#i had to insist to get at least a meeting to get an actual explanation as to why i wasn't payed on time and the real payment rules they use

[ssmokyquartz]

an assistant of someone i needed to talk to today just told me i should contact her boss directly because she's taking care of things we don't even know, important things. excuse me but paying the people who work for you isn't important also?

[sweetiebarnes]

Dirty Little Secret

Pairing: DBF!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: The first time Bucky met you, he knew he needed to stay far away from you. But then your dad invited him to your family's beach house. The two of you under the same roof? What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 900+

Warnings: degradation, DBF!Bucky (he's a warning), mutual pining, fingering, praise kink, promise of p in v, female orgasm, pet names (sugar and doll)

A/N: This was not proof read or beta read. Basically this all just randomly came to me. So, if it's not good. I apologize. Please do not report my work. Just pay attention to the warnings I give.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. No, Bucky had a plan. He just needed to stay far away from you, and everything would be okay. 

Bucky knew this was wrong. Well, at least he knew your dad would think it was. He first met your dad through Sam. Both of them worked at the VA hospital, and Sam insisted that he needed to meet him. Of course, the two of them hit it off. Bucky felt thrilled he finally had another friend. But then you came along. 

It was at your dad’s birthday party when Bucky first met you. The sound of your laugh broke him from the conversation he was having. He swore at that moment he’d never heard a more beautiful sound. You were in your late twenties, it didn’t even occur to him that you could possibly be his newfound best friend’s daughter. But as luck would have it, you were. 

That night he swore to himself that he’d stay away from you. He would do the right thing and not think about you. But it felt like your laugh continued to play over and over in his mind. The way your eyes lit up when he’d make a joke. The scent of your floral perfume. Everything about you seemed to drive him crazy. 

When your dad asked Bucky to tag along with him to your family’s beach house, he didn’t think of the possibility you would be there. But as the two of them pulled up to the house there you were. Bucky’s eyes were immediately drawn to you. There you laid in your bathing suit, the thin material leaving no room for imagination. It took everything in him not to let out a groan. 

It wasn’t until his car door shut that you looked up at the two of them. He watches as your face lights up and you wave to your dad. 

God, does she always look this beautiful? 

Bucky shook his head, trying his best to get those thoughts out of his mind. He could do this. Leaving now would only cause your dad to become suspicious, and that was the last thing Bucky wanted or needed.

Get it together, Barnes. You can do this. 

It had only been one day, and he was losing his mind. It felt like you were constantly trying to get his attention and tease him. First, it was you walking out of the bathroom in just your towel. “Oops, sorry, I forgot my change of clothes in my room.” Your voice sounded innocent, but the look in your eyes told a different story. 

Now, here you were sitting across from him at the dining room table. There was no way in hell you were being innocent with the way you were eating your popsicle. No, Bucky could see the way you kept your eyes locked on him as you swirled your tongue around the icy tip. His cock stirred in his pants, and he was suddenly grateful for the fact that your dad was taking a nap. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky attempts to look away. He needed to focus on something else, anything else. But then he felt your foot slowly slide up his leg. His eyes widen… Looking over at you to see if this was actually happening. 

“Are you going to make me beg, James?” Your voice sounded like honey, the way your words effortlessly turned him into a puddle. “I see the way you look at me.” 

No, this had to be a dream. That would be the only explanation for what was happening before him. Bucky shifts a little in his seat, his eyes now boring into yours. “Doll, this is a dangerous game you’re trying to play. Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to play with fire?” 

A small smirk appears on your face, and Bucky’s eyes can’t help but dart down to your lips. “He did, but that’s the thing… I love the risk of it all. Even if it means I might get burned.” 

Bucky’s hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. “Easy there, sugar. You don’t want your dear dad to find out how big of a slut you are for his best friend’s cock, do you?” He taunts as his metal thumb rubs a figure eight against your clit. 

Once you made yourself clear, Bucky couldn’t resist you any longer. It was as if something inside of him snapped. He knew you needed this just as badly as he did. It had been over 70 years since he had felt this much arousal, this much need. He knew you were going to be his favorite pastime, his favorite dirty little secret. 

He looks down at you with a devious smirk, he loved seeing you fall apart like this, and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. The look on your face was so blissed out. “Come on, give me one more. One more and then I’ll fuck you until you forget your name.” 

You’d awoken something inside of him. He needed you and clearly needed him. Slowly, he removed his hand. Immediately, you bit down on your lip, trying your best to stifle the sound that was threatening to spill out. “Please,” you whimper out. Not knowing what it was you were begging for. Your second orgasm hits you with full force, Bucky’s fingers continuing their brutal assault as he works you through it. 

“Good girl, now it’s time to give you what you truly want.” 

[chaostroberry1]

Hi, it's me again. How are you? I hope your day is great 😊 I am back to ask another request 🤭😅 Sorry if I ask too much this week 🙇‍♀️

Anyway, this time is about ror Poseidon (wanted to do Beel, but I am scared you already had enough with many Beel story 🤣🤣).

It was isekai-ed reader (kinda or sort off) like the reader is a witch and had read RoR, her favorite is Beelzebub. She hope she can went to RoR universe at least wanted to hug her bias once. But what she get is... she got asthraled (forgot the word. It was like your soul or ghost someshort of spiritual come to another place but you are kinda invisible and cannot be harmed since you are ghost and all.) instead you fall down to Poseidon lap.

Ror Poseidon of course angered and threw trident at you, only for it to just flew through you and you are unharmed. Unfortunately for both of you, you seems stuck with him because you try to get away or him get away it always end with you being dragged by force to him. He is very annoyed by not only because you are human but also because you insistent on wanting to meet Beelzebub. You both banter daily and all.

He grow fond of you, and deep down scared if you will suddenly move back or meet Beelzebub as he know your love for the flies (lowkey he though you are in love with the devil and not love him as a fans). And the day came where Poseidon cross with Beelzebub and he find himself so jealous at how you fawning over Beelzebub resulted in his very first argument with you and you huff and the reader having enough just kiss him... only to find herself go through him. Come the fluffy live between you two. The reader love teasing Poseidon who act as if he is not affected on outside but when it was only two of them, he is a big cuddler and softy.

Can you please made headcannon and story about it? It was up to you if it going to be after or before Ragnarok. Thank you so much. Have nice days and wonderful days 😘❤❤❤

Hi hun💕 thank you for this, it's so cute 😭 seeing a jelly Poseidon is actually funny to think abt ngl

Poseidon mini story+mini headcanons

Poseidon × isekai-ed!witch!reader

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, reading the newest chapters of record of Ragnarok, your all time favourite manga. Or maybe just something you read to pass the time, whatever. You fawned and giggled over your favourite character, specifically, Beelzebub. Poor baby, you wanted to give him a hug and kiss his face all over, since he didn't deserve any of this.

You so wanted to go there, but that was impossible. Your worlds were completely different, and he was fictional. He wasn't real. Or so you thought.

When you went to bed that night, your final thoughts being your bias, you suddenly open your eyes again, this time, the surroundings were different. It was all so colorful, like you were being sucked into a portal that led to someplace else.

"is this a dream?" You mumbled, before suddenly, you dropped, letting out a little squeak, looking up. Then...you saw the face of an angered god, who was just as surprised as you. But more pissed tho.

You landed on the lap of the tyrant of the sea, Poseidon. Great, just your luck. What the hell and how the hell did you end up on his lap? You couldn't even process when he took his trident.

You floated away, letting out little panicked sounds, as he got up, throwing it at you, only for it to pas through you, as you looked at him wide eyed. "Mortal, who do you think you are to commit such an act towards a god?"

When he heard your explanation, he let out a "tch" deciding to stop, before ordering you to leave, which you gladly did so. Well, that didn't go so well for you. With a magnetic force, your body was brought back to Poseidon, who looked at you like you just called him a bitch and slapped him in the face.

"I told you to leave."

"if you can see, I am struggling to!"

You recall reading a book about things like these, and you then start to connect the dots, coming to a conclusion that your soul had been transported to a completely different world, while your physical body was back in the other.

You and Poseidon tried to part ways, but no matter what you did, you kept being forced back to him. As mucha s he wanted to believe that you were faking it, you really looked like your were upset and struggling badly. So now he was just stuck with you.

At first, he found you annoying, the way you'd just float around while he walked, his movements always being watched by the little ghost on his ass, man this was a pain. You were a pathetic human, and your whines to meet Beelzebub were so irritating. But all that was passed him. It slowly came to him that he grew fond of you, he found himself entertained by watching you float around stupidly, and just be on his back all day, begging him to go near an ice cream truck so you could eat something tasty.

But when those thoughts came over him, another thought presented itself. What if you broke free from him, and set out to find Beelzebub? That, that really wasn't a nice thought. But the day came where by absolute luck, he walks passed Beelzebub, and he immediately looked behind him to find you squealing and fawning over the lord of the flies.

Poseidon had many fan girls, so why couldn't you have just been one of them? Before you could get near Beelzebub, Poseidon immediately distanced himself from the god, forcing you with him, making you pout and whine.

That was his last straw.

You were his now. So why do you look at other guys like that? It's obvious that you were sent to him for a reason. That resulted in an argument between the both of you. Before you finally had enough and decided to kiss him. You didn't know why, but your body acted on its own, what's worse is that you passed through him, as he stared at you with wide eyes, slowly calming himself. Before telling you to touch him.

You were confused, and still embarrassed, before you touched him, his body slowly turning spirit like, just like you. He had read about it before, and knew exactly what he was dealing with. And now that he knew the side effects, and everything else, he went over and kissed you, kissing you with so much passion. Knowing that nobody could see both of you. And from there, you both started a relationship.

The effects wore off, and he became a touchable and physical being once more. Looking at you, and then softly speaking. "You're mine now. Understand? That's an order."

Your heart beemed, you knew you loved beelzebub..but this exchange with Poseidon had completely altered your way of thinking.

He's not so bad after all...

________ random mini headcanons._____

- bro still does his best to make sure Beelzebub ain't anywhere close to you. Like literally he hates it when he even thinks about Beelzebub and you having an interaction. Nobody stealing his bae.

- he's cold and all, but when y'all are together, he's so needy.

- even if ur a ghost, you will either be floating round him, or be on his lap.

- sometimes, his brother's find him talking to himself, unaware that you were chatting with him. They fr thought he had an imaginary best friend.

- jealousy issues frfr

- when you told him about how you thought there could be a chance where you'll eventually be transported back to your world— mans was pissed. He would do so much to avoid that from happening, ordering servants to find anything about things like these, just to avoid it from happening.

- yes I mean everyone.

- he couldn't afford to lose you. Not when you are one of the very, VERY few people he had took a liking to. So anyone that posed as a threat shall be demolished.

- he hates how your eyes dart immediately to anyone who looked even the slightest bit of nice. Like he's literally over here wtf.

- I jus know that whenever you're hungry, he'd order his servant or smth to get him the most randomest shit like your favourite food, ice cream, or whatever you liked.

- people who serve it to him are dumbfounded when they see that Poseidon, THE Poseidon, is requesting...a dessert???

- only for him to stare at it with the most uninterested resting bitch face known to man. Until the food suddenly dissappears out of the blue without the god moving an inch. But they can't question it tho.

- and yo ass is just munching on the food, happily floating around and thanking him.

- his servants or anyone for that matter would be even more surprised when he started ordering them to buy stuff like clothes, jewelry, and all....

- was their god keeping a secret mistress??? But then again...they cannot ask. Or their heads would be served on a platter.

- he's a good boyfriend and hubby, y'all's marriage would come in so randomly after he just states in in a meeting with the other gods. Explaining everything and then dropping a "we're getting married in a few days"

- dang. Oh well, didn't matter. He was just happy that he was gonna seal the deal with you. All his, and he'd make sure you'd become immortal too, just like him.

____

@17kurodaayumu this was fun!

[iblameashley]

Dating Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Civilian | Male | Gay

Content: Headcanons, Gay stuff, First dates, Budding relationship, Pre-relationship, Alcohol use, Mixed emotions, Military stuff, Guns, etc.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | Male

!!!SFW!!!

Note: This is kind of an in between of short-story and bullet point dating headcanons. I've wanted to write this for a while, but lacked motivation to go full story mode... sorry! Also, I do not know UK Gun Laws or how Gun Ranges work there, so just... go with the flow, OK?

It happened weeks ago; Simon stared down at his phone with a sense of dread, though you'd never have known just looking at him. He didn't even know why he had agreed to download this fucking app to begin with, though as usual it was at Soap and Gaz's insistence... and pestering. All he had wanted was some quiet on his day off, not to be harassed by yet another chatty man looking to suck his dick in an alley.

Sighing, he scrolled to the message that had just come in – a handsome young lad with a wide smile and kind eyes. It had started innocently enough, the usual pleasantries first, briefs answers after, and the long wait to see how long it would take to either receive a dick-pic or have a request for one.

Neither happened. In fact, the lad had actually carried on a decent conversation over the course the last few weeks, inquiring about hobbies and interests, career and what he was looking for. But then the lad had asked that they meet up on the upcoming weekend.

It's ironic that Ghost decided to ghost the poor lad. He didn't block him – frankly, he didn't know how – he simply didn't respond and closed the app. It was for the best, at least that's what he told himself, though he had blatantly lied to Gaz and Soap when asked how it was going, claiming all he could find was horny men looking for a quick hookup. Not that Gaz or Soap understood why that was a problem; they assumed Ghost getting laid couldn't make him worse.

But then they found out he lied, a casual glance at his phone when a message came in, and then another, asking about the date and apologizing if he had offended Simon.

Its rare that anyone could corner Ghost, but that's just what Soap and Gaz did, hounding their commanding officer until he ran out of excuses.

“Ye owe the lad an explanation.” Soap chided him, a finger pointed in his face.

“Agreed, you can't leave the lad hanging!” Gaz chimed in with a disgruntled look on his face.

So Simon agreed to apologize and reply to the poor lad, and even agreed to a date. He was ready for this, he knew he was charming and could flirt with the best of em', he just had no need to before. He simply wasn't interesting in dating.

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Cuppa

Simon: He felt nervous for this date, in many ways it felt like a blind date since he had only ever seen your face in a few pictures. He dressed nicely (Button-down, fitted jeans, boots and some cologne was dabbed behind his ears where the mask hooked), He was confident, pleasant, charming and funny throughout the date. But he saw the way you looked at him with every passing question and answer and was beginning to think this was a mistake. You weren't compatible... but why did that bother him?

