#man city you beaut

[sunny-sainz]

holy shit a fourpeat 😭😭😭😭

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until then fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Could you please do a hc of any of the wrestlers you write for reacting to their so telling them they are Pregnant please?

AEW Wrestlers Pregnancy Headcanons

Aew wrestlers reacting to you telling them you are pregnant with there child

Wrestlers Mentioned: Billy Gunn, Cash Wheeler, CM Punk, David Finlay, MJF

Main Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Billy Gunn

When you told Billy you were pregnant he was shocked

He coudn't believe that he would be a father again when his two sons were in there late 20s-early 30s

He was scared but exited

Sure it was a suprise but what was he expecting

Sure he was older but having a younger girlfriend with high fertility could allow for something like this to happen

When he told his sons the news they didn't know what to think, they could have children themselves, how would you feel if your sibling had a 30 year age gap.

During your pregnancy Billy would spoil you, protecting you from the media, not wanting the negitive publicity cause stress to you and your baby

Billy promised he would be there for every ounce of your pregnancy and he was a saint

Cash Wheeler

When Cash found out you were pregnant he was beyond exited

He coudn't wait to share the news with his best friend Dax

Cash spent years looking up to the relationship with Dax and his wife, he always wanted to have children of his own

Being a first time dad Cash wanted to make sure everything was perfect, he read every book, he took an online course, he wanted to be the perfect dad

Cash would spoil your uborn child, he would bring home souvenears from every city he visited

He insisted on building everything himself, he built a beautful nursery

Cash would be the best father, he would love your child so much

The two of them would grow up to be best friends

CM PUNK

For some reason I feel like CM Punk would either be so supportive or would leave, no in between

CM Punk is the type to have a controversaly young girlfriend who he would eventualy leave for a younger girl (Don't get me wrong I love Punk I'm feeling this vibe rn)

The reason why CM Punk doesn't have kids at 45 isn't because of the multiple unstable relationships he has had. It's because he is scared of the idea of having kids, scared of the responsibility

When you told Punk you were pregnant he said nothing, he just held you as you cried.

You were scared and he was terrfied

He knew he would be a bad dad, he didn't want the responsibility of taking care of a human life

One day you woke up and he wasn't next to you

You looked around your shared appartment to see all of his things gone, the only think left was a note that read "I'm sorry" that was placed next to a waud of cash.

David Finlay

After being friends with bennfits with David Finlay you would fall pregnant

It was a shock, you had no idea how David would react

When you told David he was just as shocked as you were

It took him a while to even form words but when he did they were nothing but words of support

He wanted to support you, he was onboard with whatever you wanted to do, after all it was your body

He was exatic when he found out you wanted to keep your baby

He coudn't wait to be a dad

Some of the other members of Bullet Club teased him for it but he didn't care

David Finlay was made to be a father, he is such a daddy

He would protect you and your son, he would do ANYTHING to keep you safe, even ......murder

Maxwell Jacob Friedman

When you told Max you were pregnat he almost fainted

Sure he wanted kids but not now

The first thing he thought of was leaving, it was a coward move but he was scared

He booked a weekend trip claiming it was for work and left for a few days to compose himself

When he returned it was like he was a diffrent man

He became exited, he would buy matching burberry outfits for him and your future child

Max would marry you immediately and promise to be there through it all and he was

Max would spoil your child with expensive things and designer clothing

He would end up being a great father

An: I hope you enjoyed it!

[d1g1tal-d1ary]

Cry // Alex Turner

No summary today as I can‘t think of anything without spoilers ☠️ All I can say that it was inspired by the song "Cry" from cigarettes after sex

Warnings: smoking weed, age gap, female!reader, mentions of sex, no smut, maybe a bit of angst? idk

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Wish I was good, wish that I could give you my love now“ - Cry, cigarettes after sex

I can't tell when I fell for him. I can't find the exact moment it had been too late to turn back; to maybe even flee from him.

Maybe it happened the moment I first ever laid eyes on him. I had just moved to London and had decided I couldn't just pass day by day alone in such a big city - so I went to one of those Jazzclubs with one of my friends. The ones where the life artist was a weird man with a black hat and the women were all dressed in a bordeaux red dress, sipping on expensive cocktails the whole night. But I wasn't there to drink cocktails - I wasn't a big drinker, after all - I was there to hum quietly to the music and play some cards with that friend of mine.

"You cheated," I exclaimed with a light chuckle when I had to draw another card. That had been the fifth card in a row that I had to draw since I really didn't have any suitable card to lay down.

"I'm not, I swear!" she replied, her red curls falling so effortlessly perfect from her shoulder that I couldn't help but admire her beauty. Nessy - that was a nickname for Vanessa - was the first person I knew in London. Maybe because she lived right beside my little studio apartment or maybe because the universe knew I needed a friend like her. Who knows?

"Well, I need a cigarette after that unfair play of yours," I mumbled and shook my head. "You wanna join me?"

I had searched for the packs of cigarettes when she shook her head in response, making me raise from my seat and search for the exit. The exit was one of those doors to which followed one of those typical London staircases which led to the sidewalk. Luckily, the Jazzclub knew their customers and there was a little bench on which I sat down and lit my cigarette. The street wasn't empty; I remember. There were a lot of people walking by and that was the reason why he had to step closer to me to make me hear him. At least that's what he told me.

"Excuse me," the voice I learned to love in many, so many ways approached me. I turned my head to look at where the raspy, yet kind voice had it's origin and I knew by the way he was looking down at me; so kind, so soft and so, so, so curious that he was going to be trouble. "You've got a lighter?"

My eyes went down to his lips which were his instrument and the thing which he'd make sure that I knew just how much he wanted me. Without a word, but with a smile I began to search my pockets for that stupid, stupid lighter and took it out.

Or maybe it happened when he, instead of taking the lighter to light the cigarette on his own, he leaned down and waited for me to light the cigarette for him. The way he slightly bent over, making me smell his aftershave or the way he grinned down at me spoke more words than there are words in the bible.

"Thanks," he nonchalantly said. With another swift motion, he had taken the seat next to me and that made me wonder exactly how smooth a person could be. Or maybe I was wondering how pretty a person could be without even seeming to try. "Are you even allowed to smoke cigarettes yet?"

A frown crept it's way onto my face at the question and my gaze caught his as I fired back:" How old do I look to you?"

"Dunno," he shrugged but looked into the distance while taking a drag. "Wasn't expecting to see a young girl like you outside of a Jazzclub."

"I'm not young," I replied. "I'm 19, y'know."

"For god's sake," he chuckled, his gaze studying me. "My band is older than you, love."

"That's not my problem," I shrugged and threw the cigarette onto the pathway. "I guess you're really old, then."

"I'm not old," this time it was his turn to carry a frown on his beautiful face. "Are you from around here?"

I took a quick glance and met his gaze once again. He had already been looking at me the entire time. He had already been looking. At me.

"Uh, no, not exactly," I told him, stumbling across my words but I prayed he didn't notice it.

He raised an eyebrow and suddenly looked very boyish even though the few lines on his face said something different. But to me, those lines were what made him so much more beautiful. He questioned me again:" Then where are you from, sweetheart?"

Maybe I fell for him when he called me sweetheart and made me flustered and wobbly with only ten letters. Or maybe it was the way we had talked about an hour at the end of the night. I wonder what would've happened if I realized I was already head over heels for him when he kissed me a good night kiss on the cheek and promised a simple and so easy thing with a smoot "I'll call you".

I often question myself. Am I as funny as I think I am? Do people think I'm loud? But I never questioned myself when I was with him; because it was enough for me that he had really called a few days later. I noticed very early on that he was simply knittet and wasn't actually looking for love. Or anything that could lead to love.

"Then why did you call me back?" I asked him curiously while the rush hour had begun and tons of people were walking by the little table we sat at. "I mean, if you're not looking for anything. I'm not going to fuck you, that's for sure."

"For sure?" he questioned and raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his face. "Ah, I dunno. I'm not exactly eager to take you home with me, either. I don't know why I called you. I guess something about you caught my interst."

