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grannyandgrandpascreations · 1 year

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Mr. Rogers Did Not Adequately Prepare Me For The People In My Neighborhood Garden Yard Flag

Shop our Mr. Rogers Did Not Adequately Prepare Me For The People In My Neighborhood Garden Yard Flag! This is a perfect gift for anyone who wants to joke around with their neighbors. Our Garden Yard Flags make great Housewarming Gifts! Shop Granny and Grandpa’s Custom Creations other Garden Flags!

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Fabric Care Instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Air dry.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Flag post is NOT included.

All items are created or designed by Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations. We also print and heat press our items using our professional, commercial grade heat press! Each design is made with High Quality, Heat Transfer Vinyl.

After a package leaves my hands with the post office, Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations is not held responsible. Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU!

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop to view more of our creations!

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Our designed is on a durable 11.81 x 17.72 inches, white single layer, polyester durable garden flag.

Fabric Care Instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Air dry.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Flag post is NOT included.

Thank you so much for supporting our "small Granny & Grandpa's Shop", we truly appreciate YOU!

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop to view more of our creations!

LET’S GET SOCIAL & BE FRIENDS! Like, Tag & Follow us for Our new Creations, Inspiration & Giveaways!

website/ www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com/shop

facebook.com/ https://www.facebook.com/GrandpaHandmadecreations/

instagram.com/ https://www.instagram.com/grannyandgrandpacustomcreation/

goimagine.com/ https://goimagine.com/granny-and-grandpas-custom-creations/

pinterest.com/https://www.pinterest.com/grannyscustomcreations

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postergarden · 6 months

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Enhance Your Outdoor Display with all-Weather Durable Outdoor Flags

Introducing our premium durable outdoor flags - built to withstand the elements and stand the test of time! Crafted with high-quality materials, our flags are designed to flutter proudly in the wind while maintaining vibrant colors. UV-resistant, weatherproof, and made for long-lasting durability. Up to 15 feet of guaranteed brand visibility at any time or place.

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distantdarlings · 6 months

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SPEAK OF THE DEVIL // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* During an after-game Quidditch party, Theo approaches you, intending on reconnecting with his on-and-off ex, you. You are not interested, at least, not originally. He quickly changes your mind, though, just as he always does.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! No protection - piv, Language, slight praise kink, fem reader, slight begging, slight resistance from reader at first, dom!Theo

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Half of My Heart - Josh Makazo

---

The wind rushed against the Quidditch stands, blowing the team flags up and around the stadium. You gasped and ducked as one flew right over the Slytherin stands. Next to you, Pansy burst out laughing as you helped each other to your feet. It had narrowly missed her, as well.

“That was insane!” she laughed. The two of you huddled together in an attempt to pool some warmth between the two of you, to no avail. It had to be close to below freezing. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sky started dropping snow soon, and with the blanketed, gray light overhead, you figured that would be happening rather quickly.

Around you, shivering students chanted a few cheers for the Slytherin team, ensuring that the shitty weather could never get them down. Even the Gryffindor team had dampened a bit, but not the Slytherins. A prideful smile beamed on your face. Pansy and you joined in the hooting and hollering.

Overhead, three green jerseys swooped downward, causing several students to duck again. You thought you heard a few professors gasp over the cheers. Once the players had passed over the students, you saw them split and tackle different sides of the pitch. This was a strategic maneuver to get the Gryffindor beaters away from their seeker so the Slytherin seeker could focus solely on catching the Snitch. Anticipation burned in the air as the tension between the two teams swelled at this tactic. Merlin, you loved Quidditch. Who didn’t?

And in a matter of a few minutes, the Slytherin players had successfully deflected the Gryffindor Beaters’ attempt to ward them off, sacked a couple bludgers toward their Seeker, and allowed their Seeker enough time to spot the Snitch and soar after it. By the time he had caught the small, golden thing and dived back down into the main part of the pitch, the roar of the Slytherin crowd was deafening. You could barely feel your fingers or toes, but you couldn’t care less. Slytherin had won, which meant that the aftergame party was going to be fun.

The group of green-clad students began to pour out of the stands and toward the common room as the Quidditch players exited the field. Pansy ranted back and forth with you on the strategies used in this evening’s game. You laughed and teased the whole way back. The two of you had discussed outfits for hours after classes had ended today and, thanks to your obvious inability to remain realistic in your expectations, had set out your selected clothing for the party. In your minds, there was no way Slytherin wouldn’t win tonight, and you had been right.

Once back in the common room, students were flashing up the stairs, running to grab their outfits and stashed bottles of firewhisky, amongst other stashed things, so generously donated by the Hufflepuffs. The two of you giggled as you made your way into your dorm room, quickly shutting the door behind you. A few of your other roommates had already returned and were changing. The group of you squealed in excitement, ramping each other up. You all had plans for the evening, ones that had been discussed over secretive shots the night before.

Your plan was to find a bit of a distraction tonight. In the last year, you and your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott, had bounced on and off with each other. No matter how many times you had called it quits, you kept finding yourself back in his bed, beneath his strong, warm—

“Hey, come on!” Pansy shook you. “Get dressed!” You laughed along with her and began pulling your heavy winter clothing off. This was going to be a night to remember for all of the right reasons, not because of Theo.

You selected the dress you’d reserved especially for this party and slid it over your body, letting it fall down the expanse of your hips. Pansy appeared behind you to zip it up, marveling at its gorgeous design: a small black thing with a high neck and no sleeves. Perfect for the evening, in your opinion. You slipped into the black heels you’d picked out last night and pulled a necklace over your head. It was silvered with an ornate snake carved into the charm at the bottom of the chain. Nothing wrong with a little bit of house pride.

“Okay, let’s head down!” Pansy announced to the others in the room. The small group gathered closer and filed out the door. You gathered the larger group of students in the hallway filtering through the passageway and into the common room. Like magic, it had transformed into a gorgeous scene of celebratory banners and music. You poured into the enormous amount of students, all dispersing randomly. Pansy squeezed your hand politely before briefly leaving you to go find someone.

You pushed through the crowd, feeling the bass of the music pound in your chest. Excitement built in your chest, pushing small pants out of your lips. Your mind was set on finding someone new tonight and the anticipation of getting to know someone like you had once known Theo made your heart flutter. Then again, no one had ever known you better than he had. His hands had traveled every inch of your body and learned you so personally as if he had sculpted you.

“Looking for someone?” A sly whisper appeared in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of the voice so close to you. You turned and came face-to-face with Theo. Speak of the Devil…You rolled your eyes and turned, intending to leave him behind. You weren’t doing this. His hand gripped your arm roughly, his eyes dark and needy when they found yours. Shit.

Your body slammed against the door of his dorm. You moaned loudly into his mouth as his hands ran smoothly up and down your body. Sculpting you, shaping you, just like always. Nobody’s hands compared to his. His fingers trailed up the outsides of your thighs, slipping slyly beneath the material of your dress.

Suddenly, he ripped the material up and over your hips. You gasped at the sudden movement, hissing as he bit down onto your bottom lip. Your hand slapped against his chest as a blossom of pain spurted against your teeth. He mumbled a breathy apology against your mouth before resuming his previous activities. His fingers curled beneath the thin waistband of your panties, slowly tugging them higher and higher. The material of the undergarment pressed against your core, eliciting a spark of pleasure behind your eyes. Your hands tightened in his hair.

“Mm,” you pulled away from his lips, “we shouldn’t be doing this.” You struggled to get the words out around his insistent kisses. Every syllable you spoke was lost against his rough lips, marking every inch of your own. “Theo, you know we’re just going to regret it.” Yet you didn’t stop kissing him back. You couldn’t stop. His taste, his touch, his smell…It was addicting, and pushed more heat between your thighs than anyone else ever could.

“Tell me to stop, then,” he mumbled into another kiss.

“What?” His lips separated from yours and began to trail down your neck. The cleavage parted in your dress granted him just enough access for his teeth to scrape the soft flesh of your breasts. A silent moan parted your lips as you leaned your head back against the door. His large hands held you firmly in place. His head began to move past your chest. As he lowered to his knees before you, his fingers slipped into the sleeves of your dress, wrapping tightly in the material. As he dropped before you, he roughly tugged the garment down over you. You yelped as your chest was exposed to the cold air. Your dress remained scrunched up around your waist as one of his hands traced delicately over your clothed core and the other massaged your left breast. You couldn’t contain your moans any longer.

“Teddy,” you moaned breathlessly, letting your favorite nickname for him paint the walls of the room. You never called him that unless he was pleasuring you in some way and, fuck, was he ever doing exactly that.

You ground your hips against his fingers, trying to gather a bit of friction against yourself. Just as you’d come into contact with his perfect fingers, he pulled away. He smirked devilishly at the whine that fell from your lips.

“Should I stop, baby?” he murmured against your lips. “Don’t want you to regret me…” He laid an open-mouthed kiss to the outside of your left thigh, maintaining darkened eye contact with you.

“No, don’t stop, please baby,” you begged, your hands curling in his hair. You tried to push him closer to you, to press his face to you. But you couldn’t, he was much too strong.

He got to his feet, pressing his face closely against your ear, his lips brushing against you. A shudder fell down your spine as your knees weakened.

“Beg for it,” he whispered. He pressed small kisses to your jaw, reiterating he wanted to hear you beg until you finally caved.

“Ugh, please, Teddy,” you whined, bucking your hips against his, eyes rolling back at the contact it made. “Please fuck me, baby. ‘ve missed you so fucking bad.” A smirk fell on his face as he lifted you into his arms, wrapping your thick thighs around his waist. Your mouths found each other again and he claimed every inch of your tongue as his own.

“Always miss me, baby?” he breathed into your mouth. “Think about this sweet mouth every day.” His hand gripped your jaw, holding it perfectly still. He walked the two of you away from the door and laid you against his bed, careful to set you down gently.

“Raise your hips,” he instructed. You did so, allowing him to slip the rest of your dress off your body. The only thing left on you was your thin underwear, already soaked through with your arousal. You shook in anticipation as his fingers slowly glided against your naked thighs. Your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. They crush down on it until you taste metal, the reddened material painting your lips.

“So pretty,” he moaned, pressing his mouth to yours. His spit mixed with your blood, his tongue carving a new taste against you.

His hands, rushed and rough, tore through your panties with strong, mean fingers. You whimpered against his lips at the sudden action. The tips of his fingers slid against your core, tracing your wetness all around you. Your head pushed back, separating your lips.

“Turn around,” he said. “Now.” You nodded your head and promptly obeyed, flipping yourself over. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked your ass into the air. Your teeth closed around your folded arms, trying your best to keep your noises to a minimum.

Behind you, you could hear him undoing his trousers and pulling them down. The bed creaked and shifted as he got to his feet and slid them all the way off. Your hips swayed impatiently, waiting to feel his touch again, desperate to feel it.

“Please, Teddy,” you whined, spreading your legs even wider. You could feel the wetness from your core sliding down between your thighs, slowly coating his comforter. No one had an effect on you like this.

It never mattered who you were with. If they had magic fingers, the perfect mouth, none of them compared to Theo. Traits as simple as his voice had your legs pressing together, from the very moment you’d met him. The very first time he touched you had been imprinted in your mind, tracing your eyelids every time you closed them.