You: You arrived early and found a nice little table at the cafe to wait for Simon. To say you were surprised by the giant of a man who appeared would be an understatement. As you both settled in and ordered drinks, you attempted to dive right into it. Your talk walk halting and awkward as Simon dodged most questions about himself with grunts, shrugs or one-word answers. His insistence on using terrible puns and dad-jokes made it more difficult to get to know him. It was frustrating, to say the least, but you persisted. He did at least ask some questions about you, which eased things, but you knew that if this was all he was willing to give, it would be difficult to go on more dates, let alone start a relationship.

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Movie and Dinner

Simon: Of course Simon would agree to a movie date followed by dinner. It meant that he got to sit in silence and darkness for about two hours, and then could have a bite to eat after where you would likely do a majority of the talking. He had already tried his best on the first date, it was up to you to pick up the slack this time. The movie went fine for the most part, except when you grabbed his arm during a jump-scare that made him roll his eyes.

Over dinner, he picked away at the curry on his plate while you discussed the movie. He was surprised by your review of the movie and its themes and found himself agreeing with you on many points. Maybe you weren't such a terrible date after all. He decided to pay for dinner, despite your protests.

You: It was stupid of you to choose a thriller for a movie date, but you really wanted to see the movie and no one else would go with you. Since Simon agreed, you made it a date and added dinner after. Thank the good Lord it was dark in the theatre; you turned bright red at the jump scare and felt bad for grabbing Simon's arm. You felt the way he tensed, but were too embarrassed to apologize to him.

Dinner went much better and Simon actually became more engaging as you discussed the movie and its plot. He seemed to enjoy your nerding out and even cracked a small smile.

As dinner came to an end, you thanked him for the (genuinely) enjoyable night and get ready to pay, since the date was your suggestion. Simon wouldn't allow it and ended up paying regardless. Maybe this lumbering, awkward man wasn't so bad after all.

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Pub Trivia

Simon: Simon's intelligence isn't limited to Military knowledge, so he decided to take you to a pub trivia night, though he couldn't understand why he had this continued desire to impress you. You. Just some civilian who had taken an interest in him.

In between the rounds and pints, he started to talk to you about his mates Gaz and Soap who gave him the idea for this date. You'd like them, he was sure, but it was too early for you to be meeting his friends, he was sure to remind you.

You: You couldn't deny the Simon was an encyclopedia of general knowledge, his brain was like a sponge, it seemed. He had filled in the sheets of answers rather quickly each round, but you got the chance to flex your brain full of useless pop culture knowledge in the last few rounds.

What really entertained you though, was that the drunker this man got, the more he was willing to open up to you... you should have got him pissed sooner. You laughed when he reminded you it was too early to meet his friends, despite never asking to. This man was ridiculous and in its own way, it was endearing.

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Aquarium

Simon: He had agreed to a date with you a few weeks prior but had to cancel due to deployment. He promised he'd take you out when he got back, but by the time the mission was over and he returned to base he didn't want to do the obstacle course. You surprised him when you offered a less energy-intensive option, and here he was at the aquarium now.

As you two strolled leisurely through the dark hallways of glass staring at a multitude of sea creates, Simon found himself actually relaxing; something he was unaccustomed to after a long mission. You stood unreasonably close, but he allowed it, figuring you were uncomfortable with all the other people wandering close by.

A brief stop at the aquarium cafeteria (for an unimpressive meal that would have made the mess hall staff on base look like Michelin Star chefs), filled the both of you up enough to know you'd make it to dinner and something more satisfying.

You managed to convince Simon to take a walk through the gift shop, and ended up buying him a pack of face masks with a shark-teeth pattern on them. He was surprised and delighted, though he wouldn't admit that to you.

You: Your heart sank when Simon tried to cancel the date - but you also understood he just came back from deployment. Maybe you were getting to know him better between the dates and texting, but you could feel his exhaustion, so you offered an alternative; a stroll through the aquarium.

It was rather cold in the building and you found yourself drifting towards Simon... that's how it started anyway. He smelled good too, and you felt comfortable with him. You desperately wanted to hold his hand, but figured that was a boundary too far for right now.

You treated him to food in the cafeteria, swallowing it hard and trying to hide your dissatisfaction with the offerings while he ate everything on his plate with his usual impassive face.

There was no plan to buy anything from the gift shop, you just liked wandering them to see what was there... but the sight of the face masks was too good to pass up. Simon always showed up to a date in a mask, and only took it off when eating, drinking or for a quick smoke. So it seemed fitting and perfect get these shark-print ones for him. You thought you could see a smile under his current mask as you handed them to him.

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Shooting Range

Simon: Simon was absolutely intent on showing off his sharpshooting skills to you. It was the closest thing to 'giddy' that he allowed himself to feel as he drove you to the range. Simon is an expert in his field, matched only by sparingly few men - and several good women too.

But there was also a feeling of caution and anxiety as you both signed in and got your gear ready. Simon watched like a hawk as you eyed the guns over before making a few selections. A Glock 17, Mossberg 500 and M4 Carbine... Interesting selections.

This was as handsy as Simon had ever been with someone, ensuring that your safety gear was secure and that you followed instructions to the letter. He was already hesitant about this activity to begin with, but you seemed genuinely interested.

Simon ensured that you paid close attention, and that he assisted you with aiming as well as stood close by as you fired. What he wasn't expecting was your proficiency with the Mossberg. You each took turns firing at targets, and to no surprise to either of you, Simon was the winner... though there were no winners, it was all in good fun. But if there were, Simon would have won.

You: You chose the Glock because it had always fascinated you, the Mossberg because you grew up in the country and were familiar with similar shotguns and the Carbine because it seemed the most military of the selection.

You couldn't stop the thrill that ran through you as Simon checked all your gear and guns, ensuring everything was secure and safeties were on before going straight into his lecture about gun safety. You listened to him speak with confidence and authority, happy to see him in his element. You wanted to make sure you gave him and the guns the respect they deserved and did everything he said without question - or at least with very little question.

Your heart raced as Simon kept close. You knew very little about guns overall, but the way he pressed himself against you to help you aim, the calm voice he spoke in as he guided you, the feeling of his hand on your back as he stepped away to let you take the shot. You were melting with happiness.

The biggest thrill was when you fired the Mossberg several times. The look on Simon's face was priceless as you expertly handled the shotgun and even gave him a run for his money with your accuracy, but that was a secret to share another time.

You gracefully conceded your defeat to the expert in front of you, but couldn't help but notice what might have been pride in his look as he reviewed your targets one last time.

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Cooking Class(es)

Simon: It's not that Simon is bad at cooking - he's really not - but he didn't have the opportunity to flex his skill often, and he had a select few dishes that he excelled at. So when you suggested this date, he was a bit apprehensive.

But Simon was a man used to following orders - usually - and listened intently to everything that was explained to him, so he settled in at the table next to you and took charge.

He needed a bowl? You had it for him already. Needed something washed? It was already done and drying. Missing ingredient? Nope, on your left. Simon appreciated your own attentiveness to the task, and how you made it go so much more smoothly.

And then the dessert section came up, and Simon floundered. Hard. Main courses aren't a challenge for him, but Simon doesn't bake. Not for a lack of interest, but a lack of time usually.

You picked up the slack though, and he reluctantly ceded control to you, letting you guide him in making the Zeppole.

Simon's demeanour softened as the class came to an end and you both sat there sampling the homemade ravioli, a glass of wine and eventually the Zeppole.

Before you parted ways, you gave Simon a tight hug, demanding he return it otherwise you weren't letting go. Simon decided to simply return the hug instead of forcing you off him.... not because he actually liked the hug from you.

You: Simon seemed to be taking this class very seriously from the moment he arrived. He stood in a typical rigid manner while listening and nodding along as instructions were given. The only thing missing was a few 'Yes sir!' replies.

The man made a complete mess though, and you found yourself quickly cleaning up after him in an attempt to keep up with his pace. But even still, you had fun. You got him the things you both needed for the meal, made sure the table was tidy and even engaged in some small talk.

It took everything in you to not laugh out loud as you say the panic in Simon's eyes as he read the instructions for the dessert. It was like he was reading a completely different language and, after a few failed starts, you took over and guided him.

As the class came to an end, and you could both indulge in the meal you created together. You clinked your wine glass against his and took a bite of the ravioli that was mostly his handiwork. It was good! Dessert wasn't too bad either and Simon gave a contented smile as he ate the last of the Zeppole.

You both relaxed on a nearby bench after the class for a few minutes, letting the meal settle in your stomachs before Simon explained he needed to get back to base. You stood up to say your goodbyes, but noticed how he lingered. How he hovered over you; closer than you were accustomed to from him. Taking the chance, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his waist and lowered your head into the crook of his neck. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, and you begin to worry you misread the situation; joking that you weren't going to let go until he reciprocated, and gently his hands found their way to your backside and pulled you into the best hug you've ever had. Simon held on longer than you did, though you never truly let go until his hands fell to his sides.

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[joocomics]

ಬ just like a movie scene

pairing: non idol!hyeongjun x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: friends to lovers trope, soft dom!reader, dirty talk, handjob, oral sex (f!rec)

you thought tripping over a bowl of popcorn and falling over your best friend’s lap who happens to be the guy you’ve been crushing on for an entire summer happens only in the movies; most specifically the cheesy ones that everyone rolls their eyes at. you never thought something pathetically like that actually happens in real life, but here you are - cleaning hyeongjun’s clothes from popcorn and awkwardly apologising for not watching where you’re going.

“no, it’s okay, really!” his lips slide up for a smile, but not enough it seems. his voice also sounds not quite like it did an hour ago. “we should’ve taken the couch, leaving so much snacks on the floor is not a good idea, it was bound to happen to one of us.”

“at least the drinks are safe, thank god!” you sigh while continuing to help him out with removing the popcorn that’s now stuck in the creases of his hoodie. “wait, there’s more here…”

hyeongjun mumbles something, but you’re so concentrated in what you’re doing, on your hands, working in sync with his and occasionally bumping into each other, that you don’t hear it. you also don’t notice how he’s about to stand up on his feet so things become even more awkward when your one hand touches something that seems to be sticking out through his pants; something that feels stiff and rough against your palm.

your eyes meet in the dim cosy lights of your room with a slight hint of shock. hyeongjun stands still, unsure of what to do, where to go, while the movie on the tv keeps playing behind him. you’re still on your knees just as confused.

you can’t see it, because of the black colour of the fabric, the low lightning, and his hands that roam in front of his crotch area, trying to pull down the hoodie as much as possible like a protective shield, but he’s only convincing you even more that it’s there.

“do you have a boner, hyeongjun?” you look up at him.

hyeongjun’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t have the time to calm down and prepare a proper explanation. on top of that, the way you smile warmly at him and move closer while still being on your knees distracts him from practically everything he wants to try to do.

“i’m so sorry…” his eyes squeeze shut so they cannot see your reaction after he confirms that what you felt on your hand is real. “fuck—“

“but we still have yet to see the sex scene!” you giggle in attempt to make a joke out of the situation, but hyeongjun whines instead of joining the laugh.

“god, this is so embarrassing, y/n!” he turns around with a sigh before he stutters with his next words. “i’ll… i’ll b-be right back.”

“wait!” you exclaim before he has the chance to walk out the door. your arm extends in the air although he’s out of reach. “come here for a moment.”

he hesitates, but after some consideration he walks closer. he lets you take his hand and convince him to sit down in front of you.

“we’re friends, right?” you ask, but quickly frown when you see him scrunch his nose and shake his head at how awkward all of this is for him. “stuff like that happen, it’s normal, okay? there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, it’s just me here.”

and that’s exactly what makes it so bad, hyeongjun thinks to himself, wishing the ground beneath him could open and swallow him whole.

it’s you that caused his boner, and it’s you that caught him having it. it shouldn’t have happened, but he can’t control his body around you to save his life.

he should’ve insisted to watch the movie on the couch instead, that way you wouldn’t have tripped over the bowl and now you won’t be having this conversation that would probably ruin any chance he had with you. if he had any chances in the first place.

“stop frowning!” you push his knee while trying to look him in the eye. “i’ve heard the sex scene in this movie is pretty spicy so i bet i’m gonna get wet for sure.”

hyeongjun finally looks up from the ground. his eyes are gazing at you almost in disbelief at how normally you blurt that out.

“we’ll be even.” you tilt your head playfully and smile as he continues to only stare at you as if he’s looking for something hidden in your eyes that would help him to navigate the situation better.

“y/n…” hyeongjun finally speaks up in a low cautious voice.

you make a small soft hm? already curious of what he’s about to say. he can tell you anything.

“it’s not because of the movie.”

“oh… it’s my fault,” you comment, but your tone is cheeky.

“it’s not your fault, i wouldn’t word it like that. it’s just that it happens sometimes when i’m around you.”

once hyeongjun sees your friendly smile grow bigger on your face his body relaxes a bit. or, is that smile purely friendly? could it mean something else now after his confession?

“let me help you out then.” your response comes quicker for your own surprise, but his too. you look into his gaze to try and guess if he’s going to agree.

your hand crawls on top of his knee again, but you allow it to go further than that - in the direction of his boner which you felt briefly minutes ago. now, you’ve unlocked a desire to feel it better. to palm it and feel how much harder it can get.

hyeongjun’s hands move awkwardly on both sides of his body as his eyes follow the movements of your fingers. his breath stops once they position themselves over his semi hard on. during your conversation his cock started to go soft, but it’s about to quickly harden again under your delicate rubs and the fact you’re leaning into his face.

you inhale each other’s familiar scents, but it feels different now with you touching him in such intimate way, and brushing your nose against his. hyeongjun’s cheeks earn a reddish hue as his lips get in contact with yours.

it feels even better than it does in his fantasies.

his lips are soft and so nice to touch that you sigh in delight against them after you pull back. you already learn to love to kiss him, and you hope he feels the same type of butterflies that swirl around in your stomach right now.

once his cock is free from his pants, you notice that it’s harder than you expected, and his arousal is already trickling down on the side.

“do you want me to spit in my hand so it feels even better?” you ask just in case and hyeongjun nods.

after you wrap your hand fully around it and begin to stroke it in gentle movements, simultaneously smearing the pre cum that’s mixed with your saliva, hyeongjun’s hand goes into your hair. he lets it rest on the side of your face with the tip of his fingers lost in the soft strands.

you’re focused on what you're doing, but you can tell that perhaps he wants to kiss you.

he moans quietly, but in a clear erotic sound.

“is this good?” you glance up at him. “do you like it?”

