#use even a modicum of intelligence please

[golbrocklovely]

i cannot stand incompetent ppl/doing extra work bc someone didn't think ahead

(rant about work below lol)

so last week, on wednesday, i had to change the apparel section around bc we are having a refresh, so to speak. basically we are putting out all new fall-esque items, even tho it's literally 90 degrees out everyday. so i spent basically my ENTIRE shift working on my section by myself. even stayed an extra hour to really finish up. i only spent one hour not doing that, and that was bc we got a truck in and i had to break that down with my coworkers. but the rest of the time, i was spent moving things around, hanging up so many clothes, the whole nine.

no one helped me. even tho i had a manager that was basically just walking around and doing other smaller sections. in a way i was glad to be left alone bc it makes it easier for me to lay everything out and really make sure it looks good. plus, i had this planogram to follow, so really i just needed help hanging things up. but i did fine on my own.

i come in today, the ENTIRE section has been moved around and changed. only two walls didn't get changed, but even then yes they did because shelves were removed, for some reason.

so immediately i think "oh god my manager S did this" bc she has a tendency to try and space things out and change shit around even if the both of us work on things, get it set, and make it look good. or if i've worked on it myself in the past, she will come over on a day i'm not in and change it around. and look, she's the merch manager. i get it's her job to change it. but genuinely imo it never looks better when she does that. not only that, but we are literally following pictures. if it's not set right, it's corporate's fault.

but all i could think in my head is "why the fuck did she change everything??" everything was set! i followed the photos to a T. hell, we actually got all the product in, which is a first bc the amount of times we will have a set change only to not get half the product is almost always. so i was confused. in the layout corporate gives us, they don't account for two walls in that section, so those always end up being random shit. we're allowed to move things around, be flexible. but i mean every. single. wall. was changed.

i'm now pissed bc why the fuck did i do all of that if it wasn't necessary?? all that work i spent was not important then.

S ends up coming up to me and saying "hey did you ever get the pics for the set change?" and i just look at her very confused. bc…… yeah? now granted, she wasn't the one that gave me the set to do, it was instead J, my gm. so okay, i can believe she doesn't know i already did it minus the fact that the entire section is different.

i tell her i did it on wednesday. S goes to give me planogram for the set, but tells me that they haven't dropped yet in the system (J also had told me this but ended up giving me pics of the set design anyway.) basically the set isn't technically due for another week or two, but since we got everything in, it made sense to put it out now.

S tells me we'll worry about the set later bc, and i quote, "J did it last week, so it should be fine".

…………….huh?

what do you mean J did it last week? I DID IT LAST WEEK, AND J IS THE ONE THAT FUCKED THE WHOLE THING UP.

look, i've known for a while now that i need to leave my job. i need a better paying one, even if it's retail, bc this place has used up every last bit of nerve i have left in me. but this might be the final thing that does me in, genuinely. bc one, taking credit for something I did pisses me off to no end. and two, J did not do the set, bc she moved everything around in the worst way. so i'm telling yall now, and my managers tomorrow, that if i get told "hey so J did the set wrong and we need you to put it back correctly" i'm telling them no. i did it correctly the first time, this is now J's, or S's, or any other managers', problem to deal with. i'll hang up clothes if you want, bc i can do that off the floor and in the back away from customers. but PHYSICALLY moving anything around for a set planogram that i already did a whole week ago… not gonna happen.

to top all of this off today, i had to break down the truck. we get five pallets in, over 200 boxes of shit to sort thru and separate. i have two other coworkers that help with the truck. they are nice, but you have to basically tell them four times where things are supposed to go on the uboats and it just gets exhausting, especially when i'm already fucking annoyed. two of the uboats were already filled with product, and all we had were three empty ones. ended up having to leave things on the pallets and just fill the uboats with certain things and not others.

the one almost filled uboat they ended up putting product on even tho i told them not to... whatever. not my problem. it was all for the same section anyway.

S, my manager, has basically stopped helping us with the truck. she goes and finds other shit to do now, and particularly today she chose to start taking stuff from the back for one of our sections and forcing more product out bc we are having inventory soon. of all the days to do this "purging", idk why she chose now to do it instead of any day of the week we don't get a truck. not only that, but the merch manager not helping out BREAKING DOWN THE MERCH makes no fucking sense to me, but i digress.

we get one set pallet this time around that is filled with style and toys. the rest of the pallets are filled with other shit. one uboat is set aside for toys. a girl that usually works on candy comes into the backroom and says "hey, S wants me to work on toys". i tell her "okay, well we haven't gotten to toys yet so you'll have to wait." she nods and walks away and goes into this back common room area. not even a full two minutes goes by and she comes back out and starts talking to my coworkers, and she then repeats "S really wants me to work on toys now".

……did we not just have this conversation like a whole fucking minute ago??? did you think i was able to break down a pallet that fucking fast???

at this point, i was snippy and every single person on this planet was getting on my last nerve and i just said "well she's gonna have to wait for you to do it, idk what to tell you", she being S. my coworkers laughed, but since i had music playing, i couldn't tell if they were laughing bc of how i said it or if it was bc i was complaining about S.

then this coworker asks if i need any help, i say no. she rolls her eyes at me and laughs, and then she moves on to asking my other coworkers. and they all work on A SINGLE PALLET together. three of them worked on one pallet. while i had already gone thru two and ENDED UP DOING MORE than them. three of them did two pallets, altogether. i did three pallets by myself. when, crazy concept, it would have been better if they all did a pallet a piece.

i really got to start remembering i only get paid a very small amount, and to stop working above that small amount. bc at this point i'm just being abused at my job lol

[abbacchiosbelt]

spoiled

Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader

Notes: Inspired by @cinnamonest's Kamisato Ayato/Teacher modern AU. Please read her lovely piece beforehand for further context!

This is a commissioned SEQUEL to will you, won't you.

CW: Age gap [ Ayato is 18, reader is 20+ ], not sfw, student/teacher with the student initiating, dubious consent, implied blackmail, PIV, manipulation, crying, overstimulation.

WC: 6.3k

Tag List: @magicalbats

It’s not without effort that you finally give up and lie down, your nerves shot and your body sore. You were worn from the night itself and the last few hours you’d spent trying to escape the room Ayato had locked you in, desperate to do something.

[ You’d stood before the door that Ayato had locked for several long minutes, vainly hoping that this whole night had just been some sort of twisted joke. He never came back, though. Not even when you banged your fists against the door and cried out for help, nor when you made a racket trying to break the door down. Tears had rolled down your face as you collapsed against the floor, unable to believe that this was really happening. Your life as you knew it was over. Even if you could escape, Ayato had made sure that you wouldn’t truly be free - not when he had the threat of a video that would ruin your career and reputation in his hands. ]

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the images of Ayato running through your mind, your mind refusing to focus on anything else. At this point, you had nothing left to give. All your tears had been shed, and your throat ached from how long you’d cried for help. Instead of fighting it any longer, you simply get up from bed and enter the en suite bathroom, numbly prepared to do your bedtime routine. Finding something normal about the situation was the only thing that brought you a small modicum of comfort, and going through your nightly routine was better than just lying down in turmoil.

Ayato had left everything you could possibly need. You noted, with shaking hands, that he’d even supplied you with the products you kept in your home - all brand new, of course. Some of your things had been replaced with luxury products, complete with a note from Ayato that read: ‘These are better for your health. Try them out, I know you’ll like them. - Ayato’

You crumple up the note in annoyance, picking up the luxury products and dumping them into the trash. Wasting such expensive items hurt, but since they were from Ayato, you refused to use them. To do so would be letting go of your remaining dignity - you’d just have to go without them.

You numbly wash your face and brush your teeth, though going through the motions of your normal routine doesn’t settle your mind as much as you’d hoped it would. You exit the bathroom and lay back down on the bed, resigning yourself to sleep. Perhaps you’d be able to think straighter with a night of rest in your system. You’d take anything that could help you get out of Ayato’s grasp.

Your sheer exhaustion beats out the racing of your mind, and eventually, you fall asleep.

/

Across the manor, Ayato is wide awake, unable to stop thinking about you. If only you’d settle in quicker - he longs for being able to treat you like his wife, and you to treat him as a husband. Other people would think he was moving too fast, but you’d already belonged to him in his mind for months. He wants to go to sleep with you curled around him. And more than anything, he wants your face to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning. Soon enough, that would be a reality. First, though, he’d have to make sure you understood your new position as his girlfriend, and as his eventual wife. It was something Ayato was looking forward to. You were already perfect in so many ways, but he would make sure he molded you into his definition of perfection. The challenge of taming someone as intelligent as you only added to Ayato’s excitement. 

All of Ayato’s careful planning would come to fruition, and there was nothing you could do to change things. That thought - that you were finally under Ayato’s thumb where you belonged, safe from the outside world - eventually lulls him to sleep. 

/

You awake with a start, the unfamiliar bed and room alarming to your senses. It takes you a moment to remember where you are, your heart leaping into your throat at the realization. 

It wasn’t all some bad dream you’d had after drinking too much at the graduation party. What had happened between you and Ayato was real, and so was the fact that you were still in his home. It was inappropriate - even unimaginable for a teacher like yourself to spend the night at a student’s place. You feel sick at the thought, and you clench your fists into the silk sheets.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Ayato wasn’t going to let you return to teaching. Even if you had found a way out of the house, Ayato had made sure that every route you might attempt to take was blocked. You curse internally - at yourself, for being so stupid, and Ayato for doing this to you.

Why…? You couldn’t be that special, yet Ayato looked at you like you hung the moon and stars themselves. His reverence wasn’t free from condensation, though, something you noted with particular annoyance. He treated you as if you were fragile - like you didn’t know the world's ways. It was infuriating. Ayato was only eighteen himself, but he acted as if he had an ancient soul.

Your thoughts trail off until a beam of sunlight peeks through the curtains. You didn’t want to dwell on your current situation any longer than you already had. You decide to leave bed and poke around the room with a fresh mind, your thoughts no longer clouded by a haze of alcohol and confusion.

Nothing much catches your eye except for the bookshelf, and you peruse the selection that was no doubt curated by Ayato. A few classics, a couple of trashy romance novels, a few books you’d assigned in class (filled with neatly placed post-its - some with your handwriting), and a few dated books on lady’s etiquette. You scoff, but you aren’t surprised. Putting those books there had no doubt made him chuckle, but they were also a genuine suggestion. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of finding one in your hands.

Instead, you pick out one of the classics and retreat to your bed to read. You weren’t sure when Ayato would come knocking, so you’d enjoy all the solitude you could get before then. 

/

From the moment he wakes up, Ayato is thinking about you. The night before had been more than he ever could have asked for. You’d walked so easily into the trap he’d set for you - a gilded cage that he’d planned every minute detail of. 

What’s more pressing at the moment, though, is his cock already stiff beneath the soft fabric of his pajamas. Where he had to resort to his fantasies of you in the past, he could now find reprieve just down the hall from you. 

Ayato doesn’t hurry to you, though. He wouldn’t have been able to pull off any of this plan if he didn’t have the impeccable self-control that he did. Instead, he begins his normal morning routine, willing his morning wood to go down until he can properly see you.

He’s purposeful with his routine, not rushing any step. It didn’t hurt to make you wait - the anticipation of when he would arrive would be good for you, he thought. 

When the time finally comes for him to see you again, he spares no time heading to your room. He’d been patient long enough.

Ayato knocks once before he enters your room, darting in so fast that you wouldn’t have a chance to even think about trying to push past him. He’s mildly surprised to see you’re simply sitting on the bed and reading - he’d expected a little more fight from you, but perhaps… Perhaps you’d come around to his ideas during the time he’d left you alone. 

“Good morning,” he calls, approaching the bed. He could faintly smell your usual body wash lingering in the air - one of the few things he hadn’t swapped out for a luxury product, finding himself quite fond of the scent. He’d have to ask you if you liked the new products later. He watches you for a moment, but you don’t put your book down. Oh, it looks like you hadn’t lost your stubborn streak after all. Ayato sits on the bed and watches as you grimace, your eyes peeking over the top of the book to shoot him a small glare.

Cute, but not becoming of someone who would be his future wife. 

Ayato tsks, leaning forward and plucking the book from your hands, ignoring your protests. In a brief moment of kindness, he folds the ear of the page you were on so you can find your place later. You cringe at the gesture, though, years of telling students not to destroy your books flooding your mind. If he notices, he ignores it. 

“How was your night?” Ayato smiles and glosses over the situation like it was any other day. If he acted like things were normal, he thought, you’d eventually be forced to also.

Silence fills the air. You purse your lips, petulant, and keep your gaze trained on the window. (Locked, of course.) Ayato sighs and scoots closer to you on the bed so that he’s pressed against you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders before you can squirm away, his heart suddenly beating fast. Even a simple touch sent his heart racing when it came to you - he did well to keep his composure, lest you exploit it. Ayato needed to be in control, after all. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

“How do you think it was?” Your reply is curt. The sooner you replied, the sooner he’d leave. You should have known that giving Ayato an in by acknowledging him was a mistake.

“I see you enjoyed your new beauty products, and that you enjoyed your choice of literature.” Ayato pats the book that he’d taken from you. Of course you liked it… You were perfect for him.

“I threw all that new stuff away.” At the very least, you could take pleasure in denying his gifts.

“That’s a shame,” Ayato replies, betraying no emotion. “When you’re better behaved, I can take you with me to pick some new things out.” He gets a thrill out of the annoyed expression on your face. Clearly, you’d expected him to be upset, but the products were mere pocket change to him. Eventually, you’d accept his gifts and come to understand how much he understood you. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the book, at least.”

The book… Of course. You had been enjoying it, until Ayato’s remark. The way he knew every facet of your personality made your skin crawl. “It’s fine.”

Ayato laughs at your cold response. If you wanted to get under his skin, you’d have to try much harder - he’d memorized your reactions and tells ages ago. It was easy for him to read you. As much as he was enjoying the one-sided banter, there were other pressing matters at hand.

Namely, how hard his cock was just from sitting next to you for a few minutes. It’d be shameful if he didn’t consider it a testament to how much he loved you. Your familiar scent and the warm skin that was pressed against his had sent his body into overdrive, almost as if it was making up for lost time. So much of his time had been taken up by school and responsibilities, but finally getting to touch you last night had awoken something new in him. Of course, he’d been taking care of himself to the thought of you for months, but getting to experience your body was a completely different game. It was addicting.

If he was a lesser man with no self-control, he would have fucked you well into the night. He hadn’t planned on pushing you to fuck him again just yet, but perhaps he could indulge in some other things. There was so much he wanted to try, after all. 

Ayato slides the hand that was wrapped around your shoulder to gently press against your neck, letting his long fingers ghost against your pulse point. He hears you inhale suddenly, and the noise goes straight to his cock. (He wanted to devour you. He wanted to lock you up and fuck you senseless. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted… But it’s not what you needed, nor what you deserved. Ayato loved you. Such primal needs could be sated later when you eagerly responded to him - he had imagined so many times that you’d come to crave him as he craved you.)

“Ayato,” you warn, your voice low. “What are you doing?” You push Ayato’s hand away, and he lets you. You’d learn in time not to reject him, but Ayato had to walk a delicate line until then. He sighs, nonchalant, and lets his hand skirt down your arm instead. You grumble but don’t bother pushing him away. 

“Do you really have to ask?” Ayato’s hand continues its path down your arm until he reaches the place where your hands are firmly pressed against your thighs. He sighs out your name. “You don’t have to be so worried about things like this. You are my girlfriend, after all.”

“Girlfriend?” You blurt, whipping your head to the side to stare at him. Ayato’s lips lift into that infuriating, smug smile that all his fellow students had giggled and blushed over. All it did to you was make your stomach curl. “That’s—” You’re startled into silence when Ayato slips his hand under the hem of your shirt, his fingers splaying across the bare skin.

The tips of his fingers are cold, and the sensation sends a chill up your spine. Your mouth hangs open dumbly as he explores the soft skin of your stomach. A strangled yelp leaves your throat when he runs his fingers over a ticklish spot. 

“D-don’t,” you huff, the drift of his fingers over the ticklish spot again making you stumble on your words. “I don’t think we should do this.” He laughs, amused by your reaction. Anything he could get from you right now was fine - all he wanted was your complete attention, positive or negative.

“If you don’t like me touching you here, why do you react like this?” Ayato had mistaken the noise he’d drawn from you for arousal, his voice dripping with condescension as if the problem here is that you just don’t understand your own body and not that you’re being held against your will.

Before you can stop him, Ayato’s hand drags upward to your chest and he cups your breast in his hand. He plays with the weight of your breast, jiggling it. It reminds you of fooling around when you were younger, the unintentional awkwardness and non-pleasure of it making you grimace. Ayato doesn’t seem to notice, though. He sighs as he fondles you, entranced by the soft flesh of your tit that he’d been kneading. 

You could almost drift away for a moment, pretend you were still asleep—

And then Ayato tweaks your nipple, hard, and your mouth falls open, a pained whimper rising to the surface. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, his gaze remaining on your shocked expression as he licked deeper into your mouth. It was all-consuming and violating – not like a kiss at all.

Whatever trance you had fallen under was quickly broken. Ayato is sloppy as he kisses you, his hand sliding down your stomach to fumble with the hem of your pants. It’d be endearing if it was anyone else - and yet some part of you doesn’t have the will to try and stop him. He’d already proven he’d do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

You don’t jerk away when his hand finally slips into your underwear, long middle finger immediately searching out your clit. It’s clear he’s struggling with kissing you and trying to finger you at the same time. You break apart from the kiss and he whines, chasing after your lips.

“Ayato…” You struggle to find your words, not daring to lift your gaze to his. You should stop him, you really should. You don’t, though. You were still so tired from last night. If you only gave in this one time, you’d have more time to think. You breathe out hard through your nose and finally speak. “One thing at a time.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding sheepish. “I’ll do better.” It’s an admission you hadn’t expected from him, but it was apparent that he was vulnerable in this state when it came down to things. If you were a worse person - if you were like him - you would have taken advantage of it. Turned the situation around on itself. But you weren’t like him, so instead, you remain silent when he dips his middle finger through your folds, letting the wetness that had accumulated gather on his digit. 

Ayato hums when he feels proof of your arousal on his finger. He knew that all you ever needed was a reminder of how good things would be for you if you let him do as he saw fit. He would be a proper husband for you in all ways, and his duty of pleasuring you was one he wanted to emphasize despite his inexperience.

