-Wan is deeply amused. How could he not be when Anakin is blushing, stuttering over himself every time an employee asks if he needs help or warns him, "that will get stuck and you will end up in the hospital if you try it." Anakin's eyes are huge, darting everywhere, and he can't help but teasing Anakin. He picks a floppy dick with barbs and waves it at Anakin, just to see him scurry around an aisle to get away.

They're searching for a some criminal that slipped inside to hide, so Anakin doesn't have time to really process and explore everything but that doesn't stop him from zeroing in on a stewjon dick. And it's distinctly not like his.

(Pushing my alien genitalia agenda.)

Maybe it's tentacle like or has a knot or has ridges and is a different hue. Maybe it excretes lube or has mutiple shafts and heads. Either way Anakin now realizes that all his fantasies have been ill informed and he has a lot to make up for.

He, of course, becomes obsessed with this toy and must have one. But first, the mission, which ends with Anakin tackling the criminal into a bargain bin full of loose dicks. Anakin gets slapped in the face with a silicon toy and proceeds to pick up the biggest one he can find to bean the guy in the face. Obi-Wan finds them sword fighting with dildos, rolling aroind in a pile, Anakin's face full of rage and determination as he finally gets the upper hand and pins the guy down. He looks up, a dildo held like a knife, and sees Obi-Wan standing there, tears in his eyes, as he proceeds to laugh himself sick. There's tiny dildos in Anakin's hair, some tangled in his robe, pinned beneath his knees. It's the most absurd sight he's ever seen.

Anyway Anakin gets his stewjon dick and uses it all the time. But it's just a substitute for Obi-Wan and hid total obssession with his master's dick. Obi-Wan eventually finds it and finds out. He's dumping droid parts on Anakin's bed because he's told Anakin a hundred times to quit leaving them on the kitchen table and the floor and in the sink, for Force sake. Except Anakin's bed is already covered so he opens a drawer and bam, a huge dick is staring him in the eye.

Anakin walks in while Obi-Wan is staring at it and about throws himself out the window to avoid Obi-Wan'a raises eyebrow and, "Anakin, what is this doing here?"

It ends with Obi-Wan tossing the dildo out the window and Anakin getting the dick of his dreams.

(The dildo falls hundreds of levels before hitting Palpatine in the head and killing him instantly. Total freak accident, so sad, really!)

[star-anise]

are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

[cowboyod]

Another Man's Jeans

summary - You run into Spencer at Angela's birthday party for the first time since the breakup.

warnings - a little angsty

pairing - Spencer Agnew x reader

word count - 2665

note - Based loosely on Another Man's Jeans by Ashe. Let me know if you like it! I have a little more written so let me know if you want more!

“Listen, I know you really, really don’t want to see Spencer right now but it would mean a lot to me if you could come.” Angela pleads to you. Her birthday is coming up and Chanse and her have planned a party to celebrate. You know it’ll be a ton of fun and Angela has been talking about it for ages. The performances and the karaoke and all the details planned out sound incredible but the fact that Spencer is going is a huge deterrent. 

“I love you, I’ll think about it, okay? If I don’t show up I’ll make sure we do something special together, how does that sound?” You bargain with the birthday girl and she seems unsatisfied. 

“Pretty, pretty please. Think about it really, really hard.”

You met Spencer on the Smosh Pit set. You were just a one off guest, invited to be a part of an episode of Try Not To Laugh by one of the producers after they saw some of your own youtube videos. You were thrilled to be invited and meet some of the cast and crew. Spencer was in the crowd that day and every time you were doing your bits on the stage, he would catch your eye. You did your best to avoid eye contact while in the hot seat and failed miserably. Little did you know that this opportunity would turn into so much more than just one fun day.

After being invited to a couple Smosh shoots, you hit it off with a few of the cast members. You and Angela became close friends and invited you out with her, Chanse, and some of her other friends often. Angela had noticed Spencer and you giving each other eyes every time you were invited for videos and he  made sure he was either in the room watching the recording, or in the video when you were there. Eventually, Angela began to invite Spencer when you would agree to plans and vice versa. Then began what is arguably the best year of your life. 

After about a year of dating, Spencer and you began to hit a rough patch, both becoming incredibly busy and not being able to make time for each other. 

You are sitting at your desk deep in thought and frustration, looking at the near blank page in front of you. ‘Why are scripts so hard to start’ you think to yourself. You have about a thousand projects to finish and have started another one that was assigned to you by your script writing professor. You can never seem to get past that blank page without hours of frustration. The lingering editing projects and essays you also have unfinished cloud your mind and you are so visibly overwhelmed.

You feel arms wrap around you from behind your desk chair and you startle a tad. “Oh. Hey Spence, you scared me. Now's not a good time.” You say shortly, bringing him into your frustrated mind. “Why don’t you take a break? We could throw on a movie or something?” Spencer offers. “I really need to finish this, or start it I guess. I have a ton to do. I don't know if I have the time right now.” Tension grows in your voice and he squeezes your shoulder before leaving you alone.

