#the volunteers should at least be getting a bit of money

[toasterlock]

"This convention is fully volunteer-run, which means none of us get receive any money for the work we put in all year to host this; we do this out of passion and all the earnings go directly back into the next event" is maybe not the cool flex you think it is, maybe don't broadcast that over the event speakers twice

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

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Chapter 2

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The next day you move yourself and your mother to a friends house. Where you both sleep on the floor in the living room. It costs you half a panem a night but it was still a better living arrangement then laying awake until the yearly hours of the morning wondering if a peacekeeper would knock down your door.

You keep your head down. Going straight from work to the house. It seemed to pay off. Your neighbor had reported that the parcels had stopped after a peacekeeper had noticed it was the community and not the intended taking it.

You don't hear from Commander Snow. There was no summons or arrest order made for you.

It leads you to relax bit. He had probably moved on to another after realizing that you would not sell yourself for a pardon and a weekly box of food. You knew many others would, and you wished them the best of luck with their endeavor with Commander Snow. But your nature pushed away such opportunities. You couldn't even tell him you weren't interested to his face. Fear only played a part in that decision.

It was late now as you walked home from you job. Later then usual as your boss had offered you overtime to clean and organize the cold room. You gladly accepted with the added cost of your stay at your friends house.

Four shiny coins had been placed in your hand before you had even done the job. You couldn't believe she was willing to pay this much for such a simple job. You wondered if it was repayment for all your years of hard work for her.

You were never late, always made sure your jobs were done to a standard of excellence, you even stayed back to help train the new people.

All your hard work was finally being rewarded. You made sure to leave the space the best it had ever been.

The money was at least a month's work.

You hadn't written to your brother in so long due to the cost of the paper and shipping fees but now with your extra cash you could reach out.

You make the journey to the stationary store, getting in just before close and go around the back of the building. Using the flat wall as a writing pad.

Your brother had gone to district 8 after influenza swept through killing half their work force. They had asked for volunteers to relocate. Many young men offered. The pay was higher in district 8 as the Capital had a great need for the fabrics and manufacture that it produced. Your brother was picked being effortlessly strong and healthy.

The day he left was the worst day of your life. You miss him terribly, only communicating through letters which were expensive and took ages to find its way to its destination.

You tell him how much you miss him, and worry about him over at district 8. That your mother is well, and prays for him every night before bed. You thank him for the money he sends when he can. Telling him of your own good fortune with the coins, and how he was to spend his half on a cold drink if he could get one, and a night out on the town.

Your pen stills as your thoughts turn to Commander Snow. Should you tell your brother of the strange officer. He was always protective. Would he try and come back to district 12 for you. would they even let him.

You decide not to. It would only worry him, and in his worry he would make rash decisions. You would not be responisble for his harm.

Instead you reiterate how much you miss him, and warn him to write back soon.

You drop two of the coins and the pencil back into the envelope, sealing it shut and stuffing it in your pocket. It was too late to ship it off. You would have to wait until tomorrow.

You felt scared walking back to the house with the money as if people could sense it in your pocket.

You remind yourself your being silly as you walk through the road dividing the streets. There was no one else out at this time. Only you, and you were nearly to the safety of the house.

There was no street lamps in the districts. The only light coming from the houses you pass. You try to remain in the light but sway slightly into the shadows as you reach the steps of your accommodation.

You scream as you feel hands upon your skin. One going around your mouth to quiet you and the other pulling you back against the house.

"Sh sh, Its just me. It's just me. You're safe".

You feel your kness tremble as you pin the voice to a face. Commander snow stood before you, using his body to press you up against the side of the house. His chest pushed against your shoulders, his leg pushed between yours and melded to the wall behind. He kept his left hand on your right shoulder to keep you still and only removed his right hand from your mouth when you went mute. Who would you scream for that could do anything any way.

With his body pressed against yours in such a tight manner, he had free use of his hands.

You weren't getting out from under him, even you realized that. You looked for guns or knife on him but found nothing in the light the moon and surrounding houses offered. He didn't wear his official Capital issued Commander uniform. Instead he dressed down in high waisted black pants, and a long sleeved cotton shirt. He still wore his dog tags and army boots.

'So this is were you've been hiding, hm?". He ran his knuckles along your cheek bone, and you shuddered from his touch.

"No, Sir".

"yes, Sir. I left boxes at your house like a fool".

You could tell he was upset with you.

"It's fine. You'll be back there tomorrow to take the food in. Did you go through my first box i sent?"

You nod your head and a smile appears on his lips.

'What did you have first?". He pushes back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"My mother had a apple" You torn it from her after her first bite.

"i asked what you had first". He pressed his body harder against you.

"We haven't touched the box otherwise, Sir. We can give it back to you. We can compensate for the veggies and the fru-"

He was not happy with your answer, cutting you off.

"Ungrateful brat".

"Sir, we never asked you for it and we don't have money to pay for it"

"You're welcome" his pointer runs along your nose, "I can't have my partner in crime going hungry. Now can I".

You shiver from the familiar way of speaking. You did not want the Commander of district 12 to have a nic-name for you.

"I ought to go inside. They are waiting for me".

You try and move away, thinking he would release you. His cover would be blown if they take to looking for you.

He does not, choosing to place his hands around your neck. Not showcasing his great strength but resting in warning. His thumbs press gently into your throat.

"i think they can wait a few more minutes. Don't you?".

You nod as much as his hold would allow you to. You felt as if he was all around you. With his body wedging you flat against the wall, you felt as if you were sharing the same breath.

"you're ok" He repeats, "i am not going to hurt you".

"Perhaps it would put me at ease if you stepped back a bit, sir"

He shakes his head, "You have a habit of running away".

"You have a habit of appearing out of no where".

You can see him grin under the dim light. That was intentional, He always wanted you to feel as if he was always watching and could turn up at any moment.

"Can you make me some more of those oat bars?"

"Ye-yes" you stutter.

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"yes" you repeat.

"Good. Bring them to my office the day after next".

"Yes, Sir. Can I go now?"

"I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks and you're so quick to run away?"

"'Sir, please I Have to get inside". away from you.

"Why were you so late getting home?" he ignored your plea completely.

His thumbs circles on your throat.

"I had to work back" you admit.

"And then?". He already knew that wasn't the full story so you confess you brought some paper and took some time to write a letter.

"A letter?" he asks, "A letter to who?".

"My brother. He went to district 8 for work".

You gasp as he releases you. Giving you a least two feet of space.

"Lets see it" he demands.

With shaky hands you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket. He grabs it before you could hold it out to him.

He rips it open, and pours the two silver coins into his hand, tossing them around.

"My coins".

"My coins" you state, taking a step forward, "For my over time"

Surely he wouldn't find it appealing to take your coins from you. He was commander Snow he didn't need any money in district 12. He could just take. There would be no one to stop him.

"And where do you think your boss got the coins to give you for your over time. Where's the rest of them".

It was a set up. Not hard work and luck that gave you a few extra coins. But an odd infatuation from the officer.

You pull the rest from your pocket showing them to him.

He scoffs, "i gave her eight , she gives you four. I expected her to take two, but four. Does your district know no limits to their greed".

He mentally leaves his sweet girl out of the picture. She had received four and was willingly giving 2 away. He was sure you would also give your mother one and spend the rest wisely. Tigress always brought him new clothes with her overtime. Using old curtains to fashion her own.

You hold out your hand for him to take the coins back.

Much like his tigress, You were giving what you had to him.

"If I had known" you start.

"The point was that you didn't know". He snaps.

You still hold out your hand for him to retrieve the coins.

"Keep them. You earnt them".

You pocket the change. You had really earnt them.

He balls your brothers coins in his fist and moves out more into the light to read your letter. You were so glad you decided to leave Commander Snow out of it.

he reads fast, flipping the page and going on to the next in a matter of seconds.

He nods satisfied that it was in fact a letter to your brother and not a lost lover, before he folds the letter back up and places the coins back in the envelop.

"I'll mail it for you" he offers but you protest at the thought.

'I'd prefer to do it, Commander".

"You don't trust me? After everything we've been through, and the secrets we share".

"No-I-" you were thankful he interrupted you again, unsure of your own sentence.

"We're friends, right?"

You nod having the feeling it wasn't truly a question.

"Friends do things for each other. Let me to this for you".

"It's too big of an ask" you try again. You reach for the letter but he pulls it back.

"You could", a step forward had you going back, " do something for me to ease your conscious".

He moves towards you again until you were once again pressed up against the wall.

"What?" you breathe.

His hand cups your face, and his body braces itself against yours before his lushes lips capture yours.

The kiss is deep and hard, Barely moving off before coming back for more. His tongue licks at the bottom of your lip, sucking gently when you don't let him in.

He repositions his head to a tilt, keeping his top lip pressed against your bottom as he does. He comes back with full force, your head knocking softly against the wall from the force.

"that" another small kiss presses against your lips. A quick peck to your sealed lips.

You turn your head in case of another one, and his hand on the side of your face follows.

He digs into his pocket, pulling out two coins and pressing them into your hand.

"Take the coins. Buy yourself a new dress"

"I don't want-"

He sh's you.

"take the coins, buy the dress and stop avoiding me".

"Thursday" you remind him, the day after next.

"Yes, Thursday. Don't forget. Tomorrow if you can".

The house across the track opens its door and an middle aged women appears throwing a bucket of dirty water over the terrace. Coriolanus shrinks into the shadows until she return back inside.

"Go inside" He demands, stepping back. You rush away from him not looking back as you run into the house. But you feel his stare upon your back.

The next morning two peacekeepers knocked on the door to drive you and your mother back to your house, leaving you with a large basket of food.

'What have you done?" Your mother asks you behind closed doors.

"I am not sure" you reply honestly.

-----------

You make the worst batch of oat meal bars you've ever made and deliver them to the compound.

You were almost sure you were going to be shot as you approached the gate but they must have been expecting you, opening the gate as you neared.

You had tried to just give the basket to the Peacekeeper but he demanded that you go inside with him. You follow him through the large estate.

Peacekeepers old and new were everywhere. Some without their uniform giving them an almost human look. They eyed you as you passed.

They thinned as you reached a stunning white building made of stone. Everything else was structured out of metal so you knew that the building only housed the most important people.

It wasn't any less busy as people ran about you with stacks of paper. It was loud inside the walls. People talking to each other as they walked, some yelling down a telephone. None of them even glance at you or the peacekeeper you followed.

He leads you to a large oak door, twice the length of you, and he knocks three times.

"Come in" you hear Commander Snow call.

The peacekeeper opens the door but makes no attempt to enter the threshold. You do, and the door is immediately closed behind you.

"You couldn't make it yesterday?" he asked crossing his desk to join you in the center. You hold your basket like a protective shield.

It kept you distanced as places his hands on your shoulders.

'i had to go to work" You explain and you push the basket to his chest, attempting to rid his hands from you.

He does take the basket with a small hmm before returning to his desk. He places the basket down and digs for a oat bar. As he bites down you could tell he could taste your lack of effort.

Still he eats it without complaint as he pours coffee from a tray into two mugs. He motions for you to sit down but you were itching to go.

"I should go" you state.

"Sit" his mouth was full with the oat bar.

You do sit but don't drink the coffee offered. You notice that he had better looking biscuits on his tray.

He leans against the desk next to you and takes another big bite of the bar. His eyes wonder down to you where you sat anxious twisting your ring.

"What's that?" he points with the oat bar down.

It was only a small metal ring. Thin pieces of twisted metal in a circle. So small most people never even noticed it.

Your brother had given it to you on your nineteenth birthday as a congratulations for not being selected for the hunger games.

He obviously knew it was a ring, and you obviously knew he was really asking who gave you that.

"A gift from my brother before he left". You stop twisting it to draw attention off it but it was too late.

He finished his oat bar, dusting his hands clean from the crumbs before standing up to full height.

"Give it to me".

You shake your head no. It was the last thing you had of him.

Still Coriolanus held his hand out expecting.

"It's very dear to me, Sir".

"I'll take very good care of it".

You look up at him with pleading eyes, his softens but he doesn't relent.

"You can give it to me or I can take it", he warns.

You almost cry as you twist it off your pointer finger and place it in his palm.

He flips it around his pinky finger, and wedges both hands between his knees.

"There's sugar there if you want it".

You stand up angry.

"I don't want it. I have to get to work".

You attempt to storm off but he catches you with a firm hold on your upper arm and a hand wrapped around the side of your face.

Under his strong fingers you remember your anger could get you killed.

"Don't be upset with me" he pleads.

"I ain't upset" you remark although you eyes brim with tears, "They dock my pay half if i am even a minute late. I have to go".

"I'll walk you to the gate". You wait for him to take the lead.

You find the walk back less busy as people avoid the Commanding officer. He twists the ring in the same anxious manner that you did. He wanted to say something. Offer something in return but could think of nothing that would compensate.

It's too late by the time the journey ends. He pulls open the gate and the Peacekeepers facing forward don't turn.

You could feel his hand on your back and it shoots you forward. He remains at the gate watching you flea from him.

No one asks you why you're crying at work. So long as you are doing your tasks they don't care.

----------

On Saturdays you have a stall in the markets selling your baked goods. Your friend helps you when she has the day off for a portion of the profits.

Today it was sunny. Hot but with a nice cool breeze. People flooded through the stalls. Your cakes sold great, even better with the fresher ingredients from Coriolanus box.

You could sell the oat bars with chocolate on top for nearly double. Chocolate was rare in the districts. Most people had never even tasted it before.

Coriolanus was doing his rounds letting a younger officer with great potential shadow him for the day. He freezes when he saw you.

He had walked these markets two or three times before, Had you always been there? He must have walked past you and your stall and never even noticed. Fate has a mysterious way of working. He was now certain that it pushed you into the compound due to his ignorance while on duty.

You looked beautiful in a white top and tight blue jeans. You had your hair covered in a bandana again and wore your normal work boots.

He put his helmet back on in case you looked over and saw him. He was sure you were still upset about Thursday, and he didn't want to spoil your good mood.

The young solider followed suit. Hiding from sight without question. He might survive district 12.

You laughed with your friend who sat on a milk crate to eat her apple. At her feet lay a brown sack filled food. She quickly closed it to avoid being robbed but Coriolanus had already seen it.

He tightened his hold on his rifle. No doubt it had come from you. from Coriolanus to be more correct. He agreed to feed you, even if that meant feeding your mother too, but he did not agree to feed your friends.

Your next box would be smaller.

A school group blocks his view of you as they pass, and Coriolanus refocus to his surroundings. He sees a young boy, no more then 6, dilly dallying behind the rest of the group. He goes up to each stall looking at what they had to offer before slowly making his way to his class.

He was going to be left behind at his current rate.

"you see the young boy in the red shirt?'' Coriolanus asks his soilder.

"Yes, Sir". The boy flexes his shoulders as if the child poses a threat.

''When he reaches that cake stand, I want you to push him over".

