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#30 thousand easy win
rudrjobdesk · 2 years
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घर बैठे जीत सकते हैं 30 हज़ार रुपये, Amazon App पर मिल रहा है शानदार मौका
घर बैठे जीत सकते हैं 30 हज़ार रुपये, Amazon App पर मिल रहा है शानदार मौका
Amazon App Quiz April 13, 2022: ई-कॉमर्स प्लैटफॉर्म अमेज़न (Amazon) पर डेली ऐप क्विज़ (Daily App Quiz) का नया एडिशन शुरू हो गया है. ऑनलाइन शॉपिंग प्लेटफॉर्म Amazon आज अपने Quiz में अमेज़न पे बैलेंस (Amazon Pay Balance) पर 30,000 रुपये जीतने का मौका दे रहा है. ये क्विज़ अमेज़न के मोबाइल ऐप पर मौजूद है. जानकारी के लिए बता दें कि ये डेली क्विज़ हर दिन सुबह 8 बजे शुरू होता है और रात 12 बजे तक चलता…
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dangtenjhs · 2 years
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puzzledemigod · 8 months
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Ok I did the whole Barbenheimer thing and let me tell you, Barbie wasn't revolutionary or anything, but it did come up ahead. It did what it was supposed to do and, since I managed my expectations before going in, did it in a fun silly way that still left a bunch of possible deeper readings, even if they were sadly left unexplored (and were maybe unintended). Oppenheimer on the other hand left me very angry and disappointed, even if I went there knowing it was an usamerican warfilm so I wasn't expecting much.
I think Barbie and Oppenheimer were equally superficial and obvious with their intended messages presentations, themes and characters, and equally inconsistent with their story threads. But Barbie was about Barbies, was intentionally silly, and had more going for it than the story itself... and Oppenheimer was about one of the real life creators of the atonic bomb, about the ones responsible for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, and about the subsequent cold war and the mess it left us today in regards to the existence and threat of atomic and H bombs.
I think I can safely say one had the responsibility to be a bit more nuanced and careful than the other, and that just did not happen. And no, i do not think there was any actual anti USA sentiment in Oppenheimer, as someone who lives in a Developing Country (TM)and is used to seeing usamerican propaganda all the time there was barely even a scratch of criticism buried in there; our knowledge of history and our own modern sensibilities and morality did all the heavy lifting in that front without the movie having to risk saying anything. Oh did he feel bad while the bombs were being dropped? Did they villanize a guy who went after him for uhh being better than him at public speaking? Did they say he was against the H bomb and was a pacifist now, actually (without showing it much but who cares, tell not show right)? He was still the hero. Not one Japanese person was shown. Not one civilian protest, not one appearance of the communists they were talking so much about after the scenes in the past, doing anything but talking the whole time. He still ended up with a "I love my country" tirade, there was still a haha nod to fucking Kennedy being the one to be on our hero's side. They still showed more scenes of women naked, drunk, cheating on their husbands and being negligent towards their kids than of them doing literally anything else.
The "nuance" and "anti-usa messages" was just a bunch of misplaced and inconsequential internal conflict that did not feel earned in any way, misogyny and random, boring and inconsistent jury scenes (sorry, "hearing" scenes or whatever they called so there wouldn't have to be consistent rules to follow). And the main character was so damn boring. And they didn't even represent the actual science parts well. And the editing was so weird and the flashing scenes didn't fit and were repetitive. And there was a happy ending for some reason?? It was a whole bunch of nothing with music building momentum that never went anywhere in the background of every scene for 3 hours and I wanted to leave the room for how angry it made me that this subject was treated that way and would probably get praised for it.
#barbenheimer#this isn't the most well though out criticism but i just saw another post saying how surprised they were about the usa criticism in that#and like. where? seriously where was it? oh that mccarthyism was kinda bad for people who did nothing wrong? that bombs are violent?#they barely even said that bombing hiroshima and nagasaki maybe wasn't necessary#everybody everywhere in the world knows that jfc are usamericans in general so behind in these discussions that this was some kind of#revelation? was that surprising of a movie to state? because oppenheimer barely scrathed that#they gave a shoutout to jfk in the end like he was some kind of mcu easter egg#like it was funny#and then it used that random idk sennator? as a scapegoat just so they could have a villain like the good basic usamerican film it is#so the hero could fight against the system by defeating this one guy! in uhh being promoted (?) happy ending for all!! hurrah!!! meanwhile#hundreds of thousands of japanese people are dead. many more die because of the cold war and the arms race#but oppenheimer got his fancy card back! isn't that great? aren't you glad you spent the last 30 minutes in these trials? the last 3 hours#watching nothing be developed?#god it left me so mad#and it will probably win an oscar (probably multiple even) and a lot of other people who think oooh boy look at that nuance :0 it even has#black and white parts! when the whole movie is black and white (like most usamerican movies) (but it's so EASY to make it grey with this#subject) (of course they didn't tho this is much easier)#tags#anyway nobody's gonna read this probably#I'm just angry#“oppenheimer”#“barbie”#this js barely even about barbie#sorry
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me: I am so incredibly exhausted and sad. Talking a friend left me more demotivated, and there is not a force on this earth that could make me feel marginally better right now.
me: *impulse purchases another mythicmori candle*
me:
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roosterforme · 6 months
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How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)
Length: 6300 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger
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Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series. 
Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.
Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"
"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host. 
"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"
"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."
"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"
"That would be Nolan Ryan."
"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."
Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."
And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night. 
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Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions. 
As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it. 
In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now. 
As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job. 
The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely. 
"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"
When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks. 
You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."
"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard. 
"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.
"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."
You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"
He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."
"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"
His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.
You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley." 
"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt. 
"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.
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Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too. 
"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction. 
"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."
Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.
"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"
Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.
"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."
You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."
Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"
"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."
Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer. 
"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.
"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink. 
"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"
"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."
"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.
And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."
"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool. 
"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."
Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."
That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."
"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip. 
"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer. 
He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."
"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.
"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."
Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested. 
"You know me?"
He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."
When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.
"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.
"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.
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Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again. 
"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning." 
"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time." 
His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned. 
You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"
"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.
"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.
"I'm sure I would."
The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer. 
"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."
You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold. 
Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.
His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."
Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it. 
You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked. 
"Immediately," he promised. 
"Well then maybe I'll save your number."
He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.
"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will." 
After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute. 
"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article. 
"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."
He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"
"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"
"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."
As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here." 
You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.
It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him. 
"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink." 
You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead. 
"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk. 
"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed. 
You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?" 
The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."
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The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him. 
"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.
He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him. 
"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed. 
"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too. 
"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.
"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."
Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"
"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room. 
As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.
"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches. 
"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."
Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him. 
He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"
"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them. 
But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."
"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.
"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.
"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.
"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off. 
When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.
"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.
Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.
Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."
"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."
Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.
But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time. 
You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort. 
When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight. 
"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.
"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper. 
"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off. 
Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you. 
You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.
Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders. 
Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?
"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.
"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.
"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.
"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."
It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.
"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.
"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.
Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."
He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."
With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself. 
"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."
He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more. 
"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back. 
You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic. 
He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair. 
Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good. 
Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly. 
"Wow. That was fun."
Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly. 
"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing." 
Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."
And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"
Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.
"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."
"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."
You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.
"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."
You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."
"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."
"I do," you whispered. 
"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again. 
You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you. 
"Bye, Bradley."
He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.