“fuck.. yeah—“ he nods again, this time more eagerly. he’s starting to get overwhelmed with the rapidly growing rush. he wants to tell you this is the best he’s ever felt in his life, but the words in his head are disappearing one by one. “i like it s-so much…”

“i’ll keep going then,” you whisper through a soft, but sinful smile, and he bites his lower lip with his brows furrowed as if he’s unsure he can even handle feeling this good.

as you resume to jerking him off in a more speedy pace, the lewd noises start to settle in the air. the noise of the playing movie continues blasting throughout the room, but this makes you both forget all about it. all you can comprehend are the sound of your wet fist around his length and the moans that slip more freely through hyeongjun’s lips.

“fuck—“ he lets go of your hair and leans backwards with hands on the floor. his thighs shake a few times; his muscles go tense, but at the same time they also feel like they’re about to melt down. “fuck, i’m s’close, i—“

you glance at the way his mouth hangs open as he looks up at the ceiling despite his eyes being squeezed shut. his expression is vulnerable and weak. you’ve never seen such a strong reaction from him before; the fact it’s all from pleasure, the pleasure that you’re causing him, floods your body and mind with satisfaction and pride.

“don’t hold back, okay?” you run your hand up his stomach beneath his hoodie, and you feel it clenching as he’s seconds away from cumming. “let me make you feel good, baby.”

this pushes hyeongjun completely over the edge, and the sensation overflows his veins. your seductive words keep echoing into his head until his cum shoots all over his clothes and his mind gets wrapped in a fog that feels hot and too thick to get through so easily.

with amazed eyes staring down at his lap you keep gliding your fist up and down super slowly. the white essense is dripping through your fingers, but you enjoy smearing it along his sensitive cock that occasionally twitches between them.

it may be an embarrassing thought, but you can do this for hours, you realise - playing with his dick in different speeds and ways. however, once you peer into his glossy eyes again, hyeongjun leans forward to hover over your figure. his body weight makes you lay down on the ground, and in a matter of seconds your shorts get dragged down along with your underwear.

his firm hands go on your hips as he settles between your open thighs, causing his hot breath to warm up your bare skin. you sigh weakly the moment his tongue goes over your folds that are already slick. to feel his tender touch even better, you spread your legs some more and push over the bowl with popcorn by accident. the second they spill everywhere you moan loud enough to block the sounds of the movie which popular sex scene is going to unfold on the screen in just one minute.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Surprise Visit Pt 2 (Thor X Son!Reader)

Characters: Thor Odinson X Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: None

Pt 1

Request: Hi, I'm just finish Poco's udon world, and right of the batch I thought what if Poco is Thor's son, Poco has some of his feature too and I remember your fic Surprise Visit. Can you please do a Part 2 of it?🥺 reader is like Thor but he quite shy and always bring with books that his mother read before bed they bonding by activities together Thor bring him to Asgard to meet his grandparents Loki read them books, tell them stories, show and teach them magic (Harry Potter) with Freyaa and all fluff❤

The first few days after finally meeting your dad had been awkward to say the least. You were spending almost every waking moment either with him, or your uncle. You had expected that Loki would be a lot more awkward with you- or straight up wouldn’t like you from the get go, but it ended up being kind of the opposite. Thor had been a bit too eager from the get go to play the fatherly role, and you found it unnerving, and when Thor realised that (with help from Clint and Steve pointing it out for him) he backed up and started to just try and get to know you, your interests, your dislikes, and take things a little slower. Loki, on the other hand, was nowhere near as pushy, gave you space, and didn’t force conversation on to you. Eventually though, you ended up finding something to bond with Loki over; Books. 

You had been interested in the books he read, even if you couldn’t read the language, and worked up the courage to ask him about it, and after an explanation, he asked what kind of books you liked, and it was a start of an actual long and meaningful conversation. Loki took that, and hinted that Thor should look into those books. The next day, Thor showed up to your room with a pile of books in his arms and a grin on his face. 

Things since then had got a lot better between you and your dad. Instead of forcing it, or acting the part for the sake of it, Thor had naturally fallen into the father role that made it a comfortable change for you. Thor had little interest in books, but you had the ritual with him now of him buying a book for you, you read it, and after every chapter, you give him a rundown of what happened in detail, and you’d discuss it. You’d opened up a bit with him over the weeks, about what your life was like growing up with mum, holidays, key memories for you, and the rituals you two had- including reading books before bed together, which was where your love for books came from. Thor soon got you some of the books you mentioned, so you could do it with him. You got into a nice rhythm of living with and being around your dad and uncle, to the point where you were expecting it when an advancement was suggested. 

“How do you feel about going to Asgard with Loki and I, tomorrow?” Thor asked, as you were tidying up after another late night discussion about a book you had been reading- this one actually a recommendation from your Uncle Loki. You stopped what you were doing, and looked over at Thor, who waited patiently. 

“Uh… sure. Okay.” You agreed hesitantly, and immediately his face lit up. You had long guessed this conversation would happen, so you had time to prepare for it, though you knew that was actually impossible. What could prepare you for going to the land of gods- where you know you didn’t belong, even if Thor was your father? “Do… Do they know about me?” You asked cautiously. 

“Of course!” He immediately answered. “As soon as I returned to Agard after we met, I told mother and father about you, and my friends! I wanted to tell the entire kingdom, but mother- your grandmother, insisted we wait till you met them all first before telling the rest of Asgard. Freya, your grandmother, is the most eager to meet you.” He gushed to you. You’d heard a lot about your grandparents through both Thor and Loki. Admittedly, Thor was the only one who talked about Odin, and while Loki didn’t talk much about them, when he did, it was always about Freya, about how she was also a bit of a bookworm, and how she taught him magic.

You got up early the next morning, mostly due to struggling to sleep from the anticipation, and you didn’t have to wait for either your dad or uncle to be ready either, though you couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement or nerves, or maybe they were both feeling those things- your dad the excitement, and Loki the nerves. It didn’t help that your dad was a raving optimist, and your uncle was a pessimist, so you couldn’t tell who was feeling the right way, so you just adopted a bit of each of their emotions. Cautiously excited.

You honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when you actually got there, or even the process of getting there in the first place, but as soon as you left the Bifrost, you were in awe. Sure, they had told you all about Asguard- the rainbow path that led to it, the great kingdom, the beauty of it all, but none of that was in comparison to what you were actually seeing. You remained in stunned silence the entire walk up the bridge, actually entering into Asguard, past the several hundred people who came to welcome them back and ask about you, up until your father actually called for you, after seeing you distracted by something else further away. You turned, seeing several people stood with your father and uncle, looking at you smiling. “Y/N, these are my friends, Fandrall, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif.” Your father introduced you.

“So this is the little prince?” Sif questioned with a smile. 

“Little? Thor, you said he was a boy! Give it a few years and he’ll be ready to be king!” Volstagg laughed, though the mention of such a role made you look at Loki quickly, and then your dad. 

“He is a boy! The very idea of being king is still a long way away- you make it sound like he’ll outlive me.” Thor defended. 

“Speaking of Kings.” Loki spoke up, placing  hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“Right! Haven’t had the chance to introduce him to the rest of his family. We’ll pick this up later, promise.” Thor told them motioning you over, and guiding you deeper into the kingdom, down several expansive corridors, before you turned a corner, and spotted a group of women talking in the hallway ahead, and your father and uncle stopped. “Loki, stay here with Y/N.” Thor requested, before going towards the group, and you looked up at Loki confused, who patted you on the shoulder. You watched as your father approached the group, made some small talk, before all the women except one left down another hallway, and Thor stepped to the side, motioning the woman towards you and Loki, and you realised who she must be. Freya. Your grandmother. 

As soon as she saw you properly, she smiled warmly, hands clasped and pressed against her chest with excitement, and any fear you had- fear of not being liked, or not meeting their standards, of being a disappointment, being looked down on for being half human- it all faded. You could feel the love and acceptance radiating off the woman as she reached out her hands, and took your own. “Y/N, words cannot describe the absolute joy I feel to finally be in your presence finally after all of Thor’s descriptions.” Freya told you, gently squeezing your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile too. 

“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you too from dad and uncle Loki.” You told her, and her smile grew, before she pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you. 

“Thor- Loki, go tell your father that you’re here with Y/N- I’ll give Y/N a tour of the palace- we’ll be in the library when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.” Freya decided, already walking away with you, and you didn’t fight it, leaving with her. 

Thor and Loki did as ordered, finding their father, letting them know they’d also brought you, and after a bit of back and forth questioning where exactly you were, and Loki explaining their mother had already stolen you away herself, and Odin simply sighed, and got up to follow his sons to head to the Library. 

By the time they met back up with you and Freya, you and her were already getting along like a house on fire- she’d asked about your mother, her health, your childhood, her own expieriences that related when raising Thor and Loki, and when she heard about your little tradition with Thor with books, she picked out a book for you to take home to read, and to keep. You felt comfortable enough with her to ask about Loki and Odin’s relationship, the comment Thor’s friends made about being King one day and how you weren’t big on the idea, and also how according to how your dad and Loki talked about Odin, you were much more worried about meeting him than her. Freya had answers your questions, reassured you of your worries, and promised Odin would be on his best behaviour, and she helped your first meeting with Odin a lot from the get go. 

As soon as Freya saw her husband, she stood first, smiling. “Odin, thank you for joining us. I was just about to ask Y/N if they’d like a private family dinner. What do you think?” Freya asked him, wrapping an arm around you again, and you smiled nervously at your grandfather, who was a lot more intimidating than you had anticipated. Odin didn’t talk at first, stepping a little closer, and you panicked internally, not knowing what to do, if you were supposed to do something- but Freya had kept her arm around you, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance. 

“That can certainly be arranged. It’ll let us get to know our grandson. Thor, will you come with me to make the arrangements?” He asked, of his oldest, who nodded. “See you at dinner, Y/N.” He told you, before making his leave, Thor smiling at you, before following after him. 

“In the meantime.” Freya spoke up once the two were quite a distance away. “Y/N, want to learn some magic?” She asked. 

“Mother, I don’t know about that…” Loki fussed. 

“Just beginning spells, nothing serious… we’ll save that for later. Maybe you could mentor Y/N as well when back on Midgard.” She suggested, and you realised that maybe, just maybe… Loki got some of his mischief from his mother. 

“Am I able to do magic? Since I’m half human?” You questioned. 

“I believe so, it’s worth a try. You coming Loki?” Freya questioned her son, who simply sighed, and followed after, deciding to be apart of his mother’s antics, knowing that Thor might lose his mind when he finds out about this. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my Gif

TAGS: @insanityismysanity12345 @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[thatbitchery]

'Power' and 'power hungry' are those words that we have demonized and sacrificed to spread the level down propaganda that's egalitarianism and anti- hierarchy, when power is not only inbuilt meaning we all seek it but extremely important and useful to life.

Power is the ability to influence the outcome, perception and course of events. People that have power are people that have- control or at least influence over lives, theirs or otherwise. Lack of power is the most painful position one can be in- exhibit A your childhood if you had one of those parents. Lack of power power leads to slavery, bring under dictatorship, resentment, self loathing, humiliation, shame, etc. The most painful position you can be in is one where you Lack power over yourself.

Neitzsche (I can never correctly spell his name) insists that power over yourself is the most important form of power, and that a good life is a life spent garnering and exercising power over yourself. Power over yourself is simply- discipline. When your will is stronger than your impulses and urges and wants- when you're disciplined- then you have achieved the highest form of power in existence- which makes this the first point. An easy way to be powerful is to be disciplined.

Power over others, however , is just as important. As social species we are constantly in need of company, in fact isolation is a death- to be at the mercy of others is also a death. Since as a social species we are dependent on each other for survival it is important to have some level of power over others- we are also animals and people will naturally treat you at the lowest level they can- it's important to make this level as high as possible.

So then, some cheap / completely free easy to do ways to be powerful?

Articulation and eloquence. Jordan Peterson says the most dangerous thing a person can be is to be articulate and eloquent. Why? Because words are the most powerful weapon out there. Everything social happens through words , and it's a social species so do the math. Wars have been declared and ended over and through words. Relationships formed and destroyed. Governments created and disbanded- words. In my religion save for human beings Everything was created by words- its that powerful. The most powerful you can be is articulate. The way you speak- from your surface lexicon to your intonation to the speed you use to your accent- people judge you over this. It influences how people treat you and think of you. It's soft power that's also explosive. Increase your surface lexicon. Get rid of your original accent and get one that people either a) find superior or b) commonplace ie most people have it (fun fact before skin color and origin we assess each other on accent basis and subconsciously decode if we like you or not. Explanation: people in the same tribe have the same accent , so consider eo brothers and safe. Strangers, not so much). Learn to pace your words. Be straightforward and open. Which drives me to point two

Honesty and authenticity. Look , I think you should lie. Manipulate girl boss gatekeep - these require lying at some point- go for it. What's more powerful, though, is to learn to ger what you want by manipulating the truth. You know what they say- the truth will set you free. Here's the problem with lying- we can tell. There are tells and subconsciously cues that your body sends when you lie and we subconsciously detect them and when you're caught in one lie it destroys your credibility all round. It's like a castle of jenga falling apart, everything that was once in harmony just- trips over. Credibility is the backbone of all relationships- you lose that you get isolated. Honesty is such a powerful tool because a) its vulnerable b) it signals confidence c) it builds trust d) the gift of companionship- you meet people that can actually relate e) you don't need to remember too much or always hold up a facade, the truth will set you free f) it's such an idgaf move that makes you seem superior especially if it's something you'd get judged harshly on. Just- be truthful- I've given f ways in which it influences how people treat you. The trick here is to do the mystery thing- keep things to yourself, unlearn your need to overexplain or justify, learn to give vague, short and true answers and when in doubt, cry.

Knowledge is power- what more must I add. Read. Keep up with the economics and government politics. Learn personal finance and build a financial base. Read fiction. Listen to podcasts. Be informed. Know the things that matter, and no that isn't drake X Kendrick Lamar it's things that matter. Get good grades and hold, at the very least, a bachelor's. Watch movies and go to the opera. Subscribe to newsletter. Be informed. Know. Knowledge is power. Join training camps and whatnots. Be skilled and efficient.