Between school and passion projects, you never had time to do much anymore. And Spencer was drowning in his work schedule, trying to plan shoot weeks and games content and livestreams became taxing on him. The energy between the two of you began to dwindle and you would often break into exhaustion bridled arguments that always ended in one of you going back to your own apartment. The breakup made no sense to any of your friends, the two of you seemed perfect together. You were both always so supportive of each other and participated in each other’s hobbies and interests, you two were inseparable at one point. But the breakup made sense to you. You were sick of the fighting and so, so tired. It didn’t feel worth the fight anymore despite how much it hurt. Spencer hated the conversation. He loathed the fact that you gave up on fighting for him but he also felt the exhaustion of it all. 

Your finger lingers on his contact name. You fight your instincts and decide to call Angela instead. “Hey, honey! Happy Birthday! I love you!” You greet after she picks up. You both talk about the day ahead of her and her party later that night that Chanse and a few others are beginning to set up soon. “Yeah, hey! I think I’m gonna come out tonight. I want to celebrate with you and I have such a great gift.”

“Awwwe babe you don’t have to!” You can hear her smiling through the phone. “I’m so excited for you to come. It’s gonna be a relatively big party so hopefully you’ll barely even see Spencer.”

“It’s not even fair for me to be upset about seeing him. Like I’m the one who broke up with him. I feel like I don’t even have a right to be upset about it.”

“Your feelings are valid. Even if you’re the one who ended it, it’s still a tough thing to get through. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling.”

“I guess you’re right. I just don’t want him to hate me. I miss being around him. It's been months and It still hurts.”

While on the phone with Angela, she helps you pick out an outfit, landing on a casual green dress paired with your favorite doc martens. You felt pretty for the first time in months and you were excited to leave the house for once. You took your time getting ready, treating this like the event of the year. You weren’t going all out by any means but you felt good taking the time to get ready and feel good about yourself.

You take an uber to the venue just in case you have one too many drinks tonight. You’re early enough that you can help setting up the final bits of the party and Chanse puts you to work. You help set up tables and put out flowers and other finishing details and he runs off and makes sure everything else is going according to plan. People begin flooding in about half an hour later and Angela shows up not too long before the crowd.

“You look good, babe! Happy Birthday! Here’s your little gift, you can open it later if you want.” You smile at the birthday girl widely and give her hugs. 

“Oh my god! Stop! This is so cute!” Angela opens the bag to find a glass olive oil container with a pretty glass floral design. You remembered her talking about wanting some cuter kitchen stuff and you found the drizzle bottle at a local craft store and thought she’d love it. Angela put it away and after talking for a little bit, she excused herself to talk to some of her friends from Starkid. You wander to the snack table to see what kind of things they have and hopefully run into someone you know so you don’t look so alone. You grab yourself a little drink to keep your hands busy and scan the room for people to talk to. Unfortunately, you lock eyes with a particular curly haired boy. Of course you find him in a crowded room, you’ve always had a knack for finding him in crowds. I mean, who else would you possibly want to look at in a room full of people? You give him a tight smile, take a sip of your drink and try to look elsewhere. No matter where you looked, your mind kept wandering back to him. You wondered if he was still looking at you, if the eyes you felt burning into your skull were his, the eyes you had grown so used to. His eyes felt so familiar but so distant. You knew coming here was a bad idea, he corroded your thoughts without being anywhere near you, of course you were going to go crazy with him only some feet in front of you. You looked around again and found out that the eyes burning into your head were not his but a mere stranger’s. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

The eyes boring into your skull draw closer to you. The man introduces himself and you can’t seem to get his name to stick. You let him stick by your side because why not have a little fun? A distraction with a name you don’t remember might be what you need. He offers you another drink and you sit around with him and talk for a long while about nothing in particular. You think he’s talking about cars, his mustang, maybe? Who cares? All you can think about is Spencer. How he’s here somewhere, maybe flirting with some other girl or maybe, hopefully, he’s thinking about you. The man snags a flower from one of the nearby decorations and offers it to you, charmingly. “For you.” 

“Keep your flowers, let’s go dancing!” You offer with a spark in your eyes. He follows you to the floor as music blares through the speakers. You dance with the stranger while thinking of another. After a couple songs, the music cuts and Chanse is on stage beginning a little speech about our special, little Angela. Chanse planned out a couple show bits and after the speech, a musical number begins and the crowd is thrilled. You lean against the man you were dancing with and smile at how fun this whole thing is and how wonderful Chanse is at this whole party planning thing. 

You look around and once again make eye contact with Spencer. You feel a little loopy and you can’t tell if it's the alcohol, the lights, the music, or Spencer. You give him a little head tilt and brow scrunch, confused by his almost blank expression. He looked bored almost? Maybe annoyed? He is so hard to read nowadays. Not like you see him often anymore. He looks at the guy beside you and then back at you, jaw clenched. 

You look at the guy you’ve stuck around so far and decide you’ve had enough of him for now. “Hey, would you grab me a water?” He nods and walks off and you make eye contact with Spencer again. You think about going over there and talking to him but he wanders off before you get the chance. Luckily, you see Amanda across the room talking to a couple other Smosh members and decide to join them. “Hi, guys! Great party Chanse has done an amazing job!” You enter the group.

