#AND ALSO WHICH OF THOSE BUILDINGS EVEN COUNT AS PART OF THE ARSENAL

[ivy-and-ivory]

Hey :) So the next time you hear me start to say :) hmmmm :) maybe I should set this fic in a highly specific real-world location :) that might be kind of fun :) the next time I say that :) please :) for the love of god :) somebody :) fucking :) stop :) me :)

[tiredassmage]

Well, I think Friday night attested enough to the fact that I'm back on a swing of Tyr brainrot, so I think it's about time I get back up on my little dynamics soapbox and talk another area of his possibly logic-defying loyalties. I miss Ardun Kothe, dude. I miss that old man.

I was gonna save this until I got far enough in... whichever number playthrough edition I'm on at this point, I've lost count, but. I'm in my feelings too much to wait.

Kind of the short of it is there's... quite a bit he pulls from his relationship with the Minister that also shows up in his relationship with Ardun. Which does put Tyr in a pretty interesting position at the end of the Agent campaign, so with that said, we're naturally in pretty decently big Agent storyline spoilers for Chapters 2 & 3, so newer friends and wanderers, that will be under a cut if you wish or need to avoid those until a later date.

I almost wish I had some eloquent way to build all of this up, but I don't really feel like I do. Because what I do have is that I think Tyr's forgiveness of Ardun for the entirety of the Castellans starts almost the moment Ardun finalizes his orders.

Of course, in the moment, his entire life's just gotten upended and his priorities are... shaken, to understate. But under Castellan orders or not, Tyr's mission orders from Imperial Intelligence were to find out Kothe's plan and only then eliminate. Standing on Nar Shadaa with a blaster leveled at the man on their first meeting was thus never part of Tyr's plan to begin with.

But Ardun says enough here that will setup the rest of their relationship. "With the lives we've saved.., maybe we'll both find forgiveness."

So, what Tyr learns about Ardun here that then tracks through the rest of his time as part of his SIS team is Ardun's respected and trusted by his team - with the same kind of trust that Tyr affords the Minister of Intelligence [that is, Tyr trusts he'll never be asked to do anything unduly harmful to himself, without very good reasoning]. What Tyr defines as "unduly harmful" is... not exactly the layman, reasonable person's "unduly harmful," as pretty much evidenced by how he responds to the introduction of the Castellan Restraints and why they were used on him, but that's it's own post and more on that with his relationship with the Minister.

More than anything, I think it's that even one second at a glimpse of some sort of remorse that Tyr gets in this initial conversation that makes Ardun Kothe a man Tyr's still willing to trust, despite this being their introduction.

Because Ardun goes on to be the kind of leader Tyr's willing to follow. Kothe trusts his team, and it's hard to trust Tyr as this would-be defector because it would backfire on his team first. One of Ardun's hard-set orders is not being able to harm the team.

Then Chance is pulled off of Taris and looked after. Chance might not be able to rejoin them, but he's getting treatment. He's taken care of. In general, broad strokes, when Tyr offers trust to Ardun, Ardun responds. They've already spoken on I wouldn't trust me, either, so there's no use dwelling on it.

In the end, Tyr's takeaway - his assessment, if you will - of Ardun Kothe is that he's a man with regrets. He's another leader trying to do his best for the people reporting to him when his hands have been bound by undesirable circumstances. Unlike the tensions that develop pretty much from the start between Tyr and Hunter, Tyr never quite finds Kothe delighting in the use of the Castellans, even if he does continue to use them. And that's enough of a difference in handling for Tyr to notice and respect.

So, Ardun Kothe survives the trip to Quesh and the Shadow Arsenal - for a mix of Tyr's respect of his leadership of his team and the absolute harrowing nature and exhaustion of the last several months of work, trying to survive acting as a double agent, trying to unravel the story behind the Castellans and their use on Intelligence operatives... Tyr lets the entire SIS team walk. [Excepting Hunter, in the end, but Tyr's not particular counting the one that was playing them all against each other for bloodsport, and that's, again, not exactly for this post lol.]

And then they run into each other again on Corellia. It's for the best for both of them that Ardun believes his story when he lays out the setup of the Star Cabal. It's one interaction that could've hurt them if Ardun had insisted on taking him in - because Tyr had a job to finish, and no amount of his dissatisfaction with the Sith and the dissolution of Imperial Intelligence was going to change that Tyr believed the Star Cabal was a threat far greater than all of it. Ardun trusting his judgement.

And that leaves us with the Black Codex and the interesting... you could call it 'betrayal' of Tyr caught between his loyalty to the Minister, to Imperial Intelligence specifically, rather than the Empire as a whole, and his loyalty to his ideals, to himself - to everything Ardun is, in essence, offering by suggesting Legate stick around. Especially after the Minister just got done reminding Tyr about the difference between ideals and goals, and how theirs is a society that relies upon authority to make changes - progress.

Because there's a part of Tyr that already knows he risks the people he just spent the last several years fighting for by handing over that Codex to Ardun Kothe. Everything Tyr just spent trying to make the last gasp of Imperial Intelligence mean something, to prove their worth in their final hours is still at risk if this final proof isn't produced. If he doesn't deliver this to "safe hands."

But for all their talk of ideals... What both the Minister and Ardun Kothe have done is shown Tyr to fight for what's important to him and hang onto it with both hands, bloody knuckles and all. Because it's never guaranteed. Because someone else will always find it a risk. There's always the threat of non-conformity. The line between obedience and ingenuity, as Lokin calls it.

In a sense, choosing the Minister or Ardun, if he's able to continue working directly for either, offer him the same kind of protection: the same faith in his abilities. But behind them is still the Empire and the Republic. Neither are perfect. Tyr might be a man who's more fond of his ideals than he may realize, but he isn't naive. But the ideals of those sides on paper are not the same, and so the question becomes just as much about what are you willing to fight for? Who do you really want to be?

Ardun won't be able to magically pull him out of the precarious position Tyr ends up in by accepting Ardun's offer to maintain work as a double agent. Some might've been inclined to argue if Ardun would've ever actually pulled him out of the Empire because that wasn't even part of their original verbal agreement. In the end, the galaxy got far more messy than either of them could've predicted at the time and such musings no longer matter in an era of the Alliance.

But Tyr ultimately decided to trust the man with his life. A little remorse was enough to tell Tyr there was some recognition of the whole situation. Ardun he trusts did not do what he did out of direct malice. He looks up to him, respects him. A bit of a supportive authority and even parental figure that... Tyr didn't exactly have growing up. In this kind of work, someone like Tyr will hang on to the few people he feels he can trust and respect. There's not a lot of them. I think even just... having a connection where the openly-stated goal was to work together for something better did a lot for Tyr. There was a lot about his career in the wake of Imperial Intelligence's downfall that was isolating - and yes, some was in part because of his position as a double agent, because of that decision made with the Black Codex. But it was a reminder that it was worth it. It was possible to fight for something better. Ardun gave him that chance.

And, of course, they played a fair few hands of Centran Sabacc, by the end. Tyr will never say where he learned, but a fond, nostalgic smile will usually accompany those memories of evenings spent between missions playing cards with the SIS team, checking weapons with Saber and Wheel, wresting with Chance. Those were the kind of memories, the kind of friends worth fighting for.

[queerofthedagger]

3, 13, 23, 33, 43, 53, 63, 73 :)

Oh wow, thanks for the ask nonnie!! <33

3. Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

I share them with my close friends, but otherwise I mostly keep them to myself! It's both that I'm a bit like a dragon with a hord over my ideas, and also that if I do talk about them too much/in too much detail, I'll lose motivation to actually write them

13. Do you listen to music while you write?  If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Yes! I have several writing playlists with different vibes, but what I've been listening to a lot these last few days is flora cash and dave hause, specifically these two songs:

23. Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

I know people tend to say the middle is hardest, but personally I have the biggest beef with endings, as well as the 20k curse (meaning, after 20k words I'll get stuck, whether that's the middle or not. It's a Thing and I hate it). Beginnings tend to be easiest, as is the middle building up to the ending when everything's coming together!

33. Is there a specific word count that you hold yourself to/enjoy writing the most?

Not at all, my shortest fic is 100 words long and the longest 150k; I just think it depends on the story what works best! That said, I'm absolutely notorious for failing to predict my word counts - I thought said 150k fic would end up being 30k, much to everyone's amusement 😂💀

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

Yeah several!! Breaking Up & Making Up, Groundhog Day, Age Difference.... I could go on

53. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Canon Divergence, followed closely by Angst with a Happy Ending 😄

63. What was the hardest part of writing [insert fic]?

As you haven't specified a fic, I'll take the chance to talk about 'There Are Many Names in History' because tbh it's still my personal favourite. And the hardest part of that was the scene where they go through the archive and encounter all those "last wills" of people who died from AIDS. Generally the research for that fic was rough even though I loved it, but that's probably what was hardest not only to know on a basic level, but tie into a narrative while doing it justive.

73. What do you tend to get complimented on the most about your writing?

Oh that's a hard one. I think it's probably a toss-up between characterization, conveying emotions, and my prose? Which.. are the things I do care most about so it's always great to hear it worked <3

Send me a Fic Writing Asks!

[usascripthelpersofficial]

BANANA SMOOTHIE FOR WEIGHT LOSS

Smoothies have become a staple in the diets of those looking to lose weight without sacrificing flavor. Among the plethora of smoothie recipes available, banana smoothies stand out for their creamy texture, natural sweetness, and nutritional benefits. Not only are they delicious, but banana smoothies can also be a potent tool in your weight loss arsenal when prepared with the right ingredients. Here's how you can make banana smoothies a healthy part of your weight loss journey.

Why Bananas?

Bananas are more than just a sweet, convenient snack. They are packed with essential vitamins and minerals such as vitamin C, potassium, and manganese. Bananas are also rich in fiber, especially when slightly underripe. This fiber can help to keep you feeling full longer, which reduces the likelihood of unnecessary snacking. Additionally, the natural sweetness of bananas can satisfy sugar cravings, making it easier to avoid high-calorie, processed sweets.

Ingredients to Include

To make your banana smoothie a weight loss-friendly beverage, it's important to choose your ingredients wisely. Here are some additions that can boost the nutritional profile of your smoothie without adding excessive calories:

Leafy Greens: Spinach or kale can add a wealth of nutrients including iron, folate, and vitamins A, C, and K, all without significantly altering the taste of your smoothie.Protein Sources: Adding a protein source, such as Greek yogurt, silken tofu, or a scoop of protein powder, can increase satiety and help with muscle repair, especially if you're engaging in regular exercise.Healthy Fats: Avocado, chia seeds, or a tablespoon of nut butter can add healthy fats to your smoothie, contributing to fullness and providing essential fatty acids.Low-Calorie Liquids: Choose liquids like water, almond milk, or coconut water over juice to keep the calorie count down.

Recipe for a Basic Weight Loss Banana Smoothie

Here's a simple recipe to get you started:

Ingredients:

1 medium ripe banana1 cup of spinach or kale½ cup of Greek yogurt (unsweetened)1 tablespoon of chia seeds1 cup of almond milk (unsweetened)Ice cubes (optional, for a colder smoothie)

Instructions:

Place the banana, spinach, Greek yogurt, and chia seeds in a blender.Add the almond milk. If you prefer a thicker smoothie, start with less almond milk and adjust to your liking.Blend on high until smooth. If the mixture is too thick, you can add more almond milk to reach your desired consistency.Taste and adjust. If you prefer a sweeter smoothie, consider adding a small amount of honey or maple syrup.Serve immediately, garnished with a slice of banana or a sprinkle of chia seeds, if desired.

Tips for Weight Loss Success

While banana smoothies can be beneficial for weight loss, they should be part of a balanced diet and healthy lifestyle. Here are a few tips to enhance your weight loss efforts:

Mind Your Portions: Even healthy ingredients can contribute to weight gain if consumed in large quantities. Pay attention to the size of your smoothie servings.Balance Your Diet: Ensure that your overall diet is rich in whole foods, including vegetables, fruits, lean proteins, and whole grains.Stay Active: Regular physical activity is crucial for burning calories and building muscle, which can aid in weight loss.Hydrate Well: Sometimes, thirst is mistaken for hunger. Drinking plenty of water throughout the day can prevent unnecessary snacking.

Incorporating banana smoothies into your diet can be a delicious and nutritious way to help achieve your weight loss goals. With the right ingredients and a balanced approach to nutrition and exercise, you'll be on your way to a healthier, happier you.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[isolaradiale]

YOU HAVE ONE HOUR TO SAY YOUR GOODBYES.

It was a text message that everyone who had been brought into the parallel world received suddenly, and the time limit held true. Because exactly an hour later, the phones of everyone transported began to glow with a pattern not unlike a kaleidoscope and they just up and disappeared.

True to the word they had been given when they had first appeared in the other city, they had been returned to their own Spirale. But it was hardly recognizable any longer. A crimson sky, meteors falling off in the distance, overlooked a city mired by destruction. Buildings had been attacked and had crumbled, while CPNs roamed the streets. Did the city even have a pulse?

Things became even more alarming when you noticed what was counted midst these CPNs. Corrupted Ofiuclones, and without any apparent NPCs to attack, their attention quickly fixated on the returnees. Fortunately, the functions that made them immune to damage from the populace at large was disabled by the corruption of the dark sun that had fallen at the event's beginning, and they're very much destructible.

Fortunately, the returning population was armed. Thanks to the blessings they earned in the other world, their powers and weapons have been temporarily returned to them. While for those without abilities, an antivirus weapon from the arsenal of the other world's Spirale Defense Group would be conjured along with a sharp, temporary increase in their physical abilities. Likewise, they could also access their Fantasia avatar if they would prefer.

