#but the whole prize money issue?

[sportsallover]

I just read this chilling account of the realities of the Challenger and Futures tours by L’Équipe, and I’m just speechless. From the non-existent prize money combined with the crazy costs, to the horror story-worthy depiction of the conditions in the tournaments and the hotels, it’s really a wonder we even get a top 100 at the end. The guys below that are just barely scrapping by.

To top it off, it ends on the high number of cheated matches and like… how can you blame a player for accepting to deliberately lose a match for 5k when he’ll only make 300 if he wins? That’s just nonsense. How are they supposed to survive? How are they supposed to keep playing at the tournaments if they end up losing money every week?

[fatescaprice]

hiiiii ☀️ can i ask for something about aventurine and the reader who is part of the express family (not trailblazer) ? it can be some love at first sight thing, or maybe where they meet again in penacony and turns out they both had some hidden past with eachother b4🤭 of course, you can choose whatever storyline to go with as well with this reader🤍 thank uuuu

aventurine and a nameless reader

content warnings: vague penacony spoilers

note: hello anon!! i went with the second option since i just looove reunions ... i had a lot of fun writing this but i also had to google how a lottery works ... i'm embarrassed ... i hope you enjoy!

You and AVENTURINE had met ages before he became a bigshot at the IPC, back when he was doing Aeons-know-what to scrape by. Whether you were friends or rivals or had to use every fibre in your body to keep yourself from insulting him on sight, you eventually parted ways and both, quite reasonably, assumed that you would never see each other again — the universe was far too big for that, after all. He saw you off as you boarded the Astral Express, and resigned himself to thinking that your meeting was little more than a lucky draw.

That is, of course, until you run into each other by chance in the lobby of the Reverie. He doesn’t pay you much attention at first, but his eyes end up wandering to you almost against his will as he sorts out your grey friend’s room issue. When did you change your hair? Did your voice always have that kind of cadence? His customer-service smile turns a tad more genuine as he turns to you once it’s over and your friends had dispersed within the lobby. “What a pleasant surprise,” he drawls. “Long time no see, huh?”

Aventurine offers to catch up over drinks, if you’re so inclined. Time is money, but that’s how you normally celebrate making new friends and reuniting with old ones, isn’t it? He’ll treat you to whatever you like while you tell him about your travels.

Even after he gets his own business sorted, he can’t help but notice how you two seem to keep running into each other, as if by little twists of fate. Your room across from his, the sound of you laughing with your pink-haired friend in the lobby, the sight of your back as you wander around the Golden Hour.

If fate keeps bringing you together, Aventurine would be a fool to not capitalise on it, wouldn’t he? He’s quick to slink over to your side and suggest a wager: “You look lonely,” he’ll say, rolling a coin back and forth over his knuckles. “Say, if I win big at the lottery over there, how about we spend the rest of the day together? We can even call it a date if you like.”

It’s a bit of an unfair bet, all things considered — he doesn’t often make bets he can’t win, and while it’s little surprise to him as he claims his prize, he also takes the time to relish in your surprised expression. What, did you really think he would lose? Don’t be silly. Now, tell him what you want to do — he’s already planning an itinerary in his head before work inevitably drags him away that evening.

Even as you two spark up another conversation (What’ve you been up to all this time? Got any travel destinations he might like?) he can’t tell you the whole truth, not yet — but in the meantime he can wrap one arm around your waist just like this, and watch how the dreamscape tints your eyes a shade of the most opulent gold.

[pucksandpower]

An interesting argument I am seeing about the current situation at Williams Racing is that the decision to give Logan Sargeant’s chassis to Alex Albon during the Australian Grand Prix and then the decision to give Alex Albon’s repaired chassis to Logan Sargeant starting with the Japanese Grand Prix was good for business.

I have to disagree.

Does it make sense performance-wise? Yes, I do not think anyone is really going to claim otherwise (although it certainly won’t help with Logan’s development which is a whole separate issue).

But as a business decision? Logan’s signing brought major US sponsors like Gulf Oil, Stephens, and Michelob ULTRA to the team in 2023. I am not sure if it can be argued that any prize money won from the championship standings will be more impactful to a team in hot financial water than what these sponsors bring to the table.

Not to mention that marketability and image are more important in Formula 1 (and all sports really) than ever given the era of social media.

I truly think that Williams put themselves between a rock and a hard place, and while I understand James Vowles’ perspective (especially given his reputation coming over from Mercedes) and his desire to focus on what happens on the track itself, the business and PR impact of these past few weeks cannot be minimized.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

THE MORNING SKY

── Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ── 2 [ A CHANGE OF HEART ]

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | TABLE OF CONTENTS

no use of y/n and i try to avoid descriptors other than reader being shorter than the boys (coriolanus, sejanus, and archer). i do use she/her.

CORIOLANUS SNOW HAS ALWAYS BEEN PROUD. As in, too proud to ask for help, well from anyone other than Tigris. If someone would offer him a bit of extra food, he’d try to play it off as if he wasn’t hungry but he’d eat it anyway just so the food wouldn’t go to waste. He’d never let on that this would be the first real food he’d eaten in who knows how long, because often all they could afford were potatoes.

Not surprisingly, there was a brief moment during last years games where he became power hungry. When it seemed like Lucy Gray might actually win and he learned of all that would happen for, and to, mentors that ended up with a winning tribute.

He nearly gave in. Coriolanus was tired of a life of wondering where his next meal might come from. He was tired of hoping nobody would notice his too-tight shoes, or that his uniform wasn’t as neat and tailored as the others. He wanted more, not just for himself, but for Tigris and Grandma’am too.

Before becoming a mentor, the games weren’t something he paid close attention to. After being assured his name would never be drawn, Coriolanus simply stopped caring.

Then he saw firsthand just how horrible the games really were. Witnessed the cruel treatment of the tributes before being thrown into an arena and made to fight to the death. Slowly but surely, he began to have a change of heart.

All of that being said, despite how he’d begun to carry himself, and how he started to realize the way he was thinking wasn’t right, he now knows that all of that has gone out the window. Because even before you’d officially met Coriolanus knows that without a doubt he will once again risk everything, this time, for you. Call it an affect of the soulmate bond, or yet another change of heart, he knows he will do whatever it takes to make sure that you survive.

Luck was partially on his side, in that your fellow district tribute was assigned to Sejanus. Based on your reaction when Archer’s name was called, he assumed it was safe to say that you were good friends.

“ — okay?”

Coriolanus nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he turned and calmed once he realized that it was only Sejanus.

“Sorry… what?”

“I asked if you were okay,” Sejanus lets out a nervous laugh. “Stupid question, I get that now. But listen, it’s gonna be fine. Our campaigning worked. Mentors get to escort their tributes to where they’ll be sleeping. It’s an actual building this time with beds. And we have two weeks to prepare them for the games.”

That was one thing Coriolanus was extremely grateful for, even before he learned that his tribute was also his soulmate. Because he saw the cruelty that was having the tributes sleep in a zoo enclosure up close, he and Sejanus were among the few that agreed changes needed to happen.

Those that disagreed, thought of the tributes as lowly, bottom of the food chain. And they saw no issue with allowing people to come and gawk at them. Nothing wrong with having them sleep on rocks and dirt, maybe a patch of grass if they were so lucky. In fact, some had the nerve to say it was better if their living conditions were like that since “it’s probably closer to what a lot of them are used to”.

Following last years games, Coriolanus spent a good couple of weeks grieving. Grieving the life he knew he wouldn’t get to have, the prize money that wouldn’t be his, but mostly grieving the loss of Lucy Gray. She was good, she’d been kind to him.

During those few weeks, he thought of everything wrong with the games. Of course the games as a whole were ultimately wrong, but he and Sejanus knew it was better to start making smaller changes before they tackled something much bigger.

As a result of many, many meetings with Dr. Gaul, it was decided that the tributes would get 2 weeks to train and strategize, instead of only days to strategize and none to train. A facility was built for those who wished to hone their skills. Mentors would now be allowed to spend as much time with their tributes as they deemed necessary.

Instead of sleeping in a public zoo enclosure, an official tribute living quarters was built, with the rooms resembling hotel rooms rather than bare dorms. This idea came from Sejanus, who pointed out that many of the tributes would be coming from poor districts, and this was at least one thing that could make what they were going through a little less painful.

Coriolanus had been the one to suggest that each mentor should personally escort their tributes to both the arena, and where they’d be sleeping. Being crammed into that train car with Lucy Gray and all other tributes showed him yet another aspect that needed to change.

Luckily, Sejanus ended up offering Coriolanus and whoever his tribute was, to ride with them in one of his families cars. He didn’t know what he would’ve done otherwise.

The ride to greet their tributes at the train station was mostly silent. When Sejanus glanced at his friend, he figured Coriolanus was silent because he was just nervous considering what happened with Lucy Gray. And when Coriolanus glanced back, in reality he was debating whether or not to tell him that you were his soulmate. Sejanus had yet to meet his, but was also one of the many that wasn’t worried about it because he was still young.

In the end, Coriolanus decides not to tell his friend, at least not yet. Although he knows Sejanus wouldn’t use it against him, at the end of the day this is still a competition and they both still have tributes in the games. He also rationalizes this decision by telling himself that telling Sejanus wouldn’t do any good at this point anyway.