I missed the way his tiny phone kept buzzing during his little speech. I missed the way girls were turning around when they saw him and I missed the way my heart was beating faster than it'd ever done before. Because all I saw was him; all I wanted was him and I must've realized back then that I couldn't have turned back or ignored him.

But that wasn't the moment I fell for him. I never dared to question why me, out of all the people in the world. And maybe that was one of the reasons I fell for him in the end.

I would've guessed it was the first time he called me late at night. I had been sitting on the couch in my apartment when his message came through - enough to make my palms sweat.

>> U up? <<

I looked out the window, weighting the options I had to text him back, but I should've known I'd be wherever he wanted me to be in a matter of thirty minutes. And that's how I ended up in a dark studio; smoke filled the air and I watched him play soft tunes on his E-guitar.

And maybe that was the moment I fell for him. Just the two of us in a room where he had only ever invited the closest people to. Just the two of us sharing secrets in the late - or early hours, however you'd like to call it - hours of the day as no one else knew he was there with me.

I realized I could stare at him for hours when I had watched him play the same song over and over again. When I'd mesmerized every detail his face, his hands and the guitar itself and I was sure I could draw him exactly as he was in that very moment. Because I adored him. I adored him so much that I didn't bat an eye when he pulled out a joint from his pocket and sat down next to me.

"Have you ever smoked weed before?" he asked me. Even though I could see his muscles relaxing and the weed working its wonder on my beautiful, beautiful boy he still made sure not to let me out of his sight.

"Yea," I lied.

With a satisfied hum, he passed the burning wonder to me and watched me take a drag. If I had been honest, I would've said the taste was disgusting. If I would've been honest, I would've told him that I was in love with him.

But I wasn't. And that's why I never realized when I fell for him. He had caught my interest from the very first interaction and when he took me for the first time on that dirty couch in his studio all high and sloppy, I never questioned why I did all of that with him. And I always told myself I did all of that because youth is supposed to feel that way. Confusing, shattering and even heartbreaking.

But I never opened my eyes enough to see that I was doing all of that for him; taking an uber at two AM and letting him do whatever he was feeling like that night because I wanted him to love me. Because I loved him. With every inch of my body, every vein in my body pumping blood and every pump of my heart - I loved him.

But my mistake was that I always wondered when I fell for him and not if he ever fell for me.

[seedlessmuffins]

aren’t you a new football fan? celebrating like you’ve won the fucking world cup after one arsenal win lmfao. i’m not a city fan but don’t get used to assna wins when you lot lose the league to city again. embarrassing behaviour

hi anon! let's clear the air, yeah?

first of all, yes! i am a new football fan, i just started watching seriously after the world cup, and i am also a new arsenal fan. however, i still care very deeply about the sport and my team's successes in said sport! that is what being a fan is all about <3 just because i didn't grow up watching european football doesn't mean that i have less of a right to enjoy it then you do! also, it is the most popular sport in the world with billions and billions of fans globally, and out of the entire sport, the english premier league is the most viewed league in the world. of football, but also of any sport. so you can't really gatekeep it, sorry!

second of all, i'm aware that this was only a regular matchweek, not the world cup. but there are two important caveats to that those being:

who we were playing

and

the fashion in which we won

for who we were playing, it's not a secret that outside of the spurs and the north london derby, manchester united is one of arsenal's biggest rivals and has been since the start of the premier league when they were competing against each other for titles and trophies. i won't go into premier league history with you, i am just a new fan who knows nothing after all, but you should know that beating a rival is always exciting, especially when you are competing against them for points and jockeying for the title to compete with man city. every win is important, and winning is better when it is against a historical rival team.

for the fashion in which we won, it was a close game until the very end. rashford scoring in the 27th minute, and odegaard answering back 35 seconds later. the teams were trading chances and possession, there were good chances and var calls that went either way, it was a close game where the teams were fighting hard. and then, in the 95th minute, rice scores an absolute screamer and it was truly scenes at the emirates. gabi jesus caps it off with a 101st minute beaut, and arsenal win the game. winning in the last 3 minutes of regulation time, with a bonus goal over 100 minutes into the game is exciting! it was thrilling to watch, and seeing a team that i support win that emphatically in that dramatic of a manner was so much fun. its an exciting thing to watch and its ok to be excited when there's a win like that!

it also isn't just one win, this has just been our best win this season (imo)! we have only played four games, and we have won three and drawn one. so that is three wins actually, i am just celebrating this one the most, again, because of who we won against, how we won, and how we played to secure the win.

if the bit about "not getting used to arsenal wins" (i don't think you can call them assna when they came second in the premier league last season, and this season they haven't lost and they're in the champions league, right? but what do i know i'm just a new footy fan <3) is about the post where i said i forgot how good it feels to watch my team win, i don't think you understand what i have been through in the past 12 years as a sports fan. my hockey team has been on a losing streak almost this whole time, and we have been one of the flops of the league for awhile. just take a look at these gorgeous statistics from my favourite hockey team (that i have been a fan of since i was two, thank you very much)

do you want to talk losing? i know about losing. i know about losing for a long time, in an embarrassing manner. if you want more examples from football, from january to april 2023 i watched psg play every week. that was embarrassing losing in football for real. i might be new to football but i'm not new to sports, and i have to be perfectly honest: coming second is not losing. and what happened today wasn't a loss at all! in fact, it was the opposite! it was a win!

idk about losing the league to manchester city, it seems to me that arsenal has a good system with talented players that can ball out. we will see what comes, as the season is long and there are many other competitions for arsenal to compete in, but i have faith in the gunners and i believe that they can win! (and ill let you in on a little secret: that's what being a fan is all about <3)

i'm not sure if the embarrassing behaviour at the end is for my behaviour or arsenal's behaviour, however i am not being embarrassing, i am just being a fan, and arsenal certainly wasn't embarrassing with their performance today. idk what you're seeing, but bestie i think you might be blind <3

thanks for coming into my inbox anon, hope this cleared everything up for you! next time, let's let people enjoy things yeah? i try my best to be positive on here, i'm hardly ever a hater and i like to spread joy. why don't you take some of that energy alright? alright. hope you enjoyed your stay <3

ps: arsenal definitely are winning the world cup :)

[dreamerswriter]

The Man of the Hour! + Preparing to Depart

Here we go!

The man of the hour is here! And he's ready to fight a dragon prince! Let's do this! Also, he's not sleeping, those bags under his eyes state it. Staring at a burning fire is going to make your retinas hurt.

Side note, THIS IS PRETTY! Fleur city is so beautiful! Beaut!

This is just a Catholic School. No, I am not even kidding. This is what Catholic schools do. Also, are you trying to get rid of your students?

How are you going to survive? But he still continues to be the funniest person here.

He's going to be a king. He needs to learn about other cultures. Sebek, he needs this!

At least Yuu has some sense. This is going to be fun! I promise! I would love to go to a ball and have food and dance! You guys are lucky!

Yep, those two are making money when this happens. You know what, I respect the hustle! Go for it!

YOU HAVE ONE JOB! THE MINIMUM! WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!

Ah, so you want to make money as well.

Trey that is evil. Why would you suggest that?

Are you leaving this to probability? I can feel my college degree burning inside me.

He definitely is. There is no way you would do this with just a random probability drawing.

I know we know, but this is still hilarious and dangerous. Why would you leave it to chance? Speaking of chance, Rollo and Malleus are either lucky or unlucky that the drawing is in their favor. The odds are not in either favor! That is the luckiest nonsense I've ever seen!

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Baby Boomer Classics: Mellow Seventies 1986 Country-Rock / Southern Rock / Folk / Country / Soft Rock

Something I've always been somewhat intrigued by when thinking about the broad history of American music is just how popular and integral both country and folk were throughout the 60s and 70s, but then by the end of the 80s, the overall cultural cache for both of them just seemed to have waned precipitously. Like, folk and country both used to swing pretty big sticks within the overall pop music landscape, garnering plenty of memorable top-ten Billboard hits apiece, and many acts were signed to and marketed by major labels too. But something then happened in the 80s where they just stopped getting that same level of attention on a mainstream level, and I'm not really sure what exactly caused it, because it's not like they were ever fad genres to begin with. So if anyone knows or has any concrete theories about all this, I'd love to hear.