He pats the boys shoulder urging him to go. He looked confused but followed command going over to a nearby stall to yours and pretending to look at something.

The young boy skips two stalls to come directly over to yours. His eyes go round at the sight of the chocolate oat bar.

Your smile gets wipped off as the boy is knocked to the ground. You glare instead at the Peacekeeper who made a lap back to Coriolanus.

The boy screams and crys at his scrapped knee. Coriolanus ducks behind a large pillar as you round your table to pick him up.

You were talking to him, soothing him as you rocked side to side. He reacted positively wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Coriolanus bangs his head against the piler. That was the reaction he was hopping for. To see you in a nurturing state as you consoled the boy.

"is that what you wanted sir?" his solider stood in front of him, and he pushes the boy out of the way. He had blocked the view of you carrying the child and setting him on your table.

You reach behind the crying boy and offer him a chocolate oat bar. His crying almost immediately stops.

"yes. Good. Go back to base and have the rest of the afternoon off solider".

The solider is ecstatic at the news, and with a "thank you, sir" he was pushing himself back through the crowd.

You were talking but he wasn't sure if it was to the boy or to your friend. He wished he knew what you were saying.

You had taken off your bandana and wet it with you water bottle to wipe the blood off his knee.

It was so natural for you, he thought, to care for others. Once you got comfortable enough, how would you care for him, he wondered.

Would you baby him as you babied this child if he got hurt.

he shuffles back realsing that he had itched forwarrd as you picked up the child again. You gave him another bar to eat. He was certain you were talking to your friend this time, looking squarely at her before you took off after the school.

The primary school was located at top of a large hill. Away from the noise and violence of the district.

The young boy clung to you as you walked. His chocolate hands getting over your white top as he licked the icing off.

Coriolanus followed you out of the markets. he waits until you were away from the crowd before picking up his pace to you.

The young boy catches Coriolanus' eye and begins to struggle in your grip, pointing at him. The big scary peacekeeper was coming your way.

You tighten your hold and spin to face him.

You looked shocked to see him.

"Commander Snow, sir"

A formal greeting to someone who had you pinned to the side of a wall four night ago.

He smiles at you. Trying to distract you so he can move closer to you.

"I saw" he says, "and I've come to help you return the lost boy"

"I'll be fine on my own, sir"

"I insist. You never know who lurking around. My job to keep you safe".

Coriolanus was not speaking from his station as commander.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Coriolanus offered looking at the large hill.

"No, no" the boy begs, but Coriolanus reaches for him anyway.

You turn away, curling your body around the child.

"No. It's ok. I've got him".

Coriolanus was sure you were going to struggle getting up the hill with the extra weight. If the boy was only a sack of potatoes, he would have just yanked it from your grip. But you looked so good with a child on your hip.

You could always swap half way if you wanted.

"It's ok, darlin'" you rub soothing circles on the boys back, making Coriolanus jealous, "we're gonna get you back to class".

We're. we. us. The partners in crime.

He bucks his chest out with confidence.

You begin your journey up the hill, and Coriolanus was right. Not even half way up and you had to shift the child around to your front to distribute the weight. Coriolanus goes to take him but you reject his offer once again.

"He's alright" you insist.

The child rests his head on your chest, his eyes staring at Coriolanus as if to say ha ha.

He was about to suggest you perhaps just let the boy walk, but you beat him through the silence.

"Are you following me?"

"i was showing a new candidate the patrol routes. I just happened to have seen you with the boy, and wanted to help you get him back to class as per my duty".

Close enough to the truth.

"And lydia's? how did you know i was staying there?"

His unclips his helmet and attaches it to his rifle.

"I asked around". Threated your neighbors.

You fall into silence again and this time it was Coriolanus who brecks it,

"Are you going to share everything I give you with others?"

You scoff at his words, ''saw me with the child, hey?'".

He grabs your arm to turn you causing the boy to wail again.

'You might find I am a lot more closed fisted if I can't be certain it's actually going to you".

You tear free and bounce the boy in your arms.

"shhh baby. It's all ok'' You smooth his hair back, cradling him to you.

You step away from the scary peacekeeper as you and the boy talk. You soon compliance him back to a settled temperament, and Coriolanus steps back over to you.

He doesn't mention the sharing again. He would wait for the journey back. He found himself childishly annoyed when your attention went all to the small boy.

You huff as the boy gets heavier in your arms but Coriolanus doesn't offer to take him again. He'll let you struggle.

"Why do you feed people you don't know?" the boy sucks on the remainder of the oat bar, slopper getting all over your shoulder.

You don't answer. He calks it up to the physical labor.

"The prisoners, the boy" he pushes. He leaves himself out of the list. You both feed each other because you innately knew each other. You were partners in crime and partners in crime look after one another.

"Who's to say I don't know em".

"I assure you after I was done if the prisoners knew you they would have given you up. They didn't know".

He half regretted his sentence seeing you tense up. But he was sure he left a impression of a strong, powerful man. You just needed to get over your guilt first to see it.

"We look after each other in District 12. It may not seem like it to you but these are good people here".

You looked after people here, he wasn't so sure that they had the same loyalty back.

He had seen enough flips and crumbles to know that for the right price they would feed you to him.

He wanted to tell you this. To set you straight, and show that he was the only one looking out for you. But he knew the information would upset you and he had already done that once this week. He would save it for another time.

You struggle up the hill, puffing out gratefully as the small school house came into view. A large tree marked the boundary, upholding a wire fence around the small metal huts.

You turn to Coriolanus, "I think the gun might scare them".

He take his large rifle off his shoulder and leans it against the tree. Your face still read of your displeasure.

"it might just be best if i go on with him".

He looks to you and then back to the school. He could still see you if he stayed underneath the shade of the tree.

'' I'll wait for you here then''. The gun is slung over his shoulder and he takes its place against the tree.

The boy watches Coriolanus over your shoulder as you walk with him.

You call out to the teacher frantically recounting her children.

"hey, I think you're missing one!". You place the small boy on the ground and wave goodbye to him as he runs over to his teacher, complaints of his sore knee spilling from his mouth.

Turning back to Coriolanus, your smile disappears and your pace that was slow with the child picked up to a near sprint.

He straightened up as you came near but you walked straight past him without looking.

"Do you want children?" He matches your pace

"No" you spat, "never".

Maybe if you met the right man, he wanted to say. A man who could protect them.

But he swallowed the words. This situation was new to him too. He didn't want to make promises he would later not plan to keep.

"You should reconsider" he says instead, "I think you would make a good mother".

You were naturally a very warm and loving person. While others walked around the crying boy you picked him up and nurtured him.

Coriolanus remembered a time in the war he had gone out alone in search of food. He found only hungry dogs, who chased him through the ruined city.

"Help!" he cried, looking back at the fast approaching beasts.

His foot catches a large pothole in the ground and he is thrown upon his face. Sure he was going to get eaten he calls out for Tigress but it is a large man that appears at name.

He bangs the lids of trash cans together and shouts angrily at the dogs, scaring them off.

A savior, he thought. But dropping the lids and turning to Coriolanus, the man didn't cradle the boy to his chest as you had but reached for his axe under his coat and swung it down.

He had managed to roll out of its path and get to his feet just in time.

The man was slower than the dogs, overcome with starvation. Coriolanus could disappear between the buildings. He remembered as he hid in rubble while waiting for the man to pass, how sacred he was.

It was one of the core memories that haunted him to this day.

oh how he wished that someone like you had found him instead, but he wasn't sure people could be like that anymore. He wasn't sure how through all the misery and pain you could remain so soft. He wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh and have a taste.

"What would be the point. Loving someone only to watch them get killed in the hunger games".

You feet come down hard, channeling the anger you couldn't express.

"The chances are small. There are over 300 families in district 12".

He just wanted to hear you say you would like children. The picture of you big and round while rocking a boy the same age as the lost child seemed to be getting hazer as you resisted.

"You should ask Milly May, or Harrison Flint if their chances seemed small".

This years tributes to the Hunger Games. They both died the first day. Milly May the first hour.

"Motherhood looks good on you. Natural" he tries again.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“I can’t give you what you want. No matter how much you try and sweet talk me or buy me. It won’t be given”.

It didn't matter, was the first thought that appeared in his head.

"I don't want anything from you. In fact, it's been me that's been giving. Food. Protection. All to have it spat back in my face".

Your eyes float down the hill. The beginning of Town was still a little while away.

"I understand, sir. Perhaps your efforts would be appreciated more else where".

It was a gentle let down but resulted in a harsh strike.

His hand came down upon your cheek, almost knocking you to the ground. You stumble off balance, looking up at him.

The anger on his face morphs into disappointment. Before he could reach out for you, you take off running down the hill.

You might be beaten for your rejection.

You feel his hand brush against your shoulder as he tries to grab you but you avoid it.

Pushing yourself down the hill as fast as you could go. But it wasn't fast enough.

He tackles you to the ground, crawling on top of you and securing both your wrists with one hand.

"I am sorry, I am sorry" he holds the side of the face he stuck, smoothing it over, "I shouldn't have done that".

You trash under him, screaming.

His soft hand retracts from your face to take off the rifle from his shoulder, he sets it down next to you.

His dog tags had made their way from under his shirt and now dangle over your face. You can see he had added your ring to the chain.

''Let me see" his hand returns to your jaw, forcing it to the ground on the other side so he could inspect your cheek, "only a little bruise".

He lets your head go back to its normal position, and you're left looking in his eyes.

"What I do, I do for you. Okay? not your friends, and not for anyone else. Do you understand?".

His hand reaches up going to your palm and enclosing your curled hand with his. He held himself up with his hold on your wrists, and with the other now pressed over yours, all his weight bore down on you.

The weight upon your hands hurt.

"Yes, Sir".

"If I find out you've been sharing again. I'll hang them for thievery".

You give two little nods.

"I understand, Sir. It won't happen again. Please, let me get up".

He hops off you. choosing to crouch at your feet as you sit up. He notices your shoe lace untied and begins to pull the laces tight and loop the knot back up.

You sit there stunned as he picks up his gun and rises. Offering you a hand you take it and he pulls you up.

The journey down the hill begins again. His hand reaches out to keep you in pace with him when he feels you propelling down.

You reach the bottom in a comfortable silence and stop at the foot of the hill.

"We can't be seen going back together. It will put a target on my back".

You were right. The district scum might harm you if they thought it would get back at Coriolanus.

He nods in understanding.

"You go ahead. I'll follow". He gestures forward.

You go quickly back to your stall. He tries to keep focus on you but your short stature gets momentarily lost in the crowd.

You reach your stall and go straight back behind it. Your friend is standing next to you talking in a worried hush tone when Coriolanus reaches the table.

You don't look at him as he takes one of the chocolate oat bars and continues walking back to the compound.

It tasted dry in his mouth, he didn't like that you were still baking for others, you were going to have to shut down your stall.

-----------

Coriolanus stood upon the platform at the hanging tree, having it checked for bombs twice.

The gate was swung open for the public, and every available peacekeeper was present and armed.

The convicted all formed a line. Being hung one by one for dramatic effect. The families of the dead being forced to stand at the front of the audience so they could grab their sons/brothers/ cousins shoes as Peacekeepers dropped him and restrung the rope.

Coriolanus forbid traditional burial for traitors of the country. Families would have to settle for burying the shoes of their deceased love one while their bodies are cremated and sent to Dr Gaul's office as decoration.

"Phineas Hightower. Sentenced to death for consorting with rebels and making plans of an attack. Disturbing the peace of the district".

Coriolanus read into a microphone that fed through the town.

A young man approaches. 30 at the most. He didn't look scared as the others did. No tears or pleas of innocence. Coriolanus almost respected him.

The man kicks off his shoes as he steps upon the box, and a loud cry of grief overtook the space. The mockingjays echoed it out.

Peacekeepers were on the old women, presumably his mother, fast. Focus must be kept on the fate of the traitor, and not on the cries of mothers.

The old women reaches for her sons shoes but is shoved before she could reach them. She pleas with the officers taking her to the back, but they are like statues as they manhandle her away.

Coriolanus could now see tears spring in the eyes of the young man. A befitting end for a capital traitor.

He gives the order to continue the show. They ready the man for execution.

More commotion is heard as the crowd readjusts to let someone through. He looks to see you making your way through the crowd to the front.

Had you come to see him. Watch him as he took life. Does the power fill your belly with excitement to know that the same hands that caressed you now commanded death of another.

You wanted to make yourself known to him. To let him know he had a friend in the crowd. You had dressed pretty for him back in your clothes you wore for your vaccination. A nod to your secret bond.

You left the bandana off, letting your loose hair fall around your shoulders.

But no. You don't come to his side of the stage. You rush to the soon to be dead man.

You grab the shoes, just as the box is kicked. You squeeze your eyes shut and bring them to your chest.

Coriolanus steps back to the guards behind him.

He nods in your direction, "Take that girl to my study. Make sure she doesn't leave".

Coriolanus hears the body drop, and the Guard move to catch you.

You hadn't moved since the rope stretched. You stood there eyes closed and shoes to your chest until you felt hands upon you telling you to move.

You look back at Coriolanus on the stage to see him looking down at you.

The rage in your eyes matches his.

---------

Coriolanus makes a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and make himself more presentable. He takes off his official hat, and unbuttons the top of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him for nearly an hour and a half. Having to wait for the rest of the hangings to finish, the crowd to go home, the peacekeepers to sweep the area and the final report from all leaders to Coriolanus before he dismisses them for the night.

He untucks his chain from his neck and holds your ring in his hand.

You were still his girl. Just unshaped still.

Placing the hat under his arm he makes his way to you in his study. The Peacekeeper stood guard at the door.

"You can leave" he tells the man, before entering.

He sees you shoot up from the chair as he closes the door behind him.

You had been crying. He could see the tear lines still wet on your face.

"What were you doing at the hanging?". He storms over to you. He was giving you an opportunity to satisfy him.

I was there to see you but the women upset me. He wanted you to say.

"Leave me alone. i have to get these shoes home" You try and push past him but he shoves you down into the chair. Resting his weight upon the arms of it as he leaves over you.

"I've told you once, associating with rebels will get you hanged".

"his mother won't have a body to burry. She will have his shoes".

It was the first time you hadn't called him Sir in a conversation.

He wanted to slap you until you did.

But his hands were busy taking the shoes from you.

"Now she won't have shoes either. She can burry a memory".

You push the chair back to escape him. He could tell you wanted to hit him. Your fists balled and your stance was ready to swing.

"Come here" he demanded. It gnawed at him that you were upset with him. He was only doing his job.

"Give me the shoes" you demanded.

He drops the shoes to the ground.

"come and get them" he taunts.

You seem hesitant but you do, bending down at his feet to retrieve the shoes.

He grabs your jaw once your knee height and you struggle against him.

"Tell me I am taking good care of you" He pushes down as you try and get up. "Tell me how handsome I am".