Networks. Power is stored in webs and security is in numbers. Exhibit a) try attack someone with a strong fan base see how that goes for you. You want to be powerful? Have friends, and not just friends. Powerful friends. I don't mean a team of CEOs necessarily- loyalty at the top is tricky and unless you're also a CEO that might not be easy- I mean people that can influence the turn of events. Sometimes- like in fandoms- it's simply just, people. Who your networks are made up of is dependent on what you want- as long as you keep in mind security is in numbers. Run up your numbers, ma'am. Forget your introvercy and self isolation methods , leave your house and learn to talk to people and run up your numbers. The most powerful you can be, is to get to a point where a) you have numbers on every level b)you have a cult leader like presence- that people worship you and are willing to die for you. Like most celebrities do. That's security, that's power. If you have a Nicki Minaj level fan base people treat you well because if they don't your fans will tear them apart. & you can get away with anything because they will justify it for you.

Grooming and mannerisms. We- inclusive of you- judge our books by their covers. Before you speak your Grooming and your etiquette speak for you. That's, I'm not explaining this. I know you know.

START HERE

[libby-for-life]

Hey! I saw that you do staticradio and I'm wondering if you would do this request?

so I'm not really a fan of staticmoth, so basically Vox is in semi abusive relationship with Valentino, that he can't seem to get out of, and even though Vox knows that Valentino doesn't really love him, but he's just desperate for some type of affection that he know he can't get for who he actually wants. And after a tiring day with Valentino and Velvette, Vox goes to his office for some peace, but finds a letter from Alastor to meet at his Radio Tower. Their he finds Alastor with a tied up Valentino. And since you know Alastor is known for broadcasting his carnage for all of Hell to hear.... This is Alastor grand jester to Vox to accept him as Alastor's. And we'll it's not like Vox could just say no, lol🤭🤭🫣🫣(he is very much into what he just witnessed)

Possessive Sex, with kinda non-consenual voyeurism, because Alastor is still Broadcasting, which he is aware of, not that Alastor care. He's glad that Hell knows Vox is off the market and all HIS.

Oh, my. I like how you think anon. I am more than happy to do this. Again, I will be respecting Alastor for being Ace.

Vox groaned as he sat up and another piece of his glass face fell to the ground. Valentino was too rough again and the result had his face smashed into a wall. When Vox tried to yell that he can't keep changing his screen because Val decided to have a piss fit, all he heard was, "I liked your older form. At least that form could take a hit instead of some whiney bitch. I have whores who are better-behaved than you."

Vox had flinched and slumped over when Valentino sauntered out of their shared penthouse, hips swaying in what the TV demon supposed was meant to entice demons. It just made Vox glare harder. His boyfriend was probably going to end up having sex with some slut from work and then post about it knowing that Vox would get jealous of it all.

He had once tried explaining that he didn't like to share when he was in a relationship but Valentino had just laughed before saying nobody liked a clingy slut. No apology. Not even a good explanation as to why he insisted that he sleep with every good-looking demon walking his way. No, it was Vox's fault. It was always Vox's fault.

The Media Demon shook his head. No, he could make this work! Maybe he had been a bit too clingy. Nobody liked it when you're partner hung over you and didn't give you space. He picked up a shard of glass from the ground and held it in the palm of his hand. He needed to be better. Give more. Stop demanding more. If he pissd Val off again he might leave just like—

Vox shook his screen. No. He shouldn't dwell on someone who abandoned him. He should focus on keeping the person in his life right now happy. Besides, he was needed downstairs. Velvette needed him to model something and she got angry when he wasn't on time. He got up to change his screen so he wouldn't be late.

"Are you sure this is what it's supposed to look like?" Vox asked, suspicious and uncomfortable with what he was wearing. Why was he in a dress and why were there so many straps on it?! Sure, the dress was nice, a blue and red piece that looked elegant on him and his admittedly snatched waist but he wasn't really one to wear this type of clothing.

"Uh, it looks nice," Vox said when he noticed Velvette glaring at him. She smirked at the compliment and flipped her hair. "Of course it does. I'm not the Fashion Overlord for nothing!" She peered down at the dress with a frown before snapping her fingers. The dress became shorter and the elegant dress became something out of a porno video Val would direct.

"Velvette!" He screamed. He was lucky that no one was here to witness the blush spreading across his face. "What? The only positive things your body has is your waist and ass! I wanted to show it off." Velvette explained. "Now, look in the mirror and tell me what you think."

With a blush that resembled pixels of red and blue, he carefully examined his scantily clad figure. The scrap of fabric barely covered his ass. The dress now had a low-cut v-neck that made Vox blush even harder. He didn't feel comfortable in this. He tried saying as much, but Velvette was quick to interrupt.

"You promised you would bloody help me!" Velvette all but yelled at his face making Vox sigh. This was going to be an exhausting day. He could already tell.

Vox stumbled into his office breathing out a shaky breath. "Godamn it, Val. Why do you do thi-i-is?" He muttered. He could still remember what went down just an hour ago. Apparently, Valentino needed him at his porn studio. It was important. He purred into the phone just the way Vox liked it and he immediately felt weak in the knees.

"Of course. I'll be right there." He dressed himself nicely, making sure to put a lot of effort into his suit and appearance.

He was practically vibrating as he walked into the studio. Vox tried not to look at the production going on as he tried to find his boyfriend. After asking a few demons, he finally got a concrete answer. The moth demon was in his private office. The one where they used for quick romps whenever Valentino felt like having sex with him.

Making sure he looked nice, he knocked before opening the door. What caught his attention made his blood boil. Valentino wanted sex alright. Just not with his boyfriend. He could feel his body overheating as he watched them moan into the mattress. "What the fuck?!" He yelled. Both of them looked at him but Val had the gal to laugh at him.

"Come on, baby." The moth beckoned him closer. "Want to make this a threesome?"

"No! You know I don't like this!" Vox yelled, throwing the nearest lamp into a wall. "Did you just ask me here to mock me?! Make me angry?!"

Val growled, sending the whore he was on top of trembling. "Vox, watch yourself." He said but Vox didn't even hear that. He was far too mad. "Why do you do this?! Fuck, I give everything in this relationship and yet—"

A slap echoed in the room and Vox felt himself fritz a bit now that a chunk of his glass was shattered. "Why do you bitch and moan about the stupidest of things? God, we're not exclusive, slut." That shattered something in Vox's soul. He felt numb as he heard Valentino call him every insult under the sun. He finished his rant by saying, "You've ruined the vibe, Voxy. Go mope in your tower where I can come fuck you when I need you." Vox was pushed out of the office and he heard the distinct sound of the door locking. Not even a minute later he could hear moaning and panting. The Media Demon could feel himself beginning to cry, so he walked to the nearest camera and jumped through it, disappearing into the wires.

Now, Vox was cradling his hurt face and trying not to sob as he fixed it. The water could ruin his circuits. He forced himself to sit up and head for his desk where he kept some spare screens. Falling into his chair, he was quick to change it, making sure no sharp glass got stuck in his wires.

He sighed when the new screen popped into place and he finally allowed himself to cry. Why did he keep doing this?! He knew Valentino didn't love him. It was obvious with how he was treated. Besides, his heart would always belong to someone else...

Shaking his head, he decided to get some work done. That was when he saw it. A decorative red card that smelled faintly of copper and roses. He recognized the scent almost immediately. It's been a while since he was able to smell it so directly though.

Alastor was in his office. At first, he was panicked. What the hell was the Radio Demon doing in the Vee's tower?! He had security for a reason! But then, curiosity filled him. Why would Alastor leave one of his calling cards here? What game was he playing?

Deciding to finally read the card, he turned it over. It was simple and to the point. Come to the Radio Tower before my daily broadcast.

Vox felt his inside warm up pleasantly before he squashed it. He wasn't getting his hopes up that this had anything to do with how Vox truly felt. Alastor probably wanted to fight and went to him for the most entertainment.

He should crumble the card and throw it away. He should leave it and forget about it.

"Oh, what the hell," Vox muttered. He wasn't going to do any of that. He could never ignore Alastor. Maybe a fight would do him some good.

Standing up, he stretched and looked at the time. Plenty of time to arm himself and make himself look presentable for their fight. He felt the need to destroy something anyway.

Vox stood beside the Radio Tower with a smirk. It wasn't often that Alastor invited him over for a fight but he was prepared. Climbing up the steps, he was prepared to blast open the door when it opened for him.

"Vox! My dear, you're just in time!" Alastor said with his trademark grin. "You bet I am!" Vox said, extending his claws. "Where do you do this? Street 666 would have a lot of casualties and I know you like blood baths."

Alator tilted his head before laughing. Vox felt himself deflate. Here was another demon laughing at him. He didn't like it. "Would you just tell me what is going on?!" He glitched out. He was lucky he wasn't stuttering with how his voice was betraying him.

"Oh, Vox. I'm not laughing at you. I should have been more specific on the card, but c'est la vi~."

Vox blinked and really studied the Radio Demon. He looked calm and at ease, as always, but there was no underlying tension just before they fought. "Alastor, what did you call me here for?"

"Ah!" Alastor brightened. "Of course, this way for your surprise!" A strong hand found its way to his waist and he was pulled into the tower. Vox felt himself blush at the contact but forced himself to be nonchalant about it all. If the smirk on the Radio Demon's face was anything to go off of, he failed.

"Here you are! What do you think?!"

"Alastor, what the fuck?"

His surprise consisted of Valentino hogtied on the floor with angelic rope. It glowed in the dim light of the room. The moth demon was gagged as well, but the noise coming from him told Vox he was probably cursing up a storm.

Vox didn't know what to do. Of all the things he was expecting from Alastor, this was not even close on his list.

"Now, don't be shy, my dear. We have a broadcast to do." Vox still didn't understand what the hell was going on and he said as much to the Radio Demon.

"Can't you tell? We're taking out the trash. I've always hated this bug, but I have a feeling you want this just as much as I do. To feel this miserable wretch die in its own blood."

Vox blinked. He kidnapped Valentino to kill him and he wanted the Media Demon to help?

His eyes trailed down to his boyfriend's tied-up form. He was struggling to get out of the bindings and let out grunts of effort. The moth demon's clothes were destroyed, leaving him in tattered scraps. Vox thought he looked pathetic.

"If you're still feeling hesitant, why don't you just stay and watch?" Alastor suggested. "Besides, after everything he's done, surely he deserves it." Vox thought about every time he was cheated on. How Valentino would always invalidate, humiliate, and discard him because he could. Then he would pull him back in with sweet words until Vox was hooked on the bastard's poison.

Turning to Alastor, he said, "Fine. But I'm just watching."

Then, to Vox's absolute embarrassment, Alastor gently took his hand and kissed the back of it.

"Let's begin~."

Vox watched in fascination as Alastor tortured his ex-boyfriend. Normal people should be disgusted by what they were seeing. Vox wasn't normal by any means. In fact, just looking at the Radio Demon at work made Vox hot under the collar.

How can someone look so good covered in blood?

"Well, folks. It seems this is the end of Valentino." Alastor growled, holding the decapitated head of the moth demon. "Not even I would eat such filth."

Vox watched mesmerized as the Radio Demon turned to him. He walked over to him and before Vox could even blink, he was wrapped up in tentacles. "Wha?! Alastor!" Vox yelled, struggling for a moment before the taller demon kissed him.

Sparks lept off of Vox and he shook as the kiss continued. Alastor chuckled and they both broke for air.

"Do you want this? While I might not be able to give you pleasure how most demons would, I can be quite creative~"

Vox felt like he was dreaming. Was the Radio Demon serious? Did Alastor just ask him to have sex with him?!

"If you're teasing me again, I will fucking kill you." Vox threatened before kissing Alastor again. They both moaned into the kiss, the Media Demon felt sharp fingers brush his clothes before ripping through them. Vox didn't even care that that was an expensive suit.

More clothes were ripped and soon Vox was naked and being held aloft by tentacles. When he felt something poke his entrance, he whimpered. "My, you're sensitive~!" Vox blinked and opened teary eyes and saw that Alastor was holding his cane which had a crackling microphone. He was broadcasting still?!

Before Vox could complain, he felt the rough thrust of a tentacle enter him causing him to scream in ecstasy. Alastor chuckled, his filled with lust. Despite that, he wasn't hard in the slightest. A tentacle forced its way into his mouth, gagging him perfectly.

"Do you hear that? Vox is mine. And only mine. Anyone who tries to touch what's mine gets a spot as my dinner." One last tentacle wrapped around Vox's dick and it took everything in him not cum on the spot.

"Now, listening to my pet? That, I might allow on occasion." Alastor bent down and bit into Vox's neck, blood oozing to the surface. Vox screamed and came on the floor.

Vox shook from everything and Alastor patted his head, rubbing his sensitive antennas. "Thank you for tuning in, until next time."

[narnian-neverlander]

Reaching Out [Adam Warlock x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: The Sovereign are responsible for some of the biggest tragedies in your life. But when you meet one of them that just seems different, you find yourself reevaluating your stance and reaching out to him.

Word Count: 1,6k

Warnings: Guardians 3 spoilers, talk about canon typical violence

A/N: Haven’t written/posted sth in about… 5-6 years??? But of course Will Poulter being a literal and figurative golden boy is what gets me back to it 🤷

This was really just supposed to be a prelude to a scenario I actually wanted to write, but it kinda got away from me, so have it on it’s own

Best friend or not, when you’d come back from a mission of your own to learn that Rocket’s kleptomaniac tendencies had put you smack dab in the middle of a crossfire with the Sovereign, you’d had half a mind to stuff and mount him to a wall. You’d spent almost your entire life hiding from that nation and now you were back on their radar. After just barely escaping Ego and the Sovereign army by the skin of your teeth, you’d immediately started packing, ready to run and hide again; they would come for you, that hadn��t been a question of if, but when. And you would not put your newfound family at risk by staying with them.

Except… they’d refused to let you leave. Every last one of them. They’d sat you down and demanded an explanation at the very least, so you’d done just that. Told them about how the Sovereign had considered your people a threat, an abomination even, due to your shapeshifting abilities. About the destruction of your planet, your people and finally finding a temporary safe haven on the little mud-ball known as earth. It’d been quiet for a long moment after that, then Gamora had shrugged and with a very blunt ‘What’s one more target on our backs?’ the discussion was over and Drax was carrying your bags back to your room before you could utter a single word of protest. You would never admit it to any of them, but you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. People you could rely on, who’d risk their lives for you - you hadn’t had that in a very long time.

The memory of that day had been fresh on your mind when your retrieval mission at Orgocorp’s headquarters had gone sideways; severely outnumbered with the Sovereign and the High Evolutionary’s lackeys on their way, you’d gladly stayed behind to give your friends a clean escape. The fact that you’d ended up in the hands of the people you’d been hiding from your whole life didn’t matter if it meant giving the others a chance to save Rocket.

