#but it's been becoming more of an issue with polls lately

[kedreeva]

i really hate that allowing replies means I get emailed when someone replies to my reblog that isn't originally my post, especially since I don't get emails when someone @ mentions me in replies on other people's posts. I feel like it should be the other way around. I should only get emailed when people reply to a post I made, and I should get notified if someone is trying to get my attention. Anyway I'm cranky today.

[humanpurposes]

De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself. 

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather. 

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin. 

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway. 

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter. 

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her. 

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt. 

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle. 

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips. 

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly. 

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?” 

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach. 

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking. 

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin. 

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth. 

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless. 

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained. 

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

[holybibly]

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part II

Part I If you haven't read it

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ unprotected sex, Dom!San, Dom!Wooyoung, Sub!Reader, fingering, choking, degrading, pet names, spit kink, manhandling, threesomes, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation and more.

Tag list: @staytiny816 @woosmaid @jiminssluttyminx @liknws @pearltinyy @haebaragisworld @bts-iris @bleachpolaroid @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ginger-coffee-addict @pricessthings @rockstarsanie @lilmackiee @minaizum1 @shotahime @vixensss @meljoongiee @ivsjake4evr @love-me-a-little @seonghwaddict @onmykneesforateez @meeitany

A/N: Okay, we're here. I couldn't be more excited. Really, they've got a lot going on and I hope you're all ready because it's gonna be intense, hot and messy. Seriously, I really appreciate everyone's feedback and consideration for this series. It's become one of the most popular things I've written, but it put some pressure on me, because I'm worrying about whether the second part would please you. Well, I think we'll see.

Enjoy the chapter, even though it's practically nothing but smut.

The third and final part! takes us back to where it all began, but not without an emotional roller coaster ride. By the way, I wanted to point out that T/N doesn't remember what she promised them a year ago. So don't be surprised by the plot changes in this issue. In the finale, we're sure to get a hot threesome.

I'm still learning how to write smut, so please be gentle with me.

Besides, I can't help but talk about the results of the poll. The majority vote was for Alpha/Beta/Omega!au, and honestly, it's one of the ideas I'm most excited about, and I was hoping it would be the winner. I look forward to your comments. In general, feel free to write me about anything.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Much love, everyone.

Now. The morning after graduation.

It's a late, lazy morning when you wake from a deep and well-earned sleep. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the bright golden light flooding the room, which refracted through your bedroom's stained glass. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time, just as Hongjoong himself, who had inspired you to do this.

You should have shaded the windows last night before you went to sleep, but that was the last thing you thought of as lying in bed between the restless, wet San's and Wooyoung's bodies. You were more preoccupied with the touch of their rough hands on your heated body, the warmth of their breath on tender skin, and the sounds of their hoarse moaning right by your ear.

They were an absolute mess, slowly driving you crazy. Emotions raged in your stomach, making you feel guilty, embarrassed and… lustful. You practically dozed off at dawn, when the boys managed to calm down a bit and fall into a deep sleep.

The apartment is incredibly quiet; you can't hear a single sound, and only the soft sniffle on your neck, with the feeling of warm breath dancing across your bare skin, breaks this peaceful silence.

Wooyoung is still fast asleep, clutching you in his arms like a favorite teddy bear, his leg wrapped possessively around your thigh as it always has been. Even when he was asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let you go for a second.

You ran the palm of your hand over the sheet and felt nothing but the cold under your fingers. Sannie has been awake for a while now, and for a moment you're annoyed by this fact. You wish that he was still in bed with you, soft and gentle as he always was. So that the three of you could spend this special morning together. The graduation robes are scattered all over the room in a mess of things, and all you want to do is push them further and further into the wardrobe and forget about them forever. The dog days are finally over. You are now official free.

Sensual, full lips touch the sensitive spot on your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine. The throat is suddenly dry, sweat begins to form on your neck from the abruptly increase in desire, and you close your eyes tightly, aware of every touch and breath coming from Wooyoung more clearly than before. It's as if your whole body is completely focused on him, reacting to every fleeting movement and every sound with even more eager devotion.

You're still too receptive from last night, and you need more space to try and keep all those dirty, depraved thoughts from taking over and you. You studiously ignore the slight shiver of excitement that is happily tickling your breasts and causing the muscles in your lower abdomen to ripple in a pleasant way. You bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning in frustration as the images and sensations of the night flash in front of your eyes. You need to stop right now. It's too bad, but it's too sweet.

You start to wriggle, trying to get away from Wooyoung, who is still sleeping, but he just pulls you closer to his chest, as if he wants to dissolve into your body completely, and you melt.

Wooyoung has always been so insatiable and greedy for any kind of physical contact that you can offer him, like an adorable little puppy, that you can just wag your finger at him and he'll come running to you. He always had "too much space between you"; it was important to him to hold you constantly, to touch soft skin with his fingertips, to leave butterfly kisses in every possible place, to knead your thighs and squeeze waist possessively, to pull you so close that there wasn't a centimetre between you. You were his darling, soft and sweet girl in all the right places, and he just couldn't help himself.

San used to tell him that he was being a bit greedy and that he needed to learn how to share you with others. After all, sharing meant caring, and you were also his chagi.

Yes, you wanted to be taken care of, and that frightened you to the depths of your most forbidden fantasies. You wanted to be nervous about them; you wanted them to use you as they pleased, to make you take everything they had to offer, even if it destroyed you completely.

Your desire for them was more than you should have as friends. And that feeling had only grown stronger over the past year.

But despite Wooyoung's obsession and possessiveness, his touch always soothed you. He gave you the comfort you needed whenever you felt the need. And in the end, his hands would always nudge you in the direction of San, so that he could have his own moment of sharing with you. You were their own personal cuddly toy, and that was fine with you, because there was no place in the world where you could feel more protected and cuddly than in their arms.

But at the moment, you wanted nothing more than to get away from his touch and calm down your excitement. You'd been so needy since last night, and Wooyoung had only added to your frustration.

He's shirtless, his skin warm and smooth, and you can be sure it's golden like caramel where the sun has licked it. Delicious. You can almost taste him on the tip of your tongue, and suddenly you're tempted to sink your teeth into him for a taste, but you just bite down harder on your lower lip and stifle a moan.

You need to stop being so intensely... aware of him.

Maybe you were still drunk from the last night; after all, you couldn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila you'd consumed before dragging Yunho into the ladies' room to start kissing passionately. And you found yourself in an even more suggestive position with Seonghwa after another round of colourful, unnamed cocktails.

From then on, every innocent act made you feel lustful and hungry for intimacy.

Was it karma or something? You weren't sure, but you were more inclined to think that it was the lack of passionate sex you hadn't been having for a year now. You hadn't been able to find anyone suitable for a long-term relationship after you'd broken up with Suho, and boys-toys hadn't given you any pleasure.

You wanted more than ten minutes of gasping under the covers with awkward fingers poking into the pussy. They were cum faster than you were able to get yourself aroused. Pathetic.

You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a big dick that you could choke on for the rest of your life. A thick and long one, with visibly bulging veins, that could really hit all the sensitive places inside you, causing you to have orgasm after orgasm. And having not one but two perfectly matched options handy hasn't made things any easier.

If you offered to suck them off, Wooyoung's dick would be in your mouth in no time. He was always a fireball, passionate, and impatient, and San…San liked to play with his food before getting down to business. You were in awe of how perfect their dynamic was with such different personalities.

You wanted to see how attractive they would be when a warm throat closed around their cocks, when their beautiful faces were contorted with intense pleasure, and when you heard them moan out your name.

Damn it.

It's moments like these that make you realize that moving in with Wooyoung and San was the best and worst decision you ever made. Unless you count buying a pair of designer jeans that make your butt a magnet for people's hands.

The time went by far too quickly for your liking. It was easy to get lost in the succession of school days, week after week, punctuated by movie nights, spontaneous outings and a seemingly endless stream of student parties. Everything in your life changes. From the big renovation of your apartment, which was Hongjoong's job - he was still over the loss of his favourite vintage sofa - to the move in of San and Wooyoung. Things started to move at an even faster pace the day the boys dragged their suitcases into the dark space of your ultra-modern living room, to a general "You should have done this a long time ago".

It was a spontaneous and hasty decision. But what could have gone wrong? It's always been the three of you, and you had no idea that sharing space would have any effect on your relationship. God, how wrong you were. They played cat and mouse with you, testing your mettle and your patience. The memory of that moment is still so vivid in your mind.

"Come on, chagi, try it; it's quite tasty." San brought a spoonful of the dark green liquid, which Wooyoung proudly called the best hangover soup in the world, to your lips.

Jung Wooyoung and his ego, of course.

"Go ahead, baby; be good and open your mouth. It'll make you feel good, I  promise." That last sentence was full of innuendo, and it didn't take a genius to see it. In fact, everything that came out of Wooyoung's mouth was absolute filth.

He was practically purring in your ear, touching your delicate skin with every word, and you swear you could feel the touch of his tongue on your earlobe. Oh, fuck. His hands slid down your shoulders, deftly kneading the muscles that had gone stiff, his thumbs sliding up the vertebrae of your neck, and he dug a little bit into the hair at the back of your neck. In that moment, you were ready to do anything for him, whatever he asked.

"That's my Chagia, so docile and sweet." San would continue to feed you slowly with a spoon, smiling sweetly at you as if it were the most pleasant thing in the world to do. From time to time, he would wipe away the drops of liquid that ran down your lips with his thumb, as if in a romantic drama. You were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. But San's meaningful raised eyebrow made it clear that it was better to let him take care of you without resistance. San's language of love had always been to serve, and he took every opportunity to remind you of that.

The silence around you was nice and cozy—you'd even say relaxing—especially since you could still feel the humming bass of last night's music in your head. And all in all, you weren't feeling your best. Hell, that shit you drank last night was strong. This went on for a few more minutes until the plate in front of you was empty and Woo's face was pressed against your cheek in a cute puppy way. 

"Woo, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Y/N," San began, his voice suddenly becoming so sweet. He took your hand gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles lazily. He obviously wanted something from you.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

"We'd like to move in with you, peach, what do you think?" Wooyoung was pecking at your cheek, acting like a real sweetheart, but you knew every one of his tactics to get what he wanted.

"You're not going to get it if Woo keeps licking my cheek."

"But, Peach…" He whined, pursing his puffy lips in a resentful manner. Okay, he was cute as hell, but you were never going to tell him that.

"Chagi." You turned your attention back to San, who looked like he was confessing his love to you: Are this hearts in his eyes? Or are you still drunk?

"Agreed, we are practically living here anyway; I even have my own toothbrush in the bathroom. It's just a formality." He was awfully proud of it, squaring his shoulders and imagining himself under your gaze.

"We want to take care of you, baby."

And this is where you should have told them to fuck off and forget the way to your apartment, change the locks, and give San his toothbrush back. But whether it was the soft and somehow loving look of San's cat eyes paired with deep, sweet dimples or Wooyoung's gentle hands that started to knead your shoulders again in a languidly seductive way, you nodded affirmatively.

They were right; you were all practically living together. The amount of their stuff in your flat was unreal—the T-shirts you slept in, the perfume bottles left everywhere, study notes, games, pajamas and scarves, Wooyoung's luxurious leather jackets, and San's books—you could start a collection, but their stuff was just as much yours. It was also the constant cause of your and Suho's fights; he was always jealous of you and them, completely unaware of the dynamic between the three of you. They'd been glued to your thigh for years, and the fact that you had a boyfriend wouldn't change that. Narrow-minded prick.

"I think you're right. Let's give it a go."

"My little darling." San gave a dazzling smile, showing off his dimples even more, and pressed your hand to his lips. God, Choi San was a real menace. It was hard to believe that this pretty cat in front of you was none other than the one who was caught many times having rough sex in the middle of the university library. Once, he was even caught in a threesome, but you didn't want to point the finger at Wooyoung for putting him up to it.

"Yeah, that's our girl." Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek once more, salivating as much as he could along the way.

"Jung Wooyoung!" You squealed, wiping the drool from your cheek in disgust, but Woo was already happily scurrying into the living room, laughing loudly.

"We'll look after you, chagi."

That was San's last sentence before he ran his tongue over your hand, licked his fingers like a cat, and ran after Woo with an evil giggle.

"Choi San, come back at once!"

You are going to have so much fun here. Too much fun for your own good.

"Mmm… Peach, you are already awake." The soft touch of plump lips on your shoulder means that Wooyoung has woken up and wants to have your full attention.

"It has been some time. But I don't want to go anywhere. How are you feeling? Last night, when we came home, you and San were really drunk.

Wooyoung hugs you even tighter, nestling his face between your shoulder blades and taking a deep breath of your scent. Your skin is tickled by the tips of his long hair. A light touch on your lower back sends a jolt up your spine, making you arch slightly in his arms. Wooyoung is always like this; his defiant and needy attitude shouldn't be anything unusual for you, so you should stop reacting to him like this.

"Thank you for looking after us, peach. You're always so nice. Sannie and I don't deserve you." He kisses your neck. This time the touch lingers a little longer, and a feeling of excitement rises in your chest. "We haven't caused you any trouble, have we, little girl?" He purrs as he rubs his nose up against your shoulder. You couldn't help but notice how San's habits have become Wooyoung's habits, and vice versa. Now you have to put up with all that twin feline energy.

You turn to face him, and even after a night of sleeping with his hair tousled and without his usual cheeky grin, Wooyoung still looks pretty damn good. He's comfortable, a little sleepy, but no less seductive than he ever was. Woo has always had this sensual aura about him. Underneath the overt sexuality and the bitchy attitude, there was something else—something dark and seductive. You want to kiss him right now, so badly. Your hand runs through his silky hair, letting it fall in soft waves on either side of his face. Dark strands that are long enough to be pulled through easily. The world's handsomest boy.

It's all too easy to fall in love with him.

He kisses your palm playfully and pokes his nose into it like a cat hungry for affection, and you don't mind his purring with pleasure.

You wonder what he's going to sound like when he cums, God, you need to help yourself.

"Let me think." You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It's a deceptively gentle gesture before you pull hard on the roots of his hair, causing him to cry out in surprise.

"Oh, babe, why?" He purses his lips in offense, hoping you'll fall for his cute look. But you've known Wooyoung for years, and judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Firstly, you robbed me of my chance for great sex with your whining and dragging me home. Secondly, you behaved horribly when I tried to persuade you to take a shower and you kept me awake until the morning by clinging to me and fidgeting on the bed. Today I demand the royal treatment because you really messed up last night. This was not part of my plan for the prom at all."

Woo smiles back wickedly, practically baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

"Peaches, are you really such a needy girl? Well, what are we going to do about it? San and I will have to do our best to make it up to you." He suddenly turns you over so that you are lying on your back, sandwiched between the mattress and his lithe body. Wooyoung is hovering over you, his hair falling all over your face, and you can't help but notice how sexy he looks in this position, which is annoying the hell out of you. He doesn't even have to try very hard to send you over the edge.

Strong hands are resting on the sides of your head, letting you enjoy the sight of the seductively bulging veins that run down his forearms. Fuck, you've always had a weakness for his hands, and who wouldn't when they look like this? Woo leans his head towards you until your noses touch, like a predator cornering his prey.

"Baby, I have my doubts that you'll be satisfied with anyone, so don't sulk. And you know Sannie and I will have to approve of someone running their fingers down your knickers." He smiles broadly at you, clearly enjoying your annoyance when you roll your eyes at him.

"Jung Wooyoung, stop it!" Your hand leaves an angry red mark on the bare skin of his chest, and he grunts. It will take all the patience in the world not to beat him to death or kiss him. "I swear I'll wash your mouth out with soap someday." Or maybe you'll lick him from the inside out. "And stop sticking your pretty little nose where you shouldn't. You don't have to worry about who I'm gonna fuck."

"So what if it bothers me? What are you going to do with it, Peach?" He bites his lips in anticipation and raises an eyebrow in expectation, as if he were challenging you to go on.

The way that smug look is on his face makes you feel a little pissed off. You get a little cocky and decide to use the same tactic he did. Wrapping your hands around his face, you're pulling him even closer, resting him on your forearms and your lips nearly touch. He has siren eyes that are deep and mesmerising, and the intensity of his gaze causes your cheeks to flush and you to bite down on your lower lip. The gleam in his fox eyes is proof that he is enjoying every second of your little game.

"Seonghwa kisses you like he's fucking your mouth with his tongue, it's fucking heaven and you can do whatever you want with that fact, baby. I would have ridden him like a stallion in front of everyone last night if it wasn't for you and San's drunken arses". You push him off of you, and Wooyoung rolls over to the other side of the bed as you sit up.