-----------------------------------
Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 2
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djsherriff-responses · 2 months
Note
Did we notice that the only times alex seems to initiate any kind of physical affection are
When he's trying to convince dolph to go along with the heist
And when he's trying to win him back?
And I know he's only there for a few episodes, but really. We also have instances during the heist when dolph is cuddled up on him and he kind of just stands there.
Anon you are so right, let me also direct everyone's attention to this scene
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Ignore Rayman's reaction I made several posts going insane on this scene already but a picture really does say a thousand words. Even before the show came out, the trailer made it a point to show us this scene, this one moment that barely flashes by us in both the trailer and the show proper. It's so obvious in hindsight what this scene is telling us about these characters and their relationship, in that Alex didn't love Dolph the way Dolph loved him, that they weren't on equal footing and Alex put himself before Dolph. But when watching the show for the first time we don't know that, we get distracted by the flashy action and violence that much like Dolph himself, the betrayal comes out of nowhere (except it doesn't , both Dolph and us just didn't see Alex's true colours)
I do think Alex did some love bombing on Dolph, which would've been incredibly too easy if the manga previews are suggesting what I think it's suggesting regarding Dolph and Alex's relationship. Even only focusing on the show, the examples you brought up fit this. I don't think Alex fits all the criteria to be a love bomber, nor I think he normally would love bomb someone. But considering how Alex saw how much of an easy target Dolph was when they first met, it seemed like the best tactic
Interestingly though the "wanting to commit too soon" and "gets jealous easily" are traits that don't fit Alex at all, but rather they're traits that Dolph has, traits that Alex definitely took advantage off
Now , the whole "Dolph is possessive/clingy" and thus gets jealous easily isn't something that actually happens in the show.... Unless you count his reaction finding Alex sleeping with Pagan Min, which anyone would get angry about in Dolph's position. That is admittedly more so me knowing that it's a common trait regarding Dolph's character archetype but like, come on, knowing what we know about Dolph (before the manga is out as of writing this) , it's not out the realm of possibility that the combination of Dolph's desperate need for affection, his low view of himself and quick loyalty to anyone who shows him kindness would result in Dolph having issues being possessive of someone he loves (which Dolph hates about himself and Alex definitely did not help with)
BUT THE "COMMIT TOO SOON"!? DOLPH, 100% DOLPH LASERHAWK! We already knew that in the show Dolph's plan pre-betrayel was running away with Alex and basically settling down on a beach with the old man, but having the knowledge that Dolph is early to mid 20s, rather then the assumption he was entering his 30s, when he decided to do that? Insane, not normal about it, he should be clubbing why is he making retirement plans already?
Oh but let's not also forget that when he killed Alex, Dolph cried his heart out and tried to kill himself. Like, even after everything Alex did to him, Dolph was still committed to Alex even in a twisted and self destructive way
And then Dolph gets the will to live again because of Bullfrog, someone who showed Dolph genuine kindness
... I am really looking forward to seeing just how much damage Alex did to Dolph in the manga, and how much does Dolph even know about it
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moralisist · 9 months
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miguel x reader
summary: you and miguel go on vacation !
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“come on mi amor, smile for the camera!” miguel has taken almost about 100 pictures today alone, you believe. you appreciate the fact he wants to make memories but you’re tired of stopping every five seconds to take pictures of minuscule things. “miggy, this is a tree. a random tree. do we really need a photo of me standing next to a random tree??” you ask him with your eyebrows up.
“of course we do baby. this is our first vacation together. we have to make everything count, no?” you end up taking a picture with the tree just so you could see your man have a small smile and be at peace.
you guys decided to go on vacation since you were getting exhausted of everyday spider work and you could tell miguel was too, but he’d never admit it because spider work is his whole need of living. you took it upon yourself to take you guys on a nice trip to a nice resort with his credit card. miguel being miguel at first wasn’t on board.
“it’s too expensive mi sol.” “miguel you know damn well we can afford it.” you look up at him making sure to look in his eyes so he knew how serious you were about this. “not only that, we don’t have time. hay demasiadas cosas que hacer, people to see.” (*theres too many things to do*) he tries to wave you and this idea off but you’re not having it.
“jess can take care of it. come on miggy, they can take care of themselves. especially jess, she can have people in a tight rope if she really wanted to.” you walk closer to him giving him a hug. “i just wanna spend time with you. i can tell you’re stressed so this will be good for us. hm?” he looks at you knowing he’s gonna fold when he sees your face looking at him so sweetly. he sighs loudly. “okay baby. fine. fine! you win. we can… go on vacation.” once you hear those words you lightly squeal and give him a kiss on the lips. “okay we leave friday!! hold on lemme call jess, she owes me 30 bucks.” “w-what??? 30 bucks for what?? y/n! hey!” miguel calls out for you as you’re running out the room calling jess on your phone so she could give you that 30 because she really thought he wasn’t gonna go on that trip? while knowing hes whipped for you?? easy money.
and that leaves you here. watching the sunrise on the beach, as cliche as it is, is therapeutic for the both of you. you brought a big towel so the both of you can lay or sit down. you’re sitting inside of his legs/lap while you guys watch the sun go down and are just talking about everything you guys have missed from each other since things were busy.
“you really think they’re okay without me, mi amor? even tho i’d never show it to any of the spider people, i worry sometimes. everything i do is for their best interest.” he sighs sounding exhausted and his voice is laced with guilt. from his grumpy demeanor and his short temper, i’m sure none of the spider people even have a clue that miguel is even aware of their presence unless it’s with big missions or anything that has to do with work. “it’s okay miguel, i’m sure they know deep down. don’t worry about that right now. right now it’s just us. you can worry about the rest of them after this trip. that’s the whole reason i brought us here.” he laughs at you and you look at him confused. “you brought us here? baby, i saw my credit card information. this trip was in the 10 thousands?!!? i forgot i needed to talk to you about that actually-” “come on miggy let’s go get some drinks!” you get up running to the nearest bar that served your now favorite lemonade. “oh so you can put it on my tab?? i don’t think so baby.” he gets up and catches up to you and takes your hand while dragging you guys back to your spot. “we can get drinks later, on me. just… stay with me for right now okay? i like it when it’s just us.” youre laying on his chest on the towel now. you look up at him and see his face finally relax for the first time in a couple months. “me too miggy.” he kisses your forehead while holding you in his arms, making a note to do trips with you more often.
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POV: You're playing a progressive game.
Dude, you wanna play "Mission Impossible: Israel Edition"?
Yeah, sure.
It's 1947 and the UN the land of Israel to a Jewish state and an Arab state. As a Jew, your mission is... survive!
That's it? Okay.
Let's draw the first card... War! Local Arabs attacking Jews all over the land, joined by the armies of Egypt, Syria, Iraq and Jordan. Do you fight back or surrender?
If I surrender, do I survive?
No.
Then I fight back.
OK, let's draw another one... You lose a huge amount of your population but miraculously manage to win. Are you willing to give back some of the territories you gained in exchange for peace?
Of course, I just want to survive.
Great and now we have... Terror! Hundreds of Israelis killed by Arabs from the West Bank and Gaza. Do you wish to surrender, hunt the terrorists or give the Palestinians autonomy so they can form a peaceful and independent society alongside Israel?
Let's give them autonomy.
OK you get... More terror! Over a thousand Israelis die in countless attacks all over Israel.
Oh wow, I won't be able to survive like this. Let's fight the terrorists in the West Bank and withdraw from Gaza completely. I'll even give the Palestinians all the facilities we created over there. I'm sure they'll find a use for it.
