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ninebluehearts · 1 year

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Hi can I request a agent whiskey/ jack Daniel x plus!size reader. So the reader is an agent and is working with everyone that is trying to take down the drug cartel the reader is an agent and is a badass at doing her work so maybe she is in love with jack maybe one day they introduce a new agent to the team she is a girl she is thin blond with pretty blue eyes let’s just say all the guy’s welcome her and so does the reader the reader notices jack flirting with the new agent so when they have to do a small mission to get more information about the drug cartel they have to go under cover at a club and the reader has to flirt with the target the rest they just pair up into 2 teams so they are gonna be in the club make sure nothing goes wrong because their target has back up maybe theres a little fighting when the reader wears a dress she gets insecure because she sees the new girl and her dress and how it fits perfectly on her so maybe the new agent and jack had to play as a fake couple for the mission but what the reader doesn’t know is that jack is in love with the reader so maybe when they are fighting the reader gets stabbed in the leg when they get back she gets checked out jack wouldn’t leave the reader side and the doctor said she should be fine while in the infirmary the reader confesses her love for jack maybe it could end with them dating.(this might be to long uhh you could write it if you want it’s fine will if you don’t)

Sure thing, my love!! I'm so sorry this took so long!!

Warnings: Violence, blood, etc. (no smut)

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"You've gotta be kidding me.." You mumbled, staring at the group of men that were all huddled around the newest agent of Statesmen: Agent Malibu.

Malibu had honey blonde hair that practically glowed in the sunlight; the thick, wavy locks looked softer than a feather.

Which paired well with her deep, ocean blue eyes, the kind that you could swim in for hours, not even knowing you were drowning.

Even better, she had a perfect figure- she was thick where it mattered, like her thighs and hips, but her thin waist and long legs really completed the look.

It all made your stomach turn.

What made everything worse was that Agent Whiskey was in that crowd of men, supposedly 'welcoming her.'

Though you saw the grin he had- it was the same one he had given you when you first began working for Statesmen. Regrettably, you were engaged at the time, so you never did act on the obvious spark between you two.

Even when you broke things off with your ex, you never could find the right time- or gather enough courage- to ask him out. And now you were terrified that it was too late.

"I know! Isn't she perfect?" Your coworker, Agent Vodka, said, taking a long sip from his mug. "I don't know if I wanna fuck her or be her bestfriend."

You rolled your eyes, angerly placing your hands on your hips. "Aren't you gay? And married?"

"Me-ow, somebody's jealous." Vodka mumbled into his mug as he took another sip, quickly heading back towards his office to avoid your salty mood.

You shook your head, huffing out a sigh as you looked back at group of Agents. You managed to make eye contact with Whiskey, feeling the familiar burn in your cheeks when he smiled at you.

You gave him a small smile back, giggling when he tipped his hat at you. He always did stuff like that to make you laugh. No matter where you were or what you were doing, Whiskey always found a way to either make a silly face or flirt with you.

That's what made this all so confusing- the other agents were usually professional while working with you, so what made Whiskey different?

"Agent Amaretto!" Your boss, Agent Champagne, called out, motioning for you to come over to the group.

You hated suddenly having all of those eyes on you; especially hers.

You set your mug next to the coffee maker behind you, before awkwardly walking over to him, trying not to look at Malibu. "Yes sir?"

He motioned for the crowd of agents to get back to work, though Whiskey and Malibu stayed besides him. "Well, I assume you've met Agent Malibu?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wonderful! Well, the two of you will be accompanying Agent Whiskey on tonight's mission. Everything is already set up; Whiskey and Malibu, you'll be portraying Mr. and Mrs. Williams, a wealthy married couple from Spain. Amaretto, you'll be Mrs. Culpeper, a Russian widow. Everyone got it?" Champ asked, glancing between the three of you.

"Don't Whiskey and I usually play the married couple?" You tried to keep the attitude out of your tone, though you didn't think you were very successful considering the look that crossed Champ's face.

"Yes, but don't these two look better together? Look," Champ slung his arm around your shoulder, making you look at the 'couple.'

Your teeth grinded together, your nails digging into the palms of your hands as the green-eyed monster began to slip out of his facade.

"Ain't they just perfect together?" He asked, obviously proud of himself.

"You really think so?" Malibu asked, hugging Whiskey's arm as she looked up at him through her eyelashes; Whiskey winked at her in return, a sly smirk tugging on his lips.

"Well, I certainly have a lot to do to get ready then!" You pulled away from Champ before he could even notice that you were shaking with rage, your lips locked in a tight smile. "But do send me the files for tonight's mission."

And without another word, you quickly walked away from the group, holding your breath to keep the hot, salty tears at bay.

You spent the better part of your afternoon practicing a Russian accent and going over Mrs. Veronica Culpeper's profile, preparing for tonight's mission.

You reminded yourself to practice your breathing exercises, deciding to be an adult about the situation. You didn't have the right to be so possessive over Whiskey; you had your chance, and you blew it.

That's on you.

As you slipped on your short, silk black dress, you couldn't help but feel a slight sense of confidence. You didn't get to dress up often, so seeing yourself with a full face of make-up, your hair held back in your favorite clip, and wearing a dress that hugged your curves perfectly? How could you not feel absolutely gorgeous.

You took separate cars and left at different times than Whiskey and Malibu, not wanting to cause any suspicion.

Veronica had never met the Williams before, so at least it wasn't like you had to look at them together all night.