There's something in the air, and you feel you've said something wrong, judging by the way Wooyoung's eyes are flashing with an emotion you can't quite describe. It's a weird mix between anger, envy, desire and something else. But whatever it is, it is making your pussy clench in anticipation of it.

Damn, when did you start thinking with what's between your legs instead of your brain?

He stares at you intently, as if he's trying to decide whether he's going to scold you or fuck you senseless. As lust flashes through his languid onyx eyes like a shooting star, fast but unmistakable, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his swollen lips, Wooyoung knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

You reach out to stroke his shoulder, and just as you expected, his skin is the most delicious shade of caramel. You can't help but want to run your tongue all over it.

Oh, shit. Now would be a good time to remind yourself: He's your best friend.

"Where`s San?" He asks you.

The expression on his face is, for the most part, neutral, with just a slight hint of lust and anticipation. He slowly licks his delicious lips and looks at you with bedroom eyes. You feel the warm moisture building up between your thighs. If he keeps looking at you like that, you're going to make a puddle of lust where you're sitting right now. You squeeze your thighs tighter to keep the liquid from dripping shamefully onto the bed, praying to all the gods that Wooyoung won't notice.

"I don't know. He wasn't in the bed when I woke up."

"Good."

What the hell is 'GOOD'? You need to collect your thoughts and leave this stuffy room, but the way Wooyoung's eyes slide over your body before, and slowly sucking his lower lip tells you there's nowhere to run. 

"Come to me, sweetheart; I want you in my arms." He is stroking himself on his thigh, the silk fabric of his pajamas leaving no room for imagination as it outlines the taut muscles of his gorgeous thighs. His legs are spread a little wider to draw your attention to where he wants you now, and you can clearly see the imprint of his thick dick through the fabric. Damn. It's completely hard, and you can't help but notice how big it is.

His actions send signals straight to the nerves that control your cunt. The wet heat is running between your legs and your arousal is increasing. A palpable shiver runs through all body as you squirm and writhe under the intensity of his gaze.

The rational part of you is literally beating in a hysterical frenzy. It's your hope that your stupid brain will realise the full implications of what's happening, and that you'll be able to put a stop to it. Even if the boundaries of your friendship were highly questionable, you were friends. While the evil voice in the back of your head was cheering you on: "C'mon, what's the bad that can happen?"

He was inviting you, and who were you to refuse? Not that you wanted to.

They'd go crazy if San and Wooyoung knew what thoughts and fantasies lived in your head every day. Huh. They had no idea their sweet chagia had such a dark and dirty mind. You take a deep breath.

Screw it.

You slowly crawl across the bed towards him. He watches you with a squinting, predatory look on his face until one of your legs has been thrown across his body and you're almost sitting on top of him. Almost, as your thighs struggle to keep you in that rigid position, but apparently Woo wasn't in the mood, and his broad palms force your hips down so you're sitting all the way in his lap. Before you realise what you're doing, you're pinned against his crotch, his hard cock touching your aching clit as you move against him, demanding physical stimulation. The contact was so good that it sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost moaned at the tiny moment of pleasure it gave you. Damn, it was massive—so thick you started salivating in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You're up to your neck in shit. 

"There you are, starlight, in my hands." His voice, once so high and soft, was now hoarse and deep. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so that there was hardly any space between the two of you. "Baby girl, are you still upset about Seonghwa?" It's a nickname he rarely uses, and it sends an electric shock through your lower abdomen, triggering a feeling you're not sure you can control right now. He leans in close to you and presses his wet lips against the side of your ear. "Tell me what I can do to stop you being angry with me."

"Kiss me, make me feel good." The evil little voice in the back of your head chimes in with glee. "Blow my brains out until my head feels empty and light." It says.

A whole new sensation takes over. Your body starts to heat up in anticipation of what is to come. Then the room will seem to shrink and the air will fill with a tension and a desire.

"I don't know. You've really pissed me off." You look up at him through your impossibly thick lashes, your lips in a fake pout. You weren't the innocent one; you could have played just as badly as they did. "You'll have to try harder, pretty boy." You let your finger nails run down the length of his neck. Wooyoung tilts his head back to reveal a chin line that could have been carved from the finest marble.

As his hands lazily caress your thighs, lifting your T-shirt higher and higher, your skin burns under his palms. Damn, he's scalding you.

The wetness between your legs is becoming more and more intense as the conversation goes on and on. Your juices seep through the thin lace of your panties, dripping from your pussy, leaving little dark streaks on the silk of his trousers where they touch your thighs. The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you're so hot and needy; and Wooyoung is no help at all.

His aura is one of dominance, and you swallow in anticipation. A storm is about to break and you don't want to be safe.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do for you, Y/N."

You're done for.

"Then kiss me, stupid boy, make me feel good."

He growls back at you, embracing you on the back of the head and practically forcing your faces together. The palm of his hand clenches possessively on the back of your neck with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. With the sudden movement, you feel yourself pressing even harder against his dick, and it sends a pleasurable pulse through your clit.

Wooyoung presses his forehead against yours and your lips are just a breath away from each other.

You stare back at him without blinking. His eyes are half closed as he watches you in silence, like a tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce with its jaws clenched. It is in a low, dangerously calm tone that he speaks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, baby girl? I'm biting." It's mixed with your sighing and seductive lips, and you can barely make out the words.

"P-please…"

His moan is loud, guttural, and mildly painful, and then…

O MY GOD.

Those soft lips are pressed hard against yours in an urgent, hungry kiss. His mouth is insistent and demanding, his thumb digging into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue gliding along the bottom of your lip. Slowly, as he pulls your lips apart, he moves in quickly, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs his tongue over the roof of your mouth and licks your teeth. It should have been dirty and rough, but instead you find yourself moaning with wanton need.

"Wooyoung..." The moan of his name was so desperate, so needy, so full of lust and desire.

"Goddamn, I love it when you say my name."

He kisses you with renewed ferocity, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. Wooyoung is too passionate; he licks your mouth with his tongue, and literally shoves it down your throat. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst and you're the only way to make him drink. Spittle runs down your chin, it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop, you don't want to stop. Wooyoung's tongue is practically fucking you in the mouth.

And God, you want more. It feels unreal, too extreme to be a reasonable response to a kiss, the heat between your legs, your clit throbbing with need, your nerves on fire.

Wooyoung lets go of you for a moment and you stare at him with your eyes wide open. Your heart is pounding wildly and your breathing is so ragged that you're practically choking to death. Licking away any remnants of the kiss you shared, his wet pink tongue pokes out from between his plump lips.

His hand slides down your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head slightly so that your eyes meet his, his gaze clouded with lust as if his fingers were digging deep inside you. You can't say a word as a wicked smile spreads across his sharp, enchanting face.

Now you have a better understanding of all those damsels who are ready to spread their legs at the flick of his fingers.

"Tell me you want more, baby. I have a feeling this apology isn't enough. I need to do more than that. I'm so desperate for forgiveness.

"Don't I need to be forgiven too, Woo? You shouldn't be so greedy. That voice, oh shit.

You turn sharply around and find yourself staring into San's beautiful cat eyes. He's so damn good-looking you swallow a groan. It must be illegal for someone to look this good in normal jeans and a plain black shirt. But San had a body worth dying over.

A real girl's dinner.

What the hell are you going to do now? How long had he stayed there?

"San-ah… how…" You find yourself stuttering. Your mouth dries up and you can't utter a word, but even if you could, your brain can't form coherent thoughts. You can't bring yourself to look away from him, and something deep inside you knows that he will punish you if you try.

"What is it, Gongjunim? Did the cat eat your tongue?" He raises an eyebrow at you, a shit-eating grin playing at the corners of his lips. As if in mockery, his soft, patronising tone of voice slides over your skin. San combines a sensual, gentle nature with a seductive one that makes you feel he's looking for a weakness before pouncing. His fucking duality. One moment he's a little sweetheart, the next he's a lecherous demon who wants to sink his teeth into your throat and devour you. "Come on, Chagia, I promise I won't disappoint you; I'm very good at excuses."

Responding to his sultry purr, your pussy clenches shamefacedly.

The excitement of it all makes your brain feel like mush and sets your skin on fire.

You start squirming in Wooyoung's arms, and now that San's here, you belatedly realise what you've gotten yourself into. Is it time for a change of scenery or something? No, you want to stay. Desperately.

You need them to blow your brains out, to make you dumb and submissive and a pretty little toy for them to play with. Sometimes you have to stop before you cross the line, but where is the line when you're literally sitting on your best friend's hard cock?

Hell, you don't know what you're supposed to do - run or beg - but you clearly know what they want to do to you, judging by Wooyoung's dick twitching between your thighs and San slowly licking his lips as he looks at your bare ass peeking out from under your shirt. His shirt.

There must be some kind of telepathic connection between Wooyoung and San. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, San pulls his T-shirt over his head, tosses it aside and slowly walks over to you. The grin on his face seems to have changed; it has become even darker than before. Hungrier.

And you don't think this is a good time to start drooling. But damn it, you want to lick him from head to toe.

Between the three of you, there's a chaos of emotion and desire. It's mixed with adrenaline and a distant fear of what's going to happen. There has to be an end to this game of predator and prey, and why not do it now? Sighing, you finally give in.

In the morning, you'll consider the consequences.

"Maybe you should kiss me too, San-ah, and I'll start thinking about forgiving.

Hot lips instantly press an open, wet kiss to your shoulder. The bed buckles under the weight of another man's body. San's strong arms are wrapped around your waist and his fingers clench your t-shirt into a fist. He's hot, warm and hard, and you can feel the hardness of his dick through your trousers as he presses down hard against you. His mouth is sucking, biting and licking your skin as if his life depended on it. Sharing an understanding look with Wooyoung, San slides his lips higher up your body.

"Sannie…" Before planting a hot kiss on your neck, you whimper as his teeth sink into your sensitive flesh.

The moan that comes from the back of your throat is so deep that for a moment you wonder if it's coming from you at all.

Pure pleasure shoots through you as you feel Woo's long tongue on the other side of your neck. He lets out the sexiest moan deep in his throat, as if he's having the time of his life, savouring every second of the way his lips explore the nape of your neck. You're distracted. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey on the back of your neck.

"Oh, my God, boys."

"That's my darling, Chagia." His voice is sultry and seductive, and you can clearly hear the saturi again, as it tends to do at times when San is in a highly aroused state.

"You're so beautiful, my peach." Wooyoung whispers to you, and you just melt away completely.

You whimper as Woo begins to run his hands up and down your thighs and arse, squeezing and pulling. He mooed softly as you made little circular movements with your hips and rubbed his cock against you. Woo punishes you by slapping your bottom if you cuddle too hard. You'll need to be obedient as they play with you.

The sound fills the room along with the collective moaning of Wooyoung's and San's.

"What a dirty little girl you are. I think you need to be taught how to obey." Woo spanks you a few more times and you wiggle your hips in an impatient way.

It feels so good.

San pulls your t-shirt up to your breasts while all your attention is focused on Wooyoung. Your little thong is completely transparent and does nothing to hide your sex or the excitement building within you. They are practically digging into your needy pussy because of the position you are now in. A chorus of gasps and moans can be heard from your best friends as their eyes focus on that big, wet spot. San's greedy hands press you even closer to his body, so that you can feel his full erection on top of your plump, bare bum.

"You're so fucking wet." Wooyoung hisses. "Like a bitch leaking just thinking about our cocks in your tight little cunt. We'll destroy you, Peach."

Before you realise what's happening, Woo's hands slide down your back, your nipples tensing in the cool open air. The soft fabric of your t-shirt falls to the floor, and suddenly, hot wetness envelops your left nipple and he sucks hard on it, the pressure causing pain that turns to pleasure as his tongue touches the hard bud. Your head immediately falls back onto San's shoulder as you open the soft space of your throat to his insatiable mouth. You let out a long groan, and your hand rests on Wooyoung's head, tugging lightly at the soft lengths of his hair.

You feel like you could explode at any moment, even though they haven't done anything to you yet. You're burning, almost feverish, as the growing fire between your thighs reaches unbearable levels. You can't breathe; your skin is hypersensitive. Your head tilts to the side, and you whimper San's name in the most pathetic intonation possible. His hand slides lower and lower, past your waist and your stomach, to the place where you most want to feel him. It hasn't even come close to touching your pussy yet, but the thought of it is enough to make you squirm with excitement.

His hands move down low enough to touch the skin of your naked legs and up slowly, frantically, until he reaches where you are starting to get aroused. The palm of his hand encircles your pussy in a possessive way, the small mound of flesh lying so perfectly in the palm of his hand. You tremble a little at this, and try to spread your legs wider so that his fingers can rub against the moist slit, so that he can dive in between the warm folds until your pussy spreads out beautifully for him, so that he can rub your clit with ease.

"Mmm… what a wet little thing. I bet my Gongjunim has the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my life. Fleshy, shiny, and pink - just the way I like it. He gasps for breath. He puts his hands on your hips and rubs his hard cock against the curve of your ass a couple of times. "Do you feel that, Chagia? No one can make me as hard as you can." On your skin, his breath feels like fire. Hoping for a little more friction, you arch your backside. The gesture reveals a hiss from his side.

San's fingers, one tempting back and forth with a feathery touch, spread the excitement building in your slit beneath the thin material. Your pussy clenches around nothing at all in the most uncomfortable way, and you know that he can feel it.

"Do you like this chagi? Wooyoung's mouth on your full, pretty tits? My fingers on your sweet little snatch?" San's tone is almost mocking. His tongue is licking his lips; his fingers continue to stroke your clothed pussy in a leisurely manner; and he watches intently as Wooyoung literally chokes on your breasts. "We are gonna fuck you until you squeal like the slutty little bitch you are." He growls into your ear, and the sound of it makes you pull on Woo's hair with all your might.

And you always had the impression that Wooyoung's mouth was dirty.

A soft moan slips out of the brunette's swollen lips, which are now wrapped so tightly around your nipple that you're sure they're going to leave a mark on it. As he pulls back with an audible pop, you let out a small sound as you look at his ecstatic face. His eyes are half closed, his eyelids flutter slightly and a beautiful flush of colour has appeared on his cheeks. His plump lips are glistening with the saliva and the service he is giving to your tits.

"Are you feeling good, peach?" He chuckles weakly as he watches you fall apart in San's skilled hands, leaving you as beautiful as ever in his eyes. Woo gives your nipple a hard pinch, only to then let his tongue run over it. The sudden change in sensation causes your head to begin to spin, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure.

"Please… I need… more… Youngiee." You stammer out the words, your voice shaking and your body trembling.

"You look so pretty when you beg. But do you want to know something, сhagi? You'll look even more beautiful with your cunt stretched around my dick. I will ravage your tiny pussy, Gongjunim. I'm going to make you mine." San finally kisses you; though it's hard to call it a kiss, he dives into your lips like a hungry man, sucking them so deeply and passionately, with an insistence that you don't even think you'll ever understand.

His tongue is merciless as he explores every millimeter of the inside of your mouth. This kiss is heavenly, and with every second that passes, you find yourself wanting more, wanting him to spoil you in every way that he can. To have his way with you until you have no more patience. And it is these thoughts that make you wriggle in Wooyoung's arms. You try to rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unbearable heat inside you.

"The taste is so damn good."

You can feel Woo squeezing your breasts almost in sync, his warm tongue sliding over the plump flesh once more, licking at the aroused nipples, and his teeth scratching the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. You savour the lightning bolts of pleasure that the two of them cause to bounce around your body. It's almost painful, but you know you're loving this.

Half gasping, half squealing at the sheer, blunt pressure of San's nimble, kneading fingers finding their way to your labia through the mesh of the thong. Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and your hands are sticky with sweat as you grasp the wrist of his hand.

"Oh, your pussy is so sensitive, isn't it, Chagia?" San cooed with feigned tenderness, and with a strange sadism, he pressed his middle finger against your cunt, sliding it right over the spot where your clit was, causing your hips to shake. The lubrication of your arousal made it much more effective for him to stimulate you, and he would literally bring you to orgasm with minimal effort. He purred softly as you responded, like a big cat purring, and just when you thought he couldn't fuck with your sanity even more, he turned his head and spat on your lips, a glob of saliva dribbling into your open mouth and you choked out a moan.

It's so rough and dirty, but your body responds the best it can, arching into his arms and pressing your breasts even harder against Wooyoung's face.

The brunette moans in response and lifts his foxy eyes to you. You can see the corner of his lips curl into a smirk before he bites down hard on your nipple. Fuck, your life will never be the same. And they haven't even got around to fucking you properly yet. It's like heaven and hell at the same time.

"I want to hear you whimper, Gongjunim." San's hand grips the back of your neck very tightly, causing you to gasp for breath from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes begin to roll up at the possessive touch of his hand on your throat, and you begin to jerk your hips, your clit pressing against Wooyoung's cock, and he lets out a long, hard moan.

