#Off-Chain Network

[intelisync]

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[wolfiery]

reblog to like ratio is sooooo sad on here these days. SIGH.

[crimmson]

between my computer deciding to rebel, and work, and life, and I feel like I have a perpetual minor cold with that kinda slightly stuffy feel and that taste in the back of my throat,

I am kindly requesting someone to just Old Yeller me at this point

[honourablejester]

I’m realising as I browse around that I really love lore when it comes to ttrpgs, games and game worlds. And by that I don’t mean I like to obsessively learn lists of dates and wars, and the names of leaders of factions, I mean …

I like learning weird, juicy details about the worlds of games. I like finding little nuggets that say things about the set-up and culture and assumptions of the world. I like finding fragments of ideas to hang whole story and character concepts off.

I love that in D&D 5e’s Spelljammer, the Astral Sea is full of the corpses of dead gods that you can fully sail up to in your ship. Just. Floating out there. Waiting for you to rock up to them.

I love that in Sunless Sea, the king of the drowned is the way he is because he fell in love with an eldritch sea urchin from space, and successfully married it. His niece is an angry sentient floating mountain whose mother is a goddess-mountain and whose father is a face-stealing humanoid abomination. This is fine and normal.

I love that in Starfinder, there are mysterious bubble cities in the surface of the sun that the church of the sun goddess discovered and cheerfully occupied despite having no idea who the hell built them or for what purpose.

I love that in Dishonored, the entire industrial revolution that has built the empire we’re in the midst of saving or destroying was built on the properties of whale oil harvested from eldritch tentacled whales that live half in the oceans and half in an eldritch void personified in the form of a weird-ass black-eyed shit-stirrer of a deity who was formed from a murdered and sacrificed child. And this is largely a background detail.

I love in the Elder Scrolls that the dwarves up and fucking vanished, as a race, at some point in history and absolutely nobody has any clue what happened to them or where they went, but their technology is so insane that ideas like ‘they time-travelled’ or ‘they erased themselves from existence’ are absolutely on the table.

I love that in Numenera, so many incredibly advanced civilisations have risen and fallen on this world that it’s absolutely littered with bonkers science fiction artefacts that have caused the current medieval-esque society built over top of them to develop in bizarre ways, and also you can find a mysterious artefact that absolutely baffles and delights your character, but that you the player will fully recognise as a slightly-more-advanced thermos flask.

I love that in Fallout, an irradiated post-nuclear apolocalypic hellscape, there’s a cult that worships the god of radiation as they have come to understand it, and they are mysteriously immune to radiation with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. They’re not ghouls, the usual result of fatally irradiated humans with some resistance, they’re perfectly normal humans who can somehow just tank rads all damn day. It could be a mutation, but Lovecraftian gods apparently do also fully exist in this setting, so it’s also possible that maybe they were on to something with this Atom thing.

I love that in Heart The City Beneath, there’s a mass transit train system that they tried to hook up to the eldritch beating god-thing buried under the city so that they could metaphysically chain the stations together more easily, which went horrifically and metaphysically wrong in entirely predictable fashion, and now there’s a whole order of train-knights who have to keep people safe from the extradimensional weirdness magnet the network has become.

That, and all the fantastic little details you can stumble across. There’s a biotech augmentation in Starfinder called an angler’s light that gives you a little angler-fish bioluminescent antenna on your forehead, and it was developed by asteroid miners who needed light but also both hands free for work. In Dishonored there’s a festival that everyone pretends is outside of time so nothing you do during it can be held against you. There’s a god of snuffed candles mentioned in a single line from Heart The City Beneath who has pacifist cannibal priests, and that is literally all the information you get on him.

While things like the history and geography and timeline of a world do also fascinate me, I’m not really here to memorise stuff like that. I’m here to find weird little nuggets of information and worldbuilding and delight in them. Give me funerary customs and weird myths and oddly specific circumstances and baffling little objects and absolutely bonkers cosmological implications. Give me the corpses of dead gods, and aesthetic movements with highly specific backstories, and bureaucratic fuck-ups of titanic scale, and mysterious things that seem to break all other rules of your setting with absolutely no explanation because people in-universe have no fucking clue how they work either. Why are the Children of Atom immune to radiation without ghoulifying? Not a clue, but Confessor Cromwell has been cheerfully standing in that irradiated pond that kills the player character with about 10 minutes of exposure for the last year and he’s still absolutely fine.

I just. I really love lore. I like my settings to have some meat in them, some juicy details to dig into, some inexplicable elements to have fun trying to explain. Particularly that last bit. I feel like a lot of people when building worlds feel like the rules have to be absolute and everything has to have an explanation, but nah. Putting some weird shit in makes everything immediately feel bigger, more real, because we don’t have even half an idea of how our world truly works, there’s always something we just don’t fully understand yet, and you can put that in a fictional world too. Some mysteries, some contradictions, some randomness, some weirdness. There’s a line, obviously, this depends on execution, but a little bit of mystery really does help.

Lore is awesome. And weird lore is even more so. Heh.

[gothicprep]

i've been meaning to write something for a while now about how misinformation is not a partisan issue, it's just an issue in general. i was mulling over writing something about how infowars waterboards statistics into saying whatever alex jones wants – i'll still probably do that in the future – but it's not something that exactly supports my thesis here.

but, lucky me, i had a perfect example fall into my lap this week.

so, was andrew tate taken into custody over twitter beef with greta thunberg? the short answer is "no" but i'll elaborate.

here's the primary romanian news report about the cops taking the tate brothers into custody. the way that this has been reported in US news media has basically been that a pizza box in andrew tate's video response to thunberg helped romanian authorities confirm his location. here's a daily beast article that insinuates this:

In a video rant he uploaded to Twitter, in which he smoked a cigar and tried to brush off the online spat, he unwittingly displayed a pizza box from a local pizza chain—alerting authorities looking for him to his presence in the country.

here's the problem with that, though – none of the romanian journalists who reported on this story said anything about the pizza box thing. there's also a huge problem with these stories just... citing each other.

if you dig through the citation loop long enough, you end on this daily star article that cites tweets (jurnelism!) from, of course, alejandra caraballo

According to Alejandra Caraballo, a writer and clinical instructor posting on Twitter: “Romanian authorities needed proof that Andrew Tate was in the country so they reportedly used his social media posts.

(as an aside, if you follow her on twt, i'd heavily recommend against doing that. she spews bullshit like her life depends on it and i think this is inexcusable.)

these are caraballo's tweets in question:

the source for this is the romanian article i linked to earlier in this post. it doesn't say any of this. at least, the english translated version of it doesn't. for what it's worth, i'm not a romanian speaker, and i don't have any benchmark for judging if google's translation service is missing linguistic nuances. here's what it actually says:

Sources close to the investigation stated, for Gândul , that shortly after the completion of the computer expertise, the authorities waited for the right moment to catch the Tate brothers, who were always out of the country.

After seeing, including on social networks, that they were together in Romania, the DIICOT prosecutors mobilized the special troops of the Gendarmerie and descended, by force, on their villa in Pipera, but also on other addresses.

it's also probably worth pointing out that tate's villa was previously searched in april. while the article does say that social media was used to help confirm their location, it doesn't say anything about pizza boxes. and, like, given that tate is a prolific social media poster and was tweeting out videos of romania on sunday, i think it's safe to assume they had a wealth of other information to go off.

and if you don't want to take my word for it, nyt and wapo both reported that the spokesperson for the romanian prosecutor presiding over the case denied the pizza box thing:

Speculation online centered on whether a distinctive pizza box featured in one of Mr. Tate’s tweets to Ms. Thunberg had helped lead the authorities to him, but Ramona Bolla, a spokeswoman for the Directorate for the Investigation of Organized Crime and Terrorism, told The New York Times on Friday that that was not the case.

anyway, ain't it funny how caraballo's made the fuck up pizza tweet got 76 million views, 97k retweets, and 525k likes, while her appended correction got 78k views, 100 retweets, and 820 likes. her initial "source: my mind" tweet is still up. ain't. it. funny.

[togamest]

how the furin boys kiss. -> 616 words. gn!reader, just super cute fluffy stuff. some suggestive elements spread out, but no pronouns or y/n usage. this was suggested by @otakumodeactivaded — i hope you enjoy! <3 -> feat. haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suou, and toma hiragi.

sakura is a quick learner when it comes to kissing. he's shy, though, mostly out of inexperience, and the embarrassment of not being good at it keeps him chained to his inexperience. he's the type of guy who stammers out a "no, i know how to do it!" when you ask him, with blush spreading across his face in a light pink color, and when you do eventually kiss, he doesn't seem like he really knows what he's doing. however, he does let you move his hands to where you want them. he's pliant, because despite all his faults, and he wants to learn. he wants to know how to kiss you in the ways you enjoy. he's hesitant as well, nervous of screwing up, but with your pretty eyes on him and your lips centimeters from his own, he knows you won't judge him. you never fail to remind him of that fact, too.

umemiya kisses like he's putting his heart into every single one. they're long and smooth, commanding even, his tongue sliding against your own so sweetly that it would seem you were made for him. he always asks for one from you, too, even in the silliest circumstances. he needs at least one goodbye kiss from you as you go off to class, or one when he sees you and sweeps you up in his arms. he's the king of peppering kisses, never failing to kiss all over your face as you giggle and try to shove him off, saying he's annoying. he's not though, you and him both know that. he always says a soft i love you after each and every one, no matter how heated they are. most times, he'll pick you up when he kisses you, twirling around with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he catches you in a sprint, his lips pressing against yours.

hayato kisses you like you're going to leave him. there's something desperate in it, as if he's trying to prove himself to others, but feels embarrassed that he feels the need to do so in the first place. he's very polite about it, at first giving you forehead and cheek kisses, but behind closed doors he practically devours you. it's messy, spit spreading across your chins as he bullies his tongue inside your mouth. he enjoys the power dynamic between you both, the way you fall apart so quickly in his adept, mature hands and tongue. he likes hearing the little moans that fall from your own lips, muffled from his mouth. he's handsy, too; he'll always need skin contact in some way when he kisses you. big fan of the "cupping cheek" kiss.

hiragi kisses you gently, like he's scared that he's going to break you if he goes full force. every touch is gentle and soft, every kiss is a peck and not more; he holds himself back, just slightly, just enough for you to pick up on the fact that he's holding back. when you ask him to stop doing that, when you pout and tell him to kiss you for real, he pauses for a moment, before you squeal as he pulls you in for a burning kiss, your mouths smashing together. he likes to kiss you when you're pressed against something, as if he's concerned that his force will make you fall back onto the ground. he needs to have you secured when he kisses you, be it with his hands wrapped around you, or you pressed up against a wall. he's a huge fan of neck kisses, too; loves hearing your little hitch in breath as he presses his lips against your pulse point.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[vivalabunbun]

Sweet Sweet Nothings

Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage

Word Count: 7K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham

Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!

Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office. 

“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”

“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior. 

A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp. 

“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”

“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters. 

–

“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side. 

Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands. 

Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four. 

“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow. 

“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand. 

“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else. 

“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed. 

Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing. 

There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you. 

His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets. 

The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule. 

The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy. 

–

“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup. 

“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape. 

His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham. 

Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite. 

The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets. 

How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand. 

“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body. 

“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip. 

From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for. 

You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by. 

“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him. 

“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit. 

“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest. 

“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours. 

“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed. 

Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep. 

His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within. 

“Mmm… More…” 

“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit. 

The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more. 

“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair. 

Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted. 

Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all. 

In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it. 

Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering. 

“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle. 

You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines. 

“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you. 

At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features. 

“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully. 

Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl. 

“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his. 

“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear. 

He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process. 

“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue. 

You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight. 

He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release. 

Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close. 

“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.

“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck. 

Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest. 

“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face. 

You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least. 

“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose. 

You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back. 

The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off. 

“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted. 

Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs. 

“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in. 

Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details. 

The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage. 

–

You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times. 

At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. 

“Haitham.” You began. 

“Mm?”

“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring. 

“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up. 

“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band. 

You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore. 

He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness. 

The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you. 

“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you. 

You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring. 

“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile. 

“Did you want me to?” 

“No.” 

You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond. 

Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores. 

“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?” 

“...” 

“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face. 

You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper. 

As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed. 

“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable. 

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them. 

“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought. 

The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk. 

Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently. 

The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind. 

Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you. 

“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back. 

You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight. 

–

It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall. 

Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer. 

“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck. 

Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture. 

Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes. 

“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.” 

If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs. 

Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them. 

The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would  place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit. 

Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them. 

The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable. 

–

Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out? 

“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?”

“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile. 

That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy. 

Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant. 

One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets. 

By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns. 

At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.

Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you. 

Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise. 

You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt. 

Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture. 

“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.” 

Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband. 

“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe. 

Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment. 

“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”

The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture. 

“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.” 

Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome. 

The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor. 

“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”

Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you. 

–

Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.

“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk. 

“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents. 

His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information. 

“Is there any more you would like to discuss?” 

“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket. 

Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor. 

Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy. 

“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.

Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game. 

“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand. 

“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t. 

“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket. 

This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.

“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.” 

Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk. 

“It’s unnecessary.” 

“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.” 

“...”

“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”

“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”  

 Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough. 

You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.

 Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.

However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either. 

“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly. 

“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top. 

“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh. 

“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure. 

“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile. 

“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump. 

Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises. 

–

“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily. 

Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room. 

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves. 

“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.” 

“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.” 

“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.” 

“Haitham-”

“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.” 

“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.” 

“Of course.” 

There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore. 

“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin. 

“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud. 

“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head. 

“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing. 

Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied. 

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible. 

“Haitham, I think my water broke.” 

Nevermind. 

–

 You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself. 

However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you. 

You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all. 

--

“WWAAHHHHH!” 

A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls. 

“It's a boy!” The doctors announced. 

--

“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn. 

Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly? 

“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle. 

Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you. 

To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance. 

“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back. 

“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks. 

Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily. 

“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”

“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”

“I never scowl at you.”

“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”

“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him. 

The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest. 

“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”

“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.” 

Fin~

[cupcakeinat0r]

DadBod!Miguel as a brat tamer

You’d been dying to go out dancing for a while now, but your man, Miguel, wasn’t too keen on going. Besides being swamped with work, he also wasn’t really into the scene due to his introverted nature. Not that you were an extrovert nor was it your scene either, however, you did love to dance. You didn’t need to drink or smoke or take those “poppers” or network with a bunch of fakes or whatever. You just loved to dance, and Miguel loves nothing more than to see you happy, so he agreed.

Miguel took you to a really nice spot in the city that played some salsa and reggaeton bangers. For Miguel, the smile plastered on your face made all the loud music and over-bearing people worth dealing with.

“Alright, mama, the floor is all yours. I’ll be waiting here.” He uses his lips to motion at a small table off to the side. Attached to his arm, you look up at him with a frown.

“You sure you don’t wanna dance with meeeee?” You bat your eyes, using one last effort to get him on the dance floor, but alas, he wouldn’t budge. To ease the disappointment, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and tells you to have fun, and that he gets more joy out of watching you instead.

Making your way into the crowd, one of your favorite songs comes on and you immediately get into it, and like sew, you find a group of those sweet girls that are complete strangers but end up being your best friends by the end of the night because that’s how nights at the club go.

You all dance with each other, singing/screaming the lyrics at each other. Y’all salsa dance with each other, swaying your hips, letting loose. You’re having a blast, but a part of you still wishes that Miguel was dancing with you.

You glance over at the small table where he sits with his legs spread wide open, his black slacks that fit his thick thighs and ass perfectly, and his belt hugging his wide waist, his soft belly the cherry on top. His black top is buttoned up except for the top four, letting his chest hair peek. The long sleeves are fighting for their lives as they try to contain his bulging muscles. He makes the table look so small. His dress shoes are just as shiny as the thin, gold chain around his neck. He takes a swig of his drink as he looks back at you, practically undressing you with his eyes. You smile at him when you decide to give him a show.

Miguel lets his mouth sit slightly open as he watches you dance, your ass jiggling through the thin fabric of your dress. Whilst enjoying your show, he’s simultaneously looking around, making sure no one makes a move on what’s his.

The song comes to an end and a more slow one begins. You start seeing people couple up and you look at Miguel again, your hand motioning for him to come to you.

Miguel shakes his head and raises his hands in refusal, but you’re not giving up.

It’s corny, but you start lassoing a pretend rope, miming as if you’re pulling him onto the dance floor. This wins a chuckle from him, but he doesn’t get up, shaking his head ‘no’. You drop your hands in defeat then make a tear drop motion with your finger on your face and pout. He pouts as well, and mouths ‘I love you’ as a sorry for not wanting to dance.

You chuckle back and roll your eyes, walking toward the table.

“You’re really not gonna slow dance with me? Not even a little bit?” You ask with your hands on your hips.

“Baby, you know I’m not a dancer.” He says, grabbing your hand to rub circles on with his thumb.

“I’m not asking you to be a dancer, I’m asking you to hold me and step side to side with me for like 2 minutes.” You cross your arms, actually getting upset now.

“How about this, I’ll slow dance with you when we get home, alright?” He speaks lovingly, trying to compromise his own insecurities so that you were happy. You let out a short sigh, “You’re acting like an old man…” Miguel wasn’t amused by that comment, but he knows you’re just giving attitude at this point. “ay beba, por favor, no seas asi conmigo…” he tuts, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer in between his legs, his thumbs making circles on the fat of your hips.

“No, that’s fine. Be like that then.” You pull away from his hands to turn on your heel, going back to the dance floor.

Everyone is already paired up, and you look around awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a guy.

He’s absolutely nothing compared to your Miguel but you guess he’ll do for now. You smile at him and begin dancing with him. It’s bachata, so your hips are extremely close to his, his hands tightly grabbing your waist to keep you tightly against his own body.

The glass in Miguel‘s hand could’ve broken had he squeezed any tighter.

You paid no mind to him, but you could feel Miguel’s eyes practically burning a hole into you. Maybe next time, he won’t think twice about dancing with you now.

He thinks about just running in there and ripping the guy to shreds, but he knew better than to embarrass his girl in public like that. He’ll have a talk with you later, privately.

2 hours go by and Miguel sits miserably at his seat after watching you dance with strangers. When you walk back to the table tiredly, you see how pissed Miguel looks.

“Okay… I’m ready to go home!” You’re breathing hard from dancing. Miguel is silent and cold, but still stands to take your hand and walk you out of the club, holding your purse, carrying your shoes, and letting you wear his jacket.

The whole ride home is quiet and his hand that is usually on your thigh isn’t there. You know why. You felt bad, but you never asked much of him, and the one thing you ask for, he wouldn’t give to you.