You weren't truly mad at him, only overcome with emotion, he assured himself. But he too felt heavy after hanging days.

he had wanted to rest in your arms, similar to the boy with the scraped knee. But you offered him no comfort.

This time you do strike him across the face. He shoves you away and you scramble far, taking one shoe with you.

He begins to laugh, would every comfort be denied to him. No, not you.

"Don't you ever touch me again. You stay away from me from now on".

He was going to make you regret ever saying those words to him. You were going to give him every drop of kindness you held even if he had to wring it from your body. he deserved it after everything he had been through. You were his reward for it all, and by god he was going to have it.

But not now. Now he opened the door for your freedom, watching you run out.

He would make sure you came crawling back. Telling him you wanted his great care again. Telling him how handsome he was.

He would have you all. How much pain you wanted to go through first was entirely up to you.

[autolenaphilia]

Why enshittification happens and how to stop it.

The enshittification of the internet and increasingly the software we use to access it is driven by profit. It happens because corporations are machines for making profits from end users, the users and customers are only seen as sources of profits. Their interests are only considered if it can help the bottom line. It's capitalism.

For social media it's users are mainly seen by the companies that run the sites as a way for getting advertisers to pay money that can profit the shareholders. And social media is in a bit of death spiral right now, since they have seldom or never been profitable and investor money is drying up as they realize this.

So the social media companies. are getting more and more desperate for money. That's why they are getting more aggressive with getting you to watch ads or pay for the privilege of not watching ads. It won't work and tumblr and all the other sites will die eventually.

But it's not just social media companies, it's everything tech-related. It gets worse the more monopolistic a tech giant is. Google is abusing its chrome-based near monopoly over the web, nerfing adblockers, trying to drm the web, you name it. And Microsoft is famously a terrible company, spying on Windows users and selling their data. Again, there is so much money being poured into advertising, at least 493 billion globally, the tech giants want a slice of that massive pie. It's all about making profits for shareholders, people be damned.

And the only insurance against this death spiral is not being run by a corporation. If the software is being developed by a non-profit entity, and it's open source, there is no incentive for the developers to fuck over the users for the sake of profits for shareholders, because there aren't any profits, and no shareholders.

Free and Open source software is an important part of why such software development can stay non-corporate. It allows for volunteers to contribute to the code and makes it harder for users to be secretly be fucked over by hidden code.

Mozilla Firefox and Thunderbird are good examples of this. There is a Mozilla corporation, but it exists only for legal reasons and is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the non-profit Mozilla foundation. There are no shareholders. That means the Mozilla corporation is not really a corporation in the sense that Google is, and as an organization has entirely different incentives. If someone tells you that Mozilla is just another corporation, (which people have said in the notes of posts about firefox on this very site) they are spreading misinformation.

That's why Firefox has resisted the enshittification of the internet so well, it's not profit driven. And people who develop useful plugins that deshitify the web like Ublock origin and Xkit are as a rule not profit-driven corporations.

And you can go on with other examples of non-profit software like Libreoffice and VLC media player, both of which you should use.

And you can go further, use Linux as your computer's operating system.. It's the only way to resist the enshitification that the corporate duopoly of Microsoft and Apple has brought to their operating system. The plethora of community-run non-profit Linux distributions like Debian, Mint and Arch are the way to counteract that, and they will stay resistant to the same forces (creating profit for shareholders) that drove Microsoft to create Windows 11.

Of course not all Linux distributions are non-profits. There are corporate created distros like Red Hat's various distros, Canonical's Ubuntu and Suse's Opensuse, and they prove the point I'm making. There has some degree of enshittification going on with those, red hat going closed source and Canonical with the snap store for example. Mint is by now a succesful community-driven response to deshitify Ubuntu by removing snaps for example, and even they have a back-up plan to use Debian as a base in case Canonical makes Ubuntu unuseable.

As for social media, which I started with, I'm going to stay on tumblr for now, but it will definitely die. The closest thing to a community run non-profit replacement I can see is Mastodon, which I'm on as @autolenaphilia@chaosfem.tw.

You don't have to keep using corporate software, and have it inevitably decline because the corporations that develop it cares more about its profits than you as an end user.

The process of enshittification proves that corporations being profit-driven don't mean they will create a better product, and in fact may cause them to do the opposite. And the existence of great free and open source software, created entirely without the motivation of corporate profits, proves that people don't need to profit in order to help their fellow human beings. It kinda makes you question capitalism.

[doberbutts]

We have a little free pantry in our front yard (toothbrushes, tampons, shelf-stable snacks bottled water, etc.), and I read a lot about people's experiences having one online before we put ours up re: expectations about potential interactions with people using it, but nothing prepared me for how weirdly aggro *other* people sometimes get about us having it as a form of "activism" as opposed to some other, more nebulous idea of broader social change. "Don't you think it'd be better to volunteer at or donate money to a homeless shelter, so those people can get the actual help they need?" "Shouldn't you focus more on trying to campaign for policy changes that will help more people than one street corner if you care about this problem?" "Isn't doing that a waste of time?" "Aren't you just encouraging people not to get help?" I do that other stuff when I can. This is something small I can do - in addition to raising awareness and fighting for bigger change, when I have the time and money and spoons - and at least, when I don't. It's crazy to me to approach social justice issues with such an all-or-nothing mindset as some people seem to. I've met enough of the individuals who utilize it to know it makes a difference in a very tangible way for the people directly around me.

No, I agree entirely.

Corny and dated as it is, there's a reason the saying is "be the change you want to see". If no one within the community puts in the work to fix the community's problems, even in little bits and pieces, then how will anything change? Raising awareness only goes so far. What happens when all anyone is, is aware? Aware, and still doing nothing, waiting for someone else to put in the work.

Sometimes, that someone is going to need to be you. You can't just wait around and wait for someone else to do it for you.

If I see someone digging through the trash for food, I wave them over and offer them food from my house or fresh food from a store or take them to a restaurant where they can order whatever they want. If I'm getting groceries and I see someone very obviously homeless struggling to pay for their food, I tell the cashier to add it to my bill. No one starves in front of me. Ever since I stopped needing to rely on food stamps, no one starves in front of me.

This past summer I saw someone splayed out on the sidewalk in 95F weather in direct sunlight. I couldn't tell if he was unconscious from drugs or passed out from the heat or just simply had fallen asleep in the shade and then the sun moved. I was getting groceries so I added a bunch of hot chicken to my order plus several bottles of refrigerated water. I went over to him and woke him and explained that I was worried he needed medical attention. He'd passed out because he was tired, he told me. I offered him the hot food and the water and he thanked me, telling me he'd run out of water the night before and food the day before that and didn't have any money to get any more.

Everyone else had been walking around him like he was just an obstacle on the sidewalk. No one had thought to offer any help. When I walked away, some folks who saw me told me that that was very nice of me. I don't think it was nice of me. I think that's just what you should do if you see someone obviously in distress. They agreed that he seemed like he needed the help. They didn't act. They agreed that the compassionate and right thing to do was to offer assistance and make sure he was okay. But they didn't do it. They waited for someone else to do it.

I've mentioned in passing that I volunteer for the local teen LGBT club, helping lost gay kids find their way and maybe not kill themselves about it. It's not much. I mostly just text back and forth with whatever kids get my number from the adults that run the thing. Sometimes I give them tips and advice. Sometimes I'm just the cool gay uncle they tell about their latest school drama. Once or twice I've served one of them lunch on my couch while my dogs smother them with affection and they cry about their latest heartbreak. I don't do speeches or history lessons or anything like that. I don't think I'm qualified for it, in honesty. But if even one of them doesn't commit suicide, if even one of them doesn't self-harm, if even one of them no longer feels all alone in the world because I'm there when they reach out to me, that's enough.

Today on my commute to work, the guy in front of me had a major wipeout on his motorcycle. I stopped my car in a position that none of the other cars could hit him, and asked if he was okay, and waited until his friend (also on a motorcycle) had circled back around to help him off the road and check him over. I left once his friend waved me away. I offered to call an ambulance but he refused.

A couple weeks ago, also on my commute, a woman was stopped on the side of the road, waving her arms at drivers, shouting for help. I stopped. The other drivers didn't. Her car had died, she was new to town, and she was somewhere that notoriously doesn't get cell service. I helped her call a tow truck. It wasn't a trap. She didn't want to hitchhike. She just was stuck and panicked about it.

I stop and help animals get off the road. I've lost count on how many turtles I've carried to the other side. I helped my neighbor search for a dog he saw get hit by a car so he could take it to the vet. I shoveled my elderly neighbor's driveway for her, and talked my boss into giving her a major discount for her little dog's dental in which pretty much every tooth needed extraction or he would die. When I still lived in that rental with my roommates, we were surrounded by kids. Every kid on the block knew we were a safe house to go to. If they needed food or water, if they needed entertainment, if they needed just somewhere to be, they could be at our place. When covid started, I did a "reverse halloween" since Halloween was canceled, and I put bags of candy on every doorstep that I knew had kids inside. I've done a "neighborhood santa" putting a small toy plus a small gift card for the parents on every doorstep that has kids, for as long as I've lived around kids.

When I say activism requires action, I don't mean that every single person is required to save a thousand lives. The honest answer is, unless you have a lot of disposable time and money, you probably won't. But you can still make a difference. To one. To ten. To twenty.

And you know what? I'm not saying black people specifically came up with this- but how can you be surprised to know this is how I live my life when I say over and over that I was raised by black activists who lived during MLK Jr and Malcolm X and knew community action would have the longest-lasting effects? Of course I do all this. That's what being part of a community *is*.

[wh0re43van]

Maneater- (Jimmy Darling X Reader)

Summary: it’s your first week at the freakshow as a sword swallower and fire eater. Almost everyone has taken an immediate liking to you, especially Jimmy. (Literally only wrote this because I want to deep throat Jimmy)

Warnings: smut, blowjob, kinda public

Word count: 2.3k

I sit on the edge of the wooden stage in the main tent as I clean my swords. the small amount of afternoon sun leaks in through the openings of the red and white canopy, bringing the blistering Florida heat with it. I absentmindedly wipe the sweat on my brow with the same rag I’m sanitizing the sleek metal with, then immediately break into a fit of coughs as the fumes from the rubbing alcohol choke me out.

‘This heat is melting my brain’ I think to myself as I catch my breath as best I can in the hot sticky air. You’d think as a fire breather I’d be used to it, but this August haze is brutal.

Being from New England originally, this suffocating humidity is a far cry from what I consider comfortable, but a gig is a gig. Elsa was more than pleased to hire me when I pulled up with a unique act and my own caravan last week. I’ve worked with a lot of carnies in my day, but the group here is truly one of a kind. Almost everyone took an immediate liking to me. Ethel did her best to make me my favorite dessert as a welcome gift, Desiree insisted on taking me shopping, and Eve has let me sleep in her caravan with her for the week since mine isn’t yet hooked up to electric or water.

“Not even a dog should have to sleep in this heat without a fan,” Eve insisted. All the women have quickly become my closest friends, except for-

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Maggie’s shrill voice cuts through the thick air with ease as she stomps into the tent.

“What are you on about now?” I roll my eyes as I set my swords to the side, walking down the rickety wooden steps that creak under my weight.

Maggie has given me shit since the first time she saw Jimmy flirting with me, which was about 30 seconds after my arrival. Her and Jimmy seemed to have some sort of relationship which he assured was “purely casual”, but Maggie doesn’t seem to agree.

“You have Jimmy out there in this heat wave crawling around messing with your stupid trailer! He could have a heat stroke,” the ‘psychic’ scolds me. I step up to the mousy bitch, adjusting my bathing suit top and brushing the dust off my denim shorts.

“He volunteered to do that for me, so mind your own fucking business… Ya know, in all the carnivals I’ve worked at, I never met a medium that couldn’t take a fuckin hint,” I say lowly, glaring at her. Her face goes red with anger.

“I don’t see how Elsa could hire such an ill-mannered hussy. You surely aren’t doing any favors for the reputation of the show,” I can tell that she’s trying to remain composed, but her voice comes out a shrill whine.

“This hussy earned over 500 bucks in the first four days I was here,” I remind her, laughing at how stupid her attempt at a come back was. Maggie tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

“I’m surprised you even charge money for your act since you prance around here with your tits out shoving shit down your throat for free,” she small lady growls, motioning to my bathing suit top for emphasis.

‘Damn’ I’m a bit shocked by this statement and it shows on my face, but I scoff before pulling the corner of my mouth into a smirk.

“Why don’t we ask Jimmy-“ I begin, but I’m cut off by Jimmy himself.

“Ask me what?” he smiles as he takes a gulp of water out of the glass in his hand. The energy in the room immediately shift as both of us turn to look at him, plastering fake smiles on our faces as we adjust our outfits and hair.

“Ask you, uhm, how you always manage to get such a crowd when you work the carousel. It must be all the girls wanting a ride with you,” I let out a nervous giggle, nudging the bitch to my side. She nods and laughs unconvincingly. At least we can agree on how embarrassing it would for Jimmy to hear us bickering over him like schoolgirls. Luckily, he seems none the wiser to the cat fight that he just accidentally broke up.

Jimmy chuckles as he walks up to us, leaning against the base of the stage. I don’t make any effort to hide my lingering scan of his body. His worn-out blue jeans and white tank top that’s clinging to his toned chest with sweat is covered in the orange dust of Florida’s crust. The veins in his arms are prominent on his slick sun kissed skin that’s dotted with smears of what appear to be grease.

“You’d see me blushing if my face wasn’t sunburnt as all hell,” Jimmy flashes his dimples as he runs his conjoined fingers through his sweat drenched curls. “I’m glad you’re here Maggie, Elsa’s lookin’ for ya,” he informs the blonde. She seems to be happy just to get the smallest bit of attention from the boy.

“Oh, okay. Why don’t you come to my caravan in a little bit. I have a surprise for you,” she says to Jimmy, but her eyes are locked on me, unfortunately for her, Jimmy’s eyes are also locked on me.

“Uh sure Doll, go on now. Don’t leave Elsa waitin’,” the boy says, eyeing me up and down with a grin as he motions his head towards the exit. Maggie smirks at me as if this is some kind of feat before walking out of the tent.

“So,” I smile as I boost myself up on the stage, dangling my feet over the side. “What can I do for you?” I bat my lashes at the sweaty boy.

“I need your pretty hands for one last thing and then you should have electricity,” Jimmy hums, then motions to my swords on the stage. “But if you’re trying to rehearse,” he walks over to the first row of collapsible wooden chairs, taking a seat. “I’ll take my payment in the form of a private show” he leans back, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow. I smile mischievously, standing up and grabbing the three dull swords.

“Well That’s not fair to you,” I tisk as the metal clanks in my hands in. “I’m not even in costume,” I smirk as I pace to the center of the stage.

“Oh trust me doll, this little number you have on right here compliments you just as well as that corset and stockings you dance around in,” he smirks as his drift from my legs to my face, earning a grin from me.