Anyhoo, this set of Mellow Seventies hits from the JCI label's Baby Boomer Classics series takes us back to a distinct time when all this pleasurably softer and heartfelt stuff was really unprecedentedly popping. It's mostly a bunch of huge country, folk, southern, and soft rock hits, like The Allman Brothers' "Ramblin' Man," Linda Ronstadt's "You're No Good," and Norman Greenbaum's classic psychedelic gospel-rocker, "Spirit in the Sky," but room is also made for Sly & the Family Stone's "Family Affair"—a landmark funk and psychedelic soul hit that was sonically unlike pretty much anything else at the time of its 1971 release—and Johnny Nash's reggae-soul beaut', "I Can See Clearly Now" as well.

So everything that's on this comp was definitely a big hit in its day, but one that *might* be lesser known to a lot of people is Danny O'Keefe's "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues." This catchy country-folk single managed to peak at #9 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the fall of 1972, and it sold a million copies as well, but it also turned out to be the *only* Hot 100 hit of O'Keefe's entire career. A lot of times, one-hit wonder acts are known for their lone monster hit—duh—but then they also have singles that toil much less successfully towards the bottom of the charts too, and it's up for debate whether or not that actually qualifies them as a one-hit wonder in the first place, because the charts dictate that they literally had more than one hit, even if the other hits were a lot more obscure than the ubiquitous big one. But in the case of O'Keefe, there's no room for argument Stateside; he literally only had one, solitary hit here. And it's a pretty damn terrific one at that, with soft country-twangin' guitar plucks and very lovely flute that, when deployed together like they are on this reflectively melancholic softie, are guaranteed to speak to your soul 😌.

Pretty great slate of laid-back 70s hits overall, but feels like a basic surface-scratcher in the grand scheme of things. A top-ten Billboard hit being arguably the most obscure song on your album seems to indicate that you didn't really put that much effort or thought into compiling it. It's still good music though at the end of the day, and essential listening for anyone who's unfamiliar with this type of stuff, especially.

Highlights:

The Allman Brothers Band - "Ramblin' Man" Danny O'Keefe - "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" America - "Sister Golden Hair" Sly & the Family Stone - "Family Affair" Johnny Nash - "I Can See Clearly Now" Jim Croce - "Time in a Bottle" Linda Ronstadt - "You're No Good" Norman Greenbaum - "Spirit in the Sky" Arlo Guthrie - "City of New Orleans"

[theanimeview]

Muffy: Will You Give Her A Wonderful Life?

Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/harvest-moon-a-wonderful-life--568227677956353515/

By: Casea Smith | @coffeewithkrow

On one fateful Christmas day, I got Harvest Moon: A Wonderful Life. This was not only the first farming simulator I ever played but also the first game I had ever played that allowed (or, in this case, required) you to marry someone. It was revolutionary to me as a child, and it opened my mind to a new way of thinking about what video games can be in general. 

As you can imagine, the announcement of A Wonderful Life’s remake (now under the franchise Story of Seasons) left me bouncing with joy and anticipation. With every teaser, the wait until summer simply feels longer and longer. While I wait, what better way to kill time than to write about my usual choice to marry: Muffy. 

For clarification, in the Story of Seasons version, her name is “Molly.” Molly is the same character as Muffy, but, for this post, I will be referring to her by the original name of “Muffy.”

Muffy is an interesting character. She is easy to judge with one’s first viewing with internalized misogyny. She works at the bar and comes off as very bubbly and flirtatious. Muffy certainly stands out against the countryside background with her bold make-up and red dress, but there is more than meets the eye to this young lady. 

In the subsequent game, Another Wonderful Life, you play as a female instead, allowing you to see things from a different perspective as same-sex marriages in video games weren’t an option in those days. So instead of always marrying her, I had to sit on the sidelines and experience the tragic progression of Muffy’s love life.You see, as the oldest of the bachelorettes, all she wants is to settle down and have a family with the love of her life. The problem is, there isn’t anybody in the village who has caught her eye, nor do they seem interested in her that way either, so she dates boys from the city.

Well, every year, you can catch Muffy standing on the bridge watching the sunset. At first, she’s there to re-examine her heartbreak over men not taking her seriously, and not wanting to settle down. Time passes again, and she tells of a man that cheated on her, and how he chose the other woman over her. Each passing year becomes bleaker as she ages. Meanwhile, you have already chosen your mate and are watching your son grow up while Muffy is found at the bridge mourning over what could have been year after year.

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62DNLYrtj2M&ab_channel=ch0colatemilk

As a child, I felt helpless and completely willing to marry Muffy if only the game would allow it. So, whenever I re-play A Wonderful Life, I tend to feel a twinge of guilt when I decide to marry someone other than Muffy.As I try to figure out which candidate I will choose, I can’t help but wonder if it is even healthy to decide on Muffy out of guilt since I know she won’t marry anyone else or move on in life if I don’t choose her–it’s quite reminiscent of Penny from Stardew Valley in a sense. 

Yes, their situations are vastly different considering Penny is living in a trailer with her alcoholic mother, but lots of people decide to marry Penny because they feel the need to rescue her. If more people knew of the progressing destruction of Muffy’s dreams, would that motivate more people to choose her out of the different candidates? 

It might not be the healthiest reason to pick someone, but I don’t think it’s an invalid reason. Not to mention, the focus on the guilt can make it seem like you’re ONLY choosing them because of their trauma, when in reality you might see them as more than that. 

However, after a long reflection, I believe that there are other reasons to like Muffy and marry her beyond pity or guilt. She is very sweet and is the only one to approach you first. A good-looking new farmer is in the valley, and she is not going to pass up the opportunity to make something happen. She also blossoms into the motherly role quite beautifully; it’s quite endearing to see her enjoying life on the farm with her husband and son. However, comparing Muffy with the other bachelorettes, I can’t help but think that she really is the best choice!

Celia is an obvious choice as she is also a farmer, and the child she bears will more naturally have an interest in running the farm, but, as a kid, I was disappointed by the fact that she doesn’t seem to farm anymore after you marry her (at least not that I could tell). It’s as though a major passion of hers is gone. 

When it comes to the quiet and cold Nami, I always felt like I was tying her down and keeping her from being the traveling spirit she is, particularly when I know that she would be off traveling had she not married me in that playthrough. She’ll even express such feelings from time to time, and it would break my heart as her in-game spouse.

But now, with the Story of Seasons's remake, there are many candidates to choose from, as gender is no longer an obstacle when it comes to marrying someone. Though, I hope that those of you reading this and planning to play the game will give Muffy a chance if you haven’t already. If not, I’d love to hear your takeaways from her character, too!

[mariachastain]

Will things go my way today?

Sometimes, when my mom calls me up on the weekends, she asks a question.

"Are you watching soccer?"

The answer is usually yes, or an "I was watching soccer."

She often follows it up with, "Did things go your way?"

Well, yesterday, some things went my way and other things did not.

First off, Man United losing to Fulham in stoppage time was glorious. So that DEFINITELY went my way. I didn't watch the entire match (as I had to live my life and go to the grocery store), but I came home to turn it on to see that Fulham was up 1-0. Alas, Man United then scored through Slabhead Maguire. I didn't think Fulham would necessarily score again, as they were playing at Old Trafford, but as Man United have proved time and again this season, they are quite rubbish, and Iwobi scored that late late winner. It was a beaut!

Then I tuned in for Manchester City vs. Bournemouth match and didn't expect much of Bournemouth, but they did a good job in the second half and you could tell they were really scaring the bejesus out of ole Pep and Man City are lucky that they didn't end up with yet another draw.