Still feeling guilty, you try to start conversation in the car, about what to possibly cook for dinner or if y’all needed any groceries, but he just kept facing the road, his brows furrowed and hands clutching onto the steering wheel.

Once you two get home, you reach for your car door handle, but Miguel spits out a curt ‘wait’. Miguel hates when you open doors for yourself. That’s his job, the gentleman. He leaves the car to go over to your side to open the door, but when he does, he stands in your path, and you’re not able to get out, “Care to explain to me what all that was?” His speaks with authority.

“What do you mean?” You play slick. You knew your boyfriend was a giant teddy bear at heart, but sometimes… it was fun pushing his buttons.

“Que tu creer? The stunt you pulled at the club, that’s what I’m talking about.” You’re really trying him, but Miguel is doing his best to control his temper.

“I was just dancing. I asked you if wanted to and you said no, so-“ and in less than a second, Miguel’s pulled you over his shoulder and is carrying you into the house.

You laugh hysterically, kicking your feet, calling out his name and telling him to put you down. Oh, he was mad. You were laughing, but none of this was funny to Miguel.

“o, bueno, entonce baile con un cabron, right?”His voice starts to raise and his blood begins to boil as he walks through the front door and makes way to y’all’s bedroom.

He throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing on the softness of the comforter as you let out some giddy chuckles.

“Jealous?” You smirk, having a little too much fun with this.

“You think this is funny? Cuz’ I don’t.” His lips don’t curl even a bit, which meant you were in for it. You watch him start to unbuckle his pants, biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together.

Just when he was gonna pull down his slacks and briefs, you gasp when he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you open. He basically rips your panties off to find that you’re already starting to drip. “Puta madre, you’re so needy…” he hisses under his breath while he pulls down his briefs, revealing his own dripping, hard mess. He goes to pump himself, inches away from your heat. Watching him fuck his own hand so close to your entrance, you needed some type of relief, so you reach for your clit, but Miguel is quick to catch it and hold it above your head, pinning your other hand shortly after, “Nuh uh, you don’t get to do that. Not tonight, baby.”

His vice on your wrist is tight, making you squirm under him while he thrusts into his one hand, your wrists pinned against the pillow in the other.

His breathing picks up as he edges to his climax, the squelching of his pre-cum in his hand ringing in your ears. He purposefully moans and whimpers into the shell of your ear, putting you through absolute torture. “You don’t like it, do you? Not getting what’s yours? Huh?” He breathlessly speaks between each pound into his fist, your moans becoming more desperate. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, your body weeping for his fat cock.

“Mig, please, pleaseeeee… not fairrrrr,” you beg, wriggling under his grasp, his belly grazing yours every time you arch your back. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and any time you tried lifting your cunt closer to his dick, he’d pull away so you wouldn’t reach, and you’d whine in defeat.

“Not fair? Dancing with some idiot when I told you to wait ‘til we get home isn’t fair.” He growled. With a small whimper, he did one last, slow thrust into his hand before he could combust, edging himself because he wasn’t gonna let you have the pleasure of having his come all over your stomach. Not yet.

He lets go of your hands and positions himself on his knees, moving closer to your leaking cunt. Getting hot, he unbuttons his top and throws it across your shared bedroom, unveiling his now glistening dad bod. You thought you could come just from the sight.

“Fuck, had you not acted up, I’d be devouring this… mierda…” his mouth waters from how wet you were, but he had to stand on business. You flinched when you feel one of his thick fingers drag along your folds, from the bottom to top. When his middle finger meets your pulsing clit, he draws small circles on it, making you whine, “Miguel! Please, I’m sorryyyy, pleasepleasepleaseplease…”

Your eyes are wide shut and your mouth completely open when he starts quickly shaking his forefingers against your clit, your juices flying and falling onto his lap. Miguel takes your moans as indications that you’re close, so just when you’re about to come,

He stops.

You literally cry when he pulls away his hand, a smirk growing on his face, “Mig, I- please, I can’t- I can’t, I’m sorryyy,” you plead for his fat cock, which is practically hovering over your aching heat.

He lowers himself to you, his hands gripping onto the softness of your waist. This allows you to feel his length against your pelvic bone, twitching and wet.

“Sorry for what?” He glares down at you, waiting for your reply.

“Sorry for being mean… just wanted to dance with my man, is all,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing his forehead to yours.

“I won’t do it again, I promise. Please, fuck me?” Your eyes wide with innocence and pleas, you push over Miguel’s heart. You play with his chest hair as he scans your body, thinking if he should accept your apology.

“Coño… such a brat. I’ve spoiled you, you know that?” His voice softens, lining himself up with your hips.

“Because you love me!” You baby talk back to him, batting your lashes at him knowing you’re finally gonna get what you wanted.

“I do. Too much.” Is what he breaths out before rooting a hot, tongued kiss. He groans into your mouth when he starts grinding his cock against your folds, with the addition of your hand pulling on his curly locks on the back of his head.

He pulls away, a string of saliva breaking as he looks down to guide his puffy tip to your entrance. He brings his lips to your ear again and as he slides his dick in, he simultaneously grunts in your ear, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Giving you no time to adjust, he pounds your pussy into tomorrow. The room full with your pornographic moans as well as Miguel’s, the lewd squelching, and the bed creaking. If he went any harder, he’d break it.

Miguel has your legs pushed against your chest now, putting you in a panting mess. He bunched up your dress so that your skirt was up to your midriff and the neckline sat right below your bouncing tits. The way his tip meets your spot every time had you seeing stars and yelping high-pitched gibberish. His happy trail and lower belly slapping against your clit was the cherry on top of everything.

After groaning in your ear, Miguel whispers again, “Am I still an old man, Beba? Huh?” His lip curls as he watches you go dumb from his cock.

You didn’t even bother answering him because all you could think about was how good he was filling you.

He slaps your ass and this snaps some sense into you, somewhat bringing your gaze to his. “Answer me, baby.”

Your voice shakes from the rigor of his thrusts, but you still manage a, “N-no, baby… no…” While you were somewhat right, Miguel was still technically older than you, but that didn’t stop him from fucking you like a horny college boy. The man knew how to fuck and make you come.

“That’s right, mama… fuuck…” Miguel lets a couple more groans out, his ability to be so vocal helping the coil in your stomach unfurl.

“Baby, I’m- I’m gonna c- I’m gonna come…” you barely get it out in a whisper.

Miguel slaps your ass again, “louder.”

“I’m gonna come!” You cry out, your climax about to explode, but Miguel feels you clench.

“ay, diablo… you liked that, didn’t you? Squeezing me s’good…” he slaps your ass one more time before you let out a series of ‘yes’, your hips stuttering against his.

Miguel drags out his own high, slowly pumping in and out of you as he groans into your ear, “Mmmfuckkkk mami…”

He pulls out slowly as to not hurt you, his juices mixed with yours, eventually leaking out. After telling you how good you were and placing a loving kiss to your cheek, He grabbed some tissues on the night stand and cleaned you both up.

“Hey, I really am sorry about earlier. I feel bad for how I acted.” You finally catch your breath, speaking sweetly to Miguel who was changing into a clean set of boxers. He had put you in one of his t-shirts that fits oversized and grabbed a pair of panties for you.

Miguel insists on getting you everything and doing everything for you. When he said he spoiled you, he meant it. He took off your dress and dressed you, he wiped your face with toner, got you some water, everything. You were his queen.

“Mamita, please, I should be sorry for not dancing with you.” He coddled you, pulling you to his chest. No bed sheet or pillow could compare to his soft stomach. “Well, still, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” You look up at him from his chest and he looks down at you, his hand rubbing your back underneath your shirt.

He lets out a soft chuckle, “It’s alright, mama. Besides,” he turns over to his side, making you two face each other and he whispers, “I can just fuck the attitude out of you.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder while he lets out a velvety laugh.

Even though the space between y’all is minimal, it is still too far for Miguel’s liking, so he wraps you in his burly arms, your leg instinctively slinking over his waist. His laughter dies down, your own giggling coming to a stop, and he just whispers, “You know I love you, right? So much, it’s crazy.” Which makes you smile like an idiot, so you roll your eyes.

“I love you, too, viejito.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scowl and you laugh.

But his expression melts when you kiss his nose as a quick save. Not enough, Miguel cups your face for a full kiss. It was a less passionate kiss, but a long, loving one, putting the perfect seal to an incredibly romantic and intimate moment.

Want more DadBod!Miguel? Here’s my master list bae!

Tags <3

@reewrite @pigeonmama @fayeofthenightingale

[theshift]

The Deal Part 2 (Reuploaded)

The first week as Lukas was pure exhilaration. For years, Marco had been weighed down by responsibilities—running a business, maintaining a crumbling marriage, and keeping up appearances in the upper-class world. But now, in Lukas’ lean, agile body, Marco felt untethered, like he had shed the chains of his old life. Every movement, every glance in the mirror, reminded him of his newfound freedom. He couldn’t get over how effortlessly Lukas carried himself—how easy it was to slip into a life without strings attached.

Lukas’ job at his office was simple, almost mind-numbingly so, but that suited Marco perfectly. No stress, no high-stakes decisions, just a few hours a day of mundane work. But the real thrill came at night.

Marco found himself drawn to bars, nightlife, and dating apps—anonymously exploring the side of his sexuality he’d buried for so long. He indulged in hookups with men and women alike, basking in the freedom to be someone else. He reveled in the casual, unburdened encounters, the excitement of living without the weight of his old life’s judgment. Every morning he would wake up feeling more like Lukas and less like Marco.

