#poaching plans aside

[slythereen]

scuderia ferrari when charles starts on pole: looking forward to a c2 fight‼️🤺 what happens on track stays on track‼️🤪

meanwhile red bull racing: hehe giggly lestappen content 🥰

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 

how ridiculous is that? 

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 

satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 

but the entire time, you never look back. 

you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

fellow snake enthusiast here! i’m considering getting an eastern indigo snake in the near future (literally my childhood dream) and i’m weighing the pros and cons. just wondering your two cents on indigos? would you personally own one?

thanks!

Oh, I would just adore an eastern indigo. I'd have one in a heartbeat. I've only gotten to work with indigoes in a limited capacity, but they've been a delight every time, and I have more experience with other cribos and they're similarly wonderful. I used to have a blacktail cribo who was one of the best snakes I've ever known, I miss him every day.

Pros and cons -

They're super expensive. Eastern indigoes are endangered and their trade is (rightfully) highly limited to prevent the poaching of wild snakes. All of them are going to be captive-bred, but they're hard to find and you will need to pay a lot - plan on a couple thousand dollars unless you get very lucky.

Be sure to check your local laws. Indigo snakes are not legal to own in some areas, especially in their native range.

They are big, active snakes, and they are messy. Plan on a 5-7 foot long adult. You will need a huge enclosure and you'll need to clean it a lot! My old cribo used to, like, literally paint the walls with poop. It was easily the worst thing about him.

They are smart, and this can be both a pro and a con. They're easy to train and engaging to work with, but they also need some mental stimulation and lots of enrichment or they can get restless and grouchy.

Their care is not demanding, as long as they have moderate humidity and relatively low basking temperatures, they're fine. Might be a bit tricky for beginner keepers but if you're experienced their care is easy. They're also phenomenal eaters!

I can't overstate how fun they are to work with. They're sweet, engaging snakes to handle and are just an absolute blast to hang out with!

Like I said, I'd have an indigo in a heartbeat, and the only thing keeping me from owning one is cost and availability. Aside from that, it's also worth noting that you'll need to dedicate a lot of time to their enrichment and cleaning, even after setting up a large (and likely very costly) enclosure for them.

Indigoes and other cribos are awesome, but there are reasons they're not more popular pets.

[cakepoppresent]

I'm Just Worried About You

Finally! It's graduation time! The ceremony went smoothly. Vaughn did NOT invite his father but Grams, Brooklyn and Veronica were in attendance. Vaughn wasn't able to find time to speak with Veronica but he plans on pulling her aside today and clearing everything out

Hopefully

Su stands alone and proud. Graduation comes and goes, and no one stands in his corner to tell Su they are proud of him. Vaughn is there but he has his own family to show their support. The only redeeming factor today is Grayson

Finally, at the after party, it's filled with new graduates, business moguls and interested companies looking to poach new recruits to their side. Su stands off to the side eyes scanning the crowd for his little dude Spotted.

Su walks straight to Grayson his hands immediately around Grayson's waist and pulls him close "Took you long enough. You look good"

Grayson: Congrats Su!! You're free! No more assignments or projects. Must be nice

Su: It's very nice. Are you here alone?

Grayson: My parents are somewhere

Pulling Grayson to a quiet hall Su stood in front of him with a worried look

Su: How much do you know about Gideon and how he handled his grandparents

Grayson: Hmmm, I'm not sure he said something about selling shares. We're supposed to meet today and talk about it

Talk to Gideon about it? That's not happening with Su around. Grayson just needs a push in the right direction and everything will fall into place.

Su: Are you sure? I don't want you hurt

Grayson: Why would I be hurt? Gideon wouldn't hurt me. It's just a talk

Su: I just worry for you. You can't trust Gideon. The people he's associating with are dangerous. What if you get hurt? or your family? Do you want that on your conscience?

Grayson: What the hell are you talking about? Gideon isn't dangerous

Su: Are you sure? The people he is working with now are dangerous

Grayson: I don't understand what you're saying. Gideon is working for someone dangerous? Who? How dangerous?

Su: I can't say but I know he is from Mt. Komorebi and they deal with shady businesses. It's not safe for you to be with Gideon. I'm worried for you Grayson. I won't be able to forgive myself if I don't let you know. Gideon isn't who he says. Think about how long he has been lying to you? Months? A year? Everything he's done has been a lie. You said it yourself you deserve better.

Gideon is literally the softest person he knows, there is no way Gideon is a killer.

Grayson: You can't just lie on him like that! This won't make me date you

Su: I don't need to lie about this. Gideon cannot be trusted, do you want to be with someone who kills with a command?

Grayson thinks back, did Gideon actually tell him what he was doing? He can't think of a time when Gideon explicitly told him his plans. He remembers late-night calls but Gideon always said it was nothing and he took it to heart. Grayson starts to get a headache

Su: Listen. Grayson if you don't believe me. Ask him yourself. I know for a fact all the men who work under Gideon's boss need to get a tattoo as a sign of loyalty. It should be on his back. Ask him. If it's not there then I won't say anything more and I'll leave you alone

Grayson: Fine! I'll ask Gideon you can't just lie on him like that!

Su: I'm just thinking about you

Grayson: DON'T touch me. I'm leaving

Watching Grayson leave, Su spots someone in the dashing into a stairwell. Interesting...everything is really working in his favour

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 3 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: An engagement party only sinks Gloria's roots deeper into the Corleone family and gives her a glimpse of what her future may hold.

Note: I plan to have chapter 4 posted next weekend! This fic has been so fun to write, and I appreciate the support on here and AO3 for it🖤

Warnings: Angst, canonical major character death, discussions of infidelity, emotional manipulation. Sexually explicit content which includes masochism.

Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

Chapter 2 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

“Looks like Senator Kennedy might run for president next year. They’re saying just because he’s Catholic, he’d probably lose the primaries in the South,” Gloria said, scanning the copy of the Boston Globe that room service had brought up with breakfast, along with that day’s editions of the New York Times, Washington Post, and Los Angeles Post. “Can you believe that?”

Michael nodded from his spot next to her on the loveseat, using his toast to mop up the yolk from his poached egg. “I can believe it.”

She glanced at the photo of Massachusetts Senator John F. Kennedy printed on the Globe’s article. “He sure is easy on the eyes. Almost got my vote already.”

“Would you really vote for a candidate just because you thought he was attractive?”

Gloria shielded her face behind the newspaper, hiding her grin. “It sure helps. You’d win by a landslide.” She started giggling when she heard him scoff. 

She knew the Senate hearings were still a sore spot for him, his family business being speculated about on the national stage. Throughout the hearings, she’d naturally kept an eye on the papers, amused by the various asides about Michael’s appearance. Intimidating, they called him, a powerful presence who commanded the attention of the room. She especially liked the article in a gossip magazine she indulged in that described him as handsome in a dark and dangerous way that almost inspires something primal in a woman. 

“You’re funny.”

“I’m not allowed to give you a compliment?”

He acquiesced with the slightest smile on his face. “Thank you.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome,” she said as she flipped to the next page of the article. “My mom’s already chomping at the bit to volunteer for his campaign.”

Gloria’s mother, Julia, was especially active in the Queens branch of the New York Democratic Party, volunteering for every one of Franklin Roosevelt’s presidential campaigns. Gloria could remember canvassing with her mother during election years. After he was elected president a third time, Julia received a thank you letter in the mail from Eleanor Roosevelt. She had the letter framed, and as far as Gloria knew, it was still displayed in the living room of her childhood home.

“Have you heard from your parents about the engagement party?”

“They’re not coming. Dad can’t take the time off of work,” Gloria said. 

When he had told her such, she knew it wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to tell Michael that she could hear her father pour himself a drink over the phone when she informed him that she would be marrying a gangster.

He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d like to speak with your father soon.”

Gloria hummed noncommittally. “How many people are going to be there?”

“Just family, around thirty or so.”

“Thirty? Michael, you said it was going to be a small gathering.”

He grinned. “In my family it is.” He brushed some of her long black hair from her face. “You’ll know everyone soon enough.”

“Well, I already know your siblings. They’re going to be there, right?”

“Fredo can’t make it.”

“That’s a shame. He introduced us, after all.”