You slipped in your earpiece as you pulled up to the club, checking to make sure you were connected. "Whiskey, do you copy?"

"Yeah." He responded a moment later, whispering with that deep, gruff Southern accent that made you shiver.

"I copy too!" You heard Malibu say, her voice echoing as though she were in an empty room, like a bathroom.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself before exiting the car, greeting the valet with a thick, Russian accent as you dropped your keys into the palm of his hand.

As you entered the building, you couldn't help but glance around the room, looking for a familiar face.

"Hello there, I don't think we've met. Who are you?" A man asked from behind you, slight suspicion in his tone.

You turned, only to be met with the man of the night; Lucifer White, the leader of the biggest cartel ring in South America. The man you were all here to kill.

"I am Veronica Culpeper. I believe you knew my husband?"

"Ahh, yes! James! Oh, I do apologize for your loss. I'm sure you understand though, no?''

You blinked, trying to remember how Veronica's husband died. "Business is business."

Lucifer barked out a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "A woman who understands how the business world works! I must have a drink with you!" He tried to pull you towards the bar, but you resisted.

Out of nowhere, five guards suddenly looked your way, not liking the disappointment look on their boss's face.

"I don't know.. Maybe I should walk around first? I just got here." You felt beads of sweat beginning to dampen your forehead, the panic burning in the pit of your belly.

"Are you kidding? That is the perfect time to get a drink! Come come!" He reached over and grabbed your hand, actually pulling you towards the bar now.

"Tell me, what is your choice of drink?" He shouted to you over the music, motioning for the bartender.

"I'll take your favorite." You said, throwing up your hands. "I feel adventurous tonight!" Your Russian accent was just as thick as his Spanish one.

Lucifer laughed, giving you a simple nod before speaking to the bartender in Spanish.

"So, what brings you here tonight? I figured you would be more than furious with me at the moment, no?"

And that's when it hit you; Lucifer killed Veronica's husband when an important deal went bad. James was supposedly working with the police, though there wasn't a lot of evidence to support that theory.

Even so, James was the first he killed when he discovered the undercover cops that were supposed to be buying his product.

Not even a minute later, the bartender gently set your drinks on the counter, giving you a nervous look as he prepared other customers. drinks.

"No. As I said. Business is business. My husband was weak." You said as you picked up your drink, raising it in the air. "To good business?"

Lucifer grinned, slamming his glass against yours. "To good business!" He began to chug his drink, watching you out of the corner of his eye to make sure you were drinking yours.

You raised the glass to your lips, preparing to take a sip, when suddenly it was ripped out of your hands. You looked up, watching as Whiskey tossed the glass back behind the bar, nearly missing the bartender's head.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Lucifer roared, standing to get in Whiskey's face. All of the guards in the surrounding area perked up, tightening their grips on their guns as they kept a very close eye on the situation.

"It was my mistake, really. I apologize. I thought she was someone else." Whiskey said, holding his hands in the air. You almost couldn't recognize him without his Southern accent.

You glanced around, catching a glimpse of Malibu, who was standing nearby to watch the situation unfold.

She wore a ruby red dress that hugged her waist perfectly, flaring out into a whirl of ruffles and glitter on the bottom. And even in a moment as tense as this, that familiar burn of insecurity began to creep into your mind.

"Who are you?" Lucifer demanded, gripping Whiskey's collar.

"Right! I'm David Miller, sir."

"Oh really? That's funny, because the David Miller I invited is currently in New Mexico. You see where I'm a little confused, no?"

"Jesus Chirst." Whiskey muttered, not even trying to hide his Southern accent anymore. He punched Lucifer in his jaw, sending both men to the ground.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Everything began to playout in slow motion- what seemed like dozens of men ran up from the first floor at the sight of a fight, trying to take on both Malibu and Whiskey.

You reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle full of vodka. Storming over to one of the bigger guards who had his back turned, you tapped the back of his knee with your foot, smashing the bottle over his head once he dropped to his knees.

Holding onto the top of the shattered glass bottle, you stabbed an oncoming guard in the stomach with the broken glass, twisting the handle so the glass dug in deeper.

You felt someone grab you from behind, pressing a gun against the side of your head. "And to think I actually trusted you! I was going to make you mine." Lucifer snarled, the metallic smell of blood and alcohol wafting from his mouth.

"Awe, what a shame." You said, before slamming your head back into his face, causing him to stumble back as blood poured from the bridge of his nose.

"You bitch!" He cried out, holding his hand over his nose.

You turned, kicking your foot into his stomach so hard that he flew back into another guard, both of them falling to the ground.

Feeling something break on your shoe, you sucked in a breath, propping your foot up on a nearby barstool to see if you broke the heel.

In doing so, a guard took that as an opportunity, proceeding to jab his knife into the side of your thigh while you weren't paying attention.

You ripped your leg off of the chair, clenching your teeth together in agony as you ripped the knife from your thigh. "You fucker!" You screamed, hurling yourself at the man as though you were some kind of predator.

You all fought like hell for the next ten minutes, the war ending with a single gunshot to Lucifer's forehead.

You stood there panting, holding the gun in a vice-like grip. The familiar feeling of guilt swirled around in your stomach, making you lightheaded. You'd think that after eleven years of killing people, you'd be used to it by now.

Well, you'd be very wrong.

Whiskey and Malibu were by your side a moment later, Whiskey letting out a long whistle when he saw what you had done. "Bit of a hiccup, but I'd say that was a hell of a mission, huh?"

Malibu gave him a are you serious right now? look, gesturing to her torn, blood covered dress.