Yet Marco's initial thrill at living in Lukas’ skin had morphed into something more complex. The simplicity of the life he had borrowed was no longer enough. He craved the power and control he had in his real life, but wearing Lukas’ face had given him something different—access to people who didn’t see him as the calculating businessman but as someone unassuming, approachable. It opened doors to the kind of men he had never encountered in his high-stakes corporate world. The tension between them was delicious. Marco had met rugged men in the bar who smelled of sweat, leather, and cigarettes, the kinds of men who didn’t give a damn about luxury but commanded respect in a different way. There was something raw about them that Marco found deeply attractive. These men were real, unrefined, and authentic in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to be in years. Vincent, though, had been the turning point. He was sophisticated, ambitious, and had taken a liking to Lukas—well, to Marco wearing Lukas’ skin.

Vincent had approached Marco at Luka's company's late night casual networking event, drink in hand, eyes scanning the room before landing on Marco-as-Lukas with a smile that was equal parts charm and calculation.

Vincent: "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd slipped away again." His tone was playful, but there was an edge to it, the subtle challenge of a man used to getting what he wanted.

Marco (as Lukas) turned, offering a boyish grin that felt foreign on his face, but fitting for the persona he’d adopted. Vincent was every bit the kind of man Marco used to conquer in business, but tonight, the game was different.

Marco: "You think I'd sneak off without saying goodbye? That’s not my style." His voice was lighter, teasing, playing into the role of the carefree, younger man Vincent thought he was. "Besides, you’re the most interesting thing here. Why would I leave?"

Vincent chuckled, the sound rich and smooth, like the bourbon in his glass. "You flatter me, Lukas. But I’ve seen you watching everything, soaking it in like someone who’s never been in a room like this before." He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to make the conversation feel intimate. "Tell me, what do you really think?"

Marco leaned against the bar, keeping his posture relaxed, easygoing—nothing like the power stance he would’ve taken as Marco. "Oh, you know..." he began, feigning innocence, "it's a lot bigger than what I’m used to. Flashy. Expensive." He paused, locking eyes with Vincent and letting his smile turn just a shade darker. "But it’s not the room that makes the night interesting, is it? It’s the company."

Vincent's eyes gleamed with interest, clearly taken with the charm. He swirled his drink, considering the words. "You’re different from the others, Lukas. Most guys in this town don’t even know what they’re missing, but you... you seem curious. Like you want something more."

Marco shrugged, his expression mischievous. "Maybe I do. Maybe I’m tired of the same old thing. Figured I’d let someone like you show me what else is out there." He let the words hang, perfectly calculated, knowing exactly how Vincent would interpret them.

Vincent took the bait, leaning in, his gaze intense. "I can show you things you’ve never even dreamed of, Lukas." His voice was low, dripping with intent. You’ve got potential—could be so much more than what you are now."

Marco suppressed a smirk, playing into the role of the eager protégé. "You really think so?" His voice softened, feigning vulnerability. He let a brief silence pass, before adding with just the right amount of edge: "I mean, it’s not like I’m completely green, Vincent. I can handle myself. But... I wouldn’t mind someone showing me the ropes."

Vincent’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the game as much as Marco. "I bet you can handle yourself just fine. But a little guidance never hurt anyone." He reached out, his hand resting casually on Marco’s arm. "You’ve got the charm, the looks—everything you need to make it big. Just need to play your cards right. Stick close to me, and you’ll go places."

Marco (as Lukas) tilted his head, the hint of a challenge creeping into his tone. "And what do you get out of it, huh? Guys like you don’t do things out of charity. You’ve got an angle. I can tell."

Vincent chuckled again, clearly amused by Lukas’ feigned boldness. "Oh, I like you even more now. Sharp, aren’t you? Well, let’s just say I enjoy investing in the right people. And you... you're an investment I’m willing to make." He leaned closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. "But only if you’re up for the ride."

Marco let his lips curl into a knowing smirk, the predatory glint of the real man shining through just for a second. He leaned in slightly, their proximity intensifying the moment. "I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, Vincent. You might be biting off more than you can chew."

Vincent’s eyes flashed with excitement, oblivious to the hidden meaning in Marco’s words. He saw a young, hungry man ready to be molded, and that was exactly what Marco wanted. "I like a challenge, Lukas. Don’t let me down."

Marco raised his glass, clinking it lightly against Vincent’s. "Oh, I won’t. But remember, it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for."

As the night deepened, the tension between them thickened, the air filled with promises of secrets and power. Marco, playing the role of Lukas, had Vincent hooked, all while hiding the truth beneath a mask of youth and ambition. It was a dangerous game, but one Marco knew how to play better than anyone. And Vincent, despite his confidence, had no idea he was dealing with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Something darker began to brew inside of Marcos. The more he tasted this freedom, the more he realized he couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back. A voice in the back of his mind whispered, “Why should you?” He ignored it at first, but with each passing day, the temptation to stay in Lukas’ body grew stronger, irresistible.

--

Lukas had crafted a morning routine that had become his sanctuary amid the chaos of Marco’s life. He would rise early, allowing the soft glow of dawn to spill into the room, illuminating the contours of his reflection in the mirror. Each day began with a ritual: a splash of cold water on his face to shake off the remnants of sleep, some light running in the morning, followed by edging session playing with his new borrowed member. Each stroke getting Lukas horny from the sight of seeing Marco's body pleasuring itself. Something he could only have hoped to imagine when he fantasized about being with Marco, but now it was his reality.

As he stood before the mirror, he couldn’t help but admire the features that had been borrowed from Marco—strong jawline, sculpted muscles, and that enchanting beard that seemed to whisper of adventure. He snapped a quick selfie, the camera capturing a glimpse of the man he had momentarily become. He traced his fingers along his cheeks, reveling in the unfamiliar sensation of confidence that washed over him. There was something undeniably attractive about Marco, a magnetic charisma that seeped into Lukas' very being, leaving him both enthralled and envious.

He relished the sound of Marco's voice echoing in his mind—the way it rolled off his tongue, thick with an accent that made even the simplest words feel like poetry. It was a voice that commanded attention, and in those fleeting moments of quiet, Lukas felt a thrill at the thought of embodying such presence. But as the day wore on, that initial allure began to fade, and he was faced with the harsh reality of the life he was now navigating.

Lukas was drowning. Marco’s life was a far cry from the easy-going world he had known. Running a business felt like trying to steer a ship in a storm—meetings, deadlines, pressure mounting with every passing day. The people around Marco were sharp, watching Lukas with keen eyes, expecting him to perform. Every moment was a struggle to keep up, to pretend he knew what Marco knew.

But it was Marco’s family that terrified him the most.

Serena, Marco’s wife, seemed distant, almost cold, though Lukas couldn’t tell if that was how their marriage had always been or if she was starting to suspect something. But it was Marco’s two sons, Ethan and Daniel, who posed the real challenge. They were home for winter break, and Lukas was thrown into the deep end—expected to be their father, to navigate years of inside jokes, shared memories, and father-son dynamics he had no grasp of.

The tension came to a head one evening at dinner. Ethan had been quiet, but Daniel watched him closely, eyes sharp. Then Daniel asked, seemingly innocently, “Dad, remember that fishing trip we took a few summers ago? When we caught that massive bass?”

Lukas felt his stomach drop. His mind raced—he didn’t remember anything about a fishing trip. He scrambled, piecing together bits of information Marco had casually mentioned, but it was like fumbling in the dark.

“Oh, yeah… that was a good one,” Lukas mumbled, trying to sound convincing. He forced a laugh, but Daniel’s eyes didn’t leave him. There was a flicker of doubt in his son’s gaze, a knowing look that made Lukas’ pulse quicken. He had to be careful. One more slip-up, and the illusion would shatter.

That night, Lukas lay in bed, his heart pounding. He couldn’t do this anymore. Marco’s life was suffocating him. He needed out.

The only plus side were at events and high-profile gatherings, Lukas, wearing Marco’s skin, found himself gravitating toward men Marco would have likely brushed off in another life. Among these men was Richard—a sharp, ambitious figure who wielded power like a weapon. Lukas could see it in the way Richard moved through a room, his presence commanding attention and respect. Yet, there was something else about Richard, something that softened behind closed doors.

Richard had been watching Lukas-as-Marco for weeks. His glances lingered just a little too long, and his smile held a certain knowing edge. Lukas, under the pressure of maintaining Marco’s image, had mostly avoided him, understanding the dangerous game that flirting with one of Marco’s powerful business partners could become. But tonight was different. Lukas was tired of carrying the weight of Marco’s responsibilities, and Richard’s eyes were burning into him from across the room.

Lukas decided to play along, just for tonight

As the event wound down, Richard approached, his gaze piercing through the crowd. He sidled up next to Lukas, drink in hand, and a cigar in his mouth, his tone smooth and suggestive. "Marco, you’ve been keeping your distance lately. Starting to think you’re avoiding me." His smile was coy, eyes glinting with challenge.

Lukas turned, letting the faintest smirk play on his lips. "Avoiding you, Richard? Now, why would I do that?" He sipped his drink leisurely, tilting his head just enough to meet Richard’s gaze head-on, the flicker of mischief evident.

"You tell me." Richard’s voice lowered, laced with innuendo. "You’ve been...different lately. Bolder, I’d say. I like it."

Lukas let the compliment hang between them for a moment before responding, his voice casual but dripping with flirtation. "I’ve found there are some advantages to stepping out of the box. Keeps things... interesting." His eyes danced with amusement as he leaned a little closer, just enough for Richard to catch the subtle shift in energy.