“It can’t be helped,” he said dismissively. “Connie will be there. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”

Gloria liked all of Michael’s siblings, but she considered Connie a friend. Whenever Connie was in Vegas, which was quite often when she wasn’t jet-setting with her latest beau, Michael would ask Gloria to keep an eye on her. Of course, this would turn into nights of drinking, partying, and watching Connie win or lose astonishing amounts of money in the casino. 

“You have nothing to worry about. They’re friendlier than I am,” he said, earning a soft laugh from her.

By the end of the week, she wasn’t so sure, but Michael had been the one who insisted on the engagement party, telling her that his family had never been involved in his wedding preparations in the past. They hadn’t even attended the ceremony. With his mother’s health declining, it was important to him. 

If Gloria had been nervous to meet Michael’s children, meeting the rest of his family had her stomach in knots. She poured herself a drink to calm down before the car arrived to pick her up from her hotel. While Anthony and Mary could be shielded from the truth of Michael and Gloria’s relationship by virtue of their youth, she figured the rest of his family already considered her a homewrecker. Not entirely untrue, but she wondered how what tale had been woven prior to her arrival. Undoubtedly something to make her more palatable to his extended family.

As she crossed the threshold of his home for the first time, she felt a different warmth in his house than the kind that engulfed her in her childhood home when she had visited for Thanksgiving a few months prior. That warmth had given way to a love that wrapped around her like a blanket, a love she could dream in. The love that permeated the air in Michael’s home clung to her skin like summer sweat. Nevertheless, she supposed a sweltering love was better than none at all.

Though, when he squeezed her hand, his smile betrayed his fondness for her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. It almost made her wish that they were alone again, but there were introductions to be made. Namely, his mother Carmela, who was clearly being polite to Gloria for Michael’s sake and to set a good example for Anthony and Mary. Michael’s children barely left their grandmother’s side but seemed happy to see Gloria again. Taking the hint, Michael kept the conversation short. 

“I have some business to go over with Tom. It won’t take long, but I think my sister’s about to steal you anyway,” Michael said softly, giving Gloria a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

As he retreated into his office, Connie rushed over to Gloria. 

Connie beamed, pulling her in for a hug. “Gloria! God, how long has it been?”

“Hi, Connie,” she said, returning her future sister-in-law’s embrace. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Congratulations! Now let me see that ring!”

Gloria moved back, holding out her hand so Connie could inspect the engagement ring Michael gave her. The night had been quiet, unceremonious if not for his presenting her with the ring, beautiful yet understated. After he slid it onto her finger, her hand burned, and she thought she was having some kind of allergic reaction to the metal until she noticed no redness or hives on her skin—psychosomatic, merely branded in her mind’s eye.

“Gorgeous, oh my god,” Connie gasped. “It suits you.”

Before Gloria could say anything more to Connie, a gaggle of younger relatives walked over to introduce themselves. All nieces and nephews, some older with their spouses and fiances of their own. Despite Connie reminding Gloria who was who, she felt her head spin at the amount of new names and faces she would be expected to know. It didn’t help that Michael’s late brother Sonny had twin girls, who were the spitting image of their mother, Sandra. While both of Gloria’s parents had a handful of siblings themselves, her extended family wasn’t nearly as close-knit as the Corleones were.

The line between business and family was almost nonexistent for them. Each son fated to take up some role in the volatile business, a Greek tragedy enacted by mostly Sicilian players–Sonny, the eldest son, dead by enemies taking advantage of his anger and hubris; Tom, the adopted son, a trusted advisor, though his heritage always left him the outsider; Fredo, the forgotten son, good-natured yet quietly resentful; Michael, the youngest son, who tried to escape his destiny but was instead doomed by a narrative greater than himself and even further corrupted by it. The chorus raged on with its warnings of the ruthless pursuit of power ignored, and Gloria shuddered to think what lay ahead for Anthony and the son Michael wanted her to carry.

Going forward, her life would be nothing short of a whirlwind of people. She wondered how Michael’s children could stand it, how he could stand it. For a family so guarded and secretive, they didn’t have much privacy. Everyone knew everything about each other. Corleone family associates filtered in and out of his house day and night. 

“Why don’t you all give the woman a break so she can get something to eat?” Sandra finally said, putting her arm around Gloria’s shoulders and leading her into the kitchen.

“Thank you. I couldn’t eat before I got here. My nerves were all over the place,” Gloria said, taking a plate and helping herself to the antipasto that was set out on the table. She popped a few olives in her mouth as she piled the various meats and cheeses onto her plate.

Sandra stood next to her, taking a slice of prosciutto for herself. “No, I understand. We’re insular, guess it’s just easier that way.” 

Gloria silently wondered how easy it really could be. Sandra had been a widow for at least a decade, with Sonny having been brutally murdered on the Long Beach causeway during the Corleones’ war with rival families. The details were all over the papers at the time, but none showed the photos of Sonny’s body, apparently too gruesome to be printed as he was riddled with bullets to the point where he was nearly unrecognizable. Still, Sandra was taken care of, her marriage all but secured that even after her husband’s death, an Old World life insurance policy. 

“I don’t know what I expected. Everyone seems so…normal,” Gloria said, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Ah, that’s not the right word. I mean—“

“This thing’s been going on longer than you and me,” Sandra said, gesturing vaguely. “I stopped trying to understand it a long time ago. It’ll drive you crazy.”

“I don’t even bother,” Gloria said through a mouthful of mozzarella. “He keeps me too busy to even think about it, anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Sandra said, a sly smile on her face that Gloria couldn’t help but snicker in response to. “Believe me honey, I get mine.”

Tom appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

She noticed the look Sandra and Tom shared as he walked over, albeit brief, it was all too familiar. The desire, the longing, the silent promise of later, despite Tom’s wife Theresa being just a room away. Interesting. Gloria had more in common with the Corleone women than she thought.

“Gloria, congratulations,” Tom said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it.”

“Could you come with me to Michael’s office? I just need to go over a few things with you.”

Gloria nodded, following him out of the kitchen and through the labyrinth of people in the living room. 

As soon as she stepped into Michael’s office, she nearly felt the urge to genuflect before taking a seat next to him on the leather upholstered couch, as if sliding into a pew during mass. His face lit up ever so slightly when he saw her, and he took her hand in his. 

“It’s good news, darling. Don’t worry,” Michael said, reading her hesitation.

She gave him a weak smile before bringing her attention to Tom.

“The divorce is almost finalized, but I’ve sent Michael’s petition to the Vatican to have his marriage to Kay annulled,” Tom said. “Between our connections to the Holy See and the severity of what she committed, I don’t anticipate this taking more than two or three months.”

All Gloria could manage in response was a quiet, “Wow.”

Michael smiled, patting Gloria’s hand. The gesture meant to be reassuring, as if Gloria had asked for it, like she was the one who wanted Kay’s sin repaid pound for pound if not in blood, then in excommunication and eternal damnation. Kay’s decision was her own, but Gloria wasn’t without sin, and neither was Michael, yet he was more than willing to have his soon to be ex-wife formally damned. Knowing Michael, the most he believed in was the hierarchy, the institution. God was merely an irritating obstacle at best and outright competition at worst.

The revelation of Kay’s mortal sin to the Vatican would almost guarantee Michael an annulment. With that in place, there’d be nothing to stop them from having a formal wedding mass despite his being divorced from a consummated marriage. An otherwise long and tedious process to convince the Catholic Church to invalidate the eternal, holy bond of matrimony would be taken care of in a matter of months. 

“Once that’s all sorted out, the two of you will be able to set a date. Obviously the situation isn’t ideal, but—“

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate the effort,” Gloria said awkwardly. 

He nodded, his tight-lipped smile slightly strained. He lacked the pleasure that his brother had in the situation at hand, but there was little else he could do as consigliere. 

“I have one more thing to discuss with Tom, but I’ll join you again soon,” Michael said, walking her over to the door. “Won’t leave you with the sharks too long.”

He kissed the top of her hand before she made her exit. As soon as the door shut behind her, Gloria searched out Connie, who was helping herself to a glass of wine. 

“Always business with them, huh?” Connie quipped.

“Something like that,” Gloria said. “Hey, did Michael tell you why Fredo couldn’t make it? You’d think he’d be here. He introduced Michael and me.”

“You know, I’m not sure myself,” Connie said, though her tone wasn’t entirely convincing. “Hard to keep track of everyone. I mean, Francesca and her fiance are god knows where, and Ma just went off to take a walk.”