Once they arrive at the train station, neither boy is surprised that they’re the only 2 mentors there. Though the train is only 10 minutes away, they know that the other mentors are probably waiting until the last possible minute. That, or they’ll have their tribute wait at the station for a while before finally showing up.

As the train pulls in, Coriolanus begins to feel nervous. But it’s mixed with that nice feeling that comes when your soulmate is close by.

As you step out, he tries to hide his smile. Though this is the first time 2 soulmates are meeting, he knows that if he wants you to stay alive, he has to think like a mentor. And that means focusing on the games. None of the other mentors, besides Sejanus eventually, can know what you mean to him.

Archer helps you off of the train, and he becomes visibly relieved when he sees Coriolanus and Sejanus standing next to each other.

You keep a tight grip on Archer, who held his arm out so that you could hold it as you both walked. Once you walk the short distance to the boys, you slowly let go.

“Hi,” you speak softly.

Coriolanus steps forward to take your hands in his, but stops as he remembers where he is. As he looks around, he realizes he was right. It’s been a few minutes since the tributes arrived and the other mentors are only just now approaching the train.

“You okay?” Archer looks down at you, concern written all over his face.

In lieu of a verbal response, you simply nod.

“We should get to the car so we can show you guys where you’ll be staying for the next two weeks,” Sejanus nods his head, you guess in the direction of where the car is.

Once you all approach the vehicle, Sejanus says he and Archer will take the back row, and you and Coriolanus can take the middle.

Archer breaks the silence and asks the first question, knowing you’re too nervous to.

“So — how does this work? Once we get to the — the place?”

“Where you’ll be staying?” When Archer nods, Sejanus continues. “Since it’s already pretty late in the day, today doesn’t actually count as day one. That’s tomorrow, and from then you’ll have two weeks to train and make whatever preparations you need to for the games. The training facility is on the same property, so you don’t have to do any traveling.”

You think for a moment before finally working up the courage to ask your question. “The — Lucky Flickerman said that this years arena is going to be completely different since last years one was mostly destroyed. Do you know…?”

Sadly, Sejanus shakes his head. “Sorry, I wish we did. They’re keeping us in the dark until we all tour the place tomorrow.”

Hoping it’s subtle enough that Archer and Sejanus don’t see his movements, Coriolanus slowly moves his hand closer to yours, before gently resting it on top.

Sensing he doesn’t want anyone else in the car to know, you turn and mouth “thank you”.

“Will you guys be with us when we train?”

Coriolanus nods. “Most days, yes. Two days are technically to show off your learned skills to those in charge of the games, and mentors aren’t allowed for that. It is optional for mentors to be there every day, but Sejanus and I will be.”

It may be selfish, but you’re glad you’ll have so much time with him before the games. You know the odds of you actually winning the entire thing, and you’re just thankful that you’ll have at least 2 weeks with your soulmate.

After what feels like an eternity but was really less than 20 minutes, the car finally slows before coming to a complete stop. This time, Coriolanus exits first and helps you step down. When you let go of his hand, you find yourself immediately wanting to hold it again.

The first thing he and Sejanus notice, is yours and Archer’s reaction to the tributes living facility. It really does look like a fancy hotel from the outside.

“It basically is,” Sejanus gives you and Archer a sad smile. You can feel your face growing warm. You didn’t realize that you’d said that out loud. “They agreed that tributes can’t be forced to sleep in… well I’m sure you guys saw it last year. Coryo and I were actually two of the people that convinced them to make the living arrangements a lot better. There are still pretty strict rules though, and that we had nothing to do with.”

“Like — like what?” You ask, speaking up for only the second time since stepping off of the train.

Coriolanus tries to ignore the feeling he gets just from hearing your voice. He didn’t realize soulmate feelings would be so intense.

At that moment, you all step onto the elevator, and the ride up to the 12th floor is silent. When Coriolanus twists the key into the lock and pushes the door open, you can’t help but gasp.

(pretend the bottom is just part of the main entrance)

“So, they do want to keep a close tab on all tributes, and because of that when you’re outside of your rooms you’ll be given bracelets with trackers. They wouldn’t tell us why, but outside of training they want tribute interactions to a minimum so other than everyone having breakfast and dinner at the same time, no one is allowed out of their rooms unless training or given special permission. Also because of that, the doors lock from the outside. But mentors have keys so we’ll be able to come see you guys whenever we can.”

When the 4 of you reach the massive walk-in closet, you and Archer are surprised to find it full of clothes. At a quick glance, most of the clothes are for training. But there’s also a tux for Archer and an extremely expensive looking gown for you.

Once you’ve finished touring the entire room, Sejanus and Archer step out onto the balcony, leaving you and Coriolanus alone for the first time.

Anxiety begins to take over you once again. “We’re… we’re trapped in our rooms?”

Finally feeling comfortable enough to do so, Coriolanus takes your hands in his and steps closer. “Nothing will happen to you while you’re here. I swear it.”

“But you’re not here at night, right? What if someone is somehow able to get in and…”

“I know you have no reason to trust me yet. After what happened last year and how I let—”

You shake your head. “It’s not that, I promise. I know it’s probably the soulmate bond talking but I do trust you, with my life. I saw last years games. I know that what happened to Lucy Gray wasn’t your fault. You didn’t let anything happen. You did everything you could to help her win, and she should’ve won but the system failed her. Not you. It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s everyone else.”

Coriolanus gives you a sad smile, allowing himself a brief moment to lift his hand up and gently place it on your cheek. “I swear to you, I will make sure you come home.” He has to refrain himself from saying home to me.

“I know you said mentors have the option of being at training every day but that they don’t have to. Are you sure you —”

“Yes,” he nods. “I’ll be there every day.”

Sejanus and Archer re-enter the room just then, and you and Coriolanus take a few steps apart.

“We have to get going,” Sejanus nods towards the door. “But we’ll be back first thing in the morning. Tributes aren’t meeting until tomorrow so they’ll be bringing dinner up to your rooms tonight.”

You and Archer walk with them to the door, and Sejanus says his goodbyes before heading back down the hallway. Coriolanus tells him he’ll catch up in a minute.

“I’m gonna go have a shower,” Archer glances between you and Coriolanus before heading off in search of the bathroom.

“I can’t stay long or he’ll know something is up,” Coriolanus speaks softly. “I promise we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

You nod and stand on your toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Like I said, I trust you.”

Before he can overthink once again, Coriolanus takes a step forward, this time putting his hands on either side of your face.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure you come home. I will keep you safe.” With that, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and smiles at you once more before turning around and leaving.

He knows that if he doesn’t leave right then, if he stays even one moment longer, he may not be able to walk away.

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[goldenlikedayl1ght]

blank space - m. murdock

a/n: uhm... this one is dedicated to my friend arin who doesn't like daredevil but is encouraging me to be more unhinged. i hope you guys enjoy because i had a blast writing this. possible part two in the works, please like and reblog with comments and feedback <3 warnings: i cannot emphasize this enough-- DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT there is so little comfort to all of this hurt. matt is abusive and mean and reader is tortured and quiet and readers dad is an addict and a gambler and also stabbing, cursing, talking about fucking, sub/dom dynamics, nicknames, fem reader, lmk if i missed any! word count: 3.5k summary: Your dad makes your life horrible. Matt can make it worse. paring: dark!matt murdock x reader now playing: blank space (taylor's version) - taylor swift "so it's gonna be forever/or it's gonna go down in flames?/you can tell me when it's over/if the high was worth the pain"

You never meant to get involved with him.

Really, it wasn’t anything you did.

 As usual, it came back around to your father, who had a bad gambling problem, as well as a substance issue, and would often be tempted to gamble big prizes for things like coke or heroin. He would bet money, college funds, heirlooms, your house.

But of course, he couldn’t pay these debts.

Your mom had been gone for quite some time, and you suspect this is where your fathers’ addictions stem from. But you’re trying to just make your way through your adult life. You had gone to a local college, unable to afford much else. Now, you worked in a dingy little office where they constantly abused your work ethic.

Between your grief, his constant betting on your lively hood, and your asshole boss, you felt your bones grow tired. Not the sort of tired that could be fixed by a good night’s sleep. The sort of tired that could be fixed by a new life, not that you had the means for that.

You think your mother would haunt you for the rest of your days if you abandoned your dad.

Friday night came, and you were ready to go home to the small apartment you shared with your father, and drink some wine, and get a nice sleep.

You had been told by your boss that you needed to stay late to translate paper files to the digital system. No, you would not be getting paid overtime.

It was dark by the time you finally left, your feet aching in your heels as you made your way through Hell’s Kitchen, wanting to get home so as not to start crying on the streets of New York.

You don’t make it home.

As you turn the corner by your block, you notice a van creeping up on you. How long had it been following you? If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would know.

But the van pulled up next to you, and you did the only thing you could in this situation. You started to run.

Only, you made it about ten feet before you twisted your ankle with these stupid fucking heels. As you fall, you let out a cry of pain, and before you can think, two men are outside the van. They grab you by the arms and pull you into the van, the whole time you struggle.

Someone puts a black hood over your head and wraps duct tape around your hands. Your ankle is fucking aching.

You aren’t sure how long you drive for, but someone is then pulling you out of the van and drags you along. They give you an opportunity to walk but your ankle hurts to the point where you can’t walk.