“Well I’m not gonna argue with that,” I laugh before clearing my throat, starting my monologue.

I tun through the first half of my 15 minute routine, Jimmys attention glued to me the entire time. He watches intently as I easily drop two swords down my esophagus, and twist them around before pulling them out one by one. My epiglottis burns as the metal slides through the small opening. I wipe the spit from my mouth, taking a bow as Jimmys applause bounces off the canvas walls.

“Thank You,” I giggle, my voice comes out a bit hoarse as I kneel down by my torches and lamp oil, then I notice I don’t have water to wet my rag. “Gentleman in the front row, could I borrow that glass of water,” I grin, using my ‘show voice’. He happily hops up, bring the glass to the stage. I crawl over to the edge, then sit up on my knees so that my face is even with his. “Thank you, sir,” I grin, holding Jimmys gaze as I take the cup from his hands, brushing my fingers over his.

“I’m honored to be involved in the act,” he breaths as he reaches out, running a thumb over my lip. I grin before licking a strip up the digit, making his eyes go wide.

“If You really want to be a special guest, come join me back stage,” I hum, leaning forward as I take his other hand in mine, tugging him a bit. Without a moments hesitation Jimmy hoists himself up on the stage and pulls me just behind the curtain before he crashes his lips into mine, pinning me to the wall

“You don’t know the things ya do to me, baby,” Jimmy pants against my lips as his hands grab at my body desperately. I giggle into the rough kiss and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” I hum as I reach between us, running my hand over his obvious errciton. Jimmy moans, bucking his hips towards the contact.

“Can ya blame me?” He chuckles lowly before moving his mouth to my neck, leaving wet kisses over my sweaty skin. “It ain’t often that I get attention from a dime like you,” he chuckles lowly against my skin as his large hands grab my ass.

“I guess todays your lucky day then,” I giggle as I turn Jimmy around, pushing his back into the wall. “I just want to thank you for working on my caravan for me,” I purr as I slowly drop down to my knees. His eyes watch intently as I pop open his belt buckle. Jimmy swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his mouth hangs agape.

“It’s my pleasure, honestly doll. You don’t have to do this-” Jimmy protests weakly as he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. His breath hitches when I abruptly yank his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, his heavy cock springing out of its confines.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I smile before licking a strip from base to tip, Jimmy sighs at the contact. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” I bat my lashes at him as he looks down at me, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. “Plus id rather practice on you then those other swords anyway,” I smirk before taking him into my mouth.

He throws his head back, a low growl bubbling from his throat in satisfaction. Jimmy looks down at me with a slack jaw as he watches me take all of him in my throat until my nose is flush with the small patch of hair around his base. His hand finds its way to the back of my head as I begin bobbing up and down on him.

“Just like that, Doll… holy shit,” Jimmy hisses as his face contorts in pleasure. I giggle to myself as I wrap my arms around his legs, allowing him thrust into my face.

My knees dig into the unfinished wood of the stage- sure to leave splinters- as Jimmy violates my throat. His chest starts to heave as he finds his rhythm, filling the tent with low moans and my gagging.

I look at Jimmy through blurry, tear stained vision and I swear I could cum right now. His eyes are screwed shut as his mouth hangs open, letting out the unholiest of sounds I’ve ever heard. His strong arms, shiny with sweat, are flexed so hard that I can see veins popping out of them as he holds onto my hair like his life depends on it.

As Jimmy is lost in pleasure, completely oblivious to anything else around him, I hear shuffling in the side entrance of the tent. I’m about to pull away when I hear Maggie’s whiny voice.

“Jimmy are you still-“ she asks before she freezes, her face goes pale as her jaw drops. The boy doesn’t doesn’t even realize that he’s cutting her off when he moans,

“Jesus Christ baby, I’ve never seen someone look so pretty while gagging on cock,” his voice is breathy and low, but Maggie definitely heard because seconds later she shrieks before running out of the tent. “What was that?” Jimmy asks, slowing his hips, he looks down at me with glazed eyes, as if he’s in another dimension. I pull Away, gasping for breath as I take his slick cock into my hand, breaking the thick strings of spit.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” I giggle, still trying to catch my breath as I slide my hand over his length. “I just want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Can you do that for me?” I hum as I place his tip between my lips, licking lightly. Jimmys eyes flutter as he groans, watching me rub him over my lips.

“Jesus Christ,” is all he manages to groan before he’s thrusting back into my mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax. Jimmy is a cursing, sweaty mess as his cock twitches on my tongue before shooting his sticky release down my throat. I moan at the sensation as he pulls out, falling limp against the wall. “Come here,” he pants out, barely audible as he grabs me up off the floor, pulling me into a wet sloppy kiss. I grin against his lips as hands move to the buttons on my shorts.

“Uh uh,” i tisk as i slap his hands away. He looks at me confused. “This was my payment to you,” I smile as I fix my outfit.

“And Im more than grateful,” he chuckles as he pulls his pants back up. “But id like to return the favor, doll,” he smirks as he reaches out to try to pull my into his arm. I step the side before turning to leave.

“Oh you don’t have time Jimmy. I think Maggie’s looking for you,” I smirk before giving him a peck on the cheek. I can feel his gaze burning into my back I was down the rickety steps and out of the tent.

[ubehalayas-blog]

Kyle w fake s/o that has a crush on him (?) 

The only reason Kyle did this was to get his parents off of his back

They were worried and thinks that Kyle might be gay because for the whole high school Kyle never brought at least one girl back to their house (not that they actually cared though)

Although Kyle was not having it, he wasn’t gay (mhm sure) and thought of just asking for ur favor to fake date him until the summer ends so that his parents would get off his back.

It goes a bit like this:

“Hey– Y/n I have a favor to ask you” “can we.. like– be girlfriend and boyfriend but fake? Like you get what I mean, you read books–” “but if you don’t I mean like we fake date like we do couple things but just for public well for my parents because they’ve been on my back ever since the fucking summer started, they’ve been hinting to me that it’s okay if I came out to them as gay” he rambled on and on, explaining the pickle he was on

“Alright– I get it, Kyle”

“Oh yeah, right sorry” 

You two set like typical house rules for it, 1. No one can know, even best friends. 2. No touching allowed unless it’s consented. (of course my man Ky is a gentleman) 3. No falling in love with each other. 

“Does the last one even matter?” 

“I think–” you lied, (it didn’t matter but somehow most books you read had that rule but ended up falling for one another and you like Kyle so– it must be a spell that should be added right?)

You ended up putting a fake relationship in front of everybody, including your friends and parents.  

Stendy probably invited you to a double date or two, Stan suspects that two of you were pretending to be bf and gf but Kyle debunked his suspicions when he kissed you in front of Stan, you were shocked but kissed back. Let’s just say that the car ride back to your house was awkward, something like:

“We’re here”

“A-ah.. thanks, I.. I enjoyed today” you mumbled, taking off your seatbelt.

He just nodded, never letting his eyes away from the wheels because he was too nervous and embarrassed with what he did. 

He probably took you out on a date or two, on those dates he was given some money from his parents that he used to pay for his and your meals. (let’s js say you don’t have to spend any money when ur with him)

Honestly, Gerald and Sheila was your fan, they loved, adored you so much, they were so thankful that you’re Kyle’s girlfriend. They probably laughed around with you as they told stories about how they were thinking was gay and all, Kyle would probably redden from their embarrassing stories and would shout, “MOM! DAD!” when he thinks they’ve told too much lmao.

At school, he waits for you to finish your classes because he drives you to school and back.

Kyle invites you to study dates in his house but mostly because Sheila always wants to see you, (little did you know Kyle liked seeing you too) sometimes that study date ends with you staying in their house– you insist not to but Sheila and Gerald always find a way for you to stay.

You staying at Kyle’s house always ends up with you sleeping on the bed and Kyle on the floor, Kyle probably thinks that it’s too embarrassing to let you sleep on the floor so he volunteers. But when you said that it’s okay for him to sleep next to you he blushes and rambles on about not wanting to make you uncomfortable and stuff, it took you a while of convincing when he finally slept next to you.

The next day was a pain honestly lmao, his arm was wrapped around you, he basically fell off the bed when he realized he hugged you in his sleep. Maybe a bit like:

Kyle grumbled in his sleep, the sun hit his eyes as he slowly opened his eyes. His gaze landed onto your sleeping body and his arm that was wrapped around your waist, his eyes widened as he gasped, backing away from you as he fell down to the floor. The loud crash made you wake up, you rubbed your eyes as you looked over Kyle who was breathless and rattled, "What's wrong..?" you mumbled, "N-nothing.. I just fell off" He stuttered.

lol Idk, I find it funny when things like that happen.

I can't think of anything anymore honestly, my brain is fried and this is just a worthless attempt to do head canons because I seems to can't write some.

[kodiackwrites]

B&B bulking cod men pt 2!

Konig, Soap & Ghost- pretty much filler but ending is important to plot

—-

The conversation with Konig was over as soon as it started as another door opened at out Soap came, Smiling as he picked up his tray, “Thank you las” he said as he walked right back into his room, As did Konig. Ghost however didn’t make a noise, just took the tray, and disappeared into his room.

Hours later the men would fill the common room, telling stories, the odd laugh and chuckle and funny arguments filled the building. Making you let out a small laugh as you mixed the pot that sat in the oven, watching the timer finish for the steaks in the oven.

You made quick work of organizing all three lunch plates, Half a steak, Half a salmon, some handmade mashed potatoes, with some greens on the side. You grabbed a large tray from under the sink and placed the plates onto each, With a tall glass of milk, and adding salt & pepper shakers onto the tray.

Soap was the first to notice your entrance to the common room, “whatcha got there lassie?” He asked, trying to see the tray, Making Ghost & Konig turn over as you placed the tray on the large table.

They all looked confused, turning to face you. “I figured I’d make you all lunch, I apologize if im over stepping, I just realized you hadn’t eaten yet and it’s getting a bit late for lunch.” You explained, gesturing to the clock that read 2:46.

“Thank you.” Ghost mumbled as he took his pick of the plates, shaking some salt and pepper over it. The rest of the men followed with thank you’s.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as you returned to the kitchen, cleaning the pots and pans you used to cook, Hearing the sound of cutlery scrapping at tapping against plates as then men silently ate.

Konig came in first, holding the tray covered in empty dishes, you thanked him and reached for the top plate, “non sense, you made us a meal the least I could do is the dishes, if that’s okay?” He asked kindly. “Go right ahead, just please leave them in the drying rack when you’re done.”

—

It has been nearly a week since the men had joined you, meaning they’d only be here for another. But the pattern of making them big breakfasts and lunch didn’t end. Due to them spending more time in the house instead of their usual leaving at 8:30 Am and coming home at 6, you’d grown closer to them, more so to Soap then the other too, but Konig would volunteer to help you clean up, and Ghost would silently do his share.

“What made you want to run a b&b? Isn’t it a bit dangerous in this area?” Ghost spoke up one evening after finishing his dinner, His voice was rough but he still had a British accent, the question caught you off guard, at first it was just for the money but you just never looked back once things started too run well. “I suppose it was just a quick way to get money when I first opened up, the house was rundown and too large for just me so I worked on it and got my permit.” You explained, “I guess it just worked out, I mean you guys are here every few months and there’s really no need to tip as much as you do.” You explained, “It’s a nice place, it’s the least we could do.” Konig chimed in, and Soap made a noise of agreement. “I suppose, It’s never what I wanted to do but hey, whatever makes the money.” You explained. “Perhaps you should join the military, the food you makes fuckin’ amazing. We could always use another cook.” Soap said with a chuckle, “Johnny don’t even try that.” Ghost grumbled angry in response, “I’m just saying, we could always use some better food at base and I’m sure this would suffice.” The scott argued back, “Alright enough, we’re not recruiting an innocent individual to cook for us.” Konig cut them off.

You thought for a moment, “I wouldn’t mind,” the men looked at you like deer in headlights. “That’s not just something you can decide on spot mate.” Ghost spoke up, Giving you a few minutes to think, he wasn’t wrong at all. But what would you be leaving behind? A few friends you barely speak too, a dead beat town? “True, but there’s not much going for me here other than this place.” You explain, “But I understand it’s not as easy as just volunteering and off I go.” Konig returned his attention to his plate, “I mean, if your records clean they might take you, got any professional cooking experience?” Soap asked, “I was a line cook for a few years, took hospitality and foods courses in college.”

Soap shrugged, “worth a shot if you really wanted to commit to it, you’d get slot more money then you would running this place, no offense.” He spoke, “it’s not the money that matters Soap”. Ghost argued again. “Sir- Ghost? I assure you I understand the risks of being involved in the military even as such an unimportant role.” You defended.

—

So here you are, a week after the conversation, sat with Soap finalizing your recruitment application. “So all the files are together?” He asked, you anxiously nodded as you handled him over the folder filled with all of your information. “Great lassie, I’ll be seeing ye soon then, thank you for letting us stay again.” He said with a nod and out the door he went, Following after Ghost and Konig.

[seat-safety-switch]

Once again, I am tested by my circumstances. The local animal shelter was looking for someone to drive some dogs to their various appointments. That responsibility fell to me, a drivers-license-having individual with a community service requirement with an “exponent” symbol in it in Microsoft Excel, to truck them there. Nobody else wanted to do it, possibly because some of the dogs have what medical experts are calling “the terror shits.”

Naturally, I couldn’t do this in my own car. Not only is the Volare incapable of holding any passengers due to the structural rust issues, but I like to keep the car clean. That’s why there’s the big holes in the floor: any dropped candy wrappers, stray strands of hair, or spilled coffees will just run out when I lift the floor mat on the expressway. No: the animal shelter was very insistent that what I would receive is a 2005 Chevy Express van, white-on-white.

This van was, well, a van. For some reason, everyone I met was apologizing to me about “how old” it was, and how they had “no money” in the budget with which to upgrade it. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that it was several decades newer than anything I’d ever operated, and I was a little bit intimidated by driving something that could go forward and backward, without having to turn the engine off and push it a little bit first.

Still, after a few minutes on the road, I immediately saw what they meant. It didn’t have any soul, this new automobile, being enormously competent at virtually every task. It didn’t shake violently on the highway, all the doors stayed closed, and it could go around corners without the windshield falling out. Soon, I was going an integer multiple of the posted speed limit, still feeling it was too slow because the sensation of danger was no longer prickling its way up my spine. I was practically falling asleep, and when I arrived at the vet’s office an hour away nearly 45 minutes ahead of schedule, I decided something had to be done for the safety of my canine charges.

While the dogs were in the shop, getting their tires rotated, I decided to do a little bit of work on my own. I had been stuck behind a slow-moving BMW SUV on the off-ramp. It was now parked outside a realtor’s office, taunting me with its copious reserve of compressed air and torque. I decided that if they weren’t gonna use their turbocharger, then I should rightfully be entitled to it. After all, it’s for the public good: who would deny these dogs an efficient, comfortable ride? Using the BMW’s toolkit and a piece of parking lot rebar as a lever, I soon had the turbocharger worked off of the engine, dropped out the bottom, and swaged into the van’s induction system. To test it out, I jumped in and pinned the throttle a few times, hearing the delightful whoosh of at least a hundred more horsepower. Yeah. This would do nicely.