His fingers brushed against your entrance, sending shocks of fire through your body. You gasped and tightened your fingers painfully hard in his sheets. Merlin, this was where you were meant to be. Pressed into his mattress, inhaling his scent, his body claiming yours. Fuck, you were pathetic.

His hands wrapped around your hips, carefully lining himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing himself into you. Sharp heat split through your body, carving a line down your abdomen. It had been a while, but you hadn’t expected yourself to be so tightened up. Your muscles tensed roughly until he bottomed out with a breathless groan. You relaxed into the bed, barely holding yourself up. He gave you a minute, then two, until you nodded your head, eyes clenched and wanting. The two of you knew each other so perfectly well, no words needed to be spoken. He knew every inch of your body better than you knew it, yourself. His tongue and his fingers and every part of him knew you better than anyone else and he took you as such. He began to move.

The feeling of him moving himself back and forth, traced every part of you from the inside to the out. Your lips parted in a silent scream, relishing in the sensation you’d missed so dearly, that no one else could recreate. You could tell he felt the same way. A brief glance back revealed a flushed, pleasured Theo; his lips parted, musical grunts leaving his throat, his eyes fluttering shut. You’d have never known what he looked like if you hadn’t looked back, because he tended to be the “big man” in bed, always doling out your pleasure and keeping face. He wasn’t such a big man, you realized smugly, you were the same drug to him, as he was to you. A particularly sharp thrust had shoved a scream through your lips.

His hands slid up from your hips and found your chest. He swiftly pulled you up and against his chest, his sticky skin melding with yours. His hips never faltered and the change in position had him hitting new parts of you. His lips were against your ear, whispering sweet nothings and kissing the areas surrounding.

“Feel good, baby?” he groaned. You nodded weakly. “Yeah, baby, yeah?” His pace fastened, the speed working you towards the end of all things. Your breaths came out in short, hot pants. His fingers curved over your chest, tracing the tips of your breasts, forcing your end closer and closer. You tightened around him at your fast-approaching finish. He groaned at the sensation.

“Mmm, missed this fucking cunt, baby,” he grunted out. “Always squeezing me so well.” His lips pressed to your neck, creating a tight suction with his teeth anywhere he could. The bruises he left there were going to remain for days, alerting all who spotted them that you were his and no one else’s. The thought was enough to push you over the edge. You came around him hard.

The sensation of your finish pushed him against his, which he announced with one more whiny moan and shaking thighs. His hot release painted every inch of your insides, soothing the rough force with which he’d fucked you.

The two of you collapsed against the bed, side-by-side, and watched each other with heavily-lidded eyes. And once again, you realized, the two of you were back in the same position you always were. The regret hadn’t yet had time to bury itself into your stomachs, and the guilt hadn’t made its way to your hearts yet, but in the few hours after, you’d graced each other with immeasurable pleasure; that was your favorite. His thumb traced gently over your lips, shaking slightly with the afterglow of your love.

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #fem reader

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ecstacy-appleofmyeye · 4 months

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cabin 15//hypnos children headcanons!!

a/n: the hcs will be edited and updated as i come up with more of them

most demigod kids get claimed after an important event—like percy when he won the capture-the-flag game—others get claimed in fancy ways, usually the symbol of their godly parent appearing above their heads—like leo and piper when they first came to camp.

not hypnos kids, no.

they get claimed in their dreams, or at night—when most campers are already asleep so there's no one to witness it.

like some—in rare occurrences—Hephaestus kids are fire resistant, or how some Aphrodite kids have charmspeak, there were times where a children of hypnos with wings came to camp*(will talk in detail later). others were equally amazing, and a bit intimidating. they could put people in comas or wake them from one.

a lot of hypnos kids suffer from insomnia, narcolepsy and some have had/have sleep paralysis demons. tho it's very uncommon for them to get nightmares, since they have dream manipulation.

when a camper has so many nightmares that they can't even sleep properly, their first option is always the hypnos cabin.

in ‘the lost hero’ it says that the cabin smells like fresh laundry and soft violin music always plays in the background so they atmosphere of the cabin is always relaxing and it manages to lull you to sleep if you aren't careful

also the beds are always comfy for everyone sleeping, the sheets are hot/cold depending on the weather and the kid’s preferences, but they're always soft like you're hugging clouds.

there are many flower pots with poppies insides and they always smell fresh no matter how long they've probably been there.

i bet lots of them know how to do those calming massages that relieve tense muscles

the hypnos kids are fun to be around when they aren't sleeping or sleepwalking (i hc that clovis sleepwalks and one time he had a face full of mud after he tripped on a root at the strawberry fields)

ahem, anyway

most prefer to hang out in their dreams. you basically get to do everything you can do in real life without worrying about injuries or money.

i think most of them would have blond/light brown hair with gray or blue (maybe green?) eyes. they're pretty average in height. most aren't that athletic and are more artistic (they're besties with the apollo kids they told me themselves actually)

they have an unspoken solidarity with the hades/nyx/hecate/thanatos kids. being kids of the underworld gods was bound to get you some nasty and fearful stares from others, so they always made sure to have each other's backs.

thanatos kids are literally their cousins (from their godly parents’ side) so they feel particularly close to them. they think of them as honorary members of the cabin and they're always welcome and vice versa.

like i was saying, they prefer to hang out with their friends in their dreams, but they also like to take walks along the lake or be with the apollo kids at the arts and crafts

it's also not uncommon to find at least one hypnos kid at the peagasus stables

they're very sweet and loyal to their friends. they're also very willing to help, when they aren't napping inside a canoe

being a child of a minor god doesn't attract a lot of monsters and being a child of an underworld god, most monsters from the underworld know best than to underestimate kids of hypnos.

they don't need to fight a lot, but they're pretty good at it. a lot of them are fast learns and they also have time to practice in their dreams if they want too.

hypnos kids either have freckles or moles

source: me

trust me on this one

they like chocolate on everything. not even a specific type of chocolate, white chocolate, milk, dark chocolate, lactose free chocolate, chocolate milk etc.

they're great friends with nyx and thanatos kids. and some apollo kids too. they also get along with nico and hazel

*now i mentioned that some hypnos kids have wings like their father does.

i think they'd be a very soft/faint colour with a gradient. like a baby(or pastel) blue that fades into light gray. others have had darker coloured wings; dark purple that slowly fades into lilac, or dark blue that fades to the colour of the morning sky.

winged kids of hypnos always had a strange fascination with birds (many thought that they were aphrodite kids 'cause they liked doves and other birds)

they also had a strange obsession with gathering bird feathers and they always got scolded to not pick them put with their bare hands cuz it's unsanitary

some of these kids liked feather pens too for the same reason.

their least favourite food was chicken because they pitied the poor bird :(

edit(09/02/2024): every hypnos kid has this calming aura around them that makes others to zone out and sometimes fall asleep. they don't do it on purpose, it's a weird thing they naturally do.

underworld kids are usually closer to their parents, since they don't have as many responsibilities as the 12 olympian gods(tho they still do important jobs)

it isn't uncommon for a hypnos kid to be visited by their dad in their dreams.

sometimes that happens when they haven't arrived at camp yet. it's a way for Hypnos to watch over his kids and see how they are. many hypnos kids have had dreams were an odd figure with wings follows them around.

it's unsettling but since dreams are also their domain they felt calm (for the most part).

since hypnos is nyx's son, children of hypnos get small blessings from nyx. they're very close to her, and she loves all her grandchildren like her own kids.

some of the blessings include seeing in the dark (hence why most hypnos kids having light coloured eyes).

lots of hypnos kids listen to (mostly) calming music (ex classical, instrumental music).

there is a small cabin somewhere in the back that always has warm milk to help them sleep if they need to.

they get very clingy and grumpy when tired.

#the-tower's-archive #hypnos cabin #cabin 15 #headcanon #hypnos headcanons #percy jackson #child of hypnos

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fanofstuff02 · 1 month

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It’s me again

I have came up with an Highschool AU, I’m working on it but I saw one thing I hadn’t done yet

You see Adam has a band in this, they make covers for songs but I have no clue what to call it. I need ideas everyone

Members:

Adam: (Guitarist, singer)

Emily: (Pianist, singer)

Lute: (Drummer, singer)

Eve (Guitarist, singer)

Michael (Yk that dude who fixes the music, that works on computer? He’s that guy. And not a singer)

Ex member: Lilith (singer)

Songs they had covered:

Sweather Weather -The Neighbourhood (Adam)

Stick It to the Man (Couldn’t resist. Adam)

Teeth -5 Seconds of Summer (Adam)

Hayloft || -Mother Mother (Adam)

Let Her Go -Passenger (Adam)

Blank Space -Taylor Swift (Eve)

Paper Rings -Taylor Swift (Eve)

Cannibal -Kesha (Again couldn’t resist, Eve)

If U Seek Amy -Britney Spears (Eve)

Hot N Cold -Katy Perry (Eve)

Little Miss Perfect (Lute)

Could Have Been Me -Halsey (Lute)

Are You Satisfied? -MARINA (Lute)

mona lisa -mxmtoon (Emily)

Set It All Free -Scarlett Johnson (Emily)

Ordinary -Joriah Kwamé, Allie Grace (Emily)

Judas -Lady Gaga (Lilith)

Edit: I decided Red Flags would be a little inappropriate even if both Adam and Lilith were 18 at the time, since they were still highschoolers. I do want them to do a silly duet though

Extra info: Adam doesn’t want their name to contain something from themselves.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 (Wondering your opinion)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel michael #hazbin hotel eve #hazbin eve #hazbin michael #hazbin emily #hazbin lute #Well this is a good way to tell you what songs they did lmao

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missamyrisa2 · 6 months

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A Holiday Tickle

one of my most favorite things I've written ~! I would just reblog it from my old Tumblr but since that has been flagged into near dust I'm posting a fresh copy, with a few added teases ❤️

A lively fire burned on the hearth, nestled under a lovely mantle adorned with a little Christmas village, a fluffy band of garland, and two stockings. Off to one side was a beautiful big chair with golden edges and red cushions, positioned just right to have the perfect aura of warmth from the fireplace. Maggie sat with endless contentment on this chair, her absolute favorite in the house. In one hand, her red acrylic nails grasped the stem of a wine glass, half-full with the deep red liquid. Taking a sniff and allowing the chocolate-y nose to waft in her nostrils, she proceeded to finish the glass in two large gulps.

Carefully placing the wine glass on the nearby end table and refilling it to the top, Maggie scooted against the tall back of the chair, fixing the red stocking cap which sat atop her long raven-black hair. The bold red was a perfect color match to her sleeveless top, which was scooped to show a bit of her ample cleavage, and was accented with a shiny black belt around her waist. The wide black belt hugging her luxurious curves, decorated with a big silver-tone buckle, was in turn, a match to her plain black skirt, which stopped just above the knees of her pleasingly plump legs. But neither color matched the guy sitting on her lap, who squirmed in anticipation as she refilled her glass.