They drag you again, and your foot is dragging, and holy shit, you can’t believe that your biggest concern while being kidnapped is how much your ankle hurts.

Eventually, hood on your head still, you are sat in a chair. Your hands are untied, and you want to jump up and fight, but you know your ankle won’t help you here.

They quickly tie your hands back to the chair, with rope this time. Whoever ‘they’ are.

You’re starting to have trouble breathing, because you’re realizing what sort of situation, you’re in right now.

You’ve been kidnapped for something; you have to assume in some way that it’s to get back at your father.

The hood is pulled off your head, and your eyes take a moment to adjust.

The room you’re in is dark, dingy. You know there’s two people behind you, big enough to carry you. You can hear water outside the room, assuming you’re in an abandoned office by the docks. Then, there’s three people in front of you.

One is a man, with long blond hair. He wears a nice suit and is just standing in front of the door. Another is a woman, with even longer blond hair and she also dons rather luxurious apparel. Your dirty work clothes make you look meager next to her.

The last is a man with dark hair. He wears a simple, rather expensive suit, and red glasses.

If you weren’t on the verge of a meltdown, you’d probably realize how hot he is.

Oh, he also holds a knife.

The blond man talks first.

“So. Do you want to start, or should we?”

“What?” Your ankle throbs.

“I guess we should, then.” He hums. “Do you have five grand worth of heroin on you, dear?”

You could throw up.

“I—”

“No, of course you don’t. You and your boyfriend probably used it all.”

What is he talking about? Now, on top of being in pain and panicked, you’re confused.

“The man you live with?” The woman finally speaks. “I assume you two used all the heroin he stole.”

You realize she means your father. You realize that your father stole five grand worth of heroin. What else did he steal?

“What else does he owe?”

“No, darling,” she scoffs, “We ask, you answer.”

“I don’t do heroin.”

“So, how do you know he owes us more?”

“Took a wild fucking guess.” You spit. “Figured you wouldn’t kidnap someone over five grand, figure money is no object.”

The man with the knife steps out of the shadows. Your heartbeat races, and he chuckles. He crouches in front of you.

“You’re a spitfire. I like that. In fact, I love that in a woman, don’t I, Foggy?” He turns his head back slightly.

Foggy answers.

“That you do, man.”

His head turns back to you. But you get the impression by his glasses that he can’t see. So how is he looking right at you?

“If you give us some sort of sass like that again, I’ll stab you and make sure you feel every second of pain.” You whimper, and he laughs again. “Not so cocky anymore, are we, sweetheart?” He stands and goes behind you, his arms landing on the outside of your own, caging you in. He leans down and whispers in your hear, “Is this.. turning you on, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

“Liar.” He whispers back, the knife gracing over your ear. He cuts your ear just enough to make it bleed, and tears slip down your face. He makes his way back to the front of you and crouches again. “I’ll ask you again. How do you know he owes me more?”

“I figured he would, when gamblers start, they don’t stop.”

“Not only did you lie to me again, you also just gave yourself away. Lie to me again and I hurt you worse.”

Your foot that isn’t hurt goes up and kicks him in the face. At least it tries, because his reaction is too quick, and he grabs your ankle.

“Bad, bad girl.” He tuts. He lets go of your leg and picks up your other leg, the one with the bruising, swollen ankle. You start to shake. His hand squeezes the wound and when you yell in pain, he just coos at you. “Aw, does that hurt, sweetheart?”

You’re busy crying.

“Answer me!” He demands. It shakes you to your core. You realize you do not know who you’re dealing with, and you’re even angrier at your father for jeopardizing you like this.

“Yes!” You sob, and this seems to satisfy him. He takes the knife in his other hand and slowly cuts open your stocking, loving the way you’re shaking with fear.

 “Keep moving and you’ll cut yourself.”

You try to calm yourself down, on the verge of a panic attack. The knife grazes your leg, and he starts to focus in on your thigh, twisting the knife around your skin.

“How do you know him?” he asks. And you aren’t sure why you try it. You don’t know how he knows when you lie.

“I’ll find a way to pay you back, just let me go, I promise, I’ll tell you where he is, just—”

Then you feel it.

The knife pierces your thigh and is lodged into your leg. You scream in pain, gripping the arms of the chair. Fuck, it hurts. Your vision blurs, and you’re unsure whether it’s from pain or from your tears.

 He stands up in front of you, ignoring the stares from Karen and Foggy. He knows he might have gone a step too far for someone he’s pretty sure is innocent in all this. But he can’t help himself. He likes hearing you wither in pain, and he likes being the person administering the pain. He has all these things he’s in control of, but at this moment, no one else is in the room. It’s you and him, in a rather intimate moment.

He pats your chin, “C’mon, focus, right here, sweetheart. Tell me the truth and I make the pain go away.” He tells you, breaking through the wall of pain and fear that blocks your ability to think.

“He’s my father!” You finally cry out. It comes out as if you’re yelling in church, screaming to God a confession you can’t bear anymore. The only thing missing is your position on your knees, but being below this man like this is as close to an altar as you can see yourself being. “I know he has a gambling problem, and I know he has a drug problem but that’s it! I don’t know anything else, I just lost the parent roulette, okay?!” Your words come gasped out, in between sobs and when you’re not too distracted with your pain.

He seems to be satisfied with this. He gets back down, closer to the ground. Now he’s the one at the altar, but the devil has no place in a church, only between your thighs. He tilts his head and kisses the inside of your thigh.

“See? Good girls get rewards.” Bad girls get stabbed. He stands up, and with him, he pulls at the knife. Blood gushes as you cry out in pain again, sure he'll leave you to bleed out, to be fed on by rats.

He drops the knife at your feet and adjusts his tie.

“What should we do with her, boss?”

“Go get her father.” He says, “But don’t let her go just yet. I’d like to keep her a while.” You think you’ll be sick. “Knock her out though, we don’t want her knowing where she is.” That’s the last thing before the butt of a gun meets your head.

It’s a nice relief from the pain.  

• • •

You wake up on a bed with silk sheets. It’s almost nice enough for you to forget about the whole situation. Maybe your whole life has been a dream, and really, you’re a rich housewife for a man who loves you deeply and your mom is still alive.

But then you sit up, and your stockings are ripped, and your heels are gone.

A brace wraps around your hurt ankle. A bandage wraps around your thigh. The pain isn’t there anymore, you’re not sure what drugs have been given to you.

The room is rather barren, you realize, with little to no works of art or even photos, and it’s rather dark. It’s also freezing cold, a central air system whirling around you. You wonder, if you’re a prisoner, then why put you in a room like this?

What is happening?

The door opens and immediately you went to defend yourself, though there were no weapons around you.

The man from the night before steps into the room, and he looks... casual. He wears dark jeans and a tee shirt, his glasses discarded. Bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” You don’t respond, just stare at him. “I’m Matt.”

You stay quiet.

“You’re not being tortured anymore, honey. If you want, you can lie and be mean now, I don’t bite. Not anymore. Not unless you want me to.”

“I’m Matt.” You repeat, unable to believe it. “You stab me in the leg and kidnap me, and you go as casual as ‘I’m Matt’?” He grins.

“I told you; I love a woman with some fire.” You wonder how many times he’s used that line on people. “Telling them they’re beautiful just doesn’t hit the same way when you’re blind.” He says, going over to a door, and when he opens it, you realize it’s a closet.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

“No?” He turns to you, and smiles. He says your name. How does he know it? “You went to college for Marketing, cute. No siblings. Your mom died a few years ago, after a long battle with cancer. I’m sorry.” This sounds sincere. “You were engaged once, but he cheated on you and is now married to the other woman.” And he goes back to stinging. “Your father, I know all about him. David is an addict and a gambler. Now, addict, I could deal with. Addiction runs deep but it can be managed. It’s the gambling that frustrates me, and Sweetheart, If I’m frustrated, you must be riled up. He gambles everything, I should know. He gambles it to Foggy, who shares it with me.” He hums. He picks clothes out of the closet and heads back to you, “The pants are your size, but the shirt is mine.” He tells you, laying the clothes out in front of you. “Don’t worry about me watching, or anything.” It’s almost enough to make you smile.

You get changed, the challenge of slipping into the slightly lose jeans the hardest part. The bandage fits right in there, but even whatever pain meds have been given to you, aren’t enough.

“So, your father,” You groan, your face in your hands. You get it, your father is awful, and he hates him, but you know that your father is awful, and you know that you hate him. Why must he keep involving you? “I know, sweetheart, you’re in pain, and you hate him, but just stay with me on this.” he says, a cooing tone to his voice. You don’t know why, but you’re compelled to listen to him. “Your father forces you to live in this small apartment, because you’re the only one who works, and he always manages to find your money to gamble away. But it’s not just the money, it’s your electronics, your nice shoes, any pills you have in the house. And really, by doing all this, he is gambling you. Because not only is he risking not being able to pay his debts and someone taking you, but you’re tired. Aching for absolution that will never come. But the worst part is that even though all this stems from his grief around your mom, he gambled her wedding and engagement rings, the one you were always told you’d be proposed with.”

Tears well your eyes.

“Please, stop.”

He sits next to you on the bed, and you don’t have the energy to move away from him. In fact, you lean against him ever so slightly. He must know it too, you figure, since he can tell when you’re lying and when your heartbeat races. He’s warmer than you imagined. He’s a beacon of warmth in this cold, dim room.