Interesting... The people of Gaza elected Hamas as their ruler and it swore to destroy Israel and kill all the Jews. They also dismantled the infrastructure you gave them and used it to build rockets which they fire towards you. How do you respond?
Okay let's talk to Egypt and together we'll form a tight border around Gaza to control what goes in and out.
Okay... People are mad at you because you formed a blockade.
But they'll kill me if I won't... well then let's give Gaza electricity, fuel, supplies, and billions of dollars.
Okay you get... Even more terror! Hamas uses all the aid to develop terror infrastructure while the people of Gaza remain poor.
This game is not that easy...
You waited too long and now Hamas crossed the border, killed 1500 Israelis and kidnapped 240, all in one day!
OK enough is enough. I enter Gaza to destroy Hamas.
Let's see... Many of your soldiers die fighting in urban territory. You're having trouble because Hamas hides among civilians.
Oh man. Let's use the Air Force and target Hamas officials only.
Hamas uses civilians as human shields. Do you wish to proceed?
Look, I'll put tremendous efforts into targeting Hamas only with as few civilian casualties as possible.
Let's see... Hamas builds military bases inside residential areas, schools, and hospitals, so, unfortunately, civilians die.
OK let me think...
While you were thinking, 30 Israelis died.
Wait a second...
50 Israelis more. Your people fear for their lives.
OK I'll notify the people of Gaza before striking so they have time to evacuate.
Hamas blocks the roads so civilians can't leave.
What do you want me to do?
Now Hamas says that Israel is just the beginning and they want to take on all Western democracies.
OK now I'm sure the world will understand if I keep fighting Hamas while trying as hard as I can to avoid collateral damage.
Let's see... Most people accuse you of performing a genocide and demand you cease fire.
OK, happy to, but only if Hamas will surrender and return the hostages.
They refuse. You are now accused of ethnic cleansing and considered a war criminal.
I'm starting to think I cannot win this game.
==
"Israel is the only country in the world never allowed to win a war." -- Douglas Murray
Remember when Boko Haram kidnapped 300 girls and everyone was all #BringBackOurGirls? Let's leave aside the fact they also kidnapped 10,000 boys and nobody said a word.
What are we currently hearing from Western countries, and particularly from western elites? Motions and calls for a "ceasefire." Not a demand for Hamas to surrender and #BringBackTheHostages, but for everyone to put their guns down so the terrorists can regroup, rearm and reload, and plan even more of the atrocities they've already promised.
I saw one person on social media say "couldn't they start with asking Hamas to please surrender?" I thought they were kidding. They were not. Which is like "why are there still monkeys?" Apparently scientists just never considered this, and Israel just never asked nicely.
"Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it" "There is no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain endeavors." -- Hamas Covenant, 1988.
Who is making demands of Hamas? Nobody actually expects anything of them, because they know they're terrorists. But they're the ones of which we should be demanding the most.
The only thing you can do when being assaulted by wokescolds, of any variety, is to just do the right thing and ignore them. When they have aligned themselves with full-blown terrorists who have a fatwa issued against them, they don't have the moral high ground.
https://fatwacouncil.org/2023/03/09/hamasfatwa/
FATWA | Palestinian Human Rights in Gaza March 9, 2023
The Islamic Fatwa Council (IFC) deems the recently publicized audio and video material containing testimonies of Palestinian residents of the Gaza Strip to be both alarming and concerning. It is the responsibility of the Islamic Seminaries to take a clear and firm stance in light of the inhumane actions of Hamas.
Based on the requests of countless believers, The Islamic Fatwa Council has reviewed extensive documentation of Hamas behavior towards Palestinians in Gaza, including their recently publicized testimonies. Our findings - which are also displayed in our jurisprudential reasoning - result in our ruling that:
1. Hamas bears responsibility for its own reign of corruption and terror against Palestinian civilians within Gaza; 2. It is prohibited to pray for, join, support, finance, or fight on behalf of Hamas - an entity that adheres to the ideology of the Muslim Brotherhood movement.
Furthermore, The Islamic Fatwa Council joins The UAE Fatwa Council and the Council of Senior Scholars of Saudi Arabia in declaring the Muslim Brotherhood movement and all of its branches as terrorist organizations that defame Islam and operate in opposition to mainstream Islamic unity, theology and jurisprudence.
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eldritchbauble · 1 year
Text
Questions to make you think:
1. What do you think happens after death?
2. Are humans innately good or evil? Or neutral?
3. Do you believe in the concept of sin?
4. Do people naturally need to be governed, and you think of anarchy as chaos or peace?
5. Does divine reward or punishment exist and if there is no ultimate judgment, what gives moral value to our actions?
6. If reincarnation exists, do you believe that people continue to find each other across different lives?
7. If reincarnation exists, do you believe that we come back as humans every time?
8. Do you believe in the multiverse or other dimensions?
9. Is there other self-aware life in the universe and if so, do you think they know about us?
10. Does the idea of astral projection make you uncomfortable, and have you ever had an out-of-body experience?
11. Have you ever had a precognitive dream?
12. Are "gut feelings" a real sense or sign, or random coincidences when they come true?
13. Do you believe that people have auras, and have you ever seen someone's aura?
14. Tell a story about a paranormal or unexplainable event that's happened to you?
15. Do we have souls, and do other animals and other living things (like trees) have souls?
16. Are ego death and other experiences on psychedelics truly spiritual, or are they simply chemical reactions in the brain?
17. Is there ever a time when it's right or necessary to deny a person body autonomy?
18. If you're agnostic or atheist, do you ever wish you could believe in a higher power? If you believe in a higher power, does their existence bring you comfort or fear or both?
19. If all substances were legal and easy to acquire, what drugs would you try, if any?
20. Is it ever justifiable to take a life if NOT in self-defense, and why?
21. Is anger a useful, bad, or neutral emotion? Should violence be condemned or embraced?
22. Are you kind to others even when they have nothing to offer you? What about strangers?
23. Do other random people in public feel real to you; do you recognize that they have countless unique experiences and internal narratives... or are they NPCs to you?
24. Where do you see yourself in a thousand years? Nonexistent? Exploring the universe? Haunting? Reanimated? Existing as a consciousness transferred into a machine?
25. What do you HOPE happens after death?
26. Is there a point at which medical science is "playing god" and should be forbidden?
27. If it were ethically acquired, with no harm, deemed safe, properly prepared, and legal, would you taste human meat?
28. Is the feeling of security worth sacrificing privacy and free will?
29. What scares you the most about the world, and what small things give you hope for the future of humanity?
30. What topics keep you awake at night?
31. How do you cope with knowing that your time here is fleeting in the scheme of things?
32. Do you believe that good will always win out, in the end?
33. Do you believe in karma, and do you ever take it upon yourself to carry out karma?
34. What arbitrary social construct frustrates you the most?
35. Do you think the passage of time is linear, or do we just lack a better understanding of it?
36. Is withholding your own wealth or resources when you have the power to do good for others an act of violence?
37. How much money is too much for one person to possess?
38. What is YOUR purpose in life?
39. Do you believe a person can still be redeemable, no matter what they've done?
40. Do you think every person is capable of horrible acts if put in the right (or wrong) circumstances?
41. Do you believe that everything really does happen for a reason?
42. Do the stars and planets have any power over us (do you believe in astrology)?
43. Do you think most people truly know what it means to love and be loved? Do you?
44. What experiences have changed you for the better or worse?
45. Are you letting fear control you?
46. Would you rather go your whole life being lied to while blissfully unaware, or discover a devastating truth about someone you love?