But what of the Stars? The original Ofiuco? The people had a means of taking back their city, but no answers to their insurmountable number of questions. For now, all they could do was fight on and hope for the best. But was this enough? Or was a miracle needed to reclaim and undo the damage done to the city?

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Welcome to part 2 of the event! While it may sound like a straightforward battle segment, make sure to read over everything here!

SO WHAT'S GOING ON?

Everyone has been transported back to the real Spirale, which has been ruined over the course of the week where everyone was missing. The sky is red, the moon is black, and there is widespread destruction throughout. CPNs wander the streets and places once previously thought safe, making it perilous to adventure alone.

CAN WE FIGHT BACK?

You can! Thanks to the Blessings received from the other world, not only have everyone's abilities and weapons been returned, but they have been imbued with the antivirus necessary to destroy the CPNs. For characters that are extremely powerful, please do not abuse this privilege! And remember the city streets will likely be filled with fellow characters when you shoot off a giant laser beam.

WHAT IF MY CHARACTER IS POWERLESS / HAS NO COMBAT ABILITIES?

There are several avenues you can pursue! The first is simply having the app give them an antivirus-imbued weapon from the Spirale Defense Group's arsenal. This weapon can be anything you'd like it to be, but wielding one will also give your character light superhuman physical abilities.

The other option would be utilizing their Fantasia form. If your character wasn't around for Fantasia, you can still find the information on the character creation on its world page, as well as a list of spells they could use.

WAIT! THERE'S CORRUPTED OFIUCLONES?

There are! Mixed amid the CPNs are these distorted Ofiuco knockoffs, remnants from a past event and technically part of the Stars' arsenal. While normally untouchable, they can be damaged like any CPN. While you can destroy them entirely, it is possible to purify them with the antivirus weapons and attacks, and return them to normal.

In terms of abilities, they can summon energy blades and fire beams. Because of the corruption though, their movements are both limited an erratic. They're kind of creepy to watch, actually.

HOW DESTROYED IS THE CITY?

Most of the buildings are still standing, but there is noticeable damage from CPN attacks and the meteor showers that occasionally fall from the sky. The branches appear to be in better shape overall, but the surplus of CPNs is still an obvious issue.

WHERE DO OUR CHARACTERS APPEAR WHEN THEY RETURN TO THE CITY?

They will return to the exact same point they were removed from. If you decide that this place has been completely destroyed, they will be placed on the closest street.

WHERE ARE ALL OF THE NPCS?

Most of them have been corrupted into CPNs, but those that avoided this fate have gathered in bunkers erected beneath the wards. Hope isn't lost for those that have been corrupted, so if you have a favourite NPC you wanted to put into an angsty situation, go nuts.

WHAT ABOUT THE AU WORLD AND THOSE CHARACTERS?

;)

IS THIS EVERYTHING FOR PART 2?

No! Aside from the occasional lore post update that will be made throughout part 2, next Friday there will be an important update to the situation. It's not a part 3 so much as a part 2.5, however. Because the situation will be evolving several times, if you don't want to do a combat thread you can always wait and see what these developments are and how they impact the goings on.

There are a few plot points we want to hit, and trying to cram them into the beginning of part 2 or just in the conclusion would have made things a little too chaotic.

I HAVE A QUESTION!

As always, just toss us a line through the masterlist and we'll get you an answer ASAP! And for those who missed it, here's a link to part 1.

[wildlyglittering]

Love in an Elevator

Happy Sunday everyone!

Thank you to those who have liked, commented and re-blogged my pieces so far - you are *chef’s kiss* awesome. 

How’s the ACOSF discourse coming? I’m watching it all whilst slurping my tea but very much staying out of it. I’m cracking on with my fanfiction though, am feeling weirdly inspired lately which is rare but I’ll take it! 

In a few weeks I’ll probably ask if anyone has any requests as I’m feeling up for the challenge. I’m slow but I’ll get there in the end. 

In the meantime I hope you enjoy this one!

***

There was no getting out of the predicament she’d found herself in, no matter how much she begged - and she had begged.

She’d thrown in some negotiations and when those offerings failed, she’d feigned a nonchalance that was as transparent as water. The very last weapon in her arsenal had been to fling mean spirited insults but those spurred him on more.

Then again, she grinned to herself, didn’t she know they would?

Nesta’s arms were stretched upwards above her head, the backs of her hands pressed against the cool wall of the elevator. Two large hands held them in place with a grip that refused to relent, the skin of her captor so hot he must have been burning.

At some point his mouth had moved from hers to her throat, his head dipping down while she strained hers back, her neck arching to give him better access. She always provided an initial protest. I don’t want your filthy mouth on me. The waiter from the restaurant looked like he was able to provide more satisfaction than you and he could hardly stand. I think I should go home now before my evening ends in disappointment.

It was a game they played and they played it well.

That hot mouth travelled to a sensitive spot, lips skimming her skin to the point where they scarcely touched her. A whine escaped her, short and shrill enough that she’d hoped he hadn’t heard but from the quirk of his lips on her throat that she did feel, she knew he had.

“Patience is a virtue,” he trilled at her and her own lips turned into a sneer.

“I’m just trying not to die of boredom.”

Nesta’s voice was far too breathless for the barb to land and he chuckled.

“Sure,” he murmured, “and that’s why you sound like you’re a filly in a stable right now.”

“Shut up, Cassian.”

“Mmm. Make me.”

His mouth was on hers again, lips hot and greedy, tongue gliding against hers. He tasted faintly of the scotch he’d been drinking at dinner and he would be tasting red wine.

Cassian was somehow lazy and energetic with his kisses.

He kissed like his goal was to steal every breath she might ever make but he did it so leisurely, so languidly, like he’d managed to switch the passage of time off to allow for it. He pulled back his mouth to suck her bottom lip between his before soothing it over with his tongue.

One day he’d probably make someone combust from kissing them. Not her though, she’d built up an immunity.

Nesta squirmed; her muscles straining in her back. Thankfully yoga had made her limber over the years so that any discomfort was minimal but still, she needed to exhibit some form of protest.

Cassian slid his mouth from hers and glanced at her, it was a brief check in to make sure he wasn’t hurting her, his eyes quick to turn gentle even with his pupils dilated into blackness. She could tell all this from one look. Cassian had such expressive eyes.

Nesta mentally chased the endearment away and pouted. Cassian’s faced slipped from worry to amused, his lips tipping into an arrogant smirk. He chuckled and dipped his head down to suck on the skin of her collarbone.

“Nice try sweetheart, but it’s not going to happen.”

She let out a sigh, half irritation and half bliss, which turned into a moan when he doubled his efforts and sucked harder.

If Nesta had any decency, she wouldn’t be letting him doing this to her in the elevator of his apartment building. If Nesta had any decency, she would pull her body away instead of rubbing it against his.

If Nesta had any decency, she wouldn’t have been the one to make the first move as soon as the doors had closed.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. Her heart pounded its rhythm in her chest and her blood rushed in her ears. Her pulse thrummed everywhere, everywhere, including the place Cassian hadn’t yet reached for.

Still, it was as though he read her thoughts, and he elevated some of the ache by pressing his pelvis against hers, his crisp dress pants rustling as he stepped further between Nesta’s legs.

He lazily flexed his hips against hers and she rocked back, her dress slipping further up her thighs, expanses of bare skin showing to an empty cube. His tongue pressed against the pulse point at the join between her neck and shoulder and she gasped, eyes flying open.

Every. Time.

Once Cassian had figured out what made Nesta’s body hum he’d seemingly made it his personal mission to turn a tune into an orchestral delight.

Her eyes refocused past the swimming haze that Cassian drowned her in and what she saw must have reached some part of her brain that hadn’t vacated her head.

The numbers on the elevator display kept increasing. Five, Fifteen, Fifty.

There was no danger of anyone calling the elevator, the apartment building was in an area of the city that was considered ‘up and coming’ which meant over three quarters of the complex were still up for sale. Cassian had been one of the first buyers and snagged the penthouse at a decent introductory rate.

Nesta’s eyes managed to sharpen into focus when they alighted on the black polished and exceptionally shiny tiles lining the ceiling, which, for all intents and purposes, acted like a mirror.

The tableau playing out did absolutely nothing to quell her thundering heartbeat.

Earlier Nesta’s hair had been preened into a slick French knot, teased into place by her hairstylist who implied Nesta had big plans for the evening. Nesta had dismissed those remarks with a wave of her hand and a scowl that could curdle milk.

Now, hours later, all was in disarray. Gold-brown strands fell onto her shoulders loosened by two firm hands that had buried themselves in her hair at the first available opportunity.

One of those shoulders was bare, the strap of her dress slid down when Cassian had made a beeline for the curve that contained the most freckles. His favourite shoulder, he’d once told her. She’d rolled her eyes at him on hearing that but made a point of wearing one-stap tops at family summer barbecues where he couldn’t reach for her.

At this vantage point Nesta was able to catch glimpses of herself from their mirror-twins but mostly what she saw was him.

Cassian’s hair was still in its low bun, which, unlike Nesta’s was messy by design. The expanse of his back covered her, his snow-white shirt stretched across solid back muscles. His jacket was discarded on the floor along with her bag and one of her shoes.

She’d managed to tug his shirt loose before he’d pinned her, the bottom of it now crumpled and ridden up at the back and in the shimmering, slightly distorted surface of the black tiles she saw his smooth, deep olive skin.

Her fingers twitched. She couldn’t wait to get into his apartment, to grab at the buttons and pull the fabric from him. Nesta had ruined, two, maybe three shirts of his now, not that he cared. With any luck she’d have him naked halfway across the lower floor of his open planned mezzanine. Maybe this time they’d make it up the stairs to his bed. Maybe they wouldn’t.

Cassian must have felt her fingers twitch because he shifted his hands upwards, from her wrists across her palms, to entwine his own between hers. They clung, entangled with each other, their knuckles surely turning bone white with the grip.

It wasn’t enough that she wanted to see his skin, she needed to feel it, smooth and warm underneath her fingertips. She envisaged her fingertips rounding over the muscles of his chest and abdomen and then drifting her palm over hard muscle to harder muscle still.

Every time they did this was like Nesta was receiving a present from the universe and it was a sobering thought that ultimately, they would have to decide the gift tree needed to stop gifting.

“Cassian,” she groaned and he lifted his head.

It always seemed to Nesta that she was more undone than him in these situations. Her clothes and hair were always mussed, her skin flushing red and her breath huffing from her mouth in harsh pants. Cassian always looked like he’d run a marathon without breaking a sweat.

There was lust in the way she’d said his name, of course there was. A man this decadent couldn’t hold his body against hers like this, couldn’t flex his hardness against her pelvis like this, for Nesta not to sound like she was about to unravel into a spool of thread.

But something else had crept in, something that sounded disturbingly like longing, like she wanted their ribs pressed as close as they could get so their hearts almost touched.

His eyes, half-lidded and hazy were staring into hers. Desire lived in them when he looked at her, but she also knew how he counted the freckles on her nose while he thought she was asleep and how he played with her hair when she dozed. Now his desire had a permanent room-mate who’d crept in uninvited.

These were things that would go unsaid. They hated each other, of course. They even had friends who encouraged the level of vitriol they could spew.

Cassian slipped back into arrogance as easy as he could breathe.

“That’s right, Nes,” he murmured, “say my name.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. If she could move her legs, she’d be tempted to give him a kick. “Bastard.”

The smile never left his face. “Oh, and don’t you know it.”

He kissed her again, shifting his pelvis away only to position one strong muscled thigh between her legs instead. She moaned against his mouth, feeling the determined throb of his erection through the fabric of his pants against her thigh. She ground down onto his leg, her hips rocking as she tried to quell her building ache.

Cassian moved both her wrists into one of his hands, freeing the other. His grip was looser now with just one fist holding her and if Nesta wanted, she could pull both her hands down and out with ease. She didn’t of course, despite her earlier protests. This game had well established rules.

Cassian’s free right hand slipped down to her bare knee, hooking behind it to draw it upwards towards his hip. They’d played this part of the game before too, Nesta instantly wrapping her leg around his waist, her dress indecently bunched around her hips.

There were many things to be thankful for in this world. The fact that Cassian’s apartment complex was semi-deserted. The fact that his frame shielded hers from any view if the elevator happened to stop and the fact that Cassian knew where the button was to turn off the security camera.

They’d learnt their lesson from experience.

Stern words had been directed to them both from the old security guard. “Please,” he’d pleaded, “no more sex in the elevator. I’m over 70, my heart isn’t so good. Make love to your girlfriend in your apartment.”

Nesta had been extremely quick to point out she wasn’t Cassian’s girlfriend which just made the old man raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

Perhaps Nesta was the only woman that Cassian invited over, perhaps she’d brought over an overnight bag once or twice and perhaps they’d hooked up after the cinema and a couple of dinners and even after a Sunday farmer’s market but it didn’t mean a thing.

“Ah,” Cassian sighed, pulling his mouth away from hers. “I know this pair – the red silk?”

His fingers trailed up her bare thigh and further until he reached the edge of her panties. The man had an unusual gift for accurately guessing her underwear.

The dress she’d chosen to wear out was a new one; sleeveless black lace with thick cut straps scooping into a scalloped neckline. Demure and elegant. Hints of cleavage and slight bare shoulders only.

The lower half was significantly shorter than what she would normally wear but pairing them with her highest heels had been worth it to see Cassian’s face when she entered the restaurant, his eyes skimming up her naked legs with an expression like he wanted to devour her.

This underwear was a particular favourite of his so she thought that tonight they should make an appearance.

His fingers, a maddeningly delicate touch, skimmed across the front of the fabric, pressing firmly with his thumb in just the right place for the briefest of seconds before pulling away.

Nesta’s body jolted and his eyes shone.

“Prick.”