“Hey! Yeah, he’s great isn’t he? Angela seems to be having the time of her life! I’m glad you came!” Amanda greets. Shayne and Tommy speak about the party and the show before falling back into conversation about recent movies that have come out. 

Time passes and karaoke is a show stopper. Everyone is adoring the silly performances their friends are putting on. Chanse and Angela do a duet and people jokingly throw things on stage. The party is lively as ever and you cheer on all your friends as they go on stage. You and Shayne stick together, avoiding actually participating at all costs but continue to clap and cheer in support. The song is about to end and you look around to see who is going on next. Spencer looks at you and nods his head towards the stage, asking if you were gonna go up. You eyes go wide and you shake your head violently, he knows you would never. He laughs at your dramatics. 

Shayne sees this interaction and just nods and gives Spencer a look without you noticing. Spencer bites the corner of his lip and makes his way over to the two of you. “You guys should go up and do a duet” He laughs and you two look horrified at the idea. His laugh rings through your head. The absence of his laugh for the past few months has stung. 

“Yeah not happening tonight!” Shayne responds.

“You know I’d have to be like, totally out of my mind to even consider it, Spence.” The nickname rolls off your tongue so easily it almost startles you. It’s like you’ve fallen right back into place with him in front of you. But it’s never that easy. You and Spencer stay quiet for a moment and Shayne leaves quietly to find Courtney. 

“Hey.” He breaks the silence. 

“Hi” you merely squeak out. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach in anticipation for what he’s about to say.

“You look good. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been better, I suppose. How are you?”

“About the same.” Another silence passes between the two  of you. “So who was that guy earlier?” his voice comes out a little bitter.

“I truly have no idea. I’m not even fully sure if he gave me his name.” You spill honestly. Spencer seems to let out a breath he was holding. “I like this shirt, is it new?” You move your hand close to his chest before moving it away, realizing your actions.

“Um, yeah, sort of.” He scratches his head awkwardly and you take the moment to stare at his tattoos. The ones you used to fall asleep tracing. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” He looks at you with sad eyes and nods slightly, his eyes locking on something.

“Hey, you. Thought you left.” The guy from earlier comes up behind you and puts his hands on your waist. You look a little startled at the touch but you let it be. 

“Hey. Um, This is Spencer.” Your tone screams uncomfortable and Spencer’s jaw tightens. 

“Hey, dude.” “Hey, man. I think you’re making her uncomfortable.” You bite your lip at his bluntness and you feel the man’s grip tighten slightly. You try to slip out of his hold but he doesn’t let go. “Dude, she obviously doesn’t want you. Give it up.” The man goes to fight back but you push away again and he gets the hint. 

“Sorry, man” he puts his hands up and walks away. Spencer scoffs and steps closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You okay?” Your breath catches a little and you just nod in response. “I didn’t like how that guy had his hands on you all night. He seems so annoying.” you smirk a little, catching the jealousy in his voice.

“You know, not so long ago you were the annoying one who couldn’t keep your hands off me.” You smile at him and he laughs a little.

“Well at least you could remember my name!” a moment passes and you notice how close you are, your hand on his chest. He watches your gaze move from him to your hand and back to him. “He didn’t deserve to be so close to you when you look this damn good.” His voice dropped and it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Are you just gonna tell me how good I look or are you gonna show me? Make your move.” You tempt him, trying to navigate where this will go next. His brows raise in shock and he recovers quickly, moving his hand to your face and leaning towards you. 

“What’s your angle here?” He’s so close to you and your brain takes a second to figure out what he actually said.

“Let’s have ourselves a little bit of fun?” You lean in further and finally meet his lips. You only allow it to be chaste and you spin around and start leading him out the door. He stays still, stunned for a moment before following you right out the door. “Hurry or I’ll be in another man’s jeans!” you tease.

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule, Part 4 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: Let’s put it this way, I don’t remember writing this. But it certainly exists so you may have it, I want to rewatch this movie completely legally🏴‍☠️, but I’m not at home and I can’t. Physically weeping as I type this.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: kind of suggestive (honestly not sure, it’s pretty late and my brain doesn’t work), minor swearing, I’m beginning to forget the movie so forgive me, very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

A rodeo, he brought her to a rodeo. 

And not just any rodeo, but one in the middle of tornado valley. For the amount of tornadoes this place gets, there are a lot of people here. It makes her nervous. 

Thankfully, there are idiots on horses to keep her entertained, and reminiscing about her childhood. 

At some point, Tyler leaned over. Pressing his shoulder to hers and ducking his head so she could hear him. His breath just ghosting her ear. 

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Not even close.”

Her eyes flicked to his, grinning up at him. He’s certain the sight of her smiling at him is going to be seared in his brain forever. 

Especially when she shuffled closer, so that she could be heard. Their thighs pressed together nearly as close as their shoulders. He could smell the faint traces of her perfume, he wishes she’d put some on before they’d left.

“Daddy used to compete in rodeos, up until we were eleven. He had an accident, and mom told him that if he ever did it again it wouldn’t be the bulls he had to worry about.”

He loves her mom, right now she’s the greatest woman in the world. Besides the pretty woman that she created, sat pressed against him. 