47. Do you ever feel like you can influence things by willing them to happen?
48. Is life still worth living if happiness is only ever a temporary state of being?
49. If you could go to sleep for a year to avoid all demands, obligations, and problems but you'd be trapped in your dreams the entire time, would you make the trade off?
50. How much do you really trust the people closest to you?
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fangs-4-fags · 4 months
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maybe im just too willing to let things crawl on me but i see people doing challenges like "let a tarantula crawl on you for 30 seconds to win 10 thousand dollars" or "sit in a tub and let us drape snakes all over you" and i think psh. i could make such easy money like that.
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ckret2 · 9 months
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I keep posting excerpts from this conversation but I really do love how Bill and Ford interact with each other. They're having two entirely different conversations.
Ford remembered arriving in the Nightmare Realm. He'd relived it over and over—in hundreds, if not thousands of nightmares. "That was no welcome party. You were surrounded by an army of monsters."
"Hey, those are my pals you're talking about!" Bill laughed—a sincere, easy sound. "Hate to point out the obvious, Sixer, but you've got a handshake that '30s Hollywood woulda designed a whole movie monster around. Who are you to judge appearances!"
Ford's thoughts flashed briefly to the Glass Shard Beach freak show he'd met as a child—the humans who'd called themselves "monsters" and who'd called Ford their "abnormal ally," the frightening friendly freaks who'd welcomed him warmly. He pushed the thought away. Bill wasn't running some kind of weirdo sanctuary; he probably just thought making Ford think he was would win him some sympathy. "You were sitting on a throne. Made out of optical illusions. Like a self-appointed tyrant."
"Oh, you noticed my throne!" Bill's head lifted a little more. "I got that custom made! It's upholstered with the torn fabric of reality! Say, did it look three-dimensional to you? I'm told it looks 3D if you cross your eyes just right, but, well, you need two eyes to cross 'em."
"Wh—" Ford blinked, trying to remember what the throne had looked like. "Was it... not 3D?"
"No way! Do you have any idea what it'd cost to upholster a whole extra dimension in the fabric of reality? I'm not about to drop that kind of gold on a feature I wouldn't even use!" Bill grinned up at Ford. All Ford could see was the one eye and his teeth. "But hey, if you couldn't even tell the difference—I guess the autostereogram detailing was worth it!"
Ford wants Bill to admit that he terrorized the hell out of him the moment he entered the nightmare realm and Bill keeps talking about anything but that, and there's no way to tell if he's trying to wiggle out of the accusation or if this is really what he took out of that encounter.
Also I think Bill getting all excited over his stupid tacky throne upholstered with the fabric of reality is funny.
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sicklyworm · 9 months
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Monster cans and reading bans!
Ao3/Anon Hackers <3333
Prologue :
Ao3 tiredly took a sip of his fourth monster of the day, his hands typing as fast as he could make them. He knew better than to procrastinate for so long, after all this project is 30% of his final grade, but the patrochilles fanfic he was reading was just too good for him to read it all in one go. Now a full 26 hrs later than that horrible decision and he still isn't done with the fic due to his favorite site being down and the project is due in 7 hrs. Now Ao3 would say he is pretty good at pulling shit out his ass when it comes to school but he really had underestimated this project. fuck. He should have known this class was going to bite him in the ass eventually. After all, getting a credit for just thinking critically would be far too easy. Ao3 bit his lip in an attempt to stay awake but his brain wasn't just wasn't cooperating. Sighing Ao3 closed his laptop and started to type in the number he swore to himself he would never call. That number he got from the very one and only Anon Hackers or as Ao3 likes to call them dickface.
Hackers was a pretty popular person on campus, but considering that they live in florida that might actually be the biggest red flag of all time. After all, everyone in Florida could possibly be replaced by SCPs in very bad disguises and the rest of the world would be none the wiser. Hackers themself was known for their… well lets just go with passionnet one sided arguments on things like religion. Which were really just Hackers angrily spouting whatever conservative talking points were popular at the moment at anyone who looked even slightly left leaning. While Ao3 himself had never actually been on the receiving side of Hackers ire, his friends have and that's enough to make Ao3 despise them with the fury of a thousand suns.
So when profesor Fanfiction.net assigned them as partners on such an important project and Hackers was forced to give Ao3 their number, Ao3 elected to just do it by himself so he would never have to use the damned thing. It's just one silly project after all, how bad could it be? Oh how much ao3 wanted to strangle his past self for not starting this project earlier because right now in a desperate attempt to at least completely fail he is going to do something he said he would never do… he is going to ask for Hacker to save his ass.
Hackers was fucked. Not by procrastinating school like Ao3 but because they have been lying about having a boyfriend to his parents for the last 3 months and now they want to meet him. Their parents are christian evangelical extremists and even Anon got uncomfortable at times about how they talk about queer and trans folk despite being christian themselves. Hackers never came out as nonbinary to their parents either so whenever they have to visit them it is a pain. They barely get away with using they/them pronouns at school and if one of his 'friends' were to learn his dead name they would never be referred to by their chosen name ever again.
Their habit of just saying whatever their parents did the day before whenever they felt uncomfortable has also driven away anyone who would still use their right name even after hearing the old one.
Hackers turned in their bed so they could scream into their pillow. This whole situation was impossible, no way to win, just ways to lose. "I did this to myself, I guess-" Anon was cut off by their phone going off, their jolly ringtone mocking their desperate situation. Peeling themself from their bed Hackers grabbed their phone, the number had no id but the area code was the same as theirs so they decided to answer.
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cogitoergofun · 8 months
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Every day, thousands of tons of trash—rotten food, takeout containers, diapers, old shoes, construction debris, tires, plastic bags, soiled carpet, and lawn clippings—burst into flame and turn to ash and energy at an incinerator in Palm Beach County, Florida. 
“Right there is probably about 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit,” said Ray Schauer, the facility operations director, looking at the incinerator’s combustion chamber during a tour in May. “Most people say, ‘If I could see hell, this is what it would look like.’”
As the trash burns, the municipal incinerator produces enough electricity to power about 45,000 homes and businesses. It also pumps out some of the same kinds of greenhouse gases and other pollutants as power plants that use fossil fuels. But because there’s always more garbage to feed the plant, the electricity it produces can be considered renewable.
That means the incinerator can also sell something more theoretical: renewable energy certificates, or RECs. 
Each REC represents one megawatt-hour of renewable energy—enough electricity to power the average US home for a little over a month. But the energy itself isn’t what’s being bought and sold. Instead, REC purchasers—usually companies—buy the right to take credit for green power they’re not actually using. As a result, they lower their carbon emissions—at least on paper—and can keep using the same old fossil fuel-powered electricity.
In 2021, a New York City-based REC seller named Joe Barclay offered to buy the trash incinerator’s certificates for about 30 cents each.
Companies showcasing their green credentials usually wanted to buy Green-e certified RECs from wind turbines, which generate power without emissions, and could cost up to 20 times as much. But the trash incinerator RECs don’t meet any certification standard, Barclay told Schauer in an email, and hardly anyone wanted to buy them. 
Barclay happened to know some buyers who would accept incinerator RECs, “and they are the only buyers that I’m aware of that can,” he wrote.
It wasn’t much, but it was easy money, so the Solid Waste Authority of Palm Beach County, which runs the incinerator, took the deal, and Barclay bought the RECs in bulk. Last year, he sold them for four times the original cost to his willing buyer: the United States government.