“Hmmm pretty sure that’s Feyre’s pet name for Rhys.”

Well there was a mood killer.

“Ugh please,” she said, “please don’t mention my baby sister and that asshole while your hand is up my dress. I already spend enough money on therapy as it is.”

Cassian laughed, a sound that was rich and warm and thrummed through her. When Cassian laughed, he laughed with his whole body. “Oh, not finding Feyre and Rhys’ terms of endearment a turn on?”

She scrunched her nose.

“Well, that’s cute.”

“Shut. Up.”

Cassian grinned and kissed her again.

At first, when all this began, they didn’t talk about real life; Cassian’s job, Nesta’s job, weekend plans, friends or family. It was strictly skin on skin contact only. Those were the rules.

As time trickled past like sand in an hourglass, the rules warped until a significant portion had changed completely.

They ended up asking how the other was.

At first it was small talk, trying to be polite as they walked through shared the lobby of Cassian or Nesta’s apartment buildings but then Nesta had a bad day and Cassian seemed genuine in his question.

She told him about a potential client who no longer wanted her as their literary agent and how that rejection had stung. She’d believed in that book she told him, it was about sisters and redemption, and she explained how she’d cried when she first read the manuscript.

After that point they talked about their work. Nesta would glance at the architect plans Cassian had scattered about his drafting table and asked questions about how his projects were progressing and check her emails while he cooked dinner. There were times they sat opposite each other, Cassian while he drafted and Nesta while she read.

That was the other thing. There were dinners. Lunches. Weekend plans involving brunches and early morning Saturday jog’s around the park.

The one thing that did seem to be beyond their new rules was discussing friends and family.

Cassian and Nesta rarely spoke about their mutual acquaintances, often refusing to acknowledge they even had any. It was strange for Cassian to bring Rhys into conversation but he was obviously on Cassian’s mind from the phone call earlier.

They were done with their starters and waiting for the main’s when Rhys rang, Cassian answering because if he hadn’t, ‘shit would look suspicious.’

Nesta could hear the conversation from both parties even as Cassian twisted in his chair, phone pressed to his ear hunched away as much as possible to try and limit the sound.

It was confirmation from Rhys that him, Cassian and Azriel were still on for their tomorrow plans; a morning of manly activities followed by ‘lunch with the ladies’ to celebrate Cassian’s thirtieth birthday as Cassian had told them he wasn’t able to celebrate tonight, on his actual birthday.

Of course, Nesta hadn’t been invited to the group festivities. As far as all were concerned, Cassian and Nesta loathed each other and so Nesta let it slide. Cassian had essentially fobbed off the ones he loved the most with a work-based lie to have dinner with her. She thought it was a poor and unexpected exchange on his part.

Still, she had promised him a lovely birthday treat to make up for it.

Nesta gently pulled back from his kiss and watched Cassian pout.

“Now, who’s looking cute.”

“It’s my birthday. I want kisses.”

She looked up at him as coyly as she could, flexing her hips forward into his, gasping as the action moved his fingers across the front of her underwear. “Well as you’re now such a big boy perhaps tonight we can do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. It being a special occasion and all.”

Cassian’s pout dissipated and his eyes grew five shades darker.

“You mean...”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, Nesta. What the hell floor are we on? Why aren’t we top floor yet, c’mon!”

Nesta laughed. They were in the world’s slowest elevator which wouldn’t be an issue but they definitely wouldn’t be doing the thing in here.

The birthday gods or whoever Cassian just offered a sacrifice to in his mind were in an obliging mood as the ‘ding’ told Nesta they’d finally reached Cassian’s floor.

Somehow, with super human speed, he’d removed his hands from her body, scooped up the jacket, bag and shoe from the floor and turned to her, hoisting her up so she clung to him like a bear climbing a tree.

Nesta laughed again combined with a shriek of surprise, her legs wrapping around his waist, her hands buried in his hair. With a fumbling grace, his face pushed between her breasts, one hand full of their belongings and the other on her ass, Cassian moved them from the elevator into the hallway.

Her back thumped against the wall by his front door as Cassian dug around for his keys. Nesta tangled her hands further into his hair, making his bun as messy as hers.

“You know,” she said, “you should really consider getting a mirror installed above your bed. I think it would add a certain post-modern aesthetic.”

He momentarily paused his search to look up at her, his eyes hazy. “Yeah, you think?” he rasped. “If you want, sweetheart.”

“Not for me,” she replied with an air of indifference, moving her fingers to skim along the muscles corded in his neck. “Some woman you try and pick up might go for it.”

Cassian gave her a smirk and kissed the skin of her exposed cleavage before getting back to find his keys.

“Hurry,” she pleaded to hear Cassian mumble back, trying.

The click of the lock turning was the best sound she’d ever heard and they were barely through the threshold and into his darkened apartment before everything in Cassian’s hands, aside her, fell to a clatter on his solid floorboards.

Cassian simultaneously slammed the door and her back against the wall, his mouth stretching up to claim hers while she grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging it higher. She needed to get to his skin, needed to peel off his layers and throw off hers. If they made it to the bed for the first round of this evening it would be nothing short of a miracle.

It was only seconds before the apartment flooded with light where it had been pitch black before. The realisation that neither of them had turned on the lights came a second too late.

There was a chorus of loud and happy voices to accompany the lights.

“SURPRISE!”

It petered out to stunned silence and gasps. Cassian pulled back from Nesta his eyes filling with horror. Nesta didn’t want to look, but she was facing them, she couldn’t not.

Balloons and streamers dotted the apartment, a huge banner stretched overhead to say ‘happy birthday,’ tables full of food and alcohol primed and ready to go. There they were in front, the collective loved ones they didn’t talk about with a few extra of Cassian’s friends thrown in for good measure.

They just stared, eyes wide and mouths open. Silence.

There was a throaty chuckle followed by Amren’s voice. “Surprise? Well, I’d say it is.”

[jerardeusebio]

When I say “workout,” I really do mean all physical exercises other than running. Before this coronavirus pandemic, I’ve mostly worked out at home. Yes, I’ve availed of a gym membership and found enjoyment in going to one, but this has happened only twice. And these two occasions, they were brief and far between. To illustrate: the first time I had ever set foot in a gym was right after college, around 2009. I went to that gym for about five months and then stopped. The next time would be nine years later, when I moved back home to begin my life as a UPLB academic. But this time, I’d only go to the same gym for three months.

While I did and still do appreciate the equipment variety and quality, the cool temperature, and the very idea of carving out time and headspace to exercise, which most gyms are able to offer its clients, I’ve always found it difficult to buy into the lifestyle. And over the course of the last ten years, I’ve wondered long and hard as to why. Today, I’m attempting to narrow it down to three things:

Running. I often tell my friends that running has saved my life. I don’t mean to be hyperbolic about it. This, on a biological level, is accurate. As someone who’s had to manage anxiety disorders since childhood, I know this to be a fair statement. Running regularly has allowed me to traverse the high wire that life is. And sure, it was on a treadmill that I started running (and liking it), but it was never going to be where I’d stay running. It’s like how cyclers don’t reinstall their training wheels. The whole point of getting them in the first place is to be able do without them later on. The treadmill acted as my training wheels. I hopped on determined to eventually be off of it. Since running became my exercise, the one sport that I had, with great purpose, weaved into the fabric of my identity, the gym and all its other equipment soon felt peripheral. And I wasn’t going to keep paying money for something that I’d, time and again, view as peripheral. 

Money. My 2009 gym membership was paid for by mother as a college graduation gift. I was grateful, but I knew it wasn’t going to be forever. There was some expectation, as I was fresh out of college at this point, that I would eventually earn to pay my keep. And while I knew good physical health was necessary and important, I quickly realized that gyms weren’t. Not necessarily. They were means to an end, and costly means they were. So, when I could no longer swallow my pride, I stopped going. I shifted my focus on running, which at that point I was already falling in love with. I made UPLB campus my gym. I landed a job, eventually. And gym fees would never again fit into my budget. As I invested some money, little by little, on things like dumbbells, jumping ropes, and running clothes and shoes, it became crystal clear that I could do without gym access because (1) I really don’t need it and (2) I couldn’t afford it. Even when I found myself working in the Metro, many years later, and would pass all these posh gyms on my way home, I never ended up seriously considering them. Other things would always come up as more important.

Philosophy. On the first night that I got to hang with Dylan’s friends in Manila, we walked past this construction site on the way to SaGuijo. It was after dinnertime and the construction workers were preparing to retire. One of them had his shirt off and was displaying his chiseled body, cuts illumined by the fluorescent bulb above him. I remember being tagged by Dylan, cued by the sight of this hot construction worker, to share with his friends my ideas about gym-going. I told them what I had told Dylan earlier, that I found it quite ironic that many construction workers get paid to do manual labor and, as a consequence, get to exercise and develop a nice physique, while white collar workers (who go to the gym) have to pay to exercise and be healthy, and, if they’re really determined, develop a nice physique. This was something that I had thought about in my first few months, that time already half a decade ago, at my gym. It hadn’t taken long for me to begin wondering about what I was doing, and why only rich (and/or connected) people went to the gym with me. The more I thought about it, the more I found it ridiculous that I had to pay in order to be healthy and physically active. While for laborers, the work was to lift sacks of cement to build something, the office workers pay to lift iron discs to use what would otherwise be unused muscles. If my job, diet, and lifestyle were so great, then why was I overweight? Why was I struggling? Why was it a good job if it kept me glued to a chair seven hours a day? This to me said so much about how we’ve evolved to define “work” the way we do today, and why manual and physical labor is often frowned upon as menial and low-paying. This also makes sense when I think about physical education classes being excluded from grades computations. Why? Are cerebral tasks necessarily more important than being physically fit? Aren’t those things tied? It also says so much about how we’ve capitalized on these gaps. Again, it seems absurd—if one were to sit down and really think about it—to be working so hard to be able to pay for gym fees and medical care once our health deteriorates because of the kind of inert work that most of us are taught to value and have to do. It is with this philosophy that I decide, each time I get the opportunity to, to not to be part of this culture and commit to making the most of home workouts.

To my friends, I advocate working out at home. I do feel it’s the most compatible for many, if not all of them. But I would understand if they find going to the gym the best choice that they have. I’m sure some of them have thought about it as much as I have, maybe even more. Still, in general, the incentive system to be healthy in our current setup is not that great. Those who have more means, who enjoy more privileges are more likely to be fitter. Even I, just by having ample space for home workouts, already outprivilege so many. Unfortunately, the incentive system is similar for food. Eating more healthy (organic, vegan, whole) is seen as more expensive. Less healthy choices like highly processed foods are relatively cheaper and more accessible. Not to mention education, which allows us to make better food choices. This is were some of our healthy construction workers would lose. In this scenario, as in too many others, it is those with less that are disadvantaged. I digress, I know. I’m afraid more of this must be for another sad and sobering blog entry.

I’ll maintain, though, that if one wants to be fit, going to the gym is not the only option and certainly not the cheapest. The first few months of the pandemic have proven this, as most of my friends went on to do their exercises at home. 

I can’t speak for them, but me—I’m relieved I no longer have to shower before working out, to commute, to find a nearby parking space, to wait for an equipment to free up, to suffer feeling looked at and judged. Mostly, though, I'm glad I don't have to pay to be motivated to move about. And I guess this setup has been working out well for me because exercise has always been a solitary thing for me, like how I prefer running by myself because it gives me a chance to hear my own thoughts, count my own breath, and communicate with my body.

Over the years—and there have been many—the equipment count at home has steadily increased. Just a few months ago, a stationary bike and a pull-up bar were added to my arsenal, thanks to my brother’s efforts. Last week, I purchased the very first pair of training shoes I’ve ever owned. They’re sure to give my running shoes (the wrong pair for lateral movements during HIIT) a nice break from indoor exercises. And these new kicks have been so far great, and I’m looking forward to working out with them for years, in the comfort of my own home.

[ozzdog12]

2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year. 

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out. 

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so. 

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

[xxsovereignsarayaxx]

Fifty Shades of Mikaelson: Shade 2

Authors Note: Ok so my original plan was to release Shade 2 and Shade 3 after Shade 1 but then I realised that there bits in Shade 2 and 3 that could add to the upcoming chapters for the trilogy. Everything in this AU is connected so you’ll get even more of a story.  Word Count: 1877 Warnings: None. Yet. Pairing: Kol X Reader

Fifty Shades Tag List: @xxwritemeastoryxx​ @tomarisela​ @akshi8278​

Missed Shade 1? Catch up from the beginning chapters for all Shades will be updated in the upcoming weeks/months. 

Richmond Virginia is the home to Mikaelson Enterprises, one of the largest companies in the US to date, with countless connections across the country and the world. After receiving the company from the untimely death of their parents and younger brother Henrik the six remaining siblings all took a share and equal role within the company. 

The loss of their parents and younger brother was hard on the remaining family and became so tough on Freya and Finn that they ultimately took a step back from public eye of the company and became silent partners, this allowed Elijah, Niklaus, Kol and Rebekah to have a free rein on the company so to speak.

What made Mikaelson Enterprises different to all the others was the fact that it didn’t have one sole purpose. The company originally thrived at investing low market sales. Rather than take the risk and invest in the higher term stock markets each sibling took to different sectors and reaped the rewards of their own doing which allowed them to endeavour into other opportunities.

Each sibling was different, Rebekah stuck to fashion. Her aim was that she wanted people to look great whilst not breaking the bank and so she worked with a large team of designers to manufacture a line of clothing that was stylish while being at affordable prices. Kol and Niklaus went into business together to create the bourbon of bourbons, wanting to create a new brand and enjoying the odd glass or two led them to a likely partnership. Elijah was different compared to his other siblings rather than go out into the world and create a new product he used his studies and degree and built a highly respectable law firm. And each separate business venture was all under the same roof in the tallest building in the city.