He takes something out of his pocket, and then drops it into your hands. It’s a necklace, just a simple chain. Three things hang on it. A silver charm with an ‘M’ on it, and two rings. Your mom’s engagement ring, and her wedding band. You thought you’d never see it again, not after you came home and went to your jewelry box only to find out from your dad that he had lost it in a poker match a few weeks before.

You clutch the necklace in your hands.

“M for Matt?”

“Or Murdock, whatever you’d like.”

“You’re in charge, right? Just how in charge are you?”

“I run everything. There isn’t a corner of this city that I don’t have men in.” So, he’s the kingpin. The boss. Matt Murdock, a man feared by all, gentle to only you. Only for this moment.

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

“Bun, I was never going to let you go. But I don’t think you want to leave, either.”

You stay quiet. You can’t run. He made sure of that. Was he always going to stab you? Had he decided that from the moment he heard you whimper or was it your reaction to his pet names that did you in?

His fingers come up to graze your ear gently, but you flinch, since it’s where he had cut you.

“Bunnies are always so sensitive to the ears. Fragile. It’s not like you can hop away. Besides, you need time to heal, and I could take away all the pain. No more mean fathers, no more mean bosses, and no more mean thoughts.” He says gently. “I could put you back together.”

His voice is soft, as if his intentions are as well, but you’re sure he’ll destroy you. He will not put you back together, only break you down, collecting tiny pieces of you for his collection.

You consider it. You would never have to work again. You would never have to do anything again. You would never have to see your father again.

You turn your head, and nod.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stay.” It wasn’t as if you had a choice in the matter. But nonetheless, He grins, and takes the necklace from you, only to wrap it around your neck, and clasp it on.

Despite the rings being something you had longed for, the ‘M’ alone weighs on you like a boulder.

He tilts your head gently, his fingers brushing against your chin, and you look away, ashamed of what you have done. He grabs your chin and keeps you looking at him. He leans forward and for a moment you just stay, feeling his hot breath against your lips. Tears escape from your eyes and run down your cheeks. He tuts softly and kisses your cheeks where the tears lie.

“Sh, Sh.. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he comforts. His other hand trails down to your thigh, where two of his fingers find the stab wound, and push into it. You whimper in pain, grasping his wrist. He sighs deeply, “Pretty noises.” He hums. “I would never deny you anything, bun. But if you deny me what I ask, it won’t end well for you. Understand?”

You nod, but when you aren’t verbal, he pushes down harder, the bandage and his fingers soaking with blood.

“Tell me. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, Matt.” You manage to whimper out. He takes his fingers away and kisses your cheek.

“Good. Good job, honey.” He says softly, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and licking your blood off them. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

He leans forward and kisses you, and it’s full of a gentleness you weren’t sure he was capable of. You kiss back, afraid of what he’ll do if you deny him again.

He winds up kissing you to sleep, not mad at you for falling tired as you kiss. You lay with him in these silk sheets, freezing cold as you cuddle into him. He relishes being wanted. You accept that this is love. He feels you shivering and pulls you closer.

His hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tickling the bottom of your torso. You whine when he does this, burying your head in the crook of his neck. He laughs, kissing your head.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll buy you blankets. Blankets, Diamonds, anything you want.” He tells you. You’re tired. You just want to nap. You want him to give you more of the drugs that dull the pain of your thigh, and you want to eat something homemade that you didn’t cook yourself.

You want to give in and remain thoughtless. Just be happy with him since no one is looking for you anyways.

But as you drift off to sleep, feeling his hands crawl along your skin, you begin to plan. You’ll let him think you’re in love with him. You’ll let him love you, fuck you, put you back together. You’ll be his bunny, his arm candy, his toy to dress up and do whatever the fuck he wants. You’ll let him think he owns you.

He’ll know that he does.

And you’ll become close to his friends too. You’ll dress in pretty dresses, and he’ll pretend he’s oblivious to how much everyone wants you.

 And then, when your wounds heal, you’ll run.

You’ll flee the country, you’ll change your name, dye your hair.

But you don’t yet realize how relentless he is. How deeply enamored of you he is. By how determined he is to have you.

Escaping the devil will not be as easy as you think it might, not when he can hear your heartbeat, not when he can smell you, not when he wants you.

And it doesn’t help when he gives you the honor of killing your father.

That’s when you start to fall in love with him.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

"A few people are becoming concerned about you." is not the way you want a conversation with your boss to go. But, if Magnus was being completely honest, Lucretia wasn't the most normal boss in the world. And he couldn't blame her, of course, what with the weapons of mass destruction and the memory-erasing jellyfish, and the— the everything. But still, it was not a conversation he was particularly jazzed about. Especially right now.

It was the middle of the night and he was in the quad, shirtless. He had been running, because he had too much going on in his head. The whole dying eleven times in Refuge thing was— Magnus didn't enjoy it. He didn't enjoy what the Red Robe said about the scroll he was given, or what was on the scroll when Magnus opened it, or that the Red Robe was actually looking out for them, and that the missions kept getting harder, or—

"I'm fine," Magnus said. Ooh, nat one on that bluff check. The Director— Lucretia— Lucretia gave him a look of deep and utter doubt. Magnus… had no defense.

"Wanna reroll?" she asked.

"No," Magnus said. "No, I mean— who's concerned?"

Lucretia had been quite the shock to see mid-run. Mid-run at midnight, nonetheless. And if Magnus had tried to punch her after being startled and she had whacked him on the head really bad with her staff— well, Magnus wouldn't tell if she didn't tell. And by the fact that he saw her physically sneaking past the HR office the other day, he had a pretty good feeling she wouldn't.

Maybe the hit had actually done a bit of damage, though, with the way this conversation was heading. Magnus felt a little light-headed. Not a good mid-run feeling.

"A few people," she said again, as if that helped any.

"Well, uh, tell 'em I'm— I'm doing great." Lucretia grimaced, as if she was embarrassed by his lie. "Okay, Luce, sure! What do you want out of me? I'm not— I'm not doing fantastic but I'm holding up pretty well. Comparatively."

Comparatively to other years, maybe? Minus all the death-related anxieties.

"One," Lucretia said. Her grimace hadn't faded just yet, but now it held a twist of something closer to discomfort. "Don't call me Luce, it's— it's the Director, or Madam Director—"

"You know I'm not gonna use those."

"I know," Lucretia sighed. "Two— it's just… well…" she paused. "I know talking about… past events can be— can be difficult, sometimes. But I…" she tapped her fingers against her staff. "I want to offer you my condolences. For Julia."

Magnus felt his stomach drop. Not— not in a bad way? Maybe? Maybe, actually, in a bad way, he didn't— he didn't know.

It had been six years. And last year had been bad but this year was— was—

Julia would have loved to be part of something like this. It was Magnus who was ready to settle down and live a little private life— what's the point of fighting for a life you'll never get to live, right? But Julia had been so full of life, so excited for whatever they'd do next, what would come after the Continental Craftsmen Showcase, how much prize money that she was sure he was going to bring home— and even then, they agreed on some peace. Neither of them were homebodies, but they needed a home for a little while.

And, for a little while, they had it. Until they didn't— until he didn't.

"Thank you," Magnus whispered, unable to get his voice any louder.

"It's hard," the Director said, leaning against her staff. "Having the people that you love just— just gone like that. Knowing you could have done something… Even though nothing you tried to do would be enough."

She trailed off, looking into the distance. She looked very much like the Director role in this moment. A woman who had truly seen too much. He was sure that the power dynamic between them was not the only reason why the Director kept a tight seal on her past.

"I—" Magnus paused, twisting his fingers up in his pockets. "You too?"

"Hm?" Lucretia blinked, as if she had forgotten he was there for a moment. "In— in a way, yes, I suppose. Not— not to compare our issues, of course, it's just— I get it, Magnus. It's— it's hard to lose everyone you love in one swoop. And we both know there's no way to change the past—"

"Except the Chalice," Magnus said.

"Except— yes, I suppose the Chalice is an exception, though it's not one worth the try. But for what it's worth, Magnus? I think Julia would be proud of you."

The weight in his chest lifted a bit in the way his run had not had the chance to do. Magnus sniffed.

"Thank you," he said. "I— you too."

Lucretia let out a shaky exhale.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a little watery. She cleared her throat. "I think it is time for both of us to get some rest. I'm sure I'll see you around some other regular, normal time." Magnus grinned. "Good night, Magnus."

"Night, Luce," he said, and she winced, but didn't correct him. He turned back toward the dorms, and she turned back toward her office. After a few paces, he heard he say,

"And Magnus?"

He turned to face her again.

"Yeah?"

"Don't—"

"Don't tell anyone about you hitting me in the head," Magnus said. "Yeah, I know."

"I was going to say "don't be a stranger" but that— that one, too, yes."

[ourladyofoldgotham]

i'd be your mistress (just to keep you around)

jonathan crane x gender neutral reader

NSFW 18+, minors dni

infidelity, angst, smut

summary

On a summer night, Dr. Jonathan Crane sneaks away from his life for a few hours to be with you.

It’s a warm August evening in Gotham, in the dusky hours before night falls and after the sun goes down. You hear his car before you see it - with practice, you can recognize it even in the milieu of the evening rush on the highway below your balcony, like a voice in a crowd. Your lover always calls late. 