"Ah well, ya win some, ya loose some." Whiskey patted her on the back, suddenly going quiet when he saw the blood that rushed down the side of your leg, now pooling at your feet. "Please tell me that's someone else's."

You furrowed your brows together, glancing down to see the mess you unintentionally created. "Oh! Huh, I honestly forgot about that.."

Whiskey hurried to your side, looking up at you for permission when he grabbed the edge of your dress. Once you gave him the okay, he took one look at your stab wound and decided that you needed to go to the hospital.

"What? No, Jack, I'm fine! I'll just have Ginger look at it when we get back."

"Ginger is currently at home sleeping. Ya know who isn't? The doctors at the ER down the road. Now go get in the truck."

"I can drive myself-"

"Give Stacy your keys. She'll bring it back to the office for ya."

So now they were on first name basis?

The thought made you cringe, a sour look beginning to spread across your face. "I gave my keys to the valet."

"Got that?" Whiskey asked Malibu, nodding when she agreed. "Now, let's get you taken care of." He gently grabbed your arm, guiding you outside towards the parking lot.

"Let me get this straight," The doctor said, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You just fell on a knife?"

"Yup." You and Whiskey said in union, glancing at one another.

"And how exactly did you fall on a knife?"

You simply shrugged, tossing your hands up.

The doctor eyed you suspiciously, staring at Whiskey as though he did it. "Right.. Well, thankfully it's not very deep. You're going to need stiches and maybe some antibiotics, but you'll be fine. I'll be back in a moment to stitch you up, okay?"

"Thank you, doctor." Whiskey said, giving him a curt nod.

Once the doctor left, you let out a long sigh, beginning to pick at your nails. The only thing you could seem to think about was how Whiskey said Malibu's real name, no hesitation, no warning- he used it as though he'd known her for years.

Tears began to swell in your eyes, making you dig your nails into the palm of your hand to counteract them.

"Is the pain gettin' worse?" Whiskey asked, staring at your clenched fists.

Shit.

"I'm fine." You mumbled rather rudely, you'll admit.

Whiskey raised his brows, swaying his hip to the side. "Well what did I do?"

You rolled your eyes as you huffed out a sigh. "What are you talking about?"

"That! That right there. What's with the attitude?"

"I don't have an attitude, Jack."

"Bullshit. Are you still salty you ain't get to be my wife this time around?"

The lump in your throat began to swell, making it hard to swallow. "I was never salty in the first place. For fucks sake, can't you just wait in the waiting room? I'm a big girl, I can get a few stitches by myself."

Whiskey stared at you in awe. "Oh my god, you are!"

You turned your head so he couldn't see the heat that began to burn through your cheeks. "I'm not!"

"Listen Sugar, I'll make it clear to Champ that you're my number one girl from here on out, alright? I'm not sure how Stacy's gonna feel 'bout-"

"God, do you ever shut up?!" You cried out, finally looking at him with your tear-stained cheeks and wobbling lip. You couldn't hold back your jealousy any longer, hearing her name on his tongue for a second time making your body burn with pure rage.

Whiskey's smile quickly faded. He continued to stare at you as though he solved the worlds hardest puzzle. "Holy shit, you're jealous."

Your eyes went wide, your body suddenly dropping into fight or flight mode. "I don't need this." You jumped to your feet, ripping the curtain back before storming away from him.

"The hell you do!" Whiskey was hot on your tracks, grabbing your wrist once you were in arm's length.

Other patients that didn't have their curtains drawn began to stare at the scene; doctors looked at you both with suspicion.

"People are looking. Will you please just get back in there?"

"Are you going to shut up?"

Whiskey acted as though he locked his lips and threw away the key.

"Fine." You pulled your arm out of his grasp, walking back to the corner yourself.

Whiskey pulled the curtains back once you were both inside the makeshift room, stayed quiet like he promised. Though by the looks of it, his head was racing with thoughts.

You tried to sit on the edge of the bed, but the skin around your wound felt tight- as though your skin would rip if you moved too much. You sucked in a sharp breath, obviously struggling.

"Let me help-"

"Aren't you supposed to be staying quiet?"

Whiskey rolled his eyes. "Don't be a child. Seriously, let me-"

"I'm fine-"

Whiskey sighed, gripping your waist and lifting you onto the bed.

You sat there with a scowl, rubbing your sides. You hated being picked up. "Don't you ever do that again."

Whiskey stared at you for a while, his mouth agape. Not a moment later, he began to laugh- the kind of laugh that had him doubled over, holding his stomach.

"What?" You crossed your arms over your chest, wanting to know what was so funny.

"Ya know you're cute when you're mad?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you.

You scoffed, turning your head away from him once again.

"it's true! You may be stubborn, but god damnit, you make up for it by bein' so adorable."

You turned to face him, your brows still furrowed together. "Why are you being so mean to me, Jack?"

"How am I being mean to you, sugar?" Whiskey cooed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"By acting so nice to me all of the time! None of the other agent's treat me like this. They're usually professional- wanting to get a mission done as soon as possible. But you? You do stuff like this; taking me to the hospital yourself, buying me dinner, flirting with me.. Why?"

Whiskey shook his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "You really wanna know?"

"I wouldn't've asked if I didn't."

"True." Whiskey mumbled. He placed his hand on your cheek, guiding your face to his as he gently pressed your lips together.

You sat there frozen for the better part of the kiss, shocked that it was finally happening. Years of tension- of longing, hoping that he would someday feel the same finally poured out into one, single kiss.