"Please, Sannie." You're breathing out.

"Look at her, San, our girl, slobbering like a brainless slut." Wooyoung wipes the viscous saliva from your parted lips, then pushes his fingers into your mouth with a sharp, deep thrust. For a second you choke and begin to gurgle around the long phalanges.

He hadn't removed the rings yesterday and now the heavy metal makes your tongue feel cold. "Think of the way my dick is fucking your little throat, starlight. Suck it hard." You wheeze and gurgle, your saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips, but you have done exactly as you have been told.

It was rough, it was horrible and it was so wet that it was almost disgusting to watch. But Woo enjoyed it; he literally raped your mouth with his fingers in a sort of sadistic sense. A few thick strands of saliva would stick to your swollen lips as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

"Look at you. Taking my fingers in your mouth like that. Such a good girl."

This whole game has been nothing more than a distraction from the main action. There's a short circuit in your body as a sharp sensation pierces every nerve in your body. San suddenly slaps you hard on your wet pussy, the contact sending sparks of pain and pleasure flying across your skin, and you let out a squeal.

"Oh my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to… I'm going to…" You go over the edge as you feel your juices pouring down your legs, your vaginal muscles contracting, forcing more fluid to pour out of you, the combination of their names coming weakly from your lips as your orgasm washes over your weakened limbs.

"Fuck, Peach is so hot… You're squirting." You belatedly realise that Wooyoung is also cumming as he throws his head back in pleasure, his eyes rolling up and his mouth opening in a long, whimpering moan.

You can hardly catch your breath when you feel San rest his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around you, whispering in your ear.

"One more gongjunim; give me one more orgasm and then I'll caress you."

"Ah, San." The searing sensation of his fingers roughly pinching your clit through the wet material of your thong causes you to cry out hoarsely in agony. The sound of your wet, sensitive cunt splashing was clear and vivid; the sensation was brutal, but so indescribable you were ready to faint from pleasure.

He's going to tear you apart.

"Cum for me, Chagia. I know you can do it. Sperm for us; make Youngie and me proud of you".

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you swore that your cunt was on fire, your whole body shuddering in electrifying spasms of pleasure that made your toes curl up and your thighs shake. San's hand was still firmly around your throat, holding your head upright as you had your orgasm.

It had shattered you so badly that the fall seemed dramatic, and you went completely limp as the orgasm dissipated, turning you into an inconsolable, whimpering, disorderly mass.

They had blown your brains out.

"There you are, Gongjunim, I got you. You did so well." San muttered, but your mind was too tired to admit it. Amused at how angry and lost you looked, you saw stars as Wooyoung's hand tilted your head to the side in a teasing way to look at your confused face.

"You're no longer angry with us, are you, Peach?"

San removes his hand from your throat and allows Wooyoung to pull your face up to his own. Gentle fingers caress your cheekbones and soft lips wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. At one point, you didn't even realise you were crying. It's such a contrast to his previous behaviour; here he is your usual adored Jung Wooyoung, a little clingy, a little annoying and with an unrealistic maternal instinct. Your best friend.

Fuck. Now it is time for you to start crying for the real time. You begin to sob, pushing Wooyoung away from you in a desperate attempt to get out of his arms. You can feel the wetness underneath you and it makes you feel worse and worse. You need to get out of here now. Your behaviour frightens them to death and San's hands are on your body again, squeezing your shoulders gently.

"Stop, stop for a second, Y/N. It's all right, Chagia. We have you."

You freeze at the sound of your name, like a deer caught in the headlights.

In anticipation of his next move, your whole body tenses like a string. Wooyoung's fingers intertwine with yours. It's a familiar gesture, so familiar to you, so ordinary, so perfected over the years of your friendship. San lets you go when he realises you're not going anywhere, and his face comes to rest next to Wooyoung's as you look at him.

He's handsome, too, to the point of madness, and trembles at the knees. His cheeks are flushed. There's still a lingering gleam of lust and excitement in his eyes, but with a touch of strange emotion. His plush lips are soft and swollen from all the kissing, and his body glistens with sweat. And the reason he looks like that is because of you. You look at Wooyoung and see that he looks exactly the same, but the emotion in his eyes is more obvious than ever.

You want to crawl off his lap and cower in shame in the corner of the room so you don't have to look at all that tenderness and loveliness in his foxy eyes. You can handle his cheeky, flirtatious backside with ease, but this kind of Wooyoung is new territory for you.

"We… shit. This shouldn't have happened. This is the first rational thought to come out of your mouth all day. And you should have said it a lot sooner, before your two best friends made you cum twice with a squirting orgasm.

"Chagia, I think there's something we need to talk about, but first let's get you back to your normal self."

You don't argue; just nod and realize that San is absolutely right. You look like a complete mess, covered in saliva and lubricant. You can feel Wooyoung's cum seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms and drying on the inside of your thigh.

You look fucked.

"Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about."

It sounds terribly stupid, but what else can you say? Can we forget it? Or can we fuck again?

All your years of sexual longing for them have turned into a resounding slap in your face.

"Go take a bath, Peach, and we'll talk. San and I will take care of the rest."

For some reason, this sentence gave you a vague feeling of déjà vu. But you pushed the thought out of your head as quickly as it had come.

"Okay."

You finally slide off Wooyoung's lap, ignoring their stares at your almost naked body, there's no point in covering up or acting like a shy maiden, San's fingertips were rubbing your pussy just five minutes ago, bringing you to some kind of crazy orgasm, and the entire lower half of Woo's body is drenched in your secretions. If you've ever wanted to imagine how your friendship would turn out, this is it.

You trudge to the bathroom on your tired legs, pulling off your disgustingly wet thong on the way and throwing it on the floor. You turn on the light, turn on the tap and the whole room is immediately filled with the warm steam of hot water. Outside the door you can hear the muffled voices of the boys, who seem to be having some sort of heated argument, judging by San's irritated moaning and Wooyoung's loud whining.

You don't want to go into details; you still have time to destroy yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow has come much earlier for you, if the fucked-up look on your face is any indication. Dishevelled hair, hickey marks, bruises and swollen lips from biting. What a beautiful morning after graduation!

"Wooyoung, you should have waited for me." San's voice is much louder now.

"As if I'm the only one who fucked her. Don't try to tell me it's all my fault."

You still don't want to join the conversation.

A pink, glistening puddle of something that smells like candy spreads across the bathtub. Thanks to Mingi, you have a whole collection of these colourful bombs. He's always had a soft spot for all things cute and charming, and he's taken every opportunity to spoil you to death with them.

With a tired sigh, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. So, Peach, are you ready for the consequences?

Turning away from your reflection, you lock the door with a click.

[captain-hawks]

Spicy sleepover with Shoto Todoroki in the back of a car 👀

coming undone

shouto todoroki x f!reader

Your job as pro hero Shouto Todoroki's personal assistant becomes marginally more difficult when he's hit with a Quirk that disrupts his body's temperature regulation abilities—particularly when you have few other options at your disposal in the back seat of his car.

wc: 2.5k

c: 18+only, pro hero!shouto, semi-public sexual activities, dry humping, lap grinding, fingering, coming in pants

SPICY SLEEPOVER — PART V

“Right there,” Todoroki exhales roughly, the leather seat groaning beneath him as he shifts. “Keep it there.”

Despite the borderline pornographic noise crawling its way up his throat as his head tips backward, white and red strands of hair falling across his forehead, it’s most certainly platonic—the steady pressure of your hands on his exposed chest, his black button-down shirt wholly undone. 

There are ice packs between your palms and his bare skin, angry swirls of stream hissing from the place where they meet.

Your job has been fairly simple for the past year, being pro hero Shouto Todoroki’s personal assistant. He’s a kind, fair employer that doesn’t want for much, if anything at all—to the point where oftentimes, you have to force him to pass along tasks you should be the one doing. You’re fairly certain that the only reason he even put up a job posting for an assistant in the first place was at the insistence of some of the shareholders at his agency. 

The easy, amicable friendship that you’ve found along the way—a byproduct of the large amount of time you spend together—has likely been the one thing that’s kept him from phasing out the position entirely.

But this past week has been difficult, to say the least.

Regardless of his constant tenure amongst the top hero ranks, even he has met his match on occasion. Unfortunately, the match in question this time around was an unstable, overpowered ice-wielding villain whose Quirk had a rare, unfortunate side effect. Finding a weak spot in Todoroki’s defenses when his body began to tip over the edge of overheating from the massive amount of flames flowing out of him, the villain managed to dig its claws into Todoroki’s internal temperature regulation, throwing his body’s equilibrium entirely off kilter.

The effects are expected to fade within the month, but for the time being, Todoroki’s been mostly out of commission as his body temperature rapidly rises and drops without warning. As his assistant, you’ve been by his side nearly round the clock since the incident.

By and large, you like to consider yourself an utmost professional. Because despite the fact that Todoroki continues to dominate social media’s unofficial “Most Eligible Pro Hero Bachelor” poll (something which he wasn’t even aware of until you told him one night over take out food in his kitchen), you’ve managed to avoid your body and mind’s subjective opinion on the matter.

Despite the way it seems as if he shares more with you than anyone else in his life as of late.

Despite his complete and utter avoidance of matchups and dates with no explanation other than, “I’m not interested.”

(Despite the frown that flitted across his face when you laughed as you told him someone at the agency asked you out several weeks ago.)

Despite the fact that sometimes, it feels like the soft, relaxed smile you’ve come to know so well is one reserved just for you.

But your patience and self-preservation have been put to the test like never before as of late—particularly during the moments when Todoroki begins to overheat. Twice already, you’ve had to help him out of his clothes and into an ice cold shower, half of your body getting soaked in the process while you helped him stay upright. 

Which is an issue you find yourself faced with now after he insisted he’d be able to make it through a brief appearance at tonight’s hero gala. 

At the very least, he managed to make it up onstage for the few remarks at the podium that he was slated for, but once he returned to the empty seat beside you at your table, that’s when things went south. Quickly picking up on the telltale signs of his body temperature rising as you took one glance at his flushed skin, you hardly made it out to the parking lot with a handful of ice packs you’d begged the kitchen staff to give you before he was collapsing in the back seat of his car. 

Pointedly ignoring the bead of sweat that seems to be teasing you as it drips precariously down the side of his taut neck, you ask, “You okay?”

Exhaling slowly, he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours as he goes to take one of the ice packs from your grip, moving it to his forehead instead, where sweat-damp strands of hair now lie in a messy heap.

You firmly remind yourself how wrong it would be to mull over how ungodly attractive he looks in this moment as he sits there beside you with his thighs spread wide, chest heaving. 

“I think—shit,” he grunts, dropping the ice pack to the floor as a full-body shiver begins to wrack through him.

While most waves are either one extreme or the other, sometimes, his body instantly bounces from cold to hot—or vice versa. 

Quickly removing the ice pack you’re holding as well, you shove it to the other side of the back seat and quickly lean forward to the front of the car to swap the air conditioning setting to heat. When you look back at him, you frown. “I didn’t bring any blankets, but maybe this will…”

You start to shrug off your cardigan, but Todoroki reaches a hand out, placing it gently on your forearm.

“It won’t…can you just…” he trails off, his blue and gray eyes staring into yours as he tries (and fails, miserably) to suppress the way his limbs have begun to shake from the chill. Glancing down at where his fingers are still resting against your skin, cold as ice, he shakes his head, letting you go. “Nevermind.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s suggesting. And while you’re appreciative that he’s respectful enough of your professional working relationship to backtrack the thought, the scope of your job has already exaggerated such fluid boundaries over the past few days—what’s another line crossed?

You begin to shift, and Todoroki’s eyes go wide as he exclaims, “You really don’t have to—oof.”

Before you can lose your nerve, you slide into his lap.

With his chest to your back, Todoroki doesn’t seem to know what to do at first, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. 

“It’s fine,” you huff out, voice coming out a bit higher than you mean for it to as you grasp his wrists and wrap his cold arms around you.

Both of you sit in silence for a moment, save for the occasional chattering of his teeth, and you hope he’s not looking in the rearview mirror to see the way your eyes are scrunched shut as you try to resist the urge to mentally catalog the way your body fits against his. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, voice a little rough. 

Though his limbs are still ice against yours, you can feel him begin to relax just a fraction as the combination of your body heat and the warm air blasting through the vents up front begins to defrost his chilled extremities. 

“I feel like the shower was worse than this,” you joke, if only to lighten the moment as you remember the sight of the endless rivulets of cold water cascading down his broad, bare chest.

The warm scent of his cologne that clung to the t-shirt he insisted you change into after you ended up halfway drenched yourself.

But as he exhales, a lukewarm huff of air tickling the back of your neck and your body unintentionally sliding deeper into the cradle of his hips as he shifts slightly, you know you’re lying.

This is far fucking worse.

His hand twitches against your chest as he shivers, and you inhale sharply when his thumb unknowingly skates along the skin just beneath one of your breasts, the thin fabric of your dress doing little to dampen the sensation. 

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this,” he sighs, voice taking on a remorseful tone. “I could put you in an easier position somewhere else at the agency, if you want.”

Turning your head sideways, the corners of your mouth tilt downward, brows furrowing. “You think this is going to make me want to quit?”

He shrugs, and you bite the inside of your lower lip to stifle the indecent noise that threatens to burst up your throat as his forearms press into your sides. “I would completely understand.”

“You’re going to have to fire me if you want me gone that bad.”

“Never,” he quickly replies.

You smile. “Dumping ice cold water over your head and wrapping you up in five layers of blankets could hardly be considered a difficult job. And this—this is perfectly fine. You’re kind of comfortable, you know.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can feel you starting to shiver, too.”

Shrugging, you flippantly wave your head. “This is still way more fun than that date I was supposed to go on tonight.”

Todoroki stiffens a bit beneath you, swallowing audibly. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t go.”

Given that you’ve yet to even admit to yourself yet that you’d rather spend time with Todoroki than anyone else, you simply reply, “I knew you were going to need me here tonight.”

Head falling back against the seat once more, he sighs. “I feel like I always need you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you let your gaze fall toward the windshield as you weakly respond, “I’m the one that has to force you to stop doing everything yourself and give me work to do half of the time.”

Todoroki’s quiet for a beat, and you can see him flick his gaze up to the roof of the car from the reflection in the rearview. “Because I don’t want to let myself—”

You blink several times. “It’s okay to depend on me, that’s my job.”

His voice sounds strained when he answers. “It’s more than that.”

It’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to fidget in his lap beneath the ministrations of your rapidly galloping heartbeat. 

“I want things that I shouldn’t want,” he exhales, voice low and careful.

Briefly, you begin to wonder if perhaps you’ve succumbed to hypothermia.

Carefully, you place one of your hands over his. Todoroki stills, his shivering limbs falling quiet beneath your touch. 

“Do I get a say in this?” you ask, lacing your fingers together.

He inhales sharply. “I didn’t think you—”

“I’m good at my job,” you shrug, finding the courage to turn your head sideways to look at him again, your body moving in his lap in the process.

And it’s then that you feel something hard pressing up against your ass.

“You’re very good at your job,” he confirms, the last few words dissolving into a groan that he can no longer stifle.

Letting yourself relax further into him, you angle your face so that your noses are nearly touching. “I feel like there are easier ways to get warm.”

He leans a little closer, the scent of mint gum lingering on his lips as they skirt near the periphery of your own. “Are there?”

You nod, subtly pressing your backside down into his front. “Science would shame us for not trying.”

He groans again, his mouth brushing against yours. “I think you’re right.”

This time, it’s Todoroki who rocks his hips upward, slowly dragging his cock against the divot between your ass cheeks. And when you finally let out the breathy, keening moan that you’ve been holding back, his lips crash into yours in a messy, hungry, sideways kiss. 

Your hypothesis very quickly proves itself correct as Todoroki grinds against your ass, blazing heat flooding your body and flaring white-hot in the pit of your stomach as he groans into your mouth, your spit-soaked lips slotted together in the best messy approximation you can make of kissing at this awkward angle. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, hands roaming across your front to grasp your breasts. 

Shrugging down the straps of your dress and bra, you let your tits spill out, and Todoroki’s hips stutter as his fingers begin to knead your bare, supple skin. 

“Want you to feel good, too,” he breathes out, and the gravelly state of his voice alone leaves you whimpering as he begins to pinch and tease your pert, sensitive nipples.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to resist the urge to touch yourself, particularly when your aching, dripping cunt is right within your own reach beneath the skirt of your dress. Sliding a hand down between your legs, you writhe under Todoroki’s attentive touch as you feel how soaked your underwear are.