Gloria sighed. “I don’t think your mother likes me very much.”

“Ma’s old fashioned, is all,” Connie assured her. “She hasn’t liked anyone I married.”

“Gee, thanks, Connie.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t let this keep you from being excited.”

“I’m excited, absolutely,” Gloria said, feeling that anxious was more appropriate. “The relationship feels so different now compared to when me and Michael were just fooling around.”

Connie’s laugh caught the attention of just about everyone within a few feet of them, turning to see what the commotion was about. “Gloria, you know as well as I do that my brother does not fool around,” she whispered.

That much was true. Michael had a sense of humor, it was one of Gloria’s favorite things about him, but even that was guarded, doled out sparingly to a select few. Nothing half-assed or left to chance, he was meticulous and calculated, necessary traits to earn wartime promotions and later lead the Corleone family. She should have realized sooner that his maintaining their relationship for so long would serve a greater purpose.

Conversely, Gloria never considered herself the marrying type, not finding the trappings of domesticity appealing compared to the independence she enjoyed as a single woman. None of her other dalliances ever lasted longer than a few weeks. While she never considered herself quite the party girl that her Las Vegas peers were, she was never one to deny herself pleasure, throwing caution to the wind in pursuit of a good time if she felt so inclined.

Perhaps her appeal as a wife to Michael was two-fold, what she could offer him as potential mother of his child, and an ego boost in conquering her, a woman half-feral whose worldliness coursed through her veins. A much needed triumph after the domestication of his sophisticated New Englandite ex-wife had regressed until she destroyed her cage, blood and iron reflected in her wild green eyes. 

She looked at Mary and Anthony, playing with their cousins, seemingly unaware of the significance of the occasion. After the dinner a few weeks prior, Michael said that he had told them Kay had done something very bad, and so she left and wasn’t coming back, and they weren’t to ask him any more questions about it. She wondered if they actually believed him.

“I need some air,” Gloria said abruptly.

She rushed over to the sliding glass door that led outside, shoving a cigarette between her lips as she made her way onto the deck that overlooked Lake Tahoe. Lighting the cigarette with shaky hands, she almost didn’t notice her future mother-in-law standing just a few feet away from her.

“Mrs. Corleone—uh, hi,” Gloria said.

The matriarch was silent, save for a brief nod of acknowledgement. 

“How are you liking the party?”

“It’s fine.”

“That’s good. Michael will be glad to hear it.”

Silence once again hung in the air. Gloria brought her cigarette to her lips, watching the smoke rise above them.

“I don’t approve of the way you and Michael conducted your relationship, contributing to his marital strife,” Carmela said, pausing briefly. “Maybe it would have ended up this way without you in the picture.”

Carmela and Kay were close, she knew as much. Connie had told her that the two would often go to Mass together. For all intents and purposes, Carmela had taken Kay under her wing. It made sense, Kay had taken up the mantle previously held by Carmela, and it helped that she was a nice, college-educated woman while still being a devoted wife and mother—until she couldn’t take it anymore. Gloria being Michael’s mistress was enough for her future mother-in-law to have already made up her mind about her.

“I understand.”

“What Kay did was desperate, a horrible thing after her cries for help weren’t heeded by my son.” Carmela side-eyed Gloria. “How often was he preoccupied with you?”

“Whenever he was in Vegas on business,” Gloria answered honestly. “We went to Los Angeles together twice, too.”

“My husband, God rest his soul, always used to tell our sons, ‘A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.’”

It was Gloria’s turn to be silent. She didn’t know the late Don Vito Corleone. Didn’t know whether or not he was a hypocrite. Michael admired him. The whole family spoke fondly of their dearly deceased patriarch. As far as Gloria was concerned, Vito was a myth, a superstition that existed in the whispers of every mafioso, spinning taller tales about their former Don with each passing year. For all she knew, people misquoted him the way they did Abraham Lincoln. 

“I’m not going to pretend I haven’t been selfish and made a lot of questionable choices. I’m not exactly sorry for them, either. For some reason, Michael loves me in spite of all of that, and I do love him.”

“That’s all that matters now, isn’t it? The only thing that can keep the family together…what’s left of it, anyway.” She gave Gloria a wistful smile. “Michael looked happy when he walked in with you. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.”

Gloria took a long drag on her cigarette, knowing Carmela would rather that happiness be with Kay, his wife, rather than with her. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Michael asked, startling Gloria a bit. She hadn’t heard him open the glass door to go outside.

“No, I’m going to head back inside now,” his mother said. “Chilly out.”

Michael nodded. “Alright, Ma. Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Michael and Gloria were silent as the Corleone matriarch made her exit. Gloria leaned against the railing, her back pressing against the hard wood as she took one last inhale of her cigarette before flicking it aside. She watched the ember glow faintly in the wet pile of spring leaves on the ground before going out.

“I didn’t see you inside. Connie told me you needed some air,” Michael said, standing in front of her.

“Just felt a little overwhelmed. So many people,” she said, as if that hadn’t been her job for five years. Except those were all strangers. Every person in that house was related to or worked for Michael, and soon she’d be part of it. “You really didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I wanted to,” he said. 

“Like how you want to marry me?” she asked. “The way it all happened, I just—“

“You just what?”

Her attention drifted to her hands, playing with her engagement ring as she withered beneath his intense gaze. “I just wonder if you thought this through.”

“I’ve done the thinking for both of us. I know you’re nervous, darling, but this is what’s best for you,” Michael said, with all the conviction of a man who still believed she was formed of his rib. Silly woman, head full of glittering diamonds, champagne bubbles, and red lipstick. He placed a firm hand over her fidgeting one. “I won’t be as careless as I have been in the past.”

Gloria stared at him for a moment, thinking she liked him better careless, at least more so than the front he put on for everyone, including her. For how important he claimed his family was, there was always distance, if not emotional then physical. At the very least, she closed the few inches between them, kissing him with the ferocity of a woman who was still resisting the trappings of domesticity. 

It didn’t matter to him. His hands found her hips as they always did, fingers pressing deep to claim her flesh as his own. His own instinct had momentarily clouded his reason, as he pulled away from her, albeit reluctantly. His eyes were trained on hers, pupils dilated when he finally glanced behind him, as if to make sure his family hadn’t seen this temporary lapse of control from their Don.

And they hadn’t. At least none of them indicated such as the night went on, and they slowly dispersed back to their respective homes on the vast Lake Tahoe compound or in the surrounding city, giving their congratulations and well-wishes to Gloria and Michael. 

She was grateful he’d at least arranged for his children to stay over at his mother’s, though she could tell he was growing tired of her insisting they be given time to adjust to Kay’s absence and Gloria’s sudden intrusion into their life. They’d undoubtedly have questions about Gloria staying the night, in their father’s bedroom, no less.

All traces of Kay ever being there were long gone, but Gloria glanced at the bed, Michael’s initials embroidered on the linens, wondering how many nights Kay had lain awake in that very bed, knowing her husband was with her. Maybe it was a relief after a while, seeing as Kay’s tolerance for Michael only dwindled as time went on.

Gloria liked it better when those things were separate, when she could be the other woman without having to think too hard about the implications. But she hadn’t driven Kay away. Michael had. And that same man was dragging her in, his desperation not quite as raw as the night he made his proposal, but still evident, if only to her.

This time, he initiated the kiss, his lips claiming hers, payback for her daring public display of affection earlier. He sunk his teeth into her lower lip, fresh blood blending with the red lipstick she wore, no doubt smeared across her mouth as the traces of it were on his. Though his intensity scared her at times, she found it thrilling, perhaps addicted to the adrenaline that came with riling him up, the one time she felt like she had the upper hand on him.

She kissed his neck, knowing better than to leave a mark, but at least temporarily leaving a streak of crimson in her wake. Reaching between them, she rubbed his cock through his pants, feeling it harden beneath her until his hips just barely bucked.

“Jesus—fuck, Gloria,” he groaned.

She gently protested his attempt to guide her back onto the bed. “Missionary, missionary,” she teased against his lips. “You know I’m the type of woman who likes variety.”