Richard raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Is that so? Well, I’ve always appreciated a man who knows how to keep things interesting. But you—" He gestured with his glass, "—you’ve been a bit of a mystery lately. And I do love a good mystery."

Lukas chuckled, a soft, knowing sound. "A mystery? Me? I thought I was an open book, Richard. What you see is what you get." The lie tasted delicious on his tongue. He knew he was playing with fire, but for the first time in weeks, it felt good—liberating, even.

Richard’s gaze sharpened, his smirk deepening. "Oh, Marco, you and I both know that’s far from the truth. There’s always more beneath the surface with you. And I like uncovering secrets." He leaned in, his breath warm as he added, "What’s changed? What’s made you loosen up all of a sudden?"

Lukas shrugged, pretending to be thoughtful. "Maybe I’ve just learned to stop taking things so seriously. Life’s too short for all that, don’t you think?" He let his fingers brush the edge of Richard’s sleeve, a calculated move that sent a silent message.

Richard’s eyes flicked down to the touch, a spark of something darker flashing in them. "I couldn’t agree more," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But something tells me you’ve got more on your mind than just living in the moment."

Lukas smiled, all charm and mystery. "Perhaps," he said, leaning back casually, "but some things are better left unsaid. Keeps people guessing."

Richard chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the game. "You’re good, Marco. Very good. But don’t think I won’t find out what you’re really after."

Lukas raised his glass, his eyes locking with Richard’s. "I wouldn’t dream of stopping you."

The tension between them simmered, charged and electric. Lukas could feel the thrill of the game pulsing in his veins, the subtle dance of power and attraction intoxicating. For a moment, he forgot he was in Marco’s skin, forgot the risks—this was his release, his way of letting off steam from the crushing pressure of being someone else. It was exhilarating.

But Richard, ever the predator, wasn’t one to let his prey slip away so easily. "You know," Richard said, his voice dropping an octave, "I’ve always had a soft spot for men who keep me on my toes. It’s rare to find someone who can play at my level."

Lukas leaned in, his voice low and teasing. "Maybe you’ve just been playing with the wrong people, Richard. Some of us are just waiting for the right moment to strike."

Richard’s eyes gleamed with amusement, but beneath it was something hungrier. "Is that a challenge, Marco?"

Lukas let a slow, deliberate smile spread across his face. "It’s whatever you want it to be."

Richard paused, studying Lukas with a new intensity. "Careful, Marco," he warned, though his tone was laced with approval. "Play too hard, and you might find yourself in over your head."

Lukas tilted his head, unfazed. "I think I’ll take my chances."

The air between them crackled with the unspoken tension, both men pushing and pulling in a game neither wanted to lose. For Lukas, this was his outlet, a moment to let go of the suffocating role of Marco and indulge in something riskier, more thrilling. But Richard was dangerous. One wrong step, and Lukas could unravel everything.

Still, as the night continued, Lukas couldn’t help but savor the adrenaline coursing through him. For now, he was winning the game, and that was enough.

--

After a month of silence, the day came when Lukas and Marco were supposed to swap back. Lukas arrived at Marco’s house, jittery with anticipation. He was desperate to shed this life, and to return to his own body. Marco, in Lukas’ body, seemed eerily calm. Too calm.

They went upstairs, the house quiet except for the ticking of the clock. As Lukas reached to peel off Marco’s skin, a wave of relief washed over him—but it didn’t last. No matter how hard he tried, the suit wouldn’t budge. Panic surged through him.

"Marco, it’s not coming off," Lukas’ voice wavered, his hands trembling as he tugged at the skin suit.

Marco, still wearing Lukas' body, stood back, watching him with an unsettling calmness. "Try again," he said, his tone too casual.

Lukas pulled harder, but it was useless. The suit had fused with him, like a second skin. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as the realization dawned on him. He turned to Marco, eyes wide with fear.

“What the hell is happening?”

Marco sighed, finally stepping forward, his expression hardening. "I didn’t want it to come to this, Lukas. But there’s something I didn’t tell you."

Lukas felt the world tilting. "What do you mean?"

"I had the ability to lock the suits. From the moment we swapped, I made sure we couldn’t undo it unless I wanted to."

Lukas’ breath hitched. His blood ran cold as Marco’s words sank in. "You—what?" he stammered, his voice rising. "Unlock it. Now."

Marco shook his head slowly. "No, Lukas. I’m not going back."

Lukas’ legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the bed. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the betrayal. "You planned this the whole time… You never wanted to switch back."

Marco laughed, shaking his head. “You wanted this, remember? You wanted to know what it felt like to be me. Don't lie and admit that you enjoy being me And I... well, I got a little attached to being you.”

Lukas lunged forward, grabbing Marco by the collar. The strangeness of seeing his own face reacting with surprise only fueled his rage. “You don’t get to just decide this!” Lukas shouted, his grip tightening.

But Marco only smirked, calm and collected. “What are you going to do, Lukas? Beat yourself up?”

Lukas faltered for a moment, realizing the futility of his aggression. 

Marco’s gaze darkened, his calm facade finally breaking. "I can’t go back. You don’t understand. My life—it’s a cage. And this, being you, it’s the only freedom I’ve felt in years." He stepped closer, towering over Lukas. "You’ll get used to it. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out," Marco said coldly.

Lukas felt his world spin. Could he really let this happen? Marco, living his life indefinitely, while he remained trapped in Marco’s skin, playing the role of someone he wasn’t?

“I’ll... I’ll tell Serena,” Lukas stammered, grasping at straws. “I’ll tell everyone what you did.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed, his grin fading. “You think they’ll believe you? I’m you now. You look like me. You sound like me. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

The reality hit Lukas like a punch to the gut. Marco was right. He was trapped in Marco’s body, and no one would believe him if he tried to tell them the truth. Marco had all the power now, and Lukas was helpless to stop him.

“You’re stuck, Lukas,” Marco said softly, his tone almost pitying. “We both are, in a way. But we can make the best of it. You keep living my life, I keep living yours, and maybe—just maybe—we both come out better for it.”

--

Had to continue the story since so many of you requested. Should I do part 3? Let me know.  - The Shift

[reasonsforhope]

"A young entrepreneur is using 3D printers to create cheap school campuses in rural Madagascar.

It takes just $40,000 and 18 hours to build a “Thinking Hut,” as they’re called, and founder of the project Maggie Grout is aiming to get the cost even lower before handing the reins over to local professionals.

GNN previously reported on Maggie Grout’s idea in 2021 during the pandemic. It was then that she and a San Francisco architect came up with the idea of making them honeycomb-shaped so that additional modules could be added seamlessly.

And indeed, the first completed campus is called the “Honeycomb.”

Madagascar is one of the most challenging places in Africa to develop, but also the most opportune owing to a lack of any armed conflicts and a government welcoming of foreign workers.

But extreme poverty, lack of infrastructure, terrible roads, and a delicate, priceless natural ecosystem all pose challenges to anyone seeking to implement large-scale development projects.

Instead, Grout brought her 3D printers over in a single shipping container and has now printed a school in the town of Fianarantsoa, a city in south-central Madagascar with 200,000 people.

“From that first project, I really learned how to streamline the logistics,” Grout told Fast Company. “I learned how to put together the supply chain when there’s not a lot of locally available materials. And then I learned how to work in harmony with the local people.”

Local people are the key—lack of institutional presence in rural areas means that almost any economic activity has a foundation built on years of trust between community individuals. When foreigners come in, building trust is often the biggest challenge to getting a project off the ground in Madagascar.

However, from the onset, Grout said she wanted to rely on the locals as much as possible. During the first project, she learned how to best manage a team of cross-cultural partners. She used local people to install traditional windows and doors, and worked with the Madagascar Ministry of Education to bring in teachers.

“We do think through the holistic collateral impacts of what we’re doing,” Grout says. “We’re really just aiming to be a stepping stone for [the community] to be successful on their own… We don’t want them to be dependent on us.”

Her long-term goal is to establish Thinking Huts in many different countries."

-via Good News Network, June 9, 2023. Video via 60 Second Docs, July 18, 2022

Note: A bit older but still good - and still ongoing! This year they started a formal partnership with the Madagascar Ministry of Education and are working on a new campus, The Honeycomb Project.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desire Ch 8

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, rougher sex (ish), minor breeding kink. ngl it almost feels like a bit of a filler chapter, but it reunites what bits i had combined previously to make full chapters. Also sometimes filler is needed, I needed something else in there to break things up and that's why i kept staring at the word doc having NO clue what i wanted to do. SO, hopefully it doesn't take two weeks til the next update. lol. thank you for reading, extra bonus love to everyone who comments, sends asks and reblogs! you're the best!

After a lavish breakfast of stuffed French toast, all the delicious sides you could ask for and the best tasting coffee you’d had in ages you figured you should take advantage of the fancy shower once more. You took your time, scrubbing your skin with exfoliant before washing with a rose scented body wash and combing through your hair with a leave in conditioner. Wrapping yourself in one of the fuzzy robes you added in some hair treatment, doing your best job of braiding your still damp locks to air dry while sipping on a second cup of coffee. Finally it was check out time so you collected your things and headed downstairs, the Sunday morning air was the perfect balance of crisp while warm, the breeze floating through the streets spreading the sense of summer on the way.