“Can I—”

His chin is on your shoulder, his eyes focused on where you’re currently stuffing two fingers into your panties and moaning softly as you slide them through your creamy slit. You can practically feel the fresh wave of arousal that leaks from your quivering hole at what he’s asking.

“Please.”

Todoroki lets out a satisfied, relieved sound as his hand makes its way down your chest, quickly replacing your own inside of your underwear. His hips grind up against your ass harder as a near-feral groan rumbles in his chest while he drags three fingers through the sloppy mess your folds have become.

“You’re so wet,” he pants, struggling to get the words out fully as they die on a groan when he slips two fingers inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, your body drenched in a burning wave of pleasure as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, thrusting a finger in and out of your cunt while he drags his thumb over your swollen clit.

“So fucking warm,” he breathes out, teeth caressing the soft juncture between your shoulder and neck. 

“Are you?”

He plunges a second finger inside of you, and you spread your even legs wider in his lap, choking out a moan as he makes a point of fitting his fingers inside of the hot, tight, soaking wet warmth of your pussy, still rutting his hard cock against your ass all the while. 

“You are.”

A scorching whip of pleasure snaps sharply inside of you and bursts open wide, flooding your veins with a euphoric, intoxicating feeling that leaves you trembling and gasping and moaning as he finger fucks you through each cresting wave of your sudden climax.

“Shouto,” you whimper.

His hands slide to your hips, gripping you hard as he brokenly moans, dragging his cock up and down your ass in firm, hurried strokes. You can feel it when he tips over the edge of his orgasm, his thick cock pulsing as he comes in his pants, breathing hard.

With one hand grasping the back of the driver’s seat, you turn to look at him, a fond, excited, and dizzying wave of warmth blooming in your chest at how entirely undone Shouto Todoroki looks—lips slightly parted as his chest heaves, eyes alight in post-orgasmic bliss, a dark stain of cum seeping through the front of his pants.

“Warm enough yet?” you ask coyly.

He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as his mouth curves upward in a smile that makes your heart leap. “I think you should stay at my place tonight, just in case.”

[sunandflame]

Flame and Water, Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! After a poll decision I turned the 'The Water Pillars Tsuguko' into a full length fic. And a fresh start need a new blog as I can't interact with my sideblog (which sucks) So this is going to be an ongoing series from. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You are the water pillars Tsuguko and you are training under him. One day you meet all the hashiras and when your gaze falls upon Rengoku, you are terrified to the bones.

Ship & Trope: Kyojuro x Fem!Reader (Water Pillars Tsuguko)

Warnings: none (yet)

Word Count: 1,9 Words

pinterest board of Flame and Water

spotify playlist for Flame and Water

crossposted on AO3

Masterlist of Flame and Water

"The Breath of Water is a technique that can adapt to all kinds of attacks. But to master it, you need to have the heart to always keep your breaths steady. Like a water surface. Think of your heart as the surface. If you wish to become the strongest Demon Hunter Swordsman, if you wish to become a pillar, you need to always keep your heart steady. Keep it calm and gentle, like the water's reflection."

Those were the words that Urokodaki-san passed on to Tomioka-san that he now passed to you before he started his first training lesson with you, before he started accepting you as his Tsuguko. You had anchored these words deep in your heart and reflected them on the outside. You have always been a very calm person, but as soon as you mastered all 11 forms of water, you became even more balanced. Yes, you even managed to master Giyuu's self-developed form Dead Calm. You were truly his Tsuguko and you both got along well, which could be thanked to your similar nature.

But just because the two of you got along didn't mean the other Hashira liked you, because as Tomioka's Tsuguko they had already formed an opinion about you and when you met them, they weren't particularly enthusiastic about you. The worry about having a second Giyuu Tomioka around them who wasn't talking or doing anything with the others seemed very likely. Added to that their presence intimidated you. Your gaze wandered over to each one of them and you could already guess what they were thinking of you, not that it bothered you much, even if the Sound Pillar said out his thoughts.

"You got yourself a Tsuguko that is just as dark and unflashy as you are Tomioka!"

Your gaze wandered to your teacher who didn't reply and this gesture hurt you a little even though you hadn't expected otherwise. There were some comments from the other Hashiras, but you weren't hearing them as your eyes were fixated on the one haori with the flames.

Horrible memories came up and your otherwise calm demeanor crumbled from one second to the next. A terrified whimper was heard and before you could realize it, you knew it was coming from your own mouth. With a quick movement you slapped your hand over it. But it was too late. Everyone had heard it and were now staring at you. Panic and anxiety filled your guts and you saw all the confused faces that exchanged looks between you and the Flame Pillar. Your eyes were searching for a quick exit and you fled so quickly, leaving some confused faces in their wake.

After y/n left the scenery, all eyes were on Rengoku. Sanemi was the first to speak. "What the actual fuck was that?"

"I- I think that she was whimpering...," said Mitsuri hesitantly

"Yeah, we all noticed that"

"But, why?

"It seemed like she was afraid of Rengoku-san"

And with that statement everyone turned to the blond who's smiling gaze didn't wavered., though there was a visible confusion behind his golden eyes. "I have never seen her once in my life! I can't explain to myself why she acted like this!"

There were a few comments, but this issue wasn't worth digging deeper into for the pillars. They just didn't care about y/n. But Rengoku's mind was racing. He just couldn't understand it. He tried to think about why you had reacted to him like that. Was it his looks? He couldn't do anything about it. After all, that's how he was born, and he was also proud of it because it showed him the connection to his ancestors.

Days had passed and he tried his hardest to forget the matter, since he knows that not everyone can like him, but fearing him? And it was pure terror he had seen in y/n eyes that would not let go of him anymore. He even approached Tomioka, tried to learn maybe the reason, but his answer was a simply "I don't know more than you." How was it even possible that he was training everyday with you and not knowing more? Rengoku had to realize that he couldn't let go of that matter and decided to get to the bottom of it.

Wood on wood met, the bokutos collided and you were completely focused on your opponent who was also your teacher until you suddenly saw something yellow in the corner of your eye. "Ouch!" A moment of inattention and you'd already received a hit on your shoulder. You rubbed the hit area and gave your teacher a confused look before looking away at the other person who appeared only to realize it was the Flame Pillar. Your whole body tensed up and you tried to dodge the next punches but got hit after hit. You could feel the bruises forming under your uniform and you kept fighting but you were not able to focus with the Flame Pillar watching you both and Tomioka could sense that too.

"Okay, that is enough training for today," were the words of Tomioka before he left the training ground and left you alone with Rengoku. He was not happy with your today’s progress, just like you, but he left without another comment. Again, your eyes darted around and looked for a quick exit. You gave Rengoku no chance to talk to you. Even if he had patiently waited for you and you were hoping with an anxious heart that he would not come back the next day. But you were so wrong. Rengoku proved himself determined as he came by every day to try to talk to you. And every time you would tense up, not being able to focus. One day you were hit so badly in the face that you saw the stars and you were on the verge of fainting from the pain, your nose wouldn't stop bleeding. You had seen Tomioka look at you with slightly widened eyes, asking if you were okay. You remained silent and your eyes darted immediately to Rengoku who also got up to ask for your well-being. “I-I am good…” Was the only thing you brought out, but the training was over for that day too as you were not able to stop the bleeding of your nose.

Rengoku showed such immense patience that he showed up at every single training session of yours. Much to Tomiokas frustration as you kept getting worse, making no progress at all, but he kept silent until he snapped one day.

“I don't know what your issue with Rengoku-san is, but if you don't sort this in any way out, I will not continue training with you as I see it pointless." Words that hit you hard and before you could even react to it, he was gone. You swallowed down your tears, hoping that it was a joke as your biggest wish was to become a Hashira like him. But it wasn’t

“CAAWW CAAWW! L/N-SAN! YOU ARE NOT GIYUU’S TSUGUKO ANYMORE CAAWW!”

It was as if your entire world had collapsed and the crow of Tomioka was the trigger. He was flying over your head and repeating the words. You'd been spitting blood to get this far and now it should just be over? Like a raging sea it roared in you. You tried to contain your calm exterior, but it was hard when your dreams got shattered like this and the waves of anger twirling inside you like a tsunami. Your hands were shaking, and you vented all your anger at the dummies. Destroyed them until there was nothing left. You didn't know how long you did this until you looked around breathlessly and realized that you just destroyed the whole trainings ground. You panted, sweating from every pore when you suddenly heard his voice, making your anger turn towards him.

“Hello l/n! I see Tomioka-san isn't here yet!” Rengoku was greeting you with his well-known bright smile. Yeah, it was because Tomioka didn’t even had the balls to tell you himself that you weren’t his Tsuguko anymore and only sent this stupid crow of his. But you only said that in your head. You were silent as always, but this time you didn’t run away and Rengoku was mildly surprised when you walked directly towards him. Finally, he thought in the first second, but your intentions were not good. He tensed up in the moment when he saw your eyes filled with anger, your hands ready on your sword.

"You...!" Your voice was sizzling dangerously taking your blue niichirin sword out of your sheath and attacking him in the next second, blind in your rage. For the first time in your life your fear towards him turned into an anger. As if the calm water in your mind turned hot and started to boil. Blue crashed with red and you were face to face. Rengokus face didn't hold his trademark smile anymore as he looked at you in surprise. "L/N! Calm down! Swordsmen are forbidden to fight among one another!” But you didn't care. You were so caught up in your anger and frustration that you didn't know what else to do then letting it out on the man in front of you. You blamed him for your shattered dreams. It was his fault! Why could he not leave simply leave you alone!

What was wrong with her? All the days he'd watched you practice just to exchange a word with you, he'd never seen you like this. He wasn't even sure if it was even possible to see you like this, as calm as you've always been. A calm that resembled Giyuu Tomioka. And he was impressed of your strength, but you needed to stop! “L/N! Stop it right now!” He put all his pressuring aura into his words, but it didn’t work. Your wrath built a wall around you, impossible to break through. That meant he had to find a different approach to having you listen to him and it seemed that there was only one way.

You took a big leap backwards after your blades crossed again and wanted to perform another attack, when you sensed a shift and immediately turning your attack into defense. It was now Rengoku who attacked you. Not to kill you, but more to force you to listen to him. Knowing that you could withstand him, he was not holding back. The attacks were fast and powerful and pushed you to your limits.

Suddenly you stumbled from exhaustion and lack of attention. Thats it, were your thoughts and you closed your eyes, waiting for the pain, but it didn't come. Only a breathless huff when you fell onto something rather… comfortable. Shouldn't the landing have been more painful? It should but Rengoku was able to react quickly that he withdrew his attack in the last moment before hurting you seriously and was even able to catch you in your fall. Unfortunately, he also lost his balance by catching your and you both fell. You on top of him. You opened your eyes just to see his face inches away from yours, hands holding you. You both looked at each other in surprise and if there was any anger left in you then it was gone it that very moment when you stared into his golden eyes that faded to red...

🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥

I hope you enjoyed this so far! If you want to be tagged for the next part just reply down below! Every reblog and like is appreciated 💙

[ginevrapng]

𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆!

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎)

pairing: george weasley x reader, ron weasley x reader

word count: 4.0k words

content warnings: swearing, british idioms and phrases and slang words, chubby coded! reader, reader not specified what house they were in but at one point they had came into the gryffindor common room(not under normal circumstances like to hangout or sleep), no use of y/n but george sometimes calls the reader shortcake (explained in the last part), mentions of violence after a canon quidditch match,

a/n: this chapter has a lot of talking about the past as i wanted to dig deeper into george and the reader's relationship so far, the next chapter will be completely in current time. this chapter still has ron content (i can't get enough of how i've written ron's dynamic with the reader)

summary: you're an honorary member of the weasley family and have been for years, you're one of ron's best friends and are very close. everyone thinks and teases you both that you're dating or have feelings for each other. this muddles up things as george feels guilty about his own feelings.

<< part three | part one >> | masterlist (check out my poll for this chapter)

the next morning, when you wake up, you see ginny next to you, still asleep, you assume hermione is already up and about. luckily you only drank water near the end of the night so you only ended up tipsy, unlikely you're not a teenager anymore so you still had a small hangover. you miss the days of hogwarts parties when you can drink as much as you want and wake up fine and be able to go to class with no issue. tiptoeing around ginny, trying not to wake her up, you remember what happened at the end of the night and groan, hoping it won't be too awkward today with george.

you successfully leave the room without waking ginny up and decide to see if ron is up or not, doubtful that he is. creeping along to ron's room you step over all the places that creak in the house and softly knock on the door. after no answer you open it a crack to see ron still in bed alone in the room. the logical thing to do would be to let him sleep in, after all he did look after you last night, but it's ron so the only option you deem worthy is to throw yourself over him in bed, knowing your tispy self insisted on cuddles last night.

you mischievously grin and close the door behind you before jumping onto the bed with him and waking him up. ron pulls up his covers in shock making you laugh uncontrollably, "ron you're acting like you're a naked women. is there something you want to tell me?"

he tries to push you off the bed and fails miserably, just causing you to laugh more. he grabs hold of your soft frame and pulls you down to him, making you laugh even louder. "why are you waking me up so bloody early? what did i ever do to you?" he grumbles.

your laughter quiets down as you lay together. "i believe you promised me cuddles ronald."

he holds onto your plush waist tighter, maybe this is ron's punishment towards you, to hold you so tight you break something or just pop. "alright, but shut up. i'm going back to sleep." you're about to argue that it's already late and people are downstairs but harry bursts through the door.

"what's this about then?" harry questions you both.

ron chucks a pillow at him, "shove off, harry." you giggle and move under the covers to get comfier in bed, knowing that ron's going to keep you there for awhile.

"i'll see you two lovebirds later." before ron can tell him to piss off again he slams the door shut, definitely drawing attention.

ron readjusts in bed with you still in his arms. "he's bloody annoying." ron mumbles before he closes his eyes again, resting his head against yours, making you feel safe in his arms with your head on his pillows that smell like him. you weren't initially tired when you came into bed with ron, you just wanted to mess with him but now your eyelids are becoming heavy as you drift off to sleep.

hermione can be absolutely terrifying at times as you're rudely awaken when hermione storms into the room, looking annoyed at you both. however ron seems unbothered by the fact, still sleeping, that is until hermione hovers over the bed and shouts at you both. "get up! both of you! i don't want to believe what harry said he walked in on, if he's telling the truth that's entirely inappropriate but you both look awfully cosy together! everyone is downstairs and has already eaten breakfast." after she see's that you've both waken up she leaves. you dread to think what harry's told everyone but at this point you're use to it. you feel better after your nap, you've found out before that you sleep better with ron next to you and you're no longer hungover either.

reluctantly you head downstairs, much preferring to spend the day in bed. the shouts and laughter that fill the living room fade when everyone see's you both and the onslaught of teasing happens. the comments include fred interrogating you about your, in his words, 'precarious position' due to the fact that anyone could have walked in. harry's saying he regrets walking in, and adding that you looked rather comfortable with all your limbs wrapped around each other.

"how do you even sleep next to him? he snores so loud." harry looked at you quizzically, genuinely confused.

you simply reply, "tune him out."

"oi! you snore louder than me."

"lies," you throw your hands at him in mock offence.

"ron's right shortcake." george tells you from the sofa after staying silent for most of the previous teasing.

"how 'd you know?" slightly worried that you snore so loud everyone knows and will make fun of you for it forever.

george grins at you, you've fallen right into his trap. "i can hear you through the walls."

with an amused smile you make your way over to where he's sitting and flick him on the forehead. "hush you." george's heart skips a beat when he sees the smile you direct at him. as you sit down next to george his cheeks warm up and he tries to hide his smile that appeared on his face because you sat next to him, out of everyone you choose him.

george looks over to ron to see his reaction, half of him wanting to make sure ron's okay with the fact you're sitting next to him but the other half, the half that he's more ashamed of, wants to see if ron's noticed, almost as if he wants to see that ron's bothered by it, to rub it in is face and make him jealous. to show him that you've chosen to sit next to him instead of ron or any of the others. so when he does look over at ron and see's him stealing food from the remains of hermione's breakfast, not even glancing at them, he felt a little conflicted.