His nostrils flared, eyes widened at her words, and she resisted the urge to smirk until he’d turned her around, forcing her ass-up on the edge of his marital bed. Only in her black satin slip and panties, the latter were quickly discarded. She licked her bruised lip when she heard him unbuckling his belt, the rustling of fabric preceding his hand slipping between her folds, his fingers feeling the slick that already coated her pussy. 

She shuddered at the sensation of him rubbing her clit, and as she gripped the comforter she lay on, she silently determined that if she couldn’t get her pleasure from anyone but him going forward, she’d make sure it was on her terms. She loved sex, which was acceptable for mistresses but apparently not for wives, as the act was then relegated for procreation rather than pleasure. She didn’t see why they couldn't have both.

Michael grabbed Gloria’s hips, and she steeled herself as he pushed his cock inside her, his thrusts deep and slow until she growled, “Harder. I’m not gonna break.”

Her nails dug into the soft fabric beneath her, clawing at it as her back arched, cat-like as she took him deeper, his pace unforgiving, her cries of pleasure filling the room. He had jokingly accused her of being a masochist in the past. She never outright denied it.

“Is this what you wanted all night?” he forced out through gritted teeth.

Her moan wasn’t a good enough response, as he slapped her ass, sending a jolt through her.

“Answer me.”

“I always want you.”

“Only me.”

“Only you.”

With that, he came inside of her, and she humped the bed for that extra bit of friction on her clit, feeling her own orgasm achingly close as she felt his seed filling her. Biting her barely healed lip finally sent her over the edge, and she buried her face in the comforter, lifting it a few moments after riding out her orgasm on Michael’s cock to see a stain of blood, spit, and mascara. 

She whimpered when he pulled out of her, her pussy still throbbing from her climax. With aching muscles, she crawled up the mattress, leaning against the neatly made pillows. He undressed, his gaze fixed on her he joined her on the bed, pulling her against his chest, still slightly heaving from the exertion.

“What got into you?” he asked, amusement in his eyes.

“Besides you?” she joked before speaking her next words carefully, ever so manipulatively, “I know we’ve been trying for the baby, but can’t it at least be fun?”

He smiled, kissing the crown of her head. “I don’t see why not.”

After that night, she increasingly split her time between the hotel and his house, slowly getting to know his family better. Carmela was still icy to Gloria when she was able to make it over to the house. Those instances became more scarce, until she could only take so many visitors at her home until one evening in late spring, she passed away.

Melancholy swept over the family at the loss of their beloved mother and grandmother. Gloria regretted not having the time to build a better relationship with the woman, but the more selfish part of her lamented that she would be expected to take up the matriarchal mantle so soon, something she neither desired nor felt prepared for.

“You look beautiful, darling,” Michael murmured, helping her clasp the gold necklace her grandmother had given her for her confirmation, the pendant of the Blessed Mother resting just above her collarbone.

They stood in his bedroom, preparing for the funeral mass and wake that were sure to bring in dozens of people to the cemetery and Corleone compound.

She turned around, forehead wrinkled in concern. “This is about you and your family. I’m not sure if I should even be there.”

“Enough of this, Gloria. You’re going to be my wife, that makes you part of this too,” he said. “There are going to be a lot of people here today, some very important. I need you with me. We need to show strength and solidarity right now.”

“Alright, I—you’re right, Michael,” she said. 

Gloria grabbed her black, lace gloves off the dresser, carefully sliding them onto her hands, though she hadn’t noticed until later at the funeral mass that her engagement ring had torn through the delicate fabric.

[bonefall]

What the heck are the humans doing in TNP

This will come up in the Bonefall TNP notes that are coming up, but it's worth a little preview since it's from the perspective of the cats who have NO IDEA that this means.

So here's what the humans are actually doing to the Forest Territory.

WindClan

-First territory to be destroyed; not actually part of the development

-the rabbit poisoning is noted by the cats to be unusual, rabbits near the farms are often poisoned but NEVER this far out

-they are able to figure out that their extermination is intentional. The humans weren't going after the rabbits; WindClan was their target all along

-What they DON'T know is that the human developers are working with sheep farmers nearby. It's going to be a BIG problem if the cats get in the way of development and they aren't aware Clan cats have factions.

-Moorland can be grazed by sheep, but the farmers don't want to risk their livestock near a feral cat colony, knowing rumors of the mountain cats further north which are suspected of killing sheep.

-Illegally poaching WindClan is the 'best' option for both parties

ThunderClan

-Simple enough: The area is being logged and clean cut.

-the first warning sign the cats notice is the Tallpines being clean cut; the land there was sold to the Developers

-The Development Company is building more suburban housing

-THIS WAS ACTUALLY VERY UNPOPULAR

-Druid's Leap was a popular hiking trail and the White Hart woods was a small, managed forest.

-Unbeknowst to the Clans, there was a massive pushback in the town, which was why the Development Company was ready to listen to the sheep farmers about dealing with the feral cat colony before it caused problems

-and then Speckletail Caused Problems

-THAT was when animal control came in, looking to humanely remove the feral cats. It's very likely they would have been relocated; but the Clan cats wouldn't know that

-a lot of the town was actually very sympathetic to the feral colony that lives out there. The Clans aren't famous like Cat Island, nor are they something you go to the woods to watch or anything, but they're Known by the locals.

-kinda hard to ignore the little patrols that run every dawn, noon, and dusk. Sometimes glimpses are caught of a warrior taking some garden catmint.

-it would actually make sense for the cats who escape that van to raise eyebrows in the Animal Control agents. "James did that cat just unlatch a cage? Bit odd innit?"

ShadowClan

-I keep trying to find resources on where to learn more about the life cycle of British Tips vs American Landfills but I can't find shit. You're all going to have to just bear with me on this lmao

-If you're a British Garbageperson... british rubbishman... idk what you call the dudes who take your trash... you can beat me to death if you want but I will explode in your compactor like a lithium battery, so just keep that in mind.

-I have more knowledge on conservation than urban planning OTL

-ANYWAY because the new housing is being built in the southernmost strip, it would get close to the Carrionplace (northallerton amenity tip)

-So the Dump is being sealed up and moved northeast.

-Assuming that Carrionplace is a landfill; it's sealed up with a layer of plastic, then clay, then topsoil.

-ShadowClan territory, a wetland, is going to get filled in. Suddenly it's incredibly hard to hunt, any trees will get felled.

-It's possible the south of the territory has more pine than marsh which means the bulldozing of the camp can stay.

-However it could also Animal Control, or just lumberjacks cleancutting the ShadowClan cedars.

RiverClan

The last ones to be affected.

-The construction disturbs a lot of the soil around the banks, and disturbs fish and wildlife.

-I may have the construction crew do some illegal dumping just for the dramatic effect of having the lake be visibly muddy instead of just unproductive

-I'll be honest, aside from the disturbance of fish and wildlife, realistically there wouldn't be much change to the river. I could get into the very specific way that England fucked their rivers in the Victorian era by trying to straighten them, but that wouldn't really apply to a suburban construction project.

-Damming the River could also make an interesting ecological impact.

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober 6

Poached Egg Clip Studio Paint, Gouache Brush, 5 colors, 10 minutes. Had a small emergency yesterday and had to forgo the egg. Nothing major, everyone important to me is safe and sound, but it was just the kind of day that warranted putting the art aside to help out. Today was better. But I’m cashing in my right to do a simple egg. I adore poached eggs, and my original plan was to give the poached egg(s?) I saw from other folks and my own Eggs Benedict have a few days of breathing room to really shine, but since I’m playing catch up today, I decided this one would be quick. No focusing in on the little folds that happen with a home-made poached egg where the white gets wrinkly. No fancy stuff like the bit of the yolk you can usually see through the egg. Just essence of egg and everything I adore about them. Springy whites and luscious, runny yolk. Impression of egg if you will. My egg for today (10/7/2022) will be up soon too, since I’m diving right into it after this one. Happy Eggtober, everyone, and thanks again to @quezify for organizing a chill event for us all to shine. Other Inktober events were always so stressful to just think about that I never bothered, but eggs... Eggs are just comfort and I love the environment here where we all just pop in whenever to share a love of eggs and egg art. Might write a little something deeper about what eggs mean to me on Halloween to wrap this whole event up! But for now, enjoy a simple poached egg.