You weren’t totally surprised when you found a bouquet of flowers on your front step, a note from Emily in the florists font scrawled across the front. Scooping it up you took it inside, kicking off your shoes and dropping your purse to the kitchen island before unwrapping the flowers. Picking a vase from the cabinet you filled it with some water and placed the bouquet inside, placing them on the coffee table to display. You dug through your bag for your phone, finally finding it and opening the text chain with Emily.

‘The flowers are gorgeous, thank you.’

‘You’re such a good girl I figured you deserved a little treat.’

‘It’s much appreciated.’

‘Speaking of… your upcoming events, do you need anything for them?’

‘I’m picking up a couple of dresses from alterations this week, haven’t looked through my accessories though.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Thank you. Enjoy New York, eat a bagel or a slice of pizza for me.’

‘Oh now that’s just a guarantee’

You chuckled as you locked your phone, sliding it back onto the island before you turned back to the fridge, eyes flicking through what was left and still usable for you to meal prep a bit for the upcoming week.

Said upcoming week flew by faster than you’d expected, likely due to all of the added on extra tasks you had to complete by six p.m. on Friday. Even with the slew of assistants strewn through Heather’s team, everything had to be perfect, double or triple checked, approved by Heather or yourself before appointments were confirmed, meetings were booked, or things were publicized or printed. You often wondered if it was actually financially worth having your own personal assistant considering the amount of things you either did yourself or had to be redone. (Not that it really mattered to you, they weren’t on your payroll).

Friday’s banquet wasn’t much for you to worry about, just made sure you were dressed the part and were ready when the car rolled up to your condo. Dinner was over and cocktails were in full swing, time for schmoozing, networking and making sure that everyone went home remembering the Dunbar name and philosophy. You’d stepped outside briefly after dinner, chatting with a congressman while he had a cigar and gave you the opportunity to stretch your legs. Walking back inside you found a high top table to settle against, pulling out your work phone to read a handful of emails.

“You know, you are allowed to put that thing away, right?” Heather teased, sliding a glass of Cristal across the table to you and you rolled your eyes, locking the device.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew I was confirming some very affluent last minute sponsors for tomorrow.” You took a sip of the champagne, thinking back to your conversation on the terrace “and you’re welcome, Blythe will be voting in favour next week.”

“Good girl.” She grinned, clinking her glass with yours before her eyes drifted to the bracelet around your wrist. Her gaze lingered for a moment then moved upward and she reached out, lifting your earring with a curled finger before her eyes dropped to the gem resting on the swell of your chest. “Matching set?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded over a sip of your drink.

“Haven’t seen it before.”

“It’s new.” You replied, a small smirk on the corner of your mouth.

“Looks expensive.”

“If you’re trying to suggest it’s out of my budget, you’d be correct.”

“It’s nice to see Emily has good taste.”

“Among other things.” There was a gleam in your eye that Heather was eager to find out more about, a smirk on her lips as she took another sip of her drink.

“Glad to hear.” Was all she had time to reply with when another body sauntered up to your table.

“Not surprised to see you two here.” Tony greeted with a wide smile, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek before he reached out a hand, “Ms. Dunbar.”

“You know, I am surprised to see you here.”

“Drew the short straw.” He shrugged, “director had something come up, Gibbs would rather be caught dead than at one of these things and McGee doesn’t know his Dolce from American Eagle.”

“What about that other Agent you have right now, the little feisty one?” Heather asked, sly smile on her lips as Tony chuckled, scratching at the back of his neck in an attempt to distract from the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Ziva? These aren’t really her style; she wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I mean you could’ve at least brought her as a date, shown her the ropes so she knows for next time.” You offered, nudging at his shoulder and he let out another little huff.

“Oh, no, I mean, she’d hate that. She’d spend half the night flirting her way through the crowd and the other half having to convince everyone we weren’t actually together.”

“So she’s available?” Heather asked with a teasing smirk, pulling an awkward laugh from Tony.

“I— uh, well…” He stuttered, “maybe a little too… controlling… to be your style.” He suddenly leant against the table with his elbow, “but you know McGee does have a sister…”

“Do tell.” Heather grinned over the rim of her glass, pulling an eye roll from you.

“No!” You punched Tony’s arm before swatting in Heather’s direction. “Your dance card is already full,” you turned to Tony, “and she is way too young.”

“From what I heard, that’s how she likes it.” He muttered and you rolled your eyes as Heather chuckled.

“Age is just a number.”

“She graduated high school last year. That puts her younger than your kids.” You retorted, watching the way Heather’s nose crinkled before she laughed, happy to have found some amount of amusement from a night like tonight.

She let out a soft sigh as her eyes fixated on something across the room, “there’s Conway, looks like my time is now.” She turned back to you, “Durant may need some more convincing and I haven’t seen Sharp yet.”

“Please, all I need to do is bat my eyelashes in Jackie’s general direction and she’ll do whatever I want.”

“That’s why I keep you around.” With a smile and a nod to DiNozzo, she scooped up her champagne flute and made her way across the ballroom.

“Was… she serious?” He asked hesitantly and you laughed.

“No!” You took another gulp of your drink, “besides, like I said, her schedule’s full, she can’t take on more right now.”

“Speaking of schedules.” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you, “I’m surprised to see you here on a weekend, thought those were for secret romps and exchanges of sugar.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder just how suave of a man you could be if you just let your brain think things through before they came out of your mouth.”

“Stop.” He groaned, leaning against the table as he turned to you, “or are you just saving your hot date for tomorrow night?”

“This week didn’t line up, I’ve got that fundraiser all weekend, which, you should bring your team to make it a little family outing.”

“I’ll think about it.” He took a swig of his beer, “really puts a wrench in your plans then, I can already tell you’re getting grumpy.”

“Anthony…” you warned, “we met up last weekend. It was kind of last minute but we made use of the time we had.”

“So no hot dates during the week?”

“Not usually, but we’re both busy, plus she was in New York all week at conferences.”

“A rich woman, who travels for work,” he began to tick them off on his fingers, “outranks NCIS, has significant style tastes, works full time during the week and sometimes weekends… are you sure you aren’t dating a politician.”

“I—” you paused, head tilting for a second before you nodded, “yes. Government employed but not by the White House.”

“Isn’t everyone technically government employed?”

“And we’re not dating, I thought you of all people would understand the stipulations of a financial beneficiary pairing.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” He asked, eyes gleaming.

“She buys me nice things, pays for my hair or nail appointments, adds to my jewellery collection, makes sure my fridge is always full, sends fresh flowers weekly.” You spotted one of the people Heather wanted you to talk to on the other side of the room and drained your drink, “and in return I meet up with her at high end hotels on the weekends and let her fuck my brains out.”

Even though Tony had been expecting it, your brashness still left him choking on his beer as you smirked at him, picking up your empty glass to grab a refill from the bar and one for Durant.

**

Seven days later and fucking your brains out was exactly what Emily was doing.

It had been less than an hour and if she’d asked you about dinner, you wouldn’t have been able to remember a single thing. All you could think about was the feeling of her buried inside you, hitting deeper with each powerful thrust of her hips. Your hands clawed at the bedspread, eyes scrunched shut as your cunt pulsed around the toy, moans louder with each time she sunk into you. Her hands tightly gripped your hips, hard enough you were sure there would be fingerprint shaped bruises come morning. You let out a little whimper, your nipples rubbing against the duvet every time she fucked into you, the multiple sensations driving you absolutely wild.

“More…” you groaned out, a gasp leaving your lips when she spanked you.

“God you really do like it rough, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm.” You managed to nod, fire shooting through your body, your clit throbbing as you ground it down onto the bed.

“Gonna need you to come soon princess.” She dropped over your body, husking into your ear while one hand tangled into your hair, yanking at the roots and you let out a blissful cry. Her mouth latched onto your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin as her free had wound around your middle, fingers pinching at your clit.

“Fuck!” You cried out, “oh fuu-cck. Don’t stop!”

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, holding back any louder moans, whimpers and whines bouncing off the walls along with the wet sounds coming from your pussy. Your juices coated Emily’s cock, smearing across both of your thighs, more than enough for her to gather up as she rubbed your clit. She could feel you trembling in her arms, your hips bucking back against hers as you started to lose control.

“That’s it baby, you’re so close. Come for me.” She nipped at your earlobe, her breath hot on your skin right as she pressed harder on your clit and you were coming undone in her arms, a shaky cry coming from deep in your throat.

“Oh fuck…” you muttered, collapsing down onto the bed while she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her hips slowing just a hint.

“So good for me.” She panted, “where do you want my cum? In that pretty mouth? Hmm? Or maybe on this gorgeous ass?” A breathy gasp left your lips when she spanked you again and you moaned, pussy fluttering around her cock as you were coming up on a second orgasm.

“Inside me!” You whined, “please!”

“She likes it rough and she’s dirty?” Emily chuckled, “we’ve got a lot more to explore.”

She watched as your body shivered, thighs clenching together and your hands bunched tightly into fists as your second peak washed over you and then she let out a groan, stilling with her hips right against yours. Her hand quickly found the base of the toy, squeezing hard and you let out a satisfied moan at the feeling of her spilling deep inside you. Emily’s hand soothed up and down your back, watching as you caught your breath before she pulled the toy almost all of the way out of your pussy. She let out a low swear at the sight of it coated in a mixture of your cum and the lube before slowly nudging it back into you, fucking her cum deeper into your drenched cunt. You trembled again, a sheen of goosebumps breaking out on your skin and she finally pulled out of you, skilfully ridding herself of the strap to be dealt with later.

“Christ…” you muttered, your head burying itself into the pillows and Emily let out a small chuckle as she dropped down onto the bed beside you.