And once you finally did kiss him back, your lips pressed against his with urgency, as though you were starving for his touch alone.

"Okay!" The doctor said, yanking back the curtain right as the two of you pulled away. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but are you ready to get started?"

"Not at all! Come on in."

"Great." The doctor and a nurse came in to set everything up for your stitches, not even realizing that they walked in on the best moment of your life.

You laid your head on Whiskey's shoulder, holding the edge of your dress back so the nurse could disinfect the area. "Can I spend the night at your place?" You asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"Sure thing, sugar." Whiskey said with a laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, you were gonna be alright.

Hello! Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

Taglist: @dino-fart

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x plus size reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels x plus size reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels #jack daniels x female reader #kingsmen #kingsmen golden circle #kingsmen golden circle fanficton #statesmen #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #thanks for the ask!!

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canisalbus · 20 days

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You mentioned before that the people who would have access to Machete's bedchamber would likely already know about Vasco. How did that come up in your mind? Did they get caught in the act or was the subject broached with enough trust? How did those people handle it? Sorry if this is a bit vague but I thought about it today and I'm very interested. :)

I think it just has to be the case, I can't imagine how they could manage to hide the fact Vasco is bunking with him from everyone, for years and years. Machete doesn't live alone, he has staff and servants who do his housekeeping and run his errands. Even if Vasco didn't stay there for any extended periods of time and snuck out the back door to avoid attention, I'm assuming at least the people who do his laundry and change his sheets would eventually detect that some sort of funny business had happened. But the number of people who are in on it is still very very small and tightly controlled. His assistant Vittorio definitely knows and helps to manage this situation, so does his personal doctor, and on top of that maybe a handful of most trusted high-ranking emplyees, which he has vetted extremely carefully and pays handsomely for their discreetness and prudence.

#or something along those lines surely there has to be a way for this to work people have had secret affairs since the beginning of time #if you hire someone #or more likely promote someone you know who has worked for you for years and has proven to be trustworthy and unlikely to betray you #and there's a very high risk that that person will find out your secrets it's better to bring them to their attention yourself #in a controlled setting ahead of time #instead of waiting to see if/when you're caught and not knowing how they will react #right?#and his private quarters are indeed private you don't go snooping in there without a good reason and an official permission #answered #anonymous #Vaschete lore #Vasco hanging around there often probably isn't an immediate red flag it's a big house and people can have friends and guests #plus at the time it was generally more common and accepted for two men to be close friends and openly attached to each other platonically #it's sunday morning and I'm awake trying to piece together the practical logistics of #maintaining an undercover long term relationship between two 16th century statesmen

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vimbry · 3 months

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#save me conan performance of montana etc etc #god the vocal power behind this one is wonderful #like yeah this is a gifset bc linnell is pretty but seriously click through to the source it's great. the very wistful ''I can finally go''#also every time I listen to it I think about I can't remember the dream #tmbg #(actually side project w/ the statesmen. but for organising purposes)#gifs

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athletic-collection · 5 months

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Lane Scorpil

#wrestling #william penn statesmen #lane scorpil

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sneetsnootyoit · 3 months

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Hate to Love You

Chapter 1

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI) Canon-typical violence, rough sex, sort of enemies to lovers, some humiliation, face-slapping, Jack Daniels is a switch, smut obviously, oral sex, face sitting, hair pulling, dirty talk, you two get snowed in, reader has chronic pain and uses marijuana byproducts, multiple orgasms, degradation, praise kink, begging, P in V sex, NO USE ON Y/N

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I have been working on this fic for so long and if nobody likes it I might actually cry

Tag list: @str84pedro @ariundercovers @ezras--moon

1 2 3 4

When you joined the Statesmen, your goal was to live up to your mother’s legacy. She was known as ‘Agent Bourbon,’ and she was one of the best they had. When you were growing up, she taught you everything you’d need to know to be an agent under the guise of ‘self defense, because the world was a dangerous place. When she started teaching you how to use weapons, your suspicions began, and because she had taught you so well, it didn’t take you very long to discover the true nature of the distillery she worked for.

When you confronted her, instead of being angry with you for spying on her, she was incredibly proud, because it told her that you knew how to utilize the skills she taught you. She was completely transparent with you, but had you swear that you would keep the secret, and in return, she would teach you to be an agent. As soon as you were old enough, she convinced Champ to bring you in as a junior agent. You worked as a surveillance agent and they called you ‘Tonic.’ You hated it, because it meant you wouldn’t be working in the field. Your mother promised you that you would get the chance to be a field agent when you got older, and she was right, but unfortunately, she wasn’t there when you finally became one.

When you became a field agent, your name went from being ‘Tonic’ to ‘Bourbon.’ You were working from the Kentucky office while your mother was in the field on the day she died. For the longest time, you blamed yourself, claiming that you were the cause of her death. It took almost three years to be convinced that it was something completely out of your control. When it happened, almost everyone came to offer their condolences, although most seemed to be simple formalities, there were a few that seemed genuine.

A year after your mother’s death, you asked Champ to transfer you. Home office had too many memories, and you needed a fresh start. You packed up the house and sold it, buying a place in New York with the money from the house and the money you made at Statesmen. Champ sent agents to help you move, and they helped you get your new place set up. It was a decent-sized condo with a wonderful view of the city.