"what's up george?" you follow his gaze to where ron is, "is he stealing your food again?"

george smirks at you and ruffles your hair, shaking his head. "nope, just seeing what ronniekins' doing." pouting, you tell him to stop messing up your hair while he chuckles and joins the conversation harry and ginny were having. you deflate as you watch him turn his attention onto someone else so flippantly.

the conversation they're having is supposed to be interesting but it's not to you, no matter how hard you try to get into quidditch you just can't. you're not as bad as hermione is with flying and would love the idea of riding on any magical creatures like dragons or hippogriffs but you worry that a broom will break.

george has reassured you plenty of times that there's no way it'll break but at the end of the day it's a stick and sticks break. you love watching them play, even if you worry that they'll get hurt, and you know the basic rules about the game but conversations about quidditch that don't include your friends you tune out. you'd be listening earnestly to the conversation if it was something about harry or ginny but them talking about the chudley cannons doesn't interest you much.

when ron made the team in your fifth year you were ecstatic, more excited than he was. you knew how badly he wanted to be on the team and you were thrilled, yet you always reminded him to be careful before games and even when training, you wouldn't be surprised if he found your nagging highly annoying.

you'll be able to focus on quidditch conversations if they speak with a lot of passion but right now they're not, you've just woken up and it sounds dull. maybe the conversation will change soon, or maybe molly will come in and interrupt, saving you from listening, and tell everyone they have a job to do or how she's going into town and she's going to ask if anyone wants to come, or maybe ron will start arguing with everyone about how great the chudley cannons are. when your friends passionately talk about something you listen but it's a boring monotonous conversation currently. you love hearing your friends talk passionately about their lives and their interests it's how you're so good at giving everyone presents.

like when harry animatedly told you all about his first christmas at hogwarts, about how he received the invisibility cloak and all the contents in his wizarding cracker. one of those things including a wizard's chess set that was later unfortunately broken and couldn't, at the time, be repaired. so that christmas you brought him a wizard's chess set of his own as he had been using ron's up until that point.

for hermione's birthday one year you gave her a first edition copy of hogwarts: a history. it's always been her favourite book since the first year of hogwarts and she often rereads it. throughout your school years together she retold information to you even when it had very little relevance. you knew how much she loved that book and had been trying to find someone with a signed copy that will sell it to you. after bathilda bagshot died you looked everywhere trying to find any signed copy. you were tempted at the time to ask someone else to sign it, someone that she looks up to like mcgonagall but that was a fleeting thought as you didn't think that idea made much sense. so your plan was to keep on the look out for any copies.

you stumbled on something better one day though while browsing an old bookshop in knockturn alley. you occasionally go there for things you need and you dread to think what would happen if ron found out, even worse molly, they'd insist it's too dangerous and never let you go again, especially on your own.

when flourish and blott's don't have the book you need you know where to go, even if sometimes you have to grab your wand a little tighter to feel safe or that if anyone saw you there they'd be asking serious questions and questioning you on dark magic. however, it's a good thing you do visit having found the first edition copy you had gifted her. you would've haggled the price down a bit after knowing the shopkeeper for so long but the situation was too good even if it was pricey, it's not everyday you come across a first edition copy of such a well known book.

you were probably most proud of the gift you got for george one year. when the whole situation of malfoy insulting the twins cleansweep brooms escalated to insulting the whole weasley family and harry's parents came to a head it wrecked everyone involved (excluding malfoy). the twins and harry had their brooms confiscated due to the fight between them and malfoy.

what made him even more mad was the fact that you were there to witness it happen. george thought maybe it would've been better if you were there to hear exactly what malfoy said but all you saw from the crowd was george and harry punching malfoy repeatedly.

he didn't want to scare you and maybe if you heard what came out of malfoy's mouth you'd think what george did was valid. that's what he had thought until you came barging into the gryffindor common room unannounced, looking absolutely furious screaming about what a fucking arse malfoy is. "do you even know what he said?" angelina asked at the time, knowing that word got around of the fight but not knowing if people knew exactly what happened.

"no but i know it was bloody well something to make everybody that angry!" george couldn't help but smile at that, he'd been so tense and frustrated since it's happened but then you come in and make it all better, getting angry on everyone's behalf and you don't even know what happened. that was when george fell more in love with you then he already was and he didn't think that was possible.

the twins later took their brooms back. they were known for breaking into offices, they should've been kept somewhere more secure if they knew anything about the twins reputation. they took back their brooms and left the school in classic weasley twin style. despite getting their brooms back the incident took a hit on george's confidence. malfoy insulted his entire family and he was so enraged about it.

after the twins left the school year early it was incredibly quiet without them but in the summer it was hectic with them causing even more trouble than normal. one of the hotter days you and george spent the day together inside. everyone was outside playing quidditch but george wanted to stay with you, he told you that he was too tired to play but really he just used that as an excuse to be with you. arthur was at work and molly was in the kitchen, hermione was even outside reading near everyone but you and george stayed in and talked all day. he told you everything about the fight with malfoy, he tried to make jokes and make it seem like not a big deal but you could tell otherwise. even though he was grinning the smile didn't reach his eyes, even though he was making jokes they had a hint of insecurity behind them.

you didn't mention it, you didn't want him to feel put on the spot, but you rested your hand on his arm in comfort and sat closer to him. yes it was incredibly hot at the time but neither of you wanted to move away. he spoke about his broom and about how he won the match even with his broom, behind his words you can tell he held some kind of resentment. he's an excellent beater, better than fred and he should be proud to have won that game, malfoy's ruined it by the aftermath and it's tarnished by all the hateful words malfoy said.

the week after you had brought him a broom. afterwards when you left dervish and banges you realised that you only brought one for george and not for fred and started panicking because there was no holiday coming up, you just wanted to give him a new broom, hoping he would like it but then you didn't get one for fred. your feelings for george at that moment overshadowed any logical part of your brain that told you that you should probably think this through and rethink your purchase instead getting two cheaper ones.

after calming down you had a whole speech prepared in your mind to fred about how sorry you were for not getting him one. making excuses like how fred didn't actually punch malfoy, only harry and george did and harry doesn't need a new broom. other excuses you threw out the window thinking they sounded too harsh, george is a better player then you so he needs a better broom or george is more likely to keep playing now after you've left hogwarts then you will because he's better. after those failed excuses in your head you had scolded yourself on the obvious unintentional favouritism, definitely giving yourself away every time you mention how much better george is. you love fred, you do, but george is george.

coming back to the burrow was somewhat of a spectacle, having to deal with both the twins. fred was the first person you saw and the confusion on his face was evident when he saw you holding a broom, something that you'd never do as he knows you don't trust them. he raised his brow in confusion.

"before you start it's not for you freddie. it's for george." there's a pause as you try to sort out your thoughts and fred smirks. "after what happened with malfoy i thought he could use a new broom. i mean- i mean he was the one who got physical with him and i know harry did too but his broom is already new and i can't afford to get him an even more expensive one."

"woah that's quite the excuse." he joked while smirking.

you cross your arms over your chest, "it's not an excuse, it's just the truth."

"yeah, yeah." he spoke, dismissively. "just know i'm never letting this go."

you rolled your eyes as the hairs on your arm stood up, you had a feeling he was telling the truth. "where's george?" having hoped to run away from the conversation as quick as you can so that fred didn't figure out your romantic sentiment towards george.

he directed you upstairs to their room with a shit-eating grin on his face. you had vowed to blow fred away with an amazing present for christmas but after that interaction you had you were thinking otherwise. (in the end you still did get him a very thought out gift that he thoroughly liked.)

you had knocked on the door, waiting patiently for an answer. george tells you to come in, and his eyes widen in surprise momentarily before he quickly schools his expression because this is the first time you've ever entered his room and you just remembered the same thing as you get distracted about why you're here and instead start taking in the room.

glancing around the room you could see boxes everywhere. cardbox boxes that were taped up with the edges bent and marginally destroyed. fred and george were storing so many products it's a surprise they even had room for their beds. there was a smell that lingered in the air, like gunpowder and cosmetic sprays to try and cover up the scent. you were unfazed by the scene, you would have been more in shock if you walked in and it was a 'normal' room. the smell in the air was making you woozy and flushed as you discovered this is why george almost always smells faintly of gunpowder and you started to find it hard to concentrate being so close to it.

"this is a surprise shortcake, what are you doing in my humble abode?" he inquired, in the process snapping you out of your thoughts. he didn't want you to judge him for what his room looked like, he knew you never would though.

"you know humble abode normally refers to a house?"

"deflecting the question." he sits down on the bed.

having hid the broom behind your back since you knocked, "i brought you something." you tried to answer and sound confident but you know that your voice trembled, you're nervous and you're suddenly liking the floor more than making eye contact with george.

"oh really?" he grinned but his stomach was going crazy and flipping about while his heart bursts out of his chest. you got him something, you, for him. his palms were sweaty and he tried to subtly rub his hands against his trousers.

"i know how shit you've been feeling about malfoy so i-" you found it hard to speak, worried about george's reaction. going closer to the bed you struggled to find the words but reach behind yourself and gave him the broom.

"shortcake, i'm... i- is this a broom?" he knew the response.

you bashfully nodded your head, losing the ability to talk with a dry throat and gently sat on the bed with george but put some distance between the two of you.

you start rambling, "it's um, a- a comet 290. i don't know a lot about quidditch, which you know, but this one looked fancy and it was one of the newer ones that i could afford. i probably should of asked someone's opinion before buying but i hope this one is okay."

"i love it," george whispers, you had never heard him speak so softly to you. sometimes he'll talk gently to you but never like this, never sounding so genuine.

george is so hopelessly and helplessly in love and he was holding on to a very thin thread trying to control himself to stay away from you because all he wanted to do is press his lips against yours, kissing you until you're both gasping for air. your lips always look so soft, he wondered what they'd feel like against his. he wanted to beg you to give him a chance, he'll make you feel beautiful, that you'd be perfect together. the comet 290 is the best gift anyone had ever given him and he's treasured it for years.

currently after that terribly long conversation about quidditch you wish someone could save you from, you decide to save yourself and go find molly. george noticed you leave but assumed you'd be back. you find her in the scullery, washing clothes.

"is there any jobs you need me to do molly?"

"no dear, you sit down and relax."

you're so close to begging and telling her that you just want to get out of listening about quidditch.

"i'll do anything molly. please let me, i woke up so late this morning and couldn't help you tidy up."

she stays silent for a second and then turns to you, "the garden does need de-gnoming at some point."

"yes!" you respond more enthusiastic then considered appropriate before correcting yourself, "yes, molly. i'll get right on it."

"get help from some of the others dear, i don't want you doing it on your own."

[emporer-of-chaos]

another swap au design whooo i still cant draw sir Pentious and I ain't letting that stop me

This swap was decided by y'all in this poll and I'm gonna be honest when I put it as an option I had no idea how I was gonna make it work and honestly I still only have like half an idea but that ain't stopping me. In my role swap au I usually try to keep their backstories and personalities as similar to canon as possible while tweaking just enough to make their new role in the store make sense for these two I found that that approach just wasn't feasible. So in this Au Sir Pentious was created as an angel and has lived his entire life in heaven he still has some minor trust issues mostly because even before the heavens meeting where he learns about the extermination he notices some things not adding up but questioning heaven is not something he would do as such those questions and suspicions are left festering under the surface which might lead to his fall in the future :) I leaned a lot more into the "flaming snake" depiction of a seraphim along with giving him wings becouse the boy deserves wings. Emily on the other hand is a regular sinner dieing in the late 19th century like sir Pentious and being an inventor like him. Like her canon counterpart I think Emily is still good natured and goofy getting sent to hell because while she genuinely wanted to help people her ignorance and naivety led to a lot of her inventions hurting and even killing people. She wants to become a strong overlord so she can transform the place for her idea of the better not noticing how her methods are hurting people and further cementing her place down there. Her redemption would be mostly about her connecting with the residents of the hotel learning their stories and realising how wrong her perception of hell and the greater good was. She would also play into Vaggies ark of learning to open up and trust others along with learning to actually help the citizens of help become better people instead of forcing them into strict moulds she believes to be the best for them due to her preception of hell as former angel. I actually had a lot of fun with Emily's design and while i'm still not feeling so great (why I didn't sketch out any scenes with these two goofballs I will do so when I have the energy) I'm doing a lot better and will probably be back soon. I have also been thinking about turning my swap au into a comic what do y'all think?

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[pbnmj]

Genuinely curious, what’s up with Noir’s age? And what does it have to do with his 08/09 run? ((You may ignore if you wish :D))

i no longer have to do an extremely long explaination about comics noir because it has already been done here, by foolsocracy!!!!!!! really great breakdown of his very vague age, which is never said outright in the 08-09 run, only implied!! my own personal take on this is that he's 17-turning-18 in the first one, just about graduated high school but not able to afford college (see the panel below LOL)

this also got a little longer than i thought it would, so under the cut for the rest of it! the tl:dr is "itsv!noir is not the same as comics!noir, and people saying that he's 19 isn't strictly true. to me, he's around 30!"

eyes without a face (the 09 run!!) only takes place 8 months after, in september 1933, which makes peter 18-turning-19. this is more of a headcanon though!! (see the noir birthday poll, which made me a noir-is-a-december-baby truther)

(peter being a libra is mentioned once in the first issue of amazing spider-man (2015), mostly as a punchline, and a specific date of october 10th was given in another issue that i have lost. other media, like with the mcu, has his birthday on august 10th. but to me noir is a sagittarius and you cannot pry that from me)

the 2020 run of noir begins establishing the year as 1939, making peter around his mid-20s, and 25 if you believe me on the 'peter was 17 in noir 2008' LOL.... i won't lie though i haven't read this one properly i very quickly skimmed so pinch of salt regarding my takes on the 2020 run

noir being in his teens during the first original runs is why "itsv!noir is 17-19" goes around so often! i've seen that on tumblr, twitter AND on tiktok and i don't mind what people hc, but it has become a pet peeve when people say it like its canon even though it's never been mentioned by the writers or the art book. itsv!noir is similar to his comic counterpart, but his differences in his origin story make me interpret him as a different noir (like how peter b.'s dimension is 616B, making him... 90214B?)

again, we are straying from itsv canon/etc here because i'm deranged, but i personally hc noir as being 32! some of my friends think he's in his mid-20s, others think he's older, but really the only reason is that 32 is the midpoint between the other two peter parkers: ripeter was 26 and peter b is 38. he's also voiced by nic cage, which makes me think older in the first place!

i just like the idea that he's more experienced that ripeter, but hasn't gone through as much as peter b. he spends most of the movie being broody ("moral ambiguity of your actions!", "matches burn down to my fingertips", etc etc), or snarkier than you'd expect ("it's that easy" "who are you again?" "you gonna fight or are you just bumping gums" etc etc). he also very sweetly tells everyone that he loves them before he leaves !!! i feel like it can in fact be in character for a peter parker in his late 20-early 30s, distanced from his tragedies in his own world by time (he doesn't forget them, that's different !) being able to look out for the spiders around him.

okay now we are VERY deep into hc territory, but it makes him able to balance out the rest of the itsv spider-gang as an older-brother figure who's able to guide peni, miles and gwen but also be able to act as a voice of reason for peter b. and ham if the sitauation calls for it. that being said noir is still peter parker and is therefore capable of spider-esque tomfoolery, which can lead to him misjudging the need for a snarky one liner ("this is a pretty hard core origin story"). my characterisation of him is also very inspired by heyitsspiderman, the itsv fic that changed me for the better, and noir isn't even in it that much LOL

veering back into itsv!noir's age and your actual question though: he's always read older in the movies, and not at all 17-19. noir is always going to be around 30 (32 if i have to give a number) to me!! if anything, he did go through the same kind of 'canon events' as comics noir did, but is an older and more experienced version of him, with tweaks to the backstory (like a radioactive spider instead of a spider-god, and webshooters instead of organic webbing). there are reasons ofc to see him being younger (egg creams are non-alcoholic, and that if it's 1933, his comicsverse self would be 18-19 too) . however you must consider that sony didn't expand on this and therefore it's up to fan interpretation and also that

[mariacallous]

I am bad at small talk, so I went in big. “You are probably going to be the social democratic leader with the largest parliamentary majority anywhere on Earth. How does it feel?” I said to Keir Starmer during a private meeting with him and a few advisors in late 2022.

Starmer’s aides looked annoyed, while the likely next prime minister of the United Kingdom paused and tried to deflect: “We can’t take anything for granted,” which has become the unofficial motto for Labour’s general election campaign.

Yet despite Starmer’s hesitancy to bank success—he is genuinely a modest man—it is likely that on the morning of July 5, Starmer will wake up as the world’s social democratic superhero: the only center-left leader of a major economy with a parliamentary supermajority and the great hope for progressives all over the world.

The governing Conservative Party, which is historically arguably the most successful political party on Earth, now faces electoral oblivion. In 2019, Boris Johnson demolished Labour’s heartlands, the so-called red wall. Labour had become detached from its base and collapsed in its postindustrial heartlands after then-leader Jeremy Corbyn embraced the siren sounds of political extremism; he refused to sing the national anthem at a memorial for the Battle of Britain and drove the party toward a position of fiscal incontinence that scared anyone with financial assets.