You’d only arrived on Knowhere to the aftermath of the attack of the Sovereign’s newest weapon, but whatever you’d been expecting hadn’t been… him. He was different from any Sovereign you’d ever come across. The golden-skinned race of people weren’t exactly known to be particularly individualistic or open-minded, but the Warlock constantly asked questions in such innocence and naivety, it was almost endearing - and frustrating to the High Priestess to no end. The incredulous bark of laughter that had escaped you when he’d flat out told her that he did not like how hurting people made him feel had earned you a few new bruises to the face from the annoyed woman, but it’d been worth it. There was something absolutely hysterical to you about their perfect super weapon apparently having just a bit too much of a mind of his own, only further proven when he’d openly opposed his mother and had insisted on keeping the Ravager’s pet as his companion.

And then he’d saved Peter. Unprompted, a choice all his own; maybe the very first of it’s kind he’d made. As baffling as it had been, you’d seen a lot during your travels of the universe, so maybe, just maybe, a Sovereign with a kind heart wasn’t completely unthinkable. So when you leave the cantina, tears still fresh in your eyes from having said goodbye to some of the people you called family, and find him sitting hunched over on a flight of stairs, dirty, bruised and looking so incredibly lost and alone, you decide to do the unthinkable yourself: you reach out.

There’s plenty of people buzzing about, already repairing the damage the battle did to Knowhere and helping the new arrivals settle in. You grab a blanket from one of them as you pass and weave your way through the crowd. He doesn’t even realize he’s your target until you drape the blanket over his shoulders, making him flinch in the process. Wide, surprised eyes follow your movements as you settle down next to him on the stairs, but he pulls the fabric tighter around himself anyways. There’s a beat of awkward silence during which you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this approach through in it’s entirety, but there is one thing that comes to mind that you decide to ask him about. “You know, between you trying to kill us, my best friend almost dying and some lunatic almost destroying our home… I don’t think I ever actually caught your name. It can’t just be the Warlock, can it?”

“Adam. My name is Adam.” he answers and you give an acknowledging nod as you hold out your hand to him. “Alright, it’s nice to kinda officially meet you, Adam. I’m (y/n).” He stares at your offered hand with furrowed brows and it occurs to you that in all likelihood, the guy has no idea what a handshake even is. “I’m fully aware of who you are; (y/n), the shifter.” Dropping your hand back into your lap, you honestly feel like backing off and just leaving him be. But you don’t. “Right… I’m sure Ayesha told you everything about me…” He seems to brighten at the mention of his mother, but it’s gone just as quickly and replaced by the same exhaustion he’s had in his eyes since you approached him. “She did. To help me with my mission, she gave me very detailed reports on all of you. But-“

Soft music playing from the speakers above you interrupts him and a light chuckle leaves your lips as you recognize the band as one of your favorites from earth; you catch Rocket’s eye from across the square and he gives you a grin and a wink, earning a shake of your head and a laugh in return. Bringing your attention back to the golden man beside you, you find his focus on the crowd and your friends, curiosity written all over his features, accompanied by a small, albeit sad smile. He’d quite obviously never seen a celebration before, had had no victories to celebrate. Hadn’t known the sacrifices that so often went hand in hand with triumph.

“But…?” you prompt gently and he brings his golden eyes back to you. He studies you for a long moment and you’re honestly not quite sure what exactly it is he’s looking for, but he seems to find it all the same. “But… I’m starting to think she was… mistaken about some of it. The things mother told me about the Guardians, specifically about you… don’t align with what I’ve seen for myself.” Humming thoughtfully, you start tapping your foot along to the song as the crowd starts letting loose and picking up pace. “Well… forming your own opinions, your own path? Admitting that not everything that you were taught is necessarily the right thing? That’s all part of growing up. Of becoming your own person. It’s a good thing.” He vehemently shakes his head at that. “It doesn’t feel good. My stomach hurts and it’s like I can’t breathe and I feel so… so…” He struggles to find the right words, but you know exactly what he’s talking about; you’ve been there yourself. “Small? Helpless? Despite your powers?” When he nods in affirmation, you continue. “What you’re feeling is fear. You’re scared. Scared about change, about the unknown that now lies in front of you. It’s perfectly normal, everybody gets scared sometimes.”

If possible, his shoulders slump further and he seems to curl into himself even more. In spite of his tall stature, he seems so incredibly small in that very moment and it makes your heart clench. “Everybody gets scared… I don’t have everybody to guide me, though. I do not have anyone left...” You don’t mean to, you truly don’t, but you can’t help the inelegant snort that escapes you at that; one that erupts into full blown laughter when he gives you a look that can only be described as somewhere between scandalized and actually hurt. “Please”, you manage between wheezes, “you really think we’re gonna save your life and then leave you to fend for yourself? Nah, you can stay here with us - only if you want, of course.” He blinks at you, once, twice, before he says “But… I tried to kill you?” His deadpan delivery makes you laugh yet again, even if it is the truth. “Yeah, we’ve all tried to do that to each other at one point or another, actually.” You find Nebula, gleefully dancing with some of the kids and a grin spreads across your face. “Some on more than one occasion. But here we are, one big, happy, messed up family.”

Adam still looks as puzzled as ever; why would you willingly form a family with people who’d tried to murder you? It’s obvious he’s overwhelmed with… everything, really, so you decide to drop the big, life changing conversation topics for now as you get up and dust yourself off. “Listen, all I’m saying is, you’ve got people here who are similar to you in some ways. Maybe sticking around and learning from them could help you. Either way, I think you’d fit in just fine around here, golden boy.” Big, hopeful, golden eyes follow your movements as you offer your hand to him yet again. “Come on, let’s go find you a place to rest up, okay?” There’s no confusion or hesitation this time as he takes your outstretched hand and let’s you pull him to his feet. Despite the state he’s in, he’s warm, you note, like a bunch of tiny golden suns are burning right under his skin. And as you tug him along behind you, through small alleys and groups of dancing people, he holds on tight and you decide you like how his hand feels in yours.

[cannoli-reader]

Perrin's quest, from Rand's perspective

Bouncing off @toastandjamie's post about what Rand's shenanigans look like to Mat, I thought about Rand's reaction to learning about Perrin's adventures in the Two Rivers. We just get a quick reaction when he meets the Tower-bound girls in the inn, before his attention becomes much more preoccupied with what happens shortly after, and then his reunion with Perrin is from Perrin's PoV.

So they know they are ta'veren, and know about stories of Hawkwing and so forth, but they generally can't see how it applies to themselves, except in the really obvious events that break the probability curve. But Rand does have some experience with a sudden rise to leadership. By the time the Two Rivers folk reach Caemlyn, he holds at least four or five different leadership positions himself. He's the ruler of Tear, by virtue of being the Dragon Reborn, he is the Car'a'carn, the conqueror of Cairhien and the de facto regent of Caemlyn.

Rand is a figure of prophecy, and the most powerful ta'veren in history. In Tear, he drew Callandor, the object that is the raison d'etre of the Stone of Tear, and by extension, the High Lords and their nation. And getting them to cooperate without death threats is like pulling teeth. He doesn't observe any qualities of the Tairens that impress him with their determination or resolve or independent spirit, but he just cannot get anywhere with them, without the direct application of force. Then there are the Aiel, with more prophecies singling him, and every clan sending spears across the Dragonwall to find him, and one prophecy in particular known to all the Wise Ones and clan chiefs that their survival absolutely depends on him. And again, a good third of them tell him to fuck off and another third drag their feet, only joining up after the other claimant to the position is dead. Bearing in mind that every chief and Wise One among the clans following Timolan, had to know that Rand was telling the truth and Couladin was a total liar. And they still held out until Couladin is eliminated. In Cairhien, where the food he sent saved people from starvation and the troops he sent proved to be the difference in holding the city against the Shaido, and he himself led the liberating army that drove them off, he could not even get them to cooperate in asserting their own national identity and sovereignty. In Caemlyn, where they had actual Shadowpawn corpses for evidence, and all he wanted of them was to restore the status quo of their own laws and customs and kept insisting he had no intention of ruling, all he got was people trying to get him to assert his authority or demanding he not do any of the things he said he wouldn't. And bearing in mind, in the latter two countries, they have to be aware of his position and destined leadership role. But the "good" faction of Andoran nobles are more ready to fight him over their class privilege and independence (a readiness none of them showed wrt the man who actually crowned himself King of Andor and claimed the Lion Throne, whom none of them even knew could channel) than talk about preparing for Tarmon Gaidon.

And then Perrin goes home, where the Children of the Light have somehow been sent by Padan Fain to terrorize their people (think of that trope in movies and so forth, where the hero arrives at home or wherever his family is, to discover his enemies have popped in for a visit and his loved ones are learning about their conflict for the first time, and after the confrontation is resolved, his parents or spouse are angry and upset and demanding explanations: that should, to Rand's & Perrin's thinking, have been the Two Rivers folk to Perrin & Rand over the enemies they caused to descend on their hometown), where their own actions and failures have led to this invasion of their homeland, and he's going to try to make it right. There are the folk whose reputation for stubbornness and independence is known in the court of Andor, by people who are unaware of their current standing with the national legal system. Gawyn doesn't know how utterly indifferent the Two Rivers folk are to his mother's rule, but he does know they are stubborn and difficult to lead. And Rand, Mat, Perrin and Nynaeve have spent the last year and a half telling the Aes Sedai who did help them when the Shadow was hunting them, where to head in, while Egwene has been about as cooperative as a broken-legged mule at helping her ex do anything other than hook up with her bff, never mind that the fate of the world rests on his success (arguably with the hooking up as well, though neither of them know that).

And when Rand meets some people from home, it's all Lord Perrin this, and Lord Perrin that. Also, at some point, Rand seems to have twigged to the fact that the girlfriend Perrin never introduced to him is also the daughter of his current advisor, since it is on his mind when Perrin leaves his rooms to go meet the parents, and no mention of any surprise at learning this during their visit. And Perrin has married the daughter of a triple lord and great captain, the uncle of a queen and Marshal-General of one of the most militaristic states in the known world. Meanwhile the Lord Dragon before whom the world kneels in awe, is getting hate mail from one woman for trying to support her career, and the one he actually slept with, is treating him like he has a communicable disease, while not cooperating at all with his efforts to protect her from the danger he attracts.

Rand saved Cairhien from Shaido and the Stone of Tear and the Royal Palace of Andor from Trollocs. He is the only hope of saving the Aiel from Tarmon Gaidon. And you'd think these were crimes he had committed against them for all the gratitude they show, much less obedience they give.

The majhere of the Stone makes Rand feel guilty about asking for extra mattresses, Reene Harfor searches Rand's room for loot, but Mistress Luhan curtsies to Perrin. He has to be wondering, how the hell is Perrin doing it? Which one of them is actually the super-ta'veren again!?

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: American Football

Read the first two chapters here: Ch. 1 Ch. 2

Gray teaches the Savanaclaw students about American football.

My enrollment situation at NRC is slightly tricky, primarily because I am technically enrolled as one half of a full student (Grim being the other half). This means that there was some initial confusion on how to administer and grade work- were Grim and I supposed to work on it and turn in assignments together, like a group project? Or should we be graded entirely separately from each other? Or both complete the assignment and then average our grades together?

In the end, it was decided that we would be graded separately, which was a relief. Grim wasn’t exactly a star student, and I wasn’t interested in his poor study skills pulling down my grade. Not that it was all that high to begin with.

Unfortunately, that still left us with another problem: Electives and clubs. Did Grim and I have to agree on which ones to take, since we only counted as a full student together?

The short answer was, basically, yes. Crowley insisted that, because I couldn’t use magic and Grim was an ‘atypical student,’ it would be better for us to attend classes together. Clubs were given a similar explanation- plenty of clubs had magic requirements, so I couldn’t attend those without Grim if I wanted to, and Crowley tended to insist that my presence was required with Grim when attending school events. I suspected Crowley just made the restriction up so I would be free to babysit Grim in class and at club events, but every time I tried to call him on his shit, he would make comments about how generous he was for even letting us stay here at all. So, I decided not to push it.

In the end, Grim managed to whine Crowley into allowing two clubs for the pair of us- I was more or less saddled with Newspaper Club duties, whereas Grim was allowed to pick his own club of choice. We had to attend each others’ meetings, but as long as all the duties got done, it didn’t matter much who did what. And Grim, being an annoying little shit, decided to go for one of the more irritating clubs on campus.

In summation, that fun little chain of events was why I was sitting on the sidelines of a Spelldrive practice match. Because I certainly wouldn’t have gone of my own free will.

Well, that’s a bit harsh. It’s not that I think Spelldrive is bad. I just have the same problem with it as I have with other sports. Namely: There’s only so many times you can watch a ball (or puck, or disk) go up and down the same field before you want to bash your brains in.

Grim, however, was delighted with the entire sport and had announced his desire to be in the Spelldrive club as soon as it became a possibility. Which meant that I had to choose between spending at least an hour every week watching a sport or I could spend the rest of my NRC experience listening to Grim whine and complain about how I was ruining his chance to be the best, most famous mage EVER.

I picked the former. Obviously. And the practice wasn’t all bad. Watching people play around with magic is cool, and Jack stops by when he gets back from his track and field club. I can’t tell if he likes me or if he’s just being nice because he thinks he owes me one for helping to save his housewarden from an inky fate, but he’s pleasant to be around, so I’ll take the win.

My official position in the Spelldrive club seems to more or less be ‘benchwarmer.’ Which makes sense, since it’s not like I can actually play the game. Not that that stops Leona from making me run through the drills at the beginning of practice. I’m just lucky he doesn’t make me run laps while everyone else is playing.

I swing my legs, leaning back on the bench to stretch my back. The air is warm and almost muggy, though that doesn’t bother me much. I’ve always preferred it warm to cold. Even with my eyes off the practice game, I can still pretty much tell what’s going on- Leona’s constantly scolding poor players or yelling instructions from the sidelines. I’d consider his lack of actual participation to be laziness, except that on the rare times he does participate, he dominates pretty much everyone on the field.

The sound of footsteps makes me look up. Jack, dressed in his PE gear and mopping sweat off with a towel, approaches my bench.

“How’s it going?” he asks, stopping once he’s close enough to speak comfortably.

“I dunno. I think Leona’s getting annoyed at some first years.” I pass him a water bottle from my stash and Jack chugs half the thing in one go.

“He’s always annoyed at first years,” Jack says. His eyes scan the field and his ears prick at attention. “They’re not coordinating at all. They’ll never play like a pack if they don’t start paying attention to each other.”