Then I tuned into Arsenal, but I gave up on it because you could tell that they had the momentum and that poor Newcastle are not the time that they were last year. I gladly turned it off to read my book "The Wager" (which I highly recommend if you haven't read it).

Today, however, is the creme de la creme of matches. Chelsea vs. Liverpool at Wembley to decide the Carabao Cup. While deep down, I am pretty sure that Liverpool will win (maybe even want them to win as Jurgen Klopp embarks on his long, drawn out swan song), I am just hoping for a good match. Please give me extra time and PKs. If that happens, then today will have gone my way...unlike everything yesterday.

[rainsmediaradio]

Chocolate City - Cypher Lyrics feat Blaqbonez, A-Q, Loose Kaynon, Ice Prince, Jesse Jagz, MI Abaga

Today in the history of music, the most dominating pure Hip-Hop record label in Nigeria and Africa, Chocolate City, popularly called Choc City by fans celebrated its golden jubilee by doing what they know how to do best. In a single titled Chocolate City - City Cypher Lyrics we see all the rap gods of Chocolate City, Blaqbonez, A-Q, Loose Kaynon, Ice Prince, Jesse Jagz, and MI Abaga rise to the mic, dropping bars on bars and leaving fans with nothing but a scream of wow! Take it or leave it, rap is not dead Hip-Hop is alive!

Chocolate City Chairman, staff and the amazing rappers.

Chocolate City - Cypher Lyrics feat Blaqbonez, A-Q, Loose Kaynon, Ice Prince, Jesse Jagz, MI Abaga

Chocolate City - Cypher Lyrics feat Blaqbonez, A-Q, Loose Kaynon, Ice Prince, Jesse Jagz, MI Abaga Chocolate City - Cypher Lyrics Chocolate City - Cypher Lyrics : Blaqbonez yeah yeah riding for my door from a start this basic principal rest of y'all pitiful Hush Puppy I'm interpol talking to you Twitter trolls I'm not trying to be condescending my I'm just speaking from the Pinnacle every second is billable a ship is Unsinkable 2023 whip the evidence is clear but yours is inadmissible I'm a 6ft skinny boy I'm and ... can get physical better than black that's fictional who lied to you that's kind of typical of yes man's delusional me and stupid not mixable all my niggas got something upstairs another Bungalow every single move is another play for the envelope never settle for less I'm not trying to stay afloat I'm really trying to buy a boat Jeff Bezos in 6 months that's a slender hope if you're not feeling me that you take away your right to vote the disrespect man it's forgivable Jesus said turn your left cheek y know it's biblical that's what I told your girl last week when we was frictional I don't do back and forth with no chick unless Arena though I could lose every point but you know I'm going serve the charm is irresistible couple bags no fundable and make a must shine not tribalistic it's traditional social engineering got me feeling like I'm back in school Mr Gbadebo look at me I'm unapproachable I this rapper for like 5 years don't get no ideas go conversation I will be there that's what you guys fear y'all niggas want hits It's really go to a Miss I'm way to versatile quietly making hella moves they gave me an in universe that's hella rude my only celebrity crush is Mega good I'm kidding there's a ton of beauts, ton of bad bitches sh bad niggas A-Q Hip hop is 50 that's golden I'm still here it's Gods engineering I got two here three coming Rose from the concrete in September I shed a few tears I've been blessed forever before I grew beards they too scared back in C City I was the bag boy for a few years now this City Boys is at the helm of affairs it's a new year running hip up fuck your rap link I'm on some soft thighs she's nasty, nastier than Nasty C's top five I see the greatest is debated if it's not I, what a surprise I'm someway on the beach watching the sunrise tell me what's the upside when publishing is sinking us diamond in the rough but sharp enough to get your princess cut study my prophecies, my lyrics are now my doctrines young soldier of the Lord, the YSL is on my stock jeans truly humble under God this young thug is going to judge him turn the Gunna in your crew to a gunner like the sports team shots ring, hands all over you like a touch screen from dust you came from dust back to the dust bin you rappers are disgusting tell me something more compelling than walking up to me hands open like Jude Bellingham don't let them gas you I'm Noble but I'm unstable out of my elements still shaking up periodic tables created the system you're just files in the folder and when I feel like folding I hold my composure that's pep talk Lexus came with police escorts standing on business if it's business homey let's talk anything else don't get a response I just press pause why the fuck am I here I got meetings with investors I'm ghost Loose Kaynon look red s like Bigfoot here's another one stand cool like an island so I don't bother none do business by the cold I treat my niggas like my mother son they want to get the team back together go on another run now I'm living different a babysit in the whip an accountant on the team he's babysit in the splits you can catch me on the beach chair lazy sip in the sprits but don't boost me the call I'm crazy spitting this shit so here goes you bunch of weirdos look the part Bo you some scarecrow cosplaying a giant this niggas wear stos I don't do verbals just pay attention homie There's levels I stay behind the scene pulling the strings I'm shapedo you rocking shit in the same spot but you got motion I laugh it off cuz I know better Yeah you need promotion you ain't fooling nobody plus you ain't pulling no bodies All that killing niggas in your verse we ain't see no bodies Every day I leave my enemies pipe dream i bet Your favorite rapper sell his soul so just to switch places I'm still spitting pen flooded with ring my pockets favors pounds over naira Is a bit racist so what we have here A bunch of wannabe;s I the Rolly on my re so you want one of these don't you jump out the window Wony you I know my smile provoke you go ahead now stop on Faking I take them shots why don't you My OG told me you ain't easy to like so they pretend to be your friend Cuz you ain't easy to fight it's all right see heavy is the head and my neck hurts You focus on the best first I'm trying to flip my network aiming higher than messages P then to man built like me rarer than Le is ours It's lyrical genius how pressure this vows turn them to Diamonds Yeah you welcome the pleasure is ours Ice Prince Ah when I first test the mic I was in jss1 mind me records from Heavy D and krs1 Doctors call me a rapper from the day I was born I came Mo my mama wom talking like j electron I mean cold blood with a mean face had this rappers ate like a girl with a thin waist Swimming with the shars don't know how to sedem taste me I grew up in the city where you know the machines blaz cock you with it niggas your back I ain't stopping it when I caught the trigger I'm on my Fire and Ice they call me Godzilla I do all my albums with no fucking fillers I just tell the truth Nothing made up no concealers so tell them that we back in the booth when CHOC boys commute You know the beat is in soup i mean I got to keep props to choc City since 2007 the family stuck with me Jesse Jagz no need to introduce myself First I choose myself then I used myself two decades ago I reproduced myself choc city was the keys but I produced myself hip hop is the build and I am the foundations Communications caught off online around stations choc boys fully prepared the crown station Jesus has returned Skies open the ground shaking I levitate on ink niggas think I'm a ghost Stay a mile from the shore we let them swim for the boat Now this is a toast to the king of the coast now niggas fuck the script we never sing to the notes Big up truck city IC niggas that's where the science be extraordinary leader a legend in my Society Finally my niggas is pumped fuck sobriety looking for something higher see something that will inspire me Blessing to the nation the patience the dedication all my people is here for celebration I show you the beginning and end the Revelation these are the 48 Laws to preparation Oh my niggas we bought the Federation the lyricism will inform a generation 20 something years in the game that shit ain't new to me I walk through the game with that diplomatic Community MI Abaga rest in peace mohbad welcome back all ours back all ours i squat for road like make i do the shit for the streets reported live and correct for be like white journalist i be the highest night you know how high dollar is pound for p still the mj 100% check the roots of this shit i'm the kunta kente check the genesis i'm adam i'm the block i'm the new dekembe root flow i spit some rudimentary i spit that shit that hit you hard and get you to comprende i seen it all ain't nothing new to sensei the hip hop superintending eventually transcended to a god a lot of done it really well but ain't no niggas been this hard lyric ma grande like maryland and odumodu men dey you too weak for this walk you be like 10 days my spirit pure getting better i'm mature like some whiskey in a glen case wo and this is how it sounds when you the template when god gave me this flow he said forget about the return date nowadays i'm working so jtown can reach miami and taraba reach gidali we go get that gradu that's on god's name i know i wear ghost but i'm into technic niggas camp there and show dem i'm doing large things yep things i never even post you say seeing is believing you you dey see the holy ghost the hater is negligable to see through hip-hop music is the voice of got to lead the people many evil sons of achan are hating and they follow shatan go check in joshua chapter 7 i'm acting brand new might time to mavin but ch c ins still the haven 20 years later and it's like he did something amazing this for jeremiah gang who laid the paving for jimmy jags ice bal price noah for dice milly ck lamber ruby vicky koka for young john black bonez dj k street billy and candy bleaks ruby loose critical classic major asia aniq and this for everybody rapping i pray you all be topping and shots with the tracks you dro and popping like you sh poppy and any rapper chopping come to the hip hop event we got you we believe you die we know they doubt you we sef dey plug artist to we did share palliative over here and the vibe is so native over here everybody is a king making loot how the six best rappers from the same fucking crew what you niggas going to do my nigga this a legacy this was all built on rap let's not forget to say hip hop we thank you for being a foundation from chocolate city to all of our fans you are amazing thank you yo so abi chi made the call he know we don't want to do ciphers no more but we had to do this one for history 50 years of hip-hop 20 years of chocolate city the indomitable indestructible force we love you to our fans we love you to our haters Read more about Chocolate City on Wikipedia Read the full article