Five years later, Labour is on track not only to regain the red wall but also to achieve a dream of progressives by taking solid Conservative seats in their blue wall of affluent commuter constituencies surrounding London and rural seats that have voted Conservative since time immemorial. (East Worthing and Shoreham, for example, is part of a constituency that first voted Tory in 1780 and has been reliably Tory since. Polls suggest Labour is on track to take the seat.)

What is happening in the U.K. is unusual for center-left parties, to put it mildly. Labour could gain as many as 70 percent of seats in the House of Commons—a victory that could surpass even the electoral landside of former Labour Prime Minister Tony Blair in 1997, offering lessons for progressives everywhere. A politically dominant Starmer will attend the G-7 as a leader in total political control, in stark contrast to his counterparts in France and Germany, Emmanuel Macron and Olaf Scholz, who are facing high disapproval ratings and struggling to pursue their governing agendas.

Labour’s victory in the U.K. will be important in three key regards: It will recast how progressives can win national elections and set a high-water mark for what social democrats can achieve; it will reshape British politics in new and unexpected ways that could be more important than the victory itself; and it will flip external perceptions of the U.K., resetting international views of the country and its future.

Despite the pathological obsession Britain’s political class has with America’s, it is perhaps time for Democrats in the United States to look across the pond and glean some lessons from Labour’s success.

Part of Starmer’s success has been to take an oath of omertà on culture war issues, much as the Australian Labor Party did. These include transgender rights, Britain’s colonial past, and immigration—all issues that the British right has tried to capitalize on. Starmer, a former human rights lawyer, has committed to scrap the Tories’ controversial Rwanda deportation scheme but on the grounds of practicality rather than as a wider moral statement. More broadly on immigration, the party has been treading very carefully. This is certainly not brave, but it has worked. For all the attempts to fire up the culture wars in this election, Labour has remained focused on the prize.

While the Conservatives have attempted to stoke a culture war, what remains more salient for voters in the U.K. is the perceived corruption and rule-breaking of leading Conservatives, culminating in the current scandal involving elected officials using insider information to bet on the election date.

Scandals including preferential contracts for protective equipment for the National Health Service (NHS) during the COVID-19 pandemic, where an astonishing 4 billion pounds ($5 billion) worth of faulty equipment was procured (some allegedly from companies with links to the ruling party). Then came “Partygate,” in which Johnson and current Prime Minister Rishi Sunak were fined by police for breaking COVID-era laws. A lobbying scandal involving another former prime minister, David Cameron, also caused significant public anger. Elite rule-breaking has cut through with voters in a way that the endless culture wars simply haven’t.

In parallel, Labour has pivoted from a form of identity politics under Corbyn to a very proactive position on class. Starmer has put his humble upbringing center stage in the U.K. election campaign and has spoken authentically about the “class ceiling” in British society. This has particular resonance as Starmer is running against Sunak, whose net wealth of $822 million makes him the richest leader of any democracy.

A typical Starmer set-piece homily is as follows:

“My dad was a toolmaker, he worked in a factory, and my mum was a nurse. We didn’t have a lot when we were growing up. Like millions of working-class children now, I grew up in a cost-of-living crisis. I know what it feels like to be embarrassed to bring your mates home because the carpet is threadbare and the windows cracked. … I was actually responsible for that as I put the football through it.”

This focus on class is unusual in modern British politics. Indeed, recent Labour leaders—from Blair to Gordon Brown to Ed Miliband to Corbyn—were all in different ways outsiders to the British working class: Blair and Corbyn for their relatively affluent (and privately educated) upbringings, Brown and Miliband because of their middle-class backgrounds and partly because Miliband’s father was one of the country’s most notable Marxist academics. As for the Conservatives, the days of a prime minister who was a grocer’s daughter are long gone. Cameron and Johnson didn’t just attend the same elite private school (Eton) two years apart; they went to the same university (Oxford) and were members of the same private dining club (for the most privileged).

Starmer is leaning into class politics—and it is working. The promise to impose the same value-added tax on private school fees that is applied to most goods and services (20 percent) has led to an outpouring of anger from the often very wealthy 6 percent of U.K. parents who send their kids to private schools—usefully, those who are privately educated often tend to vote Conservative. Labour’s pledge to use the private school tax revenues to invest in education for the 94 percent of kids in state schools has, on the other hand, drawn support from ordinary voters.

This focus on class has won back a group of voters who in other countries have now been captured by the right and far right. Labour now leads among working-class voters with 38-42 percent of the vote share, in contrast to Conservatives’ 22-24 percent. For those with the fewest educational qualifications, Labour leads in every age category except the over-50s.

One of the architects of Labour’s reengagement with the British working class is Angela Rayner, who is on track to become deputy prime minister. Rayner is working-class, was a mother at 16, and a grandmother at 37. Opinionated and unfiltered, an unapologetic smoker who enjoys a strong drink, she worked in a care home before rising quickly through the trade union movement and becoming a Labour candidate. Rayner’s story is a masterclass in how to elevate remarkable people into parliamentary politics. Her success is her own, but the unions cultivated her, and the membership backed her as deputy leader. She has real star power—and there is virtually no one like her in the upper echelons of the Democratic establishment in the United States.

Remarkably, the class dimension has not, it seems, alienated middle England. Disillusioned surbubanites and centrist liberals have been turned off by a Conservative Party that seems increasingly radical and dysfunctional. Starmer’s former career as the country’s chief prosecutor, and his knighthood—he is formally referred to as “Sir Keir”—have given him broad appeal, just as the Conservatives’ unapologetic embrace of the populist right’s pet causes has cratered their support.

Part of Labour’s success is due to the systemic clusterfuck that has been the last few years of the Conservative government. The Tories have foisted five prime ministers on the public since 2010—four of them elected by the party’s mostly white, male membership of about 170,000 rather than the public at large. Economic growth is anemic; there are nearly 8 million people on the NHS waiting list in England alone (in a country where the use of private medical care is uncommon); and essential public services including the prison service and local government are on the edge of systemic failure.

Yet signs exist that there may be more fundamental shifts at play. Labour leads in every age group except the over-65s. If you work, you are more likely to vote Labour; 45 percent of voters under 45 are likely to vote Labour, compared with only 1 in 10 backing the Conservative Party. Millennials will become the largest voting bloc in the U.K. in this election. Their key issues include policies to prevent catastrophic climate change (which poll well across the U.K. political spectrum), the building of homes, better transport links (especially for non-car owners, many urban millennials among them), and pro-family policies. All of these have come into play in this election.

Older homeowners across the Western world have been successful in running what is, potentially, the world’s largest cartel—by opposing construction of new homes for millennials. Labour is committed to ending that in the U.K. with a significant loosening of planning regulations that currently thwart sustainable development.

While the party has ruled out taxes on working people, no such commitment has been made on unearned income, leading to widespread speculation that the tax system may be rebalanced with higher capital gains taxes and fewer loopholes for the megarich, including for the landed gentry whose farming estates pass between generations tax-free. Labour has no love for landlords either. After nearly two decades in which London’s property market has been inflated by speculative investments from the world’s kleptocrats, the public appetite for new restrictions on foreign property ownership or new taxes has grown.

Labour has also surrounded itself with a technocratic positivist elite. This group includes Labour Together, an ambitious intellectual think tank closely aligned with Starmer’s inner circle, and the Tony Blair Institute, which has embraced a techno-futurism aligned with the country’s comparative advantage in the life sciences and artificial intelligence. Public sector reform under a Starmer government could be significant if one imagines the potential, for example, of using the NHS’s treasure trove of data (on 70 million people) to drive innovation in health care.

In stark contrast to Labour’s focus on the future, an aging right-wing voter base is now split between the Conservative Party and Reform, a vehicle that is a mix between a private company, a political party, and a personal platform for Nigel Farage—the pro-Brexit politician Donald Trump has trotted out as a posh Anglo stage prop. Conservatives in Parliament are already moving rightward. Tory MPs give statements to the media condemning the European Convention on Human Rights, a document co-drafted by David Maxwell-Fyfe—a Conservative MP and prosecutor of Nazis at Nuremberg—that was inspired by Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s vision for postwar Europe.

Meanwhile, a wing of Conservative MPs are already attempting to cast the almost certain defeat as evidence that the party did not pivot enough to the populist right. The divided right is making the admission of the controversial Farage into the Conservative Party a real possibility, a prospect that fills Labour with glee. Needless to say, the next Conservative leader is unlikely to be a moderate. With the party tacking to the right, it could soon become a vessel for Faragism and a weak British version of the Trump movement.

Finally, there are the vibes. A progressive recasting of British politics will shift narratives around the U.K. National narratives can flip in an instant: Think of foreigners’ perceptions of the United States from Barack Obama to Trump or the assumption of Chinese economic primacy to a sense of retrenchment and decline under Xi Jinping. The U.K. in recent memory was seen as a fairly stable, politically dull island anchored somewhere in the mid-Atlantic. Brexit, Johnson, and Liz Truss put an end to that. With the shift from perceived and actual chaos and an insurgent right to a progressive supermajority, attitudes will likely shift again.

Vibes are important, especially to the economy of the U.K., which may have ceased to be a traditional superpower but remains a cultural one punching significantly above its weight internationally. Six percent of U.K. GDP comes from the creative industries—from the success of British music to the Premier League, a booming film and TV industry, fashion, and the arts. That’s double the level of Germany and larger than the contribution of the German car industry to the country’s output (4.5 percent). For a country that trades on vibes and is reliant on the export of its creativity, Brexit and isolation have caused real damage.

It’s long forgotten now, but during the last Labour government from 1997 until the 2008 financial crisis, the U.K. was the fastest-growing economy in the G-7, faster than that of the Clinton- and Bush-era United States. Given the country’s currently stagnant economy, the next Parliament will be more challenging, but in a highly open society, the role of consumer confidence and investor confidence cannot be underestimated.

In a previous piece in these pages, after Labour’s historic loss in the 2019 general election, I wrote: “Radical leftism is not a drug you can take as a party and return to normal the next morning.” I was right about the election but wrong about the next morning.

No one expected Labour to turn a historic defeat into a historic victory in just five years. The circumstances the Conservative Party faced were extraordinary, but Starmer has shown that tight party management, a focus on voters and not ideology, and a sprinkling of class-based politics can reinvigorate social democratic politics.

What lessons does this hold for other center-left parties?

First, culture war issues aren’t a central motivation for most voters. On all the major culture war issues, Labour holds a less popular position than the Conservative Party. Yet when mortgage rates have risen from 2 to 5 percent, “it’s the economy, stupid.” Progressives don’t need to fear the charge of the populist right; they need smarter answers.

Second, rule-breaking or perceived corruption is a powerful motivator for voters, and global polling proves this. Progressives need a stronger line on conflicts of interest, corporate lobbying, the kleptocratic buy-up of the finest properties in the world’s global cities, and tackling emerging monopolies that exist due to political capture. Doing so counters the populist right head-on.

Third, the dominance of identity politics in left-wing online spaces is not matched by public understanding of or interest in this form of politics. Class is understood, whereas intersectionality isn’t. Class may, or may not, be the most relevant dividing line for progressives in different places—but for progressives to win, they need messengers who are from outside the upper middle class and have lived experience that resonates with people who feel disenchanted and left behind. In other words, Democrats in the United States need an Angela Rayner.

Most critically, once in power, social democrats do not have the luxury of time. Crumbling infrastructure, failing public services, falling living standards, and a lack of housing all point to direct state intervention on a scale not seen since the late 1960s Great Society programs in the United States and similar policies during that era in the U.K. Unless progressives can deliver, it will be challenged further by a populist right that is gaining momentum.

U.S. President Joe Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act has been the talk of London and Brussels for progressives, and Biden deserves more credit for his boldness. With a supermajority, Starmer has the scope for even bolder programs. A progressive U.K. government will not only reset Europeans’ views of the country, but if successful, it can aid progressive arguments within Europe that austerity and fiscalization do not generate economic growth or social stability.

Starmer’s victory will give global social democrats a high-water mark for electoral success in a wealthy democracy. The challenge for Starmer is the incredible weight of hope in an era of polycrisis. If Labour succeeds in delivering growth, building homes, and raising wages, then it will provide a blueprint that can—and should—be copied elsewhere.

[burning-sol]

VOTE FOR THE WIGHT AS BONEZ AU @battle-of-the-jrwi-aus !!

The following is an up to date summation of my work, though I tag all relevant posts #jrwi wight as bonez! This is scheduled to publish (if queued correctly) before the poll is posted APR 15th. Thanks for your understanding!

Summary: The Wight as Bonez AU is an expansion of the PD Villain one-shot, featuring its own cast of heroes to face off against our heroes turned evil!!

The Heroes: Ram, J.J and Michel are a band of heroes who have a lot to live up to, and most the adults in their life aren't open to giving them the chance. Ram is a mysterious fellow from another world - claiming it was "on the brink of destruction" before they left, though they express an unwavering faith in their idols to have resolved the issue!! Jacey Jetty is an ordinary high school girl, who just happens to be an ass kicking robot on the side. Heroes aren't born, they're made!! So who better to be a hero of Prime? Mycelium Miller has mushroom powers!! I'm sure that won't be important!!

What will our heroes do when confronted by villains ranging from tragic to tragic and evil?? Who knows!!

Vyncent Sol: Following the jail break of the one-shot, Vyncent ends up separated from Wight, though the effects of her powers linger. Vyncent is left facing the world on their lonesome as they switch between their "good" side and their "evil" side, afflicted with this sickness all while on a timer to return to his own world and save the Greats. Anxious and fearful, they feel Wight constantly looming over them and smiling mockingly, in control.

Vyncent joins up with the heroes, who agree to assist him, much to the excitement of Ram. This excitement is misplaced as during a confrontation with William Wight, Vyncent loses control over themselves and hurts one of the heroes, leaving Ram devastated and the rest of the party resentful. Vyncent runs away once again, facing the world scared and alone (though he is less alone than he thinks he is).

[NIGHTCORE - Control]

Ashe Winters: Ashe Winters has been missing for several years, suddenly reappearing in Prime and stumbling back into the home of his father much to the confusion and relief of all parties. Ashe attempts to resettle into his childhood home, but he feels the absence of his mother strongly. His memories start to flood back into his mind - of his mother's death, of the spells he tried to bring her back, of his subsequent possession, of the "Spirit World"... Ashe Winters once again disappears, leaving a note for his father.

[. . .] Ashe Winters has been seen involved in multiple villain heists, though his appearances are scattered and his goals allusive. He seems to have a larger goal in mind, and is far more powerful than most villains he surrounds himself with. It's only when it's already too late to stop him that his plans become clear.

It may as well be the end of the world. A portal between the living world and the spirit world is opened up, and Ashe reveals that he refuses to close it until all the undead of the spirit world are made alive again. Leaving much damage in his wake, Ashe Winters is thankfully stopped and arrested, though he would later be released and Wavelength would retire from being a hero to live a quiet life finally reunited with his son.

[NIGHTCORE - Time of Dying]

[Understanding - Black Dresses]

Kota Kill: KOTA KILL WAS SHOT INTO SPACE AND PRESUMED TO NO LONGER BE AN ISSUE. YEARS LATER HE HAS RETURNED AND NOT EVEN HE IS SURE ABOUT WHAT HE WANTS...

[NIGHTCORE - Heads Will Roll]

William Wight:

William Wisp had killed the monster in the woods. It had chased him to the ends of the earth and off the edge, but now he watched it burn in hellish retribution. His feet didn’t touch the ground where its skin stretched across the ground like a canvas and its own bones were used as wooden stakes that pinned its remains, and it fed the flames, red bleeding into blue. The surrounding forest was cast in shadows, and he knew in those shadows there were more monsters, and he saw what needed to be done. William had taken on an unimaginable burden, but he knew when he was out of the woods, he would be greeted by a Deadwood relieved of its troubles. But there was no end to the woods. All he ever saw were thick trees with people standing between them and him and the monsters and the truth.

“You’re not William, William would never do this. You must be possessed.”

The monsters burnt Deadwood to the ground, the monsters that had always resided in Deadwood, the monsters he had seen but had turned a blind eye to. He tried to leave but there was no end to the woods, and the forest fire RAGED.. William Wisp was engulfed in flames, and he found, to his horror, that he had possessed his own dead body. But looking at the road ahead, wooden stakes lining either side and red flames reaching for the sky, he saw what needed to be done.

Deadwood was a small town with dark mysteries and monsters in the shadows, but that changed the day William Wisp died. Chased off a cliff to his death, he came back wrong, and he did wrong thinking that is might make the world right. Killing all the monsters of the town, he expected his friends to be on his side.. But they weren't, and he was left to realise that maybe- MAYBE the people of this town were the real monsters, to have SIDED with them.. Deadwood broke into a horrible hysteria and was engulfed in fire, William stumbling out of the red flames a walking corpse.

