#which might make me less likely to sleep through an assault

[chaoticloving]

cock blocked

harry styles x reader

summary: harry gets cocked blocked by a couple of cuties

warnings: shower sex (f oral, m masturbation)

Harry loved mornings like this.

He loved the sound of the fan on high speed, as insisted on by Y/n, he loved the sound of the city of London in the streets below, but most importantly, he loved the feeling of his body wrapped around Y/n--and, of course, the other way around.

Harry had picked Y/n up from the airport late last night. Harry might've chugged a couple cups of coffee to stay awake and get himself on the time zone Y/n was currently in. It worked to get him through the drive to Heathrow and back, not to mention the "i've miss you so much sex" that they were both desperate; but it was fair to say that Harry was beat by midnight and needed a good lie in.

The couple was in Y/n's flat, but they weren't alone. Marmalade, or Marney, is the precious black Scottish Terrier with little legs that like to scamper around and cause havoc for Harry. Then theres Sugar, a white Persian cat thats a true cutie. She sleeps the whole day but always makes time to 'talk' to Y/n or Harry by meowing and responding to whatever the couple say.

Y/n only has one rule: no pets on the bed.

She doesn't even allow for outside clothes on her bed--which Harry got an earful of when he once tried to take a nap while wearing clothes he wore on his walk over, but now thinking about it, she might of been trying to just get him naked.

Continuing on, the pets know never to to jump on the bed or really ever go into Y/n's room, they only go in when Harry is staying over. And without a doubt, either Marney or Sugar (sometimes together) would always tickle Harry's foot that finds it's way out from under the covers. They are Y/n's little devils that Harry just loves so much.

"Mhm, babe, scoot over." Y/n mumbles, slightly breaking from Harry's grasp to spread out more.

Harry grumbles from not being able to spoon and hold her as easily as before, but come up with the great idea of star-fishing right on top of her. Y/n groans when his weight is put on top of her.

"Don't know why you're complain'." Harry mumbles. "You got more room now."

"So thoughtful." She said, sarcasm coming though her groggy voice. She patted his bare back, hand coming up though his hair to continue on with her sleep.

Harry had the same plan. That was, until he heard scratches coming from the closer door.

Harry silently groaned as he removed his face from Y/n's neck and looked at the door in which pro red the couple from the little monsters.

"Your kids are up."

"Practically your kids too." She mumbles, pushing Harry off of her body to get up.

"No! Don't get up!" Harry whined. "Need at least another hour of beauty sleep."

"Think you need a bit more than an hour." She joked.

"You're so mean. Why am I still with you?" Harry smiles, flipping over to look at her as she comes back to the bed.

"Because I am amazing." She answers simply, sitting on his lap and leaning her head just above his. "And I'm really hot."

Harry smiles boyishly, a cheeky smile creeping over his face along with a slight blush. "Don't forget sexy." His hands come up to rest on her waist, fingers dancing along the bare skin. "And beautiful."

He kissed her, sitting up so he could add his tongue and to do a bit more than laying there and looking pretty.

Y/n rolled her hips, causing Harry to let out a moan. "Fuck, only you could do this to me, love."

Y/n wickedly smiled against his cheek, continuing her assault on his neck with her lips.

The first time Y/n heard whimpering, she thought it was Harry just being extra needy this morning, but when it was accompanied by scratching at the door, Y/n knew it was her other baby's that needed some--much less intimate--love.

She kissed Harry on the lips, sitting up with his lips and groin chasing her. She went to the door and was met with her pets at the door.

"I did not just get cocked blocked by a fuckin' dog and cat." Harry said in disbelief. Y/n giggles but leaves Harry's line of sight to presumably feed the cock blockers.

Harry sighs and gets up, he's uncomfortable in his boxers as his halfy is causing it to be a little tight around the groin--it never fails to boost his confidence, though.

He walks to the connecting bathroom, turning on the shower and brushing his teeth so he could get rid of the morning breath. He soon strips and enters the shower, letting the warm water sooth his skin.

He hears the bedroom door shut and the footsteps of his love. Y/n takes off her (Harry's really) shirt and jumps into the shower with Harry.

"The baby's just wanted their breakfast." She mumbled apologetically, kissing his lips. "Want me to make it up to you?"

"Maybe later." Harry mutters, trailing kisses down her neck then breast without any signs of stopping. "Right now I want my own breakfast."

“Mhm. Not so sure on that line.” Y/n mumbled, hand slowly going into Harry’s hair as he crouched down.

“Want me to try again?”

“Nope.” She pushed Harry’s head right into her cunt, Harry more than welcomed the action though.

Harry kissed the sides of her thighs next to her pussy, before sucking gently on her clit. Y/n’s hold on his hair grew tighter, both of them moaning in unison.

Harry’s hand started to move from her hips; his left arm went to her ass, grabbing it and pushing her forward to get her pussy closer to his mouth. His right hand trialed down to his hard cock, practically throbbing from the small bit of sensation from the water droplets. He gripped it tight, just like Y/n would do if she was hand job, and then slowly stroked down and up, just to edge himself.

Y/n was starting to ride Harry’s face, pushing her hips slightly forward and back to make use of Harry’s tung, while she started ti breath heavy and moan. Harry, ever the pleaser, paralleled her movement with his tung to help her hit that pleasure she was seeking. Harry, not to mention, also matched that movement with his right hand on his dick.

“I love you H.” She moaned, eyes pressed together as she was about to reach her climax.

Harry just nodded, getting close too, before cumming on the shower floor as Y/n came on his face.

Harry trialed kissed down her thigh, then slowly stood up. Y/n kissed him as he was to his normal height, letting her hands go over his toned stomach.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to help you.” She mumbled, referring to Harry’s masturbation.

“You helped me more then ever lovie.” He promised. “Now lemme do your hair and wash you down, just stand and look pretty for me, yeah?”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot

[scribbledghost]

Hello there!! I just wanted to gush about the NSFW Fem!Simon alphabet, because it was so awesome!! I'm infatuated with the whole piece, but if I had to pick my favorite letters they were probably A (for Aftercare), F (for favorite position), and Z (for snoozing afterwards.) I really find it interesting how, despite the topic being steamy, there's still some areas to dive more into fem!Simon's character (like, i.e., her becoming less sexually active after her experience in Mexico.) I find it super cool how you're able to give us a peek into her character from a more unique perspective, in this case with fem!Simon's dynamic with sex.

And then, there was something I was curious about. If I can phrase my thought correctly, it's my curiosity on what fem!Simon might have in common with canon!Simon, as well as what differs between them. For example, while rereading the fem!Simon works, I was going through the one about her first kiss with reader (which I'll link here because it's super stinking cute and sweet: https://scribbledghost.tumblr.com/post/746033214969315328/omg-i-love-mas-muscled-and-im-literally-so-in)

There's a couple of lines there that would be really fitting with canon!Simon's devotion towards reader. Like, for example: "Hell, she’d walk outside, lie face-down in the water, and let you tread on her back all the way to the truck if you asked her to. But that’s a different matter." And, additionally: "For a moment, she contemplates telling you the truth - that she likes holding you, likes taking care of you, and likes showing off her strength (purely because she knows you like her showing off) - but she reconsiders."

But then, there's the blurb you did about fem!Simon being ecstatic about reader calling her wife. And, in the tags, you were talking about how canon!Simon would be allergic to marriage for a few years while fem!Simon is more eager. So, I'm just curious, how similar do you think fem!Simon is to canon!Simon? And what are some key differences between them?

(I also apologize for A) making this a mini-essay with the length and B) any mistakes... I'm sleep deprived and typing this at 5:00 in the morning so it's probably not my most coherent ask lol.)

okay, i am super sorry it's taken me so long to answer this! I've been super busy while on vacation this week, but I've finally got some downtime and I've been thinking about this ask since I got it. so here we go!

First, I'm so glad to hear you like the smut alphabet! It was super fun to write (and I promise I'm still working on that SFW version). I love digging into characters' personalities and stories, so those alphabet memes are perfect for that. For Fem!Simon's relationship with sex, I headcanon her as being incredibly closeted until maybe her early 20s due to her upbringing (her father was super abusive, and she's always been a tomboy even before coming to terms with being a butch lesbian, so there was plenty of homophobia coming from her dad too). From there, she had a few flings, but after she was tortured and assaulted in Mexico, she stopped all of that. I know sexual trauma can also manifest in hypersexuality, but I just don't see it happening that way for Simon. Instead I see her withdrawing from it completely for a while (until she meets you).

As for similarities and differences between Fem!Simon and Canon Simon, I'd honestly see them as mostly similar. For example, they're both incredibly loyal and devoted once you get past their emotional walls, like you mentioned with the quotes from the first kiss blurb for Fem!Simon. They've largely got the same backstory, with the only alterations being in how their sexualities shaped them differently. Her personality is largely the same as well - stern, blunt, and has no problem with being mean when the situation calls for it.

For differences, I think Fem!Simon is only slightly (and I mean VERY slightly) more open than canon Simon is. She's still incredibly stoic, cold, and closed-off if she doesn't know you well, but if she's romantically interested in you, she'll make her move a bit sooner than canon Simon would. She still takes time to feel you out, so to speak. She keeps an eye on you, takes mental notes of your mannerisms and how you handle certain situations to make sure you're compatible. She's analytical, just like canon Simon. But once she's sure, she's sure.

And as far as marriage goes, she's more open to it than canon Simon is purely because it was illegal for most of her life (same-sex marriage didn't become legalized in the UK until 2014). So even once she'd come to terms with her being a lesbian, there was a decent amount of time where she wouldn't have been allowed to marry anyway, so it was... idk, "safer for her to want it", I suppose. Now that it's legal, she's already moved past her mental blocks on the issue.

I think those are the more obvious differences between Fem!Simon and Canon!Simon? Largely, I think everything else is either mostly or completely the same between the two.

Again, thank you SO MUCH for this ask and for letting me dive more into Fem!Simon's personality!! I appreciate it a lot 💖💖💖

#fem simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

[makethatelevenrings]

Hawkie Talkie // S. Riley x gn!disabled!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: gun violence, blood, canon typical violence, reader is in a wheelchair which shouldn’t be a “warning” per se but just so any able-bodied bitches get bent out of shape you can’t say I didn’t warn you, swearing but it’s COD so

Summary: When the base you’re at is overrun with hostiles, Ghost is especially concerned about their intelligence officer. You’re fine, aside from your jokes.

Frankly, you could do without the ear splitting alarm that was shrieking through the base. Yeah, yeah, it was to alert that hostiles were active and encroaching on the base, but it was also really fucking distracting.

You pushed your wheelchair towards your door and locked it before moving back to your desk. Pulling open the desk drawer on your right, you grabbed the slim plastic case you were looking for and opened it to reveal a small comms unit. The earpiece settled in your ear and you strapped the collar around your throat before turning it on. Voices immediately assaulted your already battered ears and you winced.

“I take it there’s a slight problem?” you quipped. Your fingers flew over the keys in front of you as you pulled up a map of the base with coordinating CCTV.

“Hawk,” Simon’s voice came over the comms, every bit sharp and dark. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t your Simon at that moment, but Ghost. “How copy?”

“Office is secured and from what I can tell, no hostiles nearby. Same cannot be said for you, Gaz. Two coming in from the left.”

Two shots reverberated through the comms and you smirked. Hawk, they called you, due to you being the eyes of the operation. An intelligence officer contracted by Laswell to work for the 141, you made sure they got the information they needed before and during their missions coupled with any threat assessments and cyber security. Being in a wheelchair might restrict you from being in the field, but your job proved to be a lot more important.

“Who are these guys?” you asked. “Let me rephrase that, who the fuck did you all piss off enough?”

Soap snorted at your question. “Looks like some remnants of AQ trying to get revenge.”

“Hawk, do you have a visual on the whole base?” Price interrupted.

“Have had it up since the alarms sounded, Captain. What do you need to know?”

“How many hostiles and where?”

Your eyes scanned over the screen, correlating the data with the cameras. “Twenty-six active hostiles. Looks like they started with forty, four groups of ten attacking from each direction. Ghost, you’ve got three on your tail.”

“I’m heading your way,” the phantom snapped.

“Negative, Lieutenant. I’m fine.” Truly, you were. Your office was near the heart of the base so you were decently far from the action and the pistol in your desk drawer would help out if anyone did get past the rampaging soldiers out there.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Worried about me, Ghost? Price, two heading your way on your left.”

“Less flirting you two,” Price said before gunfire erupted over his end. You waited for it to subside before you changed your cameras to focus on Soap’s location. Shit. Ghost was handling the northern quadrants, Gaz and Price to the south, and Soap was on east. That left the west undefended.

“The west quadrant is unprotected. Anyone able to engage?”

“Give me five minutes,” Gaz shouted. You watched as a diamond formation started making their way to the heart of the base.

Towards you.

“Hawk, get out of there,” Ghost barked. You opened your bottom drawer and opened your gun safe. As you checked the ammo and turned the safety off, you scoffed at Ghost’s suggestion.

“Yeah, let me just roll myself into the middle of a shootout. That sounds like a brilliant idea. I thought you were supposed to be an expert strategist.”

You could hear the echoes of gunfire in the distance and it wasn’t just over the comms. Flipping the lights off of your office, you quickly set your monitors to sleep in hopes that it would look as though your office was unoccupied. You pushed your wheelchair back, sliding up against the back wall. Your gun sat in your lap on top of the little blanket covered in Casper the Friendly Ghost that a certain Mancunian gifted you.

“Hawk,” Ghost hissed. “I’m close to your location.”

“Yeah, well, so are they.”

You could hear the other offices next to yours being raided. The 141 wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, but they had elected to stay late to wait for you while you finished up some paperwork before you headed to the pub. Dumb fucking luck.