That was the start of your new life, and you were ready to work hard to become just as amazing as your mother. At first, Agent Whiskey refused to let you go on field missions, but when Champ chewed him out, he had to start sending you out. It didn’t take long for him to realize that your mother trained you well, and you were a force to be reckoned with. It started off fine, but over the years, you began to grow weary of him. He was the most annoying thing in the world to you. The two of you would be in the middle of a mission, and he’d be flirting with you through your comms. At first, it was charming and it made you feel giddy inside, but when you realized that it wasn’t just you he was constantly flirting with, you grew tired. Aside from the flirting, he was a damn good agent. He’d flip between telling you how pretty your eyes were and how well he’d treat you if you gave him a chance and slicing people in half with his electric lasso, back to back with you while you shattered someone’s skull with your meteor hammer.

It continued like that for years, and got to the point when annoyance became hatred. You despised working with him, and you often told people you would rather chew off your own foot than choose to be on a mission with Whiskey. And yet Champ kept sending you on missions with him. You had to remain professional and tolerate him while you were working together, but as soon as the mission was over, you kept your distance, and when he bothered you, you regularly told him to eat shit. You weren’t sure when you fell for him, but when you realized you had, you decided to mask it with an extra dose of ‘I hate you,’ and you made sure he was well aware of just how much you hated him. The more you expressed your hate, the more determined his flirting became, and it was a vicious cycle of hate and flirting between the two of you.

That was how you ended up in what you considered to be in both the best and worst predicament you’d ever been in.

You and Agent Whiskey were out on a mission up in the mountains. You were infiltrating a facility that had sensitive information they’d stolen from the Statesmen. Your job was to eliminate the threat and get the files returned to Champ’s office, erasing the rest. It was going just fine at first. You’d cleared your path to the main control room and you were in the process of getting all the files downloaded and erased while Whiskey was taking out the remaining targets (although you told him to wait until you were finished so you could go together) when Ginger Ale alerted you that he was in trouble. She showed you the feed from his glasses and you audibly groaned.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Whiskey?!” You exclaimed, slamming your fist onto the console.

“It’s not my fault these fuckers ambushed me, sugar,” he replied, his usual arrogance very present in his tone. He was trying very hard not to sound bothered by the situation he'd gotten himself in.

“See, to me, it looks like you don’t need any help-”

“Because I don’t! I told Ginger to call you and tell you that you looked good in that snowsuit.”

You groaned again and shook your head. “One, shut the fuck up, you fucking pig. Two, your feed absolutely tells me otherwise!” You yelled, looking at the computer to see how close you were to being done with transferring and wiping the files. They were almost done, and you sighed. “Can you manage to stay alive for maybe five more minutes?”

You didn’t get an answer, and you were concerned for only a moment because a couple minutes after you asked that question, the door behind you burst open, and there was Whiskey with a trail of gunfire behind him.

“You fuck!” You screamed, ducking down to avoid getting shot while you pulled your gun from your bag. You pressed yourself against the wall while you loaded the magazine into the weapon, before peeking around the doorframe, taking aim and shooting different targets. You watched them fall one-by-one while Whiskey used his lasso on those you weren’t taking out (he’d apparently run out of ammo). Ginger wasn’t joking when she said he was in trouble, and Whiskey wasn’t joking when he said he was ambushed. When the last person you could see was cut in half, you lowered your weapon and breathed out, scanning the hallway for movement while listening for footsteps. Whiskey opened his mouth to speak and you punched him in the face, glaring at him with a ‘shut the fuck up’ look.

You didn’t hear any movement, so you quietly made your way back to the computer. You watched the 99% become 100%, then you took the hard drive and stuck it in one of your pockets. Even though the computer had been completely wiped, you were told not to leave any risk for recovery, so you used the weight of your meteor hammer to smash open the main panel and you began to place the explosive charges Ginger had given to you inside the console.

While you were angrily working, Whiskey was still standing in the same spot he was in when you punched him, flabbergasted (and a little turned on). You’d never actually hit him before. You always threatened, but never actually did it. What he was going to tell you was that on his way back to you, he’d trailed his own charges throughout the building and they were on a timer. When he saw you placing yours, it reminded him that he had something important to tell you, but first he gathered what little equipment you brought and he grabbed your arm once you’d finished. “We have to get out of here! The place is gonna blow any second!” He whispered to you, making your face go white.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?!”

“You punched me before I could!”

“Yeah, because I was listening for footsteps! You could’ve told me when you saw me- fucking nevermind,” you huffed, running through the hallways with your weapons at the ready, Agent Whiskey in tow.

The two of you barely made it out before the whole place exploded behind you, taking your escape vehicle with it, and you ended up getting knocked down into the snow. As soon as you were able to get your bearings, you noticed the clouds in the sky. “Fucking hell…great! Just fucking great! Ginger, find me a cabin or a building as close as fucking possible. Based on the way the sky is looking, we’re in for a fucking blizzard and I’ll be damned if I die in the snow.”

Whiskey stared at you, astonished and enamored, not really listening to what Ginger had to say as he followed you. He wasn’t paying attention to anything other than you. He was admiring your beauty and skill, trying his best not to get an erection when the memory of you punching him in the face crossed his mind. Fuck, that was hot, he thought, trying to even out his labored breaths.