The heroes couldn't see the good in what she'd done either. The world was just full of monsters, monsters ALL the way down, ready to turn on her for doing what needed to be done and saying what was true about the world. HUMANITY IS FULL OF MONSTERS. Wight was thrown in jail, though her sibling had the good grace to visit. He asked her why she did what she did, why she burned Deadwood to the ground, but he didn't like the answer. He turned and left her to ROT, and she did NOT forget.

What does Wight want? She wants everyone to see they're the monsters, THEY'RE the monsters. She wants to burn the world down, she wants to watch the monsters BURN. William Wight sows chaos wherever she treads, infecting the world with her perception of it, and she will NOT stop.

Horrible issues arise when it's revealed that William Wight is the Wisperer turned cannibalistic!! Eating souls, she grows in power, and eating away the Spirit World, she threatens to destroy everything!!

[NIGHTCORE - Animal I Have Become]

villain au wight and ashe showing major disrespect to the spirit world. "there needs to be balance u cant just do what u want" well maybe the spirit world is stupid. - Nov 5th, 2023

Ashe and Wight meet REAL!! NOT CLICKBAIT!! ft. ME as their voice actors.

END OF POST!! Vote 4 the Wight as Bonez AU!! <3

[duckies27]

My boys lost the poll and therefore you will get hurt/comfort to mourn

Spoilers for Season 2!!

Trigger warning for PTSD attacks, death, guilt, mentions of jail time, and overall issues with recovery

It was early in the morning and Normal still hadn't stopped shaking. Taylor and him had been married for only a few months, he still didn't know how nasty these attacks could get. He was just so broken, so violently broken. No way for him to know, no way they can talk this through. Taylor was finally clean, he was finally free from all three monitors and the officers. Why drag him back down?

His eyes looked over to his sleeping husband. Taylor resting with his tail switching and horns resting against the pillow. He seemed so peaceful. So happy. Normal pushed himself off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Looking in his reflection he just saw an empty man. The only scars he was proud of were the top surgery ones. Others were just painful reminders.

Every failed attack, every bad heal, every mistake. The failure of a man, who's own father isn't proud of him unless he saves the damn world. He ruffles his hair, messy curls falling around his cheeks. "I...I look like my father, I should get a hair cut." He mumbled, going through the normal routine. Make sure all the scars were still closed, all the new nicks and scratches from his clumsy behavior weren't anything serious enough to warrant a healing spell. As he moved his hand to check his horribly scarred cheek from the flame walls that almost took him down, his eyes glanced at his wedding ring. Instead of diamond, it was made of obsidian. Taylor insisted, have a piece of hell with him. Be together always. He turned from the mirror, rubbing the stone softly. His mind went to Taylor's vows, their wedding day.

"I promise to love you through the good and the bad. Through the heavens and the hells. When we got married in space, I didn't really mean it. I mean it now. I want to be your husband, I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine."

He weakly sighed, tears pricking at his eyes. "He has to be lying, right? At least a little, no way he would take all of this-" he motioned down to himself, almost to an invisible camera. "I'm more than just a little broken, I'm a whole bag of shattered glass waiting to burst out!" He sat down and hugged himself tightly. Single tears turned into rushing waterfalls. He couldn't stop crying, everything quickly came back, all of it rushing back. Lark's angry cries after he let out that thing, code purple, Sparrow's eyes as he said he wasn't proud, Willy, Hermie's death, the battle in hell, both times falling unconscious, the last battle, years alone and struggling. Even therapy could only do so much.

Taylor shifted awake to an empty bed. A cold, empty bed. He sat up, his tail swishing. "Norm?"

No response. He sighed, getting up. Maybe he left, maybe he was in his office. Grabbing his cane, he carefully fumbled to his feet. Lately his hip had been worse, maybe because he was up and about more. It was hard to explain how strange things had become as of late. Normal and him dated for 2 years, and then he suddenly proposed. Cut a few weeks later and they were wed! Yet they were so separate. Normal was quiet the majority of the time, he kept to himself. He normally smiled most after work, but it would fade after a few hours. It has taken him this long to just get Normal to actually sleep in the same bed as him. It was as if he was afraid.

Who could blame him? After his high school crush was shot, then brought back, then disintegrated right in front of his eyes. The rest of his high school career was miserable. He hated everything, he hated the people, he hated the world. Before the reunion, he literally didn't talk to anyone. He shut off, he shut down. Then again, so did Taylor. Jailed in 3 separate dimensions isn't easy. Thankfully Nick pulled some strings and got him working instead of on house arrest, saved his life.

After a moment of thought, he carefully started moving out of the bedroom to take a quick check around the apartment. The only light on was the bathroom, and he could hear heavy sobbing on the other side. "Normal?"

The sobbing stopped for nearly a moment, almost hoping he would leave, before resuming. Once you start, it's hard to stop. Taylor carefully sat on the other side of the door. "You don't have to talk to me but I'm here. I married you for a reason, I love the good and the bad." He set his cane down, twiddling his thumbs. "The really bad. Even if I don't know it all, I know you're worth it." He gently knocked his horns on the door, a weak smile on his face. "You're real fun to cuddle, much better than a body pillow."

Soft footsteps were followed by the door swinging open. Taylor would've fallen if Normal wasn't there to catch him. The half elf was sobbing, uncontrollably so. He dropped to the ground quickly and wrapped tightly around Taylor. His face was shoved into Taylor's shoulder and just kept sobbing.

"I-i-i-i'm so b-b-b-broken, Taylor, W-w-why am I so broken?!" He squeezed the demon under him, completely lost in his pain and fear. Taylor carefully shifted so they were hugging chest to chest. They sat for a while, just letting Normal get everything out. His hands gently ran through the blonde curls of the shaking elf.

"I mean...you did almost died...I almost died." He gently cupped Normal's cheeks. "In that flame ring, pitted against each other...when I got out and I watched you go down so many times..." He sighed, kissing his forehead. "I hated it. I hated all of it. We spent 6 months fighting and hiding and putting our all into attacking and hurting. But you...you were made for love." Taylor felt tears pricking at his eyes. "And someone tore it away from you. Your father, Willy, even me...I don't know. All I know is that you didn't deserve any of it." To hide how hard he was about to start crying himself, he pulled back and held his hands nice and tight. "I want to make you feel safe again and loved and like you deserve love. Even with the scars and the burns that never fully healed. Even with the stupid mascot suit and all the issues, I want to love you and take care of you!"

All Normal could do was weakly sputter in response. At this point, his glasses were fogged up and he could barely see. He couldn't see the warm smile on Taylor's face. Warm, demonic hands reached up and gently cupped his cheeks before little horn nubs pressed against his forehead. He melted, especially on his burnt side. Anyone else who touched the scar got shouts of frustration or a guiding bolt to the hand, but Taylor always got a melty kitty. The few tears that were left were gently wiped away as the pair shared a short kiss. More of a peck that Normal quickly pulled back from.

"...too much?" Taylor quietly asked, ready to pull his hands away.

Normal shook his head, quickly wiping his eyes. "I-i-i'm tired...and thirsty. Plus, I have work in the morning..."

Taylor pouted. "No you don't, you're taking care of your disabled husband!"

That seemed to catch Norm's attention, his hand shooting to Taylor's hip. He felt around the bone, then the joint, then around the general area. His hands started to glow with magical properties, but Taylor stopped him.

"Hey now, you know that doesn't work. I just have a doctor's appointment in hell and I hate going alone." He smiled warmly. "Plus gets you out of state testing~"

For the first time since the wedding, Normal smiled his smile. The dopy one he always had after doing Teenie routines or after a spell fired how he wanted. Before everything with his father. It was crooked now thanks to his burn scars, but he looked just as happy that he used to.

"Fine, fine. I'll call out." He carefully stood up, hands out to help Taylor back to his feet. The demon was shtakey, but he managed it with his cane. "...it's worse than I thought." They slowly shuffled to the bedroom, getting water for both of them in the process.

Taylor was first down, setting his cane down. Head first into the pillow with a pained groan. Normal followed, gently sitting while chugging down a water bottle. He set it down before resting a hand on his husband's back.

"Come cuddle meeeeee" Taylor giggled, reaching to grab at Normal's hands.

With a soft giggle, Normal fully laid down and wrapped around Taylor for the first time in their married life. He finally was fully there, fully safe.

He may not be all better, but he sure as hell feels less broken with Taylor by his side.

[beardedmrbean]

Diane Rwigara, an outspoken critic of Rwandan President Kagame, has been barred from standing in next month’s presidential election.

Only Mr Kagame and two other politicians - Frank Habineza of the Democratic Green Party and independent Philippe Mpayimana - were cleared by the electoral body.

Ms Rwigara, who was also disqualified from the 2017 poll, took to X, formerly Twitter, to express her disappointment to Mr Kagame.

“Why won't you let me run? This is the second time you [have] cheat[ed] me out of my right to campaign,” she said.

The 42-year-old, who is the leader of the People Salvation Movement (PSM), had earlier told the BBC’s Newsday programme that she had hoped to be a able to stand this time round.

"I'm representing the vast majority of Rwandans who live in fear and are not allowed to be free in their own country,” she said.

“Rwanda is portrayed as a country where the economy has been growing. But on the ground, it's different. People do lack the basics of life, food, water, shelter."

But on issuing its provisional list of candidates, the electoral commission said Ms Rwigara had failed to provide the correct documentation to show she had no criminal record.

It also said she had failed to show she had enough support nationwide to stand.

"On the requirement for 600 signature endorsements, she did not provide at least 12 signatures from eight districts," Oda Gasinzigwa, the electoral commission chief, was quoted as saying.

Another reason the commission gave was that Ms Rwigara had failed to prove she was Rwandan by birth. She once held Belgian citizenship but surrendered that in 2017 before her last bid to become a candidate.

But Ms Rwigara has told the BBC that she was born in Rwanda and dismissed all the other grounds for the rejection of her candidacy.

A total of nine applications to stand for president were received by Rwanda's National Electoral Commission. Their final list will be announced next Friday as it still considering appeals lodged earlier in the process – though at this stage it is too late for the PSM leader to appeal.

In 2017 she was barred following accusations of forging the signatures of supporters for her application.

Ms Rwigara was imprisoned for more than a year but acquitted in 2018 over charges of inciting insurrection and forgery. She said the charges were politically motivated.

In March, a Rwandan court blocked efforts by prominent opposition figure Victoire Ingabire to lift a ban on her running in the presidential election.

She was freed in 2018 after spending eight years in prison for threatening state security and "belittling" the 1994 genocide.

In Rwanda, people who have been jailed for more than six months are barred from running in elections.

The two cleared candidates - Mr Habineza and Mr Mpayimana - were also the only candidates approved to stand against Mr Kagame in the 2017 election.

Mr Kagame is running for a fourth term, which could extend his presidency to nearly three decades should he win.

He won the last presidential election in 2017 with nearly 99% of the vote.

The 66-year-old president has faced criticism from rights groups for cracking down on the opposition.

But he has always fiercely defended Rwanda's record on human rights, saying his country respects political freedoms.

[bellaxgiornata]

First, I want to wish you ( a little bit late however) a happy birthday!!! 🎂 🎂🥳🥳🎉🎉

I was busy and was only reading on your ao3 account, just got here and realized!

You are one of the two accounts that made me do a profile last September or October ( I don't remember exactly which one of these two months it was). I hope you're having an amazing pregnancy ( are you having nausea, did you have it already and it passed on the next stage or did you not have this effect? 👀, if you don't feel comfortable answering, that's totally fine, I understand) and I hope your hubby gives you princess/queen treatment like you deserve! 😌✨

Could I ask you how you post on tumblr? I want to post things like pictures or blurbs, but I have no idea how.

Do you also have tips on organizing time? I have a lot on my plate between uni stuff, looking for scholarships/opportunities and trying to have a life, that I have no stability and am very stressed.

To conclude this, I wonder how would traveling abroad on another continent be with either Matt or with Frank?

I definitely imagine that with Frank it'll be really nice. He'll always have everything planned and I see him informing himself as much as he could with knowledge to the max. He'll bring reader to museums or historical places. However, he could sometimes be paranoid or really almost always on alert. He's definitely a bodyguard boyfriend!

With Matt, I think I'll be hard on the way to go there ( either by plane or boat, it will be really noisy for him) . He could also be always stressed since he won't be able to understand the language spoken and might misinterpret things as threats. :( I don't see how reader and him could have a great time together...

What do you think?

Ahh thank you, friend! 💖 My birthday was actually back in October, but this celebration is sort of like a tumblr birthday! I've been here for just over a year now and it seems like a good cause for celebration! And I'm glad to hear I could play a role in you coming over here to tumblr as well! It's definitely fun being able to interact a lot more than on AO3!

Thankfully most of this pregnancy has gone pretty well in comparison to my previous with my first son. That one took place during COVID so it was isolating and I had 24/7 nausea and sickness. This pregnancy has had its issues, but thankfully everything has been working out in the end. I've only had a bit of nausea in the first trimester and then it comes and goes lately now, but honestly I'm just forever exhausted and uncomfortable being almost 36 weeks along now. And my husband is doing his best! We've got a toddler so this time around it's not always do-able to have quite that level of treatment, but he's very helpful and attentive!

For the rest of your questions, I'll answer them below the cut! Because this is quickly becoming long 😆

It's generally pretty easy to post on tumblr, whether you use mobile or a PC. There's usually a button somewhere that says create or something along those lines. And there's options to just write text or add in images or make polls, etc. If you sort of play around you should be able to see the different things you can do! You can always test out a post and see what it does and then delete it afterwards, too! I was a bit confused when I came here at first, but just playing around with everything had me realizing that it's pretty straightforward for most things!

As for tips on organizing time, I can share what helped me during the busiest phase of my life in my late 20s. I was in grad school for a couple of years while also running a wedding photography business while also planning my own wedding and trying to maintain my own social life and sanity. So I get the stress! What I found helpful was using some sort of calendar or organizer. I wrote down deadlines for things that were non-negotiable so that I could visibly see what was going on--days I needed to go photograph a wedding, days wedding photos were due to couples, when homework was due, what days exams were, or when projects/papers were due for grad school. Things like that that cannot be changed. Then I usually plotted out time to allot to each thing throughout the week and prioritized each one depending how long it would take/how soon I needed it finished. So I made sure I had time to work on editing photos every day to keep making progress on weddings (because I usually had a new one piling up more work about every weekend), and I usually allotted so much time throughout the week to work on schoolwork (because I was reading well over a thousand pages a week every semester). I felt like having the visual of a calendar allowed me to actually see where my time was being spent and how much time I actually had to get things done. And it made things feel a little less overwhelming and like I was more in control. And any extra free time outside of getting my work done was reserved for wedding planning of my own or doing something fun with friends or my now husband.

So for you, I'd say plot out when school things/homework/exams are due, when scholarships are due, and what days you have work (if you have to go into work). Then try to allot how much time you would need to get everything done and plan that into your days every week. Some weeks you may find that you don't have a lot of social time (I know I certainly didn't and that's rough), but unfortunately that comes with going to college. Unless you're like one of my friends who somehow skipped every class, winged every assignment, went out always partying, and somehow still got her degree. Still baffles me to this day... But generally, school is going to take up a lot of your time until you finish it. It's rough and I feel for you though ❤ Just make sure to take some mental breaks and don't overwork yourself. Allow yourself to say no to things you don't actually need to do as well.

Now onto the bit about Matt and Frank abroad!! And of course, these are just my thoughts on how I picture the two of them.

I do think of the two, Frank would be easier to actually travel with just for the fact that he wouldn't need as much accommodation since he does not have Matt's heightened senses or a disability, which would obviously add a layer into planning that a Reader/significant other would have to keep in mind when planning things with Matt. But to me personally, I still think experiencing traveling abroad with either man would be a fun experience for different reasons and I don't think Matt's need for extra accommodation would ultimately have a negative effect on a vacation, especially because I imagine he'd travel with a partner who makes him feel comfortable with who he is as a blind man dealing with the extra sensory input. Personally I think experiencing anything through Matt's senses with the way he 'sees' the world would fascinate me because I don't experience the world even close to the way he does.

That being said, with Frank I could see him having some things planned out, and in my mind I picture it being from his time spent in the military. He seemed to spend quite a few years in the service, which means he's done multiple tours to many different places worldwide, even if that means just passing through a country. But I'm sure he's visited a couple of interesting places on his own when he had free moments, whether alone or with his buddies, and I could picture him having a few places in mind he'd want to show Reader. But I could also see him having places in mind that he had heard about but never had the opportunity or time to go visit while he was abroad in the past because the military tends to keep you busy. So I'm sure there's places Frank would love to really explore. I could also see him being interested in the historical places, having read up on something that really stood out to him, but I could definitely see him interested in adventuring outdoors if Reader/his significant other was open to that. He definitely seems like he'd want to get out and explore the scenery and the sights and he probably wouldn't want to sit and relax too much on a vacation. And I agree, he'd have times where he'd absolutely be on alert. I think that's just how Frank is wired at this point, especially with loved ones.