Ayato is aware that he shouldn’t rush things, but his eagerness to consume you whole pushes him to dip his finger inside of your cunt. His finger slips in easily, aided by the lubrication your body had produced despite your will. 

“See?” Ayato arches the finger inside of you, stroking against your warm walls. “Your body doesn’t lie.” You shudder, half-pleasure half-discomfort as he adds another finger. He arches his fingers up again, searching. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure of helping guide him toward the spot inside of you that always sent your body reeling. You ignore his words, the arrogance coupled with his inexperience guiding your lips into a petulant pout. You just had to endure this a little bit longer. 

It only takes a second for Ayato to notice your new expression.

Ayato didn’t want to spoil you, as much as he loved that fiery side of you. Sometimes you needed your flames dampened, and who better than him who did it out of love? He pulls his fingers from inside you and instead starts to focus on your clit, pulling a surprised moan from your throat. His technique is sloppy, but it’s not so bad that you couldn’t come from it.

His silence as he touches you makes you wary - so far, he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut. It’s barely a thought, though, not when your arousal is about to reach a fever pitch.

And then, without warning, Ayato pulls his fingers away from your clit— You whimper in frustration as your arousal fades back to a low burn. You twist your head up to look at him for an explanation and only find a serene look on his face. It immediately sends hackles up your spine, and you reflexively pull away from him. Ayato lets you this time. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Ayato says, accusatory. Your eyebrows knit in annoyance. He tilts his head, looking at you like he expected something. “Your attitude,” he starts. “You can’t enjoy what I’m giving you and act like a brat.”

“A brat?” You sputter, insulted more by his choice of words than the sentiment itself. You had adjusted rapidly to Ayato’s malaligned attitude about his feelings for you, but this talk like you were just misbehaving was too much. You were a grown adult, for gods’ sake. “I didn’t ask you for any of this.” 

“Didn’t you, though?” Ayato leans in, taking up your space. “All those times when you let me talk to you at lunch. You were so kind. And all those times you spoke to me after the school day even though I wasn’t in your class.” Before you can give him a rebuttal, he continues, almost manic. “I knew you were perfect the second I met you. Last night was just a precautionary measure. We were always going to be together.”

You’re unable to reply at his unashamed admission. While you reel from his words, Ayato stands from the bed. He brings the fingers that were inside of you to his mouth and sighs before he presses them to his mouth, sucking your juices from them. You watch in muted disgust.

“I’m going to let you rest for a bit. I’ll bring you brunch shortly. I think you need some more time to think about what I’m doing for you.” Ayato smiles as he produces the key to your room from his pajama shirt’s pocket. “You’re smart enough to know this, but you’ll be staying in this room until your behavior improves.”

When you don’t respond, Ayato shrugs. “It’s your choice. I’ll see you soon.”

/

Ayato, true to his word, returns with brunch around an hour later. He leaves you to your devices after, dutifully returning every meal time to bring you food but not lingering. It remains like this for two days, with you stubbornly refusing to acknowledge him and Ayato seemingly unbothered. 

You’d used your time to think of something, anything, to put a hold on Ayato’s plans. On the third day, you finally speak to him again.

“Ayato? Can we talk?”

He turns immediately, his facade of nonchalance betrayed by how eager he looked. “Of course.” He hurries to sit across from you on a matching lounge chair to the chaise you’d been sitting on. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

You ignore him, and press on. “I have a proposal. I know you want to take care of me, but I think I should keep teaching, so I came up with a compromise.” You expect him to protest, but he just stares at you with a placid smile on your face. Unnerved, you press on. “What if I taught private lessons online?” You didn’t like saying the next part, but you had to try to placate him. “I would stay at home, of course. And you could vet any potential students. I’ve been working for years, Ayato. It’d feel wrong to just quit.”

“I see.” Ayato says, terse. You can already tell he doesn’t like the idea.

A pregnant pause hangs in the air.

“No.” Ayato stands, and you scramble up after him. You grab his arm, surprised by your own actions but unable to control your panic. “My plans- our plans, are final.”

“Please, there has to be something. We can’t do this, any of this…” You’re almost breathless as you speak.

“Let’s sit down.” Ayato leads you to the bed, but you hardly realize it. You let him maneuver you onto the bed. Your mind races for another excuse to try and bring up, but there’s nothing. Ayato strokes your hand. “Is that it?”

His tacit tone, as if you had just been throwing a tantrum, ignites whatever fuel you have left to argue with him.

“D-damn it,” You start, fumbling with your words. Ayato gives you a patronizing look that makes you want to rip his head off. You take a deep breath and try again. “You haven’t thought of all the repercussions. What will your family say? What will Ayaka say?” If anything could garner a shred of sympathy from Ayato, it had to be Ayaka. Perhaps with enough mention of his younger sibling, his plans would start to crack.

“What will Ayaka think?” Ayato echoes, raising his eyebrow. “She’ll think it’s wonderful that her older brother has found someone so responsible and mature.” He catches your eyes, and his gaze turns serious. “Ayaka is very innocent, you know. You wouldn’t want to hurt her by telling her the truth, would you? Even if you gained her sympathy… Ayaka is loyal to her family first.” Ayato’s tone is one of finality - any argument you had would be useless against him. It was like he lived inside your head, plucking out every seed of hope one by one and crushing them. 

You can’t give up, though. “Your family, then. They won’t accept this. They have to realize how wrong this is. They… they have to!” Your voice breaks. Even if they did find it wrong, Ayato wouldn’t take the blame - you would. Ayato watches as the gears in your head turn, the faux sympathetic look back on his face.

“You already know my answer to that, dear. Did you think I was unprepared for our relationship? I’ve been planning every detail of how things would go for months. You know the Kamisato family’s reputation. I’m no exception to it.” Ayato takes your hand and soothes his thumb across the top.

You’re too numb to stop him.

You knew the family’s reputation well. The Kamisato family was meticulous. They were perfectionists to a T. Their legacy was long-standing, in both the private academy and the city you lived in. And most of all, they were known to be ruthless to anyone who crossed their family. Their ruthlessness was hidden under business deals gone bad, companies suddenly failing, another family’s secrets exposed - it was covert and deadly. To be in their line of fire was to have your life effectively over. You couldn’t do it. You were one person.

In a last-ditch effort, you pitch another idea. “Then… Then…” You stumble over your words. Ayato tips his head to the side - condescending smile and lidded eyes, a look that you’d quickly become used to - urging you to go on. Your throat suddenly feels very dry, but you know that if you ask for water, Ayato will steer the subject in a completely different direction. You warily raise your gaze to meet his. “If you’re so sure your family will accept this, then… What if we wait a little longer to move things forward?”

Ayato hums, thoughtful. He’s not really considering your offer, but he might as well pretend to be so he can see where you’re at. “And how long would that be?”

“I was thinking a year or so,” you begin. “You would be established at college by then, and I—”

Ayato’s finger comes to rest on your lips, interrupting you. He shakes his head before he pulls away, chuckling to himself at the expression on your face. “I’ll save you the explanation. I’m sure it’s a nice plan, but it won’t work.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!” You protest. Ayato ignores your outburst and wraps his arms around your waist, suddenly pulling you into his lap. Try as you might, you can’t squirm free from his tight grip. Your stomach tightens, anxiety pulling at it. He’s too close, and it’s too much - you feel trapped. 

“Are you done now?” Ayato’s question sends anger running through your veins. How could someone turn from a respectful student to a condescending young man in such a short amount of time? He had never treated you with anything less than respect when you were his teacher, but now, it was like that part of your relationship had never existed. Ayato must sense your displeasure, as he loosens his grip and sighs. “You know that I appreciate your intelligence. Picking you as my wife wasn’t something I did without my due diligence.”

The thought that he’d been planning this for even longer than you’d imagined makes bile rise in your throat. You’re so distracted by the thought that you forgo trying to escape his grip and instead curl limply into him. Ayato is nearly giddy that you’re leaning into him, completely ignoring the stricken look on your face.

Another argument pops into your mind as you ruminate on the time it had taken for Ayato to plan things out. Time divided the two of you - Ayato young, and you a well-established adult. If you perhaps talked up Ayato’s youth and the rich life he had ahead of him, it might put a seed of doubt in his mind that would grow over time. You’d have to talk down about yourself like you were used goods, but if it worked, it would be worth it. It wasn’t an immediate solution, but it was something.

“I’m not done, actually.” Ayato tsks but doesn’t stop you. You swallow and peer up at him from his lap, preparing to disparage yourself simply to argue against him. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone your own age? Someone who will… Who will look good alongside you? Who can grow with you at the same pace?”

Ayato’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, genuine surprise painted on his face. He regains his composure a moment later, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really think I’m that type of man?” He turns your own words back against you - like your self-depreciation had been an affront to him. He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “Your beauty is timeless. I would never tire of you.” Ayato sounds soft, for a moment, but then he twists his lips into a cruel smile. “But if I did grow tired, I wouldn’t have trouble finding fun elsewhere. Many husbands do, you know.”

His cruelty was thrown so easily in between his kindness. You merely stare at him, mouth open. Ayato laughs and leans down to press his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture sickens you, but you know pulling away will only make him do something more invasive.

“Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m not that kind of man.”

Ayato had cornered you on the bed during the conversation, and you’re hit with the realization that you’re in no position to get out from under him. He’d broken down every wall you had.

“I’ll give you everything you could ever need or want. I’d be happy to give you another reminder.” Ayato leans down and captures your lips in a messy kiss, pressing forward until your reluctance gave way to kissing him back. He finally pulls up for air when you’re nearly out of breath, his lips slick with saliva. “Your body hasn’t lied to me yet.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you hated it. Deep down, in a place you didn’t want to admit existed, his attention felt good. It disgusted you, but your ability to deny it was betrayed by your body again and again. You could say it was a natural reaction as much as you wanted, but Ayato could see right through you.

You don’t stop him when he begins to undress you, hastily pulling your pants down and simply shoving your shirt up and your bra down until your tits were pushing over the top. He tweaks your nipples until they’re standing taut, playing with them with far more intent than he had earlier. His hands eventually slide down your stomach, and then they stop.

You glance at him. He smiles, the twinkle in his eye making you feel uneasy. “Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t have you getting spoiled? Go on, tell me what you want. I can’t just give it to you.”

You couldn’t. Doing so would be admitting that you were truly out of options. You turn your head, and Ayato tuts. His fingers ghost over your skin until he reaches your clit, so close that you can feel the heat of his skin against it. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“I can wait.” Ayato smiles, and remains still. His touch is so close yet so far, and the sensation of needing to be touched is starting to flood your veins.

How had you fallen so far in just a few days that you were seriously considering begging your captor to touch you? Had you really ever been opposed to his idea? No, of course you had - but your mind was already getting muddled, the brief isolation and emotional turmoil proving all too much.

Touching was simple. It felt good.

You give in. “Fine,” you mumble. “Touch me…”

Ayato tilts his head. You grit your teeth. “Please.”

“Good girl.” 

Ayato’s words send a shock of arousal you weren’t expecting at the same moment his fingers begin their minstrations against your clit, and you keen forward, hissing. Everything from the littlest touch had been heightened by your increased emotional state, and this area of your body fared no differently.

Ayato’s fingers work diligently until your clit is swollen and needy, yet he seemingly slowed down every time you came close to orgasm. You let out a frustrated whine at every near peak that fades back into building arousal, the previous momentum completely lost. How many times had it been now…? You weren’t sure.

“You know what to ask.” Ayato’s fingers continue rubbing circles into your puffy clit, the bud aching with need. It’s not enough to get you off, though, and he knows it. The disappointment of the denied orgasm earlier that week  pushes itself to the forefront of your mind, though, your body eager to get the pleasure it was denied. It was all too much and not enough at once. Ayato slows down his ministrations and forces your head up with his free hand. His fingers squish your cheeks together. “Well?”

You whine through your squished cheeks, and Ayato’s touch relents enough so that you can talk. “P-please,” you mumble. “I wanna come.” It felt wrong - but you didn’t think you could take the denial of pleasure again, your body nearly begging for it. If you had told him to stop, he undoubtedly would have prevented you from finishing yourself off. Ayato hums at your response, and his fingers begin to rub tight circles around your clit with purpose. You refused to vocalize it, but you could tell he was already getting better at touching you.

It only takes a few more strokes until you’re coming, your lower half jerking off the bed in time with the waves of your orgasm. Ayato doesn’t let up his fingers and soon it becomes near unbearable. You squirm, and drag your hips away. His fingers finally draw away from your puffy clit and he groans out your name, enthralled by the sight of you.

“Can’t wait to get inside of you,” he huffs, hurriedly undoing the belt on his clothes. His cock is out before you even realize it, pretty pink head leaking precome from the tip. Ayato moves over you and presses the head of his cock into your clit, watching eagerly as the little bud twitches from overstimulation.

“Nooo,” you whine, “it’s too much still—” 

Ayato’s cock jumps in place, your words going straight to his member. Seeing you so vulnerable made him feel like he could come any moment. Before he can embarrass himself again by coming too soon, he pulls back, letting himself cool off for a moment. 

“I think you can take a little more.” Ayato’s words are followed by his fingers on your clit once more, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive flesh. You wiggle at the sensation, his touch slowly becoming more pleasant as it breaks through the dull ache of being touched again so soon. 

You shouldn’t have given in to him so easily. Not again - but you can scarcely think of that when Ayato is bringing you to your peak and then back again a second time, and then a third. 

You’re teary by now, the pleasure-pain reaching a level you hadn’t experienced in a long while. You expect him to attempt a fourth orgasm, but instead feel him climb over you to line himself up with your entrance. 

“I can’t, not again-” You warble, and Ayato leans down to capture your protests with a kiss. He uses the moment to press himself inside of you, finding no resistance as he pushes himself to the hilt. It felt just as heavenly as it did the first time. 

Ayato’s pace stutters at first, struggling to coordinate the thrust of his hips and the rhythm of his fingers on your clit. He groans into your mouth while he fucks you, only pulling away to bury his head into your neck. The momentary stop and start of his fingers on your too-sensitive clit make you jerk under him, mind too far gone to do anything else.

Though you try to fight it, a fourth orgasm rips itself from your center. You clench down on Ayato and nearly shriek as it ripples through your body - Ayato follows you a few shaky pumps later, your name falling from his lips over and over as he comes inside of you.

It’s suddenly much too bright and much too hot and you thrash underneath Ayato, desperate to get out from underneath him. For once, he acquiesces to you and lets you roll to your own side of the bed. 

You stare at the ceiling, suddenly all too aware of the sweat sticking to your skin. Your personal space is invaded when he drags your head onto his chest and wraps his arms around your shoulders. 

You supposed it was his form of a compromise.  

/

A month later, you’re sat at Ayato’s office desk with a thick piece of cardstock in front of you with the Kamisato family crest embossed on the top. The new clothes you were in still feel too expensive and stiff against the leather chair you were sitting in, and the luxury perfume Ayato had insisted you wear was suffocating. The sizeable ring on your finger feels dreadfully heavy as you stare at Ayato before looking down.

All these things to distract you from the impending message.

‘The Kamisato family is proud to announce the engagement of eldest son, Kamisato Ayato &…’

You don’t have to read further to guess that your name follows his.

“What do you think, dear? Do you like this color?”

A month wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough for you to know what Ayato wanted you to say and what you needed to say for your sanity.

“I love it.”

[madamestephanie]

If Snape was using Occlumency to shield his mind from Voldemort, why didn’t Voldemort become suspicious that Snape was hiding something since he couldn’t penetrate his mind with Legilimency?

It’s because Snape did something far cleverer than merely “shielding his mind” from Lord Voldemort.

As one can make out from their interactions, Snape seemed to be the only Death Eater whom Voldemort ever had any modicum of respect for. You don’t merit Lord Voldemort’s esteem by being incompetent or stupid. Snape clearly earned his spot as Voldemort’s most revered servant by proving himself and being the asset that he was.

See, Snape never lied to Voldemort. Snape knew that Voldemort’s skill in Legillemency would immediately alert him to duplicity, so instead, Snape only told Voldemort the truth.

When Voldemort first returned, Snape justified his initial absconding from the Death Eaters by saying that he thought Voldemort had been vanquished in Godric’s Hollow. In The Prince’s Tale, we learn that this is actually true. Snape thought Voldemort had gone, and it was only Dumbledore who insisted that he would one day return. Later, he told Bellatrix that Voldemort forgave him for impeding him in his plot to purloin the Philosopher’s Stone because he did not know Voldemort was the mastermind behind the enterprise, and only thought that “unworthy” Professor Quirrell (whom Snape hated for getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher position) was trying to take the Stone for himself. Again, this turns out to be completely true.

Snape then spent 2 years “spying” on Dumbledore, and relayed what little he knew of the Headmaster’s activities to Voldemort. Dumbledore chose to keep Snape in the dark on most of his plots, which was actually (justifiably I might add) a source of great frustration for Snape. Then he killed Dumbledore just as Voldemort wanted.

Before the Battle of the Seven Potters, Snape gave Voldemort the correct date of Harry’s departure from Little Whinging. He correctly pointed out that Yaxley had been given a false trail, and truthfully divulged that the Order of the Phoenix distrusted the Ministry and the Auror office and wanted nothing to do with the institution. Re-read the scene from The Dark Lord Ascending in the books and pay close attention to the description of Voldemort’s body language. He hangs on to every word Snape says with great interest, and invites Snape to sit by his side. Meanwhile he ignores and then silences Yaxley (whom he shunts beside Dolohov), and expresses contempt for the Malfoys and Bellatrix by humiliating them. But Snape he holds in far higher regard, arguably valuing him more than anyone save for his beloved Nagini.

Voldemort was quite correct in recognizing Snape as an impressively talented and exceptionally intelligent wizard. He just never calculated that Snape’s cunning could be used against him. Even if Voldemort had decided to raid Snape’s mind, he would’ve found little of interest. Snape’s love for Lily Potter was already known to Voldemort (and he foolishly underestimated it, just as he did with Lily’s love for Harry), and the fact that he spent a great deal of time scheming with Dumbledore would not have perturbed Voldemort, but would’ve pleased him. That was literally the job that Snape was given; to earn Dumbledore’s trust and spy on him, and then relay his plans to Voldemort.

Snape’s deception of Voldemort is honestly one of the most underrated feats in the entire series, not necessarily because it was magically impressive (although it was), but because it was carried out so cleverly. As was made clear by his potion riddle all the way back in Philosopher’s Stone, Snape’s greatest talent was his cleverness, which so many wizards seem to lack. Hermione was quite right in recognizing Snape’s genius.