He wore nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts over his tall, slender form. His arms were bound in front of him with a string of Christmas lights, from his wrists to his elbows. Atop his head of long beautiful light brown hair was a black headband, which had reindeer antlers sprouting from either side. He might have protested such an accessory, has mouth not been covered with a red silk scarf, elegantly tied in a bow over his lips. Maggie had her right arm slung around his back, her fingers holding his side tight as she took another drink from her glass before setting it on the table, turning her hazel eyes to his ice blues. Humming a melody softly, she then began singing Sleigh Ride in a lovely soprano.

"Just hear those sleigh bells jingle-ing Ring ting tickling too! Come on, it's lovely weather For a goochie-goo together with you!"

Gradually gaining speed with her words, she began gently squeezing his side with her nails, her left hand now gracefully stroking and poking his belly button as she continued the next verse. He mumbled an "mmpph!" through his gag.

"Outside the snow is falling And my fingers are calling 'tickly tooooo' Come on, it's lovely weather For a goochie-goo together with you!"

He flopped in her grip, breaking out in muffled giggles as she delighted in touching every square millimeter of his soft and smooth tummy. His defiance and resistance through the gag to her tickles only further emboldened her touchy teasing. As she continued, she began bumping her legs up and down in time with her song.

"Giddy-yap giddy-yap giddy-yap Let's gooooooo Let's look at those knees You're riding on a wonderland of glee"

Maggie moved her left hand down to squeeze his hairless legs just above the knees, chuckling as he kicked in protest against the side of the chair. Her right hand moved down slightly, grasping and tickling at his side and hip at the same time. He blushed as he noticed her gaze trailing down to the bulge growing in his underwear, and caught him as he was trying to reach for it. Shifting her hands, she moved her right hand up, and snatched his arms by the green cord binding them.

"Giddy-yap giddy-yap giddy-yap it's grand Just holding your hands I'm gliding along with this song Of wintry tickly land!"

As one hand held his arms up, the other freely explored his tender underarms, nails gliding along the pristine skin and fluttering about. His laughter seeped through the scarf, body bucking against her lap. She eventually slowed, released his bound appendages, and reached over at the table. Continuing her tune, Maggie dipped a blusher brush in a container of pink powder, and began merrily applying it to his cheeks with a big smile. He struggled on her lap, squealing as she put the scented makeup on his cheeks.

"Your cheeks are nice and rosy And comfy cozy are we We're snuggled up together like a boy And girl with a feather would be"

Exchanging the supple brush for a long fluffy white feather, Maggie again held her toy tight as she drew long strokes over his chest with her tool. He squirmed, rolling back and forth on her lap, trying to avoid the soft instrument. His tummy twitched madly as that supple tip probed for tickle spots stroking about and dipping into his bouncy navel.

"Let's take the road before us And sing a chorus or two Come on, it's lovely weather For a goochie-goo together with you"

When she began running the feather over his neck, he rolled hard against her, then squealed as the cold metal of her oversized belt buckle touched his abdomen. Maggie laughed and held him tight against it with one hand by the small of his back, the other briskly running its fingertips up and down his side. His muffled laughs grew louder, body thrashing around like a wild fish. His tush was given playful pinches and spanks as she made him flop endlessly. She then let him roll back as she gently rubbed his nape, her other hand trailing down his chest and midsection.

"There's a tickle party at the home of lovely… me! It'll be the perfect ending of a perfect day I'll be singing the songs I love to sing without a single stop At the fireplace while I watch your boners pop Pop! Pop! Pop!"

She sang, her index finger’s nail tip lightly rubbing the peak of his swell. He moaned softly at her touch, wanting to roll but lying perfectly still as she kept him on the edge. He wanted her touch so badly, wanted to press to her curvy chest and just wanted her so badly now he took every tease she gave. Drawing a finger back and forth along the waistband of his underwear and rubbing his back, she leaned in close to sing the next verse.

"There's a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy When you pass out on my lap and there you'll lie It'll nearly be like a picture print by Currier and Ives…"

Maggie suddenly shifted her grip and attacked his sides and belly, wildly spidering her nails all over his sensitive skin. Each tickly tickly nail tip setting off spastic explosions on his tum. She could barely contain her laughs through her song, utterly delighted at how he giggle gasped so desperately. Her fingers slid down to roll thumbs on his hips and glide into the dips making his hardness bounce for her amusement.

"These tickly things are the things We remember all through our lives These tickly things are the things We remember all through our liiiiiiiiives"

As she kept him squirming and laughing loudly with one hand, she retrieved the blush brush with the other and began moved it towards his cheeks again, but then diverted with a smirk and began dusting his nipples. They quickly became as pink as his cheeks as they were doused with the soft powder.

"Your nips are nice and rosy And comfy cozy are we We're snuggled up together like a boy And girl with a feather would be"

Maggie reveled in his reaction, his body writhing as he giggled and arched his hips upward, the hardness between his legs reaching maximum capacity. She grinned and tossed the brush back on the table, picked up a bottle of lotion, squirted a generous helping into one palm and began rubbing her hands together right in front of his face, flashing a devilishly horny grin. He threw his head back and moaned as she slipped one hand under his boxers and immediately seized his stiff member. The lubrication on her soft hands tickled and teased and aroused in an enveloping cocoon, shocking his system through the tickles but slow enough to keep him from immediately losing control. While her other hand alternated between swiftly rubbing a nipple and grabbing his side, she softly sang the last verse as a contrast to his dramatic sounds and bucks.

"Let's take the road before us And sing a chorus or two Come on, it's lovely weather For a goochie-goo together with you."

She pumped methodically, her soft hands gliding up and down squeezing knowingly at the base and working up to his tip to stroke the underside with rapid tickles before going back down. He quivered, alternating moans and laughs through his gag as she continued to graze her nails on his midsection with spidery tickles. Her technique was finely honed and worked his body like an instrument designed to accompany her song.

"Lovely weather For a goochie-goo together with you…"

She repeated once more, her singing now fading into a gentle hum of the melody. Feeling the imminence of his release, she changed her method, starting with a pump at the base of the shaft, then rubbing the foreskin and tip between her thumb and index finger as she reached the top. Her tickles never relented though, wiggling her shiny red nails over his belly, along his waist and hips, and ever-attacking his sides before circling his nipples with taps on the tips.

After just a few of these maneuvers, he cried out, thrusting on her lap. Maggie smiled wide, casually pulling a few tissues from the table. Catching his milky discharge with the tissues, she continued humming, lovingly giving his stiffness a final slow pump. She milked him mercilessly, flashing a knowing smile he knew she meant to make sure she got it all out. He fell limp on her lap as she cleaned up the excess, pulling down his undies and tossing them aside. Maggie untied his gag and guided his head against her bosom. She held him gently against her curves. Her free hand gently massaging his thin form with sensual deliberate tickles up and down his side and back, as her melodious sounds grew softer and softer. He thrashed and squeaked but soon quieted, his breaths on her chest slowing~

At least, until she reached for mr wand and began humming up her rendition of Carol of the Bells~

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megdchristopher · 9 months

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SWEATER WEATHER

My head canon is that Frenchie makes a sweater for each crew member. Stede wears his with pride and Ed is just daring someone to say something. (Izzy doesn’t get one.)

I had this silly idea ages back, and with new Our Flag Means Death on the horizon, I couldn’t resist.

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aronarchy · 1 year

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https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/william-gillis-one-giant-red-flag-folded-into-a-book

So much abuse is about trapping and monopolizing the target’s attention, feeling entitled to claim a chunk of their brain. The experience of being abused is often one of being forced into thinking about the abuser constantly, from trying to predict their acts to trying to follow the latest tangle in their proclamations. Abuse strips away agency by stripping away the capacity for the abused to think for yourself, to think about anything else or think at all. If the abuser controls critical needs then everything is devoted to trying to turn yourself into a complex key that can unlock those needs. If the abuser besieges and terrorizes you randomly, you form your brain into a vast prediction net, trying to preempt as best you can every single avenue by which they might strike. Or you huddle up and turn yourself off, turn your brain off, to try and weather through things like an inert object. All of these are about losing your capacity for agency in a way that extends beyond any physical constraints directly imposed upon you. Abuse takes over your brain.

Sometimes the abuser acts so as to not have to think about you, to terrorize you into smallness and confined predictability, but sometimes the abuser is themselves driven by their own ravenous attention on you and the need to make you dedicate that same level of attention to them. This sort of abuser is never more happy than when their provocations force you into direct immediate raw unthought emotional tangles with them. They yell and yell until you finally yell back, and then they grin in glee because they have you. Neither abuser can stand your escape to any degree, which they read as a direct assault on them.

There are many aspects of abuse, but abusers feel entitled to your attention.

I can’t emphasize this enough. Demanding that an ex listen to you, mobilizing The Community to force that ex to give you a monopoly over their brain is an abuser’s wet dream. It’s how thousands of accountability processes have derailed into an abuser continuously retraumatizing their survivor.

Schulman, it must be emphasized, has no argument for why we should be obligated to give away our attention to anyone who wants it. What she has instead is 1) a fixation on pain and suffering of those denied control over the attention of their targets, and 2) the repeated assertion that having no boundaries is “adult” whereas saying no is “childish.” Mature adults talk things out in person, only immature children—or those so traumatized and broken as to be infantile children—would draw a line around their attention and enforce it.

“In another example from other people’s lives, sometimes angry, supremacist, or traumatized people send emails commanding, ‘Do not contact me.’ I want to state here, for the record, that no one is obligated to obey a unidirectional order that has not been discussed. Negotiation is a human responsibility. Little children order their parents around: ‘Mommy, sit there!’ When adults give orders while hiding behind technology, they are behaving illegitimately. These unilateral orders do not have to be obeyed. They need to be discussed.”

It would be trivial to compose a little passage reversing the associations, casting knowing how to draw boundaries and assert one’s independence and agency as the “mature adult” position whereas being caught under the boot of others’ demands to the point where you can’t own your own associations or attention as the “child” experience. But I want to reject the entire adult supremacist frame she’s appealing to.

If the child often stomps their feet and declares “no”—no, I refuse to give uncle a kiss, no, I refuse to get dressed to be your marionette at an event, no, I refuse to listen to your lecturing—perhaps we should see that as an inspiring site of resistance by those most oppressed before they are ground down. Perhaps we should endeavor to be more like children desperately trying to assert their autonomy and consent as agents who get to choose. Certainly the world “adults” have built and perpetuated by beating each new generation into surrender is a clearly sickening and grotesque one.

Even though I personally have made choices to maintain some level of contact, I vehemently support every abused child who walked away from their parents and never answered their calls ever again. Hell, I support children who killed their abusers. You do not owe everyone a path for reconciliation and negotiation. From abusers to even just wingnuts and inane time burglars, the best option is sometimes to just walk away forever. We have limited time on this planet, why spend it trying to repair every single relationship you have so far happened into?

Schulman somehow cannot even fathom goals other than the maintenance of existing relationships.

“Refusing to speak to someone without terms for repair is a strange, childish act of destruction in which nothing can be won.”

Liberation can be won. There’s a world of possibility beyond the confines of one given relationship. Opportunity cost is a real thing that is worth considering. That nothing is gained in one specific relationship by walking away doesn’t mean that a world of possibilities can’t be gained through the absence and negation of that relationship.