As the world teeters on the edge of climate calamity, this is how the federal government—the biggest energy consumer in the country—has been meeting its mandate to move away from fossil fuels.
Under the green veneer of the government’s renewable energy claims lie controversial, polluting power generators that expose the flaws and folly of the government’s reliance on RECs to pad its environmental stats.
Despite years of mounting evidence that RECs don’t help fight climate change, federal agencies have kept buying their way into compliance without changing the way they get the vast majority of their electricity.
As the Florida incinerator RECs demonstrate, it looks on paper like a win-win. Federal agencies can say they’ve gotten greener, and renewable energy producers get a bit of extra money for energy they were already producing. But with no change to the amount of greenhouse gases warming the Earth, the only loser in the transaction is the climate.
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bonescribes · 4 months
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In two to three sentences, write a brief elevator pitch, or synopsis, to get someone interested in your character! Ideally, an elevator pitch is said within 30 seconds, the length of an elevator ride. Use this opportunity to summarize the best of your muse's story, without giving too much away! Get the "audience" hooked!
colin: moderately antagonistic archeologist who loves music. ideal for fellow music-lovers, unnecessarily smart people, or folks who have seedy dealings. a little manipulative, a lot closed off. has a cool robot arm.
fai: cheerful -- possibly bordering on annoying -- mage who doesn't use magic. ideal for fellow mages, moons in need of a sun, or equally energetic fellows who want to terrorize the grumpy ones. frontrunner for world's tragic-est backstory; his smile hides multitudes. (also easy for crossovers, as his story involves jumping around worlds.)
ukitake: old, powerful shinigami known best for his kindness. ideal for folks who need a dad and/or grandpa figure, fellow old souls, or anyone who needs someone to talk to. has the wisdom of thousands of years of life, and a constitution worse than your sickliest victorian boy.
kurama: former infamous fox thief, current Super Normal Human Guy, incredibly complex individual. ideal for fellow demons, young spiritualists in need of a mentor, or antagonists in need of a strong rival. somewhere between kind, loving, and absolutely brutal.
light: world's first democratically-elected gay man; host to a truly incredible amount of disabilities. two-time death game survivor. ideal for fellow kinda-psychics, folks interested in participating in harrowing death games, and other deeply traumatized individuals. will infodump at you.
richeh: quiet apprentice witch with a dislike for change. ideal for muses in need of a daughter or little sister, fellow spellcasters, and people whose idea of hanging out is sitting in a room & ignoring each other. very much the creative, artistic type.
rita: child prodigy, mage, scholar. orphan with zero socials skills, and no interest in sharpening those skills when she could be researching instead. ideal for muses who can dish it and take it, adventurers, and folks in need of a little sister who isn't afraid to set them on fire. very spiky on the outside -- beware.
sanji: cook, pirate, lover of women. proud owner of not one, but two tragic backstories. ideal for muses who enjoy eating, guys who like to fight, and pretty much anyone in between. will flirt with you. frontrunner for world's most self-sacrificial man.
sasha: superstar psychic secret agent who has green skin & wears sunglasses at night. ideal for psychics in need of a mentor & runaway children. very stern and guarded on the outside, but really just A Guy on the inside.
simon: ex-con prosecutor with a very rough exterior -- literally and metaphorically. ideal for suns in need of a moon, crime-adjacent muses, and folks with an interest in psychology. will do absolutely anything for the people he loves -- including but not limited to getting himself executed.
toya: street singer & soft boy extraordinaire who struggles to emote due to a very stifled upbringing. ideal for particularly energetic muses, musicians, and students in need of a tutor. very good at arcade games -- will win you a prize from the claw machine. will win you several prizes, actually.
yukito: world's gentlest man & alter ego of moon guardian yue. entirely unaware of the second thing. ideal for rough-around-the-edges folks, anyone in need of family, and sports teams in need of an extra player. somehow both incredibly observant and incredibly oblivious all at once.
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thesharkcollector · 6 months
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Shark of the Week! :Whale Shark
☆ 24/9/23 ☆
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
FUN FACTS BELOW !! :
♡ The LARGEST known shark in today age (LARGER than a schppl bus :O )
♡ Their literally organic filters! 😋 Meaning they can neither bite OR chew. And instead filter small fish and such in their mouth!
♡ Guess how stretchy their mouth is? 4 FEET WIDE! Thats literally the size of a HOCKEY NET!
♡ Are you an adventurous type and would LOVE to swim near these big fellas, well todays your day because they literally can be found ANWHERE! (Except for the mediterrian sea) In warm waters of course. :D
♡ Could you outrun outswim a whale shark? Well for anybody that competive, you got yourself an easy win! Why? Because they can only swim at not 10, not even 7 or 5 BUT ONLY 3/mph! slower than my grand papa 👴
♡ Makes you really wonder how they can migrate thousands of miles all around just to feed! Their quite motivated arent they?
♡ Their quite literally, a ocean-made strainer! When they close their mouth in a big chunk of small fish, plankton, etc. You may wonder if they just swallow the water with it, but thats far from the truth! Instead they use their gills to just strain the water out!
♡ Your probaly thinking that theirs nothing else intresting about these big sea dogs, WELL DO I HABE SOMETHING FOR YOU!
Did you know they have teeth on their eyes? You read right, TEETH! Their super tiny and are called dermal denticles, baha what a funky name- anyhow, why would a shark need this? Do they somehow eat out of their eyes too? Nope! Its protection against anythong out to harm them as they DONT have eyelids 👀
♡ Wanna know something really neat? Whale sharks can literally live up to 5 generations! A generation is qbout 20-30 while these sharks can live from 70 all the way up to 100!!
☆Now these sharks are all cute and dandy but their is a underlying issue here, their endangered sadly, over the last 75 years their population has dwindled more than 50% and still decreasing each year due to unfortunate truth of them global warming, water pollution and being fished,
where they're captured and have their fins and meat be taken, only to be dropped back into the harsh waters as their forced to suffocate and bleed out...
These whales are EXTREMELY important as their a long term regulation of plankton, with to much plankton it can start to harm the fish, shellfish, birds, mammals and even YOU! ☆
SOURCES!!
• 1-6 :
• 7-9 :
•10 : https://defenders.org
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genz420 · 1 year
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The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 54: From Green To Black.
Previous Part - Next Part 
Visenya had thanked all the gods that Aemond hadn’t wanted to be there to see them off.  She loves and trusts Aemond more than anyone else in the realm, but there is no way she would leave her children in the capital in seven hells.   
The new plan had been simple.  Ben would break the door, and Visenya would threaten the Kingsguard standing post outside the door.  Then they would take the kids and fly away on Morghon once they got to the tourney grounds.  
Their escape had not gone to plan.  
The two Kingsguard that were standing post were, in fact, from the Riverlands.   Both knew what Visenya meant to the Riverland people and the Lords and how Blackwoods were not a family to mess around with.  The Kingsguards had been all too happy to help them leave the Red Keep and make their way to the tourney grounds, already prepared with Ben's hammer and dagger for him.  
The black dragon had already been waiting for them as they arrived.  Like he knew what was going to happen. Visenya had wished that only two things were different.  One that Aemond was with them.  Two that she had been able to bring the twin's dragons with them.  
Visenya had thought that someone might spot them and turn them over to Aegon, but as she saw Meleys fly overhead, she knew that the Greens might be a little preoccupied.    