He lets himself in. You’ve never been particularly bothered by that. After all, he has a right to it. The money he pays you every month covers over half your rent, plus a solid chunk of your grocery bill- there’s no way you could get a place like this on your own acting.

 Sometimes you wonder exactly why he does it - out of affection? A need to know you’re safe and cared for when he’s not there? Out of his own self-preservation? A way to make sure his tires stay unslashed and his reputation tidy when he comes to visit? Or out of guilt?

You try not to wonder. It’s easier to leave things unquestioned, with him. He makes it easy, honestly. You think about it more than you should when you’re alone- about whether it’s right to need him and have him in his respites from his beautiful life - but under his sharp, lonely gaze, it feels like it melts away. It’s just you and him. The rest doesn’t matter. Not right then. 

He seems distracted when he unlocks the door. He is more often than not, these days. A perfect life can drive a man mad. There’s always something on his mind. Sometimes he’ll tell you about it absentmindedly, sitting back on the couch with a vodka martini while he undresses you with his eyes. It’s usually work things - a fascinating case, or a particularly troubled patient. He asks you your thoughts on it, and there’s something you find charming about it. As though he sees you as someone far more intelligent than you seem, as more than the sum of your parts. Sometimes, he refuses to - avoiding the question and your gaze as his hands slip under your shirt while you fix him a drink. That’s when you know it’s about his other life. His children, maybe. Issues with school or an argument with his wife. The things he really comes to you to forget. You wonder sometimes if they know - if they ever put something together from all of the evenings spent away. 

He used to be more than just an evening caller. A couple years ago, he’d even spent the whole weekend with you. It had been the only thing you’d asked for for your birthday that year, and he had been willing to provide it. Between the wild sex, you’d done normal things together. He took you out to the fair and won you a prize. You went to dinner. You felt like a normal couple, like something to be shown off on his arm and not hidden away. Maybe that was the problem.

He was gone early Monday morning - you didn’t wake up to see him go, but you could have sworn you heard your door shut before the sun came up. After that, it was radio silence. Brief periods of quiet on his end are typical, he’s a busy man, but it had never been anything like this. There was always a little something to tide you over - a text, a little treat showing up on your doorstep, a call when he’s driving home from work. This was something else, something more worrying. At first you scanned the obituaries, the news, any accident reports that you could get your hands on going about your day. Maybe something had happened. Nothing showed up. You texted, of course. You called. No reply. He read them, sometimes, though. They delivered. You read into that. Maybe more than you should have. On the 12th of the month his money still showed up in your account. No note. 

It did that four more times before you saw him again. He called you out of the blue one cold night in early December and asked if you were home. The exhaustion in his voice made your heart melt in seconds. You were out of practice making the martini, but when you cut your hand making the twist and ran out of vodka he kissed you on the cheek and said that anything you made would have been fine. The two of you ended up with hot spiked cider instead, curled up on the couch together. He was sweet, but he didn’t seem all there that night. He didn’t seem to want much from you but your company. He mentioned something offhandedly about the new baby, and he left you there alone just a couple hours after he came. His drink was still on the coffee table untouched. 

To his credit, he was better about the silence after. He texted, sometimes, but so much less than before. Maybe a couple of times a month, one or two a week if you got lucky. It was the first time you ever really realized the vastness of his life outside of your apartment, and it served as a wakeup call. You stopped looking for auditions and started looking for jobs. The next time he came over your table was covered in applications and classified ads. 

He asked about it. He looked confused, almost nervous. You spilled your heart out to him, of course. You never could keep a secret from him, and when you finished, there was a softness in his eyes that made you want to break down crying. He told you that you didn’t need that - that you never would. That he couldn’t always be there when you wanted him, or when he wanted you, but that he would always be there when you needed him. He told you that he loved you. It was the first time he said it. You tried your best to believe him.

You’ve been his thing on the side for four years now. You’ve gotten good at it. A distraction, a comfort for a couple hours in the night when he needs you in exchange for his money and as little of his time as you can manage. He has a life outside of you. He calls you on his terms. You make yourself as easily compartmentalized as possible. 

When he comes in tonight, you have his drink in your hand and you’re already dressed up for him. He isn’t really looking at you. You’ve learned to be okay with that. You take his hand and lead him to the couch, setting his glasses aside on the coffee table.

You push him back and there’s no resistance. Your hand brushes against his cheek as you stand over him and he smiles, leaning into the soft touch. You lean in for a kiss and he melts underneath you. When you deepen it, he reaches up to hold you, one hand on the small of your back and the other undoing your shirt. 

You pull back and look at him and he looks wrecked already, his icy blue irises barely a ring around his widened pupils. When he sighs and drops his head into the crook of your neck you know he needed this as much as you did. Maybe more. 

You sink to the floor and kneel in front of him. He’s still in his suit, but it’s disheveled now, his shirt crumpled from where you grabbed onto him with his sleeves haphazardly rolled up. His face is flushed, and when you touch him over his slacks he throws his head back and whines. You don’t tease him for too long, though, just mouthing at him over his boxers for a minute. His hand is covering his mouth as he lets out a shaky moan when you pull out his cock, already rock-hard and dripping with precum. 

You‘ve had your fair share of practice, and you know exactly what he likes. You sink your head down to his base almost immediately, and his hips buck up into your mouth. He apologizes for it through shaky breaths, but there’s something that drives you crazy about knowing he needs you badly enough for the infamous Jonathan Crane to lose control. His hand tugs at your hair, guiding you as you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. He arches his back and shivers, pulling you off. 

“I…don’t want to finish this here. Go to the bedroom. Get ready for me.”

You get up, legs just a little shaky, and leave him on the couch with a kiss on his neck. You open yourself up for him, but he takes a longer time than you thought he would coming in. When he does, you feel that distance between the two of you again. His hand caresses your cheek softly, and you stand up to undress him properly. You’re tender with him, almost. You kiss his neck. You bring him back down to earth. He groans a little and sits down on the bed, pulling you close to him. Something in his eyes makes you feel like this is the first time he’s seen you in a long time. 

“You look wonderful tonight, darling. Can’t think of what I could have done for all this to be for me.”

He smiles and grazes a kiss across your knuckles, raising your hand to his lips.

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him as you sink down onto his cock. It takes him by surprise, almost, his breath shaky. You opened yourself up while you were waiting, but you’re still hot and tight around him. Your legs are spread, your thighs on either side of his lap, and he clings onto them as you start to move - slowly, then switching to a breakneck pace when you find the spot inside that makes you see stars. For a minute, you falter, and then his hands are on you again, on your hips bouncing you on his cock, and then one reaching between your bodies to touch you. He is a terribly skilled man with his hands, and before you know it, you’re cumming on his chest. He guides you through it, soft and gentle, moving your hips through a slow roll, toying with the line where the pleasure becomes overstimulation. 

He’s stronger than he looks, and he lays you down gently on the bed in the haze afterwards. He kneels between your legs above you, pulling your hips up to meet his. It’s only a few thrusts before you hear his breath start to quicken, his movements erratic. He’s over you now, cheeks hot and flushed, his blue eyes fluttering shut. You press one hand against his chest and the other on the back of his head to pull him in for a desperate kiss, but before you can, he’s pulling back, hand on the bed to steady himself as he pulls out and cums onto you. 

He falls onto the bed next to you, and your hand intertwines with his, as easy as breathing. You can feel his heartbeat slowing as your head rests on his shoulder. He kisses you on the forehead and pulls you just a little closer, and for a moment the world seems perfectly atop its axis. 

He catches his breath for a couple of minutes before he rolls out of bed. You hear the faucet running for a couple of minutes and watch the golden light slip out from under the door around his lean shadow. When he comes back, he's presentable again, and he hands you a warm washcloth. He gets dressed in silence as you clean yourself up. 

With his shirt still unbuttoned, he leaves the room and steps out onto the balcony. You watch him for a minute, through the open bedroom door. The glow of the cherry on his cigarette lights up his face against the dim blue sky. He looks older than you remember him looking. More tired. More distant. You catch a glimpse of your own reflection in the glass. You do too. 

You slip out of the glass door behind him, dressed in your pajamas - his old shirt and boxers. It's chilly, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You stay there for a while, his warmth against your side, while he finishes his cigarette. Neither of you speak. Gotham looks softer in the dying light. It's him that breaks the silence first. 

"I love you. You have to know that."

"More than you love your life now? That I don't."

He looks away. 

"I don't blame you for it. I wish I could sometimes. But I can't."

As you speak, you take a cigarette from the box in his hand. You lean in and he lights it for you from the embers of his. 

"There are things about me that you don't know. Some for your own good. Some for mine. Maybe you should blame me."

His jaw is tense, and there’s a sadness in his eyes. 

"You think I'm a far better man than you should. I wish you could understand."

"Maybe I could."

"I'm not giving you up on a maybe."

Your cigarette is finished and the night is cold, a silence falling over the two of you. It's half-past-midnight when he tells you he has to go.

You ask him to stay. You rarely do these days. When you do, it’s somewhere between a weakness and an indulgence and a hope. 

He says no. He always does. 