[kudosmyhero]

The Amazing Spider-Man (vol. 1) #50: Spider-Man No More

Read Date: January 01, 2023 Cover Date: July 1967 ● Writer: Stan Lee ● Penciler: John Romita ● Inker: Mickey Demeo ● Colorist: {uncredited} ● Letterer: Sam Rosen ● Editor: Stan Lee ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● ok, number 50, first comic read of the new year. here we go! ● fight with some run-of-the-mill crooks ● Spidey calls a guy "tiger." Is M.J. rubbing off on him? ● (pg 4) ok! Back to a more natural--comic-book natural, anyway--skin tone for a black guy. Don't mess it up again later! ● Aunt May's sick again. I mean, she is 127 years old. She should be Great-Aunt May, really. ● (pg 7) poor Pete. I do like that they have him questioning his own motives: to fight crime, or for thrills and glory? (it can be both!) ● (pg 8) now there's an iconic splash page ● (pg 9) oh boy. a kid found the costume in the trash and took it straight to JJJ ● Ha! Kid, you should've negotiated the price first ● (pg 10) -gasp- KINGPIN!! Kingpin at last! ● I need to start sharing favorite panels again, because look at this beaut!

● according to this issue's info page, this is Wilson Fisk's first appearance. I didn't know that it was Spidey's stepping down from crime fighting that prompted Kingpin to come out of the woodwork! ● uh-oh, Peter's about to see his costume hanging as a trophy in JJJ's office. This probably won't go well…

● (pg 12) the artist did an excellent job catching a facial expression I would expect. It's all in the eyes. ● ha, but Peter surprises him in return by telling him not to expect any more pictures. "No! You can't quit! You were the best photog I ever had!" / "Then why didn't you ever pay me top rates?" / "I didn't want to spoil you!" 💀 ● crime increasing in the city without Spidey ● (pg 13) Kingpin's hands are massive ● Gwen has a letter from Flash. He's not yet shipped out to Vietnam, so I assume this letter is from boot camp. ● (pg 15) robbery of welfare money gets Peter going due to his worry about the recipients. He starts getting undressed… then remembers he doesn't have his costume anymore ● Peter saves a watchman from a rooftop attack while in his street clothes

● (pg 18) Nice moment of resolution on the docks by our Peter Parker ● ohhhh Foswell is wanting back in crime! ● he's trying to oust Kingpin. This isn't gonna go well, buddy… ● a disintegrator beam? I wonder how long that sticks around. (heheh, "sticks" … because it's hidden in Wilson Fisk's cane)

● (pg 19) so many great panels in this issue! I chose a good one to start taking screenshots again ● sitting in JJJ's chair with his feet on his desk when Jameson comes into the office for the day. Baller move, Spidey! ● 👏👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: As usual, Spider-Man breaks up an attempted robbery of a payroll truck. However, one of the bystanders is frightened by the violence and asks Spider-Man to leave. Peter is astonished at how well Mr. Jameson's attacks on him have worked. Shortly afterward, Peter arrives to his and Harry's apartment only to be told by Harry that his Aunt May is ill. Rushing to Aunt May's house, he is told by Anna Watson that May was calling for Peter, but she has been sedated now and is sleeping peacefully. Peter chastises himself for not paying enough attention to his Aunt since moving in with Harry. Even though he has an important test the next day, Peter doesn't study, figuring he wouldn't be able to concentrate. The next day, after the test, Peter's Professor expresses concern over the decline in Peter's grades. With all of this weighing on him, Peter begins to hate the very name of Spider-Man! Adding fuel to the fire is J. Jonah Jameson going into another anti-Spider-Man rant on TV. Walking at night, dwelling on all his problems, Peter takes his Spider-Man outfit and throws it in the garbage, deciding to end his crime-fighting career. The next morning, an excited child brings the outfit to Jameson's office, much to Jameson's delight. Public reaction to the story is mixed… although Jameson is delighted that he sold every copy of the paper with the story in it. Meanwhile, at the office of a mysterious figure known only as "Kingpin", the self-proclaimed Lord of the Underworld tells his men to prepare. Now that Spider-Man is out of the way, there will be no one to oppose him. In the upcoming days, the organized crime in New York City starts an uprise and through his contacts, Frederick Foswell learns about the Kingpin's plans. In the midst of this situation, Peter arrives at the Daily Bugle and tells Jameson he is quitting, so he can devote more time to his College studies. In the following days, the crime rate increases dramatically, but Peter could care less. Ironically, that same day, Harry shares his concerns about the crime in the city, while Aunt May has recovered and is busy along with Anna. Furthermore, Peter is unable to spend some time with either Mary Jane or Gwen Stacy, making his whole decision of being free to share his time with friends a bit pointless. Finally, driving his motorcycle home, Peter hears a cry for help and seeing no one else around, decides to help out. The night watchman Peter saves reminds him of his Uncle Ben, and Peter remembers how he became Spider-Man, and how his Uncle Ben died because Peter failed to stop a criminal. Peter realizes he must once again become Spider-Man to prevent other tragedies due to his inaction. Meanwhile, Foswell approaches the Kingpin and tells him he's taking over… and offers the Kingpin the job of Lieutenant in his army, but Kingpin has Foswell tied up. At that same moment, Peter breaks into Jameson's office, puts on his Spider-Man outfit, and waits for Jameson to come in so he can deliver the good news about Spider-Man being back to Jameson in person. (https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Amazing_Spider-Man_Vol_1_50)

Fan Art: Kingpin by naratani

Accompanying Podcast: ● Swinging Through Spider-Man - episode 50

● Amazing Spider-Man Classics - episode 38

● Let's Read Spider-Man - episode 31

[thebeauregardbros]

What is the character’s go-to drink order?

(this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/restaurant) [source]

Alus was loathe to sit down at the bar table, something he only showed by a rigidity in his back and what was an unusually seen blankness of an expression as he awkwardly looked down at the wooden seat, eyes boring holes into the unknown substances from recent customers leftover on the seat's surface. His party members crashed down on every seat too quickly for him to try and find a cleaner alternative - he sighed, and pulled out a white lace handkerchief to set down and protect his pants before slowly and regretfully seating himself. He knew he'd have to take special care in washing it thoroughly after this. He didn't want to be here - he only recently became even a little bit comfortable venturing into Arc's bar during business off-hours, this was far more a popular hub and far more dirty - most likely because Alus didn't have any input on the cleaning staff and frequency like he did at home. The smell of sweet alcohols weren't too unlike cheap perfume, the smell of wine reminded him of expired fruit, and grain alcohols smelled like bitter dirt. Alcohol was something he never understood. But he did like the people. Bars were where most people in the city-states gathered. If nothing else, it was a place of people-watching -- he just wish he was doing it from outside, during the morning when breakfast was still being served - as he often stopped to do on his morning walks. He loved to see new adventurers excited to go on a new journey after receiving advice from the adventuring guild bars.