All I’m legally allowed to tell you about what happened next is two things. One, the van really was less boring after all this work. The little V8 sang with the joys of forced induction, and the tires smoked well through however many gears this magic future transmission had in it. Two, it was a good thing I was going to the dog groomer’s next, because none of these animals were in a presentable shape. It turns out dogs afflicted with the terror-shits don’t like to pull a deep thirteen-second quarter mile, which is definitely something they should have told me before they gave me the keys.

Not every day of volunteering is going to be perfect. Next time I go back, I think I’ll cut a hole in the floor instead. At least that will make the cleanup easier.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Could you do a fluffy one shot of Vincent de gramont and the reader trying out clothes

“This really isn’t necessary” she told him as she was surrounded by seamstresses, taking her measurements.

“Oh but it is. It’s the least I can do after you so gallantly volunteered to save the day.” The Marquis remarked, smiling slyly.

Rolling her eyes, she couldnt help but smile at his antics. She highly doubted the validity of his supposed plight, of being unable to find a date to one of the most exclusive charity balls in Paris. All the richest elites from across Europe attended, dressed to the gills in the most extravagant gowns the high fashion houses had to offer. And here she was, a simple public servant, being fitted by the house of Dior. She was giddy.

“I think a form fitting gown in a blush or ivory would be ideal.” One of the seamstresses relayed.

“As long as it’s original, I don’t care about the cost. I’m trusting you won’t let me down.” The Marquis stated.

She couldn’t help but notice the flash of fear that crossed several of the women’s faces. Pondering over what could possibly make the finest fashion house fear someone, she decided he must be richer than she thought. The only fear she could imagine is the loss of a very generous client. Her head spun with the amount of money you’d need to spend, you make them even notice you.

All rising at once and exiting without a word to her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed they never spoke to her, except to tell her how to stand so they could measure her.

Too excited and frankly honored to have her own custom gown made for her, she stepped down from the platform.

“My beauty, they are only going to get some pieces for you to try.” He said halting her from exiting.

“I couldn’t possibly accept any more of your generosity…”

“Oh no no cherie! This is only so they can be sure how clothing falls on you and your preferences.” He assured her with one of his mind melting smiles.

“Oh well then that’s ok, I suppose.”

Just then 3 women returned to the fitting room with 3 racks of a wide range of selections. They all appeared to be breath taking and far out of her price range, but she wasn’t going to be difficult. Straining out a weary smile, she watched as the Marquis gave instructions to one of the girls, and exited to the viewing area.

Smiling warmly at the woman approaching her, she was surprised at the deer in the headlights look on her face. “Thank you for helping me today. I truly am honored to even be allowed to try these things on.”

Confusion passed between the women, until the one closest her, began to undress her. “You are very kind, but your beauty will do our creations a service. We should be thanking you.”

Smiling brightly, she was determined to be as polite and cooperative as possible, no matter how many things she needed to try.

Hours later, she felt how a Barbie doll must feel as she viewed the passing city in the hired car she’d been sent home in.

The Marquis was almost too good to be true. He was unbelievably handsome, polite, thoughtful and respectful. She’d had him looked into and he was active with many charities and took care of his only living realatives; two younger twin sisters, famous in the equestrian community.

His wealth came from toxic parents and investments made with an astonishing amount of revenue. He was perfect in every way, not having so much as a parking ticket, and even after several months, he never attempted to take advantage of the times they’d been alone.

She wasn’t sure that was a good thing. She had been hoping he’d kiss her tonight after dinner, but he’d only kissed her hand with those full sensual lips.

Bringing her hand to her lips, she kissed it tenderly where his lips had caressed her before. Laughing at herself, she was thankful she was alone in the car and thankful the privacy was up.

Peering out the window, she realized they had made it to her home. Thanking the driver, and making her way to her door, she nearly tripped and fell upon entering.

Feeling for the light, she flipped it on and nearly fell flat on her ass at the sight that met her eyes.

Dior packages covering every floor and every surface in her humble townhouse. It was like a fairy tale. She couldn’t help but squeal and run in place, before closing her door behind her.

Staring in disbelief, she wasn’t sure where to start. Pulling out her phone, she noticed a new message from the Marquis.

I may have lied, but it was for good reason. Forgive me?

She chuckled and thought on a witty response.

I don’t know. You’ll have to make it up to me.

Sending it before she could change her mind, she waited for his reply with great anticipation. Finally it came in.

I am yours, to do with, as you wish.

She couldn’t have stopped smiling, if someone put a gun to her head….

[pavardscherie]

Jealous benji , fucking out the bratiness of y/n

look at you, benjamin pavard

pairing benjamin pavard & female

summary she keeps commenting about how good his teammates looked at a birthday party, and benji takes her straight to the bathroom to fuck it out of her.

warnings 18+ required, sexual content, hand around throat, little blood mentioning

izzy talks.

just saying, imagine that man railing you, destroying you completely for saying that one of his teammates is actually good looking. i’m down for it, i volunteer.

my smut writing is still a little bit odd? idk, i’m still trying my best to write a good smut scene. hope this one is kind of alright.

whiskey glass tightly in his grip, the calloused fingertips pressing strongly against the thick material. an expensive sip of bourbon awaited to be drowned, the taste creating a sudden, burning feeling in the throat while swallowing. yet, benjamin slowly swung the drink in circles, eyes glued to the woman who held a conversation with two of his teammates.

he wasn’t the jealous type, until she decided to push the buttons, he didn’t know he had. oh, joshua looks really nice tonight. i couldn’t imagine him in a suit. she informed benjamin an hour ago, before disappearing in the crowd and finding the exact person for a conversation. she was playing with fire, close to being burned by the unhealthy mixture of anger and jealousy in pavard‘s stomach.

yet, he didn’t stop her. slipping out of his tight grasp on her ways, she reminded him that she loved to ignore the warnings, he whispered in her ear. „stop flirting with my mates.“ fingertips dug into her left hip, pushing her backside closer to his chest. he wasn’t hurting her, still, he knew he would leave marks. a reminder that she belonged to him; and none other. „i don’t understand your problem, benji.“ she pouted, wiggling against his tight grip, she pressed herself against his crotch for an advantage to escape.

„i swear, if you don’t stop, i won’t make any promises anymore.“ benjamin hissed, the warm breath fanning over her exposed neck. she always knew which buttons she had to push to change the moods. but pavard could not forget about the multiple comments about his teammates. „you’re hesitating. maybe i should get back to another one your teammates. maybe they will fuck me good.“ she provoked the already, dangerous mixture of emotions in the pit of his stomach. the bratiness in her words, and the tones of fake annoyance.

„you’ll badly regret that attitude.“ teeth grazed over his chewed-up bottom lip and he quickly drowned the bourbon for another boost of confidence. fleshy fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist, benjamin pulled his girlfriend towards the staircase. "benji, what the fuck? where are you going?" she tried to free her wrist from his painful grip, but benjamin was stronger. she knew that. "to teach you a lesson." the head tilted to the side, his answer was carelessly spoken over the shoulder and louder than needed. a gaze did not follow them, the teammates too occupied with their current conversation and the booze of the alcohol.

at the top of the staircase, benjamin entered the first room on the right. a large guest bathroom, which looked way more expensive than the usual ones. manual truly earned enough money, to have at least two houses or even three.

closing the door behind them, pavard immediately locked it. he did not need his teammates to see the anger awoken inside of him. running the sweaty palms across the face, the centre back walked closer to his girlfriend. back turned to the football player, she admired the ornaments around the mirror and took a sip from the red wine glass, she carried with her.

benjamin‘s hands rested on her waist, pushing her forwards and harshly against the counter beside the sink. a surprised gasp coaxed out, she furrowed the brows. turning around wasn’t an option, she was trapped between pavard‘s towering figure and the counter. the only way to see him was through the reflection in the mirror. yet, benjamin didn’t glance at her while hiking the hem of her dress up.

the red, lacy thong disappeared between her round ass cheeks, the color a beautiful contrast to her skin. a groan slipped out of his mouth at the delicious sight. running the palm over the curves, benjamin glanced at the mirror. she had the lids closed, bathing in the sensation of his sensitive touch. mischief tugged on the corner of his mouth, a smirk spreading over the face.

drawing his hand back, he slapped her the right check with a small amount of force. yelping in surprise, she tried to stand up. angered by the actions, she desired to question the intentions. but benjamin thought faster. a hand sprawled out on the small of her back, he pushed against her and held her in the position. „don’t.“ benjamin growled, repeating the slapping to her left cheeks. small red dots formed on her skin, a light reminder of what happened behind closed doors.

„what’s your problem?“ she protested, feeling the stinging in both cheeks. throughout the months, benjamin has been always gentle, never left marks on other places than her hips. but this was different, it was much rougher. „i’m fucking out that attitude.“

he wasn’t looking at her anymore, his eyes focused on her ass. calloused fingers spread the cheeks, and pulled the thin underwear to the side. a small spot drenched in arousal proved that she enjoyed the roughness more than she admitted. dipping his fingers lower, the wetness pooled between her clenched legs and welcomed his touch. „benjamin, stop. they could hear us!“ she tried to protest again, but met the deaf ears of her boyfriend.

„not like you cared when you wanted to seduce kimmich.“ benjamin chuckled deeply, the long fingers running over her clit. seconds of touch was enough to turn her into a whimpering, needy mess. leaning forward, his chest pressed against her back, he repeated the movement of his fingers. slowly stroking over her clit. "no, mon amour. you don't deserve the easy way out of this."

the muttered words were almost a threat, a warning about what he has planned as a punishment. bliss melted from her face, leaving behind a somber fear of what awaited her. "benjamin.." she trailed off, the words heavy but the tone extremely gentle. shaking his head, the mischievous glint in the deep brown of his eyes drove her absolutely wild. she could feel a warm jolt of desire, burning in her core, underneath the traces of his fingertips.

leaning back in position, benjamin's hands retreated from her figure for merely seconds to open the zipper. pants and briefs pulled down slightly - only enough to free his erection from the fabric prison. „that fucking bratiness..“ benjamin growled, not wasting another second and pushing his dick into her wet hole. pleasure infiltrated by the pain of being stretched out all at once, without feeling his scissoring finger. a deep moan trembled out of her parted lips, the lids closed to bath in the moment of bliss.

one hand placed on her waist, his left hand brushed the long strands over her shoulder. calloused fingers snug around her neck, wrapping around her throat. tightly, but not enough to decline the breathing. „punishment.“ the football player muttered, drawing his hips back until only the reddened tip was left inside of her. before she had a chance to react, benjamin‘s hips collided with her marked ass in a hard and deep thrust.

balls smacked against her clit, the arousal dropped down the insides of her thighs. she did not want to enjoy the punishment. but resistance was an unexisting word with her lover‘s dick deep inside of her. rough always became their escape route to the usual, romantic and slow hours in bed. she couldn’t complain, he always made her feel like swaying in heaven. the sound of skin hitting against one each others flooded and echoed through the tiled bathroom.

benjamin‘s thrusts were perfectly angled, hitting her g-spot over and over again. the bottom lip captured between his teeth, his darkened orbs focused on the way his dick easily slipped in and out of her warmth. swallowing the deep groans, the erotic sight caused a difficulty to keep a steady rhythm.

still, he never came before her. benjamin needed the intense pulsating around his cock, her walls holding him tightly inside of her and milking the cum.

his thrust were hard, pressing her hip bones stronger against the marble counter with each movement. blue marks would be left as a reminder around her stomach.

a loud, breathy moan left her mouth as benjamin pulled her chest towards him, arching her back. a position to reach deeper spots. a chance to increase the roughness of his thrusts. „you’re so beautiful when you’re fucked out.” face nuzzled into the mess of hair, the groans were silenced by the thickness of the strands. glancing at the mirror, he applied more pressure on her throat. “look at you.”

lids opened to follow the demands, the pupils dilated as a tear rolled down her cheek. a trail of mascara left on her red-tinted skin, the water gathered in the corners of her eyes. lipstick faded on her bottom lips, a reminder of how often her teeth chewed on the soft skin to keep quiet. “will you be a good girl for the rest of the night?” he muttered, punctuating his question with a particular hard thrust.

she whimpered, the quivering bottom lip pushed out. trapped between bliss and pain, she drifted deeply into the pleasure. hands holding on to the counter, the glass already laid on the floor. red wine left stains on the beige carpet, and she knew, manuel would question the origin. “i said, will you be a good girl for the rest of the night?” benjamin stopped his thrust, squeezing her windpipe tighter for barely a second.

“y-yes.” she coaxed out, and benjamin’s hand immediately loosened to allow the inhaling and exhaling again. after all, he didn’t want her to faint from the lack of oxygen. “then be a good girl, and cum for me.”

she did not recognize if the pace of his hips increased to a godly speed, or if his whispered demands ignited another burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. a familiar tingling, a sensation that made her legs tremble from the intensity. head fell forward, the lids closed and the mouth widely open. moans, loud and quiet ones, in different octaves left her throat, the waves of bliss washing over her. “benjamin.” she repeated over again between the labored breaths.

her walls fluttered around his dick, tightly wrapping him up with warmth and pushing him into the bliss of his own orgasm. whimpers and whines filled the bathroom. but benjamin’s sounds were simple, a deep growl and muttered ‘fucks’ as he painted the insides of her pussy in a milky white.

heavy and warm breaths mixed in the thick air around them, the hasty breaths floated as the only leftover sounds through the bathroom. a dark apple-red covered the span of her cheeks, mascara smeared around the eyes from the intensity of emotions. taking a step back from the heat of her soft skin, benjamin pulled himself out of her and tugged his dick away. arousal flooded down the insides of her thigh, mixed with the white spurts of him.

calloused fingertips stroke over her leg, the reminder of their orgasms carefully wiped away. but he wasn’t going to waste it, as his long digits found the still stretched out pussy, and pushed the remains back inside before placing the thin lace panties over her clit and between her ass cheeks again.

“better not waste any of the precious stuff.”

[dragonflight203]

ME1 replay thoughts, wrapping up the Citadel quests:

-The Quarians have uncovered the most mass relays. Logical enough, since they spend all their time in space

-Fist is long gone, but everyone is still talking about him like he's alive. Not sure if that's a bug or an oversight on Bioware's part

-There are a lot of humans in the Wards. I'm going to assume Shepard's in the Citadel equivalent of Chinatown for humans

-There aren't any Turians in the Wards until the Markets. Was that intentional on Bioware's part because of humanity's poor relations with them?

-Conrad's "wife" will love him hanging a picture of femshep in their living room. Uh uh. Sure.