There’s something in the dark outside at night these days that unsettles you. Some sinking fear in the pit of your chest. You tackle it tonight to stand on the balcony after he says goodbye at the door. You watch his car crawl back out of the city through the evening traffic until you lose it in the crowd. By the time his car turns into a dark alley downtown, you are in a fitful sleep. He does not think of either of the lives waiting for him among the bright lights. 

The next morning, reports will rise of a new villain on Gotham’s roster. “The Scarecrow”, they’re calling him. Panic about fear toxins and phobia will drip from the edges of the morning paper, but you won’t spare them a second glance. All you can do is trust. All you can do is wait for him to come back and pray that maybe this time he’ll stay. 

thanks for reading

[koiiiiijiii]

just sharing my thoughts about Hwangyeon in general!!

⊹♡ spoiler frames from latest chapter under ♡⊹

i fully aware that Hwang is a bad person and character, according to his actions in webtoon, but gosh, i like his latest development(?) like now we know he clearly have some issues to establish and prove himself, especially in Sangho’s eyes, in any possible way, and he wouldn’t care if it is bad or inappropriate. i feel that he also may have some problems due to lack of parental love because Aria once mentioned that their parents are gone.

so my headcanon about him is that he seeking attention and approval from his entourage, but he never received honest feedback or reactions (Aria’s reaction are always honest tho)bc his whole "friends groups" was built around him because of his brother’s money. so when he actually get some random compliment, he is shocked, he don’t know how to react, especially if it will be from girl.

so i think he would be trying to get same reaction over and over again, bringing flowers, gifts, everything, just give him approval that he is good at something. he is dependent on the encouragement of resentful people who he likes or who remain loyal to him, as was the case with his friend in the last chapter, that Hwang still kept him in his team (and hopefully actually planned share prize money with him, his dedication to Hwang, as a shitty person, deserves it.)

back to topic, my headcanon that Hwang definitely will worship his partner only in case if she will be sincere and genuine with him, but he is ready only to good criticism of course, he scared to receive something cold or negative, because it is probably what his brother used to do through his all life.

all in all, i feel like he will be sweet as a boyfriend, fulfilling his partner’s desires and wishes, and only what he expects in return is approval and same dedication.

as i said, i know that he is not the best, but i just feel that he kinda broken boy and need some resuarence... but he is my bby pookie wookie so no judging here, we all used to like bad guys once🙌🏻🙌🏻

[trofysisters]

Надя

Пока Надя, аккомпанируя себе, пела: "Я построю гарем на 400 мест", Ксан Ксаныч полыхал от ярости. Да как ему посмели изменить! Ему - такому идеальному! (While Nadya, accompanying herself, sang: “I will build a harem for 400 people,” Ksan Ksanych was blazing with rage. How dare she cheat on him! He is so perfect!)

Возможно, это была месть, а возможно нахлынувшие чувства, но он бросился в объятия коварной соблазнительницы прямо на глазах у жены. (Perhaps it was revenge, or perhaps surging feelings, but he threw himself into the arms of the insidious seductress right in front of his wife)

Надю к такому жизнь не готовила. Никто не смел с ней так поступать! Да Ксан Ксаныч ноги ей целовать должен за то, что она снизошла и вышла за него замуж! Она ради него переехала из собственного дома в маленькую комнатушку в общежитии! Неблагодарный! (Life didn’t prepare Nadya for this. No one dared to do this to her! Yes, Ksan Ksanych should kiss her feet because she condescended to marry him! She moved from her own house to a small dorm room for him! Ungrateful!)

- Ну и вали в свою тайгу, - грубо посоветовала ей коварная соблазнительница. (“Well, go to your taiga,” the insidious seductress rudely advised her)

Как бы не так! Чтобы эти двое на супружеской кровати Нади обжимались? Не дождетесь! Надя полностью оккупировала комнату, отказавшись пускать неверного мужа даже на порог. Но ночью заснуть ей не удалось. Она постоянно прислушивалась к шуму в соседней комнате, принадлежащей коварной соблазнительнице, страдая от ревности. (Never! For these two to cuddle on Nadya’s marital bed? They won't get it! Nadya completely occupied the room, refusing to let her unfaithful husband into the room. But she couldn't sleep that night. She constantly listened to the noise in the next room, which belonged to the insidious seductress, and suffered from jealousy)

Однако ревновала она зря: Ксан Ксаныч ночевал у своего друга, Алешки, и бессовестно храпел, мешая тому спать. (However, she was jealous in vain: Ksan Ksanych spent the night with his friend, Alyoshka, and snored shamelessly, preventing him from sleeping)

А ведь Алешка устал. Целый день он провел в клубе, пытаясь выиграть приз на соревновании танцоров. (But Alyoshka is tired. He spent the whole day in the club, trying to win a prize in a dancing competition)

Вот только обскакал его менеджер - бывший второй муж Нади. Пришлось Алешке глушить досаду алкоголем. (But the manager, Nadya’s former second husband, got ahead of him. Alyosha had to drown out his frustration with alcohol)

Небольшие деньги он всё же заработал, когда Ди-джей попросил Алешку его подменить. (He still made some money when the DJ asked Alyoshka to replace him)

Денежный вопрос у парней стоял остро. После отъезда Петра его комната пустовала, и предприимчивый Ксан Ксаныч решил найти квартиранта, чтобы он тоже вносил квартплату. На объявление отозвалась миловидная женщина. (The money issue was acute for the guys. After Peter left, his room was empty, and the enterprising Ksan Ksanych decided to find a tenant so that he would also pay the rent. A pretty woman responded to the ad)

Алешка сначала не поверил, что с ними по соседству будет жить такая красавица, и побежал устранять соперника в лице Ксан Ксаныча, чтобы показать, кто в этом общежитии альфа-самец. (At first Alyoshka did not believe that such a beauty would live next door to them, and ran to eliminate his rival in the person of Ksan Ksanych to show who the alpha male in this hostel was)

Как оказалось, у соседки было большое сердце, в котором хватит места каждому: и Алешке, и Ксан Ксанычу. А еще у коварных соблазнительниц, похоже, есть униформа. (As it turned out, the neighbor had a big heart in which there was enough room for everyone: Alyosha and Ksan Ksanych. And the wily seductresses also seem to have a uniform)

Пока Ксан Ксаныч целовал одну, думал он о другой. (While Ksan Ksanych was kissing one, he was thinking about the other)

Новая соседка была такой очаровательной, что Ксан Ксаныч захотел пригласить ее на свидание, а она оказалась не против. Только брак не предлагайте. (The new neighbor was so charming that Ksan Ksanych wanted to invite her on a date, and she didn’t mind. Just don’t propose marriage to her)

Алешке тоже хотелось любви, поэтому он позвонил по давно выученному номеру телефона. Уж его красавица ему точно не откажет. (Alyoshka also wanted love, so he called the phone number he had learned a long time ago. The beauty will definitely not refuse him)

Он даже расщедрился и пригласил красавицу в ресторан. (He even became generous and invited the beauty to the restaurant)

Но было им совсем не до еды. И пусть весь мир подождет! (But they had no time for food at all. And let the whole world wait!)

Надя вернулась с работы в задумчивости. Она уже давно не молода, но чего она добилась за эти годы? По крайней мере, у нее есть сын. Если он окажется способным, получит стипендию, то значит, хоть что-то у нее получилось, и ее жизнь прожита не зря. (Nadya returned from work thoughtfully. She is no longer young, but what has she achieved over the years? At least she has a son. If he turns out to be capable and receives a scholarship, it means that at least she has succeeded in something, and her life has not been lived in vain)

А чего хочет Надя для себя? Мелочь: заработать 62 500 симолеонов. Пожелаем ей удачи. (What does Nadya want for herself? Not much: she wants to earn 62,500 Simoleons. Let's wish her good luck)

[vampirae]

Astrology knowledge + personal notes

Disclaimer! Some paragraphs are pure astrological knowledge, others are just mine personal opinions and experiences. Experiences aren't universal, it may apply to some and not to others.

You don't feel like the 4th house is accurately describing your family dynamics or traumas? Nice, then look at your 2nd house. The 4th house talks about your family, but mostly about your roots, generational trauma, your country, your literal home etc. Meanwhile the infamous 2nd house associated always exclusively with money, in reality is linked directly to your childhood, your family dynamics/setting, values or traumas they gave you, also your literal future family etc. E.g. Venus in the 2nd house is associated with being spoiled or likely to be giving gifts or favours, but why? Probably because in their childhood caregivers tried to "buy their love" so they associate gifts to being loved. Look at the planets in your 2nd house, its ruler, and the aspects etc.

Cancer sun men, usually tend to be cheap or stingy, literally, never met a Cancer sun man in my life who isn't so, if they behave differently it's usually because it suits their own personal agenda, or try to manipulate you.

Aries moon women tend to post absolutely gorgeous photos, they're so artistic, and know how to take or edit photos or videos.

Cancer rising is so funny, relatable or friendly, they naturally attract people or masses, they're charismatic in their own way, but they tend to be private and dislike when people invade too much of their personal space without permission; some will cut you immediately off, others will be waiting patiently for you to finally understand you're being inappropriate, literally no in between.