Visenya had arrived on Dragonstone shortly after her mother had finished giving birth to her stillborn sister.  Visenya doesn’t want to think too much about what her mother has gone through. She knows the pain of losing a child, yet to have to give birth to a child that is already dead was something Visenya hopes never to have to experience.  
During the funeral for the stillborn babe, Rhaenyra had been crowned, and everyone but Rhaenys bent the knee to her.  With both Visenya and Ben doing so.  
-- -- 
138 - Dragonstone 
Visenya and Ben watch as the table before them lights up from the flames of the candles underneath it.  While she lived at Dragonstone, the war table had always been one of her favourite things in the castle.  To know that her namesake once stood where she is, planning the conquering of Westeros.  
Visenya holds Aenar in her arms, rocking him to keep him asleep.  Laenor and Daenys play in front of the fireplace, Ben flicking his focus between the table and the twins to make sure they are safe.  Rhaenyra had suggested that children not be present. Still, there is no way in the seven hells that Visenya would let some midwife she doesn’t know around her children, even if her mother trusts the woman Visenya didn’t.  She took them away from the capital to keep them safe; now, the safest place for them is within her eye line.  
“What is our standing?” Rhaenyra asks as she holds her cup of wine.  As she looks upon the lit table, a feeling of dread washes over her.  She doesn’t want this war.  She doesn’t want to end the lives of thousands because Aegon has taken what is hers. Part of her feels like a child fighting over a toy with him.  
“We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms,” Daemon starts, watching as the table begins to set up.  They don’t have enough allies to win the war yet.  “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend.  Our army leaves a lot to be desired.  We have sent word to my men loyal in the city watch, I’ll have some support there, but I can not speak to the numbers,”
“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton,” The maester adds, looking to the lords around the table.   “Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,”
“I have 2000 or so men in the Riverlands split between the Flint cliff, Riverrun, and Reventree Hall,” Visenya says as she looks to Ben.   “I believe there are some men in the north, right?”  
“And who’s men are those?” Daemon asks, wondering why Visenya hadn’t mentioned that she has a small army ready.  Maybe they were men from other houses that she just collectively counted.  
“Mine,” Visenya tells Daemon before looking at her mother.   “They will fight for me and there for her grace,” 
“My lady mother was an Arrny,” Rhaenyra states as she nods at Visenya's words.  She knew that Visenya had gained a small number of men during her time away but didn’t think it was that much.  “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin,” 
“With Prince Daemon's acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Robert Tully,” The maester tells Rhaenyra, and Visenya looks to Ben, confused as to why they didn’t know about that beforehand.  
“Lord Tully is young, and he will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war,” Rhaenyra says, and Visenya and Ben both hold their tongues in telling everyone that Rob has more honour than any lord in the room.  
“Lord Tully and I have always fought alongside each other, and I do not doubt this time it will be any different,” Visenya defends her friend. She knows Rob would, without a doubt, support her mother and doesn’t need his honour questioned by people who don’t know him.   “He is young, yes, but he is honourable to those who deserve it,” 
“I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon tells the table, and both Visenya and Ben look at each other, not understanding why Deamon would go rather than Visenya and Ben.  
“What of Strom’s End and Winterfell?” Rhaenyra asks, looking at the table.  
With support from Winterfell and Riverrun, it would give them a better advantage. Rhaenyra knows that the Northerns are not oath breakers and would support her.  
“There has never lived a Stark who has forgotten an oath, and with House Stark the North follows,” Ben speaks up, defending his brother-by-law.  Not a single part of Ben doubts that the North will pledge their support for Rhaenyra. Even if they do not know her, Cregan will not allow any Northern houses to break the oath his father made or side against Visenya. 
“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” Rhaenyra says. She has never met the man but can only hope he is honourable like the rest of the Lords.  Rhaenyra looks to Rhaenys, offering her a smile.  “What news from Driftmark?”  
Rhaenys has made her intentions clear, she would not pledge support to Rhaenyra until Corlys and she talked about what they should do.  Rhaenys can’t help but hold a slight grudge towards Rhaenyra.  For being able to crowned Queen and for the part that she has played in Laenors death.  Rhaenys would have left to meet Corlys on Driftmark, but her granddaughters and Visenya's children are all on Dragonstone, and she would not leave them defenceless.  
“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys tells Rhaenyra, keeping her hands folded in front of her.  
“To declare for his Queen?” Daemon asks, his voice echoing around the room.  Visenya shakes her head at his question.  
“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke,” Rheanys tells Daemon.   “He decides where they sail,”
“We shall prey for both you and your husband’s support.  Just as we prayed for mightly Sea Snake’s to return to good health those years ago,” Rhaenyra tells Rhaenys.  She knows that they need the Velaryon fleet and that if the Greens were the ones who got it first, then they would lose their advantage at sea.   “There is no port on the Narrow Sea would dare to make an enemy of the Velayron fleet,”
Visenya clears her throat to gain the table's attention, gently rocking Aenar in her arms.  Even if she is tired and missing Aemond, she knows that this is an important time to ensure Rhaenyra understands that they have the advantage.  
“I would also like to say that the Iron Fleet has also-”
“Has a raven come so soon?” One of the lords cuts Visenya off.  
Visenya turns her head in the direction of the lord that has cut her off—giving him a sticky sweet smile that held no ounce of kindness.  Visenya had spent her time being cut off by Lord when planning for war, and never again would she allow that to happen. Visenya only wishes that she wasn’t holding Aenar or that the twins were in the room to show the Lord what would happen if she was interrupted again. 
“No, but Dalton Greyjoy is not as stupid as father was and has made it clear that when it comes to war, he will support whoever I do,” Visenya tells the Lord.  She will not be talked over or underestimated at this war table. Never again will she let the lords walk all over her. 
“And our enemies?” Rhaenyra asks, wanting to gain Visenya's attention.  The look in her daughter's eyes scare her, that anger of being cut off.  
“We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon tells Rhaenyra.  “Tyland and his brother have been serving the Hand too long to turn against him.  And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet,”
“Without the Lannisters, we any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” Rhaenyra says as she looks to the Westlands.  If they had support from the west, they would have a good supply of coin.  The Reach was the only kingdom with pockets as deep as the Westlands.  
“No,” Daemon agrees with Rhaenyra.  
“Expect for Faircastle and the Crag,” Visenya tells them. She wonders if her mother never tried to gain more allies in the house of the realm.  Did she genuinely think that this wasn’t going to happen?  “I fought alongside Lord Farman and Lord Westerling during the rebellion, and they know what will happen to their houses if they oppose us,”
“The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace,” Daemon tells Rhaenyra, and Visenya shakes her head slightly.  
The Riverland would side with them.  Visenya knows they will.  They should focus on gaining more allies and support from the Reach and Westlands rather the wasting their worries on the Riverlands. 
“Prey forgiveness my bluntness, your grace,” “But talk of men is moot.  Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the day of old Valyria.  Dragons,”
“The Greens have dragons as well,” Rhaenyra points out. She doesn’t want to think that it might come to dragons fighting dragons.  
“They have four adults, by my count.  We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys.  Your sons have Vermanx, Arrax, and Tyraxes.  Baela has Moondancer,” Daemon points out before he looks away from Rhaenyra and to their daughter.  “Visenya has Morghon,”
“Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war,” Rhaenyra tells him. Flying dragons wasn’t the same as riding them into battle or even flying away from another dragon that want to kill them.  