For these motherfuckers, that is.

The handle of your door rattled and you steadied your hand on the grip of your pistol. The glass next to the door shattered but you didn’t flinch. A hand reached through and unlocked the door.

The second it opened, you laid the leader out with a single shot to the head. Gunfire erupted at random from the next two, but you dispatched them cleanly. A strangled gurgle and choking sound came from the final man and his body was dumped onto the ground with a knife clearly sticking out of his neck.

There he stood, the phantom that haunted his enemies. Blood streaked across the armored part of his mask and splattered across his uniform. You offered him a smirk as you wheeled out from your hiding place and glanced down at the corpses around you.

“You good?” you asked. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and he strode forward, yanking the edge of his mask up to rest across the bridge of his nose. Ghost bent down and his glove curled around your jaw, forcing your face up, and collided his lips with yours. It bordered more on the edge of pain than pleasure as your teeth clashed and tongues battled for domination. He groaned into your mouth and you grinned wickedly. Only you could pull those noises from him.

Without looking, you raised your gun and fired over Simon’s shoulder, directly hitting the hostile who aimed to sneak up on you. He collapsed into a pool of his own blood and Ghost finally pulled away to look at your latest victim.

“Jesus bloody H. Christ, love,” he grunted. Ghost tugged his mask back down and studied the path to the door. He quickly nudged the bodies out of the way so you had a clean path out of the office to follow him out.

“Hawk good?” Soap asked over the comms.

“Hawk’s bloody fucking brilliant, that’s what,” Ghost grunted.

“Hey guys, what type of phone does a hawk use?” you quipped as you followed Ghost out. “A hawkie talkie.”

Simultaneous groans erupted over the comms, but it did nothing to lessen your shit eating grin. Price muttered something about transferring you to Antarctica, but you ignored them all. You just glanced at the goliath of a man beside you, seeing his mask move with his muted laughter.

#ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #simon riley x reader

[hamliet]

"Pet": Pretty Woman, But Gay

So I read the Captive Prince series way back in like, 2016, and read the first few short stories and never read the fourth one because I wasn't a fan of the character it would focus on. And then through a weird set of circumstances I found myself reading this short story this past week, and it might be one of my favorite short stories ever.

I'm posting under a cut because the series is very adult, and the short story and series itself contain triggering content.

Ancel is definitely a favorite character of all time now, which is impressive especially since I hated him. But that's kind of what CS Pacat does well--she writes unlikable characters who are indeed truly flawed and not just soft babies inside, and then makes you like them by showing their development without completely changing who they are as characters. It was the main strength of the original Captive Prince trilogy, after all--Laurent's development still remains one of my favorite character arcs of all time.

So really, I don't know why I was shocked at what she did with Ancel. Especially because the whole reason I hated Ancel was the same incident that made me dislike Laurent: a scene in which Laurent uses Ancel to sexually assaults Damen. And I still do think that particular scene is the biggest flaw in the series, because it's kind of glossed over in a lot of ways. Admittedly, that's still the biggest flaw of "Pet" as a story, too: that the story frames Ancel's low moral point as what he does to Erasmus, which is portrayed as an escalation of what he does to Damen, when I'd argue it's the opposite.

Yet, seeing things from Ancel's perspective--how desperate he is to matter, how he genuinely has only ever been used and so doesn't understand why other slaves wouldn't even try to perform and enjoy the meager scraps of joy they get in life--changed my perspective on him. Not on the incident, but on him.

Ancel's a brilliantly written unreliable narrator, too. As confident and vain as he seems, he's all too aware that he doesn't matter in the court. As much as he hates Damen and Erasmus for the former's refusal and the latter's inability to play the role, it's really self-hatred projected onto them. We see bits and pieces of this seeping through in his conversations with Berenger, such as him telling Berenger in a moment of delight:

"I'd even sleep with you. I might even enjoy it for once." He stopped. "High praise," Berenger said dryly.

Ancel doesn't enjoy a lot of his life. But he'd never admit it, because he lacks control over pretty much every aspect of his life and so seeks to keep control over his thoughts by lying to himself. And yet, paradoxically, he's still one of the few people at court who is usually honest with others.

All of this is why Berenger is such a great love interest for Ancel. Berenger prizes honesty, but also freedom. He buys Ancel but refuses to sleep with him because he knows Ancel doesn't really want to, no matter what sweet nothings Ancel whispers in his ear. He respects Ancel's autonomy in ways no one else ever has, and he sees him as a person first and foremost.

Normally stoic "good guys" aren't super interesting as love interests for me. I like angsty tortured souls, Byronic bastards. But Berenger works perfectly in the story, and is no less interesting as a character than Ancel. To be fair, part of this is because everyone in Vere is insane and debauched and there needs to be one normal one there, and that's Berenger. Yet there's intrigue, too: why Berenger bid so highly to buy Ancel in the first place is never directly stated, but what he does say is that Ancel:

You took on every councilor in that room and won.

It wasn't the physical performance, but Ancel himself, his psychological performance. It serves as a metaphor for the overarching plot of the Captive Prince series, wherein the lowly and those who have everything against them end up taking on far more powerful individuals and systems and winning.

Which makes the last line of the story all the more fitting:

But if he wins?

Ancel may not be a pure-hearted individual, but all along he's showing Berenger that it is possible for those who have less to win, and to be loved and give love. He gives Berenger hope for the future, for the coming coup. And as we all know, Laurent does win, and I can only presume Ancel and Berenger live happily ever after.

My second complaint about the series is that the ending is too abrupt even if the ending line is perfect because that's my complaint about the trilogy too.

#captive prince #berencel #ancel #berenger #cs pacat #hamliet reviews #captive prince meta #captive prince pet

[dastardlyjr]

Steddie. Eddie gives Steve "sleeping" pills to help him sleep. Takes advantage. 18+.

TW: Date rape. Obsessive behavior. Non con Somnophilia.

(Btw this is my first time posting something like this, if I didn't Trigger Warn correctly please let me know.)

The lock clicks and the patio door slides open with practiced ease. Afterall, it’s not his first time breaking and entering the Harrington household. The sterile and impersonal environment still doesn’t fail to make him shudder. Ugh, a few sports trophies or family photos wouldn’t kill them, would it? He wondered, time and again, how no one at any of the famous King Steve parties noticed how absent the boys parents actually were. Brown eyes flicked over the room void of emotion as he strained his ears for any unexpected noises upstairs. Eddie hated this house. If Steve was his he would never be able to climb down from his pedestal.

Wasn’t that a thought? Steve being his.

His. Outside of Eddies imagination.

And they were getting closer to that too. Now with Nancy out of the picture and King Steve being pushed off his throne by that dickhead, Hargrove.

Really, he should thank them for this. If he wasn’t so pissed at them for hurting his boy, he might have.

It was only the heart break of unrequited love (Eddie seethes) and being knocked down a few pegs from popular culture that had Steve coming to him in the first place. Eddie imagined him and Steve speaking a million times. Some of them at the picnic table, even. Though admittedly with less money for drugs and more intimate deals taking place instead.

Too bad daddys money came into play.

A few bucks in his own wallet and a handful of cute little pills in Steves. The king has not been sleeping well, it turns out. Sleeping aids, Eddie told him. The little king should have looked the devil in the eyes before trusting him. He’s sure Steve would have noticed the manic gleam in them. The desperation.

Now he could wonder up the stairs into the room which was always off limits the guests during parties. Not that it ever stopped Eddie before. How he would bury his face in the pillow and inhale. Would dig through the laundry to nab whatever looked well worn before making a hasty retreat.

The doorway was cracked open and for a moment he was concerned about the light coming from the room before remembering the adorable little nightlight by the bed. He almost wept them he first saw it. Wanting to crush the fragile plastic with his fist offer his own solace. Who needed a light to keep the monsters at bay when Eddie was there to protect him?

The door creaked as it opened and the metalhead winced, eyes flicking to Steve to watch for any reaction. None. A half empty glass of water sat on the nightstand. Tonight must be a “sleepaid” night. So Eddie saunters in, running the tips of his fingers along the edge of the bed as he moves to stand before Steve. His expression is lax and lips parted as he breathes slowly through them. Taking a risk, Eddie snaps his fingers by his ear and waits. Other than a quiet snuffling sound, which almost brings Eddie to his knees, he remains dead to the world.

“Hi, baby.” Fuck, was that his voice? Eddie sounded wrecked. He didn’t even notice his hands were shaking.

“You cool with me just-“ he grabs the covers and slowly tugs them down, drinking in every inch exposed as the blanket is pushed down to the foot of the bed. “Yea, you are.” Steve is laying on his stomach and Eddie touches his bare thigh with trembling fingers. The red shorts he’s wearing have ridden up to reveal a sliver of his ass. The globe barely contained in them. Fuck, if he ever wore these in public Eddie would be in jail for aggravated sexual assault. “You wear these for me, sweetheart?” His fingers trace around the hem, pushing the shorts further up.

Too tempted, he pinches a cheek and squeezes until Steve huffs and shifts away. Eddie leans forward to eye at the boys face suspiciously. Is he waking up, or? After a moment of Steve settling he decides to hurry this up to avoid any more scares. Throwing a leg over tan thighs, Eddie sits down heavily and tilts forward to press his clothes crotch between those round globes. He rocks a few times, breathe stuttering as he stared unblinking where they grind together.

Each of his hands grabs a cheek, pulling them apart and pressing them back together to watch how those red shorts would stretch and scrunch into his crack. Another rough squeeze and he slipped his long fingers into the waist band and pulled down unceremoniously. Eddie almost choked on air when the abrupt pull had Steves cheeks bouncing lightly.

“Christ, Stevie.”

He pulled them apart again and watched in rapture as the pink hole hidden there twitched from the cold air. His thumb pressed against it, pushing down until he felt the pucker give a little. Steves knee suddenly hiked up and Eddie almost threw himself onto the floor, lifting up to his knees and hovering over the sleeping figure like a taut string ready to snap. He waited longer this time before moving again.

“Telling me to hurry up, huh?” he asked, still paranoid but working on getting back into it. Really should have brought his handcuffs and a blindfold. Then he could really lose himself in this.

Instead, he unbuttoned and zipped down, pulling out his aching dick. Eddies head fell back at the feeling of pure relief to be freed. Pre was dripping down the length of him and he eagerly, lovingly, pushed his tip to Steves hole and rubbed his cum there until the pucker was slick and shiny looking. Fuck the handcuffs, Eddie should have brought his camera. Probably for the best he didn’t. No telling what would happen if that particular polaroid fell out of his wallet.

No, this will be his dirty little secret.

Eddie scoots up toned thighs until his cock is comfortably settled between Steves cheeks. He holds each one firmly against his palms, admiring how well Steves ass fit in his hands. With one more shivering breath, Eddie begins to rock into him. His cock slides slowly up and down with pre slicking the way somewhat.

It isn’t long before he loses himself to the feeling. He heaves and drops forward, pushing his forehead roughly between Steves shoulder blades and humping down against him with abandon. “Fuck- Baby-“ He babbles out pet names and praise. Everything he wishes he could say away from sleep aids.

Begging to be seen in broken sentences.

Asking to be known. To be requitted. Loved.

Little sounds meet his ears. Tiny huffs of breathes as Steves brows furrow and drool drips from his parted lips. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and pushes down harder, pushing his cock down with the heel of one hand to keep himself in place. He strained to listen to those sounds, pretending Steve is awake and making them willingly.

The thought of flushed cheeks, teary eyes and broken gasps directed at him is what pushes Eddie over the edge. He groans long and low, his hips stuttering as ropes of cum are squeezed out of him.

He pushes and pushes until overstimulation hurts and he has to stop. Eddie sits back and stares at the mess he’s made. Steves ass has red handprints and both cheeks and he hopes dearly that they bruise like that. His cum settles into the dimples of his back and paints up his spine. Eddie, feeling a little feral afterwards, ducks down to clean his mess. The taste of himself is sharp and salty and he moans at the taste mixed with Steves sweaty skin. He laps himself up and plants open mouth kisses as he goes.

“Let me worship you,” he begs with a shaky breath. “Let me, baby let me, let me…”

Eddie remains after until his own breathing evens out and his climax high settles. Giving Steves ass one last look, he pulls those red shorts up as well as the blanket. He hovers by the side of the bed, tracing Steves soft facial features with the tips of his fingers. His brows, the ridge of his nose, cheek bones, and plush lips. He dips his index finger in enough to wet the tip against tongue. Pulling back, Eddies rubs the wet of his finger against his own lips.

Indirect kiss settled, he gives one last lingering glance before leaving everything as he found it and making his way home.

#steddie #steddie fic #Havent written since like 2016 sooooo #had to look at other bloggers to see how to format this #yall so fancy these days #Didn't read this twice just typed and panic posted here wego #Idk if I even posted this correctly with the TW an all #dark eddie munson

[shallowseeker]

I don't really agree with your demon dean takes but i find them interesting

K. Much of this is just my lens and experience, you know? My beloved brain-addled Gramps grabbed my ass one day from his hospital bed. Was that his "true self?"

Basically, I don't buy into the whole, "release your inhibitions" wholesale. Inhibitions taken to extremes can be bad, sure, like how they are rigidly enforced with angels. On the flipside, I don't think disinhibition is automatically "good" or "your super-duper secret true self." Inhibitions are actually a key component of decision-making and free will.

I don't actually disagree with other takes on Demon Dean. I let most of them co-exist in my head. They're fun. A) I just see this particular take less often, and I like it. B) It gives me a shit-ton of mileage in filtering the side stories of the season:

DEAN HATED BEING A DEMON

Dean talks about how he hated becoming a demon, and he asks Cas to kill him if he goes darkside again.