Her eyes went back to the rodeo, but his didn’t, watching her profile and wondering how he got so.. smitten.

Nudging her with his shoulder, he gave that bright grin - a real, happy grin that people are accustomed to. 

“I’m learning all sorts about you Alpine.”

“That you are, and yet you remain an enigma.”

“Aww, you don’t have to go about using all kinds of fancy words, you can just call me pretty.”

They both laughed at that, hushed and slightly giggled. Like a pair of schoolchildren mucking about in assembly and didn’t want to get caught. 

Leaning into each other, wondering why everything feels so much funnier when they’re together. 

But then she nudged him, telling him to actually tell her something about himself.

“I used to compete too, got stomped in the head a little too much and figured college would do me a little better.” He fidgeted with his watch, fitting it properly to his wrist. “I don’t mean to pry, but since we’re in a sharing mood, what’s up with Kate and Javi?”

She gave a long suffering sigh, and he realised he might’ve just hit a sensitive subject. But before he can tell her not to worry about it, she’s smiling at him. 

She’d leant away now, and he doesn’t like it, leaning with her arms on the back of the seats, her legs crossed and no longer against his. 

Is it selfish? To want her close again? Because he can be selfish if that’s what it takes. 

“He’s always had a thing for her. We used to work together, a group of us. Me and Javi were dating, Kate had her boyfriend, but I knew he loved her. I looked a lot more like her then.. I was a replacement but that was fine because at least I could pretend I was loved.”

Giving Tyler a soft smile, she realised that was probably a little more than he bargained for. 

Not knowing that he was currently cycling through all the ways he could murder the guy and shove him into a tornado to make it look like an accident. 

He could do it, it’s not hard to shove a dead body into a tornado when you drive into them for a living.

“Maybe he’ll finally get his head out his ass and ask her out. I doubt it though, he’s terrified of rejection.”

Tyler nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and then leant back with her. Arms going around the back of the chairs, fingers dusting her shoulder. 

Somehow, even that small touch was enough for her body to become instantly aware of the lingering heat from when they’d been pressed together. 

Then he gave her another one of those smiles, and she could’ve melted straight through the plastic. 

“If you want, I could run him over and send him up into a tornado. Let God and the weather do their things.”

She laughed - thank God she laughed - and he’s certain that he’s found something more beautiful than any tornado he’d ever chased in his entire life. 

And when she calmed down to look at him, smile still playing at those pretty kissable lips, her hands swatted out against his chest. 

“Don’t make it sound like you murder people so often, I have to get back in the truck with you.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that Alpine. You’re too pretty to murder, can’t have the world bereft of that face now can we?”

Before she can answer, a swirl of leaves assault the audience, including them. Leaves that, really, were too violent to have just been caught up in a gust of wind. 

Picking one up, she crumpled the leaves and then opened her palm. The way they spread out left her nervous. 

“Were you tracking out this way?”

Looking to him nervously, she didn’t like that look on his face. Because they had been, but from the data, even Kate said the one out this way shouldn’t form anything too bad. 

Maybe the conditions for the tornado improved, because it definitely seems like something had touched down. By the way the bleachers are rattling. 

He didn’t answer either, just looking around at all the people here, calculating the tragedies if something did set down. 

But it hadn’t, or else they would’ve gotten—

All at the same time the tornado warnings sounded on their phones, and everyone began to panic, including her. 

Snapped out of it by Tyler taking her hand and getting her up. Pulling her through the crowd. 

“Come on, we need to find shelter!”

It’s hard to hear over the wind, and when she heard shit start flying off behind them, her blood felt sharp in her veins and she kept up the pace next to him. 

Glad he’s got her hand in his or she’s not sure how fast she could run. 

“I don’t- I don’t go into tornadoes, I do the data. I don’t go into the fucking things! I’m not you, I’m not used to this.”

He pulled her to a stop just inside a motel parking area, thankfully covered for now. Grabbing her shoulders and looking at her sincerely, realising that she really was scared. 

He knew she stayed back, he didn’t know why, but the genuine terror on her face said enough. 

“You’ll be alright, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt by this thing. But we need to get to shelter, okay?”

As he started pulling her along, all the noise rushed back to her and made her feel sick. Aware of the crashes and the screams, and the drag of metal on metal as the motel threatened to break apart. 

A woman was trying to get her daughter into the car, and she dragged Tyler to a stop. 

“No! No, don’t get in your car!! Get out, come here!”

They did, thank God, and joined them in the motel. Shoving past the idiot at the desk who clearly doesn’t know what’s going on. 

Everyone talking all over each other about basements or shelters. 

She was going a little haywire, and caught onto the crash of a metal gate swinging back and forth. The pool. It’s emptied and the wall would’ve been opened for maintenance. 

There’d be an alcove for them to huddle in and hopefully things to hold onto. 

Grabbing Tyler’s arm and shouting over everyone else. 

“Come on! We haven’t got time to argue, follow me!”

Shouldering open the door, she knew the woman and her child were close behind. As well as the clerk, while Tyler was trying to convince the two idiots that there was actually a tornado. 

Helping the woman into the pool, both her and her daughter were sobbing, not that she blamed them. It’s a miracle that she isn’t. 