Richmond was the also the home to Salvatore Industries and happened to be one of the biggest competitors to Mikaelson Enterprises and being the savvy independent business woman I was I often used their constant feud to my advantages, whilst they were always trying to outdo one another it often allowed me to swoop in and close whatever deal or buy out other small businesses they had been competing for, so I could add them to my small arsenal and ever growing empire. And for the majority of the time it worked. Much to the dismay of my rivals. But with me plucking opportunities from the sky showed both the Mikaelson’s and the Salvatore’s that I was not a woman to be messed with.

I ran my own distillery and bottling company, a much smaller one at that. But it was still able to compete with the high demand of the other much larger companies and I was able to keep up with distributing to bars in and around the city. I was always around alcohol as a child but that was because my parents ran their own bar and when I was old enough I worked part time to help pay for my studies at business school. By the young ripe age of twenty five I created my own brand of vodka, with its smoother taste and lighter afterburn it was an instant hit and by twenty six I bought my first distillery and opened up my office later in that year. Here I was months later enjoying the views from my office building. I often loved taking a step back and just observing others. There was just something about people-watching that was so satisfying and calming, and the best place to do that was from the large windows in the meeting room. As I took a sip of the ice cold water in my hand I heard the intercom buzz through.

“Y/N, your three o’clock is here.” Gia, my secretary informed me from the intercom.

Taking a step back from the window I turned and reached over and pressed the button to speak. “Thank you, Gia. Why don’t you finish early for the day? I can wrap things up here.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying?” 

“No, no. Go home early today Gia, you’ve earned it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I replied to her in a sincere voice. 

The glass doors to the meeting room opened and my eyes looked upwards at the man walking into the room.  

“Kol.” I say playfully, as the door slowly closes shut.

“Now I thought you and your brother were coming to this meeting, I wanted to finally meet both of the brains behind Hybrid in person. But I must say I’m impressed, your burst onto the liquor scene seems to have lasted. Now what can I do for you?” I added, raising an eyebrow as I gestured for him to take a seat at the large table. 

“Nik’s sources tell me that you recently purchased ‘The Compound Distillery’ from under our noses.” Kol starts as he takes a seat at the table.

“By Nik’s sources? You must mean Elijah. But it’s nice to see you too Kol. Regarding ‘The Compound’ you and your lawyers were taking far too long with the negotiations. I just so happened to arrive just in time to help speed the proceedings up.” I interrupted with a sly smile, fluttering my eyelashes I took another sip from my glass.

“Drinking on the job are we?” He asked, trying to change the subject teasing me as I walked around the room.

“Just water. I like to have a clear head especially when I have my business rivals enter through my door.”

“What did you offer them?” He asked, propping up his elbows.

“You’ve always been a curious one. Alright I’ll tell you. They wanted a quick sale but didn't get the asking price they wanted however, so in return for the lower price I just kept all of their employees so the lucky souls now all work for me.” I replied, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.

“I don’t mean to pry but what are you here for Kol? If you're here to ask questions then we could've easily had this meeting on the phone.”

“I’ve come to buy you out.” He stated. 

“My my aren’t we feeling bold?” I replied with a laugh, eyeing him up and down. “But I’ll give you a simple answer. No.” 

Flashing me a smile. “I thought you would say that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Simple psychology darling, because I now have a better chance of getting a yes with my next question.” 

“Oh? And what would that be?” I asked tilting my head ever so slightly. 

“Join me for dinner.” 

“Why on earth would I say yes to that?” I asked, licking my bottom lip.

“I enjoy your company darling. And perhaps we could get better acquainted to strike up a deal for the future.” Kol replied, shifting in his seat. 

“Don’t they teach you at business school to not mix business with pleasure?” I purred with a seductive tone. 

“Whilst you were in that lecture I must have missed that one, so darling what do you say?” 

“Alright you’ve convinced me. But it’s strictly business.”

“Course darling.” 

Kol left the my meeting room shortly after but made sure to slide his business card over the desk his way of giving me his mobile number in the most subtle way possible, however Kol Mikaelson and subtle don’t go together one bit. Running a hand through my Y/H/C tugging on a few of the strands that had gotten knotted during the day. Whenever Kol called me ‘darling’ it did things to me that I would never admit to. 

“He’s not changed since the day we met as business school.” I said to myself with a smile.

Leaving the meeting room and walking back to my office, I turned the phone to face me and picked up the receiver holding it in my hand whilst I used the other to dial a number. 

“Hello, Salvatore Industries Elena speaking how can I help you?” 

“Hi Elena it’s Y/N is it possible to speak with Damon please?” I asked.

“Of course I’ll put you through.”

“Eternal stud speaking.” Damon said as I was transferred to his line.

 “It is really a good thing that you pay a whole lot more than to what Mason Lockwood offered me.” 

“You love me really.” He teased.

“Sure it’s that and not the stacks of cash I get put into my account each month. Just checking you wanted double the amount sent over to the bar tomorrow.” 

“It's the main thing I sell on student nights so I gotta keep up with the demand, any chance you’ll be doing different flavours in the future?” Damon asked.

“You’ll be the first person to know when I do, you can even be my taste tester.” 

“Speaking of the delivery Bob-Bon will be signing for it tomorrow. Me and Elena have a OBGYN appointment.”

“I’ll be sure to let Ric know. But between working with your brother and owning a bar on the side I’m surprised how you even had the time to get Elena pregnant.” I replied with a giggle.

“I always find the time for those special business meetings, if you catch my drift.” 

“And now I’m disgusted by you.” I said faking a gagging sound.

“C’mon Y/NN, thought you would have gotten used to my good looks, my style, my charm and my unflinching ability to listen to Taylor Swift.”

“Goodbye Damon.” I shouted and put the phone down and back in the base. 

I moved the phone back in its usual spot on my desk and started to pack away my laptop and other bits I wanted to do at home, as I was looking for a marketing plan in my desk drawer I heard my office door open.

“What is the point of owning a phone if I can never reach you on it?”

I smiled as I saw my best friend in the doorway.

“Bekah...You know I have an empire to run.” I teased, grinning at her.

“And causing mayhem to where my brothers are concerned no less. You have no idea what I have to listen to especially when we have dinner each and every night.” She replied, crossing her arms.

“Well if they’re talking about me then I really must be making a name for myself, you should understand that being a woman in business isn’t as easy as it looks.” I told her, walking to her and bringing her into a hug. 

As the two of us embraced in our hug, she pulled away. “Speaking of business. I have some exciting news.” She said excitedly.

“Your new line is ready?” I asked, sounding hopeful.

“Almost. But I wanted to get some promo shoots out for the public and I wanted you to be the model!”

I looked at her shocked. “Shut. Up.” 

“I’m serious. You’re a strong woman in ever growing business, you earned everything you have today and what better person to have showcasing my line is you. We need to have a dinner date to celebrate!” 

“Oh speaking of dinner. I have gossip, how about we take this to the nearest bar?” 

Feedback makes me a better writer and encourages me to write more and often! 

[reneejuliet]

Leave Me Wanting

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Rating: M (smut in the form of male masturbation, cursing)

Word Count: 1,636

Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers?, Idol AU

Author’s Note: Presenting my second drabble! Hoseok has had me feeling some kind of way lately (though still not my bias, lulz) and since I can’t make him my central character in Ignorance is Bliss, I’m sharing this little piece I’ve had on my phone for at least a year now. It’s also brewing in my mind as a possible continuation, so please let me know what you think. And, also, I maybe just sorta really love hearing what you guys think.

Similar to I can hear the bells, this is more from Hoseok’s POV. I don’t know why I wrote it that way - it literally just sort of poured out of me. If I continued this, it would switch POVs between Hoseok and you, the Reader. 

And - this starts kinda right off the bat so I’m putting a ‘keep reading’ under all this before the story starts. Enjoy! (Photo/gif above edited/made by me (if it isn’t showing please let me know, it deleted out like three times while I made this post o.o))

 His breathing was labored, heavy pants and ragged inhales echoing off the linoleum of the crappy bathroom stall. One hand was splayed out against the wall, fingers spread and digging into the tile while the other wrapped tightly around his dick, pumping and twisting in search of his release. The ache was constant, but dull. Every now and then he was able to work it into a throb, a spike of pleasure shooting into his stomach, but it was quick to disappear again. The groan that left his lips was one of frustration more than titillation.

Three sharp slams on the bathroom door jolted him, a wave of panic seeping into his exhausted muscles. Until your familiar voice cut through the thick metal as easily as a knife through butter.

"Come on, Jung! We don't have all day! Your meeting starts in twenty minutes!"

He groaned again, his grip growing slack for a moment. The meeting he had completely forgotten about, of course. The whole reason you had pulled into this shitty little gas station. He'd been a mess when you picked him up, having allowed the hook up to run longer than he had intended. It wasn't that big of a deal, he'd thought then - it wouldn't be the first time you had seen him so disheveled, and he was just going to go back to the dorms and pass out in his bed. Until you reminded him of the godforsaken meeting he had with the company's producers regarding his next mixtape. He certainly couldn't go into it with rumpled clothes, sex hair, and fresh hickies blooming under the collar of his shirt.

So, ever the professional handler, you had detoured the vehicle into the nearest gas station and all but dragged his sorry-looking ass into the downtrodden bathroom. Your hands were magic as you cleaned him up: running wet fingers through his hair to smooth and straighten, wiping a damp towel over the wrinkles in his shirt, dabbing just enough concealer over the irritated skin on his collar to lessen the appearance. The determination in your eyes had been so focused you hadn't even noticed the tip of your tongue sneaking between your teeth as you worked. But he had. And coupled with the way your fingers tugged on his hair, pressed against the planes of his chest, well... He'd been left with a whole other problem then.

He'd blamed it on the passionate goodbye he'd shared with Minjee just seconds before you'd shown up. She always did love riling him back up before sending him on his way with a cheeky smirk. He'd smiled sheepishly at you, his friend and current chauffeur, when you both noticed the bulge in his pants. You'd groaned loudly, slapping a hand to your face.

"Damn it, Hoseok, seriously? Three hours wasn't enough??"

You'd left him alone in the bathroom then, with a five minute deadline to "fix himself", as you had so lovingly put it. You were sure to state that this was one thing you would not be doing for him.

It should have been easy. It was hardly his first time masturbating, after all. Even the pressure of having you waiting for him outside wasn't a deterrent - he'd had plenty of quickies before a concert or an interview over the years. And his arsenal of material to work with was hardly empty. Minjee was very expressive during sex, and incredibly vocal. Not to mention that woman's curiosity. Damn. There was a reason he kept going back to her. Yet, every image he recalled, every smooth curve of her body and dulcet whine of her voice only served him to the brink of what he needed. For some reason, it just wasn't enough to push him over the edge this time.

Two more bangs on the door and he cursed under his breath. "Hoseok! Come on!"

"Alright! Shit," he yelled back, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes. Absently, he trailed his fingers gently down his length with a feather-light touch. His heart flipped tiredly in his chest, lower gut tugging slightly in response.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands still damp from your grooming. The phantom feel of your fingernails on his scalp echoed in his mind and his dick twitched at the reminder. Then suddenly your image was conjured behind his eyelids, your bright eyes focused on him as you ran your hands through his hair, tongue poking out between your lips. Those soft, pale lips that parted in small sighs as you worked on him. The blood surged abruptly into his cock and he gasped, catching the twitching member in his grasp again and moaning as his hand instinctively twisted down to the base before squeezing.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice rough in his throat. Your hands drifted down to his collar, brushing against the hot skin as you dabbed the concealer on. He could still feel the delicious ache that swelled under his skin from the pressure of your touch. His dick throbbed heavily in response and he pumped himself, stomach tightening into a hard coil.

"Ffffffffuck, oh," he gasped out as your hands moved down to his chest now, the wet towel doing little to cool the burning flush of his skin beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. Not with how your fingertips trailed behind it, tracing the lines of his body without even realizing. The way you had brushed along his hips - they thrust into his grip at the memory as he pumped harder, faster. His free hand was shaking as he tangled it into his hair, his throat choking off the sound of your name -

"Hoseok!"

Your voice was flustered, exasperated. Damn near whiny - and that was all he needed. The sound went straight to his dick and it throbbed once, twice more before he came. Hard. The moan he released was low, animalistic in his desperation. There were stars behind his eyes as he finally blinked them open, his chest heaving as the warmth slowly dissipated from his stomach. It took a few more lazy pumps to completely spend himself, at which point he was left staring down at his mess in utter shock and confusion.

Despite his location, despite how rushed and utterly far from intimate the situation had been, that was by far one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had. And it was all because of you.

What the actual fuck?

It wasn't like you were unattractive. On the contrary, Hoseok thought you were very pretty. It was one of the first things he had noticed the day you caught him with Minjee. He'd simply chalked up any attraction stemming from that to the fact that he had been in the middle of getting his dick sucked - he was sure he had literal hearts for eyes at the time. The second time he had seen you, he'd attributed the flip of his stomach to the nerves coursing through every inch of his body at the topic he was about to breach with you. He couldn't exactly have you going around blabbing about what you had seen, even if you did work for BigHit. He had his image to maintain, after all, and if any of the higher ups found out he was recklessly endangering that, he'd be in a world of trouble.

So imagine his surprise when you swore to keep his secret. Not to mention the utter befuddlement you left him in when you offered him advice on how to continue hooking up, albeit much more discreetly. To say he'd never met anyone like you didn't quite grasp the exact gravity of the situation - he'd never even dreamed someone like you existed. The friendship that blossomed between you in the subsequent months was a marvel to Hoseok, and the idea of spending time with you amidst his hook ups was almost as exciting as said hook up. But only almost.