You were following Ginger’s directions to an abandoned cabin that belonged to a dead man, walking as fast as you could through the snow so you could find shelter before the blizzard started. Luckily for the two of you, when you arrived, it was evident that the man had recently died, because the cabin still had furniture and firewood. You made Whiskey bring the firewood inside while you continued to talk to Ginger about when you’d be able to be extracted. She told you that by the time they got an extraction team out there, the blizzard would have most likely begun by then, so you and Whiskey had to wait out the blizzard and stay in the cabin until it was safe for the extraction team to come get you. While you talked to Ginger, Whiskey worked on getting a fire started, that way there would at least have some heat in the cabin. You told Ginger you were going to try and get some rest before you took your glasses off and tucked them away somewhere safe, and Whiskey did the same.

“You know, this would be a great time for-”

“Don’t you ever shut up?!” You snapped, glaring at him.

He looked surprised for just a second before his signature smirk appeared on his face and he chuckled. “You’ll have to make me, darlin’. I’m not-”

“Shut the fuck up! For fuck’s sake! You could’ve gotten both of us killed! What were you thinking, bringing those guys back to me? Your job was to-”

“Take a breath, sugar. It’s okay, we’ve got plenty of time to-”

“Stop!” You exclaimed, looking at him with a fury that he’d never seen before burning in your eyes. “Just fucking stop! Shit! It’s not okay! What the fuck is wrong with you? When I started working for Statesmen with my Mom, I thought you were some cool, cute, older guy that worked with her, and I was going to be able to work alongside you and be just as amazing as she was! And then I start actually working with you and all you do is fucking flirt!”

He was taken aback by your outburst, and you were fully expecting him to apologize, or at least stop acting like an idiot, but you were very wrong. “You thought I was cool? And cute?”

“What the f- That’s what you take away from that?! For fuck’s sake! This is why I fucking hate you!”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“Wh- really? You really don’t know why?! You don’t take anything seriously when we work together, and you’re always fucking flirting! You walk around with this arrogant ‘I can do anything’ look, and you act all suave, and you look at me with that smug fucking smile and your stupid eyes looking at me like I’m everything you’ve ever fucking dreamed of. You act serious every so often and then you’re out making sexual innuendos at me and at Ginger and you’re just a stupid fucking whore! Or at least that’s what you fucking act like.”

By the end of your rant, you were panting and trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest from the rush of adrenaline you’d just received. Whiskey slowly approached you and stood in front of you with that exact smug grin on his face that you were complaining about. “Did that make you feel better, darlin’?”

That was what did it for you. You growled at him as you grabbed him by the lapels of his snowsuit and you slammed him against the wall, knocking off his hat and making the decorations on the wall shake. When his back hit the wall, all of the air was knocked out of his lungs and it pushed out an involuntary moan. While you had him pinned to the wall, you gave him an incredulous look.

“Did you just fucking moan?” You asked, a bewildered laugh passing through your lips. “What, you like this shit? You like being thrown around?”

Your words were making Whiskey feel hot, even though the cabin was freezing cold, and he could feel himself growing hard under his snowsuit, praying you wouldn’t notice, but you did. “Wh- are you hard right now? Holy shit, you are!” You exclaimed, reaching down to roughly squeeze his thick cock through the suit. Whiskey let out a choked moan and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. You had to pretend you weren't impressed by what you had in your hand. "You really are a whore. A pathetic little slut.”

Whiskey’s breaths were coming out ragged and it was taking everything for him not to whimper as you squeezed his dick. Both fortunately and unfortunately, his resolve faltered and a small sound escaped him, making you raise your eyebrows. “Oh, fuck it,” you said brusquely, fisting a hand in his hair and crashing your lips into his. Whiskey let out a surprised gasp when the two of you connected, turning into a moan when your other hand was replaced by your thigh pressing against his crotch. With your other hand free, you wrapped it around his throat, but you didn’t squeeze. You parted for only a moment to breathe, then you recaptured his lips, biting at his split lip (split from when you punched him). You pressed yourself harder against him and he moaned again, allowing you to push your tongue into his mouth. He immediately surrendered to you and you could taste his blood while you explored the wet cavern. His hands slowly moved up to grasp your hips and you pulled away from him, giving his hair a sharp tug. Now that there was enough space to see each others’ faces, you could see the desperate need and complete adoration in his eyes, and he could see the anger on your face, and the desire in yours.

"Do you want this?" You asked him, and he nodded fervently. He opened his mouth to say something else, but you didn’t give him time to speak as you began dragging him to where you assumed the bedroom was, but when you opened the door, you found that it was actually the bathroom. You let out an annoyed groan and opened the next door, revealing the quaint bedroom, and you pushed him in, towards the bed. He started trying to remove your clothes and you slapped him, then grabbed him by his face, squeezing his cheeks. “You get what I give you, understand? You’re not the one in control here, you fucking slut.”

Whiskey let out what sounded like a squeak and nodded as best he could while he was in your grasp. You released him so you could begin undressing him, quickly and with precision. Even in your lustful state, you were still able to remove his clothing without fumbling over every zipper, buckle, and button. When you had him down to just his boxers, you shoved him towards the bed and nodded towards it. “Get on the bed.”

He nodded again and sat in the middle of the bed, waiting patiently for your next instruction while he watched you. You pushed him to lay back while you began taking off your own clothes, but only a little at a time. First, your boots and your snowsuit, then your pants and socks. You stood there in your shirt and underwear and looked him over with a scrutinous gaze. You could see just how hard he was with the tent in his boxers and the little wet spot on the fabric that covered his tip. You hummed and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and hovering over him. He was flushed and already panting, hands gripping the blankets on the bed with the effort he was putting forth to not touch you. He’d already made that mistake once, and even though he liked when you smacked him around, he didn’t want to risk you deciding to stop.