As a demon, Dean doesn't actually act like himself; he mistreats the girl he sleeps with, which is not his MO at all.

He sings badly, and the Dean we know is into music even since Robin and sings quite well.

He's not his full integrated self, he's often disinhibited, bitter, and numb.

It's a callback to his original trauma in Hell, "being carved into a new animal." Hell, it's an odious nod to Alastair.

There are glimmers of his soul fighting to get out. Moments of lucidity, you might say.

He thanks Cas for, "stepping in when you did." Another callback to Dean's original Hell rescue.

via @silver-stake-through-the-heart - he didn’t care about Baby! “She was just a car.” Dean didn’t care about Baby or himself. He became an animal with no interiority that requires no tenderness, like “just a dumb car.”

LOSS OF CONTROL; DISORGANIZED PSYCHOLOGY

During season 10, Dean has recurring nightmares about the loss of control.

...because he hated being a demon beholden to instinct, sundered from his own emotions. (It's a parallel to Naomi's super-soldier-Cas.)

That's what killing the human traffickers was really about; if Dean had lined them up and executed them under his own free will with full faculties, it wouldn't have bothered anyone.

Like when Mary views Jack's torture-kill in season 14, it's about the "kill signature." And well, the loss of control does have some research to back it up when it comes to assessing a worsening disorganized psychology. Mary is a lifelong hunter and would be hip to recognizing the signs of a hunter losing himself/losing touch with reality.

As much as I love to joke about Dean trying to crack Sam's skull open with a hammer, that's not what Dean really wants. In this scene, he becomes a specter of Lucifer/Nick Vaught (a former mark bearer; known for his volatility and impulse issues).

PIMPS & PROSTITUTES & ROOFIES

Randy/Claire/Salinger-the-human-trafficker is parallel to Crowley/Dean/Cain-the-father-of-murder.

Claire loves Randy as Dean loves Crowley: he seemed kind and like he was giving Dean new purpose & support...at first. Randy showed remorse after he threw Claire to the wolves. He still "loved" Claire, probably. Same with Crowley. (Horribly, I'm 99% sure Claire would have forgiven Randy, too, eventually.)

Like how Claire forgave Cas, ofc. Claire will take any scrap of affection. Literally, the way past her defenses is just to give a damn, no matter what else has happened.

Raoul-the-pimp-soul-collector-that-Rowena-kills & Shaylene-the-prostitute is definitely a parallel to Crowley & Dean, right down to the brutal capitalism of Hell's soul deals.

Dean's story about John "saving" him from what is surely a close encounter with being roofied is a nod to Dean's sexual abuse as a minor, even though Dean plays it off as sexy, fun, and cool. Part of me thinks John actually walked in on a drugged-up-teen-Dean being statutory-raped by a bunch of adults. Or at the very least, sexually assaulted.

He feels like John set him up to be vulnerable and then turned around and shamed him harshly for becoming damaged goods.

SHAME & SUICIDE

This is why there's this constant swirl of SHAME and SUICIDE with regard to Dean's time as Demon Dean and becoming a knight of Hell through the Mark of Cain.

Dean even emphasizes some of the friendly, cute moments. It's the same way he retells the bar story as being Super Cool. Even Sam thinks his retelling of CBGB is a heartwarming tale. A lighthearted “summer of love,” if you will. Sam doesn’t get it. He never will.

DEAN: Somehow, we convince him to let us go. So, we all go. We all, you know, see all the sights, and uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza. The whole nine. Well, by about midnight, Sam and Dad are zonked, and I figure… Screw it. I’m going to CBGB. All right, so I get there. I sneak in, and it is nuts. I mean, people are drinking and they’re smoking and they’re—they’re snorting whatever. There’s a five-hundred pound guy on stage with a Mohawk just screaming. And, uh, my mind is blown. I don’t even know what to do. Then this girls walks up and she says “Hey, why don’t you come over and sit down with me and my friends at our table?” All right! SAM: Yeah, and they get him drunk. First time. DEAN: But not fun drunk. I’m not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I’m going to puke … forever. And right about that time, I hear him. “Dean Winchester!” ...My old man. I don’t know how, but he found me. And now I’m really freaking out, because he’s just standing there, not saying anything. I look around, and everybody else is freaking out, too. In fact, nobody’s even looking him in the eye. And finally, this one guy with, like, a safety pin through his nose and a—a “Kill Everything” tattoo looks up and he says, “Sorry, sir.”

So yeah, Demon Dean wasn't a positive experience on the whole, even though he, parallel to Claire, pretty much forgives everyone about it. She, too, is a heart character.

He only reveals how much he hated it...to Cas, really.

DISINHIBITION (REDUX)

This disinhibition of the mark rears its head again when Dean visits the college campus and makes comments about the girls there. That's not an accident of writing; it's a neon sign for how demon Dean and MoC!Dean acts, and why.

That's not in line with the Dean we've known in seasons prior OR after. It's simply...inappropriate disinhibition. Like a frontotemporal injury. Not the true self.

Dean beats on people as revenge for how he was wronged, too. If you look closely, he beats on Cas in a very similar way to how Cas beat on him in seasons 5 & 8.

Much of his behavior is an outpouring of those times Dean felt powerless in his life.

SLUTS, VALIDATION & VICTIMIZATION

Then, we have Mr. McKinley and the "slut daughter," Rose.

Dean says, "And you know what? I don't blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her."

Dean is finally unleashing his anger about what happened to him re: Cain and re: the CBGB incident.

For all his talk of "making Claire tougher," he's looking at how vulnerable he was, and he's finally starting to process the magnitude of that.

This is probably why he's not acting as outlandishly sexual in the later seasons, as much as I'd like to put it down to Cas's presence (Cas's presence is certainly meaningful).

But actually, it's that Dean processed why he acted in a certain way, and he's reflected on how it actually made him feel. (His protective locker room talk, of course, remains.)

CAS AS WHAT DEAN WISHED FOR FROM JOHN

That Cas gives Claire up to a healthier, safer life is what Dean wishes John would've done for him...left him with Sunny, perhaps.

Cas wants to keep Claire, because he loves her, but he can't repair the damage he did to her life.

Giving her up to Jody was the best thing. He's not equipped to care for Claire, like how John wasn't equipped to care for Sam or Dean.

Dean wishes John had been like Cas, and apologized, even though the situation was damn-near unfixable. He wishes John had tried to make amends anyway.

So when I say I get a lot of mileage, it's simply this. I get a lot of mileage. It's a fun lens for me, personally. And before you bring it up, yes, I do see the drug addiction parallels; I see addiction as quite complicated stuff.

I also think that Crowley is legitimately integrating his own humanity and catching feelings, but it doesn't erase the core of the whole situation. Crowley is also dealing with the events that led him to become a demon in the first place. He was abandoned, he drank too much in order to cope with an "unsuccessful" life, and he was tricked by a demon in a back alley who played on his dick insecurities.

He is like Metatron was to Cas. He saw that Dean was vulnerable, and he orchestrated a situation as a means to gain power in Hell. Ruby did this, too, with Sam. She had an agenda to get him corrupted and served on a silver platter to Lucifer. Demons do what demons do. It's not a judgment on my part so much as an observation.

I do think that, over time, it's shown that regular demons do have the capacity to get a better hold on their instincts, make connections, and can even remember how to love (SEE: Meg). The Mark was just...a much harder situation. Makes you reconsider Cain and Lucifer's plight a little bit, mmm?

#spn + disinhibition #i don't usually put this on main #but why not #feelin cute #oh besties and moots don't hate me #frontotemporal disinhibition #drugs as disinhibition #the extreme losses of free will #asks

[the-cult-of-russo]

Poetic Tragedy (Part 12)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess? 

There's a little smut in this one for you guys looool

A/N: I can’t believe I was so inspired that I churned out a 12 part fic lmao. For some reason, I always struggle with writing long fics for Billy. For other fandoms, I can legit get up to an 80 part story. I think it's because I prefer writing OCs rather than reader inserts, but I know last I asked on here before I vanished that the Billy fandom prefers reader stories. 

The longest Billy fic I’ve done was Red, White and Blue which was a collab with @blanchedelioncourt and I think the only reason I managed that was ‘cause she was cheering me on the whole way and it was so fun writing together. That was also an OC story, not a reader one, and I did all Billy’s parts (which was ridiculously fun to do lol) while she did her OCs. I’d love to be super inspired to write a long ass Billy fic like I do with other fandoms. When I was away from this blog I wrote a 75 part Spike x OC story for the Buffy fandom lmaoooo 

—------------------

One year later

“You’re getting really good at that,” Curtis murmured and you would have seen his encouraging smile but you didn’t look up from your task. Your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration as you carefully threaded the needle through the skin, watching the wound close before your eyes. You’d stitched that many wounds these past few months that your hands didn't shake when you did it anymore.

“Ow, Jesus!”

Your eyes snapped up to your patient then, dangerously narrowing in warning at him. One hand was settled on his bare chest, the other holding the needle above the wound which was just below the shoulder.

“Do you want this stitched up or not?” you asked with a short tone.

“Curt, I think your little apprentice needs to work on her bedside manner,” he drawled with a smirk.

“Careful, Billy, or I might stitch your mouth up next,” you gave him a saccharine smile and he looked at you like he wasn't sure if you actually meant your words or not. You heard Curtis snort from across the room as you continued with closing the wound, tying it off like Curtis had shown you before cutting the thread. He hadn't even hurt himself on a mission or doing something brave. Instead, he’d hurt himself because he decided it was a good idea to go up a ladder after he’d had a few drinks. 

“What d'you think, Doc? Is it gonna leave a scar?” he asked with a self-deprecating smile since he was already littered with them, his eyes looking over to Curtis. Your eyes narrowed again and you poked him scarily close to his wound and he yelped, looking at you in shock. You never allowed him to talk shit about himself, especially when it came to his scars. Curtis came over, inspecting your patch job and he hummed, smiling at you.

“You’re gonna put me out of a job at this rate,” he smirked, making heat creep into your cheeks at his praise. 

So much had changed in the year that passed and you barely had any remnants of your old life. You and Billy had taken things slow as you’d both agreed on and he’d been a little more understanding, yet not very happy, when you’d left again. He’d come to visit you at your alley or you’d go there for dinner sometimes and it was nice as you got to know each other better. Eventually, you started staying the night there and as time wore on, you spent less nights out on the streets. And now, a year later, you didn't sleep on the streets at all but you didn't really miss it. It had been a gradual thing that progressed as your relationship with Billy progressed. The more serious you both got, the less time you wanted to be away from him and the cold and desolate streets of New York started to lose their appeal. You were glad you’d taken it slow though as you knew it wouldn't work out the same if you’d just moved in here right away. You’d needed to wean yourself away from your old life and it had worked. Your dislike of violence had Curtis seeking you out to help him in the infirmary. There were even more to the ranks here since last year and he needed all the help he could get. You found you had a natural touch when it came to healing and helping people. You finally had a place and a purpose here that wasn't directly linked to being in a relationship with Billy. 

Once Billy had his shirt back on, he stood up and leaned in to peck your lips. It had taken a bit to get used to such intimate gestures and touches with him, a little beyond what you were used to. But you liked it and with time, it started to feel second nature. Without Curtis needing your assistance anymore that night, Billy laced his hand with yours as he led you out of the infirmary and back into the main area. Your eyes drifted around, taking in the Christmas decorations as a warmth spread in your chest. It would be Christmas the next day. You’d never celebrated it before, not even when you had a home because your parents didn't care enough to give you one. You hadn't celebrated it the year before either as it was just after Billy had been in hospital and it wasn't really on anyone’s mind. But this year, Frank had declared you all would be celebrating it as you all needed some holiday joy. He’d turned up the day before with Billy and a huge ass Christmas tree that you were pretty sure they’d somehow stolen. It was said tree that Billy had been decorating when he’d fallen off the ladder and onto a box of decorations, some of which were glass. The place looked magical all dressed up like this with all the twinkling lights and tinsel. You’d been amused at watching the badass recruits all falling over themselves to joyfully decorate the place. It felt like a very large family and you loved it, never having that feeling before. 

“What do you think?” Billy asked, smiling at you as you took it in. You’d been in the infirmary most of the day so you hadn't seen some of the decorations and hadn't seen the tree that was now done.

“It's beautiful,” you murmured, a wistful smile on your face as you turned to him. Billy had confessed to you that he wasn't a huge fan of Christmas. He, just like you, hadn't had one growing up really and then he’d found Frank and the Castles. The Christmases with them had been something else and after they died, he never wanted to have another Christmas. You had a feeling it had also been hard for Frank. You hadn't been sure why they’d changed their mind this year until Billy told you that he wanted you to experience the magic that he had with the Castles, that you deserved it. And you had a sneaky feeling Frank was thinking something similar to Karen, although she most likely had some experience with the whole Christmas thing.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied softly, cupping your cheek as your hands bunched into his t-shirt. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, melting into him the same as you always did. When he pulled away, his dark brown eyes were warm as he gazed at you and his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly. You felt the butterflies swarming your stomach as you smiled up at him. No matter how many times he’d said it, you’d never get used to it.

“I love you too,” you smiled, leaning up to give him another kiss.