But this company? Well...

"Aye! Ey! Oi-oi! Canne get a drink 'ere? Miss! Ol' Masa' Kestle 'ere's buyin!" Jak's voice was loud and excitable, something Alus usually found to be a wonderful trait in people, but it worried him considerably that the hyur already sounded drunk - it saddened him to think Jak may only be this way due to lack of censor. "'Old', you say? Perhaps you'd like to buy it yourself." Mr. Roet's voice was calm and collected, and he somehow exuded an energy that felt far more oppressive and intimidating in the crowd in comparison to Jak's masculine and rowdy swagger despite his small Lalafellan size. The much taller man crumpled immediately in response, curling his shoulders inward as he apologized; "Young, sir! Kestle th' youuthfull, 'n' a true beaut, sir!" he desperately blew a kiss at his employer who nodded stoically, his small hands batting away any air that flew his way out of Jak's lips, his expression scrunching up in reaction of the smell. "Nay, the bill shan't be an issue - we art here on business," Alus interjected, his voice low and dignified, a small passion for properness behind his words. The mission: to meet a client offering to buy the mercenary services of the team. "Ah, so you're paying." Kestle responded, grabbing at the chance to save a gil. "Nay! 'Tis improper to drink on our duty!" Alus barked. Kestle shook his head, his slow steady pace seemingly completely out of sync from Jak's constant swaying body movement of which almost sent him falling off his chair while whipping his head around to oogle at a passing lady, completely uninterested in the conversation as soon as he realized the bill wasn't on his head. "Noble, little Knight," Kestle's tone dripped with sarcasm and distaste at Alus' background. "But a drink will help loosen the atmosphere, which loosens purse strings, therefore put more coin into our pockets at the end of it. Trust me." Roet's words had a distinct finality to them that the brothers dread to ever witness, an intense gaze piercing Alus during those last two words in a way that he felt powerless to look away from. Seeing Alus be rendered speechless, the merchant prince breaks eye contact, immediately relaxing his entire posture as if nothing just happened. "Bartender. Wine." he snaps his fingers. A waiter practically appears out of thin air. "And what will you be having?" they ask. "Ah!! Beer! Keep 'em comin'!!" Jak shouts in excited glee, ready as ever to ask. Alus realizes he hasn't been breathing as he watched the situation so suddenly completely escape him, and exhales. "Ah... What.. No. Grenadine soda, please." he requests. Jak bursts into an obnoxiously big hearty brawling laugh that can be heard from outside. "Fuckkin' dirty, at least!" Jak yells. "No fun." Kestle smirks.

Arc enters the bar, and Alus excitedly waves to him, disregarding the criticism. "Thou art late!" he reprimands impatiently, despite the kindness of jumping up from his seat to gather an extra chair for Arc. "What are you having?" Kestle beckons in question. "Absinthe Frappe" Arc states, readying himself to sit down on a chair Alus had pulled for him at a nearby table, before Alus lifts it over his head to attack him with it.

[reilliane]

Intoxicate ★ Diluc

— ★ Scry: Lunar Umbra + Diluc + Reader's Prompt (Arranged Marriage) — ★ Genre: Romance + Angst — ★ Concept: Chained in a marriage devoid of love and acceptance, things change when someone begins to be intoxicated with love. — ★ Words: 2.7k A/N: This was changed from Ecliptic to Lunar at the last second because I realized there's absolutely no fluff at all-hfahwufhauilg

The arrangement is an obvious last resort for the [Surname]s, what with the decline of their prestige that mirrors the olden downfall of the Lawrences.

They haven’t been involved in any corruption, no.

Far worse. Far, far worse.

The head of the clan had been in league with the Fatui outside Mondstadt, keeping a lovely façade with the diplomats within the city, yet doing good for nothing deeds with the military that only resulted in countless casualties.

If not for the last wish of his father, Diluc would’ve burned down the arrangement itself, waging a silent war against the [Surname]s for all that they’ve done.

But he honors the wish, even if it remains against his personal wishes.

[Surname] [Name] is to be his wife.

No one in Mondstadt believes it to be true; the beaute from the clan of unlawful evil is to be married to the one and only Ragnvindr.

But all their doubts disperse when they come to descry the golden ring on the latter’s finger whenever he enters the city.

Indeed, they’re a beautiful couple to see, but they know one thing for certain when they notice the obvious disinterest in both their eyes.

It’s nothing more but a marriage of mercy, not of love.

Absolute is the cognizance of many when it comes to knowing the last Ragnvindr’s hatred towards the Fatui. So, when news of [Name] is to be his wife, confusion arose.

When they see the pair ambling about, the people are uncertain as to whether who is the most unfortunate one.

The lady whose clan was ascertained to be in cohorts with the Snezhnayan military force—and thus fell from grace and respect, or the man whose loss of his life’s colors was done by no other than the Fatui.

And, in honoring the wish of his father, had to take in an ostracized woman who was determined to have worked with the organization he’s fighting against.

It’s an unfortunate tale and relationship, through and through.

But it doesn’t stop there… oh, it doesn’t.

Those tending to the manor know very well, the arguments within those wooden walls. It’s an infrequent event, actually, the disagreements between the married couple, but when it does come around… it’s as blazing as ever.

The head maid Adelinde realizes that this particular one, however, in the dead of night, just as everyone is about to retire to their own lodgings—it isn’t as heated as previous quarrels.

It’s more… how can she put it, solemn. As if it is a dispute between two stranger-turned friends.

If one questions her opinion about this marriage, she’ll say it’s a tragedy. After all, her master’s relationship with the lady ran far deeper than the people knew.

Heaving a sigh, the blonde maid makes her way down the stairs and towards the exit, letting the muffled voices disappear in the back of her mind as she shuts the doors.

The candlelight barely flickers, its flame gentle in comparison to the scalding heat in the crimson-haired man’s stare.

His place by the window, his back against you, is almost intimidating.

You can feel his displeasure spiking the moment he welcomed you into the room.

Well, ‘welcomed’ is a bit of a stretch, it’s easy to say that he only let you in because you’d bug him some other day about it if he didn’t.

Feeling peculiarly safe with the wooden desk situated between you and the man—acting like some barrier—you bite your lips, mustering the courage you’ve lost the moment you learned of your family’s incredulous secret.

“Diluc, I know you’re more than upset with this, and I apologize—but-“

“If you know of my sentiments then you have no need to bother telling me about it,” he cuts you off with a voice as passive as possible, but the window reflects the annoyance in his features.

“Be grateful that I have taken you in… despite the fact that you are a part of them.”

He grips his forearms tighter in its crossed position, the furrowing of his brows seen in the dimly lit reflection as he continues, “It’s by the wish of my late father and by mercy alone that I argued with Acting Grand Master to have you with me than be exiled.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Is he saying this for real? And here you thought that—he’d have at least done it out of the goodness of his own heart.

Oh, you shouldn’t have hoped for something impossible.

Threading fingers through your hair and placing a hand on your hip, you pause, attempting to process all that he said. Unbelievable.

“You think I wanted this?”

“Be more specific, what is ‘this’? To be caught? For your right to love someone else be stripped away? Or to have fallen from your little throne?”

By now, Diluc has turned away from the window, opting to rest his hands on the table and look at you head-on. His handsome face lacks the smile that was last seen a decade ago.

The manner in how he delivers his questions is eloquent, the gruff in his voice intoxicated with poison.

If words could injure, you’ll be bleeding out by now.

“I’m talking about you!” you slam on your hands on the desk, mirroring his stance with disbelief and disappointment the most prominent emotions leaking from your voice.

“I thought you knew me better, Diluc. I thought that, out of everyone else, you would know that I have done nothing with the Fatui.”

But you’ve hoped for something that cannot come true. To start with, hoping for him to understand your situation is a lost cause. Not when the Fatui is roped into it.