[thetrespasserfrontier]

RETURN TO THE LOST WORLD

(This is a short(ish?) story I am working on, a sequel to Michael Crichton's second JP novel, The Lost World. Basic premise is that Levine and Malcolm are returning to the island by themselves. Sort of coming up with the plot as I go.)

APARTMENT

BEEP--BEEP--BEEP-- The alarm sounded. A startled bird flew off, making a short ruckus outside the window. A hand emerged from under the covers, fumbling absently for the source of the loud noise. BEEP--BEEP-- Richard Levine found the button, turned off his digital alarm. He rolled over to look up at the idle ceiling fan, stretching his arms out. He'd thought about waking early this morning, considering his plans for the day. But no, he'd decided, the morning routine would do fine as always.

Getting out of bed, he straightened the sheets before going over to the dresser. Inside, various socks, arranged by color. He selected the grey ones, set them on the bed. Then a red shirt, khaki pants, black leather boots. He began to think as he put them on, his studies from the previous night reentering his mind. Predator-prey relations, crepuscular activities of modern animals. Coming into the dining room, he saw Romelia had prepared breakfast as always. Poached eggs, herb-baked potatoes, steaming early grey tea. He sat down to eat, continuing his thoughts. A crow landed on a branch outside his window. He noticed the scaled legs, the sharp claws. A fitting visit for a day like this, he mused over a sip of tea. Finishing and setting the plate aside, he picked up a book from the end table. The Fauna of East Africa. A helpful recommendation of Sarah Harding's. No sooner than he opened to the page he'd left off on, the phone rang. Sighing, he set the book down, picked up the receiver. "Levine." A familiar voice answered. "Good morning Richard. Ready for our flight this afternoon?" It was Ian Malcolm. Wonderful sense of timing as always. Levine glanced at the antique grandfather clock in the corner. "At seven o'clock in the morning, I suppose so. Our flight to Costa Rica doesn't leave for another seven and a half hours." "Don't forget," Malcolm chided, "we have to go over the final details with Doctor Thorne at nine." Levine hid his annoyance from his voice. "I'm not senile. Of course I remember. I'll be there." He paused. "It's a shame Sarah didn't want to accompany us this time. I'd love to hear her perspectives on the predator-prey relations we're to study." Malcolm chuckled. "I think Sarah is satisfied that mammals are her area, after her last visit." Levine sighed. "I'm sure you're right. A smaller team is probably for the best, this time. By the way is there any more word on Costa Rica's search for the source of the aberrant forms?" "Not directly. But recently there seems to be a sudden hush-hush on the subject. I'm fearing the worst; they may be planning something." "Hmm. A disturbing development. I suppose our expedition to Isla Sorna is well-timed, then." "Seems that way. Well, I have some things to finish up. See you at the garage." "See you there." Levine hung up, reflected a moment. It was unfortunate to be in a rush on such a sensitive matter. The study of these animals deserved time and patience, not a race against a second possible extinction. But then, he should be happy to have the chance at all. The video feeds from InGen's outdoor cameras were really a poor vantage from which to study what was probably the world's only extant population of Dinosauria.

Levine opened his book again and began to read. Just as he reached an explanation for male lions domining over multiple prides, the phone rang again. With a sigh of frustration, he set the book down and picked up the phone again. "Eh-hem. Levine here." "It's Thorne. How's your morning?" "Well. It would be fine, if my phone were not constantly interrupting my attempts to finish The Fauna of East Africa before leaving my apartment for two weeks. What is so pressing that it can't wait until my arrival this morning?" "Nothing major. Just that there are a few more details to go over with you and Ian than I thought. I'd like the two of you to come over at eight-thirty, if it's not too much trouble." Levine sighed. "I suppose that's fine. At this rate I might as well bring the book on the plane. I'll see you at eight-thirty, then." "Thanks, Richard." Thorne hung up.

* * *

As Levine prepared to leave, he gazed at the corkboard on his wall. Much of it was as he'd left it before his first visit to the island. Hints about a lost world and the whereabouts of Site B. There were of course some additions; aberrant forms had continued to wash ashore in Costa Rica and elsewhere, which he'd made sure to keep tabs on. The radio tag he'd sent to Malcolm rested in a plastic baggie, also pinned to the board. Most notable though was an article he'd found online, detailing Costa Rica's continued closure of offshore islands to tourists, with the strange note that their re-opening was expected in under a year. It troubled Levine more than he was willing to admit. He'd been relieved to be successful in procuring permission for a helicopter flight to the island, okayed on the basis of having research purposes, even though he and Ian had later decided to hire a private boat instead. After thinking a moment, he unpinned the article from the board to bring it with him and show it to Malcolm. He grabbed his suitcase, his new safari jacket, his hat, and left to drive his Ferrari to Thorne's garage.

[incubabe]

There's trouble to building your luxurious battle resort at the foot of a volcano, especially an active one -- eventually, it goes off. While the board at first tried to wave away rumors of tremors and increased volcanic activity as just that, eventually a report from the Pan-Japanese Survey Initiative put paid to doubt. The ever-huffy Mt. Stark, so long threatening, was about to blow, and forget losing the Battle Frontier, Veilstone and the local League -- Hell, everything east of the Coronet range was in risk of being wiped out.

Naturally, this was bigger than the Battle Frontier. Complete suppression of the eruption was considered impossible, and after developing a task force between Frontier Brains and Sinnohian Gym Leaders, a plan of mitigation was set into motion. Suppression was impossible, and would only lead to bigger issues down the line even if successful. That sucker had to blow; it was just a question of how hard.

Pokemon with resistance to super-hot temperatures were used to dig pressure-relieving tunnels, just short of magma's pyroclastic flow, with the aim of leaving behind a thin layer for Stark to penetrate and create tributaries. Forcing the mountain to erupt with a whimper, not a boom. This would grant some precious time before step two, which involved a mass appeal for trainers to temporarily transfer their Heatran to the task force, given that the local population had migrated to parts unknown. Other Pokemon such as Camerupt and Moltres were requested as well, but the conspiracy mills were well on their way.

Heatran Migration Planned By Sinnoh Elite! Just another rumor to add to the unhinged icebergs of the world, to set in the mid tier above "research by the disgraced Galactic Initiative created the modern Rotom Phone" but below "the Frontier is a front for organized gambling."

Though the preliminary efforts were promising, they were by no means a guarantee. In time, the ancient elemental Regi-golem Pokemon were gathered to Snowpoint Temple, where Regi-gigas could be called upon. Its invoked aspect, subdued in battle by the Sinnoh Champion, was brought to Mt. Stark. This joint herculean effort ultimately paid off -- the mountain erupted in a calm and safe manner.

The Battle Frontier was ruined, of course, buried under lava, but everything essential had been disassembled and taken away. Mt. Stark has since rejoined the Sinnoh mainland through subduction, though its adjoining basalt land is currently classified as a disaster zone and is off limits without government permission. Its lava flow continues at a gentle bubble to this day.

With the threat mediated, the Frontier's board returned to what was most important: makin' money. Needed to rebuild the Frontier before people lost interest and their talent got poached away -- and to avoid the risks of regional phenomena inhibiting service again. Deals were struck: one with the Aether Foundation for co-use of their proprietary artificial island technology, and with Stern Shipyard Co to make the new Frontier truly without borders. With what could be salvaged from the Mt. Stark location, construction of the mobile island VLFS Frontier took just under two years. The new Battle Frontier was not only a resort, but a mobile mini-city drifting through the oceans of the world.

During the down time, the capricious noble Caitlin's interest waned, and no longer satisfied with second-hand battling, she was poached by the Unovan Elite Four. The space set aside for the Battle Castle was instead earmarked for the Battle Pike, where the experienced leader from Hoenn, Lucy, took their place as Pike Master. Though some critics considered their Pike too similar to Dahlia's Arcade, Frontier aficionados delight in the difference sin feel and atmosphere between them. Negotiations to additionally poach the Battle Pyramid's head fell through when it came to light that said Pyramid would have to be at least partially underwater. Hall Matron Argenta has privately announced her intention to retire, though not before properly preparing a successor. Among the suggestions considered include a facility run by former Gym Leaders Candace and Maylene themed around survival in extreme conditions, but nothing has been set in stone.