Things with you and Billy hadn't been plain sailing. You were new to any type of relationship and he was new to one like this and you both still had issues. His head still wasn’t quite right and you didn't think it ever would be after the trauma it had suffered and you had a temper. There had been a few explosive fights with you, when Billy was being unreasonable or overbearing and you couldn't hack it. After being on your own for so long there was no way you’d sit there and take orders. The pair of you could be stubborn but with time, you’d learnt to be better at the relationship. Learned to give and take. You both struggled to admit when you were in the wrong, but knowing how much you could hurt each other usually made you both humble up pretty quickly. You hated when you said something hurtful and you’d see his face fall, hurt flashing behind his eyes, and you knew he felt the same about you. The fights had become less frequent with each passing month and things had settled down nicely. The fights would no longer be drawn out for days as you both refused to back down and only made things worse and instead, whoever was in the wrong would sheepishly approach the other to apologize. And you both weren't assholes about either. You didn't prolong the argument by refusing the apology. Neither of you got any joy when you fought. 

You moved away from Billy, walking over to where your polaroid camera was sitting on the table. It had been an early Christmas present off Micro since he wouldn't be there for Christmas, instead spending it with his family. He’d given it to you two weeks prior when you last saw him, telling you he was too excited to wait closer to Christmas to give it to you. You’d accidentally discovered your love for photography when he’d let you use one of his cameras and he’d told you once that you seemed to be able to capture the beauty in anything, especially in the city you were so fond of. He had a collection of cameras and you’d been fascinated by the polaroid as it printed the picture instantly. There was something special about the fact the picture couldn't be edited or changed, that you had one chance to get the shot you wanted. Because nothing was perfect and capturing that was what you loved best. You’d been overjoyed and moved beyond words by his gift and you’d made good use of it. You swiped it off the table, aiming it at the beautifully decorated tree. You snapped a picture of it, setting it on the table to develop as you took a few more of the recruits decorating and laughing with each other, a cute candid of Frank and Karen snuggling on one of the many beat-up second-hand sofas that were now here. The place had changed so much since you’d first come here. It no longer just felt like a base of operations where a bunch of people were staying, but it felt more like a home. There was even a little recreational area on the first floor too now.

“I like that one,” Billy hummed from over your shoulder, looking down at the one of Frank and Karen in your hand as it fully developed. 

“Should I put it on the wall”? You asked, looking at him curiously. His lips curled into a smirk as he kissed the side of your head. He took the picture from you and you followed him as he went to the wall near the rec area, tacking the picture up with all of the many you’d put up there. Everyone seemed to enjoy that wall and would often come to look at it, sometimes finding one of themselves they hadn't even realized you’d taken. Billy had been a little harder to capture at first. He’d point-blank refused to be photographed because of his face. You’d tried your best in your time with him to reassure him, to show him you loved him no matter if he had scars. You felt that it had helped as slowly over the two weeks that you’d had the camera, he’d started to allow you to take pictures of him. You wanted him to see the beauty that you saw in him too.

Later that night, everyone was hanging out on the lower floor just having a fun and relaxed Christmas eve. A group of you were sitting on or around the sofas as you all played charades and you found it hilarious how competitive Frank and Billy could be and how they’d get annoyed with each other. Billy was the one up and you were sitting on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, courtesy of Annie who had made everyone one with some whipped cream and marshmallows. Some people had a splash of alcohol in theirs but you’d abstained.

“Movie title,” Frank asserted eagerly as Billy made a gesture. Frank was sitting on the edge of a sofa as Karen smirked at him. You still weren't even sure how to play the game but you found the whole thing amusing. Billy held up two fingers and Frank called out ‘two words’ and Karen snorted loudly into her cup. 

“First word, okay,” Frank muttered after Billy held up one finger. 

“Kill!” Frank barked after Billy made a motion like he was slitting his own throat. He shook his head, giving Frank an annoyed look and he’d only just started. 

“Dead! Murder!” Frank kept shouting out words and you slurped your hot chocolate and tried not to laugh at how eager he was about it all. Billy growled, looking ready to throttle him. He held up two fingers then and from what little you’d learned from watching them play, he’d decided to move on to the second word instead. He gestured to his crotch and you raised a curious brow as Frank looked stumped.

“Cock?! Dick?!” He yelled, Billy shaking his head every time and you almost choked on your drink as Karen started laughing. You couldn't believe how seriously they were taking it. Billy lay his hand over his crotch again before raising his hand, quirking a brow at Frank like it was obvious.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?!” Frank growled, only serving to make you and Karen laugh more and you weren't the only ones as everyone in hearing vicinity was finding it amusing.

“Goddamn it, Frankie! I was Die Hard, you fuckin’ moron!” Billy shouted, a vein in his neck bulging as he gave Frank a scathing look. 

“How was I supposed to guess that with that bullshit?” Frank huffed as he shook his head. 

“It was kind of obvious,” Karen murmured with a cheeky grin. Frank turned to her looking offended.

“You could have helped me,” he griped petulantly and she shot him a smirk.

“I’m not on your team, why would I do that?” she snorted.

“And you call yourself a Bruce Willis fan,” Billy scoffed, still glaring at Frank for letting the team down.

“When did I say that?” Frank asked, squinting at him slightly.

“Didn't have to. Was kinda obvious when you carried a picture of him overseas,” Billy smirked mockingly at him, making Frank gape at him.

“Like hell I did!” he yelled, standing up as he and Billy moved to stand toe to toe with each other, Billy’s eyes lighting up like he loved the prospect of a fight.

“Alright you two, sit your asses down,” Karen grinned, shaking her head as she shoved Billy over to you and Frank back in his seat. Billy was grumbling to himself as he sat with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You all stayed there for a bit longer watching some others play, it being a lot safer when Billy and Frank weren’t up and with their constant bitching at each other. 

“Should we give Frank and Karen their gift now?” Billy asked quietly from next to you. You looked at him, excitement radiating from every pore in your body. You’d been so excited about this that you’d pestered Billy to let you give it to them early. Seeing you practically wriggling where you sat with eager eyes, he chuckled before standing up, you following suit. 

“Hey, you guys got a minute?” Billy asked, tapping Frank on the shoulder as he interrupted their conversation. Billy moved over to where you were hovering, biting your lip to stop the smile from splitting your face as they walked over.

“What's up?” Karen asked, looking a little worried.

“Me and Y/N wanted to give you your present early,” Billy explained with a smirk, Karen and Frank glanced at each other for a moment before back at the pair of you.

“You sure? We can wait-” Frank started but you cut him right off.

“You’re not waiting! Come on!” you whined impatiently, earning a snort from Billy.

“Gotta come up and get it,” Billy grinned. They followed you both up the stairs, you and Billy sharing shit-eating grins as you got to your floor. But instead of going to the room you shared with Billy, you stopped outside of your old room. When you’d started to stay the night with him, it had been in his room and when you eventually moved in, neither of you really spoke about you having your own room as it felt pointless. Billy gestured with his head for Frank to open the door and he shot Karen a wary look before he pushed it open, walking inside with Karen towing behind him. You felt like you were vibrating you were so excited, you hadn't stopped being excited since Karen had told you the news a month before. It had been your idea and Billy had loved it. 

“Oh my god!” Karen cried out as you and Billy filed in after them. Your old room was now a rainbow-themed nursery, complete with a crib and all the furniture new parents would need and a bunch of stuffed animals. Karen was tearful, one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach as she soaked it all in and Frank was blinking rapidly as he looked around. He turned to you and Billy then with a meaningful look on his face.

“You didn't have to do this,” he murmured, his voice sounding raw. 

“We wanted to,” you replied softly, giving him a smile.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, Frankie, no matter what it is you need,” Billy’s voice was thick with emotion and you knew this whole thing had been tough for both of them after the loss of Frank’s family. Frank sniffled with a smile, moving to grab Billy in a long hug as they muttered something to each other you couldn't make out. Karen took your hand, tears down her cheeks.

“Thank you, I love it,” she said sincerely, trying to muster up a smile for you. You squeezed her hand as you smiled back with a nod.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied. She moved to hug Billy then and Frank rested his hand on your shoulder.

“I really appreciate this, we both do,” he muttered firmly, leveling a look at you that told you just how much he meant his words. The four of you hung out a little bit in the new nursery as Karen and Frank really took in everything they had now for the new baby. After a while, you and Billy decided to head to bed and Karen and Frank went back downstairs, not ready to turn in for the night. You were over the moon they liked their gift and you couldn't wait for the baby to be born. You’d never had family or friends to experience this with before and you found the whole thing exciting. 

When you and Billy got to your room, you stripped out of your clothes and changed into your pajamas, which were essentially just a t-shirt of Billy’s and some panties. You climbed into bed with a yawn before Billy, who was only in his boxers, got in beside you. 

“You excited for your first Christmas?” he asked softly, rolling to face you. You copied him, now facing him and smiling when he tucked your hair behind your ear sweetly. 

“I am, I’ve already been enjoying the festivities,” you grinned, making him smile. He leaned over, kissing you softly but it quickly became heated as he rolled on top of you. You felt desire shoot through you like an electric current as he pressed himself against you, moaning into the kiss and getting a moan from him in response. Things on the sexual side had been slow at first with Billy, given your history and lack of experience. It had taken you four months to feel ready to take that leap and he hadn't put any pressure on you. Not even letting his hands wander when you made out like a pair of horny teenagers so he didn't make you think he was pushing you. You were grateful for him to let you take the lead, to let him know when you were ready. And after four months, you had been. You had no idea how to initiate it though since you’d never done anything before and your times with Josh had you lying there like a lifeless doll. And being as blunt as you were and seeing no sense in dancing around it, you’d just told him how you felt. You told him you wanted to take the next step but had no idea what you were doing. He didn't make you feel stupid or embarrassed about it either. He was kind and caring as he guided you through everything as you learned to explore sex with him. Something that had once been negative to you quickly became something positive and you’d even tried some things with him you never thought you’d be into. Trusting him as much as you did, you never felt embarrassed about trying things with him as you learned about yourself in a way you’d never had the chance to before. 

His kiss was bruising and you lost yourself in it. You never knew which Billy you would get in bed, soft and slow or hard and rough, but that was half the fun. It usually depended on his mood and you were happy to go along with whatever because you liked it either way. A fun perk of having your explosive arguments would be the just as explosive make-up sex. He slipped his hand into your panties and started circling your clit with ease, making you gasp and he moaned against your lips. He had you writhing against his hand in no time, panting into the kisses he was showering you with. But then he moved away, tugging the shirt off you impatiently and pulling your panties down. He rid himself of his boxers before lining himself up for you, not feeling up to much foreplay tonight it seemed as he sheathed into you in one fluid motion. Your moans mingled together and he propped himself up with one arm beside your head as the other grabbed your thigh, hitching it up a little. He started thrusting into you, not quite fast but not slow either and you arched up to meet each thrust. The hand on your thigh slid up and then around to your lower back, angling your hips in a way that had a loud moan erupting from you. He kissed you desperately, your bodies entwined together and you felt the pleasure gripping you like a vice. He moved to kneel up then, his hands trailing over your breasts as he palmed them, his thrusts slowing for a moment. It was like the calm before the storm before his hands gripped your hips tightly and he started fucking into you roughly. Your moans got louder and more desperate, your hands coming above your head to the headboard, needing to find purchase on something as your body jostled with the movement. Each thrust felt like it had the air being forced out of your lungs in a needy moan. You felt your pleasure increasing, your body tingling all over as you listened to his groans, watched his face contorted in pleasure with his mouth slightly open and his eyes screwed shut. 

“Billy,” his name tumbled off your lips like a fervent prayer and he let out a dirty moan that almost pushed you right over the edge. He was over you again in a second, his mouth claiming yours roughly as he kept his punishing pace with you. You could barely kiss him back in your delirium, moaning wantonly into his mouth as your back bowed up off the bed. It felt like you exploded into a million tiny fragments as your release washed over you. He moaned sinfully against your lips, thrusting into you a few more times before he came with a harsh and rough groan. 

The pair of you lay there panting for a moment, his forehead resting on yours as you came down from your high. But then he was giving you a dopey smile, kissing your lips tenderly. You hummed softly into the kiss and when he pulled out of you, you felt the loss instantly. He flopped onto his back looking tired and you wasted no time in rolling over, laying your head on his chest. His arms came around you with no hesitation, one of his hands going to your hair as he stroked it softly. 

“I love you,” you mumbled tiredly into his chest. He pressed his lips to your head for a moment, his arms around you tightening.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, making you smile against him as your eyes fluttered shut.

The next morning, you shuffled down the stairs sleepily with Billy by your side and a wrapped present in your hand. You’d been woken by Frank telling you both to get your asses downstairs. It had resulted in the sibling-like bickering you’d grown to be fond of between Billy and Frank since he’d walked right in and you had only a sheet for your modesty. But Frank had pointed out that Billy had walked in on him and Karen plenty of times. As you got into the main area, you saw a mountain of presents and smiled to yourself, seeing everyone milling around, eating breakfast or just hanging out near the big tree. Billy still had some of his money left over from his Anvil days, although it was slowly dwindling with no income to replace it and he was trying to be more careful with it. But he wanted to make sure every single recruit got a gift from him and Frank to show them they were appreciated. They’d sent Karen off with her investigative experience to figure out what to get everyone. All the presents were wrapped and had tags on and you wondered who the hell had managed that feat, having a feeling it was probably the machine also known as Karen. You spent the morning drinking coffee and nibbling croissants as you watched all of the recruits open their gifts. There was a warmth in your chest that seemed to be settled there, not moving since you’d come downstairs. Karen and Frank came over to where you and Billy were then, two wrapped presents in their hands.

“These are you for,” Karen murmured, handing you one as Frank handed Billy the other. You gave them a shy smile before you started to peel the perfectly wrapped paper and when you were done, you grinned. It was a beautiful dark brown coat with cream fur trim, some embroidered flowers along the bottom of it. It looked like it would fall past your hips. It had a retro vibe about it that you loved and you felt touched as your fingers danced along the fur.