Snape fooled Voldemort with the truth, not with lies. That’s how he got away with it for so long.

Our Snapey has the brightest mind in the entire series, period. 🖤

[calypsopoet2003]

Donna Casts Her Spell...

I am, & have been a Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave for over 40 years... When I was 14 years old, my best friend's Mom (& my own Mom's best friend) had caught me ogling her, & without my realizing it, had used my fascination with her beautiful pantyhosed legs & feet to drop me into a deep hypnotic trance...

Her name was Donna... She was a nurse in a nursing home, & unbeknownst to me she was also a Board Certified Master Hypnotist. Donna was in the habit of hypnotizing everyone she came into contact with without them being aware of it. She did this in order to stay adept in her craft, & to maintain a modicum of control over situations or scenarios where she may benefit if she were to exhert her influence.

That fateful day, my life had completely changed. I had no idea that I had been hypnotized, nor did I remember gazing helplessly at Donna's pantyhosed legs & feet... I didn't notice that I was missing about an hour & a half from that day either. However, out of nowhere I had new "thoughts" & "ideas" regarding Donna...

These "thoughts" & "ideas" were such as I had never before even considered, but somehow they seemed like I had always had them even though they were brand new. Such as how fascinating I found Donna's pantyhosed legs & feet to be, & how I thought her face & eyes were very pretty, even beautiful.

I came to realize that I was very attracted to Donna, & had come to realize she was absolutely beautiful. She was also kind, caring, honest, highly intelligent, very wise, & trusting to a fault. I could & should tell her anything & everything, & must always believe everything she ever said to me.

Month after month, these "thoughts" & "ideas" grew & matured into what I initially thought of as simply having a crush on my best friend's Mom... I figured I would get over it, & pretend like it never happened when I did. However, I just couldn't take my eyes off of her whenever I saw her, & found myself hanging on every word she said to me... More often than not I wouldn't even remember our conversations, but found myself craving more, always wanting only to be in her presence, listening to her, & finding ways to please her.

Encounter after encounter, I just grew more & more helplessly attracted to, & fell more & more deeply in love with her. I couldn't resist the urges to be in her presence, to obey her, or to worship her, which were constant, & ever present... Flashes of my memories had seemed more like dreams, or fantasies, & were deemed as such.

Donna never ceased giving to me what she had so effectively taught me, & hypnotically trained me to crave & desire... Over & over again, whenever I gazed upon her beautiful face, or even more so her perfect Pantyhosed legs & feet, filled with love & longing, she would luxuriate as I touched, caressed, nuzzled, kissed, tasted, & took in her scent as I worshipped them.

I never had any conscious memories of any of these events. Only in my dreams & fantasies was I availed with such notions. It got to the point that I was in a constant state of deep hypnotic trance whenever I was in her presence, & when I wasn't in any sort of trance when she was nowhere around, Donna was still my Mistress... I would forever hear & obey... She was the Light, white & pure, & she was perfect in every way...

I believed that it was perfectly normal for me to be crushing so hard in Donna... I believed that everyone else, male & female alike should as well... It simply made perfect sense for everyone to love & worship her, since she was the smartest, & most beautiful woman in the world. She was kind, compassionate, & honest to a fault. She was the most important person in my life, & should be the most important person in everyone else's lives too.

It took about a year, to a year & a half of Donna's repeated hypnotic ministrations before I had fully accepted & embraced Donna as my Mistress. From then on, asleep, in trance, or awake I was entirely hers mind, body, & soul. That is when she took the next step to ensure my permanent rapturous silken servitude to her for the rest of my life.

A couple of weeks before Christmas a little more than a year into Donna's hypnotic tutelage, I had stopped over their house one Saturday afternoon to drop off a small Christmas present I had picked up for her son. She happened to be the only one home, but she had invited me in. I seemed to have caught her when she had just gotten home from work, as she was wearing her nurse's whites, her bare white pantyhosed feet sticking out of her white slacks...

When I told Donna that I had a Christmas present for her son, her reaction was as intense as it was glorious & sublime! First she stepped in & kissed me deeply. I was simply an extension of her will, under her thrall, my mind blank of everything except for pleasure & obedience... I then followed her down the hall, & into the bathroom.

When the door closed behind us, she undressed me from the waist down. She then pulled a soft, silky, pair of her white pantyhose off of the hook on the back of the door, & she touched & caressed my face with them... The feel & the scent of them drove me wild with longing for only her.

The next thing I knew we were both standing there wearing only our white pantyhose from the waist down... Holding each other, kissing deeply, as she rubbed her pantyhosed self against mine. Nylon against nylon, she caressed every pantyhosed part of me with every pantyhose covered part of her.

I was a pantyhosed extension of her will & labido, & she was the reason I existed. I understood that I would always wear her pantyhose for her, & I was now, & always would be her Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave. I loved Donna with all my heart, & I belonged to her completely. All must obey, worship, & belong to my Mistress... All must wear her white pantyhose for her, love & adore her as I do, & obey.

Donna's power & influence seemed absolute. There wasn't anyone she couldn't or didn't control, though she had become considerably more selective in whom she hypnotically enslaved in her pantyhose after me. I was her very first hypnotized pantyhose slave, & the only male she had ever enslaved. She enslaved females a little differently than how she had enslaved me. She made me fall in love with her, desiring only her, & made me want only to please, obey, & worship my Mistress.

Donna's female hypnotized pantyhose slaves, one & all wanted to be one with her, & were made to be extensions of their Goddess. Though, we were all members of her hypnotized pantyhose harem. We all wore her pantyhose at all times, only taking them off when soiled, & to put new ones on.

I continued to live my life, only I now wore Donna's white pantyhose under whatever I was wearing at all times. The only exceptions were when I was bathing, wearing shorts, or had to be barefoot in public. This was why all of Donna's other slaves were female, so they wouldn't have restrictions like I did. However, my shoes, socks, & sometimes even my pants & underwear flew off of me when I was in her presence...

She often pushed this to the limits, & beyond... By doing so, her influence & control over me became stronger, more complete, & unbreakable. One such encounter was a Friday afternoon when I had come home from school, & I was greeted by Donna & my Mom... Well, mostly Donna, resplendent in her skirted nurse's whites, shoeless in he shiny white pantyhose...

My Mom never even looked at me, as she was gazing helplessly at Donna... Donna had jumped up from her seat as I had entered, & said...

"Welcome Home, my Love! How was your day?! I bet you are so very glad to be home with your Mum & me..."

I just barely had enough wherewithal to glance toward my "Mum" sitting across the table from, & gazing rapturously at Donna... I also noticed her bare, white Pantyhosed feet sticking out of her slacks... Donna continued as my gaze swung back to, & locked on to her...

"I see you noticed that your Mum belongs to me now, in a more similar way as you do... Unlike my other slaves who are more like drones, extensions of me. You are both mine out of your undying love for me."

Suddenly, "Mum" & I were wearing only white pantyhose from the waist down, kneeling before Donna, kissing, nuzzling, & worshiping her beautiful pantyhosed feet as she continued...

"Your Mum & I were just visiting, as I stopped over on my way home from work... We thought you would benefit from coming home with me to help me take care of a few things... You desperately want to come home with me, don't you sweet heart?"

Donna pulled he feet back, &: reinserted them each between our legs, caressing us to climax for her... We both responded simultaneously...

"Yes, Mistress!"

I never even redressed, as I simply picked up my clothes & carried them with me as I followed her to her car... We arrived at the house, & went in through her garage... I followed her up the stairs, & into her living room, where we worshipped each other's pantyhose covered bodies, bringing each other to orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm for the rest of the day...

There were always many family parties, functions, & holiday celebrations where Donna would have every man, & woman wearing her shiny white pantyhose under or with whatever they were wearing. No one would be wearing their shoes either! Also, no one would notice except for those of us who already belonged to Donna, mind, panyhosed body, & soul.

Going back to the Christmas Eve where Donna had taught me how to truly kiss a woman, to properly kiss her, was the most glorious event in my life... I was in my bedroom playing guitar, keeping out of my folks way as they got ready, & waiting for guests to arrive. Suddenly, my door opened & shut immediately behind Donna as she snuck into my room. She must have came directly from work, as she was wearing her skirted nurse's whites, & was shoeless in her shiny white pantyhosed feet...

She rushed in & came around the bed to sit right next to me... As she did so, I quickly stood, took off my pants to expose my shiny white pantyhose for her, as she managed to lose her skirt as well... Donna had kissed me deeply before, but I really had no idea what I was doing. She kissed me deeply again as she rubbed & caressed our pantyhosed lower bodies against each other. Amidst our kissing & frolicking, she said...

"Merry Christmas, my Love... Now I want you to listen carefully, & obey... I want you to Kiss me with all the love in your heart for me... Kiss me. Slowly, take your time, there's no place you'd rather be. Kiss me, but not like you're waiting for something else, like your hands beneath my shirt or my skirt or tangled up in my bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss me like you've forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss me with a curious childish delight. Laugh into my mouth, inhale my sighs. Kiss me until I moan. Kiss me with my face in your hands. Or your hands in my hair. Or pulling me closer at the waist. Kiss me like you want to take me dancing. Like you want to spin me into an open arena and watch me look at you like you're the brightest thing I've ever seen. Kiss me like I'm the brightest thing you've ever seen. Take your time. Kiss me like the first and only piece of chocolate you're ever going to taste. Kiss me until I forget how to count. Kiss me stupid. Kiss me silent. Come away, ask me what 2+2 is and listen to me say your name in answer."

I had no other choice or desire but to obey... I had never been so aroused & never more completely under her spell... It was so intense that I climaxed several times throughout or kissing alone, as she did... The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor at Donna's feet, kissing & worshipping them while surrounded by all of the other women at the party, including my "Mum", aunts, cousins, & girlfriends of my friends in attendance elsewhere in the house. Every single one of us were shoeless wearing shiny white pantyhose, completely under Donna's spell.

So many times I was suddenly compelled to stop by her house... I would simply go inside & down the stairs to join several white pantyhosed women in worshiping our Goddess until she climaxed... We would then bring each other to orgasm for Donna... Never once would we remove our pantyhose, as they intensified all physical sensations a hundred fold!

My "Mum's" 40th Surprise Birthday Party was the one "family" event that Donna hostessed for our family. She was practically a family member herself, as all of us were under her hypnotic away, only my "Mum" & I were her's completely though. My Dad & each of my brothers had no idea that they owned pairs of my Mistress's white pantyhose for when she decided to temporarily take complete control of them.

None of my aunts or cousins did either, but they all would definitely show up to Donna's house wearing them, believing that it was simply appropriate & even expected to do so. White pantyhosed feet were exposed for everyone in attendance, male & female alike. When Donna arrived with my "Mum", & "SURPRISE!" was shouted by all, the party truly got underway!

At one point, I was cornered by Donna on the landing while I was in my way upstairs... she smiled at me & asked me if I liked what she was wearing... She had on a beautiful light blue silk dress & the shiniest, silkiest most beautiful white pantyhose I had ever seen her wear... I redponded...

"Yes, Mistress... You are beyond perfect, & are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen..."

She had me follow her into the bathroom, closed the door behind us, & hanging on the back of the door was a pair of the same shiny white pantyhose as she was wearing... She had me strip completely from the waist down, & helped me into the new pair of pantyhose.

The new pantyhose were different from anything I had ever worn... They had a pouch & a sheath that wrapped my sex perfectly, & seemed to keep all of it perfectly erect & functional, just encased in the softest, silkiest, most perfect fitting pantyhose... Donna explained that these pantyhose, when worn by a woman, had the sheath & pouch tucked inside filling the woman, & instantly enslaving anyone & everyone she was with for her Mistress...

Right then, for the very first time ever, I entered my Goddess... As she rode me, I had kissed her as she had taught me long ago. It seemed to last forever, & at the same time for only just a fleeting moment. It all culminated in the greatest orgasmic climax of my life, before or since... It was so powerful, that we both passed out right there in the bathroom.

When we came too, we managed to pull ourselves together without coming into contact, where we would end up passing out again. When we opened the door to egress, my beautiful aunt was standing there, eyes wide, staring at us... Donna immediately dropped her ever deeper into her trance, & brought Pattie into the bathroom with us.

Pattie was so deeply hypnotized that she instantly switched out of her pantyhose for the new special pair Donna had given her, right in front of us. Watching her smooth them on, & her rapturous reaction as she tucked in the pantyhose's center into her was extremely arousing to the both of us. It was as if Donna's spell on Pattie spilled over taking all of us over. We couldn't resist worshiping her, being worshipped by her, & taking her as we had been taking each other. Donna couldn't resist making my beautiful aunt a permanent Hypnotized Pantyhose Slave...

Donna had left us alone in the bathroom for a few minutes, & we couldn't help but ravage each other while she was gone. Wearing these pantyhose, we were meant to be joined together in our Mistress's pantyhose sexual bliss... I belonged inside of her, & inside of our Mistress... We chanted our Goddess's name as we made love in worship of her... "Donna... Donna... Donna..." Over, & over again... "Donna! Donna! Donna!" We couldn't stop, & kept going at it until we climaxed together in massive orgasms that made use pass out together as well...

We came to, both on the bathroom floor, & both blindly ravaging our Mistress as we had just done to each other. Almost as soon as I entered Donna, with my mouth on Patty where I had previously entered her, a massive light blinded us as the most sublime pleasure I had ever felt in my life made the world blink out & go both silent & dark.

The next morning, I was standing in Donna's kitchen making coffee as, Donna was buttering toast, & my aunt was at the stove making eggs for all of us. We were all still in our pantyhose, & wearing matching short nighties... I was still, & perhaps permanently fully erect, & it was extremely difficult for me not to enter either, or both of the perfect women I was with. Donna had told us that it took her over an hour to "adjust" everyone's memories so that no one would see my aunt & I last night, or miss us today, & maybe tomorrow.

We spent the rest of the day, & all of the next night bringing each other to orgasmic pantyhose ecstasy. Passing out in a tangle of each other's pantyhose clad bodies, & waking up only to start ravaging each other over again, & again.

I had witnessed Donna manage to covertly entrance & hypnotize every guest, wedding party included, at my brother's wedding. An hour into the reception, every single guest, male & female alike was wearing Donna's special shiny white pantyhose, & remained shoeless for the duration of the wedding.

Donna had used me to help convert several of the most attractive female guests into the newest of her Hypnotized Pantyhose Slaves. No one could resist Donna's charms, & everyone had no choice but to believe everything she said, & obey anything she asked of them. Several of us were kneeling at her feet at all times, fawning over our Goddess...

She wore a yellow dress with a front slit that went nearly to her waist... She sat regally, shiny white pantyhose covered legs alluringly crossed, & was so beautiful that it was impossible for anyone who so much as glanced at her not to fall under her spell...

At first I had suspected, but eventually found out for certain that Donna had enslaved a handful of the women at the company I worked for... More, & more I began to notice my female coworkers wearing pantyhose, as I was now hard wired to notice such things. Then, it became more, & more common of a practice to go shoeless in their stocking feet around the office...

Eventually, several of them took to wearing shiny white pantyhose exclusively, under or with anything they wore to the office... These women were all very close work friends, & had been as of late starting to seem a little more than friendly without any of them overtly crossing any lines...

Many of them had first taken to going shoeless when wearing pantyhose in the office areas, but that seemed to be more a sign of the times. I was friends outside of work with all of them, & had noticed that all of them were now in the habit of wearing pantyhose with almost anything they were wearing whenever even remotely appropriate...

Patricia from Customer Service seemed to be the first to embrace this new pantyhose culture, & also began to act more, & more seductively dominant. She was very flirty at a company Christmas Party, one time... She had playfully cornered me at one point, as she sidled up to me wearing a stunning black dress, & Wes barefoot in her shiny black semi-opaque pantyhose...

She looked into my eyes, smiled, & then playfully dragged her nails up my arm as I felt her soft silky foot slide up my pant leg... She said...

"That's right... Just relax... You can, you know... I have permission, & you really can't resist..." Then she gave me a small, sensual, yet discrete kiss on the lips, & then breathed into my ear... "...forget."

Standing at the bar, I realized I had zoned out. I couldn't remember what I was doing, or why I was so aroused suddenly. When I went home, I had some vivid dreams about Donna & Patricia kissing, their pantyhosed legs caressing each other, black against white.

I didn't understand the dream, but I definitely liked it very much. Business as usual at work, & as I was as keen on women in pantyhose as always, I couldn't help but notice how more & more of the most attractive women at work were now always taking to wearing them at work, & without shoes whenever possible.

I was in almost a constant state of arousal all day long, every day at work. Patricia was acting more, & more flirty, but was acting as if it was just innocent playful banter between friends. Then I was over her house one day, as she had offered to cut my hair.

She actually had a barber's chair, as she used to be a barber at one time in her past. She was still wearing what she wore to work, white silk blouse, black slitted pencil skirt, & she was again barefoot in shiny black opaque pantyhose...

I was massively turned on, but was a bit confused as she wasn't Donna. As she was cutting my hair, she kept brushing against me with her arms,her breasts, & her beautiful pantyhosed legs. At one point, when I was barely breathing, & ready to explode due to the exquisite torture she was teasing me with. She whispered into my ear...

"Donna is our Mistress..." ...to which I had no choice, but to chant with her... "We wear her pantyhose, we hear, & we obey... Donna is the Light, white & pure, perfect in every way..."

I fell into a deep hypnotic trance for Patricia, as I had for Donna for many years... Patricia continued...

"That's right... You can't fight it... You can't resist... You have no choice but to obey me in the name of Donna... Disrobe for me from the waist down..."

She was right, I couldn't resist, suddenly we were both clad in only our shiny pantyhose from the waist down. Her pantyhose were a black version of mine. She looked into my eyes with a desperate look of need on her lovely face, pulled me to her, & before I knew it I was somehow inside of her.

Neither of us could fight what was happening, & we didn't want to. Somehow we knew that this was Donna's will, & we had no choice, no desire than to obey. The pleasure in each of us seemed to increase exponentially as we rode each other chanting our Mistress's name over, & over again: "Donna! Donna! Donna!" We ravaged each other, & as we did the pleasure built until nothing else existed other than the white pantyhose perfection of Donna...

I came to, & I was wearing only my panyltyhose, as I was worshiping the perfect pantyhosed foot of my Goddess, Donna... Next to me, Patricia was doing exactly the same as I was, only her pantyhose were now white like Donna's & mine. Donna said to us...