Once the little girl was safely in her mom’s arms, she motioned for them to get to the end of the pool. 

Turning around to look for Tyler, she felt his hands on her waist from behind, easing her quickly towards the ladder to get into the pool. Allowing herself a moment to breathe. 

Until she caught sight of that couple trying to drive away, getting caught up in the tornado that is way too close for comfort.

Hurrying down, she reached up for Tyler, half wanting him to just jump down, and get to safety as quickly as possible. Pressing a hand to his back to stable him as he dropped down. 

Both of them rush over to alcove with the woman and her daughter. 

Showing them where to hold, and that she should keep her daughter’s eyes covered from any debris. And not to let go or look around for any reason. 

As she started to get a grip on the pipes, she heard a shriek from the motel clerk. He had tried to stand up while Tyler was helping him, and was sent to the shallow end. 

Then the idiot tried again and was dragged off into the sky. Her heart was heavy in her throat as she watched Tyler turn and start to crawl back to them. Fighting against the wind. 

Holding on tight to the pipes, but leaning out with her hand as far as she could go. Desperately reaching for him. 

Especially when a bus or something landed in the pool and started to tip over them. He’d be crushed. 

She’s too panicked to really think about anything other than making sure he grabbed her hand. Because she wasn’t losing anyone else - not him. 

As soon as his palm connected to hers, she pulled hard, to give him that small bit of leverage he needed right as the bus fell. 

He pressed up behind her, keeping both her, and the woman pinned to the pipes, holding on as best he could. They got a little more cover from the bus, thankfully, but the wind was still bad. 

With one arm still curled around the pipes, her other reached back to get a handful of his shirt. He was not going anywhere. 

Once it was over, all of them soaked and panting, and pretty injured from projectiles, they finally let go. 

Of the pipes, anyway. She couldn’t let go of his shirt yet, even as his hands found her waist. Digging in, to help her stand and reassure himself they’re still alive. 

Once they’d stood, and stumbled out from around the bus, they walked up to the shallow end to look around. 

The town - the rodeo - had been decimated. 

And with his hands still comfortably on her waist, she eased the grip on his shirt. Finally turning and wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing as tight as she could to try and now reassure herself. 

They’re both alive; they’re both okay. 

He hugged her back just as tightly, and she’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline from surviving, but she never wants to be anywhere but his arms ever again. 

Want more?! Good!

[polo-drone-055]

Polo Drone Thanksgiving Convergence

The crisp autumn morning was filled with excitement as the Thompson family prepared for their annual outing to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The kids, Emily and Jake, were bouncing with joy, eagerly anticipating the giant balloons and festive floats. Their mother, Rachel, was bustling around, making sure everyone was dressed warmly and had a hearty breakfast.

As the family gathered in the living room, waiting for everyone to be ready, Tom, the father, sat down with a cup of coffee and flipped through the stack of Black Friday ads. He was a deal hunter by nature, always looking for the best bargains. But today, something caught his eye that left him scratching his head.

“Rachel, come look at this,” Tom called out, his brow furrowed in confusion. He held up an ad showing a sleek, black, rubber-like polo shirt being promoted by several stores. “Can you believe this? It looks like everyone is selling these weird black rubber shirts this year. What’s the deal with this trend?”

Rachel chuckled as she walked over, glancing at the ad. “Oh, Tom, it’s just fashion. You know how these trends can be. Last year it was those oversized sweaters, and this year, it’s apparently rubber shirts. I guess they’re supposed to look futuristic or something.”

Tom shook his head, still not convinced. “Futuristic? They look like something out of a sci-fi movie. I just don’t get it. Who would want to wear a rubber shirt?”

Emily, who had been listening in, piped up. “Maybe they’re for superheroes, Dad! Like those suits they wear in the movies.”

Jake joined in, adding his own theory. “Or maybe they’re for people who spill a lot. You know, easier to clean up!”

Tom laughed, ruffling Jake’s hair. “You two might be onto something. But I think I’ll stick to my good old cotton polos.”

Rachel smiled and gave Tom a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey. You don’t have to understand every trend. Let’s just focus on having a great day at the parade.”

With everyone finally ready, they grabbed their coats and headed out the door, their minds filled with thoughts of balloons, marching bands, and holiday cheer. As they walked towards the subway, Tom took one last look at the ad, still bemused by the rubber shirts, but more than ready to enjoy the day with his family.

After some hunting, they found a perfect spot along the bustling parade route. The streets were packed with excited spectators, their faces lit up with anticipation. The children, Emily and Jake, squeezed their way to the front, eager for the best view. Rachel and Tom stood just behind them, holding hands, feeling the festive energy in the air.

As the parade began, a wave of cheers and applause swept through the crowd. The grand turkey float, a staple of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, rolled into view, adorned with vibrant feathers and sparkling lights. Its massive size and intricate design captivated everyone, young and old alike.

Emily and Jake were transfixed, their eyes wide with wonder as the float passed by. They pointed out every detail, from the golden beak to the colorful autumn leaves decorating the base. Rachel smiled, soaking in their joy, while Tom couldn’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm.