-Starting the Keeper quest by speaking to Jahleed sure leads to different results! Had to fight Chorban. And volunteering to scan the Keepers means I missed out on the paragon points when I returned to Jahleed. :/ Worth seeing once, but not repeating in the future.

-The Keepers and the Citadel are a total blackbox. How did anyone get the idea that inhabiting this place was a good idea, much less making it the center of government? And why don't they at least research it?

-Yep, running all over the Citadel again to scan the Keepers is very aggravating.

-Just how did Septimus learn Xeltan's secrets?

-Turians only wear those hoods in the Wards, not on the Presidium. There are Turians in casual clothes on the Presidium, so I suppose the hoods are just super casual? Like hoodies?

-The Banes person who blackmails Dr. Michel is built up, and then goes absolutely nowhere. Others have said it more eloquently than me, but it is a letdown.

-Shai'ra's words are a bit disappointing to me. Insightful, I suppose, but not so poetic to be beautiful or helpful to be meaningful. I don't mind helping her, but I'm not counting the words as a reward.

-And again once she's done with me and asks me to leave, because she's everything she can for me... I'm just saying, Shepard could probably use a massage. Or someone that isn't a crewmate to talk to. This is what makes me feel used. At least invite me back for tea next time I'm on the Citadel or something.

It's like the consort wants to know everyone except Shepard.

-The Signal Source sidequest is probably the closest Mass Effect comes to foreshadowing the end of ME3, sadly enough. And a large chunk of players probably never started it, and even fewer probably finished it.

-I should have realized Tali would object to possibly resolving matters with the Signal Source peacefully. Of course she would assume it would turn on us. And it insisting that organics must destroy or control synthetics doesn't help.

Still nothing that even hints at Synthesis.

-Interesting. It's possible that Schells was involved in its creation.

The creator originally created a machine to help funnel money from gambling terminals. That machine became an AI, which created the Signal Source, and the original machine was destroyed when the creator realized it was sentient. And who did I just run into that created a device for winning at Quasar in Flux?

However, the Signal Source says the creator is currently serving time in a Turian prison, so Schells probably isn't the creator. They may or may not know each other. Or the Signal Source could have been lying about the creator, the Turian Prison, or both.

-Running all over the Citadel to check each shop is so tedious. Money will become meaningless soon enough, but right now I have very little. At least I picked up a half decent armor for Tali.

[thewayofthemandalorian]

all’s faire - chapter nine

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,902

Notes: The final chapter. I’m in a bit of disbelief that this story is over already. I’m also floored by the reception that this series has gotten, and I’m touched that so many people have found such joy in Pero and Florecita’s love story. I’m going to be writing another modern!au with Pero Tovar at some point. All my love and appreciation goes to @ezrasbirdie​ for beta-reading and being such a cheerleader for this story from the very beginning when it was in early stages. And as always a massive thank you to @lowlights​ for being such a massive supporter of this story and also yelling at me in the DM’s. I adore you both ❤️

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, kissing, minor argument/disagreement that is quickly resolved, grief, non-explicit sexual content (including semi-public sex/needing to be quiet), proposals

previous chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (pero tovar)

The penultimate weekend of Faire comes and goes. You spend time with Sarah, catching up and chit-chatting in between customers. 

The Westport Faire is starting this weekend so most people are attending that one. It makes for a long two days. “Is it always this slow?” you ask Sarah halfway through Sunday afternoon. “The last couple of weekends?”

Sarah ponders for a minute. “Yeah. Typically,” she replies. “It would be a lot less stressful for everyone involved if Lockwood’s was four weeks instead of six. Free up more of the summer, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But I’d like to actually do something with my summer weekends too. I think the kids would love having more of their summer, too.” You’re sure that Cassie wouldn’t mind doing it the entire year. But she’s an outlier in many ways.  

The tavern is dead. Your volunteers are busy wiping down the tables and counting the money from what sales you and Sarah have made today. 

Your mind wanders to Pero. If you have the schedule correctly, the next duel is in fifteen minutes. Would he come in? 

“Next weekend should be fun, though,” Sarah continues. 

You look up from the piece of wood on the bar that you’ve been absently staring at. “Hm?” 

Sarah adjusts her corset a little bit. “That’s another thing that would be great about only four weekends instead of six. Less damage to the girls and the internal organs. Anyway. Yeah, the last weekend of faire is always…” She smiles softly with a glint of mischief in her eyes as she searches for the word. “...Special. Hey, you should see if your sister wants to come next weekend. She hasn’t been out yet, has she?” 

You have no idea what she is talking about. Wasn’t the first weekend typically the special weekend if there was going to be one? It was special to you, anyway. Or at least to your character. It was the weekend that your handfasting had happened. The weekend that had changed everything and truly set things between you and Pero into motion. Had it only been a month ago? How quickly things change. 

Clearing your throat, you say, “No. She hasn’t. I’ll see if she wants to next weekend.” 

As if summoned by your thoughts, Pero enters the tavern. His hair is slightly rumpled, sweat beading on his forehead. Automatically, you pour him a glass of water and bring it over to him. “My captain,” you say, curtsying as he takes the glass from you. 

He downs it in two sips, setting the glass down on the table. Gathering you in his arms, he kisses you. “Florecita.” It’s a chaste kiss. It always has to be at Faire. Or almost always. You reach up and smooth his hair. “Might you accompany me to the duel?” he asks. “If Matilda will give you leave?” He glances at Sarah.

She quickly reassumes her Faire accent. “Oh, aye. Just so long as you return her to me.” 

Pero’s look of mischief settles against you, low in your belly. “I make no promises, Señorita Matilda. I may steal her away.” 

Sarah stifles a giggle, trying to stay in character. “Very well. Do with her as you will.” 

Pero gives you a searing look that only adds to the feeling low in your stomach. He’s doing this on purpose. “Oh, I intend to.”

Taking your hand in his, he leads you out of the tavern and into the hot, sunny afternoon. You lean close, dropping your Faire accent. “I have something to tell you tonight,” you murmur into his ear. To an outsider it looks like you’re sharing a moment with your captain. And in a way you are.

Lin-Mae had given you the go-ahead to tell people about your promotion this morning when you arrived at Faire, the paperwork finally having gone through. Now you can tell people. And the person you’re most excited to tell is standing right beside you. 

They’re close, Pero and Lin-Mae. The two people that love William the most and the two people that were loved by him the most. You think back to what Lin-Mae said about you being family. William and Pero were like brothers. And you can’t help but wonder if Pero already knows what you have to tell him. 

Pero squints at you in the hot sun, curiosity piqued. “I await your news with eager anticipation,” he says, a million thoughts going through his head. He lifts your joined hands to his mouth and kisses them, right where your palm meets his. 

Yeah, you’re excited to tell him.

- - - - 

You tell him as you chop the tomatoes for the pasta he’s cooking that night. Both freshly showered, your overdress and chemise are in the washing machine with some of Pero’s clothes. You’ve stolen another one of his shirts, not wanting to get dressed again since you’re only going to be taking your clothes off in a matter of a few hours. Clementine weaves herself between your legs and you stoop down to give her some scritches behind her ears that she loves getting so much. “What did you want to tell me, cielito?” Pero asks. 

You resume your chopping. “I got a bit of a promotion,” you start. “The paperwork just got finished on Friday but Lin-Mae didn’t want me to tell anyone until it was finalized.”

Pero just smiles at you. “Is this what you were buzzing about on Tuesday night?” he asks. He doesn’t sound surprised. Pleased and excited for you, yes. Surprised, no. 

You grin back at him. “Yeah,” you reply. “Lin-Mae wants me to take over as store manager so she can go and help with her parents.” 

Pero leaves the onion and the garlic that he’s sauteing in the frying pan, comes over to you. “I knew it,” he murmurs. “Well, I didn’t know. But I had my suspicions.” You look up at him, setting the knife down next to the cutting board as he embraces you. “I knew that Lin-Mae was looking to step back so that she could pursue other things. It was me that made the suggestion. But I didn’t know she had given it any thought.” 

This piece of information startles you and you pull away from his warm embrace to better look at him. “Wh — you suggested me?” you ask. “When?” 

Pero thinks for a minute. “The second weekend of Faire,” he shrugs. 

This revelation stuns you. “That was before — what?” Pero picks up the cutting board with the tomatoes on it, brings it over to the frying pan to add to the garlic and onions. They sizzle in the frying pan and Pero reduces the heat before turning back to you. 

“I—” Pero pauses for a second. “I knew your work ethic even then. You’re dedicated and committed and… you needed something that was just your own. I —” 

Whatever else he has to say is cut off as you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him, your hands cradling his face. His hands rest on your waist. No one’s ever been this considerate, ever done something quite like this for you. Even if it was before you realized your feelings for each other, it was a romantic thing for Pero to do. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said or done for me.” 

You stand like that for a minute, him holding you close. You love this man with everything you have. And this revelation is all but a declaration of love from him. You’re sure of it. Eventually, Pero turns back to the mixture in the frying pan. You follow close behind, embracing him from behind, your cheek resting against his back. 

Over dinner, you talk about how you’ll have to find an employee to take over from what you’ve been doing. 

“Perhaps Cassandra?” he suggests. It’s a small thing, but you kind of adore how he always calls her by her full name. It’s such a Pero-ism. You wonder if he’ll ever call her Cassie. Wonder if she’s ever told him that Cassie is fine. 

With a smile, you consider asking Cassie. “Maybe. I don’t know if she would want to work with me as her boss.”

“That is true. I’ll think of someone if you like.” 

Your fingers play with his. “That would be great. I want to avoid nepotism hiring too, at least for the time being.” 

After dinner, he takes you up to his bedroom. He takes his time with you, pulls you apart piece by piece. First with his mouth and his fingers and then again with his body. He holds you close as you reach that high, his name a stifled cry from your mouth. 

When you come back to yourself, it’s your turn to show him how he makes you feel. It’s never the same twice with Pero. Each time feels like the first time. You hope it never gets old. That it never feels rote or routine, like it’s something you have to do with him. It’s still such a new thing, what you have with Pero. But it also feels like you’ve known him for a lifetime. Have loved him for a lifetime. And that thought doesn’t frighten you. 

As you fall asleep, Clementine resting next to you (she found her way into the bedroom as you and Pero were sharing in your afterglow), you snuggle closer to Pero. Hoping that you never know a life without him.

- - - -

“What does this mean for Faire planning?” asks Pero the next morning over breakfast, his tone suggesting it’s not the first time he’s thought of this. 

You frown. “Ummm… not sure. But you know, I can help you. I might be a bit of a newbie, but I know how to plan events. I have some ideas.”

Pero takes a sip of his coffee. “I know you do, amor. And I want to hear them. But Lin-Mae has always been my co-planner.” 

You’re not sure why, but this irks you a little bit. You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lungs. “I know she has. But I’m going to tell you the same thing she told me. Phones exist. Computers, too. And don’t worry, it’s not like any of my ideas are terribly drastic.” 

It’s Pero’s turn to sigh. “It won’t be the same.” His voice is a snap. Why is he being so pigheaded about this?

It’s then that you catch the look in Pero’s eyes. This has nothing to do with Faire. It’s the fact that a piece of William isn’t going to be around as much anymore. That it might be changing his legacy. This is one of the last things he has of William. And he doesn’t want to tarnish his best friend’s memory or goals. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “I know it’s silly…” 

You shake your head. “No it isn’t,” you reply, taking his hands in yours. “It’s important to you. But it’s too much to do all by yourself. Lin-Mae will still help where she can and I can help you, too. You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to do everything all by yourself. I promise. You carry too much weight on your shoulders.” You pause. “I remember what you said to me a few weeks ago. That this is supposed to be fun,” you remind him. 

He nods without a word. He’s quiet for a moment, save for a breathy, shaky exhale. “I know. I forget that sometimes. But this is important to me.” 

“I know it is, Pero. And I can help you to make sure that it stays important. You’ve got me, now. Remember?” 

Pero’s hands grip yours just a little bit tighter for a moment. “I don’t think I could forget that.” He presses his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs to you after a minute.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you tell him and you mean it. “Let me help you make this into the best Faire Lockwood Falls has ever seen.” 

He presses his lips to your cheek and you close your eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, querida.” 

A few hours later, he drops you back at Tess’s house. Tess is home, needing to be there for the plumber to fix the leaky shower. 

The reason for him dropping you off is two-fold. One is to come over for dinner and meet your sister and niece in this new capacity — he already knows Cassie and Tess from school, but he hasn’t met your sister in any other capacity. Not really.

“Why don’t you go inside and unpack? Maybe make us all some tea?” Tess suggests to you. Cassie gets up from her seat to come and help you but at the last minute sits back down. Her mom must have shot her a look to stay where she is. 

While you’re inside, Pero sits down on one of the porch chairs. “How are you, Ms. Miller?” he asks. 

“Tess is fine, Pero. You know me well enough. Plus, you’re seeing my sister. And I’m fine.”

Pero knows exactly what this is. Your parents aren’t here to give the “what are your intentions with our daughter?” speech, so it falls to Tess, who’s stepped into the role of protective big sister with ease. “That’s good.” 

Your sister doesn’t beat around the bush. It must be a genetic thing. “So you and my sister…” she starts. “How serious is it?” 

He clears his throat. “Very serious. I love her. She makes me want to be a better man.” Tess nods, impressed with this answer. Pero fidgets for a second before continuing. “Um… Cassandra already knows this since she was there when I told Lin-Mae this plan, but I have something planned for the last weekend of Faire.” 

Cassie’s eyes light up with excitement. “It’s why we want you to come this weekend. Well, also, I want you to see what we’ve been doing.” 

Tess raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asks, listening intently as Pero, with the aid of Cassie, tells her what the plan is for the final weekend. She’s never heard him speak this much. He doesn’t think he’s ever said this amount in such a short timespan.

You return with a tray of tea and some cookies just as he’s finishing telling your sister what is planned for this weekend. It’s planned for Sunday, the final day of Faire. 

There’s a weird energy in the air. Tess looks at you with a look that’s unreadable. Cassie is grinning. “Is everything… okay?” you ask, handing Pero his cup of tea. 

The three of them nod. “Mmm-hmmm. Everything’s fine,” Cassie says. 

Sitting down next to Pero, his free hand comes to rest on your thigh. “Never go into espionage, kid,” you tell Cassie. 

Tess just takes a long sip of her tea. 

After dinner, you and Tess clean the kitchen as Pero sits in the living room. You wonder if it’s a bit strange for him, to be spending time with one of his students. That he’s dating a relative of one of his students. “What was all that about this afternoon?” you ask.

Tess looks up from the dishwasher. “Hmm? Oh, nothing,” she says. “He and Cassie were just telling me about Faire.” 

You nod, not without a healthy dose of skepticism. “Right. Okay.” Knowing that you’re not going to get anything else out of her, whatever it is, it’s a secret not for your ears yet. Maybe that’s why Sarah was acting squirrely on Sunday, too. Changing the subject, you say, “What do you think? Is he worthy?” 