“Thank you guys,” you said softly, beaming up at them. You didn't have a coat, you’d never bothered to get one and you didn't like the idea of Billy buying you one when you knew he was basically funding this place from the only money he had. You’d been using spare coats that were hung in a closet. 

“I thought of you as soon as I saw it,” Karen grinned, looking happy you liked it.

“Holy shit,” Billy breathed from next to you, sounding in awe. You turned to look at him to see a large knife in his hands, all black with a fancy-looking handle. He twirled it expertly before he shot you a dirty smirk and you felt your cheeks burn as you looked away quickly. While you had a distaste for violence, you found out only the week prior that you were pretty fond of Billy wielding a knife in the bedroom. You’d really surprised yourself with that one. 

“I fuckin’ love this,” Billy laughed, a bright smile on his face before he stood and grabbed Frank in a tight hug. Frank clapped him on the back before he moved away, eyeing the knife a little warily and you snorted. Billy then moved to hug Karen and you stood too. You still weren't much of a hugger with anyone other than Billy but you were slowly getting used to it and after the gift they’d just gotten you, you felt like it was a good moment. With Karen busy with Billy, Frank smiled warmly at you, moving over to grab you in a hug. He squeezed you a little before moving away.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” he murmured, making your throat feel a little tight. Karen wrapped her arms around you then, her hug a little longer than Franks. 

“Merry Christmas,” she smiled, pulling away. You felt a little overwhelmed and always conscious of your needs and knowing how you were feeling, Billy thanked them once again before moving you to sit once more. 

You and Billy sat there for a little longer, snuggled up together as you just enjoyed watching everyone have a good time. You kept wondering when you should give Billy his gift but he hadn’t mentioned anything yet and you were a little nervous so you just happily cuddled into him for a while. 

“Come on,” Billy murmured after a bit, pulling you up from your seat.

“Where are we going?” you asked, blinking up at him.

“The roof, get your coat,” he flashed you a smile and you grabbed his wrapped present before you grabbed your new coat, smiling to yourself as you put it on. It was so warm and cozy, you loved it. Billy grabbed his own coat, matching you slightly with the small amount of fur on his collar and you watched him as he tugged the hood from his hoodie out of it. He took your hand as he led you up to the roof. You’d both created a little area up here, like a little safe space just for you two. It had a sofa and a small table, some lights too. In the warmer months, you’d even camped up here much like he had set up for you the night before the Irish mob got wiped out and you loved it. The only thing you missed about being out here as you slept was being under the stars. You both walked to the sofa and sat down and you felt anxiety thrumming through you about your gift. You had no idea if he’d like it or not and with his moods, sometimes it was hard to predict how he might react. You wanted to get it out of the way so you handed him his gift first with a hesitant smile. He took it, slowly unwrapping it as your eyes stayed glued on his face for even the smallest of reactions. If things went south, you weren't above grabbing it off him and running back downstairs. Once opened, he was faced with a black velvet scrapbook and he raised a brow at you.

“Open it,” you encouraged, a nervous smile on your face as he did as you asked. There were pages of various pictures of people he cared about. Frank, Karen, Curtis and Micro. Some of the recruits doing drills or just hanging out. There were even a couple of the Castles that Frank had given you when you told him what your present idea had been. Billy swallowed thickly as he turned page after page, taking it all in and getting noticeably emotional whenever he saw one of the Castle’s.

As the pages drew on, he started to be included in the pictures. One’s of him and Frank or him and Curtis or Micro, some of them altogether. Most of them were candid pictures given he didn't like posing for pictures and there was a sweet one of him giving Karen a hug from her birthday that year. The next page was filled with just pictures of him, all of them candid and he had no idea you’d taken and this was the part you were worried about the most. You knew how self-conscious he was, knew his aversion to having pictures taken, so you hoped he wouldn't be upset by it. There were pictures of him training or running drills, some of him cleaning his guns or knives. Various candid shots of him smiling or laughing as he spoke to someone but you managed to just get him in the shot. There was even one of him sleeping, looking peaceful and serene. He didn't look at you as he took it all in, his Adam's apple bobbing as his dark eyes swept over all the pictures of himself. He turned the page and was greeted with the last two pages that were full, you’d left some empty to add to later, and it was full of the pair of you. He only ever allowed you to take pictures of him if he was with you and you had a good number of them. Cheesy shots with a bright grin on your face, ones you’d taken after saying something to purposely make him laugh. There was one of the pair of you lying in bed together looking incredibly rumpled with sleepy smiles on your faces. There were even a few you hadn't taken yourself but Karen had. Some candids of the pair of you she’d decided to take since she knew what your plan had been. And you were grateful for them, you loved them the most. One of you sitting on Billy’s lap on the sofa, the pair of you smiling at each other. One of you laughing together and another of him training you in basic self-defense. There was one of you clinging to him after he’d come back from a job, his hand in your hair with his eyes closed, a relieved smile on his face. There was even one Karen had taken of when Billy had purposely made you walk under some mistletoe with him just two days before and then kissed you.

 

Billy was uncharacteristically silent as he looked at them all and you toyed with your hands restlessly, unsure if he liked it or was upset with you. 

“Do you like it?” you asked quietly, dread coating your tone as he just sat there staring for what felt like forever.

“I uh…” his voice cracked and he clamped his mouth shut for a moment before taking a steadying breath. You noticed then how shiny his eyes were as he looked right at you. You felt breathless at the sight.

“I love it. I don't even… I never thought I’d like lookin’ at pictures of myself again. But this is… it’s amazing. Micro was right, you really do capture the beauty in anything,” he murmured, his voice wavering a little. He reached out and clutched your hand, your body relaxing infinitely knowing he liked it. It touched you that he was moved so much by it. That it meant so much to him, as much as it meant to you when you put it together.

“It’s not hard to capture beauty in something already so beautiful,” you replied, a loving smile on your face. His eyes softened as he brought your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on it before he tugged you. You wound up straddling him and his hands slipped inside your coat, settling on your hips. 

“Thank you. It's the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said sincerely, squeezing your hips a little. You felt your cheeks heat up a little as you smiled down at him, your hand coming to toy with the short hair at the base of his skull.

“I was worried you wouldn't like it. It meant a lot to me, putting it together. It's special… you're special,” you breathed, gazing down at him. His lips curled into a smile, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck as he pulled you down for a kiss. He seemed to pour his gratitude into the kiss and when you pulled away, you felt lightheaded. 

“Time for your present,” he smirked, but it seemed a little off. Tense somehow. It took you a moment to realize he was nervous too and it was slightly endearing that you hadn't been the only one worried. He pulled something out of his coat pocket before holding it in front of him. It was a small black box and he toyed with it for a moment, eyes darting from you to the box before back at you. He didn't say anything as he cracked it open and revealed a beautiful silver ring. There was a large diamond in the middle and two sapphire stones on either side. You blinked down at the very expensive looking gift for a moment, unsure what to say.

“It doesn't haveta mean anything. It- It could just be a… a pretty ring you wear,” he started, unable to look at you as he shook his head.

“What do you want it to mean?” you asked slowly, unsure where he was going with this and his weird presentation of the ring to you. He took the ring out of the box, setting the box on the sofa beside you, still not looking at you as he stared at it.

“I’d ask you to… to marry me, but uh… I’m a wanted fugitive so I don't see us… don’t see us walking down the aisle anytime soon,” he muttered with a chuckle, seeming unsure of himself. His words stole the breath from your lungs and your heart started beating like a hummingbird's wings in your chest. He looked up at you then, his dark eyes boring right into yours for a moment and suddenly, it seemed like his nerves melted away from him.

“I want it to mean that I love you. That I want forever with you. It means… It means that I-I found all I ever needed right here with you. It means that when I’m with you… the world just… it stops turnin’. Nothin’ else matters when I’m with you. All the bullshit I’ve been through, all the pain and loss and hurt… none of it matters. It means that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how long that might be and I don’t need no damn papers to make it real,” he implored firmly, his eyes boring into you. You blinked at him for a long moment, brain trying to wrap around that he was essentially asking you to marry him. Your chest ached with the happiness you felt and you felt your eyes start to sting but you tried to push the tears away. You were rendered mute for a moment in your shock and awe and he looked back to the ring looking uncertain of himself. You cleared your throat, sniffling a little as you held your hand out.

“Are you going to put it on then?” you asked wryly, the emotion in your voice betraying how touched you were by his words and gesture. His eyes snapped back to you then looking almost surprised by your reaction.

“You're… you’re sayin’ yes?” he asked hesitantly. Your face broke into a grin and you wiped a stray tear that had escaped that was rolling down your cheek.

“Of course I am, did you really think I’d say no?” you asked with a snort. The smile that split his face was blinding and made you feel like he’d just shoved you off the roof. He took your hand in his, carefully sliding the ring on your finger. 

"I love you," he murmured, smiling at you.

“I love you too,” you grinned, leaning down and kissing him sweetly. He wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back and suddenly, he’d shifted you and your back hit the sofa with him on top of you. He shot you a devilish smirk and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“It’s too cold for that up here,” you snorted.

“I got ways to warm you up, sweetheart,” he teased with a grin before leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

The weight of the ring felt heavy around your finger but it wasn't a negative feeling, it was comforting. You’d grown up being unloved by the people who were supposed to care the most, spent the rest of your life being forgotten by society and shunned for circumstances beyond your control. All your life you’d been shown you were worthless and not worth loving. That you were damaged and you’d declared yourself as too broken to be fixed, passed the point of saving. And then you’d found Billy. He’d slowly put the pieces of you back together as you healed. You weren't perfect, but he treated you like the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold. You’d forever have imperfections and flaws from the life you’d had before, but he sealed every fracture with love and affection that was changing you into a better version of yourself and you hoped you did the same for him. Alone you were both broken, but together, you were now whole. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

#billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine

[acourtofthought]

Who is guilty of considering the novella a cute little Hallmark Christmas special?

That would definitely be me 🙈

I don't think I ever really read it, I mostly skimmed for Feysand scenes during my first read through and have used it to search for Elucien / Elain / Lucien parts since then (occasionally catching moments involving the others).

But I finally did today and I was shocked with how much information it seems SJM is giving us for the future of the series.

I've always argued in favor of Elucien's book being next and the novella left me feeling like it's still a very real possibility even though there are hints of future storylines for all the characters.

The following paragraph seems like it could set up Azriel’s story and it makes sense when you consider that his biggest obstacle is overcoming his issues with the Illyrians:

Perhaps we needed a permanent presence out here, until the Illyrians remembered things like consequences. But the war had impacted us all, and with the rebuilding, with the human territories crawling out to meet us, with other Fae kingdoms looking toward a wall-less world and wondering what shit they could get away with … We didn’t have the resources to station someone out here. Not yet. Perhaps next summer, if the climate elsewhere was calm enough.

Yes, a presence here was needed. But later.

He would be the perfect character for Rhys to assign as that permanent presence (which Az will riot over, no doubt, however Rhys loves putting everyone in places they don't want to be only to have it be the best thing for them in the end). But it doesn't sound like we're ready for his book just yet.

"if the climate elsewhere was calm enough". "Yes, a presence here was needed. But later."

The Illyrian storyline didn't happen in Nessian's book because "the climate elsewhere" is still not calm enough.

Things currently affecting the climate (not the weather kind 😂):

(1) Mor felt more than saw Feyre stiffen beside her at something Eris had said. Her High Lady answered Eris, “Your father is forbidden to cross into the human lands.” No room for compromise with that tone, with the steel in Feyre’s eyes. Eris only shrugged. “I don’t think it’s your call.” Rhys slid his hands into his pockets, the portrait of casual grace. Yet the shadows and star-flecked darkness that wafted from him, that set the mountain shuddering beneath his every step—that was the true face of the High Lord of the Night Court. The most powerful High Lord in history. “I would suggest reminding Beron that territory expansion is not on the table. For any court.” Eris wasn’t fazed. Nothing had ever disturbed him, ruffled him. Mor had hated it from the moment she’d met him—that distance, that coldness. That lack of interest or feeling for the world. “Then I would suggest to you, High Lord, that you speak to your dear friend Tamlin about it.”. “Why.” Feyre’s question was sharp as a blade. Eris’s mouth curved in an adder’s smile. “Because Tamlin’s territory is the only one that borders the human lands. I’d think that anyone looking to expand would have to go through the Spring Court first. Or at least obtain his permission.”

Rhys’s cold face turned contemplative, though. She could easily read the reluctance in his eyes, the annoyance at having Eris tip him off, but information was information.

As if he’d known that sleep had been futile for me last night after Eris’s not-so-subtle warning about Tamlin and his borders.

(2) “I am not going to disband the Illyrians. There is nowhere for them to go, anyway. And if we try to drag them out of those mountains, they might launch the very assault we’re trying to defuse.” Az said nothing. “But perhaps more pressing,” I went on, jabbing a finger on the sprawling continent, “is the fact that the human queens have not returned to their own territories. Beyond that, Hybern’s general populace is not too thrilled to have lost this war. And with the wall gone, who knows what other Fae territories might make a grab for human lands?” My jaw tightened at that last one. “This peace is tenuous.”

(Rhys and Az are talking about the issues with the Illyrians but he notes that even more pressing than their issues with the Illyrians is their issues with the Queens on the continent and other territories).

(3) If we sweep in, even to stop them from triggering another war, we’ll be seen as conquerors, not heroes. We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.”

“Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them. While Vassa is free to do so.”

(1.1) Azriel arched a brow. “You mean to visit the Spring Court?” I wished I could say otherwise. But I instead told him what Eris had implied: that Tamlin either might not care to enforce his borders with the human realm or might be open to letting anyone through them. I doubted I’d get a decent night’s rest until I found out for myself.

Rhys to Tamlin: “And,” I went on, “she was as disturbed as I was to learn that your borders are not as enforced as we’d hoped.”