“Seems like you’re a little fucked senseless?” She offered and you let out a small laugh, your eyes barely blinking open to look over at her.

“Not to deflate your ego,” you let out a large yawn, “because you certainly did, but I am also just completely fucking wiped. I barely slept all week. Between Heather’s bill proposals and the upcoming endorsements I’ve been working twenty hour days.” Emily snuck under the blankets, an arm draping over the top of the pillows and you practically nuzzled into her side, yawning again as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey!” She swatted at your side, “none of that, you need to use the bathroom.”

“C’mon…” you whined, burrowing yourself deeper into the blankets and Emily tsk’d at you, pinching your chin until you opened your eyes.

“If you want me to come inside you again you’re going to use the bathroom missy.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, shivering as you pushed back the blankets and padded to the en-suite, much to Emily’s satisfaction. You returned a few minutes later, make up wiped from your face and teeth brushed, climbing back into the bed as you let out another yawn, curling around Emily’s side. “Are you staying?”

She shrugged, “got nowhere else to be. You mind if I keep the tv on?”

“Not at all. I’ll probably be dead to the world anyways.”

She chuckled softly, feeling you relax against her body as she started to flick through the channels. It wasn’t that late and while her week had been long it clearly hadn’t been as taxing as yours was. You were asleep within minutes, softly snoring against her and she made a mental note to start sending you good night texts in an attempt to make sure you were getting enough rest.

__________________

@daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny

[intelisync]

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[awooghan]

[11:41 pm] ✧.* l.mh

➳ PAIRING: lee know x gn!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, slice of life, silent/mutual pining, friends to (implied) lovers

➳ WARNINGS: none, just tooth-rotting fluff and simp!lino :]

➳ WORD COUNT: 1k exactly which is a bit long for a timestamp but are we surprised

➳ SUMMARY: you and minho are out with your friends one night. minho notices you won't leave his side.

➳ NOTES: wow i actually completed a fic and it wasn't for christmas LOL hope you enjoy <3 also i know the banner is lee know in a puffy coat but this is supposed to be a summer night timestamp and this was the closest photo i could find 😭 (and as always ty @ujimoo for helping me make a banner)

➳ SONG REC: headliner (seventeen)

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld @k-labels

“Ah, Y/N…” Minho says, lightly nudging you. “When are you gonna get off me?”

His voice, flat but gentle, cuts through the air around you, making the crickets chirping nearby sound like a mere pin drop. He doesn’t mean to sound rude, though his tone alone would have raised the eyebrows of strangers passing by. Luckily, there aren’t many people around to spare him weird glances this late at night.

It’s a genuine question, though. Instead of stomping around on the playground down the slope with your friends, you have effectively trapped Minho next to you atop a nearby hill. Your legs are outstretched before you, your shoes innocently tapping against his as you rock your feet side to side. Your arm sits comfortably next to his, and your head rests on his shoulder. He’s all but stuck now, like sap on a maple tree in January, and if you don’t move soon, he’ll be doomed to spend the rest of the night here in the grass.

He feels you shrug next to him.

“Hmm?” Minho hums. His eyes widen just slightly as you scoot closer. Your hand brushes against his, and your fingers lazily drum a pattern into the warm earth below you. He tries to ignore this and pokes you repeatedly in the arm.

“Come onnnn…” he says. “When are you gonna get up?”

Your quiet “I dunno” in response fills his ears.

“What do you meeeaaann, ‘I dunno’?” He makes a show of rolling his eyes, then clicks his tongue. “Why don’t you wanna get up, hmm?”

A scream echoes through the park and makes Minho look up for a moment. Changbin’s short figure flies through the air, his arms flailing. The swing behind him rocks erratically as he falls onto the mulch with a thud. Wooyoung points and cackles loudly from the swing next to him, but quickly lets out a shriek of his own and grips onto the metal chains. Further right, Jungwoo and Chaeryeong’s silhouettes chase each other around on the main playground equipment. Lampposts at the edge of the playground cast a dim yellow glow across the space, like the ones in retro film recordings. Minho can imagine the little “PLAY” icon floating at the top left of the scene, blinking periodically several feet above the dark blue awning.

He feels a light tap against his shoe again.

“Owww!” Minho feigns a cry. He picks up his feet and swipes them away from you in one swift move, the corners of his lips pulling down in an exaggerated pout. “Y/N, that hurt~ how dare you…” 

Looking back at you, you’re mindlessly clicking your feet against each other, and you’re still all cuddled up on his shoulder. His heart thumps a little louder in his chest when you shove your head closer to him.

“Yah, Y/N…”

“Hmm...” Your soft hum comes out more as a statement than a reply.

You flutter your eyes closed, your lashes gently batting against your skin. He heaves out a sigh, and the warm breeze tickles his cheeks with a light blush. It seems to have more mercy on you, though, as it delicately brushes your stray hairs away from your forehead, framing your face perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The crickets blend into the quiet air as he takes in the sight.

“Hey…” Minho tries one more time. He tilts his head slightly as he gazes at you. “Why don’t you get up? Our friends are waiting.”

The breeze picks up for just a moment, making you scrunch up your nose. Minho gestures down the hill. It’s getting more difficult to look away from you. “See?” he continues. “Playground's right over there. ‘S loads more fun than I am.”

Another shriek rings out from the playground area. Chaeryeong lies in an awkward position at the bottom of the slide. The wind picks up again at the same time, whistling against Minho’s ears right as Chaeryeong yells something at Jungwoo. All he can make out is another scream as Jungwoo tumbles down the slide and knocks Chaeryeong onto the gravel.

But a light tap sings louder to Minho than all of it.

Looking back at you, his eyes trace down, stopping where your fingers meet his arm. As light as a hummingbird’s wing beat, your fingers tap across his forearm and leave a path of spreading warmth in their wake. They seem to float in the air as they skip further down. Your touch, so faint and gentle, nearly lulls him to sleep. He lets his eyes fall shut.

It’s like Minho is at the beach for a moment, and your fingers brushing against his skin are the ocean waves calmly swaying over his feet. Then, he feels a sudden blast as a tidal wave crashes over him, its currents pulling him under and leaving him unable to breathe. His eyes snap open and right toward the spot where your hand has come to a gentle rest over the top of his own.

Minho’s eyes meet your soft ones. Your head is still comfortably nestled on his shoulder, and your cheeks seem to glow in the dark when you smile at him. For a moment, perhaps a moment too long, time comes to a still as he takes you in, watching you slowly melt into his side. You look so at peace, and he dare not disturb you, despite his urge to spring up and run down the hill and scream at Changbin. Thankfully, he’s too engrossed in the feeling of your hand on top of his to even try. He thanks his lucky stars once more that you’re also looking down at your hands, so you can’t notice the blood rushing to the tips of his ears.

Slowly, he spreads his fingers and gently threads them with yours. He glances at you, then looks down at his lap, a shy smile finally forming on his lips.

“Ah…” he says softly. “ Our friends can wait a little.”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Look the other way

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The rise of Gimrak the liberator, or “Gimrak the Bloodied” depending on who you speak to, was an inevitable outcome for his people.  

From humble beginnings as a slave, Gimrak would seek retribution against his oppressors. Not just his slave masters and beaters, but against the society that had allowed such evil to not only flourish, but thrive. Over the course of ten years Gimrak worked in the various deepest and darkest mines of his homeworld all the while creating an elaborate network of supporters and followers. Every mine he was transferred to he would leave behind an ever growing cell of supporters.

By the end of his eleventh year Gimrak had finally amassed enough of a following that he launched an open insurrection across every slave mining complex on the planet. Untold millions of slave laborers battering themselves against their beaters until their guns ran try and their shock batons went cold.

The guards and foremen were the first ones to die. Ripped to shreds by the frenzy of revenge. Some tried to flee to the surface and collapse the entire mine behind them. Many failed in their flight but some did make it and the entrances were sealed under mountains of stone. Yet their measure of safety was short lived, as Gimrak had accounted for this and had secret tunnels, miles long at times, dug between the different mines; and like a flood of rushing water the slaves simply poured through these secret tunnels and breached the surface.

From there the surface of the planet became a bloodbath of untold scale.

No one above ground was innocent. No one who had allowed their fellows to dwell beneath the soil for generations could claim ignorance to the horrors they had played a part in.

With righteous retribution in their eyes entire cities were put to the torch by the slaves and its citizens hung from every light post, building corner, and tree. The body count reached into the millions before the wider galaxy intervened.

Peacekeeping forces were dispatched by the Galactic Council and put a stop to the violence. They did not recognize the slaves as rising against their oppressors, but more as a violent mob enacting their own personal vendettas.

The slaves had been able to rise up against their oppressors, but they were not capable of matching the technological superiority of the peacekeepers. Thousands died at their hands before Gimrak came forward and surrendered himself.

Bound in chains of darkened steel, he was dragged before the galactic council. There he was treated more like a war criminal than a liberator by the council who cut him off at every chance they could. They further humiliated Gimrak by broadcasting his hearing universe wide as they berated the leader into insignificance.  

When it was humanities turn to ask questions of Gimrak he had expected much of the same but was surprised when for the first time he was asked why he had slaughtered so man. The other councilors cut in saying that the reasons why were irrelevant, yet the human insisted to hear why.

Gimrak retorted that they should already know why since they had dispatched peacekeepers. The human admitted that no fact finding mission had been dispatched prior given the dire need of the request for aide.