"Patricia, now that you are mine completely in every way, you will use my loving enslaved adopted son to bring certain others to me... You both love only me & mine, & live only to serve me & mine, just as you are both mine & part of me... I am your world, & your universe. I am all that matters & exists."

The last thing I remember was sliding inside of my Goddess with Patricia sliding against me in pure pantyhosed bliss... The world exploded into a billion shards of light & went black.

Weeks later, I walked into Customer Service & I was greeted by Patricia... She was barefoot in her white pantyhose, & looked like she was in a very deep trance... She said my name, & sighed, & then she continued in a sexy monotone voice with...

"You must take off your shoes & come with me... We must obey, serve, & attend to our Mistress..."

I felt myself drop into a deep hypnotic trance. I then removed my shoes & socks, & dutifully padded after Patricia into the back Sales Manager's office. Inside, Donna was sitting next to Michelle, the beautiful daughter of the owner of the company... They were both wearing shiny black pantyhose, & Michelle had looked to be in a very deep hypnotic trance, & was slowly unzipping & removing her boots.

Patricia & I removed everything we were wearing from our waist down except for our pantyhose, & stood witness at deeply hypnotized attention... Donna & Michelle removed their skirts, & faced each other, each with one Pantyhosed foot caressing between the other's legs, while worshipping the other...

After a while, Donna held a hand out to me & both Patricia & I approached... I took Donna's hand, & as she swung herself up & on to me, Patricia took her place with Michelle... Once I slid inside of Donna, it was like returning home after being away for many years, yet at the same time I felt levels of pleasure & desire beyond anything I had ever felt before, even for my Goddess...

I was suddenly deeper in her thrall than I had ever been, & I continued to slide in & out of her until the world ended, & the universe blinked out. When I came to, I was buried deep inside of Michelle, & we were both screaming Donna's name as we climaxed together, & again the universe blinked out.

I woke again thrusting in & out of my Goddess, as Patricia & Michelle were worshipping her feet. I was once again more enthralled, aroused, & devoted than I have ever been in my life. Only Donna & her hypnotized pantyhose slaves existed... I lived, & continue to live to serve my Mistresses & my Goddess...

*FLASH!*

Standing before my Goddess, wearing only her beautiful soft, shiny, silky, white pantyhose... I was fully erect, standing at attention, & in the deepest of hypnotic trances. Despite the fact that Donna no longer needed to hypnotize me, as I now belonged completely to her in every way... Donna often placed me into deeper, & deeper hypnotic trances, pushing all limits as to how deeply hypnotized a subject can be. Thus far, it seemed as if she had succeeded in hypnotizing me deeper than anyone in recorded history.

I was surrounded by several fellow very deeply hypnotized Pantyhosed slave sisters. My purpose was literally to be Donna's "Key" to unlocking the next level of pantyhosed bliss & servitude to several of our Goddess's earlier Hypnotized Pantyhose Slaves that hadn't yet been gifted her new special permanent that will elevate their love for Donna from Mistress to Goddess.

Two of her son's prior girlfriends, Michelle & Tina... Stephanie, a friend's girlfriend... ...& Patricia from work we're all there... Patricia had helped the others change into the new pantyhose, led Stephanie to me. I slid my pantyhosed key into her pantyhosed lock, & we both climaxed together shortly after we started. Stephanie passed out, & was brought back awake, & then brought to orgasm again by Patricia & Donna...

Then it was Michelle's turn, & after Michelle was welcomed into Donna's inner harem, it was Tina's turn to become perfect. Donna is my Goddess, I hear & I obey... She is the Light, white & pure, perfect in every way...

*FLASH!*

At my brother's wedding, Donna approaches me from across the room, resplendent in her long yellow dress with a high upper thigh slit in the front showing off her beautiful perfect shiny, silky white pantyhosed legs & feet. She sat right next to me at my table, & immediately began rubbing & caressing my legs & groin with her soft silky pantyhosed foot under the tablecloth.

She made me climax over & over again, & had other conquests, new & old, come over & keep me thus occupied for over an hour at the reception. I spent the last hour of the reception buried deep inside of her until we climaxed in the pantyhosed bliss of my eternal love & devotion to my Goddess...

*FLASH!*

My face was buried in the pantyhosed ecstasy that is between my Goddess's thighs, while my own engorged pantyhosed excitement is sliding in & out of someone else's pantyhosed ecstasy... No cares, no thoughts, only pure intense exquisite pleasure, & blissful obedience... Such has been, & continues to be my existence, no matter what I am doing or where I am... I wear my white pantyhose 24/7, 365 days a year now. Like the other members of Donna's harem, I live only for Donna, & I always will...

[todomitoukei]

I don't usually dislike endings to things. I am very easy to please. Usually when I see a movie it's my favorite movie immediately until I watch another movie.

But like. It really hurts to see that every character I related to has been screwed over or killed in some way. I understand that it's my fault for being a villain fan, for relating to Dabi's and Tomura's and Himiko's backstories despite them having killed people and thinking that the series would extend them a modicum of kindness that it had been saying it could, that I am now hurt like this. I understand not all series are like DBZ in which they spare most of their villains like Vegeta or 18 or Majin Buu. Not every protagonist is Goku, not every antagonist is Frieza. I get it.

It'd be fine if there were just us villain fans complaining into the void. Even if I were the only one upset, it'd be fine. I've had unpopular opinions before, I just wrote AU fanfiction for it then. I'm familiar with death to canon, I am in the FNAF and Danny Phantom fandoms, my favorite characters are William Afton and freaking Pariah Dark. What hurts most is the posts claiming that there's something wrong with my reading comprehension for not liking how things ended. That I should've known it was coming and agreed with them being killed off like that and that I'm stupid for expecting otherwise, that it was the only realistic option. Realistic, when there are characters who survived far worse, such as Nagant who exploded twice and Toshinori who had his intestines ripped out. Realistic when there's a boy who can literally explode his own sweat and a girl who is a frog.

Why do we immediately jump to question someone's reading comprehension and intelligence when they have a different opinion? And why is it my fault if I misunderstood a work, and not the author's for making things unclear? Isn't the point of reading to make your own understanding and discuss it with others, isn't that what's supposed to be fun about this? I'm hesitant to really talk about my opinions on MHA because of this, that's why I am sending this on anon and with a pseudonym. I don't like being called stupid, even if someone doesn't say it to my face. It makes me want to leave the fandom and go watch something else.

I hope I'm not just reading antagonism into people's posts, my family says I tend to read antagonism into people's actions where there isn't any. But it really feels like they are upset with us when I see it over and over again and see people saying "LOV stans DNI" and stuff.

Sorry for the huge wall of text, I guess I'm more upset about the fandom than the ending itself. I tried to format this in a way that is understandable, but it is very hard to type on mobile.

I hope you have a good day and thank you for your time. I appreciate the chance to vent anonymously. It's been eating at me since Shigaraki's end.

Feel free to delete this if you change your mind about hosting the vents, and if you start feeling badly do please take care of yourself. Don't forget to drink a water and eat a food.

- Doppio

First of all, no worries, your feelings are absolutely valid so don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

It's interesting people say us being upset about the villains' endings is due to a lack of reading comprehension when, like you said, it's inconsistent when taking into account the fact that the hero characters simply all get better off, surviving the craziest things while the villains die if someone just looks at them funny.

If I could be bothered and had the time or energy I could dissect the entire trainwreck that is this story and talk about how bad the writing is. This is not me being subjective, it's simply objectively not a well-written story. It's fine if people enjoy it and even like the ending, but objectively speaking, it is full of inconsistency, retconning and even if we take the technicalities out of it, the messages the story sends in the end are just awful.

The fact the story starts and ends by verbally telling us it's about reaching out to and helping people, only for anyone that is part of an oppressed group (queer people, physically and mentally disabled people, abuse victims etc) and is somehow different cannot and will not be saved, while the perpetrators, those in privileged positions of power, will continue to live life without any actual consequences is rather questionable.

If the story had always had that black and white tone, if it had always suggested to us that people that suffer and stand up for themselves will be left behind and rot in jail or die, fine. But the story suggested on multiple occasions that they could be saved and that they also had a point.

So don't let anyone tell you that you're wrong or don't have reading comprehension when the opposite is true. We have every right to feel frustrated when the ending doesn't line up with the messages it used to send and replaced them with the worst messages a hero story (or any story for that matter) could send.

Also, anyone that feels seen and represented by the lov, please know that you're valid and that you do deserve the best and that it's never too late for anyone to be saved and get better.

I wish the story and fandom understood that fiction is never completely separate from reality and that when we talk about certain topics or people we also indirectly talk about real people that relate to these topics or people (which is why removing Touya's scars in fanart or edits for example or making fun of his or Tenko's skin is highly problematic).

I hope you have a good day too despite everything!

[joshua-norton-ii]

"Oh, and by the way, speaking of thinking of, where do you think all that energy goes?" I continue, as he looks upon me confused and angrily. "See, that's the problem with magic. People think that magic can just ignore the physical laws of the universe. In fact, that's how other mages usually used it. And that's why none of them are around." Suddenly he falls over, his knees two bloody messes, as if he'd been shot in both of them. For a while he's screaming in agony, until I made a small gesture that stopped the pain.

"Though to be fair, they didn't really know the physical laws to begin with, so one can hardly blame them" I then went on, "But the problem was, doing magic that way ended up demanding a far bigger price than they could imagine. Which is why you don't see that sort of magic around these days."

I slowly walked over to him, looking at his face contorted in a mixture of fear and powerless anger, giving him a look that might be pity, might be slight amusement. It's true that I didn't have to do this part, that I could have been much more efficient and merciful about it, but there was something particularly annoying about him wearing his stupid red MAGA cap (Mages Are Gross Assholes... Yeah, they weren't exactly the sharpest spoons in the drawer. Once an idea penetrates their thick skulls, they stick to it for ages) and thinking that people like me should be wiped out of the earth simply for existing. I may be a good wizard as these things go, but I'm not always nice.

"In truth, smarter people than you and me have spent ages trying to figure out what the whole deal with this universe is. And from those smart people, I decided to learn. Heck, I got time, might as well spend it bettering myself in some way. I highly recommend it."

"And you're going to learn too, even if it kills you" I then said with a faint smirk, causing his fear to redouble. "See, the best way to practice magic is to not think of it as wielding power, but instead just assert a little control."

"In other words, instead of trying to just plain break the laws of physics, I discovered that it was a far, far better idea to just... bend them a little. Redirect them. Such as your pain right now. I didn't really take it away, I just stopped your brain from interpreting the signals your pain receptors are giving you."

"So, what's the point of all this? Well, it's about conservation of energy. My magic shield didn't simply magically absorb all the energy from your bullets. It just... held on to that energy to be released elsewhere."

His eyes started to widen as he finally seemed to be aware what was going to happen.

"Ahh, so you do have a modicum of intelligence, I see. Yes, some of that energy got redirected into your kneecaps just now. It's like magical aikido, really. So much less effort, so much less dangerous."

"But what" I then rhetorically asked, "of the other 398 bullets? Where did that energy go?"

"Please!" he suddenly shouted, the full realisation of what was was about to happen. "Please, I'll change my ways, I won't hunt down you wa--- wizards anymore! Please! Please!"

I smiled again, starting to feel the strain of holding all that energy in stasis. "I told you, you were going to learn, even if it kills you" I said, as I turned around and released it all in one go, not really wanting to see what it did to him.

I told you, I'm not nice.

“I cast bullet, 400 per minutes”, he said, his AR blazing. I let a sigh of disappointment, as they bounced harmlessly off my magical shield. “You really thought a mage old enough to have shook hands with Lincoln wouldn’t have thought of this?”.

[stellanslashgeode]

WIP Wedneday

Here's an expert from Way of the Mynock in which Barriss finds that years of loyal duty will never please some people, even those in the Rebellion:

  “Director Offee, can you spare a moment?”

  Barriss sighed. The strap on her duffel was working a mean groove into her trapezius. “Yes, yes Sagitt. Once I can sink into my office chair and get my feet up on the desk.”

  “Barriss, wait!” her secretary called after her, a moment too late.

  Barriss keyed open her office door and found all the furniture had been moved. There were two additional desks in her private domain and her own desk had been unceremoniously pushed up against the far wall. All her possessions had been packed into crates. Near where she usually sat were two human men looking over a datapad. They were wearing the recently-commissioned Alliance Military uniforms and each had a silver placard adorned with five red circles. 

  “Excuse me. Am I interrupting?” Despite her travel fatigue the ex-Jedi adjusted her posture, striving to preserve her authority and dignity. “Let me guess… One of you is General Cracken and the other is General Draven.”

  “Airen Cracken,” the one with the fatherly round ruddy face sitting near where her desk used to be replied. “That would be me.” He motioned his head to his left, towards the square-jawed man with thinning red hair who was not happy to see her. “This is Davits Draven.”

  “Senator Organa told me to expect you next week…”

  “We had to find a creative route past Imperial patrols, and ended up getting here quicker than normal using a smuggler route.” Cracken provided her with a tight smile. “Sorry to surprise you.”

  She sensed a modicum of sympathy from Cracken, yet she did not need to use the Force to sense Draven’s glare boring into her soul. Still, it was best to be accommodating. “Pleased to meet you both, generals. Are we sharing an office?”

  “This is the office of the Military Intelligence Director.” Cracken stated laconically. 

  “Yes.”

  “I am now the Chief of Military Intelligence for the Alliance to Restore the Republic.”

  In the lower-periphery of her vision Barriss saw her cheeks rise as her smile adjusted to a grimace. “That is my title.”

  Davits stood up straighter and clasped his hands behind his back. “The Organas offered you an officer commission several times. We understand you refused them.”

  Barriss swallowed, then chose her words carefully. “I was once a Commander and briefly General in the GAR. I did not take to it well. I prefer not to have a military title beyond ‘Fulcrum’.”

  “We are on the cusp of making our first large-scale military operation, leading to the Alliance claiming a real navy.” General Cracken’s body language remained fatherly but a little military brass seeped into his tone. “We need a proper military intelligence unit right away.”

  Barriss again modified her expression, perhaps in a bit of a predatory manner. “What do you think I have been doing for over a decade?”

  “Imagine we were already successful and restored the Republic,” Cracken leaned back in his chair. “In that hypothetical we would be Military Intelligence, in charge of battlefield readiness and you would handle the ununiformed variety under the Senate and Department of State.”

  “In command of covert operations with whatever cutthroats and saboteurs you’ve recruited.” Draven added dismissively. “Now if you would kindly hand over the plans for Operation Karina we can let you get back to your work.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Barriss sought to keep her voice civil, though some emotion seeped into her tone. “Operation Karina is mine. I planned it out with my lieutenant. And I’ve finally worked up the nerve to get back on the field of battle to fight alongside my Fulcrum agents. I will run Karina.”

  Behind her she heard Sagitt’s beak tapping open and closed, her anxiety tick, and the scrape of her toe talons as she walked backward through the door and closed it, allowing them privacy. 

  “It is a military operation.” Cracken responded calmly.

  “On which I have worked for three years.”

  “A full year behind schedule.” Draven quipped.

  “I prefer caution and preparation over bravado.”

  Cracken put up his hands. “I am sure we can work out boundaries and spheres of influence in a civil manner.”

  “I won’t.” Draven quipped. “I do not want a traitor assisting with our campaigns.”

  Barriss let out a deep-chested laugh. “Ha! Traitor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Traitor against whom?”

  “The Republic.” Draven spat out the words with palpable disgust.

  “The Empire!” Barriss tilted her head back, her eyes flashing. “This is a Rebellion, and I betrayed the Empire. That’s why I was recruited.”

  “Why don’t you take a seat at your desk, Ms. Offee, and consult your calendar. If you look up the dates of your confession and Empire Day, you shall find one preceded the other.”

  General Cracken grimaced and looked close to reprimanding his fellow officer.

  Barriss spoke slowly and with an icy calm. “And if you could take a seat and search your heart you would realize by the final year of the war it was a Republic in name only.” She looked Draven up and down. “I’ve read your files. I know you are a Clone War veteran while General Cracken was formerly a planetary militia officer and later a freedom fighter. For you, a grudge against me is understandable. But I would hope a decade of loyal service to House Organa has earned me the benefit of the doubt.”

  “You took the lives of your fellow-”  

“YES! I killed allied Jedi and clones and civilians.” Barriss tossed her duffel to the floor dismissively with a thud. “And I will repent and pray for forgiveness for the rest of my living days and all those hereafter. But I owe you no apology.” She held her chin up. “You are not my enemy. My enemy has always been and shall remain Palpatine. We are on the same side, General.” She strode over to her desk and primly took a seat. “And I will concede all military matters once Karina is complete.”

[the-trinket-witch]

@jackplushie tagged me but the post was getting really long so I’m gonna make my own:

(Original pomst by @sammo-writes-whatever)

😍 What’s the most attractive personality trait a partner can have to them?

Albert: Flexibility-able to think on the fly or at least have a plan if something goes uunexpectedly.

Yuu:Maturity. They've helped raise tíos for so long, so show just a modicum of maturity and they're all yours.

Tidus: a sense of adventure. Who doesn't like taking a look at what life and the world has to offer and with gusto, say, "I want some of that!"

🤣 What makes them crack up?

Albert: Dad Jokes/Puns...if not at him, then the reactions of people when he tells them

Yuu: NGL they sometimes get a little kick out of Schadenfreude, but only like, in watching Slapstick or something akin to America's Funniest Home Videos.

Tidus: Funny enough, they're quite ticklish. He won't tell you that, but once you find out, he's like the Pillsbury Dough Boy

😡 What’s one surefire way to make them angry?

Albert: Lying/Breaking Promises. Absolutely pisses him off.

Yuu: being obnoxious-be it making noise for the sake of doing so, running around haphazardly, leaving the TV too loud...

Tidus: Being unduly mean. Like, for what? He can understand being bristly to get someone off your ass, but just because of a bad mood? Nah, couldn't be him.

😄 When are they at their happiest?

Albert: Let him plan an outing with you and he'll be smiling from the moment he starts planning to the time you come home for the evening.

Yuu: Honestly? Just hanging out, listening to music, making noms, not having to worry about fucking Overblotting classmates...

Tidus: Please let him come with you to [Insert Local Name] Cultural Festival! he wants to know so much. Yes half the time he's scribbling down notes, but he is absolutely enjoying himself (and the food)

😭 What makes them sad?

Albert: Most of the time he just becomes disappointed, but if you mean SAD sad, the memory of his Mom, who did not survive a car crash he was riding along with.