Moon in the 12th house, from my own personal experiences, terrible friends. Likely to be great companions if you want to get high or drink or talk about whatever without being judged, but literally avoid them in "no chill time". Extremely manipulative, always victim of the circumstances, helpless and problematic. Briefly, if you don't want to find yourself being a free therapist for hours, a free ATM or parenting a whole ass adult, just avoid getting closer to them. On the other hand, great and sacrificial lovers, but vampiric succubus as friends. (To the people asking me which 12th house moon hurt me, well too many my darling, this is why they're on my blacklist).

When it comes to raw sexual libido mars in fall and detriment are the ones most usually labelled with low libido, which is true, but still in my opinion and experiences they're not on the same level. Mars is Cancer is the one with the highest libido between the three, then Libra and last Taurus. Furthermore men with this mars (the aforementioned) are more prone to have issues with their, ahem, "friend". But, gladly, they also have wild fantasies and are more prone to compromise or satisfy their partner's desires. E.g. if you want them to be dominant, they'll try their best to be your Master/Daddy etc. Last but not least, despite being "shy" and at first look traditional, they're more open to use toys or try new sex positions if it's your will, but won't share you (so threesome or orges literally it's a big NO if they truly love you).

Sagittarius and Cancer placements are competitive AF, but the last one will give up if they're gonna lose or act uninterested, or just whine in the corner about how life is unjust with them. Sagittarius placements, will look chill and playful, but they're extremely competitive, not only because of the prize, but it's a great opportunity to learn something new, or master some of their skills, or just an adrenaline shot. Literally, they're second to Aries when it comes to competing, yet people are unaware of this nature because of their nonchalant and sometimes dumbass vibes/behaviour.

Talking about Sagittarius placements again, when they're labeled as funny, don't think they're master at telling jokes or giving clever clapbacks, in fact, earth signs are masters of this type of humour. Sagittarius placements are funny because of their spontaneous nature: like saying some weird or shocking things with a serious face, or doing some WTF stuff, literally they're funny in original ways and something you never expected. With time they'll acquire a more "normal" sense of humour, but usually they're memorable for their unexpected humour.

Virgo really needs some structure or specific goals or tasks. They could have a hard time with unspecific projects, games or work, they'll literally stay there like a NPC waiting for your interaction or order, analysing the situations, outcomes and necessities.

Libra placements are charming and a good company, their indecisiveness is forgivable most of the time, until you have to work with them. It can be so stressful sometimes to work with or under a Libra (sun, rising or mars), you never know when they'll change their idea again or return to an old project, or what you have to do. I'm sorry to say it, but they're problematic bosses and owners. To lift yourself from this curse, there are few options, like changing job or aggressive yet polite confrontation, just to make it clear, next time you won't forgive and neither make you lose your time again, because it's the only resource you can't buy or restore.

[yanderes-galore]

Hurraahh!, saw the Junkenstein! Junkrat in the drafts and I think, how about a Van Helsing! Cassidy concept

-🍀anon

Sure! Here's my thoughts on him :)

Yandere! Van Helsing! Cassidy Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Death/Murder, Stalking, Manipulation, Overprotective/Possessive behavior, Some violence, Creepy behavior, Forced/Dubious relationship.

If I'm correct this version of Cassidy would be one of the mercenaries hired to protect the lord of the castle from Junkenstein.

He is called The Gunslinger and has taken up monster hunting as his job.

I would assume he'd be a monster hunter due to what this skin is based on, even if I have not seen the original source material.

Cassidy has been hired by many to track down monsters, Adlersbrunn is no different to him.

He could be hired at Adlersbrunn and finds a cute townsperson such as you to "get to know better".

As long as he's paid he doesn't mind slaying any monster.

I imagine this version of Cassidy is still as flirty as any other version.

Just because he happens to be a gunslinging monster hunter doesn't mean he isn't also a flirt.

Perhaps Cassidy hits up one of the bars in the town to get a drink before setting off to do more work.

That's when he meets you either working the bar or also drinking in it.

Unsurprisingly Cassidy tries charming you, complimenting you on a sweet tone while explaining what he does since you asked so nicely.

This could be your first encounter with the monster hunter.

Another encounter could be being saved by him.

Be it being attacked by a monster or even normal human attackers, Cassidy rolls in to dispatch them.

He may even comment on the fact you two have met before with a wink.

What may start getting suspicious is when he shows up everywhere.

You can try to excuse it as him just having work to do for the lord here.

He's got to just be sleeping in an inn, right?

However... it's weird how he always searches you in particular out when he wants a chat.

His flirting used to be charming... now it seems strange.

Behind your back Cassidy is tracking your movements like the very monsters he hunts.

Ever since your first meeting you've caught the hunter's eye.

Even the faint look of fear on your face is enough to have him wanting more.

He can't help but let his eyes wander to you.

While watching you from afar he takes a drag of his cigar and winks when you look over.

Oh, baby, he doesn't mean you any harm!

If anything he'll protect you, it's what he's good at.

Cassidy would try to play his cards right other than watching you from the corner of your eye.

He wants to get closer to you so he can make you trust him.

He's pretty good with the whole charisma thing, his tone sounding sweet like honey as he charms you.

Maybe you'll fall for him, or still find his advances creepy.

No worries, he'll wait for a pretty thing such as you.

Perhaps he'll orchestrate a monster attack just so he can save you again.

Or maybe hire a set of goons to dispatch just to do the same thing.

Cassidy is one to try and plan things out around the two of you.

Even if you try to ignore him, he always seems to be around.

Maybe he'll ask the lord if he can have you as payment instead of the money?

Crude... yet he still ponders the idea for a moment.

He knows soon he needs to put some plan into action.

He's starting to grow irritated at the people around you.

Soon it seems like he'll never leave town until he finds a solution to his obsession issue.

Sure... the money from his jobs is good...

But you seem to be a much better prize altogether once he has his hands on you.

[respectthepetty]

But what if Sand rejects Ray?!! I am gonna be devastated.

Anon,

SAND SHOULD REJECT RAY IF HE KNOWS WHAT IS GOOD FOR HIM!

Everyone is screaming at Nick to run far away from Boston, but this entire friend group is terrifying! I'm even yelling at cocky Top to back away from Mew before his entire life gets turned inside out. So if I'm praying Top comes to his slutty senses, know that I've already lit six candles for Sand to save himself from what Ray is about to do to him (I'm Catholic; we light candles and pray to saints. It's like speaking to a department manager for an issue instead of going directly to the supervisor).

Mew is a virginal slut (uses sex as a prize). Boston is a predatory slut (uses sex to feel superior). But Sand is dealing with a top level Slut for Christ, and we are the worst kind of slut.

We have that Christian Trauma™, so we invent new ways of sinning, then cope with it in the worst ways. The OG Slut for Christ, Cruel Intentions' Kathryn Merteuil, had a rosary with cocaine in the crucifix. We are NOT part of the problem. WE ARE THE WHOLE FUCKING PROBLEM!

We know we are messes, but we are too busy being attention whores to deal with those pesky feelings constantly gnawing at the inside of our brains telling us we are bad people.

Remember, Ray thought Sand had sex with him WHEN HE WAS DRUNK, and Ray was fine with that because when he evaluated the situation, at least Sand was attractive.

Ray thinks he deserves bad things to happen to him because he thinks he is a bad person, so being sexually assaulted by someone when he couldn't consent isn't that bad considering the guy was hot, right?

Ray doesn't think he deserves kindness. He doesn't think he deserves respect, and his friends don't give it to him. They make jokes at his expense, and call him a burden (because he is!). Which is why he hasn't gone after Mew. Mew is good. Mew is kind. Mew would never be with someone bad like Ray.

Which is why he will soak up all the love Sand is willing to give him,

just to throw it all back in Sand's face like the toxic bitch he is.

Because when you don't think you deserve good things, you will do everything to prove just how bad you are.

Ray has childhood trauma. He has Christian Trauma™. And he has money.

He is lethal.

So if y'all are upset at Dangerous Romance's Kanghan for being the biggest bully and the littlest bitch, know that Kanghan and Ray are BOTH Sluts for Christ. They have trauma, and they have money, and they will BOTH use that money to control people.

Because why else would someone hang out with a proven bad boy who has nothing going for him but his money if money wasn't involved? Ray followed Sand THREE TIMES, and each time, Sand was persuaded by money.

I haven't seen him take any money from Ray, but Sand has already set it up for Ray to believe that he can be bought, and Misery loves company, even if he has to pay for it.

And Ray will make Sand miserable.

It's the one thing we are good at.

[cyberpunk-20xx]

Kerry's situation is a very painful reminder of how fucked up the game's canon society is, even to the rich people. Which is maybe my biggest gripe with the game. A game where I'm not given even the slightlest chance to change shit around me, a game that's just so pessimistic and cruel in how it treats its characters, so hopeless, is not punk. but that's smth else entirely to talk about.

Back to Kerry. He's less suicidal at the end of the game when V reached out and helped some to sooth his trauma about Johnny, even if one could argue it's maybe just, well, putting him back where he started or indulging a toxic fixation. Depends on your interpretation. But his situation hasn't actually changed, he's still held by his label in a death grip, even if at least his current manager's supposedly out of the picture. But even that i don't believe. All we know for sure is that we burned his yatch. Like. Kerry tells us that his MSM Record manager (can't remember his name and be bothered to check) makes him drink on purpose to get him to sign shit, which is blatant abuse and all we get to do is fucking burn a boat? Let me make the dude a corpse, even if you make me have to work for it jfc.