Amid the excitement, no one seemed to notice the details that Tom had found so peculiar earlier that morning. The performers on the float, who were waving and dancing energetically, wore an array of costumes, some of which included the very black rubber polo shirts he had seen in the ads. The shirts, now part of the parade's futuristic-themed segment, blended seamlessly with the other costumes and props, adding a modern twist to the traditional spectacle.

Tom leaned in towards Rachel and whispered, “Look at that, some of them are wearing those rubber shirts. I guess they found a way to make them look…interesting.”

Rachel glanced up, her eyes catching the glint of the shirts under the parade lights. She smiled and nodded. “Well, at least now we know they’re not just for superheroes or messy eaters.”

They shared a quiet laugh, the moment adding a personal touch to the grand event.

The first balloon of the parade, a towering Kung Fu Panda, floated into view, eliciting gasps and cheers from the crowd. Po, the beloved panda, soared high above the street, his enormous form swaying gently in the crisp autumn breeze. Below him, a group of clowns, dressed in colorful, traditional clown outfits, guided the balloon with expert precision. Their costumes, however, had an unexpected twist: each clown sported a black rubber polo shirt beneath their vibrant suspenders and oversized pants.

Tom noticed it first. His eyes locked onto the peculiar combination of the whimsical clown attire and the futuristic black shirts. He elbowed Rachel gently, nodding towards the clowns. “Look, they’re wearing those shirts again,” he muttered, unable to hide his bemusement.

As the clowns danced and waved, the parade watchers—especially the men—began to focus on the black rubber shirts. There was something oddly mesmerizing about the contrast between the playful clown costumes and the sleek, modern shirts. It sparked conversations among them, a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

“I didn’t think these shirts would catch on like this,” Tom remarked, half to himself, half to Rachel.

Rachel laughed softly. “Well, it looks like they’re becoming quite the fashion statement. Even the clowns are in on it!”

The men around Tom shared similar sentiments, their attention divided between the spectacular parade and the strange allure of the rubber shirts. Some were intrigued, others skeptical, but all found themselves oddly captivated.

The children, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the fashion discussion. Emily and Jake were entirely focused on the towering Kung Fu Panda, their faces glowing with excitement as they pointed and cheered.

As the parade continued, the anticipation grew with every passing float and balloon. Then came the police unit, marching with precision and pride.

They were dressed in impressive uniforms from head to toe—shiny tall black boots, tight shiny black runner pants, and the now infamous black rubber polo shirts, accented with striking gold details. Their ensemble was topped off with crisp, shiny black caps, completing the look of modern authority.

The sight of the police unit was mesmerizing. The men watching the parade found themselves captivated, their attention riveted to the officers’ uniforms. It was as if the world around them had faded away; their minds went blank, completely consumed by the sleek and polished appearance of the unit.

Tom, like many others, stood still, his gaze fixed on the marching officers. He barely noticed the tug on his sleeve from Emily or the questions from Jake. The uniforms had a hypnotic effect, drawing all the men's eyes leaving them entranced.

Rachel, sensing the shift, glanced at Tom and the other men around them, a mix of amusement and curiosity on her face. She gently nudged Tom, bringing him back to the present. “Tom, are you okay?” she asked, smiling.

Tom blinked, his trance broken. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…those uniforms are something else,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

The children, unaware of the fashion statement causing such a reaction, continued to watch the parade with delight. The police unit moved on, their presence leaving an indelible impression on the crowd. For Tom and the other men, the image of the black rubber police uniforms would linger in their minds

As the parade continued, a new spectacle caught the attention of the crowd. A marching band, resplendent in black rubber uniforms that gleamed under the parade lights, approached in perfect formation. Each member wore the now-familiar black rubber polo shirts, the uniforms reflecting an eerie sheen.

The moment the band came into view, the men in the crowd, including Tom, fell silent and still, their gazes fixed on the band. It was as if an invisible force had taken hold of them, rendering them oblivious to everything around them. The air was thick with a sense of anticipation and unease.

The band's music started softly, a harmonious blend of brass and percussion that gradually grew louder. Within the melody, subtle yet insistent, were the words "obey, serve" embedded seamlessly into the notes. The mantra repeated over and over, threading through the music like a whispering command.

The men, entranced by the uniforms and the hypnotic quality of the music, stood frozen, their minds blank. They heard nothing but the embedded words, "obey, serve," resonating within their subconscious. The children tugged at their fathers' sleeves, asking questions and seeking attention, but received no response. Rachel, along with the other women and unaffected spectators, looked on with growing concern.

The band continued to play, their synchronized movements and powerful music creating an almost surreal atmosphere. No matter what Rachel tried—calling out to Tom, shaking his shoulder—nothing could break the trance that held him and the other men captive.

The parade marched on, the dazzling floats and colorful characters passing by unnoticed by the entranced men. For them, the world had shrunk to the relentless repetition of "obey, serve," echoing in their minds, binding them to the spell of the marching band.

As the band moved further along the parade route, the music gradually faded, and the spell began to lift. The men blinked, as if waking from a deep sleep, slowly becoming aware of their surroundings again. Tom shook his head, feeling disoriented. He turned to Rachel, confusion etched on his face.