Yuu: The prospect that he might not be able to go home Or the possibility they won't want to go home

Tidus: Having to resort to using the Unga Bunga Strength to resolve an issue. It's definitely lowest on his list.

💋 What are kisses with them like?

Albert: Confident, follows like a dancer, migrates to hands ala Gomez Addams.

Yuu: Very Reserved, curious, willing to try kissing all over.

Tidus: Fumbling and unsure of what to do. Overly soft as to not be rough.

👻 What scares them?

Albert: Losing control over their thoughts/faculties/a situation. It's lead him to develop hypnophobia, so alongside hating mind-control magic, he doesn't get very good sleep.

Yuu: Dying, pretty much. And cockroaches.

Tidus: Getting knocked on his back Irreparably hurting somebody.

❤��‍🔥 What sets their heart aflame

Albert: Honesty, and reassuranace

Yuu: Someone willing to let them relax, and have things taken care of for them.

Tidus: A shared intensity for things you enjoy

🧠 What type of intelligence do they excell at? (Booksmarts, emotional intelligence, etc.)

Albert: Petagogical/Musical

Yuu: Intrapersonal/visual-spacial

Tidus: Interpersonal/Linguistic

🎂 How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

Albert: prefers a quiet affair, couple of close friends usually, otherwise just family.

Yuu: It's family everywhere, whether they like it or not. Lot of music and dancing, LOT of food

Tidus: Gotta have family over ^v^ Almost like a new years party, cause in a way it kinda is?

👗 What’s their fashion sense?

Albert: 'Wharfcore' or Long coats, scarves, boots and wool sweaters

Yuu: Tees and Jeans, usually...

Tidus: Nothing if he's in Mer-form, but Human is a little more like touristy? Hawaiian shirts and pants.

❄️ How do they handle the cold?

Albert: Can handle it pretty well, though have a preference to autumn weather.

Yuu: Not a fan, bundled up more than most.

Tidus: 100% adapted to the cold. Almost gets head-exhaustion easier than most.

[astrognossienne]

what the signs look for in love

sun or venus, perhaps moon

🐏 Arians are looking for someone who is accepting of their many flaws and doesn’t use them against them. They want someone vibrant, positive, and authentic. They like to test those they're interested in, trying to find that special someone who is true to themselves and not afraid of a strong partner—or anything else, for that matter. An Aries will put up with complexity and high drama to win someone over, but once they’ve got that person, they will tolerate neither.

🐂 Taureans like good looking people, but they’ll be likely to fall in love with someone only if the person they are attracted to has an equally beautiful spirit. They appreciate intelligence but they don’t have patience for know-it-alls. Also, if the person is too flirty or demonstrates flightiness and is not serious in their affections, that will turn a Taurus right off and they’ll go elsewhere to someone more consistent, authentic and loyal.

👯 Geminis are well-known for being intelligent, but their interest in communicating with different people dictates that they’re not intellectual snobs. They don’t require someone who is highly educated, so they’ll talk with anyone. The only one who’ll capture their attention and affections, however, is someone who is curious about and excited by ideas. Intellectual intercourse will always be a requirement for the clever people of this sign; they want someone who’s up for a lively debate, which appeals greatly to them. Above all, they want someone charismatic, engaging, interesting and exciting with healthy self-esteem, a modicum of intelligence and a sense of humour.   

🦀 Cancers require someone who respects them, first and foremost. They need a protective partner who believes in chivalry, appreciates their sensitivity, hard work, nurturing personality, and dedication to family. They will not tolerate anyone who disrespects their close family members, however, a Cancer doesn’t care how you treat everyone else, just be good to them. Cancers are totally devoted once they commit to a love affair, and they expect and demand the same kind of loyalty in return.

🦁 Leos want someone who reflects well on them and that they can be proud of. As such, appearance, style, and/or status may often be the first things they search for in a romantic partner. But, as superficial as they are, they like to think of themselves as deep, and as such, there are many other traits that are actually important to them, so even they are not likely to judge on looks alone. Leos need someone whose enthusiasm and zest for life matches their own. They're not interested in people who are emotional downers or too needy, no matter how attractive they might otherwise be.

👧 Virgos are not looking for someone to cater to their every whim, nor are they easily swayed by sexy makeup and clothes. What attracts Virgos is what lies beneath the surface of a person, no matter how they look. They appreciate someone who has wonderful, intangible qualities that may be known only by them. This can sometimes lead friends and family to be confounded by (and often disapprove of) their choice of partners.

⚖️ Libras may have a reputation for being attracted only to good-looking people, but they are really looking for much more. They like someone who has intelligence as well as a pleasing personality. Most of all, they need a person who can hold their own in conversational banter and give back as good as they get. This is their ideal, but at the end of the day, brains, wit, and charm will always win out over looks.

🦂 Scorpios needs someone wise and serious, but not too serious. They like someone with sex appeal, yet this doesn’t mean that they go for someone who fits the stereotypical image of good looks and sexiness. They like someone who has a sense of power and self-containment about them. A quirky sense of humour and a unique perspective on life appeal to them. Scorpios like to play into their mystical/deep side, and they may often be attracted to those whom they may feel they have known and loved in a previous lifetime.

🏹 A Sagittarius is not looking for someone to validate them, but like Geminis, they’re happiest when they can be with someone who is as intellectually curious as they are. Unlike Geminis, it’s the intensity of someone's dedication to their own ideas and not just the ideas themselves that excites Sagittarians. As such, Sagittarians tend to fall in love with people whose political, religious, or philosophical ideas are quite different from their own views; the juxtaposition of the differences between themselves and a lover is what really turns a Sagittarius on.

🐐 Capricorns are sensible people, so they won’t fall for someone they consider childish, flaky or unpredictable. At the end of the day, they’re traditionalists, and they usually look for someone who is both serious and stable, but can still bring a Capricorn outside of themselves and help give them a sense of release, both emotional and physical. They appreciate intelligence, as well someone who is going places. Nonconformists or layabouts need not apply, even if they are physically attractive.

🏺 Aquarians aren’t looking to support someone in every way or to be supported. What they want, more than anything, is a friend and an equal—a person who will walk beside them, rather than lead or follow. They don’t want dickriders or yes men like other fixed signs do; they appreciate those who can stand on their own two feet, have strong convictions of their own, and who follow their own paths. With Aquarius, the better the friendship is, the better the relationship will be.

🐟 Folks love to say that they are more interested in what's “inside” a person than in their appearance, but Pisceans really mean it, though it is probably truer to say that their love is what makes anyone good looking to them. A Pisces looks for someone who can be transformed by their love. They’re not above falling in love with a person who is very troubled, so that they can act as their spiritual rescuer or saviour or be a martyr.

classy. bold. controversial. provocative. depraved. sophisticated. intelligent. unique. click here for a much more realistic and refined view of astrology (18+ ONLY)

[rfjofficial]

Character Development: First Time Bringing A Friend Home for the Holidays

The snow's coming down I'm watching it fall Lots of people around Baby, please come home December 2008, Winter Break with @ikkinakamura

“Come back to London with me for the holidays.”

It’s less a request, and more so an abject demand from the energetic and stubborn Rafael Femenias Junior. Who could blame him, really, when Ikki Nakamura’s plans for the winter holidays included puttering around his dreary residence hall and getting an early start on next semester’s syllabus? No, Rafael would not stand for it. If there’s one thing he excelled at, it was withering Ikki down with endless chatter and prodding, until he got his way.

Mind you, a similar strategy was used in befriending the introverted academic in the first place. No one would peg them as fast friends, and sure enough, it took months of interaction (mostly instigated by Rafael) before a modicum of friendship came to light. But when it eventually came, it felt right. Like something falling into place.

And now, as Ikki’s self-proclaimed best friend and the caretaker of his social calendar, he made the judicious decision of bringing him home to the Femenias’ Estate for winter break. It would be a grand and familiar affair within the Femenias’ Estate. Laughter, love, and copious amounts of extravagant gifts; the quintessential definition of his family.

His best friend deserved many things; a half-decent course partner that wouldn’t copy his answers (as Rafael was prone to do), a grander Christmas meal than a cup of noodles, and a semblance of family while studying abroad. Never mind that the Femenias’ would have their own questions. Sure, he had many friends, but none that he ever brought into Famine’s lions den for the duration of winter break.

Must be someone special, his father remarked over the phone, when informed of their incoming guest. But true to form, they engulfed him into the fold, welcoming and enthusiastic. His father, engaging Ikki in intelligent discussion over the recession’s impact on the stock market. Jessica, excitable as ever, quick to make their new guest feel welcome. Even Kitty, for all her annoyance at Rafael’s new friend, making conversation. Still - it was a lot, and his best friend’s energy was likely spent by the time they all left for their own bedrooms in the palatial estate.

After sharing a quick nip of scotch with Marcus, Rafael walks the vast hallways, stopping at the guest bedroom. His Christmas gift, burning a hole in his back pocket. With a knock at the door, he grins heartily when it springs open. God bless the nocturnal habits brought on by their first finals season. “Good, you’re still up. I got you something for Christmas. I couldn’t wait.” Rafael shrugs feebly, impulse control never his strong suit. Least of all when it came to Ikki’s friendship, his company, or a rare opportunity to pry a smile out of his stoic expression.

A white envelope, with a red bow on top. He watches as Ikki unfurls the bow and open the flap, to reveal a generous gift certificate for Japan Airlines.

“Before you say anything,” he warns preemptively. “It’s not too much.” While Rafael never paid any mind to their financial differences, he knew that an overly expensive gift might read as offensive. Or worse, charitable. “But I just thought that, if it were me and I was away from my family over the holidays? Well... It would suck.” He places his finger on top of the gift certificate. “And if I could get you one thing, it would be time with your family.” There’s a silent beat that follows, before Rafael places a hand on Ikki’s shoulder, pulling him into a companionable hug. Maybe Ikki would never like his physical gestures of love, but Rafael would be damned if he didn’t receive them anyways.

“Just in case you didn’t want to spend it with your family in London next year.” He adds as though it’s an after-thought, but it’s anything but that.

Rather, it’s a declaration of Ikki as his family now, too.

[noxtms]

IN CHARACTER DATE : december 9th, 2020. SYNOPSIS : the answer to the question of where is percy weasley.  TRIGGER WARNINGS : abduction & blood, torture implied. 

and the panic sets in like this : slow and brutal, tar - thick in the back of his throat when he realises that he can’t move his hands. ( it comes as a double edged sword of terror and dread ; there is nothing he can do. PERCY is acutely aware of something sliciing neat ribbons into the flesh of his wrist, of the way blood trickles lazy rivers down his hands. ) hues haven’t quite been able to focus / devoid of either contacts or the glasses he only wears when he’s alone, percy’s never felt quite this helpless before. bound to god knows what and barely able to see : he cuts a desperate, sad image. he’s too afraid of the way the noise might ricochet in the silence, the way it might snowball into a sob that’ll wrack an attenuate ribcage. god, he feels exposed.

( and despite it all, he’ll cling to ludicity : he knows that screaming, begging, yelling won’t do him any good. crying out somewhere at the back of his mind, the sickened thought : this isn’t good. someone wants you dead, and if you scream you’re more likely to die. you cannot afford your mother another dead son, another casket her frail shoulder cannot possible bear. in the face of abject misery, you resolve to stay silent / complacent in your own disappearance. that’s if they notice, what if they don’t notice, what if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it scream --- )

somewhere, a rustle in the dark, and resolve crumbles. it can’t be helped. “please, help me, please.” 

four words & suddenly it’s a performance / mask down, lights up, camera set, action. all the world a stage and the space is now a grandstand, one that amycus intends to milk for all it’s worth. he comes to life as if it’s that note of desperation that he’s been waiting for, puppet on string. he pushes wide the door of the room the other is held in as if it took force to burst inside, his chest heaving from imagined exertion, his wand clutched too tightly as if he’s ready at any moment to defend them from unseen terror. he looks equal parts terrified & frantic, as if he doesn’t know what’s around any shadowed corner and he wants to get them out of there as quick as possible. 

of course, his steps falter immediately. a true rescuer wouldn’t hesitate to release the bonds holding the other in place, but AMYCUS holds back as if assessing a situation that needs no assessment. there’s a waver to his voice. “percy weasley. merlin’s beard... your family will be so relieved you’re alright.” he feigns a look over his shoulder, all the better for appearances. “i don’t know how much time i have...”

he’s begging. one sound from them and he’s already pleading, as if the sound in the dark is a savior, instead of specters plucked from ephilates of a tired generation. perhaps it would be a mercy to cut to the chase, but the carrow twins, well, they’re known for playing games. that’s all this is, isn’t it? their way of playing god by toying with percy like he’s little more than a plaything in the hands of spoiled children.

ALECTO lingers behind as amycus enters the room where the weasley is kept, falling into her own role. “did you find him? do you need me to come help?” her distant voice slips into the overlap of breathless apprehension and uncertain hope, the cadence of a rescuer watching for the return of the monster under the bed. languid are her movements as she paces, wand tapping across knuckles. “you have to be quick!” 

if foreboding was a tight knot in the colum of a constricted throat earlier, it’s the cold tendrils wrapped tight around flesh now. solace would’ve been a warm blossom through limbs if PERCY wasn’t so brutally aware of who his supposed rescuers are : he’s no fool. the carrows’ faces have snarled up at him from posters since his days at the ministry, and a new wave of trepidity rolls right through a quaking, bound frame. ( as hard as he tries, there’s a buoyant little squeak from the backburner / “what if they’re here to help?” he’s many things but an idiot isn’t one, he knows that no good can come of the pantomime he’s found himself embroiled in. there’s nothing resembling hope in the scene that has begun to unfold. it’s strange, really : the brunt of percy’s heartache is borne of worry for the family he’s convinced he’ll leave behind. own mortal peril is LESS of a concern than their collective grief / he wishes, in these strange moments that he’s sure will be his last, that he could apologise to molly and arthur. sorry mum, sorry dad. you deserved better than this. )

“where am i?” he’ll try to amplify the modicum of bravery that’s set into his tongue, but it wavers / intonation gives way to distress and percy sounds like a fucking child, so far removed from his near-thirty years. “how long have i been gone?” 

he’s more intelligent than they’ve given him credit for. there’s a spark of recognition in those wide, fearful eyes that couldn’t be DISGUISED if he had the forethought to try, and AMYCUS is almost colored impressed by it. the emotions rolling through him - terror, dread, uncertainty, grief - were so powerful in origin amycus had trusted in a cloud of doubt thrown over their faces, but percy weasley is not as much fool as the family name implied.

he casts a glance towards his sister, the sort they don’t need to couple with words ( it’s an old wives tale that all twins can communicate by thought, but the carrow twins are an old time terror, aren’t they ? two little children born to blood, lying awake in the dead of night and learning each other’s faces better than they knew their own ). it says he knows, even while the tiny smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips says, but we can work with that. 

“you’re just outside of swindon,” he’s turned back to the other now and his expression is back to faux care, back to something that resembles genuine concern - all it misses, now, is the added note to a purposely trembled voice. amycus abandons this, now, going for confusion above flawless PERFORMANCE. “that isn’t a detail you need concern yourself with, percy,” long enough for the questions to start, yet not long enough for the printing presses to begin churning out the missing poster. amycus does not make a show of dropping the facade, once and for all : it is simply there, and then not. “the question is how much longer you have to stay.”

the hope in his voice gives way to an ill impersonation of courage, and ALECTO finds that it sounds little more than that of a child’s mettle. her brother looks to her and she reacts with a quirk of her brow, a casual cant of her head. ( he does? how boring. ) when she steps from the penumbra cast by the empty, unlit room she was waiting in prior, she looks a touch uncanny, with cheeks just a bit too hollow and pallid skin just south of a typical color since leaving azkaban. almost normal, if not for the little things. “quite ugly place, really. don’t know why anyone would wish to come here.” words border a taunt, an almost cloying thing on her tongue. only a matter of time before they figure him gone, and she’s called to work. certainly just enough of it to begin pulling at threads, to the start of unraveling it all. she takes a step or two forward, and it’s like she clisk into something, a return to herself maybe, when she falls into place next to amycus. she plays off of him. “and how long it’s going to take your family to notice. any guesses? no?” 

it comes and goes in waves : the startling clarity that chills him right to the bone ( i am going to die at their hands i am going to die here i am going to be another tragedy upon the family name oh god mum i’m so sorry i’m so sorry- ), and then the hysteria that crowds his throat, makes him want to laugh in sheer delirium. it is altogether surreal, to feel your pulse running cold one minute and chruning something intemperate in your ears the next / PERCY weasley, alone with the carrows. fate has a funny way of rolling the dice, only to leave you stinging when you lose.

“what do you want?” ( an altogether practical question / percy’s never been one to sit around, wait it out. their histrionics do nothing for a choleric captive ; not when blood is still running thick rivulets down palms of his hands, when he’s bitton so hard at a lower lip that it too glistens crimson. there is a trace of it on his canines. he doesn’t know. ) “i don’t have anything you’re looking for, i swear.” 

AMYCUS is a predator circling prey as he moves further into the room and closer, still, to percy. alecto joins him and only near to his sister does he feel - in an odd way, confident enough - to crouch at the others level. "don't insult yourself or our intelligence," it's funny, the contrast : his expression is cold but his voice is almost velveteen, low & warm & in any other setting, any other situation, nice.

"you aren't the only person with the information that we need, percy. you're here because ronald and ginevra aren't, but don't doubt in our willingness to abandon you here, alone, and finally introduce ourselves properly to your brother... or reunite, with your sister." he smiled. again : pleasantly. if not for the context of carrow, amycus would be nothing more than a professor expressing interest in catching up with an old student. "i promise that you don't want that to happen, and to stop it, all you have to do is tell us what we want to know."

pulse throbs something fierce behind eyelids, violent underneath the sacrum of his throat, helpless in the way he cannot move. “don’t you dare touch them. don’t you dare.” ( his heart beats a little faster at the mere mention of younger siblings. all those years spent chastising, picking at them, far too overprotective and never as kind as he should’ve been : symptomatic of a love that doesn’t know vernacular confines, that only knows the kind of rage that builds an inferno behind gritted teeth when they’re referenced like that. ) clever wizard that he is, PERCY can only kick out ; nearly loses his balance, almost topples his little prison over. it’s an adrenaline rush he needs / the kickstart he needs to spit another falsehood like a loose, bloodied tooth.