You slowly began to inch your way up the bed, crawling forward until you were just above his chest. You had him move his arms so you could situate yourself above his face, and you stayed there, teasing him and once again getting confirmation. “You fucking want this?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, looking into your eyes.

“Then fucking beg for it.”

His eyes widened and his cock twitched, the very thought of having to beg you to let him touch you making him want you even more. You were both extremely aware of the fact that if he truly wanted to, he could flip you over and take control. But he didn’t. He was letting you do this, and there was a part of you deep inside that felt warm at the thought that Agent Whiskey trusted you enough to give you control like that.

“Please,” he begged, his voice wavering and needy. "Bourbon, please let me taste you. Sit on my face and use me to make you feel good. Shit, I need to know what you taste like…what you sound like when I shove my tongue in your pussy. I’ll give- fuck, I’ll do anything. I’ll be so good for you, I swear. Just, please…”

Fuck, he’s hot when he begs…

You hummed and looked like you were considering your options before you looked back down at him. “If you can get my underwear off without making me get up, I’ll let you taste me,” you challenged, a smirk on your face as you watched the wheels turn in his head. When you saw the little lightbulb go off, you were curious what he would do, and you yelped as he grabbed the fabric and literally tore it off you. He practically shredded the garment, and once he managed to snap the elastic, he tossed it to the floor and looked up at you, waiting. You couldn’t mask your surprise, so you let him see it before giving him a smirk and began to lower yourself down. His eyes were drawn to your core and his cock twitched at the sight of it. You stopped when you were just barely hovering over his mouth and he looked up to ask why you stopped when you spoke. “Make me cum and I’ll let you fuck me,” you told him, waiting for him to nod and accept yet another challenge.

Based on his arrogant attitude, you figured that he was all talk, or that he’d at least not be that great at giving head, but you were very wrong. When he opened his mouth for you and you lowered yourself down, he seemed like he was in home territory. He pressed his tongue into you and moaned deeply, making you gasp as you felt his mustache rubbing against your clit. He could tell how wet you’d started to get and he had to stop himself from smirking against you. He did so by dragging his tongue through your folds and circling around your clit, pulling it into his mouth to pay it some extra attention. You groaned from above him and braced a hand on the wall while the other reached down to tug on his hair, making him moan again. You ground yourself down against his mouth and he moved back down to lick long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on Earth.

You moaned when he pressed his tongue inside you again and nosed at your clit, making you keen above him. You held onto his hair tightly and squeezed his head with your legs, not caring whether he could breathe or not. Whiskey was enjoying every second and he felt like he could cum just from this, without touching himself at all. He had to fight it as he continued to work you towards your edge. He used his tongue to fuck you and you felt his teeth scrape over your most sensitive parts. It was the most amazing you’d ever experienced and you could feel yourself getting closer. You started grinding on his face again, holding him by his hair so you could chase your finale. You were a mess above him, panting and moaning while your other hand stayed on the wall, and Whiskey could feel it when you came, the way you twitched above him and your moans became more guttural. He continued to eat you, because he felt as if he couldn’t get enough, and you had to pull him away from you while you caught your breath.

When your breathing had evened out, you slowly scooted back down his torso, pulling off your shirt in the process, and everything underneath it. Whiskey moaned at the sight of you, and he raised his hands up, but they only hovered over your thighs, and he gave you a pleading look. “Please, let me touch you.”

You placed your hands on his wrists and guided them onto your waist before you leaned down to kiss him. This one was less rough and more hungry, and you could taste yourself on his lips. Whiskey began to roam your body with his hands, dragging his rough fingertips over the smooth skin of your back and shoulders, running his fingers through your hair and caressing you gently. You wanted to melt into his touch, but you were still pissed about him fucking up the mission. You allowed him to explore for a moment more before you sat back up and unmounted him, kneeling next to him. "Get up. Show me that dick isn't just there for decoration," you ordered, eyes trailing down to his painfully hard erection. "I hope you're as good at fucking as you are at eating pussy."

When given the permission, Whiskey got up and made room for you to lay down on the bed. You spread your legs for him while you got comfortable and you watched him remove his boxers and toss them to the floor. "You don't have a-"

"It's fine. Quit procrastinating and prove to me that you're not all talk, Agent Whiskey."

"Yes ma’am," he replied, pumping his cock a few times before he rubbed his head through your folds. You jumped a little at the feeling, and you opened your mouth in a silent moan when he started to push in. He was big, and the stretch was painful, but it hurt so good. He took it slow and held your thighs while he kept pushing, watching your reactions while he filled you up. He fed it to you, inch by inch, and his eyes darted between your face and your core as it swallowed his cock. When he reached the hilt, he shuddered and moaned, squeezing your thighs. "Fuck, that's so good…so fuckin' tight."

He was giving you a moment to adjust to his size while his hands began exploring your torso again, carefully palming your breasts. He brushed his thumbs over your nipples and they hardened under his touch. You clenched your walls around him when he dragged his tongue over one of your nipples and he bucked into you, fingers toying with the other. You arched into him and huffed. "You gonna just sit there or are you gonna fuck me?"

He took that as an invitation and he began to move slowly while trailing kisses up to your jaw, rolling his hips with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back your moans when you felt the way he was stretching you open, arms on either side of your head to keep him stable. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he murmured, nipping and kissing whatever skin he could reach.