"Rachel, what happened?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Rachel, relieved but still worried, put a comforting hand on his arm. "You were in a trance, Tom. All of you were. I think it was the band… their uniforms and the music."

As the final segment of the parade approached, the anticipation in the air reached its peak. The firemen, traditionally the final group before Santa’s grand entrance, marched in with an air of authority.

They were dressed in full rubber uniforms, their shiny black polo shirts gleaming under the bright parade lights. Their presence exuded a sense of strength and unity, a stark contrast to the festive chaos around them.

The moment the men in the crowd caught sight of the firemen, the transformation was instant. Eyes glazed over, expressions turned blank, and, as if controlled by an unseen force, they began to move forward, pushing through the throngs of people, shoving their wives and children aside in their single-minded pursuit.

Rachel tried to hold onto Tom, but his strength and determination overpowered her. The children looked up in confusion and fear as their fathers moved in unison towards the curb, their movements mechanical, their gazes fixed on the marching firemen.

Then, in a spectacle that defied belief, Santa Claus appeared, bringing the holiday season to life. But to the shock of the women and children, Santa too was dressed in a shiny black rubber suit, with a black buttoned-up polo shirt prominently displayed. The traditional red and white suit was gone, replaced by this futuristic, unnerving attire.

As Santa’s float passed by, he began throwing black polo shirts into the crowd. The men, now in a full trance, scrambled to catch them, clawing over one another in desperation. The sight was both surreal and unsettling, as these ordinarily composed men fought for the shirts like their very lives depended on it.

Each man who managed to grab a shirt put it on immediately. The transformation was complete; they stood at perfect attention, their expressions devoid of any emotion, their minds seemingly blank. The parade continued, but for the families of these men, the day had taken an unexpected and eerie turn.

Rachel held her children close, her heart pounding with a mix of confusion and fear. She glanced around at the other bewildered wives and mothers, all of them sharing the same look of shock and helplessness.

As Santa’s float proceeded down the street, the festive atmosphere took on an even stranger turn. Behind the sleigh came a line of men dressed in the same black rubber uniforms, but this time with ominous gas masks covering their faces. Their silent, methodical movements added a chilling undertone to the parade.

These masked men approached each individual at the curb who had donned the new black polo. Without a word, they placed gas masks over the men’s faces. Almost instantaneously, the men fell into line, their movements synchronized and robotic. They left the curb, stepping into the street to join the parade.

The wives and children, already bewildered by the events, watched in horror and confusion as their loved ones marched away, now part of this enigmatic collective. The men, now resembling drones more than individuals, moved in perfect formation, their expressions blank, their minds seemingly lost.

Santa, leading this surreal procession, continued to distribute the black polos, reinforcing the transformation. The spectacle left the crowd in stunned silence, the festive joy overshadowed by the eerie uniformity of the new recruits.

Rachel clutched her children tightly, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty. She searched for Tom among the ranks of the newly transformed, but he was already lost in the sea of identical figures. The parade continued, each step of the marching men echoing like a haunting drumbeat.

As the final float disappeared from sight, the wives and children were left standing, the parade route now eerily quiet

As Jake grew up, the memories of that Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the mysterious transformation of his father lingered in the back of his mind. The image of the black rubber polo shirts and the blissful expression on his father’s face became an obsession, a puzzle piece he could never quite fit into place. The desire to understand and experience what his father had gone through grew stronger with each passing year.

On his 18th birthday, Jake received a package in the mail. His mother had no knowledge of it, and the sender's identity was a mystery. With a mix of curiosity and anticipation, he opened the package. Inside was a black rubber polo shirt, identical to the ones he remembered from that fateful day.

Jake felt a strange pull as he ran his fingers over the smooth material. The sensation was both thrilling and unsettling. Without hesitation, he slipped the shirt on, feeling its cool embrace against his skin. Almost immediately, his mind went blank, the words "obey" and "serve" echoing in his consciousness like a relentless mantra.

Robotic in his movements, Jake stood up and made his way to the front door. He opened it to find a figure standing there, a polo drone who had once been his father, waiting for him.

The drone placed a gas mask over Jake's face, and a wave of overwhelming joy and ecstasy washed over him. The connection was immediate and profound, an inexplicable sense of unity and purpose.

Jake had become one with the polo drone collective, joining his father and others who had been transformed. The bliss he felt was indescribable, a fusion of consciousness with a larger entity. As he marched away, his mind completely aligned with the collective’s purpose, he left behind a family that would never truly understand where he had gone or what he had become of him, his father or the other men who attended that Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

[celebrityfanfictionblog]

All in the Family

Chapter One: Bunker’s Bargain

In the modest home at 704 Hauser Street in Queens, the air was always thick with tension between Archie Bunker and his son-in-law, Mike “Meathead” Stivic. Their ideological clashes were legendary, but today, the argument was over Mike’s job situation and his habit of eating them out of house and home.

Mike, with his liberal ideals and his ongoing studies, was often short on cash, and this time, he had borrowed from Archie yet again. As the two sat in the living room, the tension was palpable, not just from their usual squabbles but from the unspoken strain of their financial entanglement.