Tess nods. “Yeah. He’s a bit prickly but you’re good for each other. He said…No, I shouldn’t say it,” she says, thinking about how he told her that he loves you. It’s clear that those words haven’t been spoken out loud yet between the two of you. She doesn’t want to be the one that says it for either of you. “Do you love him?” she asks instead. 

You look over at him where he’s having a discussion with Cassie about the upcoming school year, just what every teenager on summer vacation wants to talk about. You smile. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.” 

Once the dishes are done, you find that Pero is gone from the living room. “Bathroom,” Cassie says, not looking up from her phone. 

The bathroom door opens, but Pero doesn’t come back. You go to find him; he’s in your room. At the sound of you at the door, he turns from the bookshelf. Shutting the door, you walk over to him, your hands go to his sides, stroking up and down. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you ask. You know he was nervous about this. 

Pero shakes his head. “No. This was lovely.” You lean up and kiss him. 

The kiss turns heated. Pero pulls you closer to him, his need for you apparent very quickly. “Pero,” you murmur in between kisses. He moves his lips down your neck, asking the question without vocalizing it. “Yes. I want you. I need you.”  

“We’ll need to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me, bebita?” His voice is pure sin. And you are no saint. 

While you usually prefer the freedom of being able to vocalize your pleasure, there is something to be said about the urgency. About Pero’s big hand against your mouth as he presses kisses into your skin in between his growls of “that’s my good girl, taking me so well,” having his way with you against the wall of the guest room of your sister’s house. Something that you like very, very much.

If Tess and Cassie hear your muffled sounds, your hushed cries and moans of pleasure against Pero’s hand, or the sound of skin on skin, they don't mention it when you come out some time later for dessert and a game of Scrabble. Nor do they mention your rumpled clothes and the love marks that you and Pero left behind on each other or ask why the window is open when it’s starting to rain.

- - - - 

The rest of the week passes with little fanfare. On Friday after work, Pero picks you up and takes you out for dinner. You’re spending more and more time at his place that it’s beginning to feel like home. Then again, it’s always felt like home.

Saturday’s Faire feels normal. It’s the final Saturday of the Faire so it feels a bit bittersweet. At the beginning of all this, you had no idea that it would play out quite like this. It plays out as it always has. You spend more time with Pero than you do at the tavern. It’s become a lot more loose and relaxed, you and he roaming the Faire grounds together between duels, you and Sarah meandering around at other points of the day. You’ve mentioned some of your ideas to him and he’s beginning to take them into consideration. There are forty-six weeks until the next Faire begins after all.

Sunday, however, is an entirely different story. Pero wakes you early, makes love to you as the sun rises. He whispers in your ear, “You’re my special girl. My florecita. I’m so happy I found you.” 

Once you arrive at the grounds, Sarah ushers you away from Pero. You’re not sure why, since you’re both already laced up. She brandishes a flower crown. “Since it’s the last day and all,” she says with a wink, placing it on your head. “Perfect. A pirate captain’s queen.” 

That’s not the first time she’s said that. “Is there something different about today?” you ask.

Sarah shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clearly she’s in on this, too. 

If Saturday was lax, today is entirely laid-back. People come in and out and you stay in character. But you never see Pero all day. Not even when you and Sarah meander around the grounds, interacting with guests and taking in the last day of this year’s Faire. 

Tess only shows up near the end of the day. She has a turkey leg in one hand, a map in the other. “You look nice,” she says. “Oh, yes. The flower crown is a perfect touch,” she says to Sarah. “I’ll admit, I didn’t know what to expect, but this is really something.” 

At four-thirty, half an hour before the Faire is supposed to end, Pero finally comes into the tavern. “I do apologize, Captain, but we are no longer in service for this day,” Sarah says. 

“I am not here for a drink,” replies Pero. “I am here to see my intended.”

You walk over to him, suddenly shy. Whatever Tess, Cassie and Sarah are in on, he’s got something to do with it. “My Captain,” you murmur. You go to curtsy as you always do, but he catches your chin before you can, lifting it with one finger, allowing you to look at him. 

“Bonita. Mi amor.” He’s speaking as Pero, not as the captain and mercenary to your tavern maid. “Will you come with me?” he asks, looking shy. 

With a nod, you take his hand and follow his lead, vaguely aware that you have an entourage trailing behind you. Sarah and Tess take up the rear, following you through the Faire grounds. 

You recognize where you’re going as soon as you turn the bend that leads to the smithy. You haven’t been here since the first weekend. Not since — 

Lin-Mae, Will Ballard and Cassie are standing there. 

Oh. You turn to Pero. “What’s going on? We’re already handfasted. I think we’ve still got time.”

He smiles at you. “No we’re not. Captain Bastian is handfasted to the tavern wench. I am not handfasted to you.” 

You’re suddenly very aware of your heartbeat and your breathing. “I see,” you hear yourself say.

Pero continues. “I never expected this summer to turn out the way it did. But I am so glad that it did. I am so glad it was you that Cassandra brought to me at the handfasting ceremony on the first weekend. I love you. And I wanted this last day to be a reflection of the first weekend. To celebrate how far we’ve come.”

Tears prick your eyes. “I love you too, Pero.” He bends to kiss you, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb as he leans his forehead against yours.

With a shivering breath, you and Pero turn to face Lin-Mae and Will Ballard, ready for the handfasting ceremony.

Like the first time, everything melts away except for you and Pero. Nothing else matters except for him and you and his hand around yours. The feeling that you had the first time around, the feeling about him protecting you and taking care of you, returns tenfold, because he has. He will. The faint sensation of the handfasting string being woven around your hands with each new vow as you and Pero look into each other’s eyes. 

“You are bound for a year and a day. At the end of this time, should you wish to remain so, return to me and state your intention. Otherwise you are free to go your separate ways.” You and Pero seal your vows with a kiss, more tears streaming down your face. 

“I love you. And I want you to move in with me. And I want to spend time with you,” Pero murmurs.

You nod against his forehead. “I love you. I want those things too. We can figure things out.”

You have a year and a day. You’ve got a lot of time to figure it out. You’ll figure things out together.

- - - -

One year and one day later

“How’s Chicago? How are your parents?” you ask as you open the door for Lin-Mae. It’s Monday so the store is closed. You’ve kept the same hours. Pero came through with finding you an employee in Delilah Patterson. She’s a good kid and a hard worker. 

Lin-Mae is in town for a “staff meeting” or so she says. But really she’s here to see Dan, but used wanting to see how the store is going this summer as an excuse. Despite the fact that she’s been here for the last month and a half for Faire.

“It’s good. And they’re fine. The studio is almost ready to open, too.” 

You sit down in the cafe part of the store, coffees already made for the both of you. It’s been an interesting year. You officially moved out of your sister’s guest room the third week of August last year into what is now Pero and your house. “It was already your home, mi amor,” he’d said to you. “You are home.” Clementine had agreed with that statement completely, settling in on the couch between you and Pero that night, purring loudly as you gave her pets and scritches. For a cat who doesn’t like strangers, she warmed up to you in no time flat. She almost always sleeps curled up beside you in the bed.

Since taking over in planning Faire with Pero from Lin-Mae for the most part (she is still involved in planning and gets final say for more questionable changes but you have taken over most of the more mundane and smaller things) most things have stayed the same. But there were also some changes as well. For starters, you’d bartered a shorter run time, reducing it from six weeks to four so it ran through the last weekend of June and the first three weekends of July. Giving everyone involved more time to plan and more time to enjoy the summer. Though you had met Pero’s parents at Christmas when they came to visit, you have plans to go to Mallorca in August with him to spend two weeks and meet the rest of his family. Another perk of cutting things a bit shorter at Faire, getting to do more things like this with Pero. 

Speaking of Faire, you and Sarah also aren’t as tethered to the tavern as you had been last year. You had enlisted staff from Nick’s to come in and work the tavern so that you and Sarah could float around through the Faire grounds or be in the tavern if you so chose. The handfasting storyline between your tavern wench and Pero’s captain-slash-mercenary has stayed in place and everything was overall a lot more easygoing and relaxed while maintaining what William had wanted it to be. 

It had been your idea to put a commemorative plaque at the entrance to the Faire grounds, honouring and remembering William Garin as the man who first came up with the idea. The best friend, brother figure and husband with a big heart. 

The meeting doesn’t last long, not that you suspected it would. “Everything seems to be in order,” says Lin-Mae, handing your portfolio back to you. 

The bell jingles as the door opens. “I thought I locked that,” you murmur, getting up to see who it is and to tell them that the store is closed. But then you see who it is. “Hey, love,” you greet your boyfriend with a kiss. “What’s up?”

Pero hugs you and then looks over your shoulder. “Your Majesty,” he says in a serious voice as Lin-Mae comes closer. Her shoulder bag is slung across her, she’s ready to go. You frown at him quizzically; Faire’s been over for a solid two weeks, why is he referring to Lin-Mae like this? She must be confused as well because she shares your look of slight bemused bewilderment. “It has been one year and one day since you have bound me to this woman. I am here to state my intentions.”

Lin-Mae looks puzzled for a second longer before realization dawns for her.

And then it dawns for you too.

With a knowing smile, Lin-Mae says, “By all means, go ahead. But I hardly think I need to be here.” To you she says, “I’ll see you and Sarah tomorrow night?” 

Mutely, you nod and Lin-Mae sees herself out, locking the door behind her.

“Pero…” you start. When you turn around, he’s kneeling down on one knee. “Pero,” you repeat, your throat clogged all of a sudden.

He says your name. “I love you. You’re the love of my life. You’re mi florecita and I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Will you marry me?” Pero pulls a ring box out of his pocket and opens it, revealing a simple diamond ring. 

You sink down to your knees so you’re on his level when you answer, a breathless, “Yes, Pero. Yes!” Wrapping your arms around him, you meet his lips for a kiss. When you break apart, he takes the ring out and slides it on your finger. “It was my abuela's,” he tells you before he picks you both up off the floor and takes you in his arms and kisses you soundly. 

Just over a year ago, you never expected that you would get along with this man—the man who is now your fianc��—let alone be in love with him and want to spend your life with him. You’ve never been so wrong, or so glad to be wrong, in your entire life.

The End

--- taglist in reblog

[olderthannetfic]

Re: https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/720791837582983168/tbh-im-quite-shocked-by-all-the-anons-here?source=share

The thing about the OTW publicly suspecting an ex-volunteer is that a) the ex-volunteer was the one who had theorised in a public post that she might have been a suspect first. And she identified herself by username in it. And speculated that she'd been unjustly suspended after that email attack she was the suspect of. So b) the OTW was responding org-internally to current-volunteers' questions brought on by the ex-volunteer's post and they c) did not name her, so only the current volunteers who knew about the ex's post would've been able to identify her as that ex-volunteer. You can't cry defamation if you self-defame, first, and defamation requires that the other person is lying about the reasoning for their suspicion.

As for the CSEM ticket handling and the treatment of the PAC members, esp that ex-vol who worked CSEM tickets, I'm of the opinion that if you take on that work, it's your job to make a call whether or not the material in front of you contains an actual minor. Yes, 99% of it is going to be tickets about cartoon porn or GOT fanfic or whatever, but live-action porn is very much something that you might have to evaluate, too, and she straight-up said she wasn't able to tell with certainty, and so wanted to ban the content (which was fan*fiction* + the ambiguous porn gif) based on it being tagged Underage just to be safe. And it's fine that she said she couldn't tell, but she doesn't get to complain that she was forced to evaluate and eventually dismiss (due to the person in it not being clearly identifiable as a minor) that content, when by her own words, she wasn't forced. She'd also stated that she was working these tickets by choice so the other members wouldn't have to, but now people spin it as if she was chained to her desk and given nothing but CSEM reports. That's unjust framing.

Neither is it ok to want to suspend a user for tags that from context clearly pertain to a *fictional* work. She says she was told she couldn't ban it despite wanting to because "Legal says gifs are transformative fanworks and Disney had recently implied it wanted to crack down on gifs", which, to me, carries the implication that Legal said to ignore CSEM if it comes in the form of gifs or other transformative works. When what that actually is, is the obscenity exception about visual sexual content in which no real kid appears to have actually participated (if the pics are not of a child, but meant to be about underage sex, they need to be obscene under the Miller test to be illegal, and transformative works have artistic value). Which is stuff that she, as the former go-to CSEM ticket girl of the OTW, should actually know. Granted, the one bit I don't doubt at all is that unpaid volunteers don't give or receive enough training, but personally, when questions of legality and attached morality (is this ruling fair, or harmful?) haunt me, I look shit up. And I don't believe for a moment that Legal did not look that shit up despite specialising in IP-law, or had misunderstood CSEM laws to such a degree that they'd actually say it's not CSEM if it's a gif.

I've seen people now - that ex-volunteer among them - demand a mental healthcare budget, at least for post-emergency-use, and call failure to provide that neglectful. The lack of mental health support in a unpaid-volunteer run org for the people who do this kind of important work is unfortunate, and was even more so in the aftermath of the email attack, but the OTW can't just magic that money for 900 people's healthcare up. Them continuing not to pay (cause that's what it is) their volunteers after a crisis is not abuse or neglectful.

The majority of their (the ex-vol's and allied vols) points seem either ignorant or deliberately framing themselves as the victims of some horribly abusive organisation who made them look at and shelter CSAM and is now bullying them after they blew the whistle on it. I don't really see anything worth getting the whistle out for, here, so yes, I think it's a smear campaign.

--

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Performative Guilt

Summary: At the mall, Eijiro watches as his buddy Bakugou approaches a green haired woman. He is shocked bu what follows.

Notes: A short written after reading one to many 'Bakugou is very guilty feeling after Izuku jumps' fics where Bakugou has nothing happen to him. This is very Anti Bakugou. Could be part of a larger work one day? I like the idea behind it at least.

If you like my work and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 When Class 1A showed up at the mall to hang out, Eijiro was happy to get their most moody  classmate to come. Bakugou Katsuki was a loud kind of guy who tended to be a bit rough but you could tell he was a good guy. His hero name was the Deku Hero: Dynamight! You don't get that kind of name from nothing. He volunteered at Quirkless shelters and donated money to charities! The guy was just a bit of a rough asshole, but given his Quirk he probably face some bullying. Real friends would help!

 Walking through the mall, they passed a green-haired woman who looked exhausted, tear tracks on her face and holding a yellow bag in her hands. Bakugou slowed down, eyes wide.

 “Auntie…” he said before he approached the woman. Eijiro and Kaminari waited for him. Eijiro figured she was a relative of some sorts and had gone through something. Why else- 

  The thunderous slap echoed and everyone now watched at the green-haired woman glared fiercely at the shocked Bakugou.

 “How DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME BAKUGOU KATSUKI!” she screamed. “MY SON IS IN A COMA AND WE MAY HAVE TO PULL THE PLUG BECAUSE OF YOU!” she glared angrily at Bakugou who curled into himself.