“Sure,” I agree amiably enough. He probably knows what he’s talking about. “Grim’s probably not helping. I like that little fuzzball, but he’s got an ego on him.”

“Yes,” Jack agrees. He folds his arms over his chest and stares out critically toward the field. I do the same, until my head starts to prickle. I follow the feeling and find Jack staring at me.

“What?”

Jack snorts, ears and tail twitching. “You’re good at controlling Grim and those other two. Maybe you could help bring the team together.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Okay, one, I wrangle Grim. I don’t control him, and I certainly don’t control Ace or Deuce. Sometimes I can get them all on the same path, but it’s not like I’m managing a whole group of them. Second, no magic, so no Spelldrive. And third, even if I had magic, I wouldn’t be playing. I hate sports.”

Jack frowns. “All sports?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” I shrug. “Never liked any of them. I did running for, like. Six months once, and that really sucked. I was awful at it.”

Jack gives me a once-over. “You need to build your strength up. You’re not…” His expression screws up and he stops.

“Glad you’re wise enough not to end that sentence,” I say, mostly joking. Like I could ever actually get the jump on Jack.

His tail whips back and forth. “I meant you’re not very physically active. If you started doing morning jogs with me, you would get better.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I say, mostly to be nice, “but I’m already spending most of my time studying to try and catch up on all the information I don’t know about here. I need all the sleep I can get.” It’s not totally a lie, but I am omitting the fact that I consider forcing someone to get up at sunrise to work out to be a form of torture. Jack accepts the answer, though.

We watch the spelldrive match in silence for a few moments. Grim manages to get ahold of the disc, only to promptly fire it halfway down the field toward the opposing goal. Grim’s aim is apparently off, because the disc careens in an arc before plowing straight into the ground. Even across the field, I can hear Leona’s aggravated sigh.

“So, is that a foul?” I ask Jack.

“Yeah. Grounding the disc is a foul, hitting a goalpost hard enough to do damage is a foul, and serious injury is a foul.” He counts them off on his fingers. “And using non-regulation-approved spells, too, but freshmen haven’t learned anything like that yet.”

“And getting the disc through the hoops is a score,” I say. “Like basketball.”

“But the number of points varies on the hoop you get it through instead of how far you are from the basket,” Jack says. “That’s why players usually focus on the topmost hoop, since it’s worth the most points.”

The disc goes whizzing down the field again. This time, it’s snagged by another player who makes for the opposing team’s goal. They’re cut off by Ruggie, dangling off his broom, who fires off three spells in quick succession. The player dodges them, but his attacks have served their purpose- they drive him straight into a purple-haired player, who’s wearing the same team colors as Ruggie. The purple-haired student grabs the disc in his magic and starts in the opposite direction down the field.

He’s made it most of the way to the opposing goal, expertly weaving past spells on his broom, when Grim blasts a fireball toward him. The student tries to pull up on his broom, but another student swings by to take the disc back and the purple-haired student course-corrects to protect his hold on it. He succeeds in dodging the other student, but does not succeed in steading his broom, and goes spiraling into the ground.

I wince at the dull thud and play grinds to a halt. Fortunately, the purple-haired student is already clambering to his feet, apparently unharmed, if also rather pissed. “Do people get hurt a lot playing this game?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” Jack says. “Usually things are enchanted to prevent the worst accidents- no one has died from playing spelldrive in a long time.”

“Huh,” I mutter. “I guess that means they’re doing better than football.”

One of Jack’s ears twitches toward me. “People don’t die playing football?”

I blink. “I mean, they do sometimes- from the brain injuries when they tackle people.”

Jack stares at me. “People don’t tackle each other in football.”

“Yeah, they do. That’s part of the whole-” I pause. “Wait. Are you talking about the game where people kick a black-and-white ball down a field and into a net to score goals?”

He nods. “Yeah. That’s football. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about American football. That’s, uh. Football everywhere else, I guess.”

Jack’s ears twitch. “American football? Is America… something from your world?”

“Yeah. It’s where I’m from.” Jack looks mildly interested, so I continue. “It’s the big sport in my country. It involves two teams and they’re trying to shoot the ball to other ends of the field to make a touchdown. Maybe they have something similar here?”

“I’ve never heard of anything like it,” Jack says.

 I consider that. Football is only played in America, pretty much, right? Maybe it’s similarly restricted here, only in one country and other people haven’t heard of it. Or maybe it’s not known here at all.  “It’s a popular sport in the country I’m from, but I guess it’s not particularly widespread at home either.” I snag a stick from the ground and start scratching lines in the dirt. “Uh, so you have two big goals at either side of the field, and you have this egg-shaped ball-”

Jack listens attentively as I struggle to map out the basic game. Unfortunately, I’m realizing exactly how much I understand the rules of football. Which is very little.

“Uh. So. You’re kind of trying to move the ball down the field by throwing it and then running, and the other team tries to stop you,” I say, sketching out lines. Jack crouches next to my drawing, ears pricked at attention.

“They tackle you to stop you,” he clarifies. I nod.

“Yeah, and- Oh crap.” Jack turns to look at what I’ve already seen- a flailing Grim held at arm’s length by the scruff of his neck by Ruggie. “What happened?”

Ruggie opens his hand and Grim drops to the ground, then scrambles over to me and burrows into my side sulkily. “He’s benched,” Ruggie says by way of explanation.

Grim puffs up like a sea urchin. “I didn’t do nothin’ wrong! The goal was open so I took a shot-”

“You’re on defense. You’re not supposed to be taking shots.” Ruggie’s annoyed demeanor cracks a little, his sly smile appearing on his face. “Sheeheehee, though it was funny to see the look on Leona’s face when the disc nearly hit him.”

“You almost hit Leona?” I say, frowning at Grim. He stomps one of his paws.

“He was close to the goal! If he’d been standin’ even another couple of feet to the left-”

“How many times are we going to have to go over this?” I groan. “You gotta watch out for people and things with your magic.” Grim huffs, tail waving in irritation. “Sorry about that, Ruggie. And tell Leona I’m sorry too.”

“He doesn’t care,” Ruggie shrugs. He catches sight of my rudimentary drawing and frowns. “What’s that?”

“Gray’s trying to explain American football to me,” Jack says. “Have you ever heard of it?” It strikes me as a bit silly that he’s asking it, since it wouldn’t be called ‘American’ football here, but then again, I’ve been surprised by weird similarities before.

Ruggie shrugs. “Nah. But I never followed sports much, so I maybe wouldn’t have heard of it.” He bends over to get a closer look. “What’s with all the Xs and Os?”

“So, the X team is defending right now and the O team is advancing,” I explain. In all honesty, I’m not sure what they represent. I just saw football diagrams with Xs and Os in them.

“Football’s a kind of war game, then?” Ruggie says. “That’s interesting. What kind of spells are allowed?”

“No, there’s no magic allowed. You have to get the ball to the end of the field, and you do that by throwing it to other teammates-” I launch into the explanation a second time, trying to keep straight everything I already told Jack. I fumble over the rules a few times, which Jack immediately jumps on, and then I have to wrack my brain to remember the exact rules.

Practice ends as we’re talking, or I assume it does because people stop flying or running around and start leaving. After a few more minutes, I’m aware of someone sidling closer and closer. Then I’m aware that it’s Leona. It reminds me of a cat, the way he casually strides closer, occasionally pausing and glancing around like he’s just happening to come our way, and is perfectly content to go elsewhere if a better opportunity presents itself.

“If the ball hits the ground then the teams swap from defending to attacking?” Ruggie asks. I sigh.

“Um, not exactly- there are things called downs? First down, second down, third down, and fourth down. It references the amount of yards you travel, I think, and if you get a certain distance, you can start there when the ball stops moving.” I’m not totally sure what I’m saying is right, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Grim perches on my head, peering down at the drawing.

“And you score through getting the ball through the big goals at either side?” he says. “Doesn’t seem that hard. They’re way bigger than the hoops.”

“You actually just have to run it across the end zone, which is the zone the goals are in,” I say, drawing it out. “But you can also kick the ball to get a field goal, but that’s hard because the field’s so big. And when you score, you get an opportunity to kick the ball, which can go through the goal and that earns you an extra point-”

There’s a huff and I glance up. Leona is closer, leaning down over the drawing. He snorts again. “Are all the games where you’re from so complicated?”

“Not all of them,” I say. “And I admittedly don’t understand this one that much.”

Leona snorts, leaning forward so his elbow is resting on Ruggie’s head. “That’s not surprising, herbivore.” I roll my eyes. Leona’s prickly by both nature and habit, and he snipes far more easily than anyone else I’ve met on campus. I don’t like it, but it’s at least reassuring to know exactly how he feels about me. Too many people here are conniving enough to be cruel with a smile- Leona’s at least got the decency to do it with a frown.

“Have you ever heard of American football, Leona?” Jacks asks. He’s the picture of respect toward his upperclassman, though I’ve told him several times that there’s nothing to respect.

“Nah. Never.” Leona shrugs. His gaze sweeps critically over the diagram. “If it’s called football, how come people are always throwing the ball?”

I make my voice as deliberately mysterious as I can. “No one knows.”

Leona rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Here.” He shoves something at me and I fumble under its weight- it takes me a moment to realize it’s the spelldrive gear bag.

“What do I need this for?” I ask, startled. Leona gives me a condescending look.

“You’re supposed to be part of this club. If you’re not going to play, you’re going to at least help haul the gear back where it belongs.” I resist the urge to groan. If this school is so jazzed on magic, how come we have to put things away by hand? If I had magic, cleaning spells would be the first thing I’d master.

Grim snickers on my shoulder, only to fall silent when Leona glares at him. “Don’t think you’re getting off so easy, weasel. You’re helping to clean up the field. Ruggie’s in charge.” An evil grin immediately spreads over Ruggie’s face. I can’t help but think I’ve just gotten the better end of the deal.

“I’ll show you where the sports equipment goes,” Jack offers. I nod at him in thanks and hand a protesting Grim over to Ruggie. His complaints echo down the field as Jack and I start hauling the equipment away. I glance back at the diagram to see Leona studying it, tail swaying lazily behind him, before he huffs and lounges out on the bench, hands behind his head. Despite his obvious lack of care for the drawing, he doesn’t bother to brush it away. It’s still there when I return for the next spelldrive practice.

(Though, I don’t know if it’s there for any longer than that- after two weeks straight of cleaning the field under Ruggie’s supervision, Grim quits the Spelldrive club in a shower of sparks and heads off to start his own club. I can’t say I’m not relieved.)

Read the next chapter here.

[theliterarywolf]

Can I have an explanation as to what is the Fyre Festival(?) I don't know if I'm too young or not American enough to know ^^''

Long story short, watch this

Short story long and I mean long, so a good portion in will have a Read More break for the sake of people's dashboards:

We have a trust-fund baby by the name of Billy McFarland. Full-on too much allowance and money from mommy and daddy and nowhere near enough brains to use it.

Billy calls himself making a black card (credit cards for obnoxiously wealthy people) company called Magnises where the premise is basically

Billy: 'Why, yes, this is a money-sink of what is already a money-sink, but with this you get amazing deals on concerts and meeting celebrities~!'

Anyone dumb enough to sign up: 'Um... Okay, at least that last part sounds good. How does it work?'

Billy: 'That's the neat part! IT DOESN'T!'

So anyone would think 'okay, you can't even make something as simple as a customized credit card work, maybe you should stay away from business and investments for a bit'. Not Billy! Because during some big party or whatever, he happened to meet the famous (to some people) rapper Ja Rule! And they got to talking and decided 'why don't we throw a music festival with high-profile acts in the Bahamas?!'

So they actually flew out to Great Exuma with a bunch of influencer thots and Instagram models and lived it up to the fullest. Why? So they could get promo material for a festival that literally didn't even exist.

So determined were they to get this footage that when one model expressed discomfort at getting into a swimming pool (it was getting late and she was cold), Ja Rule told her to, quote, 'Get your ass in the damn pool'.

So they got this footage and started promoting online. And they sold out! Awesome, right? For them to see how much interest they got had to mean that they realized they needed to get infrastructure and hospitality squared away, right?

Ha ha -- WRONG.

Because even other people who were employed by Billy and Ja Rule were telling them, begging them 'we need at least 2 years to pull off something like this'.

But remember! Billy McFarland has horrific denial issues! So he kept insisting that they could make it happen! Also, something something -- taking out a bunch of short-term loans that he couldn't afford to default on -- something.

So they go full steam ahead!

...By not paying the local laborers they hired, the restaurant-owner they hired, the staff they hired--

But, traloo-traley! They day eventually arrives! Excited festival-goers are hopping on their flights to the Bahamas, expecting the highest luxury that their $1200 tickets could pay for.

By the way, is it... too late to mention that tickets only ranged from $500 to $1200? For a two week music festival? With all amenities included? IN THE FUCKING BAHAMAS?!

Festival-goers step out of the airport and are directed onto a school bus. ...Okay. Where they are then driven to a pretty miserable looking beach. ...Okay. Where they see a swathe of disaster-relief tents.

Welcome to Fyre Festival*!

*Note: The Festival barely ended up lasting two days from a combination of festival-goers seeing the shitshow, trying to leave but not having any spending money (because the Festival was advertised as cashless), and eventually being rounded up by the Bahamian Government and taken back to the airport.

Also: In addition to the festival-goers being promised premium accommodations that turned out to be those disaster-relief tents, they were promised fine dining which those who arrived early got... At the expense of the restaurant owner who was never paid... But the rest were granted the boon of withered salad greens and 'sandwiches' made of limp bread and Government-Approved Cheese-Product (TM).

And all of this doesn't even go into the rumors of wild dog attacks, festival-goers attacking and stealing supplies from each other, Billy asking one of the event-planners, an elderly gentleman who was supposedly a long-time friend of his, to go to the head of Bahamian Customs and offer to suck his dick so they could import some drinking water, and of course Billy's scumbag denial about anything going wrong, about needing to pay his employees in the aftermath, or his eventual jail-time.

But this already got so long so, if anyone wants me to elaborate on anything else, it would have to be in response to a second ask.

[vodika-vibes]

some Jaster x Reader with a passionate kiss after one almost died please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 I‘m starving for more of this man 🫠

I'm Still Here

Summary: After a series of assassination attempts against you, Jaster welcomes you home.

Pairing: Jaster Mereel x Reader

Word Count: 1238

Warnings: Mentions of child slavery, mentions of assassination attempts

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I actually love this AU that I'm slowly crafting, and baby Jango is the most adorable baby. And this is technically a sort of sequel to the most recent Jaster fic I posted. Well, it is in my head, at least, lol.