“Meathead, when are you gonna learn to stand on your own two feet instead of mooching off me?” Archie grumbled, his voice carrying the weight of his frustration.

Frustrated, Mike decided to take a different approach to settle the matter.

“Alright, Archie, maybe I can help earn my keep another way,” Mike suggested, his voice dripping with sarcasm but his eyes holding a challenging glint as he knelt in front of Archie in his favorite chair.

Archie raised an eyebrow, his face a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “What, you gonna give me some of your commie books?”

“No, something more… personal,” Mike said, his voice lowering, his eyes holding a challenge.

Archie scoffed, but there was a flicker of interest. “What are you talking about, you dumb Polack?”

Mike moved closer, his hand resting on Archie’s knee, his voice a whisper now. “How about I give you something you’ve probably never thought about but might enjoy?”

Archie’s eyes widened, the shock evident, but there was an undercurrent of something else. “You mean…?”

Mike nodded, his hand sliding up Archie’s thigh. “Let’s call it an exchange of services.”

In the quiet of the Bunker household, with Edith out shopping and Gloria at work, the living room seemed to shrink around them. Archie, caught between his conservative morals and a burgeoning curiosity, gave a reluctant nod.

Mike knelt before him, the act of submission both a mockery and an offer. Archie watched, his breath catching as Mike undid his belt, his movements deliberate and strangely respectful. Mike’s hands pulled down Archie’s pants to reveal a cock that was surprisingly impressive - about 6 inches long, thick, veined, and standing at full mast. Mike licked his lips, inhaling Archie’s musky scent, the smell of a man who had worked hard all day.

“Holy Jeez,” Archie gasped as Mike licked from the base to the tip of his shaft, the sensation sending shudders of pleasure through him. His technique both teasing and masterful, learned perhaps from his more liberal college days.

He then took Archie into his mouth, feeling the veins with his lips as he moved up and down, the taste of Archie’s precum salty and sharp on his tongue. Archie’s grip tightened on the armrests, his gruff exterior showing signs of crumbling under the pleasure. Archie’s salty precum touched Mike’s tongue, and he glanced up, seeing Archie’s eyes glazed with unexpected pleasure, a clear sign that Mike had him under his control.

Mike worked Archie’s cock with both his mouth and hand, his head bobbing in a steady rhythm, his own arousal evident in his tightening pants. He was determined to milk Archie for all he had, to see if he could break through that stubborn, bigoted exterior. Archie’s moans grew, his voice a rough, unfamiliar sound of pleasure, his hands moving from the chair to Mike’s shoulders, gripping but not pushing away.

The room filled with the sounds of wet, eager sucking, the musky, sexual scent overwhelming. Mike could feel Archie’s cock pulsing in his mouth, the veins pronounced under his lips. He knew Archie was close, his hips now thrusting upwards to meet Mike’s movements.

With a final, deep suck, Mike pulled back just in time as Archie’s cock slipped from his mouth, erupting in spurts of hot cum that painted Mike’s face. Mike felt the warm cum slowly trickle down his face, thankfully missing his eyes.

Opening his eyes, Mike saw Archie’s softening cock, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. Mike ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the salty, slightly bitter essence of Archie, then stood to fetch some tissue paper from the desk to wipe his face. The room was heavy with the aftermath of what had just happened, the usual tension replaced by a thick, tangible silence. Archie, his breathing slowing, looked at Mike with a mix of confusion and a strange, reluctant satisfaction.

“You better not tell nobody about this, Meathead,” Archie warned, his voice deep, still edged with his usual gruffness but lacking its typical bite.

Mike chuckled, tossing the tissue into the wastebasket. “Don’t worry, Archie. This stays between us. Unless you want to make it a regular payment plan,” he teased, his tone light but with an undercurrent of sincerity.

Archie rolled his eyes, pulling his pants back up, “Don’t push your luck, you dumb Polack.” But there was no real venom in his words, only the remnants of his pride battling with the new dynamic they’d just forged.

The moment stretched between them, the sound of New York City outside offering a distant backdrop to their quiet, changed world inside 704 Hauser Street. Mike moved to sit on the couch, looking at Archie with a newfound curiosity.

“So, what now, Archie? Back to arguing about politics and jobs?” Mike asked, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes challenging yet playful.

Archie, now settled back in his chair, his favorite place where this unexpected turn had unfolded, looked at Mike with a contemplative gaze. “Guess we’ll see if you can keep your mouth shut about this as well as you can use it,” he quipped, a wry smile breaking through his usual scowl.

They both laughed, the sound foreign in the context of their usual bickering. The laughter eased something between them, a tension that had been there since Mike married Gloria.

“Alright, Meathead, let’s watch the news. I gotta see if the world’s gone as crazy as we have,” Archie said, turning on the TV, his tone lighter, though still unmistakably Archie.

As they sat in the glow of the television, their argumentative nature would return, but tonight, there was a new layer to their relationship, hidden behind the mask of their usual antagonism. For Archie and Mike, this night would be a strange footnote in their ongoing saga.

This narrative is a work of fiction based on characters from “All in the Family” and does not reflect the actual content or themes of the series. It includes explicit sexual content and is intended for mature audiences.