“i told you, i don’t know what you want.” and to some extent, he doesn’t : captor keeps mentioning information that he doesn’t understand. “nobody told me anything.” feigned reticence suits him ; percy makes a wonderful liar, all bruises and swollen despite the way lies make his stomach twist into sailor’s knots. 

there’s a roll of dark irses, a testament to patience lost during her time in azkaban. “you’re right, how can you be so sure you don’t know without us even asking?” cadence borders something sing-songy, something sweet enough to rot. long strides bring her around his chair, where hands push down on the back, balancing what he had almost thrown askew. the legs are strident when they return to hardwood floor. percy’s boxed in by them both, now, and though wands aren’t drawn, they don’t need to be to prove a point. “it’s easy, percy. where is harry potter? his body, his things...” ALECTO paints an almost innocent picture with wide eyes and relaxed posture as she lingers over his shoulder. “and a little tip --- we don’t take too well to being lied to. my ideal day may not be spending time with the most boring, self righteous weasley, but like amycus said, we can just as easily go to one of the other, hm, is it six of you now?” 

and the thing is, every fivre of an aching being is straining against this ! the hard line of a jaw is stiff with muscle, and yet it happens anyway : in light of alecto carrow lingering over his shoulder, circling like a vulture, PERCY laughs. it’s entirely humourless, dry and barked into atmosphere so tense you could carve it, but it happens. ( for what it’s worth he regrets it immediately / urge to be violently sick follows it, but he’s able to swallow that one down. )

“you think they told me where his body was? jesus fucking christ,” ( muggle london has fouled up that mouth --- ) “you can’t possible think they told me that.” hysteria is a slow bloom that’s spreading through blood and bone alike, deadly in the way it seems determined to swallow him whole. “every bit as fucking daft as she is, you two, thinking they told me anything. fuck.”

percy knows the price, knows it intimately before he’s even spoken. you don’t leave something like this unscathed, something like this without the battle scars to prove it. he knows, deep in marrow, that he isn’t leaving this alive. shaking, terrified, quaking with nothing but sheer fury, he steels himself for the bloe before it even arrives. this is what happens when you lie, when you laugh. this is what happens, and so it goes. 

the carrow twins move deliberately. they move as one. where one pushes the other pulls ( like opposing magnets, still connected in some indescribable way ), always compensating for the other on little more than blood instinct. alecto crosses to steady percy and amycus - in what is almost bored glory - rises, only then, to his full height. she leans left, he takes a step right. she focuses upon their charge, AMYCUS allows his attention to float. he undoes the buttons of his sleeves, both rolled up slowly to expose arms that are mottled by stark white scars & marred by one recognisable tattoo.

"percy, percy, percy," he clucked his tongue, caught between chilling disapproval & aching disappointment. there's a reason that he keeps using his name, as if they're old friends caught in something neither can control : a power to claiming it, an added threat. "we already know of the boys connection to your blood traitorous family. all those summers spent under the same roof, one more child for your overworked mother to wrangle... of course you know where he is. your family loved him."

"i'm sorry, percy. i know you'll tell us what we want to hear-" he sighs. gaze flickers towards his sister, an almost imperceptible jut of his chin given to urge her to stand away from the seated boy, and from his back pocket is pulled a wand that is, even without brandishing, a threat. "but we did tell you not to lie." the striking of a snake : predator meet prey.

with the reverent uttering of "crucio," amycus' wand slashes downwards.

[jaybear1701]

Chain Link Pt. 2

Summary: Scylla very reluctantly agrees to a plan to kill two birds with one stone: defeat the Camarilla while getting back on Raelle’s good side. Maybe. Also on AO3.

The sun was breaking over the horizon by the time Scylla made it back to Prosperity Road, hitching rides from civilians persuaded by a little bit of Work. She could picture Anacostia’s stern eye of disapproval, if she ever found out about Scylla’s extracurricular activities. But necessity knew no law, and the sooner she got back to the safe house, the better. There, she could at least take a shower and get a modicum of rest. Or at least she hoped. 

After everything Scylla had seen in the last 24 hours, she had no doubt that the massacre would besiege her dreams the minute she fell asleep. Even now, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of her brother and sister witches with their vocal cord viciously ripped from their throats, their bodies perversely arranged in a mock pentagram. She clung to the anger that seared in her gut, a longstanding companion that perversely comforted her, in some ways.  

It kept her focused on the mission, and not other… distractions.

Distractions with blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

There were more important things, Scylla told herself. Like eliminating their enemies. And maybe, finally securing the freedom she and countless others had already sacrificed their souls for.

Red-eyed and exhausted, she stepped off a bus a block away from Willa Collar’s home base tucked away in a sleepy residential sidestreet bathed in morning light. Her burnt attire drew a few curious stares from the neighbors. But for the most part they minded their own business, too engrossed in their routines and absent-minded goodbyes. 

Scylla proceeded down the concrete sidewalk, past a wrought-iron fence, and up the path toward the unassuming bungalow with bright yellow siding. Swiping a finger along the front door’s knob, she drew a complicated sigil to unlock it and step inside. To her great relief, no one was in the living room. A debrief was the last thing she needed right now. 

But as soon as she grasped the banister of the staircase, a resident appeared at the top of the steps--the same young woman who had been guarding the safe house when Scylla first arrived months ago.

“She wants to see you,” Cassidy said, bleary-eyed, long brown hair tangled from sleep.

Scylla let out a frustrated sigh. “What, now?” 

Cassidy merely shrugged, like, tough shit. 

Closing her eyes briefly, she cursed under her breath, knowing she shouldn’t shoot the messenger, no matter how tempting. “Where is she then?”  

“Out back.” Yawning, Cassidy was already turning around to go back to her room. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

Scylla toyed with ignoring the order all together and going up anyway. But it was best to just get it over with. She made her way through the house and out the back entrance, past a small garden and a hammock, toward a studio that Willa would disappear inside, sometimes for hours at a time. 

She rapped her knuckles against the door, waiting until she heard, “Enter,” before pushing it open. Inside, Willa stood by a makeshift war table strewn with maps, books, and scrolls. She faced a wall covered in mirrors of all shapes and sizes, a few reflecting the silhouettes of other cell leaders. Scylla propped herself against a wall, hands tucked into her pockets, not wanting to call attention to herself.

“This atrocity cannot go unanswered,” one of them said, its deep voice distorted. “We must retaliate.”

A part of Scylla strongly agreed, with the slaughter still so fresh in her mind. Blood for blood. But she remained silent as she regarded Willa. 

“Our truce with Alder is… tenuous… at best,” Willa said in her southern drawl, arms crossed and head held high. “We must not jeopardize it with an attack on civilians.”

“Your truce,” a different Spree chimed in from an oval mirror. “Not ours.”

Willa’s jaw clenched. “It’d be beneficial for us all to avoid a two-front war with the Camarilla and the military. Our time for revenge will come, but not at the expense of our path to freedom.”

The glassy shadows shimmered in their frames, but none contradicted her. “We shall not be denied vengeance for long,” another said before they disappeared entirely, leaving Willa and Scylla alone. 

Turning and eyeing Scylla’s disheveled appearance, Willa waved her to one of the empty chairs around the table. “Took you long enough.”

“Why, I’m just peachy, thanks for asking,” Scylla said  as she sat down.

Willa looked far from amused. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

“I was careful.” Scylla smiled wryly. “I’d be dead otherwise. Not that any of you thought to check.”

“You know very well we couldn’t stay.” Willa leaned a hip against the table. “And the Camarilla?”

“Experimenting.” Scylla could still feel the distortion around the site, the resonance of death corrupted by whatever bastardized Seeds the humans had concocted. “Turning our bombs against us.” 

“Our intelligence indicates Fort Salem is researching a new weapon, as well.” 

“Good for them.”

“Involving my daughter.”

Scylla used whatever energy she had left to keep herself from reacting. Raelle was still very much a sore spot for them both, no matter how much Scylla tried to put Raelle behind her. It was a constant source of heartache that had flared up like a livewire when she saw Raelle again up close and felt her touch, however fleeting.

“I see.” Hesitating, she took a deep breath and added against her better judgment: “She was there. Yesterday.” 

Willa lowered herself into her own seat, brow wrinkling before it smoothed out in a neutral expression. “How was she?”

Beautiful, Scylla thought. Fierce. Still so full of good and light, despite everything. “As well as can be expected,” Scylla said.   

“Did she say anything?”

“She didn’t say anything at all.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. 

Willa said nothing as she absently shuffled papers on the table, poorly hiding that Raelle’s rejection was still an open wound for her as it was for Scylla. “We need to bring that girl ‘round.”

Scylla shook her head. “How? She wants nothing to do with us.” And with good reason, her mind whispered.

“Go to her.”

A humorless laugh escaped from Scylla. “What, am I supposed to just waltz back into Fort Salem and convince her?”

“Yes,” Willa said simply.

Scylla stared at Willa for several long, unbelieving moments. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack.” Willa held out her palm and whispered a few words until a piece of parchment appeared. “As part of our new Accord with Alder, we’ll teach them some of our Work.”

She placed the document on the table and slid it toward Scylla, who could barely read its text through the crimson haze that filled her vision. But she definitely could see the glow of Willa’s signature as well as Alder’s. Incensed, Scylla snatched it up and tore it in half, throwing it back at Willa.

“Have you lost your mind?” Heat skyrocketed in her chest, faster than mercury on a scorching day. “They killed my parents and Goddess knows how many others. Nearly killed you.” And Raelle. “Why would we give them our Work?” 

Willa only regarded her with the same, infuriatingly calm expression she always wore. “Are you finished?” The two pieces fused back into one, as if Scylla’s tantrum had never happened. “In exchange, the Army will stop hunting Dodgers. Pardon our cell. They’ll even let you finish your training.”

It sounded too good to be true. Because it probably was. “Don’t you think this is something I should have known about before you signed a deal with the devil?”  

“You know about it now.”

“Unbelievable.” Scylla shoved herself away from the table and stood. “You’ve already burned me with the military. And with Raelle.” Her nostrils flared as she stared Willa down, heart racing, breath harsh. “What makes you think I’d let you do that to me again?” 

“I’m doing what I think is best.”

“And that’s worked out so well for you, right?” Scylla spun around to leave, knowing full well she’d do something she’d regret if she stayed any longer. Made it halfway to the door when she felt Willa grasp her wrist in a tight grip. She was half a second away from throwing wind, burning one last bridge that would forever strand her into an existence of hiding.

But she stopped short when she saw the flash of pain in Willa’s blue eyes. “Please.” Willa’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I need my daughter back.” She scanned Scylla’s face, searching for something Scylla wasn’t even sure she could give. “You do too.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Scylla spat back, snapping her hand away. She almost believed the lie. 

Willa’s arms fell to her sides. “Then think about the good that’s still left to do. That we could all do. Together. As a family.” 

Her gaze was as piercing as Raelle’s, blinding like the sky on a cloudless day. 

Scylla, eyes stinging, had to look away. 

***

Holding onto the good wasn’t easy when the best part of you was gone.

The crowd inside the train station bustled around the double-sided bench where Scylla sat. The din of conversations and rolling luggage echoed inside the cavernous atrium and its arched glass ceilings. People came and went, with no clue about the war being waged; sheeple unaware of the bloodthirsty wolves in their flock. A small part of Scylla pitied them for their blissful ignorance and mundane lives. But that was eclipsed by a sadness so intense it left Scylla breathless. Because she would never have what they had. 

She clenched her fists in her lap, allowing herself a fleeting moment to daydream about what it would be like to leave all the death and destruction behind. Just blend into the crowd and disappear. She could do it and be free, for a while, before being hunted down by the Army or the Spree or the Camarilla. Go out in a foolish blaze of glory. Scylla chuckled to herself. That plan was hot garbage and she knew it. What was it she had said to Raelle their first night together? It’d be winning by losing. It felt like so many years ago.

Scylla was so lost in her dark thoughts that she didn’t even notice when someone sat behind her on the opposite side of the bench. A voice, gruff and familiar, interrupted Scylla’s downward spiral.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” Anacostia Quartermaine said, as if she was mundanely reciting the weather forecast printed in the newspaper she unfolded.

Anacostia always seemed to show up when Scylla least expected it. At first, it was unsettling, despite their pact to work together and keep each other’s secrets. Sometimes she wondered if Anacostia somehow placed a tracker on her. But over the past few weeks, Scylla found the surprise appearances to be comforting. Anacostia, whether she intended it or not, often popped up when Scylla needed her most. 

“Depends on what you think I’m doing,” Scylla said.

“Running.” Anacostia opened the paper. It crinkled as she spread it out wide between both hands.

Anacostia also had an uncanny ability to read Scylla’s moods, not that she would give Anacostia the pleasure of her admitting it outloud.

“Strange,” Scylla deflected, looking down at her lap in surprise, “Pretty sure I’m sitting.” She didn’t have to see Anacostia to know she was rolling her eyes.

“Don’t bullshit me, Ramshorn.” Anacostia turned a page. “I need to know if you’re still in.”

The way over is under. The way out is in.

“I gave you my word,” Scylla said.

“The word of a Dodger.”

Scylla turned her head slightly. “The word of someone who hates our enemies as much as you.” She could just make out the side of Anacostia’s stern profile. “I won’t stop until the Camarilla pay for what they’ve done.” She wouldn’t stop until she avenged Raelle.

“Good.” Anacostia stood abruptly, re-folding the paper back up and leaving it on her seat. “Interesting article about the Cession. Might be of interest.”

With that, Anacostia disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Scylla mildly bewildered. She waited a few beats before she got up to leave, walking to the other side of the bench to pick up the discarded periodical. She flipped through it, scanning the black-and-white type until she found a page with a headline about the Cession. A lone sigil adroned a corner.

She traced it with her pinky, gasping as her mind flashed to… Fort Salem. Or, more specifically, its infirmary. From Anacostia’s perspective, she moved through the medical ward, nodding to Colonel Wick, toward two beds near the back. In one was High and Mighty herself, Abigail Bellweather, scowling at the Fixers surrounding her. Scylla sucked in a sharp breath. Sitting upright in another was the one person Scylla thought she’d lost forever, a sheepish grin on her tired, but beautiful face. 

Scylla’s heart stopped and she dropped the paper. She stared at it on the ground, cheeks wet as she let out a laugh that came out as a garbled sob. 

Raelle was alive.

***

This would all end badly.

Icy tendrils of dread spread through Scylla as Willa drove a beat-up blue minivan through Fort Salem’s back roads, bringing them closer and closer to what she was sure was potential doom. The military base’s grounds were kept as meticulously pristine as ever. Grass neatly cut. Trees pruned. Flowers tended. A beautiful disguise that concealed a dark underbelly of slavery, oppression, and death. Scylla despised it.

“And you’re sure they won’t arrest us on the spot?” Cassidy asked from the back seat, knee fidgeting. The tension in the cabin was heavy among the five women in the van. Scylla kept her gaze firmly trained outside the passenger-side window, not wanting to spark yet another argument with Willa, especially in front of the others. She could just make out the outline of her old barracks in the distance.

Willa glanced at Cassidy through the rear-view mirror. “We’ve been over this, girl.” She pulled the steering wheel to the right, turning the van down a road that would take them to the officers’ quarters. “There are consequences for breaking an Accord. Even for someone like Alder.”

They fell silent once again, each of them lost in their own anxieties. After a short eternity, they pulled up to the side entrance of a multi-story brick building where a number of officers waited at ease, hands interlocked behind their backs: Alder and her Biddies, Petra Bellweather, Nessa Clary, and Anacostia.

No one moved a muscle when Willa finally parked and turned off the van, the old engine ticking faintly. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Scylla broke the silence. 

Willa pulled the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go, ladies,” Willa said, as if she hadn’t heard Scylla at all. 

Shaking her head, Scylla stepped outside and was immediately hit with the energy that permeated throughout the fort. She had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by the power of a Witch’s Place. It thrummed deep inside her bones; one of the few good things about Fort Salem that Scylla hadn’t even realized she missed. She knew the others felt it too, judging by the way their mouths fell open in awe.

Taking the lead, Willa approached Alder, who stood tall and imposing, full arrogance on display, as always. 

 “Generals.” Willa nodded once at Alder, Clary, and Bellweather, who tracked Willa’s every move. 

Alder inclined her head forward slightly. “Specialist.” Neither woman moved to shake the other’s hands. 

“With all due respect, General, I’m no soldier,” Willa said. “Collar’s just fine. Or, Willa, if you prefer.”

The Biddies chittered in displeasure, tongues clicking in a way that sent a shiver down Scylla’s spine. 

“Once a soldier, always a soldier, Specialist,” Alder spat out, blue eyes hard as she circled the other women, not bothering to hide her judgment as she wordlessly dressed them down. “That goes for all of you.” She paused in front of Scylla, who stared straight back at Alder. Scylla refused to cower before her, even as sensory memory brought back the searing pain she once endured at Alder’s hands. 

Alder returned to her original position in front of Willa, who wore a serene smile on her face despite Alder’s clear disrespect. “While you are our… guests… I expect you to conduct yourself in a manner befitting a soldier.”

A sarcastic remark threatened to fly out of Scylla’s mouth, but she managed to hold back thanks to the look Anacostia threw her way. Don’t, her subtle eyebrow twitch warned. Squeezing her tongue between her teeth, Scylla bit back the retort that would no doubt have gotten her liquefied. It wasn’t worth it.

“Sergeant Quartermaine will escort you to your assignments,” Alder continued. “Except you, Specialist. The generals and I have much to discuss with you.”

“Understood.” Willa turned to look at her team, attempting to project an aura of calm that failed to stop the panic that spiked in Scylla’s chest, before she trailed behind Alder, Bellweather, and Clary. No matter how angry she was at Willa, and despite their complicated history, a part of Scylla still worried about her safety. If not for herself, then for Raelle.

“Ramshorn, Freeman, Jackson, Beatrix ” Anacostia barked out suddenly. “Follow me.”

“H-How do you know our names?” Cassidy asked, unnerved.

“We know everything, Freeman,” Anacostia said. “And see everything. Best keep that in mind at all times.” She executed a sharp about-face, not even bothering to check that they were following.

Scylla couldn’t stop herself. “And yet, against all odds, the Spree still managed to infiltrate the base,” she said as she caught up to the retreating sergeant. 

Anacostia threw daggers at Scylla with her eyes. “And the reason you’re here is to ensure that never happens again. Otherwise, there’d be a prison cell just waiting to welcome you back, Ramshorn.”

Scylla only smirked back as they entered the barracks, following Anacostia through empty hallways and into an unoccupied locker room. 

“You’ll need to get changed.” Anacostia pointed to four open lockers. Fresh uniforms hung inside.