 “Auntie I-”

 “You lost that right to call me that the first time you beat up my son using your Quirk!” the woman yelled. “You have some damn nerve approaching me right now. Oh wait I know why, it's cause of those boys.” she pointed at Eijiro and Kaminari who froze in confusion. “Classmates? You want to be seen mourning the boy you bullied for his entire life, the boy you told to jump off a roof and DID!”

 “What the fuck?” Kamianri asked quietly.

 “Au- Mrs. Midoriya it's not-” Bakugou said and Eijiro knew the blonde was a good person. He'd obviously changed he had to.

 “Don’t talk,” Mrs. Midoriya said coldly. “You got away with it because my son is Quirkless. Or was anyway. The police told me I should be happy you bullied him so badly he wanted to die because he unlocked his Quirk. Yet he's still in a coma because of it. He's still almost DEAD because of you.” she glared at Bakugou and Eijiro moved.

 “Ma’am, please-” he began but Mrs. Midoriya glared at him.

 “He didn't tell anyone you know. This boy right here never told a soul what he did. A classmate confessed to me and I tried frequently to get the police to listen but they never did. This boy right here instead decided to use it didn't you Bakugou Katsuki.” Mrs. Midoriya glared. “Using that nickname you gave my son when you were three years old and happy you could bully a smaller child, the useless Deku.” she snarled. “Can't even blame his Quirklessness on it. Not that if you could it would be better. Bullying the poor boy without a Quirk?” she mocked. 

 “Holy fuck,” Kaminari said. Eijiro turned, expecting… he didn't know. A shocked look? Confusion? Anything but the realization on Kaminari’s face. “I knew you were a piece of shit but damn! What the fuck Bakugou?!”

 “Excuse me dunce face?!” Bakugou turned and glared.

 “See?! The insults, the attitude! Me and Sero pegged you as a douchebag but thought you were in UA for the rehabilitation stuff they do.” Kaminarsaid and Ejiro didn't know what he meant. Nothing made sense, what did… What did that mean?

 “What?!” Bakugou shouted. 

 “He isn’t because of a Mineta on the school board telling me my son isn't worth the mark on his record.” snarled Mrs. Midoriya. “I got lucky that Midnight answered and listened when I requested that Deku be banned from your usage. Is that why you came up to me?”

 “I… Mom said you weren't talking to her and that you'd be here so…” Bakugou said. “I used it to remember Auntie! Please its-”

 “Don’t.” Mrs. Midoriya cut him off harshly. “I don’t talk to your mother because she keeps defending you and going ‘boys will be boys’ when YOU crossed the line years ago. What is it when you use your Quirk to hurt someone? Right! Aggravated assault!” Mrs. Midoriya glared at him. “And you didn't try to use it as a reminder. You did it for that backstory you keep claiming. ‘Boohoo I went to a poor school and got into UA. Ignore the fact my parents are rich enough to have me go to a better school, pay for tutors and my Quirk Counseling.’” 

 “Aun-”

 “Stop.” Mrs. Midoriya sighed. “Just stop Bakugou. Stop lying, stop pretending. If you'd cared you'd have said something. I bet you felt relief when my son was said to have a Quirk. Relief he lived because then ‘hey I'm not at fault. He didn't die.’” Bakugou’s face and flinch made Eijiro feel sick. She had hit the mark, hadn't she? The woman turned and walked away, heading to a hero merch store, passing by people who looked horrified. 

 “Auntie!” Bakugou shouted. Mrs. Midoriya paused to look over her shoulder and glare.

 “Stop calling me that. You should know your former classmate has finally gathered together every scrap of evidence he can, every social media post made and every video taken. It goes live in three days. I wonder if UA’s board is so willing to protect you then.” she walked away after that, and Bakugou paled. 

 “Bro, are you okay?” Eijiro asked him. 

 “You're asking him if he's okay?” asked Kaminari in disgust. 

 “Look, she's angry and maybe she-”

 “They can't release it, I’ll lose my spot!” Bakugou says in horror. Eijiro’s stomach dropped.

 “That's what you care about?!” Kamianri asked. “Not the kid you drove to suicide?!”

 “It was when I was fourteen!” Bakugou said.

 “Didn't you just turn 16 two months ago?” Kamianri asked. “What would happen if I looked it up? How long ago was it?” 

 “Over a year-”

  “Oh so what, probably barely a year ago.” Kaminari shook his head. “I’m out. Kirishima, if you're half the guy I thought you were you'd leave to.” he walked away, as Eijiro stood there, staring at the guy he thought he knew.

 What had just happened?

-0-

 The next week was spent with the media blasting about how awful it was UA had let in a person like Bakugou, and Eijiro watched the video put up. It was bad.

 Really, really bad.

 Eijiro had to stay away from the internet for a little while, disgusted with what he saw. He thought he KNEW Bakugou. Thought the guy was just rough around the edges. Maybe a victim of bullying given his Quirk was destructive. But no. He’d been wrong. Bakugou wasn’t a victim, he was an aggressor. He was an abuser. 

 And through all of it, even with Bakugou on the news, the guy kept trying to justify it. Kept saying things like he was a kid, he didn’t know any better, it was anyone’s fault but his own. He waved around the stupid hero name he gave himself, the hours spent at a Quirkless shelter, anything.

 All of it felt so… fake now. Performative, to show he was sorry.

 Eijiro didn’t know what to think.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Notes: pet peeve of mine in every ‘Midoriya jumps’ fic is the Bakugou Whump and uwu poof blasty so sad. More so when he doesn't admit what he did, still goes to UA and then… what? What does he do? Nothing.

 Bakugou is very guilty and doesn't do everything performative but the name? That was performative as is volunteering. 

-Bakugou is expelled for this because even if it happened before UA its now a stain on their entire reputation. 

-Izuku does wake up and his Quirk is very strong, and the reason he took so long to wake up.

-Kirishima makes a point to meet him and talk. They become friends and Izuku eventually gets into UA. His linger complications from the jump prevent him from being a hero but he is a support student.

[cbsghostsmetasandtrevor]

Okay but the AU of where everything is the same for 3x07 except Trevor volunteers as stripper for Nigel's bachelor party is sending me. And will probably live in my head rent-free, time will tell.

Yessss. Like Trevor being a stripper is just like... fitting.

He may not volunteer for Nigel, but he will do it if put on the spot and then volunteer for Isaac :)

And okay, so I may or may not have started it last night before I went to bed.

Wanna see?

“Wait,” Pete says, as Jenkins begins his dance at Trevor’s suggestion for a stripper for Nigel. “Given your past relationship, I don’t think Isaac would appreciate Jenkins being your stripper.”

“He’s right,” Sass says.

Even as Jenkins pouts, “But I’m the only volunteer.”

“Technically, Nigel didn’t ask for volunteers and choose you from his options,” Pete states.

“That may be true…” Nigel says, slowly, eyeing the ghosts that are more Isaac’s friends than his, “however, no one else has offered.”

There’s quiet for a second before Thor speaks, “Trevor do it.”

Trevor’s a bit taken aback, looking at the big guy in utter surprise. Sure, he was a stripper in college, hence why he always returned the favor when he finally had money to spare, and it’s not like everyone here hadn’t already seen his junk anyway, but it’s Nigel. He wasn’t exactly a big fan of Trevor.

“Yeah, Trevor should do it,” Pete adds.

Trevor nearly cranks his neck looking at him, still utterly speechless.

“Pete’s right,” Sass states. He’s looking at Nigel and Jenkins but speaks to Trevor. “You’re the one that came up with the stripper idea, so you should be the one to strip.”

“Well, I mean –”

“And it would probably make Isaac more comfortable than if Jenkins does it,” Pete adds.

“True, but –”

“Everyone see Trevor junk daily, no different now,” Thor finishes.

“Will none of you ever let go of the pants thing?” Trevor gets out. He hates that they constantly harp on it.

Sass sees an opportunity and takes it. “How about this? Everyone in this room promises to never bring up the pants thing ever again for all eternity or suffer six months in the woods and getting chopped in half by Thor’s axe every time they do it from here until we or you get sucked off.”

It’s tempting, too tempting. There’s at least half of the ghosts here, and that leaves a lot less ghosts that can or will mention the pants thing.

He looks at Nigel. “You cool with that?”

“By all means, I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

Jenkins looks like he wants to complain, but instead, sits back in his seat, clearly disgruntled.

***

This is just the start! :)

[someartistsammy]

I’ve seen quite a few takes saying that Team Glenn aren’t really friends or don’t care about each other and I wanted to take some time to write about why I feel like that’s blatantly false. Using info from what we have in-game, from the character intros, and with a piece from an interview with those working on the game.

To start off, when we were initially given the character intros before the full release, we were told some basic information on the characters. Matt was asked by Glenn to join him on the mission, and Lucia outright volunteered to go with. Both had the option to turn it down or to not volunteer but they decided to go with, neither were obligated.

Upon the opening section of the game, if you choose the option of “Guess I should wake her.” to rouse Lucia, she will tell Glenn “…How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up like that?” This gives us the idea that either they’ve worked multiple previous overnight or crash-landing missions together, with Glenn startling her awake with the idea of being attacked, or that they’re used to existing in a shared space where she can be woken up by him.

When they’re going around looking for Matt, Glenn mentions owing him money. This is said to be for lunch and drinks. This is something done off-clock, and not something Matt is obligated to do in the least. They spend time around each other outside of work.

When looking at the opening movie for the original version of The First Soldier, the battle royale version, we get to see that Glenn, Matt, and Lucia, all meet each other back in 1988. The mission to the Rhadore Archipelago takes place in 1992, so the three of them have known each other for roughly 4 years. Lucia actually rescues them on that mission, and outright says “If I hadn’t gotten you two out of trouble, we would’ve never become friends.” Which tells us that they do continue to view each other as friends. Not only this, but later after the mission they met on, they take their SOLDIER exam together as a team. This meaning that they continued to stay in contact after that event and work together, and even practiced specifically as a team.

They all have to have at least some degree of being close to each other, if not at least Matt and Lucia, who are able to actually communicate with each other with nothing more than nods directed at each other. They do this roughly 4 times in the story up to the end of the current release of Chapter 5.

Later, in Padapili Sea Cave, if you choose to have Glenn eat the fruit all by himself, he uses it as a slight way to mess with Lucia. She voices concern over the possibility of it being poisonous, and is concerned when he takes a bite of it without hesitation. Upon collapsing to the ground, she gets extremely frustrated and concerned telling him to spit it out. Glenn pointed it out as a moment to say nothing is more scary than ignorance, but she was truly upset by thinking he could’ve or was actively being harmed. This is a slightly mean way of messing with her, but it gives a moment to show that she does care about him.

Glenn does overuse the nickname “Professor” for Matt and it does upset Matt, but it never feels intentionally malicious or like its making fun of Matt. It’s a part of showing that they aren’t perfect and all have their flaws, Glenn’s happens to be boundaries and being a bit of a troublemaker. Although we haven’t seen as much of it from Matt, the initial idea of the First Soldier story had Matt as the protagonist. He was intended to be diligent (perhaps even too much so) and appears to overanalyze things. This includes being prepared to view Rosen as a possible enemy as though to not compromise their mission. Lucia was designed to be the mediator or “harmonizing presence” however choosing to leave Lucia behind at the 3rd pressure plate in Chapter 3’s Main Section 4, Episode 1, will grant you dialogue between Matt and Glenn wondering if Lucia is okay and worrying that she has a lot pent up and might explode. She also has small outbursts of anger such as if Glenn chooses to eat the fruit solo. Once again, they’re all flawed in their own ways.

In the same location as the previous mentioned chapter, section, and episode, the very first pressure plate you come upon gives you the option to leave behind Glenn, Matt, or Lucia. Upon leaving behind Lucia, once you reach the other side and open the wall, she will run through. Glenn asks her what’s up, and she avoids eye contact. Upon asking “Huh? What is it?” from Glenn, Lucia will say she’s angry with herself, and look at the ground. She admits that she’s relieved to see the two of them, anger that could be founded in the possibility that they (likely) weren’t gone that long at all.

When Lucia brings up the rumor of how this mission prioritized interpersonal relationships over skill when creating teams, Glenn states he was able to “get you two without a fight.” In reference to Matt and Lucia. This could also be interpreted as they’ve attempted to get on missions with each other in the past, but that it can be a hassle to do. Matt comments that “camaraderie is a powerful thing” which by definition is “mutual trust and a friendship among people who spend a lot of time together.”

Upon the topic of Lucia saying she doesn’t want the higher-ups to think she’s a willing member of Team Glenn. This feels like it just sets in with her usual slightly biting sense of jokes that can be interpreted as being slightly rude. It’s important to remember her intro states she wasn’t asked to come along, but rather, volunteered to go with. Even if for another reason she doesn’t want to be a “willing member of Team Glenn” she’s there because she wanted to be and because she cares about Glenn and Matt.

I would also like to add that I feel one of Final Fantasy VII’s key themes could be found family, across majority of the compilation. Team Glenn might not entirely treat each other as “respectful adult friends” but rather closer to family, like siblings or cousins. They get on each other’s nerves and annoy each other, but they do also genuinely care about each other.

Following in on the topic of found family, the way they treat Sephiroth. Glenn is initially hostile towards Sephiroth, likely caused by his being put in charge as team leader, and possibly taking away Glenn’s chance at getting his bonus. The one reason he refused to call in for help. Glenn does deal with financial stress, even if caused by gambling (possibly passed down to him by his grandma. But I’ll save that for a different post.) However, once he hears what Sephiroth has to say about being a hero being a lie, he’s instantly willing to help him out. When asking what Sephiroth wants to be when he grows up, he says “Come on, tell Uncle Glenn.” (Closer to big brother in accurate translation) He misses what Sephiroth says about a normal life, but still continues to try and help him out. He also apologizes to Sephiroth multiple times throughout Chapter 5. He does feel bad for the things he said in the heat of the moment, and does clearly begin to care about him rather quickly.

Glenn, Matt, and Lucia, once Glenn’s frustration passes, instantly accept him into their group, and watch over him. Glenn already using a familial term when referring to their connection. Lucia also goes to show she cares about him when ruffling/petting his hair later on. Towards the end of Chapter 5, although Matt doesn’t have any close physical interactions with Sephiroth, he does show immediate concern upon finding out Sephiroth was injured. Showing that he does still care and worry about him, even if he hasn’t had what was considered a more touching moment. Glenn also once again apologizes to Sephiroth and hugs him.

Although it gets off to a rocky start with Sephiroth, I would argue that Glenn, Matt, and Lucia, all treat each other like pretty good friends, if not closer to the jabs family would have. Not unexpected in friendships that have been developing for possibly around 4 years either. They also eventually accept Sephiroth into their group.

Things might change later down the line, and the relationships the characters have with each other could be expanded upon and I could wind up being proven completely wrong, as we do only have through to Chapter 5 currently, but as it stands at the time of me writing this, I would say they are at least friends.