“Morghon has. He's been shot a few times and still flies with ease.  He burned most of the Iron Island during battle,”  Visenya tells her mother, remembering how scared she had been when Morghon was first shot with a scorpion arrow during the rebellion.  
Morghon may be young, but he would be a key player out of all the dragons on their side.  Visenya hopes that battle on dragonback will not come, that she will not have to face Vhagar and Aemond. Vhagar would only be the real threat to Morghon out of the four dragons.  
“There are also unclaimed dragons.  Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark.  Vermiithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmount. Still riderless,” Daemon rattles off, and Visenya holds her tongue in, telling him the Seasmoke was to be claimed by Laenor once he was old enough.   “Then there are the three wild dragons, all who nest here,”
“And who is to ride them?” Rhaenyra asks, annoyed that Daemon seems to forget that a person can only ride with one dragon at a time.  
There isn’t an amble supply of Valyiran descendants that can calm a dragon.  Visenya can’t help but think that maybe Jojen might be a solution. She knows that he has Valyrian blood and no doubt would jump a chance to calm a dragon.  
“Dragonstone has 14 to their 4.  I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon says.  He and Rhaenyra had been planning on giving at least one of those eggs to Visenya and Aemond for baby Aenar but times have changed. “Now we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host.  Here at Harrenhal, Princess Visenya has already agreed to take it.  We cut off the west and surround King’s Landing with the dragons, and we can have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns,”
Daemon rants as he walks around the table.  Visenya can’t help but worry at his last sentence.  Aemond has sided with the Greens, so there is no doubt that Daemon would want to include him with the other Greens.  
Visenya looks at her mother, eyes pleading not to hurt Aemond.  Rhaenyra looks at her daughter and feels pity. She knows how much Visenya loves Aemond and what his death would do to her.  She has already lost one daughter and would be dammed if she lost another.  
“Your Grace,” Ser Erryk intrupes Daemon's rant, gaining the attention of Rhaenyra.  “A ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-head green dragon.  Vhagar has also been circling Dragonstone,” 
“Alert the watchtowers.  Sight the skies,” Daemon tells the knight as he grabs Darksister off the table, moving towards the side exit of the room.   
Visenya looks to Ben, quickly handing him Aenar as she nods towards the twins.  Silently telling him to watch over them while she goes with Daemon.  Visenya knows that if Daemon had the chance, he would take out and hand him Aenar as she follows after him.  
“Do you plan to shoot my husband out of the skies?” Visenya asks Daemon as she quickens her pace to keep up with Daemon.  
“We do not have time for this, Visenya,” Daemon tells her.  Given the chance, he would, but he will not tell Visenya that.  Daemon has never liked Aemond. From the moment he claimed Vhagar after Laena's death, Daemon knew that Aemond would only be a headache.   That worsened when he saw how similar Visenya and Aemond's relationship was to his and Rhaenyras's.  “You should stay with your children,”
“No, because you might kill Aemond,” Visenya tells him, holding onto the hilt of her sword.  She knows that Daemon Aemond is a traitor, but she will not allow him to kill Aemond.  “I do not need my children to grow up without father as I did,” 
“You didn’t grow up without your father, Visenya,” Daemon tells Visenya, who rolls her eyes at his words.  To her, she did.  
“Aemond might be siding with them, but if you are going to put his head on a spike, then you should put mine alongside his,”  Visenya says, she will try to convenience her mother to spare Aemond, but she knows that Deamon will not care and will kill Aemond once her mother takes the throne.  
Daemon stops walking at her words, grabbing onto her arm to stop her.  He would never let any harm to come to Visenya so long as air filled his lungs. He knows she loves Aemond, but surely she would be able to move on once the one-eyed prince dies.  
“No harm will come to you-”
“Do not try and promise things that you can not keep,” Visenya cuts off Daemon, pulling her arm out of his hold and starting to walk again.   “I will also be the one going to the Riverlands.  Rob doesn’t like you,”
– – 
Visenya watches Vhagar and Morghon fly in the sky together, the younger and smaller dragon flying happily around the older dragon.  Visenya can feel Morghons happiness at being reunited with Vhagar, and she can’t help but wonder if the grumpy old fart was happy to see Morghon as well.  
Visenya looks away from the sky as Daemon passes her again, walking from one side of the bridge to the other.  She can tell that he is nervous about this meeting, maybe even a little happy that he might get to kill some Greens.  
Visenya plays with the red gem pommel of her sword, scared that Aemond will be angry with her. She knows he will be angry, but she will never leave the children alone in the capital.  Visenya relaxes as she sees Aemond as the greens get closer. He sticks out amongst the group.  
Otto grabs Aemonds grab as the prince tries to make his way toward Visenya.  Daemon does the same thing with Visenya, more gentle as he holds her arm.   Visenya looks between Aemond and Daemon before looking down at her feet.  
“I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent.  Mother of King Aegon, second of his name, Lord and protector of the Seven Kingdoms,” Otto says, and Visenya and Daemon can’t help but roll their eyes at the nonsense.   “I’ve been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra.  Where is the Princess?”
The unmistakable roar of Syraxs rings through the air, and the yellow dragon flies over Dragonstone and towards the meeting.  Visenya watches her mother and Syrax fly through the sky, smiling to herself before looking at Aemond, who is already looking at her.  Visenya can see the pleading look in his eye, pleading for her to talk with him.  She can also see the anger.  
Visenya moves away from Daemon's side and towards the Greens.  The Kingsguards and the Hightower knights pull out their swords as she nears them. Visenya puts her hands in the air to show that she does not mean to draw her sword.  Daemon steps forward and grabs Visenya's arm, giving it a yank to make her return to their side.  Visenya gives Daemon a look and pulls her arm out of his hold. As she looks back, the Greens have put their swords away, and Aemonds head snaps back to look at her.  
Visenya makes her way toward Aemond and grabs his hand, pulling him through the greens.  Visenya bows as she passes her mother, who is also walking through the group.  Visenya and Aemond stand in front of Syrax, who pays them no attention, rather keeping it on her rider.  
Aemond grabs Visenya's other hand and holds them in a tight grip.  He may be mad that she has taken the children away and gone against their plan, but he is relieved to see that she is okay.  Alicent had not been happy after learning of Visenya leaving, even angrier once she realized that Visenya had taken the children with her.  Aemond had been angry too, but he should have known that Visenya is too headstrong to leave the children in the capital.  
“​​Skoros sia ao otāpagon? īlē naejot henujagon zirȳ-”
What were you thinking? You were to leave them-
“daor! ao jeldan nyke naejot henujagon zirȳ konīr.  Īlen dōrī kȳvanon va ivestragī ñuha riñar sagon gaomagon nyke,” Visenya intrupes Aemond, taking a step closer to him.  
No! You wanted me to leave them there.  I was never planning on letting my children be used against me.
Visenya quickly looks over to the knights of house Hightower who were watching them. Even if they didn’t understand what the two were saying, it is clear that it wasn’t a love-filled reunion.  Aemond grabs Visenya's hand, gaining her attention again.  Aemond leans down closer to Visenya's face.  
“issi ȳgha lēda nyke,” Aemond whispers softly.  He can’t help but think that Visenya didn’t trust him to protect the children, so she took them.  
They are safer with me.
“kessi sagon sesīr ȳgha lēda nyke.  Gaoman daor kȳvanon naejot ivestragī zirȳ henujagon ñuha sight iā sagon watched ondoso vali nyke ȳdra daor pāsagon.  Ao gīmigon se Riverland vali, gīmigon issi pazavor naejot nyke se would morghūljagon naejot mīsagon zirȳ.  Skoriot else would ēzi bona sȳz hen?” Visenya tells Aemond.  