Until today, at least. Because apparently, somewhere down the road, Hoseok had developed more than just a friendly inclination toward you. He refused to acknowledge this, however, as he proceeded to hastily clean himself up before exiting the stall. Giving himself a once-over in the grimy mirror, he steeled his expression.

No, this was not the time to try and name anything of that sort.

He remained silent as he exited the bathroom, making a beeline for the vehicle. You muttered a breathy "finally" as you followed, climbing swiftly back into the driver's seat and starting the engine. It wasn't until you were on the road again that you spared a look at him.

"You know, if I had known it would be that difficult for you to get yourself off, maybe I should have offered my assistance."

It was a joke - you were joking. Like you always did. Somehow, you found this entire situation of his amusing. Hoseok knew this, and yet he couldn't help the way in which his limp dick twitched in his pants. He winced, and you noticed.

"Hey," you called, voice softer, more serious. "You okay?"

No, no, no. He was so very much not okay. He had just jerked off to the thought of one of his best friends, and had one of the most ardent orgasms of his life because of it. None of which he could say to you, because he simply was not ready to open that can of worms.

So he forced out one of his usual, sarcastic quips instead.

"Sorry, just - did you want it to take longer?"

You laughed, and it eased the tension building inside his chest. His lips adorned his usual grin, and he glanced at the window. If you knew the truth... you'd be anything but amused.

Well, there it is! I’m not a big smut writer - only recently sort of branched out into it - so please let me know what you think! And, again, if you’d like to see more. I have overtime at work for the next few weeks, but I’m trying to fit in more writing here and there.

Also, I apologize for the disheveled state of my blog! Now that I’ve got more (read: three) pieces posted, I’ll try to create a masterlist ASAP. Don’t know if I’ll accomplish that this weekend, but I shall try. 

Thanks again for reading! ^.^

(dngkaenrkjnerskjgesnrkjeew okay the gif took me fckng forever to get uploaded and it isn’t even the size I wanted but I’m a dinosaur who doesn’t quite have a handle on this newfangled technology so it is what it is. Please feel free to share wisdom with me regarding this shit hahahaha *sobs*)

©reneejuliet 2020. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

[businessplanningsolutions]

The Authority of Money



During my recent trip to the U.S., I decided to play tourist and visit a few places that I had never been. One of the more interesting destinations was the Money Museum at the Federal Reserve Bank in Chicago, Illinois.

    No matter how much it’s talked about in the news and politics, I really had no idea exactly what the Federal Reserve Bank does. I know its name is printed at the top of all of my Benjamin, but that was about the extent of my knowledge. With the help of a friend I’ve had for 40 years, I signed up to take the tour and get a glimpse behind the scenes of the place that money calls home. Knowing the amount of money that passes through the place and seeing the turn of the century style conjured up images of caper stories the whole time I was there. I couldn’t help but think  

“okay, if I was going to rob this place, how would I do it?”

 

The Guided Tour

While it was interesting to learn what the Federal Reserve Bank does, the real beauty of the visit was a special tour through some of the innards with a guide who knows trivia that spans centuries and literally trillions of dollars. Jerry, our tour guide, was a fascinating man who returned from the boredom of retirement to be a tour guide, talking guests through the museum.

    He wore a light green and white suit, looking like he too had been minted by the U.S. government decades ago. Over the course of the next hour or so, he shared background on the Fed, stories and more numbers than anyone should be able to recall.

In the main museum, we got to see a number of displays about the history of currency in the United States, including a couple of displays of One Million Dollars:

We also got to learn a bit about what the Federal Reserve Bank does in a video that was put together in-house – nice, but a bit dry. I’m sharing what I took away from it, which may be entirely inaccurate, due to my failing memory.

The Fed’s charter is to “oversee how monetary policy is implemented.” It comes down to three primary functions:

they oversee how payment systems work, so the way checks are cashed, the way credit card and online transactions take place;

 they are the regulators of banks in the U.S., so they’re the ones who go in and audit banks to make sure they’re not breaking any laws and

The most visible function is that they’re responsible for moving cash around.

    For most of us, that’s the fascinating part of what they do. Every day of the week, shipments of currency come from the United States mints to the Federal Reserve Bank. The Fed then ships that currency out to the banks that need it. While the larger bills are transported by armored car every day, the $1 bills are packed into unmarked semi-trailers and driven to the building to prepare them for distribution.

I guess it’s not much different from shipping a truckload of iPhones to a warehouse, but somehow it SEEMS riskier that they do that.

On the flip side of things, the Fed gets deliveries of cash from the banks, which is counted and bundled for re-distribution. This is also the step that includes pulling old and worn bills out of circulation. One of the most surprising things I saw was how little wear a bill needs for it to be taken out of circulation. Most of the bills in your wallet are probably not going to pass.

About $17 Million in currency is destroyed every day at the Chicago Fed, which is one of 12 Federal Reserve Banks. The Money Museum even gives you a small bag of shredded money as a souvenir, which contains the remnants of currency equal to about $370. One of the more interesting facts about this shredded currency is that until the mid 20th century, the shredded bills were burned, but because of the toxic chemicals used in the ink, they had to stop doing that.

 It’s now shipped off to special landfills for toxic materials. Kind of makes you worry about handling it every day, doesn’t it?

A Personal Tour

I had the pleasure of getting a more personal tour, including a trip to see the money sorting and counting machines (through a thick glass window, of course), but sadly the machines weren’t operating that day.

    Those functions are visible from an additional section of the Museum that was closed off in 2001, so not many people get to visit it.

    My other favorite part was looking at the high denomination currency that’s no longer in circulation. One display has a $10,000 bill in it, along with several other bills from the 200-ish years of American money printing. The 10k bills were printed until the 1940s and discontinued when it became apparent that virtually all bills above $1000 in denomination were being used for criminal purposes.

 Just over 300 of the bills survive, most of which are in the hands of collectors. About 9 years ago, one of them actually arrived at the Fed through normal banking channels! Someone had gotten hold of it (perhaps stored in a box in an attic somewhere), taken it to their local bank and deposited it. With a quick bit of research, they’d have discovered it was worth close to 10 times that to a collector.

    

I’d love to make a few suggestions to the guys at the Money Museum as improvements, but since this is solely for PR (admission is free), I’m sure they are limited in how much they invest in the tour. Although considering the constant saber-rattling in Congress about the Fed, maybe they could use a bit stronger PR push.

One of my biggest pet peeves with 90% of museums is that no one really thinks about photos. Placement of light fixtures to minimize glare, setting up obstruction free angles and allowing guests the chance to pose without impeding traffic are critical factors for any museum and most of them don’t think that through.

Re-open the closed section of the tour. Money counting and shredding is one of the more fascinating things that happens at the Fed and no one gets to see it. I get it. 9/11 happened. But the security checks and procedures keep out bank robbers, so I’m sure they can be effective for other people, too.

Tell some stories. Interactive displays are all well and good, but you’ve got an asset like Jerry who has hundreds of stories in his arsenal. I’m the only one who heard any of them. Everyone else just heard him introduce the video and rattle off a lot of facts and figures.

    

Stories = excitement. Spend a little money and create a new video to share some of these stories in the context of explaining what the Fed does.

All unsolicited advice, of course, but I found the place fascinating and woefully under-utilized. As an average tourist, there just wouldn’t be a lot to hold my interest without some upgrades.

A blog post by Mike Fraser, We are the outside-the-Box, professionals here to give you the best change, solutions and strategies to develop your business idea. I can take your dream and help you make it an attainable goal. Our life experience and formal education has led us to the following conclusions:

Everyone has an amazing idea. It’s the execution that gets the job done. We are your executioner.

Brussels sprouts do not taste that great, no matter what my mom says.

Our team is made of all A personalities. We don’t care who gets the credit – We just want to win.

You will not regret giving us the opportunity to facilitate, compose and engineer the growth of your business. A professional prepared business plan can not only help your start-up company to obtain venture capital, traditional loans but can also help to maximize the efficiency and profitability of your business.

An optimal business plan can be your road map to a successful business. We thrive on building relationships and take great pride in the company we keep.



The post The Authority of Money appeared first on Business Plan Ideas | Business Plan Steps.

via Business Plan Ideas | Business Plan Steps https://businessplanpro.pennistonemedia.com/2020/07/22/the-authority-of-money/

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

Blessing in Disguise

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Hospitals, Explosions, depictions of pain, allusions to mania and depression, self harm/unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death and the dead, gambling, potential underage drinking, theft, guns, gun violence, depictions of bullet wounds, and drunk people. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Songs: All the kids are depressed- Jeremy Zucker, Everywhere- Chloe x Halle, Middle Child- J. Cole, She Knows- J. Cole, Breezeblocks- alt-J, Pussycat Doll-Flo Milli, It’s Been So Long- The Living Tombstone, Take me to Church- Hozier, Good Kid- Kendrick Lamar, Death of a Bachelor- Panic! At the Disco, Them Changes- Thundercat, Detention- Melanie Martinez, Recess- Melanie Martinez, Something for your M.I.N.D- Superorganism 

A/N: I actually hate this chapter because I feel like the writing doesn’t flow. I feel like it’s to jampacked with things that don’t do anything to push the story forward. Anyway I hope you still read it anyways. 

Series Masterlist   Previous Part   Next Part

I did the hand sign stating I’d stand. I knew I won for sure this time because I had a perfect hand of 21. The two other people playing against groaned as I was declared the winner yet again. 

Swiping the chips for the 3rd time since I’d been at the casino. I decided to take my wins and make my way to the bar that our “target” was residing. 

I had a hunch on where Carmen was but had no actual idea. I’d just text her. In the meantime I had this grown ass man to make a move on. 

I was like 97% sure I had the right guy anyway. I looked much older than usual tonight due to Carmen being a makeup goddess and I gotta say flirting can get you a long way. 

“Hey,” I spoke, sitting on the bar stool next to the man.

He looked up at me mumbling a quick hey.

“You expecting someone?” 

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ “What about you?”

“Same as you,”

“Now I don’t believe someone as beautiful as you is here alone,” He moved his arm that much closer to mine. I pushed out a smile and giggled. 

“I could say the same about you,” We made eye contact for a second “But no seriously, I’m just here with a girlfriend. It was my birthday yesterday but she wasn’t free so we came out today,” I lied. 

“How old did you turn?”

“Twenty Two,” He nodded seemingly content with the answer. 

“So you’re not around here are you?”

“Either you’re a genius or I’m just very bad at blending in, no I’m from New York,” 

“Ah, I have some friends in New York, which part?” 

“Harlem actually but I recently moved to Queens,” I lied again. 

“Oh I don’t many from those cities,”

“If we're being honest I don’t know many people from Queens either my life’s been more hectic ever since I moved,”

“I hear you,” He informed me, leaning on the small backing the stools had. 

We talked for about 15 more minutes, him explaining the switch between New York to Nevada. Then Carmen walked up to me and feigned drunkenness signaling she was done with her job. I made my way back. To the man who’s name I still hadn’t learned. 

“As much fun as I was having talking to you, my friend is way too drunk to be out in public so we should probably head back to the hotel.” I sat back on the barstool turning my legs towards the man batting my eyes 

“Could I possibly use your phone to call an Uber mine is dead?” 

“Yeah of course you can…” His sentence fizzed off at the end in place of where my name would be.

“Ciara,” I filled in “And you are?” 

“Jim” He started handing me the phone.

I used his phone for an entirely different reason than I’d claimed. The project Carmen had been working on was melting the wires together to fix the flash drive that works inside of phones. It hadn’t worked in years.

It took about a minute to duplicate the phone's data. I stuck the flash drive in my bra before going to give the phone back. 

Just as I started moving a loud argument broke out, by the drunk accents I could tell it would soon get violent. Seeing as I had many experiences with an aggressive drunk. I wasn’t going to take my chances and began turning towards the main exit.

 I heard the first shot echo followed by another. Soon everyone was shooting. Including Carmen who I think just wanted an excuse to shoot at people passing it off as “protecting her friends”. 

She was closer to the exit than I was so she slid me the gun and I was able to ward off anyone shooting in our general direction. Not for long though. A bullet lightly grazed my dominant arm’s shoulder; it still dug in enough to do some sweet damage. 

Fuck

What’s up with me? I haven’t been on my A game lately. 

We were also out of bullets. Mostly because we weren’t actually expecting to have to fucking shoot at people. I ducked back down behind the bar trying not to get caught on the broken glassware. 

“I think it would be a good time to do that thing?” I asked. 

She rolled her eyes 

“You know I hate doing it,”

“Well I’m literally bleeding out,” I dramatized pointing to my shoulder. “So if you want to get out of here not in body bags, do the thing,” 

“Alright, just this one time,” She begrudgingly made her way out from behind the bar and away from me. 

I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the glass around me rained down and the bar shook. I could slightly hear the cries from beneath my hands. Once she moved back over to me 

“See that wasn’t so bad, birdy,” I scrambled up to my feet ignoring the pull in my shoulder. 

I made my rounds grabbing Jim’s phone, cash, wallets, watches, and anything else that looked expensive from pockets and the ground. 

I stood awkwardly staring at my feet as I slid from side to side with my butt planted on my skateboard. 

“Hi,” I heard squinting my eyes looking up revealing a equally nervous looking Peter

“Hey,” I nodded at him. 

The conversation wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be he’d apparently asked Liz to prom and he said yes. Which I was definitely super happy about because why wouldn’t I be? 

Anyway who cares about that anyway. Props to Peter for not bringing up the whole ghosting everyone thing for like a week thing. Because if he didn’t bring it up I was going to act like it never happened. 