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eirinstiva · 1 month

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Undignified jealousy

Seconf part of "Gift of the Emperor" and my old chap Bunny is suffering on his trip with Raffles because AJ is busy with that woman:

I hated the voyage. It was no fault of anybody connected with the ship; it was no fault of the weather, which was monotonously ideal. Not even in my own heart did the reason reside; conscience and I were divorced at last, and the decree made absolute. With my scruples had fled all fear, and I was ready to revel between bright skies and sparkling sea with the light-hearted detachment of Raffles himself. It was Raffles himself who prevented me, but not Raffles alone. It was Raffles and that Colonial minx on her way home from school.

Bunny, I think you are a bit jealous. "Colonial minx" are harsh words to refer to Miss Werner. I know that she's kind of beautiful, but it's not her fault to catch Raffles' attention. He's an adult, after all.

Of course it was nonsense! Is it conceivable that a man like Raffles, with his knowledge of the world, and his experience of women (a side of his character upon which I have purposely never touched, for it deserves another volume); is it credible, I ask, that such a man could find anything but nonsense to talk by the day together to a giddy young schoolgirl?

Oh, dear~ I know that you are captive of Raffles' charm but that doesn't mean that he can't fall in love with a woman. Is he some Casanova? I think that a book of Raffles' love stories could be a best-seller, just put your rage under control and use it as fuel to your writing.

I confess to some little prejudice against her. I resented her success with Raffles, of whom, in consequence, I saw less and less each day. It is a mean thing to have to confess, but there must have been something not unlike jealousy rankling within me.

...

You're jealous, Bunny.

"Resist! He won't get the chance. He drinks too much beer to sleep light, and nothing is so easy as to chloroform a heavy sleeper; you've even done it yourself on an occasion of which it's perhaps unfair to remind you. Von Heumann will be past sensation almost as soon as I get my hand through his ventilator. I shall crawl in over his body, Bunny, my boy!"

It sounds like a good plan, and at least Raffles has the decency to tell Bunny the plan before starting it. Sadly the Colonial minx is part of it.

At last I knew the meaning of his furious flirtation, and stood wagging my head and shaking my finger, blinded to his frowns by my own enlightenment. "Wily worm!" said I. "Now I see through it all; how dense I've been!" "Sure you're not still?" "No; now I understand what has beaten me all the week. I simply couldn't fathom what you saw in that little girl. I never dreamt it was part of the game."

Wait, I received some satellite image:

Let me do a close-up:

BUNNY MANDERS, YOUR JEALOUSY CAN BE SEEN FROM THE SPACE!!! And you are in denial!

"It doesn't occur to you that I might like to draw stumps, start clean, and live happily ever after—in the bush?" "With that voice? It certainly does not!"

Is this a... flag?

"Do you think you would live happily?" I made bold to ask him.

"God knows!" he answered. And with that he left me, to marvel at his look and tone, and, more than ever, at the insufficiently exciting cause.

Oh no... well. That's all for today, it's time to relax a bit reading some fluff. Good luck on your trip, Bunny! Keep calm and don't forget the chloroform.

#crime and cricket #letters from bunny #a j raffles #bunny manders #gift of the emperor #GIFT #be gay do crimes #THAT COLONIAL MINX #letters in the underground

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margojacksonpotter · 4 months

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Part in BOSAS books that should have been in the movie

-Dr. Gaul used on Avoxes for her mutation experiments, combining humans with gills, feathers, tentacles, and other animal parts. Also, Dr. Gaul spoke in rhymes sometimes which just made her character even creepier.

-When Arachne was killed by her tribute, Brandy, Coriolanus was asked to sing the national anthem at her funeral. The tributes were also paraded on the funeral while Brandy’s lifeless body swung high into a crane. It was meant as a reminder to the tributes of what would happen if they tried to resist. A few weeks later, when two other mentors were killed in the arena explosion, a hologram of himself sang Gem of Panem to their funeral as well.

- The large crowd forming in front of the arena during the Games. People dressing up their dogs as their favorite tributes. People at the zoo making the tributes do tricks for food. It was all so disgusting and just added to the horrors of the Games.

-All of the scenes with Coriolanus in the classroom. They had such deep, profound discussions about the Games, war, humanity. I can’t list all of them but the students made interesting points.

-How Coriolanus got the guitar that Lucy Gray used it in her interview before the Game. He borrowed it from Pluribus Bell, a family friend. Pluribus and his partner used to own a bar pre-war but now make a living selling items on the black market. Pluribus loved Lucy Gray and gave her a standing ovation after her interview performance where she sang. He even wanted her to headline at his bar if he ever reopened one. He kinda reminded me of Cinna.

- There were only a few microphones in the wall of the arena so most of the time spectators were watching the Games in silence. The microphones could only pick up so much sound, so they had to interpret facial expressions or body expressions to understand what the tributes were doing. I understand for the purposes of the movie they couldn’t do that but it would have been interesting to see.

-Lucky Flickerman being absolutely chaotic: being completely oblivious to Highbottom’s snide remarks towards him, doing tricks with his parrot Jubilee, Jubilee flying to the ceiling and refusing to come down because Lucky’s theatrics were too much for him, looking uneasy at Dr. Gaul who wanted to do experiments on Jubilee, giving the weather forecast when the Games were too slow and making snow related jokes at Coriolanus’ expense, getting sprayed with a fire extinguisher on camera because his sprinklers set off the alarm. The list could go on.

- Though that scene of Coriolanus saying “I was just sending water” was very funny in the movie, it did not happen in the book. Coriolanus was about to send water to Lucy Gray to fend off Jessup who was rabid with rabies. However, Lysistrata, Jessup’s mentor, insisted that she send the water because that’s what Jessup would have wanted. She and Jessup had also become very close before the Games. As she sent the water to him, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

-The Games did not end after Lucy Gray sang to the snakes. There were still five tributes left. Heavy overnight rainfall and cold weather caused most of the snakes to die in the arena. Honestly it seemed like the movie just wanted to wipe out the remaining tribute to get the Games over with.

-Reaper!! What a complex character! This is the guy who, before the Games, personally apologized to every tribute for having to kill him. And he is the only tribute who didn’t have a single kill. Instead, he formed a short alliance with Lamina, tore the Capitol flag off the arena wall ( which caused a commotion in Heavensbee Hall) and made a makeshift morgue for the fallen tributes. I think the movie did an injustice by having him die off from the snakes. He and Lucy Gray were the last two standing. Lucy Gray, knowing Reaper was starving and had contracted rabies when Jessup spit in his eye, tired him out to death when she ran off with the Capitol flag he used to cover the other tributes. Then poisoned a puddle using the compact, knowing he’d drink from it, which led to his death. He deserved to have more of an acknowledgement. All the tributes did really.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of lucy gray #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #the hunger games trilogy

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eggbreadboi · 9 months

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I absolutely love your wing au !! (this is the main ac of aston-angel) If you were willing to talk more about it, I'd love to hear more on the actual race concepts, like what do the 'tracks' look like here? racing strategies?? even the mechanical side with the jets and safety equipment 👀

I'm also super fascinated with the concept of raptors being given preferential treatment, I'd love to hear more about the cultural impacts and aspects of that!

Thank you so much.. Im honored to be getting detailed asks like this. It's so motivating to see interest for my insane little brain child. I am always willing to give more detail!

This is going to be a long one haha:

Race courses! These resemble sailing courses in concept, with the most relevant similarity being the attention to wind direction. The track boundaries are marked with strings of flags or balloons, and turns with brightly painted pillars. Some tracks use mobile turn markers in the form of hot air balloons, but this practice has been slowly phased out due to the higher risk to racers in case of a collision (the fire keeping them afloat doesn't play nice with flammable fumes from the turbo gear) Usually the the area below the track is an open field of some sort, however skyline races exist as well. Tracks average at about 46 meters or 150 feet off the ground, though some are as low as 23 meters (75 ft) or as high as 69 meters (222 ft).

Of course, in the name of fidelity to irl F1(and my inability to design new ones), the shapes of the courses are the same. The "pits" so to speak are present as well, in the form of a raised, semi enclosed platform. Each pit lane has a separate, retractable roof segment controlled by the engineers, intended to accommodate different wing sizes. Ground seats, or in the case of skyline races, rented spaces in neighboring buildings, accommodate most spectators, but some tracks, particularly older ones, have spectator boxes built level with the track, in mid-air. These resemble bleachers on tall columns/stilts, with lifts for the elderly, young, disabled, or otherwise unable to fly up to the seats themselves.

Racing strategies are quite similar. Of course there is nothing resembling tire wear, but the jet packs are very small and light, and therefore hold little fuel, so pitstops to refuel are essential. The racers are permitted "feather wax" in adverse weather conditions, a synthetic substance similar to the water-resistant preening oil produced by seabirds. Racers like Sebastian, and especially Kimi have a serious advantage as their natural preening oils are better suited to light rain conditions, but the strength of synthetic agents mean they are used by everyone when it gets very wet. These can be applied before a race, or during a pit stop in aerosolized form. Similar to F1 cars, the jetpacks may be quickly repaired in some cases, though the same cannot be said for feathers. A broken feather will put a racer out of a race immediately, as imping(replacing a broken feather with a prosthetic or donor feather by fixing it to the unbroken portion of the shaft) is a medical procedure that takes time and occasionally anesthetics to perform.

Unlike motorsport, there is not an "ideal" race strategy that works for every racer. This is because the contestants have very different needs that coincide with their wing type. The real challenge for a race engineer is knowing the track, the weather conditions, and the racer they are guiding to such a degree that they can predict the minutiae of their physical state during the race.

In all honestly, I'm no engineer, so the jetpacks' actual functionality is mostly left up to the viewer to interpret. They resemble a jet engine massively scaled down; usually there are two vents in the sides to let out air, and two intakes in the front, though some models have one larger intake. All openings that create suction are designed very carefully to avoid pulling on the wings. The fuel is contained below the engine apparatus, close to the racer's back. The regulations around material for the fuel tank have been tightened, with designs being required to handle and disperse more heat than they did in the past. Additionally, the regulations have changed to mandate a thickness of 5 cm for the flame-retardant padding insulating the fuel tank.

A major change between the 70s and the modern era is the requirement for the foam under-vests donned by pilots to include a stiff neck guard protecting the pilot from whiplash. Additionally, it has become mandatory to include an additional foam/plastic piece of gear intended to immobilize the first joint of the wings when they lock into position after takeoff. This allows a set range of movement which cannot exceed a 25 degree rotation in any direction. In the past this was left to restrictive fireproofs and the weight of the jetpack itself, with inconsistent results. The regulations changed after several racers came close to losing a wing when a turn entered at the wrong angle caused severe dislocation.

Additional safety innovations include an emergency release lever, which allows turbo gear to be removed near instantly in mid-air when it is pulled, and an overhanging debris shield over intake openings intended to protect nearby racers' wings from breakage during close maneuvering.

Safety regulations existing in lower formulae but absent in F1 due to harsh resistance from teams include a restriction on the speed at which pilots may enter turns, and the thrust a turbo engine may deliver on liftoff, severely hampering overall race-pace. These exist to protect the pilots in lower formulae, many of whom have not yet reached full wing maturation( the first adult molt commonly occurs at 18 years of age, though in some cases as early as 16 or as late as 24), and therefore have smaller, softer feathers and joints which have not fully developed.