SJM is again drawing attention to the fact that Rhys is extremely worried over the thought of Tamlin not enforcing his borders, to the point that he's lost sleep over it. And as we find out later in the novella and Silver Flames, Tamlin has still not been enforcing his borders (also, his military forces aren't where they need them to be) and he's not any closer to getting to the point where he will. In SF, the action they take in response to all of that is to station Lucien there to be their eyes and ears and contain any damage because it's such a pressing concern.

So that makes three major issues affecting their climate outside of the NC. The problem with the human queens (only Briallyn was dealt with in SF so the others remain) and territories on the continent, their need for the humans to trust them, and the fact that Springs borders are not being enforced which is a concern because of Berons (and the other territories) desire to expand.

Every single one of those concerns is strongly connected to Elain and Lucien. Spring / Beron because of Lucien's connection to them both and the hints of Elain in Spring. Building trust with the humans which is very Lucien-centric at the moment as he's living with Jurian and Vassa and has helped them rebuild and sort out their politics. The queens across the sea, who Vassa (housemates with Lucien) has a vendetta against because they sold her out to Koschei. Not that the BOE would defeat them all however I imagine there will be conflict. The concern that other Fae territories will try to push into the human lands (Lucien connection again). And Elain is connected to those things through her visions, her past with Graysen and the humans, and Nesta (in SF) reminding us that Elain had always wanted to travel to the continent.

I found another possible Az storyline. I think he'll be the one to hunt down Bryaxis:

“No word on Bryaxis, I take it.”

Az studied the floor as well. “Not a whisper. Or a scream, for that matter.”

I’d planned to hunt Bryaxis down for months now—to take Feyre and let her track down the entity that, for lack of a better explanation, seemed to be fear itself. But, as with so many of my plans for my mate, running this court and figuring out the world beyond it had gotten in the way.

“Do you want me to hunt it down?” An easy, unruffled question. I waved a hand, my mating band catching in the morning light. That I hadn’t heard from Feyre yet told me enough: still asleep. And as tempting as it was to wake her just to hear the sound of her voice, I had little desire to have my balls nailed to the wall for disrupting her sleep. “Let Bryaxis enjoy the Solstice as well,” I said.

I think Az facing off with a creature who is "fear itself" would he amazing considering we'd get a glimpse into the darkest, scariest corners of Az's mind. But again, it doesn't seem to be a pressing concern at the moment.

There's a lot going on in these spin-off books and even more has been thrown in to the mix since SF and the crossover but when SJM made a few mentions of the most pressing issues that were at the forefront of Rhys’s mind, I can't stop myself from thinking Elucien being next is a strong contender.

#elucien #pro elucien #acotar 5 #acotar theory #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #azriel acotar #acofas

[sheepishmastectomy]

so i can't sleep and i'm thinking about green arrow (1988) which i'm slowly working through & i wanna talk about dinah lance i'm sure other people have written this essay better and more thoughtfully than i will but the search feature on this site is garbage and all the reddits are down justifiably protesting the api shit so here goes

I can see what the author was initially trying to do, when he had Oliver kidnapped and tortured & Dinah rescued him. This was intended to parallel the traumatic incident Dinah experienced in The Longbow Hunters (which I have not read), which she was recovering from at the start of Green Arrow (1988). This is made obvious by the way Oliver was kidnapped, the attack, Dinah killing to save him (I believe? This was unclear to me), and the utilization of the same therapist. He deals with his trauma mostly in issue 33

However, the writer bungled this plotline in a variety of ways. I'm going to start with what I think is less obvious-- while Oliver deals with the trauma & it is very much about him, ultimately both attacks end up having an immense effect on Dinah. Oliver continues on after all of this goes down and is immediately distracted by being screwed over by the US government and then fucking off on a vision quest for a year. The trauma he experienced isn't allowed to have a lasting effect upon him & is instead transmuted into more trauma inflicted upon Dinah.

The arc that Dinah undergoes here does her a great disservice. I understand the story beats they were hitting here, but having her change her mind regarding having children for the very reasons she gave for not wanting them in the first place is mind-boggling. She goes from 'if you die, you will leave an orphan behind, and that's unacceptable-- we shouldn't have children if we're going to be irresponsible with our lives as vigilantes' to 'if you die, you will not leave an orphan behind, and i'll be so sad and lonely, so i need your child'. I get that Ollie was 'uniquely vulnerable' here, but having her reverse course when they have BOTH had countless life threatening experiences doesn't make any sense.

the way they portray it, too, like ollie's FINALLY getting everything he wanted because he just suffered enough in front of dinah-- like this is some big reward for him. (I hate the doorknob thing that recurs throughout the issue)

And then, OF COURSE, they spin this into a fucking infertility arc. Because they're brave enough to screw with her convictions, but they aren't brave enough to show the follow through-- instead they'll hold up Shado as an example of fertility, or whatever-- the woman who was pregnant and gave birth off screen, where she couldn't be unnattractive. Let alone all of the issues with Shado, who deserves so much better than she's been getting-- did they realize how weird it sounds for this super talented Japanese Archeress to be soooo overcome by sadness that she might have gotten Ollie killed that she just had to fuck him (I'm not dignifying the authors justification that this was sexual assault while Ollie was insensate because that was a cheap tactic deployed to absolve Ollie of guilt and wrongdoing in this instance-- he gets to have 'ninja babies' without having cheated on his girlfriend or even chosen to have sex… okay)

(the loss echoes here... lmao)

(dinah has this conversation outside in her underwear for... some fucking reason? i hate it here)

But transforming the trauma of this whole mess into fucking baby fever really pissed me off. There's been quite a few things the authors haven't handled well, but this was??? Rather than have them really and truly process their mirrored traumas and allow them to grieve in ways authentic to their characters, they twist Dinah into this tired infertile woman plot. It feels needlessly cruel-- she didn't want children but now abruptly she does (because you the author decided this) and then she has that yanked out from under her by an injury she apparently never realized was so serious (again because you the author decided this). It feels like she's being punished for ever daring to want to be childfree and responsible, instead of immediately falling over herself to incubate when her male partner wanted a baby.

I'm not even going to get into how when she was left alone by Ollie for a year after that, she waited for him and didn't date or anything. She finally, FINALLY went on a date with a guy & Ollie showed up right then and she kissed him right there??? They fucked immediately??? It's like she lost everything inside to be the perfect little fucktoy for our male lead. (and her cop boyfriend was secretly evil (read doing the same shit she and oliver do all the time) and also killed himself within days of ollie getting back into town so he wouldn't be in the way lmao)

The author responding to the letter columns spent a lot of time justifying his decisions when the debates occurred on them there, but it feels like he over identified with Oliver and made Dinah into a gratification vehicle above all else. Very frustrating given that she was handled fairly well up to that point??? Guess I should've seen the storm brewing with the Shado writing (once again, she deserves SO much better than she gets)

#green arrow (1988) #dinah lance #black canary #green arrow

[zerobaseonefics]

tw: rape, attempt and idk what else??

so basically my depression worsened and i had an attempt on wednesday, this week. school is too much already and it barely started, my whole family is a problem and my friends(?) are making jokes about me which i find somehow funny but it also hurts me

my family is talking about how my breasts grow so fast and how they are bigger than most of the women in my family and even men are saying this which makes me uncomfortable… my parents also keep telling me if i keep misbehaving (sleeping when its daytime) i will be sent to my family in vietnam (im not that close with them because theyre pretty much aggressive and i’m bad at speaking vietnamese, they can’t speak polish, so it’s hard to communicate)

the jokes my friends(?) make are about how a guy almost raped me but i managed to push him off of me.. the jokes are like “omg youre like literally our hulk” etc. // i do find the jokes funny sometimes but then i think about the time it happened and i feel grossed out by myself and feel like crying

also all the panic attacks i had in the recent weeks are all too much.. and it’s too much pressure thinking about everything at once, i just can’t sort it out in my head

even tho my problems may not be that serious, i still can’t handle them anymore. thank you for “listening”to me, i’m really thankful for you<33

~🤍

first of all, i know it's hard to keep that in mind sometimes, and that's why i want to remind you that you should never make a hierarchy of problems. your problems ARE serious, and you should not delegitimize them like that. your feelings are valid no matter what your issue is, if it makes you feel that way then there is a reason and it's your right to be hurt.

i'm genuinely pissed off hearing about the comments on your body from your family 💀 as i hit puberty very young, i also had that problem of adults making inappropriate remarks on it, and i know how it hurts and can mess with your self esteem and the way you feel in your body. avoid the people who make this kind of comments as much as you can. depending on the links you have with your family, try and tell them that it makes you uncomfortable. tell the women in your family especially that it's even worse when it's men and hopefully they will stand up for you if they ever tell you something about it in front of them. this is so annoying why do they care about your body like that 💀

about your friends and their jokes!! even if it can make you laugh sometimes, it's better to tell them straight that you don't like it. if you let them get away with it for too long, they might not understand why you're against it when you used to laught about it. maybe they don't mean any harm, but if they're actual good friends they'll respect you and stop with these jokes. if they are not, i guarantee you that you'll be better off without them. you're very strong, okay? what happened to you when you got assaulted is in no way your fault and it is not taking away your value. don't forget i call you pure >:(

as for the panick attacks, do you have any methods to calm them down?? as someone who suffers from it as well, i had a time when i was younger where they were very frequent. i have less now because i found some methods that help me calm down easier. if you can, press your back against something cold, a wall for example. if you're not alone, try to put your hand on a friend's chest to feel the way they are breathing and try to match your breathing with their. also, i have a friend who put their face in a huge bowl of water. try these next time you have a panick attack, and if doesn't work, look for other ones! there is surely one that will work for you.

i assume you're much younger than me so i will treat you as a little sibling and talk to you according to my experiences as someone who went through similar things as you. if you ever wanna talk about anything, i will always take my time to answer to you and try to give you advices. take care of you, you're valuable, and you should never hurt yourself <3 better days are surely waiting for you in the future, and it would be a shame to miss them, right?

please come back to me at least once a week so i can make sure you're doing good >:( take care, pure 🩶

[rahleeyah]

A response to the ‘friendly’ note (which actually comes across a little insulting but it’s hard to word these things, I’m aware of that). I do not think any less of Olivia for sleeping with someone else having met Elliot. He said it himself, she’s doing her job. It doesn’t make her ‘less’ or ‘not worthy’. The issue that I am struggling with is the consent one. Wheatley forced her hand by asking her in public when she couldn’t say no without losing face. She then had to keep her word or risk bringing trouble to her door. That, to me, is tantamount to rape. Olivia is unlikely to call it that (or maybe she will realise that at some point, I don’t know what Leah has planned), but to me, that is exactly what it is. Leah even answered in an another ask that Olivia didn’t want to have sex with him. How is that not some form of sexual assault? Bodily autonomy to me, is being both willing and wanting to do something. She might have been willing, but she didn’t want to, she was backed into a corner, which is what is making me so uncomfortable.

The question is: was Olivia really backed into a corner? Brian points out that she's turned down other customers before, and it's clear no one in the room actually likes Wheatley to begin with. Olivia admits that the risk of a war maybe isn't that great, and thinks about how even if it was the customers would be likely to defend her. Olivia is also flirting with a cop who has the ability to investigate Wheatley, she knows the time is close for the whole house of cards to come down and Wheatley isn't really in a position to have that much of an impact on her life. Olivia's thoughts during her and Brian's conversation also reveal that there is a part of Olivia that wants to accept, to prove to herself that she can, and when she was presented with an opportunity to put an end to it she didn't. We also know Olivia threw Wheatley out at midnight but we don't know (yet) if that's a normal part of the bargain, or if she decided to cut his time short. We know Olivia didn't want to have sex, but she wants the things that come along with it, the money and the return of her confidence and the feeling of having retaken control in some way, she wants them enough that she went through with it. And that is the sticking point that is creating the most tension here, I think, is that there are two different ways people are viewing that choice. There's a camp that believes bc she is getting things she wants out of this the whole deal is coercive and so not a true choice, and there is a camp that believes bc she had other options and continued down this path in order to get what she wants it was a true choice.

And I respect both sides of this argument, and I would like to take a moment to apologize. As much as I want to encourage conversations I do not want to be a conduit for anons to argue with one another. I should have thought it through before I posted the previous anon, and that one is on me, I made a mistake. I want y'all to have these conversations, but I want you to have them with each other, and not piecemeal thru me. I will not be responding to any further anons on this subject. If y'all want to talk, please talk in the notes, please make your own posts, please have those conversations.

#anonymous #e.o asks #s.vu

[theroadtofairyland]

All the suicide stuff was really worrisome. I hope you’re doing better 💕

I'm sorry. I was getting dogpiled. It was overlapping with what is my greatest fears. It was terrifying being homeless. It took 7 months to find a person who'd rent to me. I'd been declined over and over for less expensive places because I didn't have credit. It's worse now.

During that time I was assaulted, sexally and physically, robbed and it is so awful often not knowing where you are going to sleep.

The two overlapping...I just thought whatever chance I might have had was ruined by trolls telling some of my loyal supporters that I was a scammer who'd taken advantage of them. It couldn't be further from the truth but the ease that people accepted lies as fact shattered me.

Worse still people who said they support me kept telling me I needed to get a job. As if I don't have one already and people who do have jobs always make enough. Aside from being insulting and condescending it seemed like they didn't understand what they were actually saying. Give up art. Because no I can't paint and work 40 hours in addition. I've tried and I didn't paint for 3 years. Moreover one was a person whose personal blog revealed that she wanted to make art but there was zero evidence that she in fact did make art.

The prospects for my future have been imperiled, it felt like the community that had once embraced me as a valued artist had completely turned on me and I just couldn't anymore. My mom is here so I was dizzy on benadryl.