Jaster’s going to be furious. You know this. Your astromech knows this. The medical droid charging in the cargo hold knows this. In your defense, the mission was supposed to be a lot simpler than it turned out.

Your job was to protect a business man from his competitor. You’ve done it a million times. Normally all you have to do is stand there and look intimidating, and you get a nice little paycheck at the end. 

Normally, the mention of having a Mandalorian bounty hunter is enough to keep things peaceful.

That’s not what happened this time.

Turns out the competitor was actually a slaver who had kidnapped the client’s daughter and sold her into slavery to try and force him to sign a legal document. A fact that you only found out five minutes before walking into the meeting with said competitor. 

Which meant that your simple mission turned into a much longer, much harder fiasco. The client had been near tears, distraught over his missing child, distraught over the contract he had to sign to save her, and just distraught overall.

Luckily, you’re pretty good at thinking on your feet. A simple aerosol drug left the client in an altered enough state that he wasn’t allowed to sign the contract, and a simple explanation on your part that he caught a fever from a planet he visited recently, was enough to buy you two weeks to rescue the kid.

Which you did! It took you ten days, total, and at the same time you managed to completely dismantle the slave ring. It wasn’t your intention, but, well, it was the easiest way to ensure that the little girl made it to safety and back to her parents.

And though it’s annoying, it’s not the first time a mission became more difficult halfway through. It happens, people lie. Though you got the feeling that the client didn’t lie so much as completely panic.

No. The problem came later, after you had been paid. The client and his family had been thrilled, giving you a 150% bonus, which would go towards a very nice nameday present for Jango, and probably Jaster too, and they insisted on you spending the night while they celebrated the return of their child.

And when you finally returned to your ship, which was a wedding present from Jaster, it proceeded to blow up on you. If you had left when you were supposed to, the night before, you would have been in the middle of hyperspace, and killed instantly.

As it happens, aside from several very painful bruises covering your entire body, the explosion did nothing more than give you a bad start to the day. And then the Death Watch assassin showed up. Because your day couldn’t possibly get any worse at that point.

Luckily the Port security team was on point, and they immediately came to your aid, and the assassin was put down with extreme prejudice (they were not happy about the destruction of one of their docks), and you were given the option to go to the hospital.

You refused them, and just asked to borrow a ship so you can return home.

“Borrow” of course, turned into “Here, have this ship, we certainly don’t need it! Also it comes with a medical droid and an astromech!”

And of course you couldn’t say no. 

So here you are. On a ship that’s probably more expensive than every single ship that belongs to the Haat, covered in bruises, and wondering just how annoyed Jaster is going to be.

Of course he’s going to know what happened. Your former client said that he would “message the Mand’alor to reassure him that you’re alright” and really, you were kind of hoping that Jaster just wouldn’t find out about this.

Oh well. Nothing you can do about it now.

You grimace in pain as you lean forward to start your descent onto Mandalore, following the instructions to your personal landing pad. Your new ship is about the same size as your old one, so you’re not all that worried about it fitting. 

You set the ship down, and power it down. And then you lower the ramp and watch as the pair of droids leave the ship, following your instructions as to making themselves at home in your home. 

And then you limp down the ramp, and Jaster is there, waiting for you.

He looks deeply worried, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair is sticking up in every direction, indicating to you that he’s been running his hands through his hair. 

“Jaster, I’m home.”

His gaze snaps to your face, and he crosses over to you in several large steps. “Cyare,” he reaches out and lightly cups your cheek, “Blown up? Nearly assassinated?”

You lean into his touch, “I was lucky.”

“Lucky!?”

“I wasn’t in hyperspace when my ship blew up.” You clarify, “Which is where I was supposed to be.”

Jaster goes gray at the thought, “Don’t say that,” He says hoarsely, “I can’t even think about that.”

You reach up and gently cup his face with both of your hands, “I’m okay, riduur. A bit bruised, but nothing serious.”

Jaster releases a slow breath, “You’re sure?”

“Very sure.”

He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, and he just breathes for a moment, “When I heard the news that your ship had been blown up, and someone tried to assassinate you…I feared the worst. I was sure that something was going to happen before you got home-”

“Shh, you’re borrowing trouble, love.” You whisper.

He opens his eyes, “Do you have any idea how much it would kill me to lose you?” Jaster asks.

You smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, “If it’s anything close to how I would feel if I lost you, then I have a pretty good idea.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “I love you so much,” Jaster whispers after a moment. And then his lips are against yours as he pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss.

And then there’s a disgusted noise, and he breaks the kiss as he presses his forehead against yours, “I thought you were supposed to be in lessons, Jango.” Jaster asks.

“I was! But I got bored and I saw that buir is home!” You peek to the side and see Jango has his hands over his eyes, “Are you done being gross?”

You grin at Jaster, and press a quick kiss to his lips, “I love you too,” You whisper to him. 

He lightly traces a circle against the side of your neck, “We’ll pick this up later tonight.” Jaster promises in a low voice, and then he raises his voice, “Yes, ad, we’re done being gross.”

“Ugh, finally!” Jango runs over to you and takes one of your hands, “Jas’buir said that you were blown up! Are you okay?”

You grin at your ad, and you smooth a hand through his curly hair, “You didn’t think something as silly as a little bomb could hurt me, did you?”

And a delighted grin crosses his face, “Of course not! I told Jas’buir that you’re too strong to get hurt like that! I made you something, come see it!”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming.” You flash a small smile at Jaster, and he shakes his head with a laugh as he trails after you and Jango.

[chatlote]

Details / Explanation of my NG+ Au

Notes from the art I just posted a few hours ago!

It's about 700 words long but I hope it's an enjoyable read!

The last time before New Game+ they had an honest conversation was 2/2, aka: Akechi telling Joker to accept that Akechi's life is a small sacrifice to pay for making things back to normal.

So their relationship is really confusing, at least from Akechis perspective. Rivals for most of the year, and then teaming up for the third semester because of a common goal. Even though Joker clearly cares, Akechi probably doesn’t even see that as honest and just something more like pity.

Akechi never sees himself as part of the phantom thieves during the entire 'first' run so now that he is back to the 'start' it's been a very stressful situation, he knows Shido wants to kill him within a year, but he still wants to get revenge, he is more lonely than ever before because he actually had teammates for a bit, and the phantom thieves might show up at any point and he has to face them again but he doesn’t know how to. All this on top of the fact that it's weird to have suddenly been sent back in time.

He is a great actor, his entire life for 2 years has been lies, but this level of pretending is a bit much. And I think a lot about when he just opens up to Futaba and Joker in Leblanc while he is being shunned by society for not agreeing with the PT might have been one of the few times that pretending didn’t come as easy because he was genuinely stressed/having a bad one.

So, has been sent back, and has been spending a few days unsure of what to do, or even if this is real, because he did just supposedly ‘break out of a fake reality’ but maybe that went wrong? Maybe this is once again being controlled by someone else.

And then he stumbles upon Joker in Shibuya, and that moment really breaks him, reality is catching up. He has to relive this year again. Because one of the future phantom thieves, the leader himself, just showed up.

He is not alone in feeling terrified about this whole ‘sent back in time’ thing, obviously, Joker is finding all this overwhelming too, which is why when he sees something akin to recognition in Akechis expression, he immediately has to reach out, grab him and hope, hope that he isn't wrong and he won’t have to go through all this again, alone.

This is happening in the first week of the loop, so there’s just, Joker has been to the metaverse once, Morgana hasn’t joined the team yet. Joker hasn’t told anyone about it because he isn't even sure how to go about it. Or who would believe him, or once again if he believes it himself, Maruki reality really making them question themselves.

Some stuff from after this meeting (might make some comics about this too but I have other shuake plans rn so might be a bit) From this encounter I imagine it goes into an apprehensive team-up, apprehensive from Akechi’s side. Joker will want to spend a lot of time together where they get to finally be honest with each other, and make use of all the time we lost, while Akechi tries to keep the relationship more business-like (and fails at it). They do need to figure out some lies and plans of what to do about the targets pilling up from Shido, which Akechi isn’t quite in the mood to deal with. (Metaverse having some issues Shido trust me on this)

They also use each other as anchors for their sanity a bit. Still a very disorienting situation, and sometimes it's waking up and not being sure if they are alone in remembering and sending the other a 3 a.m. message, other times is just being able to sit at Jazz Jin and having a conversation they have not had before, since at some point hearing a friend and acquientence have the same conversation you have had once before for the first time can get…upsetting? or I suppose uncomfortable.

At some point, they would tell the thieves everything, it’s hard not to. And Akechi joins them very early on through Joker's recommendation and insistence, revealing the black mask bit stuff would come more mid-way through the year.

To not make this post longer I will leave it at this for now!

[itsjustlux]

figuring out who the hell Crowley is

Huge disclaimer: bible related things are extremely contradictory and i have not studied it formerly. I'm doing my best and this is all just for fun. Buckle in, this is a long one.

And yes, pun absolutely intended in the title. Now, I'll take you through my thought process step-by-step here.

Now, it's stated in s2 that Crowley must have been a throne, dominion, or higher in order to access the file. That's a great starting point. So, we're going to be looking at any angels that are a throne, dominion, cherubim, or seraphim.

I thought a good place to start would be to actually look at Crowley's rank as a demon. My thought process here was that Crowley's rank should sort of 'carry over' (at least in theory). We know he's not a duke because he's offered that as a reward in s2. But it's very difficult for me to believe he's just some random demon. I mean, he was *the* snake. Having him be the snake theoretically should place him as Lucifer, but he mentions 'hanging out with' Lucifer by name sometime in s1, so that's not right.

Here's where I hit a snag. Based on what we know of Crowley's fall (which is not a lot) he should either be a king (again, he mentions being around Lucifer in s1), a prince, or a marquise. Problem is, he can't be a prince or a king if he was offered the position of duke by Beelzebub. He's probably not a count on account (see what i did there?) of him being a demon before humanity really existed (Counts are, to my understanding, angels who Fell over being jealous of humanity).

So he's probably a marquise. Great! This would (again this is taking some massive hypothetical leaps) place him originally as a dominion. If he was a president, the equivalent would probably be a principality, which is too low. This should all work out then, right?

NOPE! It's very unlikely to me that Crowley would be a marquise especially after a) hanging out with Lucifer before Falling (which would actually place him as a king if they were close) and b) being all but outright stated to have been incredibly powerful (to the point where he basically runs a meeting between all the fancy archangels despite them all hating him).

So what gives? There's only one decent explanation I can think of.

Crowley was demoted after Falling.

Think about it for a second. Why does Shax (an actual marquise) keep asking him for help if they're the same rank and they could get in serious trouble for doing so? Why is Crowley of all people trusted to deliver the antichrist to the hospital? There were probably other options. Why do people keep asking if Crowley remembers them? It's because he was probably higher up than he is now. It's the only way any of it makes sense.

Adding onto all of this: Crowley disappears back to Hell for 35 years after doing one (1) good thing. Next time we see him, he has a cane and asks for Holy Water. Obviously the implication is...unpleasant, but I suspect this is not the first time its happened. Maybe it was worse this time for one reason or another (leading to him asking for the water), but there are thousands of years of Crowley being a good person unaccounted for. He's probably endured far more punishment than we know. The end of s1 was just the last straw.

So who is he? Well, you're probably not going to like my answer.

I don't think it matters.

I think his angel name might start with a J (Jegudiel if I had to guess right this very instant) but other than that I genuinely don't think his biblical counterpart is going to tell us all that much. I mean, does Aziraphale’s? In actuality the angel Aziraphale is fairly low down, but Neil has since clarified Aziraphale's ranking within the show. He's not the highest up, but he's certainly not no one.

And this is something I realized while making this post. If I am right and he was demoted (or at least punished by Hell more than once for being good) that has some pretty major implications for his character and why he's so insistent that he's not a good guy. 'Goodness' as a trait becomes dangerous to Crowley, something he can't identify with. He has to be evil or he'll risk punishment, even if he isn't by default. And when you're told you are (or at least should be) evil for so long, you must start to believe it at some point. And you can never open up to anyone because that emotional closeness puts you both at risk, especially if the other person is an angel. So you spend your engaging in self-sabotaging behaviors all alone because that's what you're supposed to do. And love, loving someone, well isn't admitting that just the antithesis of what you should be? Angles are characterized by their ability to love. A demon can't do that. That's what makes his little realization moment so incredible to me. It's a moment of realizing how much he cares for Aziraphale yes, but it's a look of something else too. May I propose: fear. It's a look of fear. I mean, Crowley can't even admit he might love his houseplants. How in the Something is he supposed to admit he loves an angel? He can't. Not when saving one (1) girl one (1) time had him dragged to Hell for 35 years and scared him so badly he asks for something he knows could end him.

[xxrainshadowsxx]

New Elite Chapter 5

I know this is late, but this chapter was a bitch to write. But, I've managed something I'm happy with, so I hope the wait will have been worth it.

As the day of your next scheduled meeting with Mr. Onceler loomed closer, your mind grew ever more scrambled. You’d carefully laid out the pros and cons to both accepting and declining his offer, yet this didn’t bring you the clarity you seeked. No, if anything, it only made you more confused.

On one hand, this would save you. He could keep you from poverty. There were no pretenses with him, no guessing as to what he wanted. He was honest. In the wolf's den of society, true honesty was a rare gift indeed. The truthfulness might be brutal at times, but it was still present.

Could you live with him? Most likely. As insufferable as you often found him to be, he wasn’t vile. You could have conversations with him, and you didn’t even have to worry about minding your tongue; you couldn’t do that with anyone else in the world other than Nellie. He was also young, which was a huge boon for you. Your fears of being forced to marry an old man would be alleviated. 

You could only find one real con; unfortunately, it was a severe problem. Your mother would never accept it. You could lay out all of the explanations Mr. Onceler had given you, as well as any of your own, and still she’d never be swayed. For as much as she often complained you were stubborn, she was even worse in that regard. Doing this behind her back might be so big a betrayal as to cause an estrangement.

You didn’t want that. As much as your mother could annoy you at times, as much as she attempted to dictate your life, she was still your mother. You still loved her. You recognized that she was the way she was because she didn’t know any different. You also didn’t want to leave her alone if this did lead to an estrangement. You would attempt to support her, no matter what, but would she even accept Mr. Onceler’s money? How deep did her prejudices run?