The controversy around instituting these restrictions in F1 was sparked by Verstappen’s decision to compete with Red Bull at 17, two years before his adult plumage came in. Consequently, an age requirement of 18 for entry into F1 was instituted. Speed limitations were not.

Raptors and their place in the sport:

Historically, many societies are thought to have favored raptors for physically active roles, warriors, athletes the like, though whether this is historical fact or the result of later rewriting is debatable.

In the modern day, this is reflected in an attitude which holds that raptors have an innate advantage in athletics, as well as courtship dances to the degree that these are present in various cultures. Raptors and especially falcons, are considered the pinnacle of athletic/utilitarian beauty(though the actual beauty industry favors colorful songbirds and the like). Many sports companies prefer to have a raptor as the face of their brand.

There is a certain degree of truth to the fact that raptors are, as a whole, stronger fliers than non raptors. However this rule has so many exceptions based on flight conditions, endurance, maneuverability, and even whole other wing types that win out handily in categories like arial gymnastics or endurance racing that it’s easier to not have it be a rule at all.

In addition, raptors are, to put it bluntly, easy to design for due to historical over-representation. Their “stats”, though varying by type, are uniformly good when compared to wing types like seabirds or swifts who may be excellent in some areas (strength and maneuverability, respectively) and weaker in others(liftoff coordination, strength), requiring a more carefully designed and calculated set of gear. Raptors' mid-to-large wings mean that while weight is slightly less of a concern, inconvenient adjustments or accommodations are not necessary.

In the modern day, various teams have drastically different attitudes towards wing type, which is evident in the diversity of wings on the grid. In contrast the 1975 grid was entirely dominated by eagles, falcons, kites, and the occasional swallow or swift.

Mercedes is a pioneer in this regard, debuting the first entirely non-raptor team (Turtledove-winged Nico Rosberg and Violet Backed Starling-winged Lewis Hamilton) to perform on a championship level and continuing on to sign another raptor-free lineup in Lewis and crane-winged Valtteri Bottas. They are well known not to consider wing type in their sign-on policy. Their example is followed by Aston Martin, well known for their work with albatross-winged multi-WDC winner Sebastian Vettel and by Alfa Romeo, who eagerly signed veteran Kimi Raikkonen.

Alpine and Williams have made statements suggesting an openness towards similar lineups, but thus far every driver pair to come out of these teams has featured a raptor, suggesting favoritism still exists in their hiring practices despite a stated desire for change. Haas is similar.

The true old-guard, Ferrari has a publicly acknowledged policy of only hiring raptor racers, in the name of tradition, appearance, and elegance....though their list of well known champions includes common swift Niki Lauda and razorbill auk Kimi Raikkonen, with their high profile racers including albatross Sebastian Vettel.

Both McLaren and Red Bull resemble Ferrari in their insistence on raptors, Mclaren in an attempt to regain their historical standing, and Red Bull for, at least publicly, entirely practical reasons. However both teams are entirely willing to sign non-raptor racers who have proven their ability, notably Daniel Ricciardo.

The Red Bull sister team Alpha Tauri has in recent years migrated to signing almost exclusively non raptors in the name of testing less typical racing gear, reflecting a remarkable shift towards openness in the Red Bull young fliers program, though for now, few of these non-raptor hopefuls have made it to the main team.

#bread answers #f1 wing au #f1 jetpack racing au #au lore #f1 wing au lore #hopefully this answers your questions :D and im always down to share more #formula one au #lewis hamilton #Sebastian vettel #max verstappen #kimi raikkonen #classic f1 mention

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

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Meet Me In the Woods Tonight

This is part of a collaborative project - the writing circle by @azrielshadowssing . Part 1 has been done by @foundress0fnothing and was so wonderfully written. If you haven’t read it already you have to check it out as soon as possible, it was amazing and I really hope I did the storyline justice. A big thank you to @autumndreaming7 for beta-reading this story💛

Part 2:

Eris was sure the spymaster was staring holes into his back when he strutted ahead, over the rusty pine needle carpet beneath him. The weathered trees surrounding them were large, brushed the sky and made the temperature in the forest feel comfortably cool.

“You know Moreno, you can have a little trust in me.”

Eris could perfectly hear the snort that left his colleague — Azriel Moreno, head of the IT department of VelTech.

Biting down on his own lip, Eris stopped himself from grinning. God, did he love to annoy his co-worker. For two reasons actually: one was that Azriel Moreno was too much of a brooding person and Eris really wanted to crack through the surface to see what was lurking behind this stoic expression and the cold demeanor. And secondly, Azriel Moreno was damn hot and definitely the most attractive man he had ever seen and god, did he love to tease him.

“I don’t know you, so I don’t trust you,” Azriel answerd matter-of-factly.

Well, that somehow hurt a little, Eris concluded. His thumbs pressed into the map he held in his hands and he stopped, glimpsing at Azriel over his shoulder. “Bummer,” Eris muttered. “Seems like you really weren’t paying attention during team building.”

Azriel slid his hands into the pockets of his pants when he finally met Eris’ gaze. “And you were paying attention because you care or to pass the silly exercise? Short term memory to show off, huh?”

A cold chuckle left Eris at that. “Saved in my long term memory.” He paused for a moment. “You like computers, you have two half-brothers and you have definitely broken more than two bones.”

His brows laying in furrows, Azriel stepped over the pinecones scattered across the path and he walked up to Eris. “You are speaking in riddles.” “No, I am showing you that I paid attention in order to remember things about my colleagues. Other than you I care about what people said during this icebreaker game.”

Eris could practically see how awareness dawned on his colleague, more than earlier during the exercise. For a moment his eyes widened, his lips —god, those plump and perfect lips— parted and Azriel looked stunned.

“So am I correct?” Eris pushed. He knew he was right, had done enough research on all his co-workers. He was the company’s lawyer, he had to know things.

“You are,” Azriel grumbled. “You are right.”

Eris tried to hold his gaze for a little longer but suddenly Moreno looked past him, up a tree and the corner of his mouth curled up.

A warm tingling sensation filled Eris’s chest at that — that damn smile would be his end. That smile was barely there but Eris assumed that it could already light up this rather dark forest.

It was only when he caught himself that Eris as well looked up to where his partner was looking and—

“Flag!”

“Flag,” Eris repeated, his own astonishment just as acute as Azriel’s.

“Who knew this would be so easy?” Azriel flashed Eris an incredulous look and gave his head a tiny little shake.

The lawyer smiled brightly. “I told you that you should trust me.”

The head of IT brushed his hand through the air and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You did nothing, Eris, you just walked straight ahead and we stopped.”

“Maybe we are just a good team and incredibly talented?”

There was a smirk on Eris’ lips and he loved the sound of ‘we are a team’.

Even Azriel’s mask broke a little at that and the most adorable snicker left the man. Eris’ heart made a tiny happy skip at that noise and he knew he would love to hear this more often.

“You are taller, try to reach up and grab it,” Azriel suggested. The two men looked around them, making sure they were really alone and the flag would not be stolen from them.

Eris watched as Azriel narrowed his eyes at the distance, but they were truly alone.

Idiots, the lawyer thought, the first flag was so easy to catch but apparently all the others walked in the completely wrong direction. Azriel should really have more trust in him, Eris concluded, but had to admit that finding this first flag was pure luck.

“Good, I’ll do it.” He liked it that Azriel had obviously been examining him as well. How else would he know that Eris was just a little taller? That made some male pride appear in him, knowing that the head of IT might also be a little attracted and that—

Fuck, did his cheeks just warm? God, that was not good.

Eris quickly turned his back to Az, nearing the large tree, the flag dangling from one of the branches a little higher up. With narrowed eyes, Eris glanced upwards, looking at the sun covered by branches, tree tops and leaves, and he thought to himself what a lovely day it was.

He took the map in one hand, went onto his tip toes and stretched out to his full length, reaching upwards. His fingers brushed the flag, but it slipped.

“Try again!” Azriel pushed and Eris liked how eager he was. Azriel's sudden determination was attractive and surprising. Where did that come from?

He reached even further upwards, catching the flag between his middle and index finger, and pulled on it until it was free and he proudly held it in his hand.

Lowering himself to the ground and looking over his shoulder, he shamelessly caught the head of IT staring at him. Azriel’s lips where slightly parted, eyes darkened, fixed on Eris’ midriff where the shirt had slipped upwards.

Internally the lawyer thanked himself that he had dragged himself to the gym four days a week and that for the past six months– these abs could definitely be shown off and he loved that Azriel apparently appreciated them.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Eris drawled, drawing Azriel’s attention back to his…mouth. Did Azriel just look at his mouth? Or was he mistaken? Maybe it had been wishful thinking as now Azriel was staring — glowering— straight into his eyes.

“Don’t blabber and rather focus on the map. Where do we have to head next?” “So you do trust me now?” Eris said, smiling brightly. “With the map and leading the way?”

Azriel waved his hand through the air and stalked forward. “Whatever. Just keep going.”

His question why he was so eager and trusted him all of a sudden, Azriel masterfully ignored. And Eris also did not question further, his eyes trained on the map, coordinating the way they would be heading.

He knew exactly where to go next, but he chose to go a longer route. He just wanted to…he actually did not know what he wanted and why he had chosen the longer route. Maybe spend more time with Az?

He did not really care about winning for the first time in his life. There was now a new priority and that somehow scared him. Especially since he had no idea if Azriel even liked men. Yes, he caught him looking but still…

The second flag was once again surprisingly easy to find and Eris really questioned if Helion should have put more effort into it. This was silly? How was it so easy for them to find the flags - the second one had just been dangling in a bush.

But he soon got his answer when they started looking for the third.

The sun moved over their head, signaling them that a lot of time had already passed and so it was time for a little break. They had taken two water bottles along with them and slouched down against trees, taking five minutes to rest a little.

“Are you and your half-brothers close?” Eris questioned out of the blue, hoping he could make some conversation. He himself had a half brother, Lucien. They had not always had the best relationship but now they were close, very close, just like normal brothers. Lucien was over ten years younger than Eris and so they hadn’t really grown up together - that didn’t matter anymore, they shared similar interests now.

Azriel’s head lolled back and he just looked at Eris for a long moment, then unscrewed his bottle and took a sip. “No.”

His answer left no room for further questions. It was so cold, so tight, that Eris’ heart squeezed and he felt sympathy for the broody male.

The lawyer inclined his head slowly and also sipped from his bottle. “Anything you would like to know, Moreno?”

Azriel slowly shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing against the tree.

That landed a little blow to Eris’ heart and he gathered that he might have mistaken Azriel’s former signs. It seemed like the IT male truly had no interest in him.

Eris himself closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, listening to the chirping birds around him.

“Are you married?”

For a moment, Eris’ blood ran cold, surprise over the sudden question and the topic of it causing him to be caught in a stupor. When he blinked his eyes open, Azriel was already looking at him, his face as stoic as usual. But something —something like fear— flickered in the man’s eyes and Eris wondered where that might come from.

“I am not, no,” Eris said and added, “I am not in a relationship.”