Yet, you clung unto that small belief, to no avail.

As you plummet from a place you thoroughly thought was there out of your ancestor’s goodness, there is no one to cushion your fall when you realize that your family had assumed that place solely through wicked methods.

Or perhaps, once upon a time, the family was good but had lost their way.

The [Surname]s are far worse than the Lawrences in terms of deception, or so some of the folks in Mondstadt whisper.

I have nothing to do with this, you plea inwardly, and you speak nothing but the truth. I’m innocent.

Yet no one will believe you.

“All the guilty speak of the same thing…” Diluc mutters, fostering an even harsher glare as if he’s enraged that you decided to reason that mid-argument, “My affiliation with you in the past.. it has nothing to do with your circumstance now.”

That being the bittersweet story of how you’ve been friends with him—and his brother, and even Jean, as well another—until he left Mondstadt and his future as a Favonius Knight.

Leaving it to bite the dust.

When he came back, he’s no longer the boy you knew—this argument with him just solidifies that further. You feel defeated. Lost.

And there’s nothing more to salvage than broken dreams and fractured pasts.

What you harbored before as a silly crush that bloomed into something more, is now withering helplessly.

“… You’ve changed, Diluc.”

His burning desire to see the Fatui scum be eaten by the flames that consumed his woeful, mourning heart is too wild to subdue. Too strong to overpower.

And he’ll pause that hatred for nothing and no one.

Even if it means severing the last of his already flimsy ties with you.

Something falters in his gaze at your response, reticent of defeat. Or perhaps it’s just your eyes playing tricks again, nonetheless, it is a certitude.

The gold ring on your finger—one you’ve dreamed of when you were a child—has zero value. Although rings are meant to symbolize an eternity together with him, in truth, you are alone.

“So have you.”

“No,” you laugh humorlessly, caressing the cold metal of the worthless circle as you turn your back on him. Once and for all.

“I haven’t… not at all.”

Arguments are nonexistent after that night, and along with it, died the suffocating atmosphere. There is simply the bitter acceptance of things.

And no one is against it.

If anything, it has actually gotten peaceful in the manor. There is little—almost none, to be honest—interaction, no trivial small talk, and zero greetings.

Other than the maids and servants occupying the place, it feels like living with a ghost.

And to Diluc, it’s not a problem at all.

He resumes his days working about, trying to uncover schemes of that infuriating organization, governing Mondstadt in the evening, and going about the winery.

Rarely is he ever in the manor, which he’s thankful of.

The only times he gets to see [Name] is when he dines with her in the morning, out of the respect he has left. Yet even then, only the clinking of silverware can ever be heard in the dining hall.

Returning by midnight, he will see his wife—by mere papers and words—sitting by the fireplace, a wineglass in hand. He will divert his eyes in mild choler, the smell of finely brewed wine giving him a headache.

He will later notice that [Name] is always drinking the night away with a bottle of wine around a few months later, when he catches her staring at the flames as if she’s trying to lose herself in the past.

“I pay for it, don’t worry.” He doesn’t miss the dead tone of her delivery as she takes another sip, heaving a sigh afterward.

It’s the first thing he’s heard from her in a long time, and he huffs. “It doesn’t matter.”

Seeing her outside is just as rare, but when he does, Diluc does not approach—nor does the woman.

He thinks [Name] is wallowing in guilt following the aftermath of her family’s downfall, for until now he is unable to see the light in her eyes.

It disappeared after their last argument.

He also notes how few of Mondstadt’s folks are welcoming of the unexiled [Surname], for obvious reasons.

The city visibly dims whenever the latter comes to visit, but by the looks of it, the lady is far from being bothered.

Or at least he thought. But he wouldn’t know that yet.

Perhaps if he stuck around further, he’ll see the faintest crack in the façade [Name] has tried her utmost hardest to build. But he doesn’t.

Not until he comes home to the same scene he’s been a witness to for the past several months, almost a year. At first, he pays no mind to it, because what else is new?

But then he hears the faintest of sniffles and a held back sob—and he just pauses.

Weeping? Initially, he tells himself that he shouldn’t bother. Maybe she didn’t hear him enter. But he remains glued to the floor.

“I waited for you… for so long,” the bottle of wine clinks against the tableside, “Trusted you… but I was wrong.”

They both always kept to themselves, not once invading each other’s privacy, so staying for longer scalds his throat and sense of moral.

As discreetly and silent as possible, he moves to the staircase, trying not to listen to the girl’s musings.

Yet he isn’t swift enough.

“Perhaps if I hadn’t been too ambitious, too hopeful, then maybe I wouldn’t be suffering like a pathetic person.”

Or maybe she’s always known that he’s there.

“But the heart strays… it loves and it hurts…”

Because when he’s reached the upper floor and catches sight of the lower level, he finds [Name] looking at him.

Her whisper—it’s raw of emotions that are too plenty to tell at once, but with a simple look in those [c] eyes, he can decipher one.

“Doesn’t it, Diluc?”

Anguish. Yearning over something unobtainable. It’s the message of defeat and surrender in her stare. It’s puissant.

[Name] breaks the eye contact as nonchalantly as ever, returning to the silent shell she had been, drinking and losing herself in the intoxicating wine that dulls the pain, he assumes.

Bewildered, the Ragnvindr retreats to his room and tries to get a wink of sleep, but slumber evades him like a slithering snake.

Instead, that night is sealed with nothing but recollections of what he’s heard, along with the past he has shared with her. A past that he has buried and severed.

The morning after, Diluc finds her as he’s walking to Mondstadt, by the grasses with wind wheel asters. Flowers that the lady is currently caressing, raising it to allow the wind to spin its petals.

“Diluc?” the voice breezes, childlike and mirthful, and—

For a second, his sight is showing him something different; it shows him a child with [c] hair and [c] eyes, the smile on her face as large as it could be, beckoning him over with another call of his name.

But then the wind blows a harsher breeze and he’s blinking—then the spectacle in front of him has moved back to the present.

Diluc sees the same lady, refined by the years, clutching the same wind wheel asters she’d weave into crowns. She called his name in wonder, not excitement.

And there is no smile on her visage.

He lowers his head, walking back on track without so much as a response, endeavoring to bury the prickling recollection of long ago.

That night, he comes home, again, to a scene he’s used to. Only, [Name] is not drinking wine, nor is she weeping. She’s asleep on the loveseat, but she appears to be squirming.

She could’ve gone to her quarters, he mulls, walking closer, only to find out that the lady is fidgeting in place because of a nightmare.

Her arms are clasped around her body like she’s trying to protect herself from something, and she shivers.

As if it’s inherent to him, he sets his eyes on the fireplace. The flames have gone down.

“… You’ve always hated the cold,” Diluc mutters, catching the subconscious frown and tiny whimper that rakes through the woman as she sleeps.

Biting the inside of his cheeks, he leaves, thinking nothing—but amid the feeblest of whispers, he hears his name being called.

A stray tear runs down [Name]’s cheeks and, when Diluc reproaches to see if she indeed called for him and has awakened, he notices something on the table. It isn’t the usual bottle of wine and glass.

Atop is none other than a crown of wind wheel asters.

[Name] will awaken the next day with a blanket over her, and a small smile on her face. A smile rarely seen by those in the manor.

And one that will everyone in Dawn Winery will speak over in bewildered gossips and excited musings. Such, of course, doesn’t fly by the ears and eyes of the Ragnvindr himself.

He notices the mornings when they will dine together, from the end of the table, he’ll see the light in her eyes has returned.

For some reason, witnessing it lightens the weight in his chest.

Whenever he’ll work in the manor with paperwork, he’ll hear her humming a tune or two and he finds it pleasant to listen to.

There are times when Adelinde or Connor will inform him of his wife’s returning charisma, seen in the smile on her face and the bounce following her steps. It feels like she has been revived.

And although they haven’t gone back to occasional speaking terms, he’ll feel at ease, and his chest will flutter.

Perhaps, maybe, [Name] knows that he’s been the one personally replacing the vase of flowers in her room?