As such, your week was nothing short of agonizing. You felt as though your mind changed at least once an hour, and even sleeping brought no respite; you woke several times in the night, tormented with indecision.

Of course, you couldn’t keep this from Nellie, who was quick to notice and call you out on your new behavior patterns. At first, you attempted to keep it from her, insisting you were fine. But on the third day after Mr. Onceler’s proposition, after she threatened to tell your mother you hadn’t been sleeping, you broke down, weeping in her arms, and telling her everything.

“Nellie, I don’t know what to do,” you moan after your explanation. “He’s offering me more than I could ask for, and I never thought the decision would be mine. And now that it is, I find myself almost wishing it wasn’t. It’s too much, Nellie, what if I make the wrong choice? What if I say no and we never get another shot and we’re left on the street?” you wail.

Nellie sighs heavily. “Miss, you know the choice you want to make. We both know it. You’re just scared of actually making it, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re scared of declaring your decision out loud since you’ve never had that luxury before. But I think you might need to,” she says gently.

Once again, she’s able to articulate your thoughts much better than you can do it yourself. And yet, the fear is still there, causing your lip to tremble. Nellie reaches out and covers your hand with hers. “Talk to your mother,” she advises. “The relationship will be easier to mend if you take steps now instead of hiding this from her until she can’t stop it.” With that, Nellie takes her leave, leaving you thoroughly admonished.

If you said yes, how on earth were you ever going to tell her? And yet, how could you keep it from her? She would hardly fail to notice if gifts came for you, or if you left the house for seemingly unexplained hours to meet with him, and of course, she would be eagle-eyed to his preference for you at any event. If these steps weren’t taken and you announced an engagement without a formal courtship, that would be a scandal to all of New York. You didn’t know if it would be easier to let her know as soon as possible, in which case she would do everything in her power to end it, or wait until an eventual engagement did come, deal with the scandal, but give her less opportunity to ruin the one and only choice you’d ever been given.

Or you could simply avoid it altogether, reject him, and let your fortunes fall where they may. But even with the preference Mr. Hunte had clearly shown you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Mr. Onceler was giving you the best offer you were going to get.

Nellie clearly thought you were going to accept. That was obvious from her initial advice, and from her insinuations in the following days. Any chance the two of you were away from  your mother’s ears, she’d make some sort of mention that the two of you, together, needed to tell her sooner rather than later. The very thought of doing so made you sick to the stomach.

And before you were ready, before you could make a definitive decision, Saturday arrived, and he would be waiting for you at Central Park. You had to meet him. Whatever you ended up choosing, you felt you at least owed him an answer to his face at this point.

Fate decided to smile a little on you, at the very least. Saturday found your mother bedridden with one of her frequent headaches. While you normally felt sorry for her, today it was a blessing in disguise. It would make leaving the house so much easier. You didn’t like to think of what you were doing as sneaking about, but that wasn’t far from the truth.

You were more nervous than you’d ever been in your life, even more than prior to your debutante, as you had Nellie pin your hair into a hat. Your mind was still split in two, and no last minute certainty came to you. In the face of your choice, your future was murkier than ever.

“I suppose that’ll do, Nellie,” you sigh as she finishes, finding no more reason to stall. You couldn’t be late, you didn’t want him to think you weren’t coming at all, but you also wanted time to slow, even cease altogether. You were beginning to be a little too accustomed to being in two different frames of mind simultaneously.

“Good luck, miss,” Nellie hums. “You’ll make the right choice. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders; it shan’t let you down now.” You simply nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you head out the door, being mindful to stay quiet so as not to alert your mother. You keep your head lowered, hoping that the wide brim of the hat you’d insisted on would help give you a little bit of anonymity. If your mother was going to find out about this, it would be much better coming from you than gossiping with the other ladies of New York.

Far too quickly, you make it to the park, and your feet carry you along the path as though they have a mind of their own. And there he is, sitting on a bench, and you still aren’t sure of what you’re going to say.

He stands when he sees you approach, not exactly looking surprised, but definitely pleased. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything you blurt out, “Why me?”

You can tell that the question catches him off guard, and you didn’t know until you saw him that you needed it answered. You hasten to explain yourself. “There are dozens of girls in New York alone with good names, and I find it impossible to believe all of these families have squandered their fortunes. I can offer you nothing but a name, and with an antagonistic mother, I must be more trouble than I’m reasonably worth. So before I make my decision, I must know. Why are you so determined to win me when you could have anyone?”

He looks utterly taken aback, the first time you’ve seen him in such a state, but he recovers quickly. “I’ve met several upper-class women over the past year,” he says slowly. “When I wasn’t growing my business, I was at some event or another, attempting to bolster my reputation. And all of the single women were exactly the same: vain, vapid, and giggly. They couldn’t string two intelligent words together if their lives depended on it. I confess, it drove me mad.”

You frown slightly at him. “It sounds as if you are an utter tyrant towards women, sir,” you say, your tone turning a bit icy. “It’s a wonder you want to be married at all.”

“I’ve already explained my reasons for needing a marriage. I’m not going to repeat myself,” he huffs. “Now, back to the point at hand. As for why I chose you, you were the first socialite I’ve met who had brains along with a pretty face. I would like to be able to come home at the end of the day and be able to have an intelligent conversation with my wife. You may delight in insulting me, but I would take insults and wit over vapidity any day.”

“I still believe you’re being too harsh,” you sniff. “I’m hardly more intelligent than my peers. I’m just worse at controlling my tongue than they are.”

His lip curls into an amused smile. “Perhaps. But I’m not guaranteed their tongues would loosen upon marriage, or if I really would be marrying someone completely useless. With you, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. Now, I have given you my answer. What is yours?”

You can feel the word ‘no’ rise to the tip of your tongue. Now that it’s come down the moment you’ve been dreading, it suddenly seems very easy. You simply can’t face estrangement from the only family you’ve ever known to gamble your lot with who remains essentially a stranger.

“Yes.”

The word flies out of your mouth before you’re fully aware of what you’re saying. And when your mind finally does register the enormity of what you’ve just done, you almost take it back.

But you can’t. You can’t make the words come out of your mouth. And now that you’ve accepted his offer, you don’t want to take it back. And for the life of you, you cannot fathom why not.

Mr. Onceler, however, seems to either not notice or he’s choosing to ignore the chaos you’ve just caused inside yourself. The first real smile you’ve seen from him splits his face, which only further solidifies your decision, before he’s able to school his features back to neutrality. “Excellent,” he says simply, but his façade has been broken, even if just for a moment. He was genuinely happy.

Which makes you feel guilty when you know you’re about to dampen his enthusiasm. “We should probably decide quickly what we’re going to do about my mother,” you remind him. “She’s not going to like this. And we can hardly keep a formal courtship a secret; she’s bound to notice. Unless you were planning on keeping the entire courtship a secret until a possible engagement and cause a scandal, which I sincerely hope was not your plan.”

“For starters, I don’t plan on having a long courtship before getting engaged,” he says, the devilish smirk returning to his face. Insufferable as ever. “And while I don’t feel the need to have a formal announcement, I would like some of your attention at any events that might come up. As long as your mother is sufficiently distracted, I should be able to steal some of your time.”

“And how do you propose to keep her distracted?” you huff impatiently. “My mother still treats me like a child. She watches me close as a hawk.”

“Fortunately, I have a friend who’s more than willing to help,” he grins. “I’ve already learned that this friend is quite good at distracting your mother, as well as anyone else who happens to be in my way.”

You’re about to ask what on Earth he means, but the answer dawns on you before the question falls from your lips. Mrs. Ryan. Of course. Any time he wanted your attention at the last event, she had initiated a conversation with either your mother or Thomas Hunte, leaving Mr. Onceler free to steal you away. While not a foolproof plan, it was something, and Mrs. Ryan could talk for hours. As long as you weren’t overt, you might just get through your courtship without your mother suspecting a thing.

“I suppose that can work,” you acquiesce slowly. “However, if she does begin to suspect something, I would like to tell her, before she hears it through gossip. And we must say something if we do get engaged. If she hears that from someone before we go to her, it will cause an estrangement. I would like to avoid that at all costs.”

“Of course,” he agrees, though there’s still a twinkle in his eye that you’re not sure how to interpret. “I shall defer to your judgment in regards to your mother. I’m not trying to make an enemy of her, but I must say, I hold you and your opinion in much higher regard. You’ve somehow escaped the usual socialite curse, despite your upbringing. That gives me hope that your mother will eventually see sense.”

You wish you shared his optimism. You knew that when you said yes into entering this courtship, your mother would be furious when she inevitably found out. You can only hope and pray that your circumstances would prevent her from cutting you off altogether. You couldn’t bear losing her like that. Which reminded you of something…

“I should be getting home,” you murmur. “She doesn’t know I left. I don’t want to raise her suspicions so soon.”

“Allow me to escort you home?” he asks, offering his arm to you. You almost decline before remembering the deal you just made. Courtships were meant to lead to engagements. To end one could permanently damage your reputation. You didn’t want to give him any reason to end things, and thus, you had no reason to not accept his offer.

Therefore, after just a moment’s hesitation, you place your hand in the crook of his arm, allowing him to lead you out. You say very little, but the silence is comfortable rather than suffocating. Your thoughts were loud enough; you didn’t think you could handle a full conversation.

It seems like a very short time indeed before you reach the door of your home. You glance up at the windows, but your mother’s bedroom still has the curtains drawn tight. You let out a small, almost inaudible, sigh of relief.

You turn to Mr. Onceler, expecting a goodbye. “I hope I shall see you soon,” he murmurs, and you lift the back of your hand for him to kiss it.

He doesn’t. Instead, he bends and places a soft, swift kiss to your cheek. Before you can even process what on earth just happened, he puts his hat back on his head and walks down the street, leaving you beside yourself.

You lift your hand to the spot where his lips had touched, as if they had made a mark you needed to cover. You can feel your face burning crimson. A kiss on the back of the hand was one thing. A kiss on the cheek was something different entirely, and for him to be so brazen as to do it in public… oh, you could just melt from embarrassment right where you stood.

Oh, Lord, what were you going to do if someone saw that? There was no way it wouldn't get back to your mother, and such an ostentatious display would mean you would have to marry him sooner rather than later to protect any shred of your dignity, whether she liked it or not. No one else would risk another courtship, much less an engagement with you, if that went through the gossip mill.

And a small, nagging part of you wonders if that's exactly why he did it. For as much as he parroted that this was your choice, he was marking you as his. That choice, which you still weren't 100% certain of, was now permanent.

You're still standing, frozen as a statue, when Nellie opens the door a crack. “Miss! You must get inside,” she hisses. You blink, then manage to turn and slip in the house.

“Thank goodness,” Nellie breathes as she closes the door. “I've been checking every five minutes for you for the last half an hour. The mail came, and I'm not sure how much longer I could have stalled from bringing it to your mother.”

“Why didn't you?” you question as you take off your wrap. “I hardly think that delivering the mail would cause such a fuss.”

“You'll want to hear this first,” Nellie insists as she presses an envelope into your hand. Your curiosity piqued, you take the letter out and shake it open. Your eyes scan over its contents, though it takes a few read-throughs for the information to fully sink into your mind.

“Oh,” you say softly as you finally grasp the reality of the situation. The letter was an invitation for a ball for you and your mother to attend, your first major event since your debutante.

And the ball was being hosted by the Hunte's.

“What was your decision?” Nellie whispers. “Is this… going to be a problem?”

“Yes. It will,” you confirm. “I agreed to the courtship, but we both decided to forgo a formal announcement. If my mother finds out before we're fully engaged, she will try to stop it, no matter the harm it could do to my reputation. We had a plan in place to stay quiet at events, but if Thomas Hunte makes an offer to my mother, she will accept. And it would rock l all of society, trying to smoothe over the kind of scandal that would cause.”

“I told you, you should have already spoken with your mother,” Nellie chides. “How much damage could she do, realistically? You've already accepted his offer of courtship. Could she really change that when you've already given consent?”

You nod grimly. “If I stay in the courtship after she denounces it, or declares that it was made without her prior approval, I fear she would never speak to me again. I must wait until this reaches an engagement. She would not risk breaking something that big. That would ensure our destruction. And then, I'll just have to try and convince her to stay private with her displeasure.”

Nellie sighs heavily. “Well, you must do what you think is best. I just hope that this will not turn into a situation you regret. I still say you're playing with fire.”

“I know I am,” you murmur. “I realize how delicate the situation is. And I'm doing my best to manage it. But if I had done things the way she wanted, we might have been left off worse than we are now. How many other men would agree to a marriage after realizing I barely have a dowry. How many others would agree to support my mother for the rest of her life? He's giving me more than I knew to ask for, and keeping our financial worries discreet. I would've been a fool not to accept.” As you speak, you realize you're not just convincing Nellie, but yourself as well. And it is working. At this moment, you feel very assured in your decision.

Why you feel that way, however, you aren't entirely sure. By all rights, you should be feeling worse than ever. You knew you were going to be coming up against extremely challenging weeks, perhaps months; however long it took him to propose. You didn't like lying; you had never given much of an opportunity to practice.

And yet, there was some comfort given to you, this overwhelming feeling that you would come out alright on the other side. Despite your mother's best attempts to squash certain things out of you, you'd always been an advocate for women being afforded more rights than they were often given. Now that you'd met someone who was giving you even a small taste of freedom to make your own choices, you found yourself clinging to it. With Mr. Onceler, you might have a small chance of having a bit of a say in your own life. With that in mind, you turn back to Nellie.

“Nell, whatever you say, I've made my choice. I've never been allowed to do that before,” you attempt to explain. “My new courtship, as fragile as some of the conditions surrounding it are, is at least giving me choice. I must keep it. It is a blessing that I had not realized I desperately craved.”

Nellie sighs heavily again. “You know you always have my support,” she begins slowly. “So, I shall help you in whatever way I can. If this is so precious to you, I shouldn't like to see you lose it.” She chews her lip, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “It's just… do you love him?” she asks in a whisper.

It's your turn to let out a sigh of your own. “No,” you state blandly. “But I don't need love. I never imagined marrying for love. He's giving me security, which is the most important thing, and even a little bit of a voice. And though he vexes me from time to time, I believe I can live with him. It's more than I expected. I shall not be so selfish as to wish for love on top of everything.” You give Nellie a quick hug, something you'd never do if your mother were there, but you couldn't be bothered to care at present. The confidante Nellie was to you was priceless.

And whatever happened next, she would stand with you. It was a rich thing, to know you wouldn't be going into this alone. For it was indeed into the unknown that you were surely travelling.