It seemed like some kind of happiness filled Azriel, his eyes softened a little and the corners of his mouth tipped up the tiniest bit. But Eris could be mistaken again. The head of IT dipped his chin and then brushed his hands down his thighs. “I think we should carry on. We want to win after all, don’t we?” “We do?” “Haven’t you already pointed out that you noticed how eager I am to win?”His tone was on the edge of sly, almost feisty, his eyes sparkling.

So Azriel was actually paying attention to what Eris said? The lawyer slowly got up, the gleeful smile returning to his face. “I did, but I just wanted to have a confirmation for my observation.”

“Well, you have just received your confirmation. Let’s go!”

And so they kept walking, suddenly so much less distance between them. If Eris only moved his hand a little it would brush Azriel’s and that thought made all rational thoughts vanish from his mind and his heart skip one or the other happy beat. Damn, was he truly falling for Azriel Moreno? Yeah, he definitely was.

What was it about this man? Of course, Eris thought, Azriel was very easy on the eyes. He was an extremely good-looking man, there was no doubt about that. But there was more to him – the way he smiled (the few times he did), the way he observed and assessed things, how attractive he looked when he focused on something. When he focused on something with those stunning hazel eyes. They often reminded him of heated honey which again reminded him of Autumn, his favourite season.

But Eris was not only attracted to Azrie’s looks. There was also more to Azriel’s character, Eris gathered. He somehow knew that Azriel had a soft, warm heart beneath his icy cold demeanor. Eris all of sudden wanted nothing more than to break through this shell and find out what lies beneath it.

“Why did you ask if I was married?” Azriel lifted one shoulder and shrugged. “Just curious.”

“You could have asked anything.” “Maybe I did not want to know everything. Maybe I just wanted to know that,” Azriel said matter-of-factly, his lips pressed in a thin line when he looked at Eris.

And there his heart went skipping another beat and Eris had to hold back from chuckling, still a little snicker escaped him and his skin warmed.

“You only joined the company about two years ago,” Eris pondered and gave Azriel a sideway glance.

“I worked as a freelancer before. It got too much and Rhysand offered me a job.”

That was the longest Azriel had ever spoken in one answer and Eris liked this — liked that the broody man somehow seemed to get more comfortable.

“Makes sense.” “It does.”

Eris smiled to himself, his eyes moving back to the map in his hands. “We should be there in a few steps.”

“And we are not the only ones who are on the right path, I think.” Azriel pointed forward and Eris follows ed the direction of his finger. Still in the distance but getting closer were Rhysand and Feyre, practically running through the woods and this was when also Azriel and Eris — no conversation needed between the two partners— start running. Eris set out for the target, Azriel in tow, following Eris blindly.

They tried to go unseen by Feyre and Rhys, and it seemed to work. Rhys and Feyre must have made a wrong turn somewhere.

Cool air wheezed in and out of both their lungs while the dashed over the pine needles covered ground, through the bushes and trees, shielding their faces with their hands.

They both panted heavily when they came to a stop in front of probably the largest tree and—

“Idiot,” Azriel breathed through gritted teeth, bending over, his hands braced on his thighs, and staring up at the flag that seemed to be around five metres high in the air. Eris followed his gaze, his own hands braced on his hips, his chest heaving with deep inhales. “That is fucking high.”

“It is,” Azriel said and gave his head a little shake. “I gather there is no ladder anywhere nearby?”

“Well, Sherlock, I don't think so either.” And now it was Azriel who smirked, his eyes glowing when they met Eris’. “Are you Watson then?”

Chuckling, Eris gave Azriel the thumbs up. “Works for me. But now we need a plan.”

The lawyer looked around, listening for noises – the crunch of pine needles, the snap of a twig, anything that would signal that someone is close. Feyre and Rhysand were near and it would only be a matter of time for them to arrive. And then he had an idea.

“I am hoisting you up, Moreno,” Eris suggested. “Or you hoist me up?”

“No.” Azriel’s stare was cold.

“Then name a better plan?”

It seemed like Azriel’s brain was working on high speed, he fumbled with his fingers, looked up the tree, down to the base of it, then to the other trees, and finally at Eris. Az was looking him up and down, eyes slowly roaming over his body. Eris let him do so, enjoying it somehow, and then said, “When you are done checking out my fine body, tell me about your plan. Or are we going to stay here until Rhys and Feyre steal the flag right in front of our eyes?”

Azriel only glowerd for a moment.“Fuck it.” Azriel clasped his hands together. “Yeah, let’s go with your plan, but I am hoisting you up. I already said you are—“ “Hot and stunning? No, I don’t think you have mentioned that yet.”

Azriel chuckled lowly. “You really have a silly remark for everything, huh?”

“For you, Moreno, always,” Eris cooed. “Now come here.”

Azriel did as he was told, his feet somehow moving of their own accord. “How am I supposed to lift you up?”

“Curl your arms around my waist and lift me?”

Azriel raised a brow.

“Or crouch down and let me climb onto…I don’t know? Your shoulders? Your back?”

“My shoulders?” “Yes, Moreno, you have strong shoulders and a broad back, I am sure you can carry me.”

And that— Did Azriel Moreno truly blush at this comment? He totally did but shrugged it off with a light chuckle and then moved into a crouching position in front of his colleague.

One could definitely mistake the position they were in for something else. The lawyer found himself rooted to the ground for a hot second, his traitorous brain wandering to a dark place where Eris imagined them being in that sort of position in his office with Azriel–

Fucking hell!, Eris internally cursed himself and his hand formed a fist at his side. He definitely had to get a grip on himself - they after all wanted to win this.

So Eris quickly walked behind Azriel, placed the map and his bottle on the ground and…hesitated.

He was going to touch him, would get closer to him than he possibly ever thought he might. This was odd. How would even he touch him now? Where?

His hands slowly lowered to the crouched male in front of him, paused, then moved again, palms ever so softly touching Azriel’s shoulders when he reached him. He wondered how someone’s shoulders could be so solid and soft at the same time, and he curled his fingers around them, slowly nearing Azriel who smelled so blissfully sweet like cologne, a little woodsy like cedar, but also fresh like peppermint and just a tiny little bit musky, maybe from the sweat? Eris inhaled once and then climbed onto his colleague’s back and that was strange.

Azriel’s body stiffened when Eris moved fully onto him and he braced his feet on the ground, slowly standing up with his colleague on his back.

Cocking his head, he tried to look back at Eris, “You alright?”

“Perfect,” Eris hummed, smiling brightly while practically every fiber in his body was on high alert, his skin tingling where it was in contact with Azriel’s. He suddenly felt the urge to brush his hand through Azriel’s silken strands and that was so…so out of place in that moment, so he fought the urge.

Azriel moved them closer to the tree but it was useless, Eris could not reach it. Azriel tumbled slightly, moving backwards and forwards, trying to steady himself again.

“Change of plan.” Azriel stepped away from the tree and crouched down again so Eris could climb down. “Let’s build a leg-up. I am hoisting you up that way.”

That could work, Eris thought, and Azriel’s plan was quite good. Well, it was quite good until Azriel first came face to face with Eris' groin and then Azriel’s face was pressed against Eris thigh. Azriel’s heels pressed into the ground, using all his strength and power to hold his colleague up, breathing in and out through his mouth. Eris could practically feel Azriel’s strength and god, that was once again incredibly attractive.

Eris could not focus on a single thing but his strength…and his low, guttural sounds when breathing in and out. But he had to reach the flag — Azriel wanted to win this after all, so they had to win. What the hell? the lawyer thought to himself and internally smacked himself in the face. They wanted to win, he was not doing this just for Azriel, was he?

But he reached it, pulled on it and freed the flag. Azriel let him down and both men —typical male behaviour— released a victory shout. Eris lifted his hand and Azriel gave him a high-five, both of them grinning brightly and—

Was Azriel truly grinning? Eris couldn’t really believe his eyes, but he relished in the moment, devoured it, euphoria filling his chest — his whole body.

Azriel looked a little ruffled, his shirt had moved a little, revealing some of the stunning tattoos on his chest, his hair was ruffled, his cheeks a deep red.

“Can you believe we got all four of them?”

“As I said we are the best team and very talented.”

“We really are,” Azriel hummed and clapped his hands. “And now?”

“Now we go back, show that we did it, celebrate our win and then—“ Eris grinned, his face glowing brighter than the sun herself.

“And then?” Azriel chuckled and raised his brow. Amusement was etched into his features.

“Then you are allowed to kiss the winner.” Azriel’s lips parted, surprise spreading over his face. Chuckling lowly, he shook his head. “You are so full of shit, Vanserra.”

“So no kiss?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

azris taglist: @azrielsbabyg@lady-riel@moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56

#azriel x eris #azris #acotarwritingcircle #azris fanfiction #azriel #eris vanserra

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cherrymogai · 5 months

Text

[ID: Two variations of a flag with the same colors. The first is a flag with a thin stripe in the middle split into two colors, dull navy and faded gold, with a diamond in the center. The outside is split into four quadrants, pastel blue, light gold, dark sky blue, and sandy yellow.

The second flag has six stripes, with the center two lines being thinner. The order of the colors is pastel blue, dark sky blue, dull navy, faded gold, light gold, and sandy yellow. END ID.]

Weather Manager

(PT: Weather Manager)

A system role for alters who front to manage external weather conditions. The colors represent the two conditions these alters may front for, cold weather and hot weather. These alters might have increased resistance to weather, or be symptom managers for disabilities triggered by weather.

Tagging @pluralterms

#plural community #plural coining #alter roles #plurality #cherry.terms #mod.jon

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topnotchquark · 5 months

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Ommgg I would love to read motogp body horror! These boys are always injured

Many nebulous thoughts on this and I'm not a writer ya know I just love to dream up scenarios.

Imo one that feels interesting to me is a type of theft of skill. If it was possible to carry out procedures that let you steal a particular aspect of someone's riding style. Say you're a championship contender, you have everything but maybe you're weak when it comes to breaking, or wet weather riding, or you don't have the necessary chops to save a high side. There is money and prestige riding on your success, people need you to win for their own reasons. What if they found an upcoming rider from the feeder series that possessed just that last thing needed to win. A small medical procedure (ofcourse MotoGP doctors need to be a part of this they are the flag bearers of medical malpractice) could help make the switch. Sometimes younger riders agree to it, based on assurances of long term contracts with certain teams, but the procedure can happen without consent too. Doctors stealing the skill of a naturally gifted young rider and passing it on to someone who's a bit desperate for a win. Imagine the horror of waking up from under the knife and realising you cannot ride like you did. Watching all these years dedicated to a dangerous sport because that was the one thing you were undoubtedly good at go down the drain.

And of course the challenge of incorporating a powerful essence of someone else's body and mind. I'd like that the person receiving the gift has to also carry a physical marker of it, like a bodily aberration. The smaller procedures only leave indelible scars, but the more intense ones leave gortesque disfigurations. New appendages and growths and changes to the body. Over time, maybe the body starts resisting the intruder. Or the intruding skill starts fighting against the body or tainting the functioning of the body. Body horror around the eventual decline of the very gift you conducted a horrifying procedure to gain.

This was partly inspired by Suspiria and it's very half baked world building but I'll think up more.

Another thing I was thinking was how the sports forces riders into invasive procedures, and sometimes they elect these procedures because the need to win is so severe. The interplay of willing consent vs being forced into it is also an interesting study.