They will be even safer with me.  I do not plan to let them leave my sight or be watched by men I don't trust.  You know the Riverland men, know they are loyal to me and would die to protect them.  Where else would they have that kind of protection?
“Qilōni iksis lēda zirȳ sir?” Aemond asks after he takes in her words.  
Who is with them now?
Aemond didn’t want to lose both Visenya and the children, to be alone.   He had been blind in that he knows the children would be safer with Visenya than him, that the men Visenya would be around would protect them all.  He didn’t want to lose all of Visenya.  Part of Aemond is tempted to take Visenya away, have Ben return to the capital with the kids and lock them all away.  Even the Blackwood knight.  
“Qilōni gaomagon ao pendagon.  Nyke ȳdra daor emagon ñuha sȳndor lēda nyke,” Visenya tries to joke, but Aemond just nods.  He is happy to know that they are with Ben. Out of everyone at Dragonstone, Aemond knows that Ben will keep them safe while Visenya is with him.  
Who do you think?  I don’t have my shadow with me.  
“Jaelan naejot ūndegon zirȳ,” Aemond tells Visenya, who nods.  She is glad that Aemond is here, that he can have a proper goodbye with the twins and Aenar.  
I want to see them.  
“Prince Aemond,” Otto interrupts the two, making them both step away from one another, but Aemond keeps his hold on Visenya's hand tight.  “We are to be leaving,”
“You are more than welcome to leave Dragonstone,” Visenya tells Otto.  “Prince Aemond and I are still having a conversation,”
Visenya's words make Otto turn his attention away from his grandson and onto Visenya.  He had been hoping Aemond would make sure Visenya would stay in the capital to be used as a bargaining chip for her mother.  Then the children being with Visenya removed all hope the Greens had for winning the war.  Alicent would not allow Aemond to be the way they can hurt Visenya.  
“Princess Visenya.  The Dowager Queen Alicent is willing to offer you forgiveness for siding with your mother.   She understands that you have a duty to your mother and father,” Otto tells her, and Visenya narrows her eyes at his use of the word father.  Maybe Otto was just losing his mind in his old age, or perhaps he knew exactly what he was implying. 
“My father is dead,” Visenya reminds Otto, who bows his head in apologies.   
“Forgive me, Princess.  Your mother and Prince Daemon,” Otto clarifies, smiling at the princess before leaving her and Aemond alone.  
Visenya shakes her head and looks to the Black side. She can see her mother making her way back up the many steps, and Daemon is in the same place she had left him.  Daemon watches Aemond and Visenya with a close eye, leaning on his sword.   
“Prince Daemon,” Visenya calls to him, and Daemon quickly picks up his sword and walks towards his daughter and her husband.    “Could you please ask Ser Blackwood to bring my children out here.  Prince Aemond will leave after,” 
“Is he going to change sides?” Daemon asks like the answer chose if Aemond will be allowed to see his children.  
“He just wants to say goodbye to them.  I’m sure you can understand that,” Visenya tells Daemon.  She will not keep her children away from Aemond just because of the side he chose.  
Daemon looks between the two before turning and heading back to the castle.  Visenya relaxes as Daemon leaves, looking at Aemond and smiling at him.  Aemond looks at Visenya, taking note of every little detail of her face.  Aemond leans down and kisses Visenya's forehead.  
“Any chance that I can convince you to stay?” Visenya asks Aemond.   She hopes he says yes and never returns to King’s Landing so that they can fight together again.  
Aemond hums at her question, and Visenya can not tell if it is a yes or no.  Aemond pulls Visenya closer to him into a hug.  The familiar warmth of her makes him ache to just stay on Dragonstone with her.    If he would just side with them, there would be no need for this war if he could just put aside his differences with the Strong boys.  
He knows that Aegon will not be a good king.  He knows that Rhaenyra would be better.  
While Aegon sits on the throne, he can keep them safe.  Use his brother's trust in him to keep Visenya and the children safe.  He will be able to tell Visenya about the attacks that Aegon plans so that she might stay away from them.  
The words from the small council meeting that happened this morning ring in his head.  How Aegon had wanted to declare Visenya a traitor, strip her of her titles, and have her and Aemond marriage annulled.  That Aemond would remarry to make another allyship.  
That had been the last straw for him.  
Even if his mother had stopped Aegon from doing so, knowing that Aegon could do whatever he wanted to scares him.   He will not leave King’s Landing. He will be a traitor to the Greens and will provide any information he can to the Blacks.  When the right time comes, he will leave the Green's side and fight alongside Visenya again.  
He would gladly take death if it meant that he can help Visenya.  
– – 
“It is no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer,” Daemon says, playing with one of the figures on the table.   “But dragons can kill dragons.  And have.  The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon,”
“My father often spoke of the Valyrian histories. I know them well,” Rhaenyra tells Daemon. She doesn’t want to fly their dragons into war.  If she did, then so many innocent people would die. “When dragons flew to war, everything burned.  I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone,”
“Are you considering the Hightower’s terms, Your Grace?” Visenya asks her mother, part of her is hoping that she is and will be able to return to her old life.  
“As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm?” Rhaenyra asks out loud before answering her question with two options.  “Ensuring peace and unity? Or that I sit on the Iron Throne, no matter the cost?”
“That’s your father talking,” Daemon spits out as he walks around the table, leaving Visenya's side and making his way toward the fireplace. 
Daemon thinks they should act now while they still have the upper hand.  They have enough dragons to imitate the greens into surrendering and, if not that, then burn down King’s Landing.  They can rebuild.
“My father’s dead,” Rhaenyra reminds Daemon, her patience with him growing thin.  “And he chose me as his successor.  To defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war,”
“Well, the enemy has declared war,” Daemon shouts across the room at Rhaenyra.  “What are you going to do about it?”
Visenya's eyebrows are raised at his tone, looking at Ben, who looks just as shocked at the Rogue Prince's words.  Everyone is stressed about the upcoming war, yet they wouldn’t dare to take that tone with Rhaenyra.  
“Clear the room,” Rhaenyra tells everyone, starting at Daemon.  
She will not allow him to talk to her in this manner in front of so many people or even in private.   She wonders if Daemon holds some ill feelings towards the fact that he had the title of heir stripped of him all those years ago.  
Everyone bows their head down to Rhaenyra as they walk past her.  Ben walks close beside Visenya, a hand on his dagger.  Ben doesn’t know these lords and doesn’t trust any of them as far as he can throw them.  He thinks that he, Visenya, and the children should be leaving for the Riverlands as soon as possible, that they would be safe with the Lords loyal to Visenya.  
Ben worries that this war might not go to plan.  That not just the Greens and Blacks would play their part.  He knows that the only reason Rhaenyra has the support of the Riverlands and the Iron Islands is because of Visenya.  He knows the Riverland lords will not keep loyal to Rhaenyra if they were given a chance to follow a leader they liked more, that they see fit to rule.  One that has fought with them.   He knows that the Riverland, Iron Islands, and whoever else pledges loyal to Rhaenyra because of Visenya will change sides to support Visenya given the chance. 
The Black's only chance at winning is Visenya and the North.  Yet it seems that only a few people on the Black council understand that.  Understand that if Visenya would plead her own claim to the throne, she would have the majority support of the Seven Kingdoms.
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