As for traveling abroad with Matt, the actual getting to a different destination would be rough on him. Though we know in the MCU he's traveled to LA now because of his appearance in She Hulk, so canonically he's managed what I think is around a six hour flight. And from a brief check, it seems New York to certain cities within Europe would be a little bit longer of a flight by an hour or so. So, I think he could manage it, but I think it would be vastly unenjoyable because of his senses. And he'd absolutely need to accommodate for those. I also imagine he'd need time to decompress and recover after a flight like that before getting out and enjoying the vacation. Though I do think he'd have fun exploring restaurants and finding really great food to try, and I think he'd enjoy experiencing museums or art galleries whether there was a guided tour set in place for someone who is blind or visually impaired, or whether he got to experience things through Reader's descriptions. I think he'd still like to explore the city and visit historical sites, but I think Matt would really enjoy experiencing places that are probably a little less overrun with tourists and people that might overwhelm his senses. But also, getting Matt to stop being Daredevil for a bit and actually leave Hell's Kitchen might be hard 😆

[dyed-red]

I voted for priest Sam hair! Not only because it was the correct choice, but, hey, bribery! So for a mini Dickey, a choice between outsider POV of the boys being weird about each other or late seasons domestic!Winchesters? If neither of those work for you, write something you like 😁

I love that my bribery accomplished nothing, because everyone taking me up on the offer is someone who was already going to (or already had) vote for the correct choice anyway :D truly net zero impact on the poll, which is likely for the best.

and ahh, i do love both outsider PoV and domestic!chesters, so this is good. and in my typical fashion, my answer is:

Set after 12x11, "Regarding Dean".

They're very beautiful boys is the thing. Well, not the thing, but certainly part of it. Rowena thinks that anyone would be hard-pressed to judge her somewhat embarrassing lack of self-preservation in this regard, if they too got to experience the full effect of Sam Winchester imperious gaze or Dean's intermittently roguish and boyish smiles.

That or, like so many before her, she truly just did contract Winchester Derangement Syndrome. Oh well.

She'd wanted to skirt out of town quickly, after helping fix up Dean's memory. It would be the prudent thing to do. But it was also an opportunity, one that might not drop into her lap quite so easily again anytime soon, to get a read on the brothers without being observed herself. One had to wonder how they did it, held the world together with duck tape and a can-do attitude, considering how ordinary and brutish they'd seemed at first.

Well. Maybe not entirely brutish. Sam's command of Latin and spellwork had always intrigued her. But that was neither here nor there, and he wasn't accomplished enough a spellcrafter to see through the glamour that she wove around herself -- an angling and aging of the face, a darkening and straightening of the hair, a thinning of the lips and tinting to the eyes. Enough that, with an outfit passably dull, she could opposite to them in the pub where they made their way for dinner and rest before they'd set out in the morning. A quiet place on the outskirts of town, locals trudging work boots in and tired or sore from the day. Sam and Dean fit right in. They seemed to fit in most anywhere they went.

Better chameleons than even her glamour could afford her. A few hundred years and Rowena wasn't sure she'd perfected the art of invisibility as well as two men gorgeous enough to be on magazine covers. That was something.

She'd followed them in, waited across the parking lot, and wondered if Dean had injured himself somehow on the day's misadventures. She didn't recall anything, not much action except for at the end there, otherwise just Sam pasting sticky notes to objects and Dean becoming cuter and more bearable by the minute. She didn't recall anything, but Sam's hand never strayed from Dean's back as they made their way across the lot, and Dean never shrugged it off.

By the time she slipped inside, found herself a stool at a table with a view of their booth, they were seated across from one another. She'd never noticed, never bothered to, how far their legs stretched under a table, tangled up into each other's foot-space. At her height, not an issue she had frequently. But Sam was leaned back, fingers on the table, leg, ankle jostling against Dean's calf underneath it. He looked relaxed, and something in Rowena's chest eased at seeing it.

The curse was properly fixed then. Of course she wouldn't wait around in town just to be sure, she wasn't their minder and anyway she'd been certain it was fixed before they parted ways. Still though, confirmation never rankled.

Dean looked around and Rowena turned her gaze to the bland offerings on the menu and in her peripheral she heard his voice, not the words, and then Sam's laughter, loud and startled for a moment then quieter.

When she glanced over, Dean was grinning, leaned in, and Sam's face was so fond her own stomach felt a little gurgly, as if caterpillars (never butterflies) might take up residence.

There was a motion, quick dart, and Sam's hand was on Dean's. Overtop, maybe on his wrist. Rowena's caterpillars turned to lead -- waited with bated breath as their waitress came over and they separated, expressions shifting quick like guilty schoolboy -- and then burst forth into winged insects instead, fluttering around her insides. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes alight, and ignored the moths taking up residence inside of her.

Well, that was something then.

It wasn't all that scandalous, that kind of sin. Proscribed by the law of every place and time, but something you saw a time or twenty if you lived long enough. It wasn't as if she hadn't suspected. Her imaginings had been more brutal though, more teeth gnashing end-of-world anger with each other, clinging and messy and mad with it. Hand touches across the tables and -- the memory surfaced from earlier in the day -- delighted grins over the potential for a front row seat to some 'live skinemax', that hadn't been what she'd conjured up.

And oh, to be the live entertainer with Sam, to have pleasure made into a show for Dean's affections. Too bad Sam had to be so focused on fixing his brother, they could have had some real fun that afternoon. She certainly wouldn't have complained.

She ordered something herself, a salad and, because life was short, two types of dessert to follow. If there was some thing cold-blooded American capitalism had done right, it was egregiously portioned and delectably indulgent desserts.

The brothers ate, and laughed, and sighed across their bench from each other, seeming weary but well. Ordinary, but far from it. Their legs tangled deeper into each other's space. Dean's fingers drummed an absent pattern, no doubt from one of those rock bands he liked, and Sam nudged him with his leg and directed him to where some dart boards were setup. They brushed shoulders and elbowed each other, were close enough for her to catch snatches of their conversation. Teasing, mostly. Challenging, boyish one-upmanship. Flirting, quite obviously, when Sam's voice dropped to growl something in Dean's ear she couldn't catch, the tone of which had her stomach swooping anyway.

They left not long after, when her second dessert arrived. A little flavourless, in comparison. She left without bothering to finish, left town that night without dawdling any longer. The boys were good, and were comforting each other, and they owed her one. The rest was between them.

[hubrisbracket]

Hubris Bracket Side A Poll 11: Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche (The Evillious Chronicles) vs Fei Wong Reed (Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle)

Propaganda below!

Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche

So in evillious there are people known as the seven sinners because they were possessed by demons of sin (there were other people that were posessed too but the sinners are the ones who made the biggest impact on the world) and riliane is literally the sinner of pride!! She was a princess who got posessed by a the demon of pride and that made her all tyrannical, executing people for no reason, letting commoners starve, classic evil princess shit, and she committed genocide on a country because her ex-fiance fell in love with a girl from that country. BUT then the people started a revolution where they wanted to execute her, but her servant Allen who was very very devoted to her (and who was actually her twin brother but she lost memories of that because of a different demon) and allen puts on her clothes and pretends to be her and gets executed, she has to watch him die then runs away into the woods and almost dies, but then gets saved by a nun (that was actually the lesbian crush of the girl whose country she genocided) and was taken into the monastery, at first she was all pathetic and snobby and didnt want to do "commoner" work but eventually she came around but her main Thing is the part where she gets knocked from her throne and becomes a sad wet kitten okay. Also she was 14 and ruled the country bc her parents died

She is Literally the embodiment of Pride. She is fourteen years old. She ordered a genocided. She has a favourite horse named Josephine. She regularly has people beheaded via guillotine. She became a nun wishing for everyone to know peace later in life. She HAS the range and also she has bee the princess of my heart since like 2015 ♡

(this next one isn't in bullet form bc it's long)

Riliane was an exceptionally terrible tyrant, who only ruled her kingdom for 1 year before being overthrown. She would tax the people, who already had very little food, so that she could buy exorbitant things to show off to her guests and her fiancée. She would execute people over the tiniest of issues, such as not letting her win a game. She waged a war on another kingdom because her fiancée (who was forced into the marriage by his abusive mother) broke off the engagement to pursue a peasant woman. Not knowing the woman's identity, she simply commanded her army to track down and kill every woman who shared the same traits, known as the "Green Hunt".

If all of this sounds incredibly petty and childish, that is because Riliane ascended to the throne when she was 14. She is literally a child. History books say that she was executed in the square at three o'clock, just before her 15th birthday… but the truth is a bit more complicated. She had a younger twin brother, but a succession crisis and plot to undermine the royal family ended up with her getting amnesia and him having to fake his death for his own safety. This happened when they were only 6. He eventually came back to the palace as a servant named "Allen Avadonia", but Riliane had already been possessed by the Demon of Pride. The only people who knew Allen's true identity was Allen, their late mother, his adoptive father, and the two other confidants that their parents had. Riliane just saw Allen's resemblance to her as a fun piece of trivia.

Despite this, Allen did his best to make her happy, even to his own detriment. And it seemed that, even though she was possessed, she did come to care about him as well, because she only stopped the war because he said he would leave the palace if she didn't. When the revolutionaries were coming to capture and execute the princess, Allen asked if they could switch clothes, and then told her to flee while he stayed behind.

Even if she couldn't remember him, they were still twins, so he could probably fool the rebels. Riliane, to her credit, was absolutely horrified by this and protested, even telling him that this was all her fault and she should face punishment for it. Allen, however, didn't give Riliane a choice in the matter. He pushed her into a hidden passageway and locked the door behind him, while he faced the revolutionaries alone. Riliane has not lost everything, even her own identity because the princess was supposed to have been executed. On the brink of starvation, however, she is found by a nun, and taken in. Riliane is still somewhat selfish and bratty, pushing everyone else away, except for the nun who saved her, Clarith. Eventually, Clarith's kindness even manages to make Riliane try being more respectful and help out with the chores at the orphanage.

Clarith understands what it's like to be so alone, as it is something she struggled with her entire life until she made her first friend. And then her friend was killed in the Green Hunt. One night, Riliane goes to the confession box, and admits all of her evil deeds from her time on the throne, then goes out to watch the sea and mourn her brother. And, by complete coincidence, Clarith overheard everything. Knife in hand, Clarith looms closer and closer to Riliane. This is the tyrant who took her dearest friend and razed her village to the ground.

Everyone is dead and gone because of her. Killing her would be justice. Right? But she's a child and she's so lonely. She's just standing there, in the seawater. She knows Clarith is behind her. She knows that Clarith is intending to kill her, and she accepts it. She knows she deserves it for what she's done. But Clarith spares her life, takes pity on her. And furthermore, Clarith helps her adjust to this new life, and the former tyrant resolves to try and become a better person, to honor the sacrifice her brother made. She knows she can never apologize or be forgiven for what she has done.

But that doesn't mean she shouldn't at least try. She spends the rest of her life at the orphanage, raising the children there with love. (This is the propaganda) TLDR: Teenage tyrant loses everything; her kingdom, riches, last remaining family member, even her own identity, and is forced to live the rest of her life with the knowledge and guilt that she has no one to blame for her misfortune but herself. In the end, she is given pity by a person she has hurt directly and tries to honor her brother's sacrifice by being a better person, living humbly and being a loving parent to the orphans at the orphanage. She'd learn nothing if she was simply executed, after all.

Fei Wong Reed

Fei Wong Reed sought to conquer death where the superior magician (Clow Reed, who created Fei Wong by unspecified magical means) failed; he didn't do this because he particularly cared about any dead person, but because he wanted to prove he was better than Clow. he orchestrated a whole plan involving time loops, clones, memories scattered across worlds/dimensions, and pawns arranged for when they were children, but he still failed in the end. he arranged for a group of four people (and their sapient little magical creature) to travel between worlds, unknowingly fulfilling Fei Wong's ends; this group was made up of two clones created by him (one of whom had her memories scattered across worlds by Fei Wong so that he could use her for her powerful magic once the group had gotten all the memories back), a strong fighter who wouldn't have ended up on this journey if Fei Wong hadn't killed his mother when he was a child, and a powerful magician whose secret convoluted backstory meant that he was supposed to betray the rest of the group to Fei Wong (spoilers: when it comes down to it he decides to help the rest of his group instead because they are Found Family). in the end, the group (along with the escaped boy one of the clones was created from (who escaped because one of Fei Wong's other creations let him go)) stops him, and he winds up dead at the hands of the fighter. TLDR: Fei Wong Reed wanted to do an impossible thing just to prove he was better than his creator, he set up an intricate web that brought a specific group of people together to help achieve this task without (most of) their knowledge, and he was then killed by this group of people.

[hero-israel]

I'm over/sick of right wing zionists (in America) who clearly only care about using Israel as an issue to elect Republicans. People who gleefully take whatever shitty thing Cori Bush or Ilhan Omar (et al) tweeted/said and are like "look look! this is what Joe Biden thinks!" or tried to derail the conversation about Biden's Antisemitism combatting strategy because the Department of Ed sent a copy to CIAR (or whatever) Like are Democrats perfect? nope. But these Democrats in Congress are back bench fringe figures that Biden and others largely avoid, they've faced much more serious primaries (Omar nearly lost her seat in a primary) than you'd normally see and lots of Democrats want them gone, they are not representative of the party over all

and you SHOULDN'T want them to be! I'm as Democratic as they come but I'm Jewish and a Zionist, I know it will be DEEPLY unhealthy for Jewish Americans if Israel (or Jews) becomes a partisan issue. One party can not rule in Washington forever, and friends of Israel, true friends, should want Israel to be safe no matter which party is in office not yo-yo between one party that endorses the views of Ben-Gvir and Smotrich and a party that endorses BDS (not that the Democrats do or would, but if you listen to Republican Zionists...) like thats not whats best for Israel, the Jewish state needs to be able to count on a reliable ally no matter which party has the White House/Congress we should root out antisemites in deep blue/red districts with primaries and support the best candidate for Israel even if we don't like them on many other topics, like whatever Republican can take out Rand Paul, Thomas Massie, MTG or Paul Gosar as long as they like the Jews is a win in my book even though I'll likely not agree with them on anything else.

Very important message. A lot of sources I otherwise trust have been sniveling over Biden's antisemitism task force and I do not understand it at all. They were guided by Deborah Lipstadt! They endorsed the IHRA definition (which the government has already accepted anyway)! They are not turning it over to CAIR, there's some insignificant connection that they probably needed to make it look ecumenical. Honestly, people need to just take a win when one comes.

For a lifetime, American Jews have kept to our own brand of two-pronged, Democratic & Zionist political engagement. Unfortunately the rest of the country is no longer as bipartisan, and recent polling shows registered Democrats are visibly more sympathetic to Palestine than to Israel. As long as they are somewhat sympathetic to both and don't wish harm on either, we can work in that paradigm, but obviously I'd be more comfortable if our side were still the uniform favorite.

More unfortunately, I think most of the collapse of bipartisanship on Israel, and turning it into increasingly a Republican issue, was the result of personality and ego clashes between Obama and Netanyahu. The former was the best president in my lifetime and the latter did a pretty good job as PM until late 2022, but the two men just haaaated each other. Viscerally. Personally. And each of them magnified each other's worst aspects: Obama's sense of himself as a post-political avatar of change, Netanyahu's unstoppable douchebaggery and lying and general FoxNews-iness. Obama charged stupidly into the Iran Deal - his own version of the Iraq War, resting on false assumptions and applauded by false experts; Netanyahu then spit in Obama's face by attacking the Iran Deal on the floor of Congress.

There is an excellent overview of this time in the PBS documentary "Netanyahu At War." I think it is as honest and unbiased as any piece of reporting on Israel I've ever seen - and because it's PBS, the whole thing is available for free. Everyone reading this blog should watch it.

George W. Bush and Jacques Chirac also hated each other, personally. Each of them had staff members who recognized that the U.S. / France relationship was important enough that their personal feelings could not be allowed to get in the way, so the relationship was delegated to underlings and the two primaries rarely spoke to one another at all. That should have been the model for U.S. / Israel from 2008-2016. As is, things were set up for a split even BEFORE Trump came in and made a lot of high-profile moves in favor of Israel, and we are nowhere near seeing the full extent of the pain and damage that the mainstream Jewish community is going to suffer because of that poisoned pill.