That he’s the one who has been secretly restocking the wine rack with her favorites?

Maybe… just maybe, it’s because of him?

Maybe… not.

For when he comes back from Mondstadt, earlier than usual, at the time of twilight, with freshly plucked wind wheel asters, he sees someone he does not expect to see.

[Name] is smiling, bright and sweeter than usual, a sight no one has seen after the exile of the [Surname]s. And she’s speaking to-

“I can’t believe you’re here, Thoma. It’s been so long! I got your letters.”

Their friend who came to move to Inazuma a long, long time ago. And just like him, Thoma has brought along a lovely bouquet of wind wheel asters.

He’s always been such a bright man, with an equally bright smile—that when he asks,

“Will you come to Inazuma with me, [Name]?”

Diluc can’t help but stagger to the corner, in the shadows cast by the setting sun, and drop the measly plucked flowers. Letting the wind carry it away.

As it does with his heavy heart.

Silently, the crimson-haired man sighs to himself.

He detests it, but doesn't wine dull the pain away?

a/n: thoma being mr. steal yo wife -/SLAPPED. he doesn't know, he really doesn't- in truth, this ending is quite ambiguous. it's open-ended, i didn't write in whether MC accepted it or not so~ the ending is up to you, dears!

WELL NEVERMIND, HERE'S THE THOMA ENDING-

shucking diluc being stubborn just won't-GAAAAHHHH-

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @koi-chairowo

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

[terrence-silver]

Yandere old man Terry finding you after you dared to run away from him . . .

@atmostories

---

Vaguely speaking, some fifty years ago give or take, when Terry was still a young man --- or a younger man, rather --- even before the war itself, he was raised under the now vaguely archaic, old fashioned and some would even say offensive mantra of being persistent with what he wanted, especially where attachments were concerned. 'If you have your eye on someone, you should chase them, Terrence, my boy, and never, ever, ever let them go. A real man is unyielding. A real man chases. A real man wears down. Breaks all defenses. Takes initiative. Conquers. That's how a real man wins. Gets exactly what he wants, when he wants it.' --- His old man would firmly, relentlessly tutor him in the true, classical ways of love and passion and the lesson always stuck with Terry in the back of his mind long after his father's bones turned to dust deep beneath the ground. If he didn't chase a thing, he figured he simply wasn't interested. Not truly. It was a passing fling. A passing nothing. If his very blood didn't bid him to move in the most primal way, then it wasn't genuine.

Now an old man himself, Terry was chasing.

The teachings of the dead calling out to him from the beyond.

He cackles in delight at the steering wheel as he pulls up in a neon-lit, flickering alleyway he's tracked you into via the little app he snuck into your phone and it's led him down here - at two in the morning. He wasn't sure what you were trying to do, sweet little thing like you, in such a place, but he figured you spotted his car somewhere down the highway (not that he was trying to hide) or that you simply felt him approaching, in your very bones, like an oncoming monsoon, and hid, anywhere, anywhere you could, like a mouse crawling into the nearest hole. How precious. You've been running around the city for a while now and that too was precious. Like playing hide and seek with a child one chooses to indulge. He pulls up and steps into the darkness between two buildings and hears you breathing somewhere up ahead, a few steps in front of him, in the winding labyrinth of walls, only to find you backed up against a fenced up portion of the passage, writhing and caught. Trapped, were you? Nowhere to go? He stands in front of you leisurely, hands in pockets and merely admires you. What a peach. What a beaut.

-"No more of this buffoonery,"- Fuck, he even sounds epochal to his own ears, extending his hand towards you and effectively grabbing you and your shivering form, pulling you into a chokehold disguised as a hug, tucking you into his jacket, intending to lead you back into the state of the art, underground dungeon he's designed for you underneath his newly renovated dojo office, so you can always be at arms length. Always with him. His little domesticated bunny. -"Time to go home."- Terry softly coos as you weep. Father's advice turned out to be entirely accurate and sound of mind even over half a century later. Who would've thunk it? Seems like the old, traditional ways were the very best. Or maybe he's just went entirely off of the rails? No, no. He was awake. Finally awake. Aware. -"Don't be so fussy,"- He cajoles you in your sobbing state, rubbing your forearm in comfort with a wide smile, chucking. You were such a baby. -"In certain cultures, they still kidnap their potential mates as a courting ritual."-

[siremasterlawrence]

Twilight Void: Prince Thor

Prince Thor Odison of Asgard Son Of King Odin a jovial titan warrior of ancient Norse Mythology.

Today the party they have planned in honor of Thor latest victory from his batter on the side of The Avengers.

The palace door swings open in a golden display of wealth flourishes over everything.

The royal Tables flooded with a variety of fruits, food and other delicious delicacies.

Thor rifles through it all reaching out of a huge gauntlet of specially made ale for him.

He places his hammer Miljnor down on the beautiful ordain table unaware of the danger upon them.

“Master Lawrence… What do you wish from me?”Superman ask me.

“Rise to your feet Clark, this is Asgard that thrown should be mine.” He tells Clark.

“As you wish” Clark grants him his wish as he whoosh into the air heading to Asgard.

Heimdall sense the oncoming arrival his hard hand slamming his sword in to the pike

Thor’s attention is refocusing in on the new enemy who with the nerves of steel pun intended.

Clark burst through the golden doors into the main room and lands before Odins thrown.

“Whom are you to Enter Odins palace?” Thor demands to know.

“My name is Clark Kent of Earth.” Clark states proudly.

“You dane to disrespect our king.” Heimdell demands.

He takes stance raising his sword he leads his hand in for a slash.

Clark’s hand blocks the sword effortless as it broke in to pieces and kicks him in to the wall.

Clark moves forward then they step in to the light The Warrior Three Fandral, Hogan and Siff.

“Stay where you are, you do not belong here” Fandral says.

“King Odin has no interest in you.” Siff is in no joking mood.

“Move it so we can get back to the party”

Hogun continues.

“I have no plans to leave until my kings says so.” Clark shrugs.

Siff swings his sword driving the sword in a fiery fit and he fought with him.

He kicks her in the stomach taking the cold beaut sword in hand.

Clark swiftly uses the collar of a dress in to the sky and threw it in the air.

He punches her in to two sky as he cries in pain, and uses his feet to drip Fandral.

In the air he kicks him multiple times then he smashes his armors.

Hogun is next but Clark is having none of it at all, and reaches for his legs.

He shoots in to the sky spinning him out of control and then throwing him aside.

Thor’s eyes narrow on him the force field of electrical energy output drains in to his ole hammer.

Clark Kent loses his eyes dragging his body across the room smashing every one is his opponents.

He flew to the thrown landing on it he cups Odin’s collar till he floating in the air.

Thor had enough of this unnecessary action of this earthling to disgrace Odin.

Thor whips his hammer spinning it out of control creating a electrical current radiate

He lets the hammer take sight of the man to the air before he launches it at him.

The hammer becomes like a heat seeking missile hitting Superman head on sending him in to the floor.

Clark falls to the ground digging his palms in to the ground and he lifts his face.

He stares down Thor pushing himself up to his feet and he ascends to the sky.

The two face each other fist in hand blow after blow they hit the sky erupts.

The entire city of Asgard awash in beauty very few people will even see in their lives.

Thor once again creating a massive storm shower washing over the magical city of Asgard.

The thunder and lightening erupts blasting everywhere hitting the grounds crackling.

The crowds in freight mood scream running away from the scene.

Clark stands tall arms cross in a odd defiant manner of manliness.

“Nice magic trick” Clark retorts.

“You dare speak ill of me” Thor stood in disbelief.

“Was I disrespectful? Oh well!”

“Foul behavior must be punished”

It is time to move this along they both Xmas to a simple conclusion.

One fist plus Mijnor meet cashing hard

like echo pitch sending all into tail spin.

“Who is this Master Lawrence you speak of?”

“He is my King and yours now too”

“Verily! I see”

The end

Happy Easter Treat! See You In May!

[machinegunbun]

2

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you