We talked about everything and anything. From favorite candies or colors to our beliefs about life after death. I’d found out his favorite candy were skittles, favorite color: red and that he was Jewish but not necessarily religious and didn’t believe in heaven or hell but he believed in the eternity of a soul. 

I’d told him that my favorite candy was F/C, my favorite color being pink and that I didn’t know what I believed in. I believed in a higher power but not that they were inherently good because of all the suffering on earth. I’d told him if they weren’t good and had abandoned us while alive. Why would they care or have any plan for us into the afterlife? I think that part is up to us, and what we believe. I’m trying not to think about death.

Then like clockwork he had to leave before 9 which is funny because it’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide his secret identity. He’d told me he lost the internship and normally his excuse to leave was the internship. 

I just guess that means he no longer has Stark’s backup. He only had it for a while anyway he’d be fine without it again. Actually when I think about it,  from his behavior he’d exhibited as Spiderman in the short few months I’d had the displeasure of knowing him as ‘Thorn’ he’d be weak. He was unconfident, relied on his tools far too much. Couldn’t see himself without the suit. So maybe he was really just going home. So he’d be fine. 

I’d also be fine. No matter how much it didn’t look like it at the moment. I’d be fine. I was always fine. I was fine without my mom, without Rose, without my dad, without Olivia and any one else I’d ever been stupid enough to get attached to. I’d bounce back. I always did. 

It’d taken Carmen much convincing to not sit around and babysit me 24/7 because of my shoulder. She was sure that I’d do something dumb and it would get infected. 

 I was sitting on MJ’s bed getting ready for homecoming. My neck jerked again as Bri attempted to detangle and braid my hair. 

If I hadn’t spiraled into the Vulture, Kingpin and SHIELD, rabbit hole I probably would have taken better care of myself and my hair. 

“Stop moving,” She tsked.

“Stop trying to rip my head off my neck,” I hissed back. 

Bri did my nails back when we were still at her house waiting for MJ to pick us up. She actually did pretty good. I think she would do great at a cosmetology school. She's pretty much into everything: hair, nails, makeup the whole nine yards. She did all of that for me. 

The make up was very simple, but I was still able to get my signature winged eyeliner. Winged eyeliner is something very dear to me mostly because Rose was the first to put me on it and I wore it everyday since. It kinda felt disrespectful to stop at this point.

The only thing left was the dress MJ had gifted me. Her mom bought her a dress but she still refused to wear dresses so she returned it for this one, she opted for a very nice pantsuit she already had. Then Bri's outfit of course matched her boyfriend’s. 

I’ve never really liked school dances they’re always so overhyped, but I go to them all anyways, because then I get in on all the drama. It helped me build up my arsenal of knowledge about everyone. 

I was sitting at one of the round tables near the entrance with MJ, Bri, and Olivia. We had a bottle of “Gatorade” open and out for anybody who wanted to drink it. I was about to drink from it when I saw Liz enter alone. 

I made my way over to her.

“Where’s Peter? I thought he asked you?” 

“I don’t even know he just ditched me,” She let out a deep breath. 

“Aw I’m sorry,” I wrapped my good arm around her shoulder.

 “Well don’t think about that asshole, you’re way out of his league anyway,” I assured her to which she let out a weak laugh. 

“Come sit with me and my friends,” 

 A girl with knockers dancing all along her head came up to before speaking 

“Why are you crying?” 

I sniffed pulling my head from my arms. 

“I miss my mom,” 

“I miss my mom sometimes but I like my grandma too,”

“Where’s your mom?” I asked.

“I don’t know my grandma says she’s sick,” She shrugged. “Where’s your mom?”

“Well my grandma says she’s in a better place now but I know that just means dead,” 

“Yeah my dad is dead too so I know what you mean, I’m Rose. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” 

“Y/N, that's a pretty name,” She smiled. “You wanna come sit with me and my friends Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

I jumped a bit at the voice before matching it to MJ

“What?” I asked in a harsher tone then necessary.  

“Jeez sorry,” She reeled back “Someone is asking for you named Carmen. They said it’s important,” She waved her phone around. 

My face dropped and I hoped no one caught it. 

I grabbed the phone exiting the auditorium.

“Okay what’s up?” 

“You know Liz’s dad whatever her name is but yeah, He’s gonna rob that plane that’s moving everything from the Avengers tower,” She rushed

“What!?”

Holy shit 

That must be where Peter’s went. So he figured it out too. Kid’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“I’ll send you the location on your phone,”

“Why didn’t you just call me from there?”

“Because you never answer it,”

“True,” 

“Y/N?” She whispered.

“Yeah?” 

“Be careful,” 

“Always,” I smiled. 

I rushed out of the building not thinking about how I could get caught. Near the buses there was the new Shocker lying unconscious. 

I took the webshooter I found next to him. Then made a run for it. Stopping to hot wire the nearest car, I sped to one of the locations that I knew Vulture’s team kept their weapons at. I was throwing everything in the same pile. Getting ready to destroy them. 

Then the door creaked open.

I felt the bed dip as my brother sat next to me. 

“Are you coming?”

I pulled the cover off my face 

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t,” 

“No I won’t leave me alone,” I pulled the cover back over my head. 

“You gotta eat something,” 

“No I don’t leave me alone,” 

“Y/N…”

I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t wanna hear it. 

“She would want you to eat something,”

“Fuck you! How would you ever know what she would've wanted? No one here knew her and now one will ever get the chance to again so just leave me alone,” 

“Y/N-“

“Don’t Y/N me, get the fuck out of my room,” He sat there for a second, stunned “NOW!” 

As soon as the door closed and I flipped back over

I was shaken back into the present only to find that I was pinned under the man who’d entered the room before I zoned out. He reached for the nearest weapon. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Which is rare. I have a whole weapons catalog in my brain. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t grab it without giving me leeway to get from underneath them. 

Unfortunately for me I put too much pressure on my arm in the seconds I took to grip my shoulder recuperating myself. The man had fired the weapon he had at the pile of weapons that I stumbled back towards. 

The weapons then emitted purple light before exploding leaving me caught under some wood and concrete as the ringing in my ears only got louder and louder.

The fire around me crackled loudly and I bit my lip.

The smoke was only getting more plentiful.

I started coughing which only got more and more painful.

When I came to myself, I wasn’t choking anymore and the fire around me had died down. I was able to push myself from underneath the rubble holding me down. Not without lots of pain though.

The dress I was wearing was torn completely, holes big enough to see what I was wearing underneath it already. 

So I just took it off.

It wasn’t like I was completely naked I was wearing boxers. Not like I haven’t left the house in a bra and shorts before. Also who gives a fuck I just almost died. 

It was like 35° but I wasn’t cold in the slightest. I was actually kind of hot.

If my phone was accurate the plane had already made it near the edge of Queens and Staten Island. Rushing there I was seconds late as I saw the plane crash after I saw two figures fighting along it. 

There was fire everywhere but I wasn’t thinking. I was just running because I couldn’t make out Peter’s shape and if he was dead- 

I swear to fucking God if he was dead. Not again. I couldn’t handle another death.

Peter was saying something. No, pleading as the Vulture stood tall with his wings still intact. He was talking about how it was a nice try and he doesn’t know what he’s messing with.

Peter might not but I knew what this was. I also knew I wasn’t letting him get away with it. 

The wings started producing visible waves of heat. Then it hit me, what Peter was trying to say. The wings were gonna blow.  I got a head start and lunged towards the man. The element of surprise was on my side. That was until he used the wings to lift himself off the ground. 

Now I was fine with parkour and other activities, but being lifted off the ground by someone else, someone who’d never interacted with me ever, is where I draw the line. Then Peter was shooting a web at the wings. To which Vulture dropped me to go after him.

Oh hell no.

“Give it up Peter,” He continued to get closer and closer as the webs were continuously cut through. 

You know how people say they see in red when they get angry? Well the opposite of that happens to me I just see black. Remembering very little to nothing.

Last thing I remembered was fire just fire. From my fingertips, arms, head. It destroyed the wings in seconds, before they had a chance to blow up on their own. 

Peter webbed up the man before moving out of my sight. 

How the fuck do you get fire coming from your body. 

 Literally what the actual fuck. 

I couldn’t breathe. 

That’s what it was, I was dying, I was probably in some coma and this was a weird hallucination my brain pushed out in its final moments.

Okay this is it. I was dying suffocating in some coma.

Or even worse this wasn’t a coma and I was going to die with my body lit on fire literally.

“Oh my God,” I gasped trying to get air into my lungs. 

I closed my eyes and when I opened them Peter was in front of me in a torn up ripoff suit. 

“Y/N,” He moved trying to catch my eye.

“Y/N, Y/N breathe…”

I couldn’t really process his words. My mind was clouded with fear, fear and anger. 

Before I knew it I was hitting my head so I wouldn’t hit anyone or anything else. It’d been a coping mechanism I used ever since I was 3. 

Peter reached for my arms reeling back after his hands came into contact with my boiling skin. 

“Y/N you have to calm down,” He moved in front of me.

I stopped moving my hands but it was still difficult to breathe.

The monitors beeped all around me and if I closed my eyes  and concentrated hard enough. I could convince myself they were birds. 

I could tell from the patter of the knock on the door that it was Rose. 

“Come in!” I called out.

She picked up the clipboard examining it. As she did every time she visited. Luckily for everyone there was no nurse she could bombard with questions and criticism. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked. 

“Itchy, like my guts are on fire,” 

To which she replied by singing the chorus to Girl on Fire. 

“Anyway,” she brought us back after our laughter. “I got you pizza today since I’m sure you’re tired of McDonald’s,”

“I don’t mind McDonald’s actually, anything is better than hospital food. Well actually, their chicken strips aren’t that bad,” 

She placed the box down on my lap. I lifted up the lid and was hit with the smell of the many herbs. I pat by my legs signaling she could sit down. She wiggled into the spot that the bar of the bed allowed. 

“What are we watching today?” 

“Uh…” I clicked on the TV “Vampire Diaries?,”

“That show is still going?

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll ever end,” 

Somehow the show turned into us dancing around the cramped hospital room.

We spun like the ballerinas in the broken jewelry box I got from my mom. Arms flailing around. The air conditioner made a rattling noise and a half eaten pizza on the bed. The situation was probably extremely weird or unpleasant from any other perspective, but because it was her it was perfect. 

It was like the moment in rom coms where the camera zooms into the main characters dancing as the rest of the characters are put out of focus and they stare into each other’s eyes. I closed my eyes. 

When I opened them I saw Peter’s eyes above mine. 

His hands were immediately on my face making my look straight at him. 

“Are you okay?” He breathed out. 

I sat up feeling a pounding in my head and a pull in my lungs. I was met with the fact that I was definitely not on the ground. I was actually very far from the ground on some ride on the pier. My mouth was dry so it took me a minute to get the words out and when I did it hurt my throat.

“Yeah ’m okay jus’ tired,”

“Okay, well don’t go back to sleep because I think you have a concussion,” 

“You’re acting like I died or something, how long was I out dang,” I joked I always hated when things got too serious. 

“Uh probably...30 minutes? I don’t know I don’t have a watch,” He sniffed and that's when I realized he’d be crying. 

“Were you crying? I knew you cared about me,” I smiled “It was only a matter of time before you fell in love with me, I’m irresistible” 

He laughed weakly wiping his eyes “This isn’t funny,” 

I looked up at him and started uncontrollably giggling. Soon Peter was laughing too.

The moment was interrupted by a squad of police cars pulling up. I absolutely did not want to get down but my tired muscles betrayed me. I was extremely exhausted.  I literally could not move. I just had to go wherever Peter decided to take me. I honestly think I might have a few broken ribs. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before though. We stood off to the side watching as Vulture was stuffed into the back of one of the cars. 

“So Spiderman?” I smirked.

“Uh.. no?” He said as if he’s questioning himself. 

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone I’ve known for a while now,” I twisted my body to face him hissing as a sharp sting shot through my body “You're not very good at hiding it,”

“Hey!” He cried out “But seriously you can’t tell anyone,”

“I already said I wouldn’t, but if it makes you feel better I’ll pinky promise you, and everyone knows you can’t break a pinky promise,”

“Alright,” He sighed.

I tried to move closer again and was stopped by the pain in my sides. 

“Okay well, the offer still stands, you’re just gonna have to come over here,”

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

[creepingsharia]

Kenyan Jihadi Pilot Arrested, Plotted to Conduct a 9/11-Style Attack Directed by al Shabaab

This guy was arrested in the Philippines a year and a half ago. Don’t be distracted.      

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE       

Wednesday, December 16, 2020            

Kenyan National Indicted for Conspiring to Hijack Aircraft on Behalf of the Al Qaeda-Affiliated Terrorist Organization Al Shabaab              

Cholo Abdi Abdullah Obtained Pilot Training and Researched How to Hijack Aircraft in Order to Conduct a 9/11-Style Attack at the Direction of al Shabaab

The Department of Justice announced the unsealing of an indictment charging Cholo Abdi Abdullah with six counts of terrorism-related offenses arising from his activities as an operative of the foreign terrorist organization al Shabaab, including conspiring to hijack aircraft in order to conduct a 9/11-style attack in the United States.  Abdullah was arrested in July 2019 in the Philippines on local charges, and was subsequently transferred on Dec. 15, 2020 in connection with his deportation from the Philippines to the custody of U.S. law enforcement for prosecution on the charges in the indictment.  Abdullah was transported from the Phillippines to the United States yesterday, and is expected to be presented today before Magistrate Judge Robert W. Lehrburger in Manhattan federal court.  The case is assigned to United States District Judge Analisa Torres.