Additionally, during the restructuring, the GDPR came into effect -- a set of privacy laws that restructured the way corporations could collect data. This profoundly cramped Factory Head Thorton's style, as it made the Pokemon scanning devices he used illegal. He would condemn and generally make himself the main character online for some time until he was asked to resign. As a result, one of the administrators of the Factory, an accountant who had been understudying for Thorton for several months when he was too 'busy' to serve as Head, took on the position. Her changes include eliminating single battles entirely, changing the focus to adaptability and synergy between random Pokemon.

As such, this leaves the Battle Frontier with five brains -- Tower Tycoon Palmer, Arcade Star Dahlia, Hall Matron Argenta (pending retirement), Pike Master Lucy, and Factory Chief Cross.

Currently, the island “ports” a few miles outside major regional clusters, offering free transportation to accredited local trainers. A completely self sufficient environment, the Frontier is carbon neutral and releases no waste into local host environments thanks to an in-depth recycling system and a tireless sanitation innovation team. Despite the “international waters” that it travels, the Frontier follows all local laws and will liaise with Interpol for extradition if necessary.

Tangentially: The Battle Frontier bans region-specific phenomena as a matter of course, regardless of their feasibility on the premises. Whether it be mega-evolution, Z-Crystals, sync-stones, Terastallization, or Dynamax, such phenomena either simply won't work in the Frontier facilities or will result in an immediate disqualification. (Trainers possessing an exceptional battle-bond with their partners are allowed, reluctantly.) The idea is to create an environment where the pinnacle of battling can be achieved -- but specifically the pinnacle of battle anywhere in the world, with no losses due to "gotchas" or simply unknown knowledge. (Now, this doesn't always work due to the natural opportunity cost of regional Pokemon, but it is at least theoretically possible.)

This is also why some Pokemon are classified as 'restricted' -- those not intensely studied by recognized professors to Pokedex classification. Really, it comes down to two reasons -- the Frontier Brains need to know the basics of the Pokemon they're facing for exciting battles, and the Frontier needs to know the capabilities of those Pokemon should they go out of control.

[youllallriseintheink]

1. What's each Pokemon villain's favorite and least favorite smells? 2. How would they react to Stunky/Skuntank? 3. What do they do in their spare time?

I appreciate the enthusiasm, but one question at a time, please! These do take me a while. I’ll do “what they do in their spare time.” :)

Giovanni: Giovanni is very busy with running his criminal empire and his gym, and honestly doesn’t mind spending so much of his time working because it’s varied work and he gets a lot of joy out of it. That being said, everyone has to get away sometimes. When he needs a vacation, he’ll take his yacht out to sea for a few days to relax, read, sunbathe, and so on.

Silver: before he was on his Pokémon journey, he was on his school’s basketball team and flitted in and out of various school clubs while trying to figure himself out and find a way to feel powerful. He also did some shoplifting, vandalism and other petty crimes during that period to see what he could get away with. Giovanni got him out of trouble the one time he was caught. He also enjoys mountain biking.

Maxie: Maxie likes things that calm him down and take his mind off work. A nice, long walk in the countryside with his camerupt. Curling up with a hot drink and a good book. Visiting his more free-spirited friends. Stuff like that.

Archie: big into sailing, often with members of his team. He likes going sailing far into the ocean and swimming with his water-based Pokémon. He’s a very social person and spends many evenings out at bars with his friends. Aside from that, he loves to bake, but shh don’t tell anyone. He also definitely works out.

Cyrus: His favourite hobby is stargazing. He could tell you an endless amount about astronomy or about astronomical events he’s travelled to see, but don’t ask to come with him- it’s his time to enjoy some silence and solitude. Aside from that, he enjoys tinkering with machines. There aren’t a lot of devices in his home that he hasn’t taken apart and put back together, likely with some alterations. He also researches various topics for the heck of it. Falling down a “Sinnoh Myths” research rabbit hole is part of how he realized that he could turn his far-fetched wish to rid the world of emotion into a concrete plan.

N: is pretty limited in what he can do thanks to Ghetsis. Materially, Ghetsis gives N essentially whatever he wants so that N feels like he’s lucky and privileged, so N has a lot of toys he can play with, and he often does while lost in thought. The exception to this is media like books and games- Ghetsis is very careful about what media N is taking in so that he doesn’t wake up to how abnormal his upbringing is. N enjoys fantasy novels and video games, and one of the first things he did once he was allowed to travel independently was to go to a library. He also has a lot of Pokémon to care for and play with. A few times a week, Ghetsis takes N to the secluded wild area he was found in so that he can enjoy nature and visit the Pokémon he spent his early years with.

Ghetsis: He’s good friends with the rest of the Seven Sages, and they enjoy having little private parties and gossiping together about Team Plasma’s goings-on. He also enjoys spending time at the gun range, and has had the privilege to do some hunting (and possibly poaching) in other regions. He definitely has a room with taxidermy hunting trophies in it. Aside from that, he’s a fan of theatre.

Lysandre: Lysandre has a taste for the finer things in life. Good restaurants, good art, fancy vacations, things like that. He loves fashion and spends a lot of time and money keeping up with trends. He also spends a lot of time on the care of his Pokémon. In addition to the team he uses for battling, he keeps like half a dozen litleo as pets and loves brushing and playing with them.

Guzma: Guzma spends a lot of his free time with his team, and those guys party hard- lots of drinking, lots of dancing to loud music, driving dangerously in the empty streets at 2 AM, street races, etc. Guzma works out, and puts time into honing his skills and his style. He can physically fight, and do it well. He can dance, and do it well. He also likes just chilling with his golisopod (and maybe Plumeria) and watching movies.

Lusamine: has a fondness for fashion. In addition to being a bit of a shopaholic, she’s able to upcycle old clothes through her skills in sewing and embroidery (though many of her attempted creations go in the garbage- Lusamine has very exacting standards). This is how Gladion picked up the ability to patch his own clothes. Ever into beautifying her environment, Lusamine also knows a lot about interior design, and, in addition to any real-life application she can find for those skills, enjoys online games that let her design pretty houses and the like.

Piers: no surprises here, Piers is dedicated to his music. It’s where the majority of his free time goes, and a good deal of the time he should be spending asleep. Marnie and his other family members have dissuaded him from practicing at night, but he will stay up late going to concerts for fun and for inspiration for his own shows, performing at his own, or getting his lyrics just right. It’s basically his calling, his second job and his obsession. He also likes drawing. He’s not very good at it, though, so he doesn’t show anyone other than Marnie.

Rose: frequently attends sports events, both Pokémon-related and otherwise. He’s also into film critique and gardening.

[notoriousbeb]

Taylor Swift Tarot Card Readings Masterlist | Part 2

August 2023

July 2023

[spooniechef]

The Dinner Diaries Day 6 - Improvement (French toast and poached sea bass; 1 spoon each)

Minor improvement today, in that I produced two actual meals! At least part of it was my desperately wanting a treat, and deciding to go for French toast. I used to make my French toast incredibly basic, but I decided to play around with the "milk / egg / bread / fry / drown in maple syrup" model that my parents taught me. Now, most of the recipes I'm finding for French toast are for multiple people; I'm going to provide my recipe for one. Well, technically French toast and bacon, but ... well, I'll get to that in notes.

Here's what you'll need:

4-6 slices bacon

2-3 slices of bread

1 large egg

3-4 tablespoons milk

Little splash of vanilla extract

Pinch of cinnamon

Pinch of brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon granulated sugar

Now, bacon's good in and of itself, but it also produces enough bacon grease to cook the French toast in, adding a richness to the flavour. But if you're a vegetarian, or can't eat pork for some other reason, just ignore the bacon step and use a teaspoon or two of vegetable oil, or a pat of butter, for frying.

Here's what you do:

Fry your bacon; when crispy, remove from pan and set aside on paper towel (or, if skipping the bacon, add vegetable oil / butter to pan and heat

Add egg, milk, vanilla, cinnamon, and both sugars to a bowl; whisk well

Dip bread into the egg mixture; drop into hot pan for 3-5 minutes or until golden brown on both sides

Serve (with bacon if made)

So that was my brunch. Fairly late brunch, but brunch regardless.

After that, I had plans for clearing various of the meats out of my freezer. I had sea bass, and I decided to do something fairly simple with that. I could have just baked it, but I decided to poach it instead. Hence, recipe the second.