I had to face the next day which I didn't want to.

Isn't the whole point of this kind of cyberbulling, doxxing in an intentionally misleading manner intended to drive the victim to despair and it was done successfully.

I have been going through hell these last 5 years and some asshole writing me into an antagonistic fan fiction robbed me of my own story. I'm proud that I made it through. I'll be proud if I can make it through this. I'm also incredibly proud of my work. I'm proud of learning to make my own paints. It's beyond bizarre women who identify as feminists would want to lie and dismantle my reputation when one would think supporting more women artists should be a cornerstone of feminism in the arts.

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

A Crime In The Devildom (Obey Me!) part 7

Previous Part 6 here / next Part 8 here.

content: The assault on the House of Lamentation continues. Which means many a villain gets dealt with. Battle scenario, violence, blood, death. Yeah it's a massacre for the bad dudes so lots of squish.

Belphegor was pretty sure that both Lucifer and Satan had gone completely feral by now. Given how many explosions and screams were coming from the second floor of the House of Lamentation. Which made Belphegor less worried as he cast another fire spell. The dozen devil vipers that had charged at him bursting into flames to then turn to smoldering ashes in seconds. His gaze soon turning to Beelzebub as the Avatar of Gluttony finished with the giant black bear by ripping it clean in half. Beelzebub was already drenched in blood of various kinds to be making squelching sounds whenever he moved his feet. A rumble coming from deep in his stomach for Beelzebub to be frowning and growling ever time he exhaled. So it didn't surprise Belphegor when Beelzebub ripped a huge chunk of bear meat off the still twitching corpse to eat the meat in one bite. The two then looking to the ceiling when another loud shriek is immediately followed by dozens of bones snapping.

The twins have the forethought to step back and away as whatever just died crashes through the ceiling to land on the first floor. What looks to be a gargoyle laying in several pieces with a hole much like an impact crater in it's middle. Soon enough, Lucifer peers through the hole to not look the least bit harmed as Belphegor looks up at him. The Avatar of Pride soon asking, "Do we have any signs of there being summon circles in the house?" Belphegor shakes his head to then bash another devil viper on the wall and squish it's head. "I've been looking and there aren't any in the house. I'm guessing they got set up outside to then charge in through the windows and doors." Lucifer gives a huff to then snap his fingers to his right. Several more screams cutting through the air to then be silenced as he speaks. "Asmodeus has already gotten Leviathan onto the roof to see to washing away everything in the yard. I'm hopeful that will get rid of any summoning circles out there. I want one of you in the kitchen with Marzena."

Lucifer might have said more. But all of them still when a familiar roar sounds out from the catacombs below the house. Which has Lucifer jump down and zoom off to see to what exactly is making Cerberus so angry. So Belphegor grumbles to say, "Beel. Head upstairs and make sure Satan only rips apart the enemy and not the house. Please." Beelzebub frowns to then fly up through the hole as more roars and screams come from all around. Belphegor sending waves of sleep magic through the halls to ensure that whatever came at him fell harmlessly to the ground. His hands and feet making quick work of skulls or windpipes to ensure things stayed down after he passed them. His steps taking him back to the kitchen and to where Marzena is being kept safe.

Solomon doesn't look surprised when Belphegor walks into the kitchen. The Avatar of Sloth seeing Mammon to be more alert at how Mammon is soaked in blood and looking rather pale. So Belphegor hustles over to kneel down and place a hand to Mammon's shoulder. "Damn. You look like someone ran you over or something." Mammon flinches to then give a half smirk. "I got squished for both wings to come off. Marzena and Solomon glued them back on though. Just need a bit to bounce back." Belphegor winces to then turn and find that Marzena is currently boiling water in a pot. Her words harsh and fuming as she curses under her breath. But she soon has a bowl of hot water to kneel next to Mammon on his other side. "Belphie. Strip him so we can get that muck off him."

Belphegor doesn't argue the point to get Mammon's top off as well as his shoes. While Marzena just starts rubbing warm soaked rags on Mammon's arms and hands to get the blood off his skin. While Solomon finishes with writing out a complex spell pattern on a scroll to then sigh. "I think it best if someone clears out the halls and rooms on this floor. I just need to wait until-" As if on cue, the roar of Lotan and cascading waves of water sound out from the outside for more screams and roars to follow. A few loud magical pops audible enough for Solomon to smile and look quite pleased. "Ah! It would seem Leviathan and Asmodeus finished with their prep work. That means I can see to the first floor without worry of more coming in." So Solomon walks out of the kitchen for the sounds of pain and death to continue. Belphegor frowning to then look to Marzena as she keeps scrubbing Mammon's neck. The Avatar of Greed staying still for her as Belphie grumbled out loud. "Right. Nobody will be getting to the kitchen after all that. So let's get Mammon cleaned up and then we can see to whoever else got seriously hurt."

#obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me! fanfiction #obey me! fanfic #Obey Me! Shall We Date? #Obey Me: Shall We We Date? #Obey Me! One Master To Rule Them All #Obey Me: One Master To Rule Them All #fanfiction #fanfic

[theserpentsadvocate]

Unexpected Dividends

I really had no intention of getting into the nitty-gritty of Fred’s Auto Repair shop (except for the tagline, which I am very proud of), especially since I know nothing about cars at all, but, uh… apparently this needed to happen before I could get to all the things I actually planned. I also thought these would all be from Jade’s point of view, but I guess not. For the record, I do not have anything in particular against The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime.

Anyway, this is a direct sequel to Flipping The Script, but the other installments should be more stand-alone.

*

It was probably weird to run a to-do list for your boss in your head, but Eli had been doing it since his second month on the job, because Fred was competent, and reasonably organized, and obviously he was a hell of a mechanic, but his ability to prioritize was a little bit whacked out.

It usually went something like this:

Update the shop into the 90s. Not the present, just the 90s.

This was scratched off every month or so and re-entered, because Fred was afraid of computers.

Have the sign repainted; it’s not quaint, it’s tacky. If you won’t reconsider the slogan, at least make it legible.

Stop giving Luis so much to work on. He’s reliable, not fast.

Pay me more.

Hire more help.

There were other items that made it on, but most things only took a few nudges for Fred to see the benefit. Even he understood that customers liked it when the air conditioner worked.

Right now, the list was something like

Fire Mike.

No, seriously, fire Mike.

If you do not fire Mike, I will quit. (bluff)

Update the shop to the 90s. Not the present, just the 90s. A computer with customer information on it! It can duplicate the file cabinet and we’ll keep that too.

Have the sign repainted so it looks less than five hundred years old.

Stop giving Luis so much to work on, he can’t keep up.

Hire competent help.

Pay me more.

Reconsider the slogan. No one is being drawn in by ‘Fred’s Automotive Repair: We go FAR!’ Also, their car should be what’s going far.

If you do not fire Mike, I will quit. (for real)

and it was giving him a headache. Admittedly, the clenched jaw and the teeth grinding probably hadn’t helped with that, but he’d had the world’s most annoying cloud of passive aggression sniping at him for two days straight and leaving tools out, and now Mike was mysteriously missing his Saturday shift, like Fred couldn’t fire him if he wasn’t at work. Which was fine, obviously, because at least he wasn’t there, except that now the rest of them had to pick up the slack, and Fred might forget about the whole situation by Monday, because as far as interpersonal and disciplinary issues went, he was not the world’s most hands-on boss.

But he could get another couple thousand miles out of almost any vehicle, he wasn’t running a chop shop, and he didn’t care about past assault convictions. Eli also liked him, but that wasn’t nearly as pertinent most of the time.

And he reminded himself of those things repeatedly while he ran through the basic Saturday morning checklist. If he was already pissed off when Fred got in at nine thirty, it wouldn’t make things go over any easier. Tomorrow the garage was closed, and as long as he made it through the day without killing anybody (one thing Mike’s absence definitely made easier) he could spend the day… sleeping or something. Thinking about anything else. Doing three loads of laundry.

No prizes for guessing which one of those options would end up winning.

He should put another day off under pay me more. Working six days a week was good for his bank balance, but it was killing him a little. Just because Fred had pulled those hours most of his career didn’t mean it was exactly best practices.

The rumble of his boss’s pickup pulling in jerked Eli out of his thoughts, and he shelved that thought for later. Priority one – get that motherfucking bastard out from under his feet before he went back to prison for actual murder. Priority two – everything else.

Fred was set up in the tiny back office, as always, looking through the intake book and checking over the files for all the cars that had been finished in the last two days. There was probably a real name for all that kind of stuff, but Fred still used the weird-ass system he’d invented when he opened the place by himself in the 70s, and Angel hadn’t exactly kept thorough books.

“How was it?” he asked, as usual.

“Mostly fine,” Eli conceded. “Almost lost a customer, though. Mike was supposed to handle the handover for that Cinquecenta from Monday, the one the daughter was picking up? He wouldn’t let her have it because she wasn’t the owner, as far as I can tell he didn’t even look at the paperwork, and he left me hanging for almost an hour while he gave her the runaround. He’s not working out, man.”

“So you fired him?”

“Well, I’m not authorized to fire him, but I’m pretty sure someone needs to, so…”

Fred made a face. “You know, if you’re the one with the problem, I think that means you should fire him. Isn’t that what I’m paying you for?”

Eli shook his head. “We talked about this. The promotion, remember? I’m in charge when you’re gone and I can approve deliveries and place orders for parts, but no hiring or firing.”

“Huh.” Fred tapped a pen against the desk. “Well, that seems silly. You’re the one who wants more people anyway.”

“Look, I know you’d rather be alone with the cars, but that’s not really how businesses work.”

Fred laughed, which he always seemed to do right when Eli was worried that he’d gone too far. “Well, you’re the one with the fancy college experience.”

It was his favourite joke ever since he’d seen Eli’s resumé. Normally, it was eyeroll worthy; today, after Mike’s cracks about not finishing high school, it stung.

He pushed it aside with an effort. “Look, if you want me to take over that side of things, I can.” At least, he could probably handle it. He had recruitment experience, albeit in a very different arena, and he could fake things pretty good when he had to. “But I’m already…” there was no tactful way to say holding everything together here, “underwater with the extra responsibilities, and until we get some more help…”

“You wanted me to hire more help,” Fred pointed out. “I did. Now you want me to fire him.”

“He didn’t even bother showing up today,” Eli pointed out, and Fred frowned. Eli pressed his advantage. “He’s lazy and he doesn’t listen. I can’t get my work done because I have to follow him around telling him to put his tools away and finish the jobs I give him. He spent all day yesterday bitching about not having to do what I say, and that’s aside from harassing a customer to the point she nearly walked.” He doesn’t mention that they’d already finished the job and been paid almost in full. Fred was savvy enough to know how much repeat customers mattered, but it didn’t hurt to give the story a little extra impact.

“Wait, I thought this was a competence issue.” Fred flipped back to the Gutierrez intake, complete with his notes on the pick-up. “He was harassing her because she wasn’t the owner?” he asked dubiously.

Eli shrugged. “You know, she was pretty,” he said, like he didn’t spend an hour yesterday looking for a shirt that might pass for classy with his one pair of good jeans, to wear on a date he was never going to go on with a woman who definitely would never call him.

For one thing, she was the kind of person who wore blouses and dress shoes to work, and he was the loser who finished high school on a technicality.

“So you want me to fire him, and then you want more money because I fired him?” Fred fixed him with a gimlet stare. It had been intimidating the first few times, but after two years, Eli didn’t even flinch.

“Pretty much.”

Fred snorted. “Ah, the fine diplomacy of labour negotiations.”

“Hey, I can do diplomacy.” Eli cleared his throat, mentally calling up every evaluation and workplace comp discussion from Hearst. “Having carried out all responsibilities as outlined in the updated employment agreement for the previous three months, it has become apparent that the wage increase is insufficient to the additional volume of work now required. Should further responsibilities–”

“I get it, I get it.” Fred grinned to offset the mock heat in his voice. “You’re the glue that holds this place together, you’re single-handedly staving off the red, you know lots of big words. Let’s stick to the plain talk, huh?”

Eli leaned against the filing cabinet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coveralls. “Listen, I know you’d be paying me what I was worth if you could afford it.” He paused for the requisite laughter, then went on. “Fire this dipshit, give me another two bucks an hour starting next month, and hire Luis’s cousin. I know his English is shit,” he added, “but that won’t matter to anyone except you, and Mike doesn’t know the names of half the important stuff anyway.”

“You speak Spanish?” Fred was momentarily diverted, like this was surprising. Then he recalibrated. “So is this an ultimatum?” He raised a playful eyebrow, but the question felt serious underneath.

Eli shrugged it off. “Just a suggestion. But Thursdays and Fridays are going be a hell of a slowdown if nobody thinks they have to listen to me, and it’s like you said; I told you we needed more help.” More seriously he added, “You know I work my ass off for you, man. I’m here late every time you ask. I’m not planning on leaving. You really want me to start hiring people, or firing people…” he inclined his head. “We see how Luis’s cousin works out, and then we talk again in September?”

“At which point you’ll want more money,” Fred observed.

“Right now what I want is credit for not taking every wrench I’ve picked up off the wrong bench in the last two days and forcing it–” He’d been going to say down Mike’s throat, but based on the way Fred was laughing, he thought they were going a different direction.

“I guess that’s worth one-fifty an hour in the grand scheme of things,” he allowed, which was the best Eli was going to get, and maybe better than he’d hoped for. It wasn’t like he’d planned on incorporating the money discussion today, and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“And I think you should get a computer system,” he added, because why not go three for three? Fred swatted at him with the intake book and declined to answer.