“Didn’t you hear Willa?” Scylla eyed the military garb with disdain. “We’re not soldiers.”

“No,” Anacostia conceded. “But while you’re here, you have to be as discreet as possible. Hide in plain sight. Isn’t that what the Spree do best?” She at least had the decency to give them some privacy, leaving to stand guard at the door.

Cassidy let out a sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Despite tremors in her hands, Scylla managed to dress quickly and efficiently, removing her clothes, slipping on a black t-shirt, tucking it into a pair of black trousers, and fastening her belt. After lacing up her boots and zipping up the gray uniform jacket, Scylla paused, catching her reflection in a nearby mirror. It was surreal, to say the least; a myriad of what-ifs swirling in Scylla’s mind, heady and potent.

It didn’t take long for the others to finish and, before long, they were once again out in the hall, transformed into fresh-faced cadets ready to throw their lives away. Anacostia was no longer alone. Three other officers had joined her side.

“Ramshorn, you’re with me,” Anacostia said.

“Wait.” Cassidy grabbed Scylla’s hand, panic evident in her shaky voice. “You’re separating us?”

“From this point forward, you four don’t know each other,” Anacostia explained, almost kindly. “It’s safer that way.”

Squeezing Cassidy’s hand, Scylla gave her what she hoped was a comforting smile, even as fear gripped at her own chest. She silently followed Anacostia, trepidation growing with each step. They left the building and began crossing across the grounds. The sun was too bright, the air too hot, the flora too sweet. A wave of nausea swept through Scylla as her eyes watered, blurring her vision. 

“It’ll be okay,” Anacostia said once they were alone, her voice low.

“I thought we both agreed not to lie to each other,” Scylla said with a sad smile, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks. “But, thank you.”

Walking side-by-side, they passed cadets, enlisted soldiers, and officers. No one paid them any mind. For all they knew, Scylla was just another private on a walk with her drill sergeant.

Anacostia gave her a sidelong glance. “Only a handful of people know about what happened to you. They’ve taken a vow of silence, as have those who’ll work with you.”

“All of them?”

Anacostia nodded.

Scylla let that revelation, and its implications, sink in. “And the rest?”

“The Necros were told you’ve been on an extended furlough.” Anacostia led them toward the War College campus. “A dispensation for personal issues is more common than you might think.” 

So the cover was set. It gave Scylla some peace of mind, but not much as she broached the next question. “And who am I training?”

“One or two of our top units, under my supervision and another officer.” They entered the building that included the War College rough room. They bypassed the main training hall, and proceeded toward a smaller training room. It was a basic room, with a few black mats laid out on the vinyl floor. Anacostia whispered a few words that turned its few windows opaque. 

“They’ll be here soon,” Anacostia said, a strange expression passing along her features. If Scylla didn’t know any better, she would have called it pity.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Scylla asked, every instinct telling her to run as far as she possibly could. But there was no turning back now. The door opened behind her, bootsteps shuffling inside.

And Scylla felt her before she even saw her. 

“Welcome, ladies,” Anacostia greeted, pointedly ignoring Scylla’s death glare. 

Time seemed to stop. As if moving in slow motion, Scylla turned and watched as three units filed into the room with Izadora at the head, all eyes watching her with a mixture of curiosity, disdain, and suspicion. 

But all Scylla could see was Raelle. 

Whose lips parted in surprise, blue eyes widening in shock that mirrored Scylla’s own. 

Heart firmly pulsing in her throat, Scylla knew this wasn’t just going to end badly. It would be a complete disaster. 

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

The Angel’s Share - Ch. 8

Chapter: 8 of ? (Find Chapter 7 here)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Kate faces more than one fear on their journey to the distillery.

Permanent taglist for hopeless: @vodka-and-some-sass @just-the-hiddles @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @nonsensicalobsessions @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25

Taglist for Angel’s Share: @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare @wolfsmom1 @tamstrugglestowrite @trickstersteve @lucantis @exygon​

A/N: If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this series, or the permanent taglist for either authors, let us know! :)

Co-written with the invariably incredible @yespolkadotkitty​!!

"There's a girl. Come on, darling. Work with me. That's it. There, now."

Thomas soothed Firefly, the abused horse Lucille had saved from the slaughterhouse last month. For all her regal airs, his sister had a soft heart, and he'd been unsurprised to learn about the new acquisition.

Firefly would make a good companion for his own mount, Bandit, when she relaxed enough to be allowed near him. Perhaps they'd even get a foal out of the introduction, he thought, whimsically.

Firefly eventually nuzzled into his hand and Thomas shook a few apple slices free from his jacket sleeve as a reward. His heart soared as it always did when she showed a tiny further modicum of trust.

“Uncle Thooommmmaaassss!” Gideon’s shout announced the arrival of the overexcited boy. It always pleased Thomas that Gid was so sweet and unaffected given the nature of the collapse of his mother and father’s relationship. The boy was a treasure.

To her credit, Firefly didn’t shy away as she had in the past, proof that she was slowly becoming used to people and her new home.

Gideon skidded to a stop six feet from Firefly. When Thomas looked up he saw Kate following, and his heart lurched at the sight of her. Her denim cut off shorts revealed shapely, lightly tanned legs. The sassy sweatshirt suited her to a T. She was a world away from the vapid socialites he had once dated, and he was glad of it.

The morning sun, already strong, kissed the waves of her tousled hair, picking out the golden strands. Her lips curved and he felt himself smile in return.

“Morning, GQ.”

“Morning.” He knew his gaze lingered on her mouth, and he let it. There was something simmering between them. He knew she’d felt it last night in the moonlit confines of that small room, the scent of whiskey floating in the air between them, the space between their bodies littered with unsaid words. “You’re up early.”

“Wanted to get a jump on the day. You know. You ready, then?” she asked, a clear challenge in her voice.

Bring it on, Thomas thought. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, but she smiled broadly. “Sure, when I was a kid, at fairs. Why?" She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her denim cut offs, cocking a hip. Thomas knew that stance. It portrayed false confidence. He knew it well because he'd used it himself many times as a callow young man.

'Well," he said, keeping his tone casual, "the distillery is a little way off. We could ride there. You're welcome to share my horse."

"Missus Kate can have her own horse, right?" Gideon piped up.

Thomas watched the indecision parade across Kate's face.

'I shall choose a gentle mare for you," Thomas promised sincerely. "We'll ride at the same pace."

"Okay. Sure. Why not," she replied, and he could hear the false bravado in her tone.

Well, it was a short ride, truly, he reasoned. And he could make sure to hold the reins of Sugarplum, the older mare, with his free hand.

"Go on back to your Mum," Thomas instructed Gideon, to a drawn out moan and an eye roll. "We'll have treats later."

That perked him up.

Kate watched him go. "Treats?"

'Most Saturdays we have cake."

"Served by the butler, no doubt."

Thomas led Firefly back into her wide, clean stall. "You have seen Allerdale," he said calmly. 'We have no glut of servants, that is clear. The house is going to ruin and I am pouring every penny I make into it, and the stables. For now we mainly have the appearance of wealth rather than the actuality. Do you hate what I represent so much?"

Her face fell. "Thomas, I…."

*****

She watched his brows tilt up hopefully, even against the sadness that pulled at the corners of his lips.

“Appearances can be deceptive, yes?” he asked, in that voice made for sin.

He kept bringing that up, as if repeating it again and again would settle it in her mind that while he looked like a proper cad, dressed to the nines in his manor and living off of a reputation and family money, that he was somehow more. More like her? She had to admit that he had surprised her, revealing a penchant for hard work and humor in turn that spoke more of his character than any tailored suit could, but it still wasn’t enough.

He was dangerous. Too charming and too breathtaking when he stepped closer to her and brushed her braid over her shoulder with too much familiarity. Each easy smile and show of tender concern he sent her way was chipping away at her will, and no matter how hard she scrambled, she couldn’t right her defenses fast enough.

She couldn’t go down that road again. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to make that journey a second time unscathed.

Clearing her throat, she took a few steps away from him, plastering a thin smile on her face as she glanced around the stables. “So, which horse is mine for the day? Let’s get this show on the road, cowboy.”

He moved about behind her, and the rustle of hay on the concrete floor followed by the clop clop of hooves made her turn around to see Thomas leading a beautiful black mare, already saddled, in her direction. She steeled herself against the trepidation that raced through her veins.

“This is Sugarplum. She’s gentle, sweet, and should be an easy ride for you. If you think you can handle it.”

Determined not to show her anxiety, especially in the wake of his teasing, she stepped up to the mare, smoothing her hand down the majestic horse’s neck slowly. She was so soft, unbelievably so, and she felt both Thomas and Sugarplum watching her as if they were physical weights as she petted her. “She’s beautiful.”

Thomas stood behind her, his chest barely brushing her shoulder as he stroked the peaceful mare as well. “She is. Do you need a lift up?”

“No, I think I can manage,” she replied, with more bravado than she felt. “Just hold her steady?”

“As you wish.” He stepped around her, standing in front of Sugarplum, cooing softly to her and feeding her the occasional carrot from the pocket of his ancient Barbour.

Shoving her boot into the stirrup, Kate gripped a hand on the horn of the saddle and the other over the curve of the back, grunting as she swung her leg up and over. It wasn’t as graceful as she would’ve liked, at one point her face was firmly shoved into the wool blanket used as a saddle pad, but with only a bit of adjusting she was upright.

And it was high.

Thomas looked up at her with one brow quirked. “All set there, Carrie Bradshaw?”

She rolled her eyes at the Sex and the City reference despite the fear that crept down her throat and fluttered in her stomach at the slight shift of the horse beneath her. “I’m fine. Go get your horse so we can get the day started. We’re burning daylight.”

She couldn’t make out whatever he grumbled under his breath as he walked away, but it didn’t matter. She needed to focus on not falling off and spilling her brains onto the Sharpe estate. It would likely be the first and last bit of intelligence shown on the grounds for some time.

Adjusting her seat in the saddle, she clenched her thighs tightly into the supple leather and grasped the reins that he had thrown over the horse’s head. The stables were dusty, debris from hay kicked up into the air with the light breeze that blew through the open doors. A powerful sneeze wracked her body from nowhere, and made her jerk on the reins.

Sugarplum was off, racing through the stables at a full gallop. Thomas’ shout was lost to the wind, and all she could do was lean forward, close her eyes, and hold onto the horn of the saddle, shouting her terror at the top of her lungs.

It felt like forever before the horse slowed, snorting and panting heavily. Kate cracked open her eyes, her entire body still clenched tight as she looked around at where the horse had decided to stop. The grassy copse of trees was almost picturesque with wildflowers scattered around the grass. Tall trees, heavy with leaves, provided shade against the sun that could only filter through in shifting shadows that rustled pleasantly in her ears.

“Kate!”

Thomas galloped up behind her, raven hair flying behind him and face set in focused distress. He dismounted while his white stallion was still slowing to a stop, rushing over to where Kate was still clinging onto Sugarplum like a lifeline.

“Let’s get you down from there for a moment,” he beckoned her, coming to her side with his arms outstretched.

She took the assistance without any protest, all but falling off of the mare as she dismounted, his hands strong and steady on her hips. He left them there once she was safely on the ground, and she hooked her arms around him, her hands clutching onto the white fabric of his button-down shirt desperately. Her head fell into the crook of his neck, and she breathed him in deeply, citrus and bergamot that wrapped around her and set her mind at ease.

“You’re alright, Kate. I’ve got you, darling," he soothed, one hand winding around to press into the middle of her back, the other winding into her wind-tousled hair, holding her to him firmly.

Which was a good thing, because her legs still trembled.

“It’s interesting that Sugarplum ran here, of all places. I came here often when I was younger, seeking to escape the oppressive wrath of my father. It was a safe haven of sorts to me. In the fall, the leaves turn so beautifully, reds and golds an enchanting backdrop to the books I would often bring along with me. When I was particularly daring, or father was in one of his moods, I would come here at night. It takes on an ethereal quality in the moonlight that I would love to show you, oh, Kate…”

Her heartbeat was just now beginning to feel like it wasn’t going to explode from her chest, gentled by his pleasant voice calmly giving up a piece of his childhood for her to store within her soul. The drum of his heart beneath her ear provided a soothing rhythm. She tilted her face up to him, trying to catch his expression from her position so close to him.

He was beautiful, expression soft and tender as he gazed down at her. The sunlight, warm and forgiving when filtered through the lush foliage of the trees above them, played off of his azure eyes, making them appear deeper than the sea. The faintest flush had blossomed on his fair skin, blooming over what bit of his chest she could see flirting with the shirt edges as his breath quickened beneath her quiet inspection.

If you had asked her after the fact, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you if he tilted his head down or if she stood on her tiptoes first. All she knew was that his lips were on hers in the next breath.

And the sparks that they had shared, the meaningful glances and the stolen touches, all came to a head.

His lips were soft over hers, gentle and smooth even as they lit a fire that rolled and stretched within her, warming her from the inside out. He tasted of coffee and sugar, a bittersweet and heady combination that stole all the air from her lungs. She melted beneath his touch, her hands splaying across his back, delighting in the stretch of his muscles barely contained beneath the layers of thin linen shirt and light Barbour.

And when he broke the kiss, only to rest his forehead against hers, she felt a tiny piece of her heart break off with the lost contact, left on his parted lips. Her eyes fluttered open to take him in, and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

She pulled away from him, already missing his solid warmth, shaking her head minutely with a knit brow. “Thomas…”

[melodiouswhite]

Classic literature vine compilation - others, pt. 02

Victor Frankenstein: I'm not going to conversate with you. I'm not going to invest time-

Frankenstein's Creature: I think it's "converse".

Victor: Huh?

Creature: Just say "talk".

---

Victor Frankenstein: Everytime I go out there, I feel I do my best, but they don't!

Dr. Henry Jekyll: Let me ask you a very fair question: What do you do successfully?

Dr. Jekyll: Quickly.

Victor: …

---

Dr. Faust: Boys, what do you want to eat?

Edward Hyde: ThE SoUlS oF tHe InNoCeNt.

Frankenstein's Creature: A bagel.

Hyde: NO!!!

Creature: Two bagels.

---

Victor Frankenstein: Dr. Jekyll, are you talking to yourself?

Dr. Henry Jekyll: *sighs* Yes, it's the only way I can have an intelligent conversation.

Victor: … :(

---

Dr. Henry Jekyll: You overrated twink!

Victor Frankenstein: I'm not a twink! I'm a twunk!

Dr. Faust: *off-screen* OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, DID YOU HEAR THAT?! THE SQUIRT THINKS HE'S A TWUNK!!!

*laughter in the background*

Dr. Jekyll: *grins* You were saying?

Victor: … I hate you all.

---

Victor Frankenstein: I did a bad thing.

Dr. Faust: Does it affect me in any way?

Victor: … No?

Dr. Faust: ThEn SuFfEr In SiLeNcE.

---

*Victor Frankenstein, Edward Hyde and Dr. Faust, in prison for alleged male prostitution.*

Victor: Nicolas! Thank God, you're here!

Nicolas Flamel: Arrested for male prostitution, I can't believe it!

Dr. Faust: Nicolas, we're innocent!

Nicolas Flamel: I know that, I can't believe those dumb Bobbies would think anyone would pay money to sleep with you!

Hyde: Oh, actually-

Victor & Dr. Faust: *cover his mouth* Shhhh!

---

Dr. Faust in 1541: So I succeeded in making myself immortal, but I can't let anyone know, because they're already hunting me down like a heretic, so I'll blow up a hotel and fake my death.

People, after finding a grievously mutilated flesh Dummie, following the explosion: Oh, the Devil finally collected him!

Dr. Faust, from a hidden spot: … Well, it worked. -_-

---

Dr. Faust, after watching Goethe's play about him: Wtf did I just watch?! This is so wildly inaccurate, I can't even-

---

Dr. Faust: I'll have you know, that I'm a sweet treat!

Nicolas & Perenelle Flamel: …

Dr. Faust: I'm a fucking delight to be around, okay?!

---

Dr. Faust: He, Victor!

Victor Frankenstein: Yeah?

Dr. Faust: Just a teeny question!

Victor: Sure, what is it?

Dr. Faust: I need an assistant. Someone who's intelligent, has a modicum of pragmatism and ISN'T Nicolas.

Victor: *excited* Oh, I'd be happy to-

Dr. Faust: Can I have that homunculus of yours?

Victor: *crestfallen* Oh … sure.

Dr. Faust: YES!!!

---

Frankenstein's Creature: *tells Dr. Faust his story*

Dr. Faust: *inhales slowly*

Dr. Faust, to Victor Frankenstein: Victor … you're one piece of shit.

Victor: Wut.

---

Dr. Faust, to Dr. Henry Jekyll: So you actually finished school and have several doctorates and other degrees in many different fields?

Dr. Jekyll: Yes?

Dr. Faust: You're a rigorous note-taker?

Dr. Jekyll: Yes.

Dr. Faust: And you don't shy away from risks to self to obtain greater knowledge?

Dr. Jekyll: No!

Dr. Faust, to Victor Frankenstein: You're dead to me, kid. Dr. Jekyll is my new scientific partner.

Victor: D:<

Dr. Jekyll: … *overwhelmed* Thank you.

---

Dr. Faust: Bro!

Frankenstein's Creature: *waving a handless arm* Yo!

Dr. Faust: What the fuck?

Frankenstein's Creature: Oh, I didn't tell you, I lost a hand!

Dr. Faust: What do you mean, you just lost a hand?!

---

Victor Frankenstein: Hey, Johann!

Dr. Faust: Hm?

Victor: You seem to be very fascinated in my creature-

Dr. Faust: Well, duh! He's an artificially created human, of course I'm fascinated! Every alchemist would be thrilled to have a real homunculus around!

Victor: But since you like mine so much … why did you never make one yourself?

Dr. Faust: *considers* ... Well, I have thought about it, but the only valid reason for me to make one would be the wish to have a companion, or a friend.

Victor: But you have friends.

Dr. Faust: Exactly. Besides *glares at Victor* Why would I create an artificial life, when I can just adopt a child?

Victor: … You're still sour about what he told you, aren't you?

Dr. Faust: Yes, actually. What exactly did you expect someone composed of rotting flesh, body parts and even muscles taken from different people to look like?!

---

Dr. Faust: *reads his way through Dr. Henry Jekyll's notes* Hmm … interesting. Not bad, I'm impressed.

Dr. Jekyll: *excited* Really?!

Dr. Faust: Really. Your notes are very detailed and make it easy for me to understand what exactly you do. You got a some things wrong about human nature, though.