“This case, which involved a plot to use an aircraft to kill innocent victims, reminds us of the deadly threat that radical Islamic terrorists continue to pose to our nation.  And it also highlights our commitment to pursue and hold accountable anybody who seeks to harm our country and our citizens.  No matter where terrorists who plan to target Americans may be located, we will seek to identify them and bring them to justice,” said Assistant Attorney General for National Security John C. Demers.  “We owe a debt of gratitude to the detectives, agents, analysts, and prosecutors who are responsible for this defendant’s arrest.”

“Today’s announcement shows that foreign terrorist organizations, like al Shabaab, remain determined to plot, plan, and conspire to commit terrorist acts across the globe against the United States, our interests and our foreign partners,” said FBI Assistant Director for Counterterrorism Jill Sanborn.  “Let there be no doubt that the FBI and our law enforcement colleagues, and in this case specifically those in the Philippines and Kenya, will not stop in our mission to hold terrorists accountable for their actions.  The charges announced today against Cholo Abdi Abdullah eerily draws parallels to the heinous attacks on this country on September 11, 2001.  The FBI, along with our U.S. Government and international partners, will continue to be in lockstep against terrorism and will not allow the safety or security of the public to be threatened – no matter where in the world it may be or whomever is responsible.”

“As alleged, Cholo Abdi Abdullah, as part of a terrorist plot directed by senior al Shabaab leaders, obtained pilot training in the Philippines in preparation for seeking to hijack a commercial aircraft and crash it into a building in the United States,” said Acting Manhattan U.S. Attorney Audrey Strauss.  “This chilling callback to the horrific attacks of September 11, 2001, is a stark reminder that terrorist groups like al Shabaab remain committed to killing U.S. citizens and attacking the United States.  But we remain even more resolute in our dedication to investigating, preventing, and prosecuting such lethal plots, and will use every tool in our arsenal to stop those who would commit acts of terrorism at home and abroad.  Thanks to the outstanding investigative work of the New York Joint Terrorism Task Force, and the FBI’s global partnerships with law enforcement agencies around the world, Abdullah’s plot was detected before he could achieve his deadly aspirations, and now he faces federal terrorism charges in a U.S. court.”

“Nearly 20 years after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, there are those who remain determined to conduct terror attacks against United States citizens. Abdullah, we allege, is one of them,” said FBI Assistant Director-in-Charge William F. Sweeney Jr. “He obtained a pilot’s license overseas, learning how to hijack an aircraft for the purpose of causing a mass-casualty incident within our borders. Fortunately, the exceptional work by the men and women assigned to the many agencies that comprise the FBI’s New York JTTF have, once again, disrupted a threat to our communities.”

“As alleged in the federal indictment against him, Cholo Abdi Abdullah had obtained pilot training and begun plotting a terrorist attack against a target in the United States,” said NYPD Commissioner Dermot Shea.  “But the outstanding work of our NYPD detectives and federal agents of the FBI’s New York Joint Terrorism Task Force, along with all of our law enforcement partners, put an end to those plans and ensured that no one would be harmed.”

As alleged in the Indictment,[1] unsealed today in Manhattan federal court:

The charges in the Indictment unsealed today arise out of a coordinated scheme by the terrorist organization Harakat al-Shabaab al-Mujahideen, commonly known as “al Shabaab,” to target Americans both at home and abroad.  Al Shabaab, which has sworn allegiance to al Qaeda and serves as al Qaeda’s principal wing in East Africa, is responsible for numerous deadly terrorist attacks, including attacks that have claimed American lives.  Recently, al Shabaab has embarked on a string of terrorist attacks as part of an operation purportedly in response to the United States’ decision to move its embassy in Israel to Jerusalem, which the group has dubbed “Operation Jerusalem Will Never be Judaized.”  In particular, these terrorist attacks perpetrated by al Shabaab include an attack on Jan. 15, 2019, at a hotel in Nairobi, Kenya, which resulted in the deaths of approximately 21 people, including a U.S. national and survivor of al Qaeda’s 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center in New York, New York; a Sept. 30, 2019, attack on a U.S. military facility in Somalia; and a Jan. 5, 2020, attack on another U.S. facility in Kenya, in which three Americans were killed.    

As alleged in the Indictment, Abdullah was an al Shabaab operative who participated in a plot to hijack commercial aircraft and crash them into a building in the United States.  Beginning in 2016, at the direction of a senior al Shabaab commander who was responsible for, among other things, planning the 2019 Nairobi hotel attack, Abdullah traveled to the Philippines and enrolled in a flight school there (the “Flight School”), for the purpose of obtaining training for carrying out the 9/11-style attack.  Between 2017 and 2019, Abdullah attended the Flight School on various occasions and obtained pilot’s training, ultimately completing the tests necessary to obtain his pilot’s license.

While Abdullah was obtaining pilot training at the Flight School, he also conducted research into the means and methods to hijack a commercial airliner to conduct the planned attack, including security on commercial airliners and how to breach a cockpit door from the outside, information about the tallest building in a major U.S. city, and information about how to obtain a U.S. visa.

Thanks to the extraordinary work of the FBI, law enforcement authorities foiled this plot.  Abdullah has remained in custody since his arrest on the local charges in the Philippines.

Abdullah, 30, of Kenya, is charged with conspiring to provide and providing material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization (al Shabaab), conspiring to murder U.S. nationals, conspiring to commit aircraft piracy, conspiring to destroy aircraft, and conspiring to commit acts of terrorism transcending national boundaries.  Abdullah faces a maximum sentence of life in prison, and a mandatory minimum sentence of 20 years in prison.  The specific penalties for each of the charges is reflected in the chart below.  The maximum potential sentence in this case is prescribed by Congress and is provided here for informational purposes only, as any sentencing of the defendant will be determined by a judge.

Assistant Attorney General Demers and Ms. Strauss praised the outstanding efforts of the FBI’s New York Joint Terrorism Task Force, which principally consists of agents from the FBI and detectives from the NYPD. They also thanked the FBI Hudson Valley office and the New York State Police.  Ms. Strauss also thanked the FBI Legal Attaché Offices in Nairobi, Kenya, and Manila, the Philippines; the Counterterrorism Section of the Department of Justice’s National Security Division; the Office of International Affairs of the Department of Justice’s Criminal Division; the U.S. Department of Defense; “...the Kenyan Directorate of Criminal Investigations, the Kenyan Anti-Terrorism Police Unit, the Joint Terrorism Task Force-Kenya, and the Kenyan Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions; and the Philippine National Police, Philippine Department of Justice, the Joint Terrorism Financial Investigations Group - Philippines, and Philippine Bureau of Immigration, for their assistance.

This prosecution is being handled by the Office’s Terrorism and International Narcotics Unit.  Assistant U.S. Attorneys David W. Denton, Jr., Sidhardha Kamaraju, and Elinor Tarlow are in charge of the prosecution, with assistance from the Counterterrorism Section of the National Security Division.

The charges in the Indictment are merely accusations, and the defendant is presumed innocent unless and until proven guilty.                  

[1] As the introductory phrase signifies, the entirety of the text of the Indictment and the description of the Indictment set forth herein are only allegations, and every fact described should be treated as an allegation.

Attachment(s):  Download u.s._v._cholo_abdi_abdullah_indictment.pdf

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4747 Chapter: 37/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 37

“I’m bored.”

Tobirama lifted his gaze from the book he’d been lost in for the past – actually he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He found his husband staring back at him with a baleful glare and crossed arms, hunched deeply in to the opposite end of the couch and knees bent to dig his toes in between the cushions they both sat on, thick socks disappearing under the wrappings around his calves.

“Are you sure you’re not just cold?”

“Of course I’m cold! Stupid weather taking a stupid dip. If it gets any colder it won’t need to snow because the air will just freeze on its own!”

Rather than point out the ridiculousness of that statement from a scientific viewpoint Tobirama set his book aside with deliberate movements and reached down between them to free his husband’s feet. Ignoring all protests he drew them in to his lap and curled both of his hands around the chilly toes he could feel even through such thick woolen cloth.

“If you moved around a bit instead of sitting still I’m sure you’d feel warmer,” he suggested. Madara turned his head aside to stick his nose in the air.

“Yeah, well, you’re over here. So.”

“So?”

“So shut up! Maybe I don’t want to move around!”

Tobirama smiled and closed his hands a little tighter when he felt the toes in his grasp wriggling a little. Most people probably thought him to have a cooler body temperature, what with his affinity for water, but he’d found over the years that he weathered the cold much better than most perhaps because of that. Sharing a bit of his body heat wasn’t a massive hardship really. And if it gave Madara a reason to stay here at his side that was all the better.

Not, apparently, that the man needed any more excuses. He seemed prepared to hang around even without thinking of any sort of good reason to and Tobirama was pretty okay with that.

“Would you perhaps like to do something together?” He was polite enough not to laugh when Madara perked up, tensing in that way that said he’d been offered exactly what he wanted but wasn’t ready to admit he wanted it in the first place.

“It would have to be something fun. And something that would actually keep us warm, not just strolling around the marketplace. Or drinking. Hashirama's suggestion is always drinking.”

“Yes and have I recently expressed my gratitude that you deny him?” Tobirama shuddered. One drunken escapade per year was plenty for him. He was the last person who would ever think to tell someone else what they were allowed to do with their body and their time but the thought of Madara crawling in to their bed smelling of a brewery the way he knew he must have the night he did the same, it was not a pleasant one. He found himself awash with gratitude all over again that Madara had taken care of him so well the next day.

Grumbling indistinctly under his breath, Madara took his feet back so he could sit up properly and gaze out the window. “I don’t really want to go outside,” he said, “but I would if we could spar. That’d certainly keep us moving around enough to stay warm – and we can always dress in layers.”

“If we have a proper spar with chakra you’ll be warm from the first jutsu. Or have you forgotten your own element?”

For a moment Tobirama smirked thinking the dumbfounded expression on the other’s face was a reaction to his comment. It took another look for him to see the slowly building light in the dark eyes he loved so much. That was a look he knew well, though it didn’t always spell good news for everyone around them and sometimes it meant he needed to duck and cover right quick.

“We’re married,” Madara blurted and Tobirama paused.

“Yes,” he agreed slowly. “We are.”

“So you’re an Uchiha now.”

“Mn, that’s what you tell me.” The Uchiwa fan he carried between his shoulders never felt so light as the moments when he was reminded of the easy acceptance between them now.

Leaning over to bump their shoulders together, Madara gave him a warning look before going on. “Come on, I’ve just decided how we’re going to stay warm without getting bored.”

“Oh you’ve decided, have you?”

“I have.”

“Well thank you, your highness, for making that executive decision on my behalf.”

Tobirama was already laughing before Madara glared at him and he figured he deserved the hands that bunched in his sleeves and pulled roughly on them, dragging him to his feet.

“You offered!” Madara insisted and he decided to let his husband win this one.

Since apparently he had annoyed his way out of getting to know where they were going he opted to follow Madara's lead and not add any extra layers than a jacket to ward off the chill as they marched out the door. He thought he had a pretty good idea considering which direction they were headed but Hashirama had been after him lately with the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ concept so he decided to wait before making any accusations.

Ten minutes later he smirked to know that his guess was right as they arrived at one of the exclusive Uchiha training grounds, the same one where he so often trained with Kagami. Since Madara usually preferred to use the training grounds outside the village where he and Hashirama could cause as much destruction as they wanted without terrifying the civilians Tobirama thought maybe he would have the advantage here, familiar as he was with the terrain and its uses. Between them only he would know about the softer dirt in the eastern quarter of the field and the badger holes dug in to the north sitting empty and ready to trip up unsuspecting people.

“Right, so, I know you think we’re going to spar,” Madara began and Tobirama blinked at him. Not such a good guess after all. “I’ve got something, uh, different in mind. You can use fire release.”

“I can use all five elemental releases,” Tobirama interrupted him.

“Yes we all know that, you big show off, that wasn’t my point. I was thinking…”

Tobirama valiantly held off on making some kind of distasteful joke. Clearly there was something going on in the other man’s head that he wouldn’t be able to guess at but what he could tell for sure was that it seemed oddly important and so he held his silence, waiting patiently.

“I want to teach you the Grand Fireball Jutsu.”

“What?” His jaw didn’t quite drop but it was a close call. “Isn’t that a protected clan jutsu?”

“Yes and you are a part of this clan so it’s only right that you know it.” Madara continued on despite the deep red color rising in his cheeks, ignoring the matching heat spreading over Tobirama’s entire face. “As an Uchiha you have a right to all of our clan secrets and that includes knowing our signature jutsu. Honestly I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get around to teaching you. If you…want to learn?”

“I would be honored,” Tobirama told him with complete sincerity.

Those were the only words he had in him but they were enough. Nothing could possibly have expressed how touched he was by this gesture. With the amount of times Izuna had thrown the matter in his face or the even more bountiful number of times Madara had assured him on it Tobirama had never felt so much like he belonged, so accepted. He met his husband’s warm gaze and he thought to himself, not for the first time, that this was truly where he was meant to be.

After ages spent doing nothing but staring deeply in to each other’s eyes Madara bit his lip and turned away, freeing Tobirama from having to make a bad attempt at expressing what he was feeling. His husband understood. They both knew each other very well by now. Tobirama just hoped that Madara understood all the nuances of how he felt, more than just the vague knowledge that he was grateful but also that he had never been more in love. Nothing Madara could have done would ever have shown him quite so perfectly that he was accepted here, was truly a member of the family, the clan, the people that he had chosen as his own as surely as he had been thrust upon them unwittingly. From the moment he first realized his own burgeoning feelings there had lingered some unshakable doubts and here at last was his clarity.

He may have been born an heir of the Senju but on the day he married he became an Uchiha. There were no regrets.