Here's what you'll need:

2 sea bass fillets (or other white fish)

3 cups vegetable stock

1 onion, sliced

4-6 cloves garlic, minced

1-2 tablespoons lemon juice

Seasonings to taste

For the seasonings, I stuck with celery salt, garlic pepper, and a couple of chilli flakes, but like most things, it's all down to what you like. I tend to tart it up a bit because when I was a kid, my mother used to poach fish in nothing but water, a slice of lemon and some celery, and I like something a little livelier. Hence the vegetable stock.

Here's what you do:

In a deep frying pan, bring vegetable stock, onion, garlic, and lemon juice to the boil

Add sea bass fillets; reduce heat and simmer on medium heat for about 10 minutes.

This one's best with rice, because it can absorb the flavoured-up broth, but I couldn't be bothered with boiling rice today so I went with a baked potato instead. Though I did add some frozen broccoli to the pan while poaching the fish, which gave that a nice flavour too. So maybe add whatever veg you're having with the meal to the stock as well.

Honestly, given I was dragged out of bed way earlier than I wanted to be (workmen put up scaffolding right out side my windows and the management company did not warn me about this, which is irritating), managing two meals when underslept and cranky is some kind of miracle. Still, zero-spoon recipes make the miraculous possible, so it's good to have a large collection of those.

Snack midway between those meals involved a can of peaches.

[sabik-sphinx]

Ermm just another callout post

scroll past if you don’t want drama teehee

Callout on @/tempnezz aka Isnezzed a popular NSR artist well known for his Mystery Man artwork. Is accusing me of general abuse and animal abuse. Making this callout because he is practically dragging my name thru the mud and hurting my reputation. So I want clear up the accusations and explain his narcissistic behavior.

accusation #1 - I abuse animals including his rabbit

Just want to start out on the animal abuse accusation. Claiming that I abuse his rabbit and kick it for fun. Getting this out of the way, it is false, shocker. 

He gets irrationally angry if I even touch his rabbit. He would catch me doing this and physically attack me, and say shit like ‘how would you like it if i kicked your cat?’ or ‘i’m going to kill your cat!’. One instance he sprayed me with cleaning chemicals and my skin had a burning sensation for the rest of the day.

For context, he lets his rabbit roam around our house unsupervised. I’ve seen this rabbit hop onto my bed, which I find unsanitary. As well as my cats litterbox. It even used to hop onto the kitchen countertop and knock over the trashcan, yuck. which he doesn’t care if it gets into these things. I take it upon myself to keep the rabbit out of places it’s not supposed to be. I gently nudge it with a stick or rod. This does not hurt the animal at all. I guide it out of these areas, like the litterbox or my bed. You can’t just tell it to get out. Reason why he claims I kick it because sometimes when I don’t have an object to guide the rabbit, I use my feet.

Ironically, I was the one spending a good chunk of my day with this rabbit, teaching it tricks when we brought it home. Because it was in another room and wasn’t receiving attention from him. Also, accusing me of abusing animals when THIS is how he houses the rabbit now.

EDIT: this is another argument he uses to convince people that I abuse animals, is that I collect animal hides and skulls. While yes, I do collect these things, they're done ethically. Most of the skulls I have are natural finds or waste from hunters. The hides I just buy online. Sometimes I do hunt and process my own animals. God forbid, I know. Say what you want about hunting. As long as it's within the law and the kill is ethical, it is not animal abuse. I am against trophy hunting and poaching.

she’s even in the photo for proof lol. But yeah, guess i’m the one who’s abusing animals...

Note: the rabbit isn’t spayed nor does he plan to spay her. He wants to buy another rabbit to breed with his, HELLLL NO. I got kicked from his lil friend group when he brought this up. I told him ‘no more animals’. Bro already abandoned 2 dogs and a cat because he got bored of them after a year. Not to mention his previous dog was sent to a rescue for animal neglect.

Accusation #2- I physically and verbally abuse him.

Uno reverse on this accusation as well. I only hit him if he throws the first punch, I go by eye for an eye. lol anyways, he would start physical fights with me over minor inconveniences, like me being in the kitchen for too long or taking too long in the bathroom. He is physically weak so I hit him back and tell him to knock it off. This works for getting him to stop attacking me. He’ll go back to his room, cry to his friends, and tell them that I abused him. Average child behavior. he’s an adult 

That is how this rumor started.

On verbal abuse, i don’t know how this one came to be since I haven’t spoken or texted him in months aside from a couple short sentences here and there. Yeah Uno reverse on this too, he’s been EXTREMLY verbally abusive towards me. Whenever he sees me he calls me a ‘nasty bitch’ or ‘retarded’ etc etc. And it’s every. single day. Again, I don’t speak to him in person. Although I used to stream on discord and he would come in when no-one else is there and say shit like ‘nobody in the server likes you or wants you there’ ‘you’re an animal abuser and everybody knows it!’. Very passive aggressive in real life as well.

Generic spamming me in DM’s. I have nothing to add here.

Again flooding my DM’s. For context, I don’t have him blocked on discord because he’s not able to use his phone anymore so discord is the only communication he has with me incase of an emergency. 

‘and you weren’t banned from the server you left on your own they already told me, so why you gotta be mad bout it’ OKay, I left one server because he was abusing his mod power on me. (Average discord mod) And the admin didn’t give a shit. BUT I was banned from another server he was in. And i’m not mad about it.

‘stop dragging people into drama’ This is the only time i’m bringing this up. How tf am I supposed to stay silent when there’s a smear campaign against me.

He posted this yesterday for sympathy for i’m going to break it down. He’s the type of person who likes to play victim for everything. Like I stated before, he starts a fight, you hit him back, you’re the abuser, he’s the victim. 

I can explain the ‘low blood sugar moment’ because I was there, wow. It was 4am and everyone’s trying to sleep, he starts complaining that he has low blood sugar and didn’t grab anything while he was in the kitchen. He woke my mother up and begged her to give him something to eat, she refused and told him to get food himself since his room is right outside the kitchen. And so, he started complaining that we didn’t care if he died and whatnot.

‘they want to get rid of me’ He’s insufferable to be around. Honestly, you could just breath and he would call you names. tho i wouldn’t breath around him since he only ever showers once a month.

‘my rabbit being harmed, being physically hurt’ already went over this so I have nothing to add here.

‘fam knows my socials’ No they don’t, only I do. He got upset when he found out our mother made a twitter account because she finds the memes on there to be funnier than facebook. He complained to her that she only made an account to ‘stalk him’. He begged that she’d give him her account name so he can block her. Of course, she refused. So now he thinks his family is stalking him lol

That’s my side of the story since he went around to all his friends who also used to friends with me to mass unfollow and accuse me of doing all these horrible things. No one questioned him and just went along with it. ‘A narcissist will show you who your true friends are’, and clearly these people were not my friends.

the rest is for sympathy. 

I also want to add one more thing. He received 3 gifts during Christmas. 2 sweatpants and a hoodie from his mother. I received one more gift than he did. He got extremely upset by this, that he returned both sweatpants to his mother and remained in his room for the rest of the holiday. Just a couple days ago he took the hoodie mother gifted him and tore it up in front of her and threw it in the trash. I don’t know what prompted this or why he did it, but it goes to show how ungrateful he truly is. 

That is all i’m going to put. There is much much more like him stalking minor for 4 years- that I won’t write down otherwise this would end up being a novel. I’ll save that for another day, who knows.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Yes saga of rhythem morphs and Damnus

YES thank you bear for enabling me!!

So! Before we can get to Damus, we have to lay the groundwork of all rhythomorphs: the planet of Eurythma. It's a canonical part of the commonwealth of Cybertron's empire, and almost everything in its society revolves around music. After the historic bombing of Megatron's first hive that kicked off the war, he realized that he needed a failsafe. Or rather, multiple failsafes. As it stood at the time, he was the only one capable of continuing their species, the only queen caste in existence. If he died, the whole cybermorph species would be doomed to extinction.

Cue some experimentation and excessive research and the discovery of the royal jelly sacs, and exactly what they had the power to do. There were at the time only 2 other variants of morphs, aside from the standard baseline (those being cybermorphs spawned from and possessing warframe like qualities). Those were the civimorphs and vosimorphs, and he began planning to convert his very best children into queens for each type. But there needed to be more. Their hive was gone and they were an endangered species: as soon as he was able, he sent some of his best praetorians and warriors offworld with as many drone eggs as they could carry, to go find other place with viable incubators to act as failsafe locations... as well as to expand their gene pool. The more varied they were, the more dangerous they would become, the more of an edge they'd have over their enemies. There were several noteworthy planets little protohives began cropping up on, even the famous Velocitron, but the focus here is Eurythma.