*

He spent Sunday dragging his stuff to the shitty laundromat on Hastings, doing it one load at a time because half the driers were busted and if you left anything waiting there were absolutely people who’d throw your wet clothes on the floor just for the hell of it. The book he was trying to get through was impossible to focus on with the churning washing machines in the background, but honestly it was more to stave off the nasty looks from the other patrons than to read. It wasn’t terrible, or anything, but it was kind of weird and pretentious, and he wasn’t sure why exactly his sister liked it so much. And the cover ripped way too easy because of that stupid cutout of a dog, but whatever; it had already been tearing when Mona lent it to him, and it was better than trying to read that Columbine book in a public place. Never mind that both those kids had been middle-class white guys.

The end result was that he was in a bad mood when he got home, with half the day gone and the choice of making himself some depressing make-do meal out of what was left in the fridge, going grocery shopping hungry, or blowing money on take-out. Eli liked his job, but the perpetual looming knowledge that he had work tomorrow just made everything worse. This was better than Hearst, he reminded himself. The pay was better, there were no bitchy college students to deal with, and he wasn’t having every mistake and injustice in his life rubbed in his face on a daily basis. Just… he needed another day off. Monday, or something.

The phone rang, and he winced. He was not in the mood to babysit tonight, even if he never minded seeing Ophelia. Ricky was a holy terror these days, and their mom had been picking up a lot of last-minute shifts, which meant a lot of trying to keep his nephew from climbing the stove every five minutes.

But Mona was family, so he fished his cell out of his pocket and answered before he even realized that it was an unfamiliar number, with just enough time to turn his customary Yeah? into “Hello?”

“Hi.” The voice was female, soft and just a little breathy. “This is Jade Gutierrez, from the other day?”

Holy shit, she’d actually called him. “Yeah, I remember. I didn’t know if you were going to call me.”

She laughed. “Me either.” There might have been an edge of nervousness to it, but she carried it off well. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to get dinner some time? Or lunch.”

Uh, yes.

“Sure,” he said easily, frantically trying to figure out some common ground worth meeting on. He couldn’t take her somewhere fancy, not on short notice, but he didn’t want to seem unenthusiastic either. “How about pizza? Works for both.” If she was too fancy for pizza, he’d never measure up anyway, he told himself firmly.

“I like pizza.” She sounded actually pleased, which was encouraging. “There’s a place on Dalton, near the movie theatre?”

Eli had never been there, but he knew it. It was a vaguely sports-bar kind of place, fancier than Cho’s but not too expensive. He could definitely wear his good jeans without getting kicked out.

“Sounds good to me. I’m usually working around lunch time, though.” He kept his voice warm but not too flirty, not sure where the line would be. She’d been so delicately pretty that he hadn’t been able to avoid thinking of her as fragile at first, even after she’d shown some spark playing along with him, but when she’d marched back around and asked for his number he’d reconsidered. But at the time he’d thought she was just getting revenge, taking their little game one step farther – he hadn’t seriously considered that she would ask him out. Maybe that changed things, but he wasn’t quite sure yet.

“Dinner’s fine.” She hesitated. “I’m free this Thursday?”

“I can do Thursday,” he said immediately, not bothering to play it cool. He didn’t have plans and he would have rescheduled anyway, but he must have been too quick off the mark because Jade laughed on the other end of the phone.

It was a nice laugh, not derisive or superior, and she didn’t try to backtrack or apologize, which he liked. “Okay. I’ll meet you there at six-thirty?”

That gave him an hour to get home and shower and change, assuming he got off work on time. “Sure. That sounds nice.” On an impulse he threw out, “Then you can laugh at me some more.”

If it was a risk, it paid off: she laughed again. “Maybe I will.”

Eli could feel himself grinning as he leaned against the counter. This he could do. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

That got him a giggle. “Well, don’t get ahead of yourself. I happen to be very serious about my pizza.”

“Is this the pineapple thing?” he asked. “Because–”

She cut him off immediately. “Oh, no. Not a chance, sir. I never talk about religion, politics, or pineapple until at least the third date.”

That made him laugh. “I guess that tells me.”

“I guess it does.” There’s a pause, just long enough to set his nerves on edge, and then she takes an audible breath. “So I’ll see you Thursday.”

“You will.” He put just a touch of heat into the words – not enough to make them innuendo but, if he was lucky, enough for her to wish they were.

She made a surprised noise on the other end, managed a half-flustered, “Okay,” and then the call ended. There was a chance he’d just ruined this, but Eli thought – maybe optimistically – that it was a small one.

Thursday. Six thirty. He’d find out.

#veronica mars #eli navarro #jade navarro #fanfic #weevil navarro #i've been sitting on this for like four days because i couldn't decide if it needed MORE #but anyway here it is #and when i finish the next one it'll probably carry on from jade's perspective #i swear these were not supposed to be so closely related #the jade/eli chronicles

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 3 - In Which I Have a Nice Time

It was safe to say that yesterday's exploits had left me more fucked than France on a penalty shoot-out (Topical humour. Wayy. Lads.).  I less awoke and more chundered horribly back into existence this morning; my neck, back, legs and head all thumping from the previous day's piss poor choices and even piss poorer service from Flixbus. Peeling myself off of the - admittedly quite comfy - mattress didn't help matters. I could barely move my arms and turning my head to the side, even slightly, seemed like an impossibility on par with France winning the world cup for the second time, back to back (Weyyyy. Lads on tour.)

"I might take it easy today" I thought, like a coward. A handsome coward.

After a breakfast of a selection of those Kinder things you have to keep in the fridge - I'm not a proud man - and my second big sleep of the day, however, the crunchy haze of nebulous joint pain had subsided enough for me to renege on my earlier cravenness and, bravely, like the battle hardened, war scarred soldier I am, I bundled up nice and warm and went for a short walk in pleasant weather.

As it turned out, bundling up nice and warm was a foolish move. So used to the blistering cold of Sweden and the sopping wet mist of Northern Italy was I, that I hadn't considered that I may be stepping out of the door, today, into honest to god, genuine sunshine.

This is 25 degrees hotter than I was four days ago. Help. I am not built for this.

Embarrassingly over-insulated, I removed my scarf, shoved it into one of the woefully inadequate pockets on offer from my big winter coat - designed for mountain-wear, no less - and resigned myself to being a bit sweaty today. It would be a novelty after the last week, at the very least.

I had decided to follow Violet's recommendations and have a little wander around old town, before meandering home through a nice park. (Though if I’m being totally honest, these are exactly the things I would have done if left to my own devices, too, so…thanks for nothing, I guess, Violet?)

The walk to Old Town was a bit of a trek, but not an unpleasant one. Nice, begrudgingly lives up to it's name and is undeniably quite a pleasant place to exist, boasting, as it does, that sorta of lovely, laid back feeling of most Mediterranean seaside towns with almost none of the animal corpses or head-hight piles of garbage littering every street corner that it's counterparts always seem to possess. I’m looking at you, Palermo. Or I would be, if I could see through the mountain of refuse that has become your city wall.

Old town was comparably pleasant, despite the lovely looking gardenny bit I wanted to visit being transformed for the festive season into a shitty looking funfair with an extortionately high entrance fee and *armed policemen* guarding it's gates. 

I just want to see some fucking flowers...

Normally, it must be said, being around men with assault rifles, especially the police, would make me quite nervous, despite my obvious whiteness. In this instance, however, I was placated in the knowledge that even if they were to take aim at me, being French, they would almost certainly miss, if their accuracy during penalty shootouts were anything to go by. (Bam. Three times the Lad. In football, I'm reliably informed this is called a hat trick)

I ambled further towards the seafront, stopping in a souvenir shop and startling myself by managing to pull off the entire transaction with the cashier en français. Apparently my subconscious had absorbed more of the language than I had realised, during my high school days. Ms. Tully would be proud - if she hadn't gone mental and just walked into the sea and never come back, all those years ago.

I pushed on to the seafront proper, which was - I'll be honest - pretty lovely. 

That that, Scottish people.

I decided to enjoy the novelty of being on a warm beach in the middle of December for a while and thus, had a nice sit down and listened to a good podcast. I am aware this doesn't translate well to scintillating prose, but my body was fucked and it was very relaxing, so you can eff off, quite frankly.

After my very lovely sit down which I enjoyed more than the company of most people in my life, I moved on the the park, as recommended by Violet, as it wasn't far from the beach. It was, however, up a massive big fucking hill and somewhere close - I estimated - to probably like…a million steps or something. Give or take a few hundred thousand.

Groaning, and being unsure if the noise was coming from my mouth or my joints, I relented - taking it easy, after all, is for big ugly pussies and I was nothing if not brave and handsome - and began to climb.

It was a difficult ascent, given that I was, at this point, a mangled, pulped mess of sinew and disdain, though I was rewarded at the summit by some really quite remarkable views

I mean I guess it's okay.

I farted around at the top of the park taking photos and having a ruddy nice time for a good while, before the sun began to dip and my stomach began to rumble. Not quite done, but factors, both external and internal forcing my hand, I begrudgingly descended - in much the same was France presumably have in the Fifa Men's World Rankings. (Honestly, I think I might give up my career as a foreshadowist and take up being a Lad-Smith instead. Easy money, innit.)

I trudged back to my apartment, my feet and shoulders beginning to creak and scream again, stopping briefly at a big supermarket which annoyingly, while an intensely unpleasant experience, wasn't so much so as to be blogworthy. There's nothing worse than having a shit time that's also boring. Think that's a Churchill quote. Back home, I created with my hands and demolished with my mouth, far too much food for the second day in a row - this time with a slight shred of shame - and resigned myself to spending the rest of the evening working on Christmas presents and eating a big lemon pie. Admittedly I did miss this bit a little.

#travelling #vagrant #nice #france #travel #photography #city photography #travel photography #grumpy #big hill #seaside

[debtcurve9]

The reality About Water Inside 3 Minutes

But one particular you might not necessarily have previously regarded as is zinc normal water features. Request views which might end up being objective in your site. A lot more often search engines check out your site typically the more they? re able to revise the current content you may possibly include added. Why carry out lawyers spend thus much time, in addition to so much client money, making frontal assaults on their very own opponents, demanding that they reveal damaging stuff that may be far more easily from others? Military services Strategy 101 shows which a good flanking maneuver is much less costly when compared to an anterior assault on a prepared position. Even though some damaging stuff occasionally remains buried in the course of pre-suit investigation, situations don? t generally arrive in court without both sides already knowing really a bit, good and bad, about the controversy. With clients whoever defense costs will be being fronted by simply liability insurers the whining is oftentimes actually worse: Why should i have to perform all this stuff? Why does it automatically make sense to recreate most the information acquired or exchanged pre-suit?

Cases settle without suit because a lot of information is voluntarily disclosed. Love June Cleaver, idol judges may eventually notice through the Eddie or Edwina Haskells who are mistreating discovery (and their very own opponents) in the particular cases before them -- but not always before costs will be inflated out regarding proportion with the value of the circumstance. What we should do rather is abandon the particular idea of computerized discovery and move to a zero-based breakthrough system. 안전카지노사이트 The method should make reasonable sense to an individual, so that an individual will be able to develop onto the key meanings create all of them your own. The idea of? complete? or? whole? discovery may sound appealing to law school professors, but the costs worker thereto made our civil court method too expensive some sort of forum for way too many - and, yet, there? s option alternative available. Settlement? Don? t find me started: Discovery is corrupting arbitration practice, too, and where one edge is purchasing the arbitrator, as is usually now the situation in mega-company vs. USC now encounters three straight Pac 10 games, starting up next weekend upon the road at the University regarding Washington.

Persuasion entails more than the particular lawyer? s mindful case citations or perhaps passionate speeches. That? s more comfy for people and maybe even convenient. You can choose to have appetizers, drinks or actually dinner and several planes, you may well be in a position to convert the seat to a sleep berth. HEPA filtration systems can trap nearly all of the particles in your own living environment by simply using a cloth-like filter. This method involves using a great instrument much like wood floor buffers. There? s a kernel of truth throughout that old part of corn: First plus foremost, persuasion consists of the lawyer seeking to show typically the court that she is the sensible one, he is trustworthy, they are credible. Exactly what lawyer hasn? capital t had a client whine why am My partner and i paying you in case I have to be able to seek out all this particular stuff myself? Appear how hard this individual took Vesper's passing away. Meanwhile, equally well-funded parties could still try and uncover one another to passing away (if equally well-financed parties are decided to wage some sort of discovery war involving attrition, the wise trial judge will certainly gladly let them).

The court will become the gatekeeper, requested with evaluating whether the requested finding is really essential to have a claim ready for test - or located for settlement - or whether typically the discovery being wanted is instead meant as a means to have on down or harass the other side. Rules 218(a)(4), (5), and (10) especially invite a test court? s earlier and direct involvement in discovery concerns. But rather than asking whether? type? interrogatories have been unthinkingly propounded, or even whether or not the depositions associated with all parties possess been scheduled, whether or not needed or not necessarily, I suggest that we ask courts to be able to presume that no discovery whatsoever is necessary in virtually any case. This would not really prevent the functions from attempting to be able to resolve their distinctions, either with the court? 카지노사이트 주소 s support in a pre-trial, or through mediation (again, as Principle 218(a) already provides). Therefore-human nature being what it is-the party seeking the court? s help in enforcing discovery, in apparent conformity using the rules, specifically Rule 201(k), specifically when represented by simply an Edward Haskell, Esq., will, with least at primary, command the courtroom? s sympathy. The court? s handle of the execute of discovery coming from the outset would likely protect the uninsured or underfunded party against the use regarding discovery by the well-funded opponent as a method to be able to bleed and bludgeon it into a great unfair settlement or perhaps, worse, default or even nonsuit.

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