Learning a new jutsu was so much less difficult for him than it was for his student but there was still a learning curve with teaching his chakra to mold in to brand new shapes. As they ran through the string of hang signs over and over to get his hands used to the pattern Madara told him that learning this way was tradition for all children, use of the Sharingan expressly forbidden. For any child with the nature to mold fire chakra performing the Grand Fireball Jutsu for the first time was considered their first steps towards adulthood. He refrained again from making any bad jokes about the legitimacy of his own manhood now.

Since he was an adult with years more experience and a dozen more jutsu in his arsenal than the average child Tobirama was able to create at least a mildly impressive Grand Fireball by the time the sun began its descent in the sky. He would need quite a lot more practice before he could make one anywhere close to Madara's and honestly doubted he would ever be able to achieve quite that size. Madara had the advantage of fire being his first nature whereas Tobirama’s was water, fire a hard earned skill that would never come quite as easily.

“Would it be cheesy to tell you that you look dashing with firelight on your skin?” Madara asked as the burn of that first massive Grand Fireball faded from the air, the final product after hours of hard work. He gave an unrepentant grin when Tobirama rolled his eyes in response.

“Yes. It would.”

“Right, then I won’t say it.”

“I’m not sure if I love you more for your terrible sense of humor or if I’m going to make removing it my next science experiment.” Tobirama tapped at his chin with exaggerated thought.

His partner wasn’t fooled in the slightest. To his absolute mortification Madara sidled up close and tugged on the front of his shirt, asking him to bend down for a kiss, even seeming to enjoy it when the tips of his ears flushed a light pink and his eyes darted from side to side like he expected a horde of gasping onlookers to appear from the tree line.

“Out here?” He asked dubiously. Madara tugged a little more insistently.

“Kiss me, damn it. I just showed you a very lovely gesture and now you’re being mean to me.”

He did sort of have a point there so Tobirama bent and allowed Madara to drag him in to a kiss fiery enough that he began to worry all over again about how public these grounds were – in the back of his mind, of course, since most of his attention was immediately distracted by the feel of those gorgeous lips against his own.

Naturally the moment he stopped paying lots of attention to the world around them that was when the world decided to intrude itself upon their solitude in the form of two familiar faces. One of them was more than welcome, or would be as soon as she quit making wolf whistles across the field; Susumu hadn’t a drop of shame in her entire body. The other face Tobirama could have lived without. Likely his husband would be happy to see Izuna there, the two most precious and beloved members of his family together, but Tobirama could only think that having his brother-in-law appear had ruined the calm and happy atmosphere they’d been enjoying all afternoon. He was smart enough to keep that to himself as well though.

“Getting in a little exercise, are we?” Susumu waggled her eyebrows until Madara shoved her, Izuna turning his head to mime gagging. “What are the two of you scrumptious little bits getting up to then, eh?” Her curiosity only increased when they shared a look. Madara waved him on so Tobirama cleared his throat to bring all eyes to himself.

“We were practicing the Grand Fireball Jutsu,” he revealed softly.

“No shit? Well it’s about time!”

At her side, Izuna clearly did not share that opinion. His face pinched immediately but, to his credit, he managed to keep his mouth shut, a massive step up from all the months of deliberate antagonism. Tobirama almost thought he deserved a reward for such good behavior but bringing attention to it in any way was likely to toss them right back to where they started.

“So how did it go then?” Susumu demanded, as timely with her distractions as ever. Tobirama smiled for her.

“Quite well,” he said. “I’m not quite able to  imitate what Madara can do but I imagine that few can.”

“What he means to say is that he made incredible progress in one day and we should all be very impressed.” Madara interrupted, jabbing him with one elbow.

“I know I am. Good for you, muffin, good for you!”

Tobirama hummed noncommittally, not sure what to do with so much praise. It was different when it was Hashirama. His brother was naturally dramatic at all times and he’d stopped taking the man seriously a long time ago but with others he never quite knew what to say. Much easier was attempting to push the focus off of himself by asking what such an unlikely pair as Susumu and Izuna were doing out here in the middle of the day.

“What else would we be doing out here on a training field?” Izuna grumbled, low enough Tobirama didn’t think anyone else heard him.

“Oh, you know me. I get bored. This one was moping around the tower so I told him to put all that boring shit down for the day and pulled him out to work off a bit of steam with me. With you two here maybe we could make things a little more interesting?”

A terrible swooping feeling nearly ripped Tobirama’s stomach right out through his throat but the gods had mercy on him in the form of Madara shaking his head and declaring them already tired enough after their own training. If the four of them were to pair off for a spar he knew exactly who he would be matched against and fighting Izuna in any way was precisely the opposite of what he wanted. That was just one more thing that would have taken them right back to the start.

Listening while the three of them started gossiping and trading juicy tidbits about things happening around the Uchiha compound, small clan dramas he had no interest in, Tobirama eventually zoned out of what they were saying to focus on observing instead. He loved seeing Madara like this, so relaxed and happy as he chatted without thinking about his reputation or trying to impress anyone. And he was growing fonder and fonder of Susumu every time they met. Either of them could have easily drawn his eye and yet it was to Izuna that he looked, Izuna whose body language both yearned for his brother and held back at the same time, who leaned in to everything his most precious person said but kept his arms folded like an unconscious barrier between them.

Someone, it seemed, had been doing a lot of thinking. Not once since arriving had he made any snarky comments besides pretending to gag, though that could easily be attributed to brotherly teasing, and in fact he had mostly avoided even looking in Tobirama’s direction almost as though he wished to avoid the temptation to start a fight. The idea of rewarding good behavior suddenly didn’t seem like such a terrible idea after all.

Even better, Tobirama knew just how to do that without making it seem like he was trying to make fun of his brother-in-law. All he needed was the right moment and he didn’t even have to wait too long for that. The stars weren’t even out yet but they were all aligning just for him. Just as Madara began excusing them to go back home and let the other two have the field he laid a hand on his husband’s arm and tilted his head down in apology for the interruption. Then he looked to his brother-in-law.

“I’m glad we ran in to each other,” he murmured to the man’s obvious surprise. “I have something that I wished to give you.”

“Well that’s suspicious.” Izuna jerked when Susumu reached up to punch him in the arm, twisting his mouth in to a wry expression while he rubbed the sore spot but not taking his words back.

“Unexpected, I’m sure. He is not wrong to say so, Susumu-san, there’s no need for violence.”

“He could try being a little more polite,” she snapped back.

Tobirama very carefully did not smile or laugh. “He may react in whichever way he feels. And to that note, he is not in any way obligated to accept my offer; I would appreciate it if you do not disparage him no matter how he chooses.”

If the group of them hadn’t been looking at him strangely before then they were now. Madara eyed him from the side with a dubious expression while Susumu gave him a look that blatantly questioned whether he might have contracted some sort of fever. He understood their concerns, though, so it was easy enough to ignore them and concentrate on Izuna who had subtly dropped his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice in case this was all a trick.

“Go on then,” he demanded. “What do you want?” He watched intently as Tobirama brought one of his hands to the opposite arm and pressed his thumb in to the seal inked there along his wrist, a seal that their other two companions had only seen him use once.

“This is not a gift for any specific occasion or with any obligation. It is also not a gift given lightly.” With a brief flash the Raijin no Ken appeared between his hands from where he kept it stored in the seal on his arm. “This sword has been a Senju heirloom since their clan head won it from ours so many generations back that many have forgotten where it originated from. As our clan’s most skilled warrior with a lightning nature I wish for you to be the new bearer of Raijin no Ken, that it be returned to the place it truly belongs.”

It was hard to decide which part of that had shocked everyone the most. That he was willing to give up his most powerful weapon maybe. Perhaps that he would give it to Izuna specifically. Or maybe, for Izuna, it was that he referred to the Uchiha as ‘our’ clan, including himself in their number so naturally as though he belonged here as much as the sword and all of them, passed through generations of Senju only to come home to the Uchiha where he was meant to be.

Silence reigned while Izuna visibly struggled with how to react. Both Madara and Susumu were good enough to keep their mouths shut despite how they were obviously bursting at the seams with their own opinions and for that Tobirama was grateful. He coached himself to patience as well, carefully observing the way Izuna’s weight rocked back and forth like he wanted to reach for what had been offered but held himself back for reasons known only to him. The fingers of his left hand twitched. His brows furrowed and relaxed so many times they seemed to dance across the top of his face until finally he looked away and for a moment Tobirama felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Disappointment rippled through him.

Then Izuna took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and turned to meet his eyes with a determined set to his jaw.

“You’re not going to regret it in a month and ask for it back?”

“No. The blade is yours if you will take it from me.” A significant caveat and they both understood that. The meaning of the gift would be changed entirely if anyone else were to offer it; Izuna had to accept that the blade came from Tobirama’s hands if he accepted it at all.

“And you’re not trying to bribe anything out of me either.”

Tobirama didn’t bother gracing that with a response. It sounded more like a statement than a question but even if it was a true worry it wasn’t worth soothing. He had nothing to gain with bribery and would never lower himself to such tactics when it came to making peace with his husband’s family. Another moment of silence passed before finally Izuna reached out with both palms turned up to receive the sword.

“I accept your gift and will treat it with the honor it deserves,” he intoned, snapping a quick glare over at his brother when Madara blew out an explosive breath of relief.

“May it serve you well.” Tobirama let his fingers tighten around the handle of a blade he had cared for and loved since he was first allowed to bear it as his own. Then he gently cradled the weapon across Izuna’s palms and released it in to the care of another who, though he loathed to admit it, could make use of such a legendary weapon much better than him. Seeing the Raijin no Ken once again in the hands of one who had truly mastered lightning would be a wonder, if nothing else.

As he handed it over Tobirama wondered, for a moment, just how angry the Senju elders would be when they found out he had given one of their most prized heirlooms away. Then he serenely dismissed the thought. He was a member of the Uchiha clan himself now so he could hardly be faulted for passing the blade along his own line.

Reverently and with awe poorly hidden in his eyes Izuna clasped the handle of his new weapon and raised it up, infusing just enough chakra for the blade to burst in to life the way it was meant to, a strike of lightning contained in human hands. The light of it against his skin made him look sallow but the excitement on his face almost made Izuna handsome. Almost. Tobirama bit his lip and peeked sideways. He would always prefer the older brother in every way.

“What do you say?” Susumu asked, her elbow uncharacteristically gentle when she nudged it in to her companion’s side.

“Thank you,” Izuna breathed. “It’s…a good gift.”

“A worthy gift,” Tobirama corrected him.

Their eyes met once more and he saw the battle in the other man’s gaze but it was a softer look than he’d ever seen directed at him and the battle was, at long last, over in only a few heartbeats of silence. He watched Izuna capitulate right before him and, strangely, felt none of the triumph he might have expected. They might never come to enjoy each other’s company but they would both be a part of Madara's life for the rest of their own and it seemed as though the gravity of that was finally getting through Izuna’s thick head. As Susumu had advised one brother in the earlier stages of this marriage, so too had the younger brother finally come to realize: they may not have chosen the connection between them but there was little point in making themselves extra miserable by fighting it so strongly.

“Want to try it out properly?” Madara asked with eagerness in his gaze. Izuna returned that look all too easily and the two of them darted a good enough distance away that there was space for Madara to take up the blade Izuna had brought with him so his brother could test out this new one.

“That was very well done,” Susumu murmured once they were out of earshot. When Tobirama looked down she was looking back up at him with knowing approval.

“I received some very helpful advice on the timing of it,” he acknowledged.

She smiled and patted him on the arm, gently for once. “Whether I’ve said it before or not this feels like a good day to say it again. Welcome to the family, kiddo. You’re doing great.”

“Am I?”

“The way you two started was foreign to me - to all of us - but even an old crust like myself is allowed to have a change of heart sometimes. After watching your relationship grow I can’t imagine anyone else by his side. You’re good for him; and I think he’s good for you too.”

Both of them turned their gazes away to watch their loved ones making a spectacle of themselves, hooting and hollering with joy as lightning sparked around them unheeding, and though Tobirama said nothing in return he knew that he didn’t have to. Instead of words he very slowly lifted one hand to rest it on Susumu’s shoulder, holding tension in his own until several seconds had passed with no reaction from her. She really had gotten to know him well, enough to know exactly what such a gesture would mean from him and, thankfully, how embarrassing he would find it for her to point it out.

“Should we rein them in before they destroy this whole field?” He asked eventually, eyeing the long scores of burnt grass adding themselves to the damage he’d already done himself during training.

“Oh let them play for a bit,” his companion tutted. “They’re having fun.”

“Their fun runs the risk of burning down the whole village if it spreads too far.”

“Killjoy.”

Tobirama looked down at her again with a mild expression. “My apologies for protecting the people of this village from two idiots with no restraint.”

He was glad to hear her laugh but even more glad when she moved forward to put an end to the play they were watching. Partly because he was worried about them getting a little too out of control as he’d said but also partly because he wanted to take his husband home and enjoy the rest of their day together. After such a peaceful start he hadn’t expected the last few hours to be riddled with so many emotions and he was ready for evening to bring back the calm.

Seeing Madara so filled with joyful energy was oddly reminiscent of the way he looked after a good spar with Hashirama, the ones where they didn’t run themselves in to exhaustion, and Tobirama decided he was glad to see the man so happy. Positive interactions between him and his brother had been few and far between over the past year.

“I guess they want to spar now,” his husband said as he came back across the field. “Ready to go home?”

“Mm, very. I believe a nice bath is in order and then perhaps something to eat. After all that exercise I am famished.” Tobirama put a hand to his belly, feeling more than hearing the empty gurgle it made.

“That sounds good, actually.”

It really did. Tobirama was in such a good mood he didn’t even spare a single thought when Madara wove their hands together for the walk home. Why should he? He was proud to have this man as his husband and if he wanted to show that pride off a little bit then he should be able to, especially when most of the people who would see them were members of their own clan.

A clan that Tobirama was proud to call his own.