The morphs landed on Eurythma after the war had already been going on for several centuries, and swiftly established a hive beneath their largest citystate. Poaching as many healthy specimens as they could to start making drones, and keeping an eye out for any of exceptional quality (healthy and strong enough to withstand a chestburster), to ship back to Cybertron. Drones are remarkably similar to the queen they come from regardless of who incubates them: i.e. all of the first several generations of drones were just derivatives of Megatron and his will. Nothing to write home about. That was precisely why it was so important to net a high quality native to send back to the queen: to fertilize his eggs and create the first proper rhythomorphs.

Unlike all their siblings, rhythomorphs don't really have any oustanding physical giveaways for their subspecies. Vosimorphs of course have their four wings, civimorphs are slight statured and stealthy, velocimorphs are streamlined with rotatable joints. Not rhythomorphs. Their specialty is an internal thing: music is baked into every Eurythmics very spark. The rhythomorphs reflect this, with their voices being hypnotic. They are sirens in the truest sense: their melodies brainwash mecha and turn them complacent, removing the will to fight and paralyzing them where they stand. No one has ever been able to resist a rhythomorphs siren call. A single note is all it takes, and once they've taken you into their control, that's it. Game over. They're arguably the most dangerous morphs of all, due to their extreme long range to incapacitate and control.

And who better to be the rhythomorph queen, then the mech with the magic ability to talk people to death?

Damus was one of the first intentionally concieved royal embryos. Megatron spent weeks consciously creating his perfect rhythomorph sparkling, disappearing from the battlefield entirely to retreat to the deepest most unreachable depths of Cybertron, near the core itself. He always went as deep as possible for the laying of royal eggs, to make the chance of losing them to autobot violence negligible. Damus hatched there with the finest Eurythmic incubator they could find after scouring the entire planet. He, and every royal embryo after him, was hatched there near the core of the planet, bathed in Allspark radiation and tended to by the Queen Mother himself.

After he was stable enough to be away from his carrier, he was sent to Eurythma and taken directly to the heart of their hive, which now encompassed about a quarter of the planet's underground. He'd grow up there, guarded by praetorians and countless drones, and upon reaching adulthood would be Megatron's most devoted child to date. He was so eager to take up his mother's mantle and help finish the war and especially to expand their family, as is his duty as a queen.

For a very long time, Damus prospers. The rhythomorph hive is in full swing and now has spread to a whopping 80% of the planet. He's pumping out eggs as fast as he can, up to 100 in a single day, making siren-voiced and nearly breaking his body. It's hard work but he loves his hive with everything he has, and is so proud to be serving the Queen Mother this way. They swiftly become an inconquerable threat on Cybertron: they have to start fighting deaf, which severely complicates things. The autobots were already fighting a losing battle and the rhythomorphs seemed to just be the nail in coffin: it was decided that dire measures would have to be taken.

The autobots essentially send a suicide squad on steroids, mecha who've had the majority of their energon replaced with everything you need to make a series of nuclear fusion bombs. They send them to Eurythma specifically to be captured and dragged down to the hive's heart, where the queen lies in wait with his eggs. They're expected to be impregnated and strung up to the walls, and only then do they release the gauges stopping them from vaporizing the whole planet. Yes, you read that right: the whole planet. Eurythma was written off as a lost cause, and there was no way for them to evacuate anyone still stuck there. A necessary evil, in their eyes, to take out the vast majority of the rhythomorphs and to destroy their unknown queen.

The whole planet is destroyed in the massive explosion. Don't ask me how Damus survives. Cybermorph queens are even more indestructible than their praetorians and drones, and perhaps his loyal guards transformed around him to protect him. Maybe the universe is just cruel  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He ends up floating in space surrounded by the desecrated body parts of all his children and siblings, alone and badly injured. He drifts through the void for... he doesn't know how long. It feels like an eternity. When he finally hits a tiny, lifeless asteroid, there is no light in his optics. He is shocked, he is numb, he feels nothing. It's all over. Everything is gone. He burrows under the surface of the insignificant little space rock and, running on instinctual autopilot, settles in to lay more eggs. It's only natural. He has to rebuild. Reclaim what was lost. He has to make more drones, and- and then he'll be able to... to fix things, right?

Uhhh, yeah. Wrong.

He's so deeply traumatized that his body's entered a state of self inflicted sterility. No matter how much he wills it or tries to make it happen, the eggs won't come. They won't develop, not a single drone. He can't. Once he realizes that he has another mental breakdown because he's well and truly worthless. A queen that can't continue his hive, what a joke. What's the point of his life, then?

He lays down to die in his little burrow on the asteroid, shutting down cybermorph protocols that were converting energy in his body from the light of stars or cosmic dust, anything that could be absorbed that was barely enough to keep him alive all this time. He intends to starve himself into stasis lock, and let his spark extinguish while he's in a coma. The rhythomorph queen sings as he lays there, a wordless song of grief and misery and mourning.

Im gonna stop here cuz my thumbs hurt from typing and this is LONG. But 👀 there is much, much more to his story, so 👀👀 if anyone wants to know what happens after this, you know what to do

[stresshyperdeath]

Did I ever tell the story of when I left a TTRPG discord server? It paints me as a bit lame, but I'll tell it anyhow. So, one fated day when I was struck with some bad sex repulsion. So, I went onto that discord server to write about my usual nonsense. Lo and behold, there were some people were being horny on main. Nothing particularly fancy, but when they got going it got to grating levels, and that day the sex repulsion was inflicting me in a most dire way, so I up and left it quite passive aggressively. Now, me showing off my certified "lame guy" card aside, the kicker comes in someone on my friend's list in that server who tried to poach me to join their private rpg server. I did not understand what their game plan was, but they made an attempt to goad me into joining by mentioning it was an ERP server. This was the same day that I got my jorts in a twist over people being horny on a public server, by the way. So, I inform them that I'm acespec and that some days I would like to ignore the miasma of other's ambient lust as a way to dissuade further conversation. I know not what drove them to simply reply by stating that asexuals have kinks too, followed by insistent prodding of what mine were. I applaud the audacity, but what was the game plan homie?

[flange5]

1of2 first, i hope your medical stuff works out, and your kitties forgive you. 2nd, a mortifying question, but: tumblr, what else is it for! so my hobbyist scrapping: www tumblr com/rfpreiwaphase/737374198868148224/heres-a-conference-from-2021 - only the 2nd rb is relevant, just displaying How Feral. fanworks aside, i decided i *do* want to learn this. but-if the subject might flag me as 'requesting abt pregnancy and my state is fascist af?' how does one cold-call a prof + 'i need to be anon'?

First, thank you! I'm not looking forward to it as it's my first surgery and is a fairly serious one, on the other hand, when an innard misbehaves and sends you to the hospital twice in 6 months, it gets evicted to become an outtard. Good riddance. Hopefully, I'll be up and ready for the semester :/

As for your inquiry, I've had some similar ones before, both for articles or book chapters, and for conference talks. It's a fairly polite but not too onerous request. You mention that you're personally really interested in X topic, and that you were intrigued/excited/etc. when you came across the title/abstract of X talk for x reason, and wonder if there's a way to access the paper (if the conference was recorded (a lot of sessions are, now), or if they are able to share the talk with you in any format, or if they have plans in the future to publish the work?

They may or may not do so, as if they are in the process of drafting future publication on the subject, many people are (sometimes very rightfully) leery of sharing in-process work. I've always shared when asked, though usually it's of stuff I've already published, such as articles or a chapter from my book, so I didn't have to worry about poaching.

If you think it might allay concern, you might explain that you're an independent scholar who is personally, rather than professionally interested. This is esoteric and academic enough in its treatment of pregnancy that I can't imagine that it would flag anything on a governmental level. But my guess is, if it's just a talk, it won't be monetized; that really only happens when it's published in a journal or book.

My advice is to be direct, respectful, politely enthused about their research, and short. Their answer will depend on things going on with them, rather than on if you successfully manage a secret handshake.

Good luck!