I really love when fanfic writers actually address that issue btw, because it really hurts me to think about him being left in this bullshit. And in so many endings we know his situation is less than ideal even with V.

Kerry's profound unhappiness is visible in many ways: the state of his house, his insinuated addictions, his impulsive, self-destructive behaviors, his tendency to lash out and paranoia to assume people are against him, and overall defensiveness, his fear of the unknown, his clinging to fame, his refusal to see his kids, his mentioned and hinted suicide attempts. He's a guy who, at 89, doesn't seem to me like he knows what he wants, what he needs.

Personally, it both hurts me and makes me really like him, because I find him relatable in how he reacts to despair. In that aspect, I find him very well-written, even if a lot of shitty tropes and pop star stereotypes are used. Yes, pop stars one.

(One other thing that's devastating about Kerry is that he's a rocker, but he doesn't act like one, according to his own definition (which seems to really just be Johnny's shitty macho definition altho it's a whole label that precedes both of them in the TTRPG lore). Which wouldn't be a problem to me if he also didn't find the genre inferior to rock.)

But what fucks me up the most is that he's dealing with despair at all, when out of the four LIs, he's the one that has the safest, most stable life. Hell, he could even easily leave Night City and never look back, and still create, he's got the money for it, it might sound terribly materialistic of me but the man has enough money to just no longer be dealing with all this shit. But he's stuck there because even at nearly fucking nine decades of life, he's not yet felt seen, heard, or acknowledged. He's still scrambling for his roots and something to look forward at once.

Kerry is 89 and has the self-esteem of a 23 years old still.

If I just listen to my basest instincts, I blame Johnny for a lot of that, but that's the easy way, actually. If I actually think about it, Kerry's responsible of his own life too, and Johnny got nothing to do with how he feels out of touch with his Filipino roots, or him being a burnt out rockstar, Johnny is not that powerful at all, and mostly I blame Arasaka and the corps, and i blame the music industry in the game especially actually, i blame the media and the fans for how Kerry bit by bit stops feeling human in the spotlight, but the thing is, it's harder to be angry at those, even in game. Because we're not actually given meaningful ways to do something about inequality in game, and when you're unable to fight something, your brain becomes apathetic to it. It's just a survival thing. my brain does that a lot. i prize my anger a lot because of that (probably why i am so attached to Johnny tbh).

I think Kerry craves to be seen as the man he is, but his ways to try and fix that is to feed the demigod image his career upholds. I'm mad we can't do something about it, nor see the change he deserves happen. I'm mad a game with "punk" in its name is so hopeless and cynical.

[blednokrov]

SBR OC: Lemonade Joe. Backstory under the cut!

A Czech immigrant to USA, he had a great career in theater and soon became one of most loved actors - First Lady herself visited several of his plays and talked about him in kind words. Sadly, he quickly developed gambling addiction and got in massive debts which even his fat paychecks couldn't help with. His career started flopping when he began to prioritize quantity over quality in hopes of making more money

Participating in Steel Ball Run was supposed to become a great promotional campaign for him, and he was fully sponsored for participating by a bookmaker agency who found and put him in the race in the first place; what they're actually planning is a big scam - to use his fame as a way to get people place bets on him, then force him to heroically lose not far away from the start ("play a hero, man, isn't it what you're good at?") and have the money. Joe gets a nice juicy chunk of those betting money and his fans back, what a nice deal!

The issue was, they didn't account for the fact that they're sending a literal gambling junkie into a competitive race with a giant prize - one that, unlike his share in scam, would allow Joe to get rid of his whole debt, not just a bigger part of it. So, of course he decided he can actually win! And never showed up to the place where they were supposed to fake an accident that would cause him to leave the race. He just... Kept going. If he never leaves the race, then the bookmaker company is risking all the money people bet on Joe, so they quickly hired a couple of bandits to "deal" with him. It doesn't matter if he dies- no wait, it does. It will make the merch prices skyrocket! So it's a win win situation for them whether the goons kill Joe or not when getting him out of the race.

[pinkandpurple360]

… You know I always kind of assumed Ozzie was under a binding demonic contract by Mammon or something (remember, Oz is “the weakest sin”) to make the Fizzbots. But maybe not because Oz did fight back eventually? Was he doing it because of blackmail about his relationship until he reached the breaking point? And was he taking the blackmail because he genuinely cared about his imag, or was it because he thought “oh fuck if we go public everyone’s gonna try kidnapping/murdering over fizzy (which is what exactly happened in Oops) because they know it’s a weakness and I am in hell?” I think a lot of these factors influence how I interpret the morality of this situation. No idea if the show will ever go into it though. Probably not.

Fizz keeps going back and forth in regards to sexuality. Like I guess he likes the Lust Ring and being a sex symbol at Ozzie’s because he feels safe there and is being sexual for/with his boyfriend. But even then you have creepy people yelling that they have four of him and that makes him visibly uncomfortable. When it’s packaged as a production I guess that makes him uncomfortable? But isn’t his whole thing like “he’s a sellout?” Or maybe it’d like there’s a difference between being a “sex symbol” like Marilyn Monroe and being a porn star with sexbots built of you. Maybe that’s what Viv was going for?

But it feels so unclear because I don’t think Fizz has a consistent personality. Like who is the real Fizz. Have we met the real Fizz? Is the “sexy” Fizz a mask? Is “uwu” Fizz a mask? Is “gremlin” Fizz a mask? He uses all three to please other people. Hell even kid Fizz and teen Fizz are two EVEN DIFFERENT personalities (granted people change a lot from childhood/teenage hears). My guy has been performing his entire life that he doesn’t know how to turn it “off.” I’d say he needs a therapist but I don’t think they exist in hell.

I did not mean to go on a tangent, you don’t have to publish my psychoanalysis of Fizzarolli if you’re too burnt out. I actually don’t care about any of the five main characters that much, the side characters are more interesting to me

God Viv…if that’s what was happening it makes me completely doubt Asmodeus’ ability to protect Fizz. Not to mention something I hate in fiction when a story tries to make someone’s trauma a “shared” trauma, when there’s absolutely no way Ozzie is as traumatised as Fizz is by all of this. It’s so so easy to make it go away by having Asmodeus do this mistake on purpose, then regret it deeply, aspire to change, and not hurt someone like that again. That’s character growth and moral greyness and as a demonic sin of lust makes complete sense.

Yeah I need to know what people mean by sellout, because doing things out of character for you in order to make money

^^^^ makes complete sense!!! Fizz isn’t a cruel overly raunchy person who prizes lust and money and elitism above all else. Especially the elitism part, Asmodeus is nice (to fizz) but he’s an elitist like mammon is. Fizz? It’s not him. But putting the blame of the lustful persona on mammon exclusively is laughable?? Have a backbone, writers, character consistency is more important than keeping the demon ship vanilla, marketable, wholesome. It sacrifices its ability to explore problems in a relationship by prioritisation a romance for audiences to say “awww” at. So instead of working through issues that are making a relationship bad, they instead gloss over them which in turn, ironically makes them bad. And god Fizz’s communication with Asmodeus is so poor and so steeped in lies and codependency that the more it goes unaddressed the more uncomfortable the “cute” moments feel.

No you’re right. Fizz as a baby, teen, and adult, on stage, off stage, they feel deeply different to each other and I struggle to follow. Like if the three of them were somehow in a room, I don’t know how the conversation would go.

[fairytail-whathesays]

Could I get some Lucy headcanons? I like her a lot but God do I hate the way she's treated in canon

For Lucy, having her mother die early, being raised by an abusive father, and essentially waking up one day to find that that same father died has essentially rendered her hyper-sensitive to family issues. If she catches a parent being a shit to their kid, she will become a public menace and not even Erza can stop her.

Wizarding was not something she just picked up on a whim; she had to consciously choose to give up a lot of luxuries and strike out on her own at the tender age of 17. She's done remarkably well for herself given no one knew she came from money until she was kidnapped, but every once in a while she experiences some of that crushing weight of capitalism.

Speaking of Erza, she was generously given the prize money from the Miss Fairy Tail contest, since Erza makes her fair share from high-paying missions either way.

This chick is crazy strong and just because she's timid in dangerous situations and isn't fight-happy doesn't mean everyone in the guild doesn't know to stay on her good side. She was casually summoning Aquarius, probably the most powerful celestial spirit short of the King himself, at like 5 years old. Without even any indication it was hard! When she was trying to compel Loke to stay alive, she reflexively summoned her whole host of spirits--nine in total, five of them Golden Zodiac spirits--when it's supposed to use massive amounts of power to summon just two. Everybody knows not to truly piss Lucy off.

Lucy is actually extremely good at codebreaking and script magic. It's shown early on from the part where she figures out the Daybreak translation in less than a day, and she figures out the route to Mavis' grave with just a few context clues, too. Jutsu Shiki users beware.

The reason she chose a whip as her melee weapon is actually because besides dance classes, she also took gymnastics in her youth, and was able to make use of some ribbon training that came along with it and incorporate it into her fighting style. She's also taken some Chinese ribbon dancing classes (with Erza along for the ride) as a hobby. Dancing was one of the things they bonded over.

Lucy has kindness for everyone, even if they're not all that pleasant at a glance. This has gotten her into trouble a few times, but more often than not this instinct actually works well in her favor.