 Recounting his story, Gimrak saved no detail of his torture in the mines to the day he led his people to a new future. While the other councilors rolled their eyes with disinterest, the human councilor appeared to be following along with every horrific detail. When Gimrak finished he expected to be dismissed and sentenced to a life in prison at best, and a short death penalty at worst. Instead, the human presented a third option.

“After hearing your story, I can’t help but feel that this is an internal matter.”

Gimrak’s eyes went wide as the other councilors turned to shout their objections. The human held up their hand and continued their sentiment.

“Per the regulations of the Galactic Council, we may only intervene in matters of an external nature. Matters in which can damage galactic relations at large or risk the extermination of an entire species.’

“Exactly!” a Binar councilor interjected. “This is extermination plain and simple.”

“On the contrary,” the human countered, “this is a genocide being carried out by a people against their own people; with no external factors at play.”

The look of shock at the human’s words was shared by the entire council and Gimrak. “Are you saying the council should turn a blind eye to such slaughter?” the Binar demanded.

“You did not seem to mind when you looked the other way when the Binar’s forcefully relocated one of your colonies in favor of corporate interests.” The human countered. The Binar flushed red but kept silent as the human turned to another councilor. “Or when the Mintarks decided they needed to carry out purges within their own government to root out corruption with no oversight.”

Now berated into silence the human returned their attention to Gimrak.

“We would of course need certain agreements before we could withdraw our forces.”

“What sort of agreements?” Gimrak remarked as he looked at the human with a flicker of hope.

“First, the bloodshed must be limited within your home system. If the violence continued outside of the borders of your home system it would be regarded as a galactic matter.”

“Second, moving forward a system of trials would need to be held in which proof, either physical or by testimony, of an individual’s involvement before being executed.”

“Finally, any persons not of your species currently in your home system must not be targeted.”

Gimrak had never met a human before yet he could feel something lurking underneath the humans words. While he did not give an open endorsement of the uprisings actions, he had not denounced them either. In fact, through his diplomatic linguistics he had actually given Gimark the means to continue with his people’s liberation free from the interference from outside powers.

“If my people met your terms,” Gimrak spoke slowly, “then you would leave us alone?”

“If all of these terms were met, then this matter would indeed be an internal matter and outside the purview of this council’s jurisdiction. Do we have an understanding?”

It was almost as if the human had wanted him to continue with his retribution, Gimrak thought to himself.

Bowing slightly to the human, Gimrak acknowledge the terms.

Within the hour he was escorted back to the shuttle by the human councilor to return to his followers and inform them of the deliberations. Before he entered the shuttle he turned to the human and asked the only question left to him.

“Why?”

The human crossed their arms behind their back and looked off into the horizon. A wall of soft orange light cascaded over the horizon as the sun slowly set and the encroaching night crept closer.

“When evil presents itself so proudly and unashamed, its decimation must be swift and remorseless lest it spread its vile rot to us all.”

Gimrak took stock of the human’s words. “And how do you know that I am not this evil you wish to destroy?”

Turning back the human shrugged sheepishly. “Then we at least know where to find you, and what to put to the torch.”

With the meaning understood, Gimrak nodded to the human and turned to enter the shuttle; the doors closing slowly behind him as it rose once more into the sky.

In the coming months the bloodshed did not cease, but the savagery and directionless anger had been brought under control. The peace keeping forces withdrew to outside the home system’s borders while the vengeance of the former slaves played out. Some of the higher nobles were able to flee outside of the system, but many more never made it to off world; their bodies rotting in the darkened mines they once ruled over.

[doliacuddles]

HEAVEN'S CHAINS.

𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖥𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❝𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅. 𝖳𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋.❞

Upon learning that you are a fallen angel, Yandere! Alastor would feel an even more intense attraction towards you. From the moment you set foot in hell, he observes you with fascination, finding in your presence a intoxicating blend of innocence and sin.

Despite your constant desire to return to heaven, Yandere! Alastor would go to great lengths to convince you to stay by his side in the underworld. He would surround you with his unsettling charisma and sinister charm, always wearing a smile as he subtly manipulates you to remain.

Yandere! Alastor would consider your wings as an invaluable treasure, a symbol of your divinity and purity. However, in his twisted mind, he would also see those wings as a threat to his possession of you. If you ever mention the idea of returning to heaven, he might go to the extreme of considering tearing your wings off to ensure that you never escape from his side.

As time passes, Yandere! Alastor becomes increasingly possessive of you, jealous of any attention you receive from other inhabitants of hell or even other fallen angels. He would do everything in his power to maintain his status as the only important person in your life, using his twisted wit to eliminate any potential competition.

Despite his twisted nature and controlling attitudes, Yandere! Alastor would also show you a side of care and protection. He would surround you with his presence, always alert to any danger that might threaten you, willing to use his skills to keep you safe, even if it means keeping your freedom restricted by his side.

Yandere! Alastor, obsessed with protecting you, would monitor every move you make in the underworld. He would use his network of contacts and cunning to stay informed about your activities, ensuring that you are always under his watchful gaze.

As time passes, Yandere! Alastor would find pleasure in your submission to him. He would relish in your emotional dependence and delight in your devotion to him, further feeding his ego and need for control.

Despite his apparent dominance over you, Yandere! Alastor would also feel profound insecurity. He would constantly fear that you might grow tired of his presence and decide to leave him, leading him to take desperate measures to keep you by his side, even if it means resorting to drastic methods.

In his obsession with you, Yandere! Alastor would develop an aversion towards any celestial entity that attempts to reclaim you back to heaven. He would see other angels as rivals for your love and would be willing to confront them to protect what he considers his own.

Despite all the shadows surrounding his personality, Yandere! Alastor would also experience moments of tenderness towards you. In his quieter moments, he would gently cradle you in his arms, whispering words of affection as he promises that he will never let you go, no matter the circumstances.

Amidst the bustling of the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie, the kind-hearted and enterprising owner, calls for a meeting in the main hall. The vibrant walls resonate with words of hope and redemption as she passionately speaks about the hotel's purpose: rehabilitating sinners and sending them to heaven.

Meanwhile, from the shadows, Alastor watches attentively. His eyes gleam with a dangerous sparkle as he sees the conversation revolving around you, the fallen angel who has been captivating his attention since you set foot in the underworld.

As he listens to Charlie's words about your redemption, a wave of anger begins to swell in Alastor's heart. The idea of you leaving his side, of being redeemed and taken back to heaven, is unbearable to him. You are his, a precious piece in his twisted game, and he will not allow anyone to snatch you away.

With a threatening whisper in your ears, Alastor takes your hand and silently leads you through the hotel corridors. His eyes shine with manic intensity as he gazes at you, his smile sharp as a knife as he guides you to his room.

Once inside, Alastor locks you in his dark sanctuary, securing the doors with an ominous click. His presence fills the room, enveloping you in an intoxicating blend of attraction and danger. He looks at you with a mixture of possession and twisted tenderness, promising you that he will never let you go, while the sinister whisper of his words makes it clear that freedom is out of reach as long as you are under his obsessive gaze.

"I will not allow anything or anyone to take you away from me, my dear angel. You are mine, and so it shall be for all eternity."

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[newsfromstolenland]

Atlantic Canada's largest newspaper chain is now officially owned by Toronto-based Postmedia Network Inc.

On Monday, Postmedia confirmed the closing of its $1-million purchase of SaltWire Network Inc. and the Halifax Herald Ltd. in a short statement on its website. The sale was approved by a Nova Scotia Supreme Court judge on Aug. 8.

Andrew MacLeod, Postmedia's president and CEO, said his company is "delighted" to welcome the new media properties, saying the sale "preserves their vital role within the community."

Full article

Let's explore why this is a very bad thing.

Postmedia, the company that just bought a chain of over two dozen Atlantic canada newspapers, is known for many things- none of them good.

This is an incomplete list of harmful things that Postmedia and its executives have done/are known for:

Right-wing politics. "The National Post was founded in 1998 by Conrad Black, who has connections to conservative politics and sat as a Conservative Party member of the United Kingdom's House of Lords. The Post has always been aligned with the right side of the political spectrum. ..."Just in the past couple of years, Postmedia has issued an edict stating that they should move even farther to the right, so they're very reliably conservative," said [Media journalist Marc] Edge. "In fact, [they] endorse Conservative candidates often over the objections of their local editors.""

Union busting. "They employed a mix of cajoling (such as with buyouts and raises), entreaties to preserve the paper’s uniquely collegial newsroom culture, office-wide memos decrying the havoc a union would wreak, and, according to CWA Canada President Martin O’Hanlon, one-on-one meetings between staff and management."

Monopolization of canadian news media. "Postmedia Network’s purchase of Saltwire Network will extend its grip from coast to coast, as it already dominates Western Canada with eight of the nine largest dailies in the three westernmost provinces. This purchase will give Postmedia the largest dailies in Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland to go along with the largest in New Brunswick, which it acquired from the Irving Oil family two years ago."

Cuts to pensions and benefits while giving large bonuses to executives. "...several top Postmedia executives had received enormous retention bonuses at a time of aggressive belt-tightening (after which many left regardless), and second, the March 2017 announcement that benefits and pensions would be curtailed significantly."

Already beginning to lay off staff from the Atlantic canada newspapers they now own. "...the long-term future of workers in departments like circulation, advertising, customer service, finance and production remains uncertain. "Staff believe maintaining local jobs in the community is critical to retaining both subscribers and clients," the union said. Last week, the union representing workers at The Telegram confirmed that four of the paper's 13 newsroom positions will be eliminated."

More reading: source 1, source 2

Tagging: @allthecanadianpolitics