Also please check out Carnivorous Circuits by @whatwepostintheshadows which is literally one of my favourite AUs ever. Mushroom is an actual genius and I love her mind.

Thank you so much for sending this ask anon, I loved thinking about this. I'm writing this on my birthday (which is also new year's day lol) while shopping with my mum and aunt. Have a nice year ahead xx

#asks #motogp asks #body horror #motogp body horror #motogp

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 7 months

Text

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Don’t Blame My English Blood For This American Heartache

Chapter Six: Take U With Me

AO3 info prologue one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

All my work is 18+.

I try to resist, but the light’s getting low to a glow till you’re touching my lips. I wanna stay when I shouldn’t, wanna go but I wouldn’t, wanna say no but I couldn’t. So meet me in the dark; kiss me in the shadows of every spark.- Marianas Trench, Rhythm of Your Heart

October, 1984

Hogsmeade, Scotland

The Scottish weather wasn’t too cold yet, and most people got by without any sort of coverings whatsoever, but Sera was a Californian, so she needed something to keep her warm.

She quickly discovered that she very much liked Hogsmeade. It didn’t have the warming charms that the castle did, but it was a cute little village with a bunch of magical stores. Most of the other people there were decked out in that fancy wizarding shit they all wore, but the so-called Muggleborns—what a ridiculous concept, blood purity; as if it mattered—were in regular clothes the way she was. She liked her knee-length black dress; it was fairly low cut and had a little V-shaped thing that she kept closed with a tie, and she wore black leggings, an old pair of Converse, and a long knitted purple sweater.

So yeah, she was protected from the fifty degree weather adequately enough to enjoy a deliciously sweet—and slightly alcoholic—drink at a small bar-slash-inn called The Three Broomsticks. She was listening to her Walkman, humming along to Freddie Mercury singing about how girls with big butts—such as herself, which was nice because, like, how many songs actually praised her body type?—apparently made the world go round. She honestly doubted his claims, but he was Freddie Mercury, so who was she to argue?

Anyway, point was, she was enjoying her sweet drink, snacking on the magic candy she’d gotten at a place called Honeydukes, and leafing through one of several magical books—mostly romance novels, if she were honest. She’d never had sex and she was curious, alright?—she’d purchased at the local bookstore. It was peaceful.

Until, that is, someone with an irritatingly long body sat down in the chair across from her. She looked up from her book, yanking her headphones down around her neck with a sigh of annoyance.

“What do you want, Regulus?”

He grinned that sickeningly attractive grin of his. “Nobody else who claims to dislike me calls me by my first name, you know.”

She stared at him, nonplussed. “What am I supposed to call you?”

“My surname is the standard.”

Sera pursed her lips. “Your surname is normal. Your first name is weird. I prefer to point out your weirdness.”

He frowned. “My name isn’t unusual in my family.”

“Neither is inbreeding,” she said flatly. “Again: what do you want?”

“To spend time with you, of course,” he said with a grin.

Sera scowled. “No.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “Did you get my letters?”

“Nope.”

Regulus hummed, drumming his fingers on the wood of the table and looking very much like he didn’t believe her. “Pity. I sent you a birthday present.”

Yes, I know. You sent me a fucking family heirloom, you goddamn weirdo.

“What are you wearing to the Christmas ball?”

She stared at him. “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

He frowned. “You don’t? Why not?”

“I’m Jewish.”

He thought for a few long moments. “Is that a religion?” When she nodded, he hummed, looking at her consideringly. “The Malfoys aren’t religious.”

“My parents converted before I was born,” she explained. “I’m not fluent in Hebrew or anything.”

“I see,” he said slowly, and she wasn’t entirely sure that he did, but whatever. Most people didn’t understand shit about Judaism. After a long moment, he decided, “Well, you don’t need to celebrate Christmas in order to attend the ball.”

She scowled at the thought of the last ball she’d attended. “I don’t particularly want to dance with you again.”

“Why not?” he asked, flagging down a waitress to order a drink of his own.

“Because you’re a dick,” she informed him bluntly.

He snorted. “I do so enjoy your language, you know. Most witches titter and blush during a courtship. You don’t.”

“I don’t know how I’d behave,” she said slowly, “as I have never gotten an offer to be courted from someone I’d actually consider saying yes to.”

“You’re already being courted, darling,” he explained, an amused smile playing at his too-perfect lips.

She sipped her drink. “I don’t understand why you’d want to marry someone who doesn’t even like you.”

He hummed thoughtfully, accepting his drink from the waitress with a smile when it was brought over. “You don’t treat me the way most people of my acquaintance do,” he said slowly, “you’re intelligent and magically gifted. I’m unused to being around witches like you, and I find you fascinating, to be perfectly honest.” After a brief pause, he added, “And you’re exceptionally lovely. As for not liking me, I’m winning you over already.” She glared at him, but before she could say anything, he pointed at her novel and asked, “What are you reading?”

“A book,” she snapped, flushed and prickly with embarrassment at the compliments.

“I can see that,” Regulus drawled. “What kind of book?”

“Fiction.”

“Let me see.” Before she could object, he snatched it from her hands.

“Hey!” she griped.

Ignoring her, he read for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. “I never would’ve thought you the type!”

“It’s interesting!” she snapped. “I’ve never read magical novels before!”

“So you choose the ones with sex, do you?” He was smirking, the dickhead. “If you’re interested in it, my dear, just say the word—“

“Even if I was, it wouldn’t be with you,” she hissed, her face bright red.

He chuckled again. “All in due time.”

Regulus showed up on Hogsmeade weekends a lot after that.

One afternoon, they were having a relatively normal conversation when he suddenly asked, “Have you ever been involved with a man before?”

Sera coughed on her own spit. “Gag me with a spoon, what the fuck—“ she sputtered. “That is none of your business.”

He frowned. “I just want to know how to behave with you, that’s all.”

Glaring viciously at him, she crossed her arms and declared, “No, I haven’t. I’ve never met a boy who wasn’t either ugly, stupid, a wastoid, or a super fun combination of the three.”

He looked amused. “A wastoid, hm?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

Okay, so maybe she liked him a teeny tiny bit. Seriously, though, it was only a little. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. People got meaningless crushes all the time, and it honestly wasn’t even her fault. She really, sincerely could not be blamed for wanting to French him just a little. She’d never done it before, and she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And Regulus… Well, he reportedly knew what he was doing. He’d probably be pretty good at it, right?

So being around him was getting kinda awkward for her on account of her rapidly growing attraction to him. She was really trying not to like him, but he was so fucking dreamy, and she’d started noticing things about him and couldn’t seem to stop.

His hair, for example, hung in super soft-looking curls, falling over eyes that looked like the ocean after a storm. His lips were pink and perfectly shaped, and he had the most pronounced jawline and cheekbones she’d ever seen, even in movies. The point was, Regulus made Tom Cruise look unattractive.

To make matters even worse, he’d taken it upon himself to start cursing around her and calling her by her first name, citing “adequate familiarity”, whatever the hell that meant. The way his mouth looked when he formed the syllables of her name, the way ‘fuck’ rolled off his tongue— it shot sparks down her spine.

He was so fucking sexy, and she really didn’t appreciate him getting all close to her and making her already-made decision to continuously reject him all the more difficult. The horrifying reality was, if he kissed her, she’d probably let him.

November, 1984

Hogwarts

Scotland

“Where are you going?” Yarrow asked one Saturday evening in November after even most of the seventh years had snuck back into the dorms. Sera zipped up her black dress and turned around, examining the way the leather made her ass look in the mirror. She had fishnets that went up to her thighs and were held up by garters, as well as her favorite pair of black combat boots, which Beo was currently rubbing against. She wasn’t thin or muscular the way most people seemed to find attractive, but it was a Queen concert, and dammit, she was gonna feel good about her appearance for a change.

She waved a hand around her, casting a quick warming charm to stop her from getting cold on the walk off the grounds. Taking out a tube of bright red lipstick, she addressed her friend. “I’m going to a concert.”

“How are you even leaving the school?”

“Uh, doy, I’m sneaking out.” Sera rolled her eyes. “I’ve been turning myself invisible since I was, like, fourteen. It’s whatever.” She applied the lipstick, tapped her lower lip once to charm it so it wouldn’t smudge or fade, and decided she was satisfied.

“Isn’t your beau coming to visit tonight?”

Sera turned slowly towards her friend. “What?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yarrow said, gesturing towards the pile of letters on Sera’s desk that she liked to pretend she’d never read. “He told you in the most recent one he was coming up for a visit. Said if you didn’t meet him, he’d come find you or something. Flitwick probably wouldn’t mind, but I’ve honestly no idea how he could convince Dumbledore.” Yarrow shrugged. “Whatever, I suppose.”

“Fuck,” Sera gasped. “Did he say when he was coming?”

“No,” Yarrow said, delicately turning a page in the book they were reading.

“Better see if I can beat him, then,” she decided, and off she went.

Unfortunately, just as she passed the school gate, there was Regulus.

Fuck.

She’d made herself visible again, which, in retrospect, was a bad idea, but making herself completely invisible was actually pretty difficult.

“Sera?” Regulus frowned, looking her up and down. “What’re you wearing?”

“Go away,” she snapped, irritated. “I’m busy.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You’ve come like I asked, so—“

“I didn’t know you’d asked,” she told him impatiently. “I have plans.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Plans that require you to sneak out of the castle at night?”

Sera glared up at him sharply. “Yes.”

He tensed, examining her outfit again. “Those are your Muggle clothes, yes?”

She pursed her lips and didn’t respond.

“Are you…” He gulped. “Are you meeting a Muggle boy?”

She stared at him in disbelief. She was so annoyed by his audacity that she sniffed and said, “In a manner of speaking.” Regulus looked so displeased at this that Sera couldn’t help but groan. “I’m going to a concert, you wastoid.”

“Oh.” He instantly relaxed. “I’ll come with you, then.”

She lurched back, though he wasn’t particularly close to her to begin with. “You most certainly will not.”

He hummed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Where are we off to, then?”

She scowled at him, marching past him and away from the school gates to get outside the wards so she could relocate.

“I don’t have my usual friends,” she snapped. “I last saw these guys a couple years ago, and I can’t go with my friends the way I did back then, and it sucks.”

“You can go with me,” he pointed out.

“You’ve never even heard their music.” She paused. “Which is so fucking weird, by the way. Literally everyone’s heard Queen.”

“Why don’t you show me, then?” he asked. “I might like it.”

He sounded so hopeful that she just didn’t have it in her to turn him down. And, well… she actually enjoyed spending time with him, even though she’d never tell him that.

“Fine,” she eventually decided. “I just do magic to get in anyway. It won’t be hard to get you in, too.”

He fell into step beside her, his eyes wide. “Really? That’s illegal, you know.”

She shrugged. “All the best things are illegal.”

He looked down at her in bewilderment. “Are you quite certain you’ve never been involved with a man before?” he asked.

She glared up at him wordlessly. Once they were outside the wards, she said, “Shut up and hold still.” With that, she grabbed his arm and transported them off to London.