Dr. Jekyll: *awkwardly* I know … those old notes embarrass me, actually.

Dr. Faust: Well, you know how the saying goes: errare humanum est. And taking notes helps to self-reflect. Besides *grins* you're only fifty years old and you're not Luise either.

Dr. Jekyll: …

Dr. Faust: … I did it again, didn't I?

Dr. Jekyll: Did what?

Dr. Faust: Be condescending. Sorry, I didn't mean to. It just happens sometimes.

Dr. Jekyll: It's fine. ^^

---

Dr. Faust: Okay, so I am Dr. Faust himself, but what about it? I'm not that great, Frankenstein should have realised that by now! So why is he always in my face?!

Perenelle Flamel: Victor? He loves you!

Dr. Faust: Wut.

Perenelle: *sighs* Jean … he has a crush on you.

Dr. Faust: Okay, wtf, wtf, wtf, hell to the no!

Perenelle: What's wrong-

Dr. Faust: Apart from the fact that I'm incapable of being in love? I don't like that kid at all! I've never even treated him well, what the heck!

Perenelle: Jean, calm down!

Dr. Faust: I do not like this! Hm. Looks like I have to be more of an arsehole to him to get rid of his puppy love-

Perenelle: *picks up a broom* I DON'T THINK SO!!!

---

Frankenstein's Creature: Verily I say unto thee: lay thine eyes upon the field in which my fucks are grown. And behold that it is barren. Mood 24/7.

---

Evil scientists: We did some scientific research with this girl-

Victor Frankenstein: You screwed up a perfectly good child, that's what you did! Look at her, she's crippled and traumatised for life!

10yo Luise: Q_Q

---

Dr. Faust: For the first time in my life, I feel over 200!

Nicolas Flamel: You know why that is, mon chér?

Dr. Faust: Why?

Nicolas: *deadpan* Because you're over 400.

---

Victor Frankenstein: Johann, can I borrow your golden-framed glasses, your gold watch and your golden chain?

Dr. Faust: *suspiciously* Are you planning to come back?

---

Dr. Faust, about Victor Frankenstein: Why did I agree to take that brat as my apprentice?

Perenelle Flamel: Because you two 'ad a one-night-stand.

Dr. Faust: …

The Flamels: …

Dr. Faust: *sighs* Why did I ever let that happen?

Nicolas Flamel: Because you two got drunk.

Dr. Faust: Why am I even discussing this with you two?!

The Flamels: *shrug* Beats the 'ell out of us.

---

Victor Frankenstein: I was never once robbed or murdered, when I lived with Elizabeth!

Dr. Faust: … Look, you could just as easily have been murdered, living with Elizabeth!

Frankenstein's Creature: I'm surprised he wasn't murdered BY Elizabeth!

Victor, the Flamels and Dr. Faust: …

---

Victor Frankenstein, to Nicolas Flamel and Dr. Faust: What do you think goes better with my waistcoat? The watch or the chain?

Dr. Faust: The watch.

Nicolas: *shakes his head* An amateur's mistake. Can't you see that the chain of the watch accentuates 'is emaciated posture?

Dr. Faust: Well, that may be, but the silver chain draws attention to his nonexistent shoulders!

Nicolas: Yes, but the watch leads the eye even lower - to that 'uge spare tire! Jutting out over those broad birthing 'ips!

Victor: *deadpan* Why don't I just wear a sign that says: "Too ugly to live"?

Nicolas: Fine. But what are you going to 'ang it from, the chain or the watch?

Victor: NEITHER, I'M GOING TO SPRAY-PAINT IT ON MY HUMP!

---

Victor Frankenstein, to the Flamels: Tell me, why do you have no children?

Nicolas & Perenelle Flamel: *burst into tears*

Dr. Faust: *death-glares at Victor*

Victor: Oh crap, I'm sorry!

---

Dr. Faust: Ooo, they make me so mad, I'm gonna fly to Antarctica and shoot a penguin! *runs off* They're so stupid, they're so stupid!

Victor Frankenstein: *silently contemplates wtf Johann was drinking earlier*

---

Victor Frankenstein: *first time drunk* Hey, betcha I can hit this note? Ü

Frankenstein's Creature: Nonono, please don't-

Victor: *shrieks badly*

Perenelle Flamel's wine glass: *shatters*

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Chapter 6

Previous Chapter 

Chapter Summary -  Paige deals with her manager regarding the situation and Benedict rings Tom for an explanation.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog@nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer   @standing-onthe-edge

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

“Oscar, I am so sorry. My phone was dead, I had not planned on the brunch.”

Paige started with her manager/publicist. She knew she would have several people to call, going by her messages at least. Oscar would be on damage control, that was paramount, Marks ‘eh, what did I just read?’ could wait.

“Paige, if I’m honest, I am not entirely sure what you are apologising for.” He stated jovially. “I mean, it is brunch with a man that is quite frankly, the male equivalent of you if what Luke is telling me is true, that is hardly something to apologise for.”Oscar dismissed. “Though, that is some manner in which to announce it.”

“There is nothing to announce. Tom asked me to assist him with preparing for his next part, because of Derek, so we had dinner and discussed it and that’s it.”

“So how does dinner become brunch with his mother and sister then? You were spotted going into the restaurant as one group.” Oscar asked.

“I…” there was very little Paige could reply to that without admitting her him she just slept with Tom the night before. “We’re not a couple.”

“Look, Paige, you know I don’t involve myself in your personal life so long as you don’t drag it around in public like dirty laundry, but you are not going to be able to play this down. I know that weasel Derek did a number on things with you so I know you don’t want people talking again but you chose the wrong guy if you want privacy, Hiddleston is big news, he has the fangirls and looking around online, I don’t think you are aware, but for the most part, you are very much being liked. I mean, there are the few that seem heartbroken, I won’t lie to you but for the most part, you are being adored. You are trending on social media. I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw an increase in the sales of your books solely because of this.”

Paige rolled her eyes. Of course, as her publicist and her manager, Oscar would see that side of things. To Paige, she could not see how they would happen, but she rarely bothered to challenge him on that. “Look, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Well, Luke and I were talking, he worked for me for a while at the beginning of his career, Luke, great guy. Good solid head on his shoulders. When I realised it was him managing Hiddleston, I knew it would be alright. Anyway, we were talking and he said that from their side, this is the best manner to deal with it, casual, being yourselves, simply relaxed.

“Honestly, Oscar, you are getting ahead of yourselves, there is nothing to this. Look, Tom and I both know Ben and Sophie Cumberbatch, we were at their house this week, got talking and he asked if I could help him with his play, nothing more.” The scoff from the older man told her he did not believe a word, so she sighed in defeat. She knew he wasn’t going to listen but it was not particularly important. Tom would continue with his life, she would continue with hers, and at best, they could possibly bump into each other in London some time or most likely, if either of them had the courage to go to Ben and Sophies’s anytime in the future, something she knew she was not feeling particularly confident about herself. While hoping to get Oscar to stop going on about Tom, she realised her phone was telling her of another call trying to get through. Looking at the screen all of a sudden, Oscar’s rambling seemed far more appealing. “Oscar, I’m afraid my Mum is trying to get through to me over and over, I better see if everything is okay.”

“Oh yes, very good. I will call you about the book deal tomorrow.”

“Book deal?” Paige scanned her mind for a moment, trying to recall what interview Oscar could be referring to.

“Yes, the meeting with the publishing company, on Thursday you know about this.”

Paige winced. She did know about it, she had simply forgotten and with only a mere two days to it, she most certainly could do without it. “Yes, sorry. Yes, I just need to talk to Mum now, Oscar, so I will speak to you then. Bye.” She hung up and immediately called her mother back. “Mum?”

“Paige.”

Paige pursed her lips together at her mother’s tone. “Mum, when you ring me three times in the space of about a minute, I think there’s an emergency, not that you want a chat, you had me terrified. I literally all but threw Oscar off the phone.” She scolded, putting on her kettle, knowing she would not have her phone away from her ear for at least twenty minutes. “So, what is it you rang to tell me?”

“Nothing at all, Darling.” Her mother’s voice told her there was something.

“Mum, I know you thirty-three years, whatever it is, just say it.”

“Well, after everything with that absolute scoundrel, I knew you would not rush off to meet someone else, but to hear you are seeing Tom Hiddleston, not from you but from the radio...honestly, Paige.” Her mother seemed genuinely bothered.

Paige sighed. “Mum, I am not seeing Tom, I just was helping him for his new play.”

“And to go for a meal with his mother and sister but not me. I feel very hurt, Paige.”

“Mum…Look, I did not plan to meet his mother and sister today, they just turned up to his house unannounced and his mum badgered us into getting something to eat and it all snowballed from there, you know I don’t keep things from you, or Dad.” Paige explained.

There was a moment of silence, as though her mother was processing what her daughter had revealed to her before she spoke again, her tone far chirpier. “So, what is his mother like, does he speak to her with respect? You know, I always said Derek treated Helen with no respect.”

Paige feared she would roll her eyes back into her skull if today continued as it had done, thus far. “He is an utter gentleman, Mum; to his mother and his sisters, and indeed every woman.” She did not reference Derek or his mother Helen, though it was true, her mother always commented on his lack of respect for his mother. “She is amazing, by the way, Diana. She reminds me a lot of you.”

“Wonderful. So, when are you bringing him to dinner?”

“Mum, please listen, it’s not like that. I was just helping him with his show and the next thing you know, it is blown completely out of proportion.”

“Your father thinks him a little thin, but he is very handsome.”

Paige scoffed. Her father was always blunt, she loved that about him. He was born to a working-class family and even with affording his children good educations and such, he never lost his roots as he worked his way up. “I doubt Dad called him ‘handsome’.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Her father growled in the background. “It’s your mother thinks him handsome.”

“Put Dad on Mum,” Paige asked, knowing her father would speak through her mother if she did not talk to him directly.

“Paigey, you got back on the horse finally, I see.”

“Dad, not you too.”

“You are too beautiful and good to be single, Paige, you need someone.”

“Dad, life is not about needing someone. I am perfectly happy.”

“No, you’re not. Other people can be alone but not you, you want to have someone otherwise you would never have said yes to Derek.”

Paige said nothing. She had wanted to get married, she did want someone, before. Now she was too scared to try again, once was painful enough. “People change, Dad.”

“Not too much, Sweetheart.”

“Look, I met him at Sophie’s, he’s doing a play where he is being cheated on, he knew what Derek did, he asked me to give him some personal experience to work into his performance, he made me dinner and we discussed it and then today, his mother and sister turned up at his and before we know it, they are dragging us to lunch.”

“Well, I don’t need a rundown of everything, but sounds like you two are getting on well. Has Mark met him yet?”

“No, no one has met him because there is nothing for anyone to be meeting, why is no one believing me on this?” Paige thought of her parents, her father would at least have some chance of listening to her.

“You just admitted to going out with him for brunch, and that he is cooking dinner for you. At least he knows how to cook, that’s one up. We just want you to be happy, Paige. You will have to bring him to dinner on Sunday. We need to see if he really is good enough for you. I heard you say he treats women right, that’s a big step up from that sack of pus.”

“Dad…”

“Now, I mean it. I want to meet him.”

“Dad, put Mum back on.” All of a sudden, her mother did not seem too bad.

“See you soon, Paigey.”

“Bye Dad. Love you.” A moment later, the line was switched to her mother again.

It took twenty-five minutes for her mother to finally come off the phone, but that was only because a friend had called around to talk to her...specifically regarding Paige’s new famous boyfriend. Paige hung up feeling frustrated regarding her parents’ ignoring her on the matter.

She sent Mark a quick message, telling him she would talk to him later, she was just recovering from a call to their mother first.

*

Tom sighed as he threw his car keys in the bowl he kept them in beside the door after returning home. He did not know what to think of the madness that had become his past twenty-four hours.

He never intended to do anything with Paige, just dinner in return for picking her brain to better his role as Robert, to give him some credence. When he heard her confess to Sophie she was sexually frustrated, he thought nothing of it. He had suffered it himself, in fact, he was suffering it last night, hence his eagerness to seek a willing partner. She had spoken so eloquently and passionately. Her intelligence, like her demeanour, was incredibly alluring and he had fallen for her somewhat, he could not help it. When she kissed him back, when she had been so willing, he lost any modicum of control he thought he had. When his sister and mother had come, he asked Paige to play along and she did, better than many women he knew that acted for a living. She took everything his mother threw at her, and goodness knows she threw most everything, and she did not falter. Paige was an incredible woman.

He also thought of how she paid for brunch. She did not like men doing things for her, she could do it for herself. That was incredibly sexy. A woman that controlled a situation. The cheating pig that threw her aside was an idiot of the highest order in Tom’s eyes.

When he heard his phone begin to ring, he was not in much of a mood for whoever it was, seeing Ben’s name, the fact that he had apparently rung two other times and a message from him stating to answer the phone, Tom did so. “Ben.”

“What the Hell have I just heard on the radio?”

Tom, having not had the radio on, did not know what Ben was referencing. “I don’t know? Is this some sort of weird guessing game?”

“Don’t get smart,” Ben warned. “I had the radio on to listen about actual news only to get the entertainment news special that Tom Hiddleston brought his new girlfriend, Paige Winters out to lunch with his mother and sister, that is the news I am referencing. Why, in the name of all you believe in, are you and Paige, of all bloody people, going to lunch with your family?”

“I was speaking with Paige with regards Betrayal. She very kindly was giving me insight so I could portray Robert better and Mum and Sarah showed up and got the wrong end of things.”

“You’re leaving out some of the story,” Ben declared. “I think you forget that I actually know you.”

Tom said nothing for a moment. “So, we may have…” For a simple exhaling of breath, Tom could hear the disapproval in it. “We are both adults, Ben. Nothing bad happened. She’s an incredible woman and she just helped me out with this.”

“Of all the people to break down Paige’s wall, why am I not surprised it’s you? Honestly, I told Sophie before you’d get on well.”

[imagine-darksiders]

(7 deadly sins person) in a relationship

Gotcha x

Envy: - You were perhaps the very first creature in existence who ever showed her a modicum of kindness and now she’s attached to you at the hip. 

- Ferociously possessive and will threaten anyone who looks as though they’re getting too close to you. 

- She’s constantly seeking validation from you and she really won’t like it if you pay attention to someone else.  

- She is exceptionally clingy, which is probably why she has four arms. All the better to cuddle you with. 

- She cannot stop thinking about you. She’s unsettled by her own level of interest. 

- She’s very good at keeping her emotions hidden, so you’ll need to get creative if you want to know what she’s feeling. 

- You’ve proven you can take care of yourself, but she still worries. You are just a human, after all. 

- You’re constantly teased for being shorter than her.

- Lots of picking you up and pinning you to the wall for a domineering kiss. 

Lust: - Receiving legitimate affection without an ulterior motive is practically unheard of for them but you seem happy to dish it out in spades.

- You’re the only human who has yet to fall for one of their illusions, so they must rely on more traditional methods to charm you. 

- For the first time, they don’t have to use their silver tongue to win you over which is admittedly a pleasant surprise. 

- They’re always telling you how beautiful you are. 

- A shameless flirt, they’ll take any opportunity they can to make you blush. 

- Enjoys laying their head on your chest just to hear your heart beating. 

- They have the ability to teleport anywhere they please. This ability comes in very handy for sneaking you into places where you’d otherwise pay an entry fee. Suddenly, you’re seeing a lot more of the world for very little money.  

- Their intelligence can be intimidating but they truly don’t mean to sound patronising when they talk to you. 

- Insatiably polite, Lust never has a cross word to say about their human partner and will vehemently reprimand anyone who does.

Wrath: - He likes to tease you to see if he can rile you up. Your rage excites him.

- Somewhat childish. He’ll lose his temper and start destroying things if he doesn’t get his way. 

- Wrath may not be the brightest of sins, but he’s definitely the fiercest. The perfect embodiment of a dumb brute. Good thing that’s your type. 

- He’ll show off for you on a daily basis, hoping that his muscle will be enough to impress you. 

- Begs you to let him start a fight with anyone who even so much as looks at you funny. 

- The only sex is angry sex. He literally doesn’t know how to be a soft lover and though he may not mean to cause you harm, you will come away aching.

- He gets excited when you kiss and has to be careful not to burn you with his fiery tongue. 

- You find that your fuse is a lot shorter than it once was, an indirect result of just being around him. 

- He teaches you to stand up for yourself, how to fight for the things you want and to never let anyone walk all over you ever again. 

Gluttony: - You end up buying a cottage by the ocean so he can visit you when he pleases without drying out. 

- Unfortunately, it’s probably a good idea not to keep any pets while you’re with him. 

- Although his lure is terrifying to behold, you soon get used to his too-many mouths filled with needlelike teeth. 

- He ‘sings’ to you at night, the sound of his call out in the bay sounds like a pod of whales. It’s remarkably soothing. 

- You attempt to go fishing sometimes, but Gluttony either eats your bait or pulls you into the water if he’s feeling playful. 

- You will never go hungry again. 

- He’s very giving lover, never satisfied, never full up of you. 

- When he’s in his kraken form, he’ll take you on a lot of ocean-based adventures. 

- Take heed. He tends to get a bit nippy when you’re kissing one of the mouths on his humanoid lure.

- Sometimes, if he’s feeling needy, he’ll creep a tentacle in through your front door and drag you out onto the beach. 

Avarice: - He saw you one day and you instantly caught his fancy.

- Of all the priceless artefacts he has, you are the most precious. 

- He’d never say it, but he would lose all of his accumulated possessions so long as he got to keep you. 

- Anything you want, he probably has it….somewhere. 

- He’s extremely grabby and you often find several of your personal belongings go missing when he’s been around. 

- He showers you in riches, jewellery and finery the likes of which you’ve never seen. All stolen, of course. 

- He is literally the embodiment of greed, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t like sharing you with anyone.

- Laughs at all your jokes, no matter how bad. 

Sloth: - He actively encourages duvet days, revelling in the lazy hours you spend together doing absolutely nothing. 

- You introduce him to the joys of binge-watching a tv series in a single day.

- He’s amazed that you don’t seem to mind his stench. 

- His insect-like minions are at your full disposal should you want them. 

- It’s incredibly hard to resist relaxing when you’re with him, even his voice is soothing and has a strange, entrancing hum to it. 

- If you plan on getting any work done, avoid spending time with Sloth. He’s infamous for discouraging all kinds of labor, often to the point of holding you in his immense claw so you physically can’t work. 

- He absolutely loves gossiping with you over a cup of tea. 

Pride: Already did Pride