Sera charmed everyone who might otherwise get in their way with basic confusion spells, the same way she and Ta had always done. Her non-magic friends never understood how she and Ta got away with everything they did, but nobody ever questioned it. Not when the two of them could get away with damn near anything.

When Freddie Mercury took the stage, Sera screamed, jumping up and down.

She admittedly wasn’t paying much attention to Regulus, but he’d been looking at her for most of the show. She actually noticed some when he watched her dance and shake her ass to Fat Bottomed Girls (along with everybody else; it wasn’t like she was particularly special), but other than that, she didn’t think about him much.

Until the last song of the encore, halfway through Somebody To Love, when she had her eyes closed and was singing along with Freddie when he said, “Someday, I’m gonna be free.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, she was turned around, a hand was in her hair, and lips were on hers.

Sera’s eyes snapped open in shock, but… but Regulus was kissing her. He was kissing her like he was dying.

She was frozen for a moment, and she really should’ve pushed him away, but there was alcohol buzzing in her veins, so she could do nothing but arch into him, clenching her hands in his shirt and trying her best to kiss him back.

Regulus pulled away after what felt like a delicious eternity of his mouth on hers, cupping her cheek with one hand, the other on the small of her back. His eyes were hooded and fixed on her lips, and Sera could only look up at him, breathing heavily and wishing he’d kiss her again.

They stumbled, giggling, up against the wall of a random building in the city.

“God, Sera,” he groaned into her throat.

She hauled his mouth back to hers wordlessly, winding her arms around his neck. Now that she’d given in, she couldn’t really recall why she’d bothered fighting this to begin with.

“We should— we should talk about this—“ he said between gulps of air.

“God, shut up,” she complained. “Just kiss me.”

“I’m supposed to be a gentleman,” he muttered, mouthing wetly at her throat. “You just make it so fucking difficult in these sexy little outfits. Damn near show me your arse, fuck.” He grabbed her ass then, squeezing it roughly. She took a sharp intake of breath, arching into him, her breasts against his chest. “But we have to talk about this.”

“Ugh,” she grumbled in frustration, shoving him away from her. Her head thunked on the brick wall of the building she was leaning against, and she fixed him with a glare. “What do we have to talk about?”

“Us,” he explained, sounding terribly impatient for reasons that most likely directly related to the large tent in his pants. “I’ve been trying to court you properly for months, and tonight, I— I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You are just…” He exhaled, his eyes roving over her form, pausing briefly on where the zipper of her dress revealed her cleavage. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so I kissed you. Sorry. It wasn’t how I planned to…” He took a deep breath. “Look, Sera, I fancy you. More than I have done anyone so quickly before. I would very much like it if you would seriously give my offer some consideration.”

“Your offer?” she asked, raking a hand through her curls, still dazed by the kiss, the way he’d touched her.

“I’m not proposing,” he said slowly, carefully, “but if this continues, if you allow me to kiss you again, touch you again, I…” He looked down. “If there is no chance of you ever consenting to marry me, tell me now.”

She was silent for a long moment.

She really did have feelings for him, didn’t she? She was falling for the prick.

Oh, fuck it.

“I dunno how all this courtship stuff works,” she admitted quietly, “but I do like you, Regulus. A lot. Normally, that’d mean, like, dating. Here, I guess it means—“

“An engagement,” he said flatly. “It means an engagement, if your aunt agrees as your Head of Household. It’s generally… expedited in the event of genuine interest between prospective spouses.”

“You said you weren’t proposing,” she pointed out shakily.

“I’m not. But if you allow me to, I’ll court you with that goal in mind.”

“I thought you were just getting to know me,” Sera recalled.

He nodded once. “I was. I’m satisfied. I want you.” She blushed to the roots of her hair at that, but he continued, “If you’ll allow it, I would like to court you properly with the intent of marriage.”

“I mean…” She gulped, anxiously twirling a curl around her finger. “That’s kinda what all dating is, if it’s serious.”

“This is serious,” he informed her, his voice stern. “Do you want me?”

She looked at his feet, the fancy shoes that were somehow spotless despite having just attended a fucking concert. “Y— yeah.”

He cupped her cheek, lifting her face up—up, up, up. Fucking hell, he really was a tall bastard, wasn’t he?—to his. “Agreeing to allow me to properly court you is to agree to marry me, assuming all goes well. Do you agree?”

She looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes. It was just like they were dating, right? He’d just be her boyfriend. That wasn’t a big deal, really. After a moment, she breathed, “Yes.”

He kissed her before the word was fully out of her mouth.

Yeah, a Queen concert, we’re ignoring what the set list was and the exact date that Queen was in London, okay, cut a bitch some slack and lemme be self indulgent here

Big thanks to @lilmaymayy for betaing!

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

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itsadmiralactually · 10 months

Text

OF GENERAL DUTIES OF ADMIRALS.

ADMIRAL, (amiral, Fr.) an officer of the first rank and command in the fleet, and who is distinguished by a flag displayed at his main-top-mast-head. Also an officer who superintends the naval forces of a nation, and who is authorized to determine in all maritime causes.

The origin and denomination of this important office, which seems to have been established in most countries that border on the sea, have given rise to a great variety of opinions. Some have borrowed them from the Greek, others from the Arabic, while a third sort, with greater probability, derive both the title and dignity from the Saracens. But since no certain conclusions have been deduced from these elaborate researches, and as it rather appears the province of this work to give the reader an idea of the office and duty of an admiral at sea, than to furnish an historical or chronological detail of the rank and power with which admirals have been invested in different nations, we shall contentedly resign this talk to the ingenious lexicographers, who have so repeatedly entertained us with such critical investigations.

The ADMIRAL,, or commander in chief of a squadron, being frequently invested with a great charge, on which the fate of a nation may depend, ought certainly to be possessed of abilities equal to so important a station, and so extensive a command. His squadron is unavoidably exposed to a variety of perplexing situations in a precarious element. A train of dangerous incidents necessarily arise from those situations. The health, order, and discipline of his people are not less the objects of his consideration, than the condition and qualities of his ships. A sudden change of climate, a rand and infectious air, a scarcity or unwholesomeness of provisions may be as pernicious as the former, as tempestuous weather or dangerous navigation to the latter. A lee-shore, and injudicious engagement with an enemy greatly superior, may be equally fatal to both. He ought to have sufficient experience to anticipate all the probable events that may happen to his squadron during an expedition or cruise, and, by consequence, to provide against them. His skill should be able to counteract the various disasters which his squadron may suffer from different causes. His vigilance and presence of mind are necessary to seize every favourable opportunity that his situation may offer to prosecute his principal design; to extricate himself from any difficulty or distress; to check unfortunate events in the beginning, and retard the progress of any great calamity. He should be endued with resolution and fortitude to animate his officers by force of example, and promote a sense of emulation in those who are under his command, as well to improve any advantage, as to frustrate or defeat the efforts of his ill fortune.

The most essential part of his duty, however, appears to be military conduct. As soon as the squadron under his command shall put to sea, he is to form it into the proper order of battle, called the LINE. In this arrangement his is to make a judicious distribution of strength from the van to the rear, throwing the principal force into the centre, to resist the impression of the enemy's fleet; which might otherwise, at some favourable opportunity, break through his line, and throw the van and rear into confusion.

A competent knowledge of the seas, weather, and reigning winds, of the coast or region where he is stationed, is also requisite, as it will greatly facilitate his plans on the enemy. It will enable him to avoid being improperly embayed, where he might be surprised in a disadvantageous situation; and to judge whether it will be most expedient to attack his adversary, or lie prepared to receive his assault. When his squadron is forced by stress of weather, or otherwise, to take shelter in a road or bay, it will likewise suggest the necessary conduct of keeping a sufficient number of cruisers at sea, to bring him early intelligence, that he may be ready to cut or slip the cables when they shall be too much hurried to weigh their anchors.

As the forming a complete, strong, and uniform line is a very material article in naval war, the admiral ought frequently to arrange the squadron under his command into this order, that the inferior officers may observe to bring their ships, with great dexterity and alertness, into their several stations, and maintain the regularity of the line when they tack, veer, or sail abreast.

When the admiral intends a descent on an enemy's coast, or other attack which may be attended with complicated and unforeseen incidents, his orders should be delivered or drawn up with the greatest accuracy and precision: they should be simple, perspicuous, direct, and comprehensive; they should collect a number of objects into one point of view, and foreseeing the effects of success or defeat, appoint the proper measures to be adopted in either event. History and experience confirm the necessity of this observation, and present us with a variety of disasters that have happened on such occasions, merely by a deficiency in this material article. In the commanding officer, inattention, barrenness of expedient or a circumscribed view of the necessary effects of his enterprize, may be equally pernicious. And general orders ought to be utterly free from pedantry and perplexity, which always betray a false start and confused imagination, besides the probability of producing many fatal consequences.

When an admiral shall conquer in battle, he should endeavour to improve his victory, by pushing the acquired advantages as far as prudence directs; a conduct that merits his attention as much as any in the action! When he shall be defeated, he ought to embrace every opportunity of saving as many of his ships as possible, and endeavour principally to assist those which have been disabled. In short, it is his duty to avail himself of every practicable expedient rather than sink under his misfortune, and suffer himself to become an easy prey to an enemy.

He should be sufficiently acquainted with civil law, to judge with propriety of the proceedings of courts-martial, and to correct the errors, and restrain the abuses which may happen therein by mistake, ignorance, or inattention.

As secret treaties, propositions, or schemes of the enemy, may occasionally be submitted to his inspection, or fall into his possession by capture; and which it might be improper to discover to any person near him, he ought to have a competent knowledge of the modern languages, or at least those of the countries against whom his military operations are directed, to be able to comprehend with facility the full scope and purport of such papers.

He ought to be well versed in geometry, so as to be capable of ordering proper and correct surveys of unknown coasts, roads, or harbours to be made, and to judge of their accuracy, and detect their errors. To ascertain the situation and longitude of different places, he should be also sufficiently skilled in astronomy and the method of taking observations, which indeed is essentially necessary to the profession of a sea-officer, although too much neglected.

By his instructions the admiral is likewise to assist at all councils of war that relate to naval affairs: to visit, as often as convenient, the other ships of his squadron: to enquire particularly into their condition, and observe the men mustered, taking care that no supernumeraries are born on the books. He is directed to acquaint the secretary of the marine with all his proceedings relative to the service; and to attend him, on his return home, with an account of his voyage or expedition, and to deliver a copy of his journal.

Much more might be observed on this occasion. It appears however by the general outline which we have sketched, that the office and duty of an admiral requires greater skill and more comprehensive abilities that is generally supposed necessary to the command of a naval armament. And that he ought to be duly qualified to assist the councils of government, and enter into the enlarged system of protecting his country from an invasion by sea, or of mediating a descent on an enemy's coast; as well as to improve navigation, and open new channels of commerce.

Vice-ADMIRAL, (vice-amiral, Fr.) the officer next in rank and command to the admiral; his flag is displayed at the fore-top-mast-head.

Rear-ADMIRAL, (contre- amiral, lieutenant general des armees navales, Fr.) the officer next in rank and command to the vice-admiral, and who carries his flag at the mizen-top-mast-head.

Source: Naval History and Heritage Command

#the Admiral's Duties #Age of Sail #War at Sea

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