His thrusts started to pick up speed and you gasped when you felt him hit a spot inside that made you see stars. You let your noises flow freely while you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him a new angle to fuck you in. He started hitting that spot more frequently and you arched your back, a high-pitched sound emanating from your mouth. You started to roll your hips in time with his thrusts when they started to increase in pace. "Oh shit, fuck yeah…Oh fuck, yes just like that," you moaned, pulling Whiskey down so you could suck a mark onto his neck, not caring about the fact that it would definitely be visible. He groaned at the pain of your teeth digging into him and his speed began to increase.

Even though you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got you in bed, he was making you feel so good that you didn’t even care. You moaned against his neck as he pounded into you and your fingers found their way back into his hair. You pulled on it and at the same time, he grabbed your legs and pushed your knees up so he could hook your legs over his shoulders. You practically mewled as his cock started to hit that spot that made you see stars over and over, pounding deeply into you. You were pulling his hair so hard that you were almost pulling it out, and Whiskey loved it. He continued his pace, getting rougher with every thrust until the bed was thudding loudly against the wall.

You had moved your head to the other side of his neck and you were panting and moaning in his ear while you listened to him babble in yours. "Oh fuck…Bourbon, you feel so fucking good…wanna fuck you like this all the time…fuck pull my hair harder…please…oh fuck, just like that…you're so fucking perfect, I fucking love this pussy."

While you listened, you could feel a second orgasm building inside you and you were desperately trying to get there, doing everything you could to get him to fuck you harder. "Fucking hell... oh fuck, right there…oh my g- oh fuck, yes, right there, good boy, yes! Fuck…harder, fuck me harder," you said to him, fingers gripping him tightly.

Being called a 'good boy' awoke something in Whiskey that he hadn't been aware of before, and he fucking loved it. He did exactly what you asked, keeping the same pace but thrusting harder, drilling into you at a pace that left you almost screaming.

"Fuckfuckfuck, yes! Fuck, that's so fucking good! Oh fuck, you're such a good boy…shit, Jack, I'm gonna fucking cum!"

That was the first time you ever called him by his name instead of 'Agent Whiskey,' and he loved the sound of his name coming from your mouth. He loved the way you praised him and he was so close.

He let his forehead drop to your shoulder and he panted heavily, almost whining against you and he moaned out your name. Not 'Bourbon'. Your name. After he said it once, he started repeating it over and over like a prayer, moans turning to whimpers as he released inside you, and you groaned when you felt him begin to spill inside you. Then you realized he was about to stop and you squeezed him with your legs. "Don't fucking stop, don't you fucking stop!" You demanded, chasing your orgasm that was sitting right on the edge.

Whiskey moaned out your name again, in the most pathetic way, and you came hard, your walls clamping down around him while you bit into his shoulder, stifling the loud, guttural moan that ripped through you. Whiskey's thrusts slowed to a stop and you both stayed there for a second before he carefully released your legs, helping you to drop them back at his sides. You were sweaty and the cold air of the cabin suddenly hit both of you, making you shiver.

You slowly sat up and clenched as you let Whiskey’s softening cock slip out of you, trying desperately to avoid leaking any cum out while you made your way to the bathroom. It was always a good idea to pee after sex so you didn't get a UTI.

After you used the restroom and you were sure all of the cum leaked out, you went to go wash your hands and try to sleep. You hated sleeping in day clothes, and you'd rather sleep naked than wear the clothes you had to bed. When you exited the bathroom, you started to feel that dull, all too familiar ache in your bones that would soon be vibrating and pulsing throughout most of your body. Hopefully sleep will help, you thought to yourself as you saw Whiskey sitting on the side of the bed, starting to put his clothes back on.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed so I can go sleep on the couch."

You paused for a second, hating what you were about to say, but excited at the thought. "The fuck you are. Pull the sheets back and get in that damn bed," you said harshly, pulling the curtains over the windows to block the extra light, since there wasn't a light switch to turn off lights.

Whiskey gave you a confused look and you gave him an expectant one while you climbed into the bed. When he joined you, you grabbed his hip and pulled him close, pressing your front against his back. You pulled the blankets up around you and you held him in your arms, breathing against the back of his neck. He shivered and was about to say something when you interrupted, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back. "Don't say a fucking word."

You could feel his attempt at a nod and you released his head, wrapping your arms around him again as you murmured "go the fuck to sleep."

—-----------------------

A few hours into the night, you're awoken from a dead sleep by the creaking of the cabin, the sound of the wind outside, and the sharp pains shooting through your nerves. Whiskey was still fast asleep, but the fire was almost out. You could feel it in the lack of warmth. Reluctantly, you left the comfort of the bed to go investigate the strange creaking sounds, put more wood on the fire, and look through your bag to see if you packed emergency anything. Digging through the bag, you managed to find a bottle of your THC oil that you made, but you were almost out. You sighed and unscrewed the dropper and put a few drops under your tongue, letting them soak in while you put the bottle away. You also got out your glasses to see if Ginger left any messages, and there were a couple, but they made your stomach drop.

20:07 - It looks like the blizzard is going to be a heavy one. It may be a few hours or even a few days before we can get you.

21:43 - I think you might end up getting snowed in. I'm so sorry.

23:58 - We're going to have to dig you out when the weather dies down. Don't kill Agent Whiskey, please.

You groaned as you read the messages on the display of the glasses and you took them off, putting them back. After you made sure the fire was going again, you went to go check one of the windows, but you couldn’t see anything because of how bad the snow was. You couldn’t tell if you were snowed in or not, but regardless, you despised the idea of being stuck in a cabin with Whiskey. It wasn’t just because it was Whiskey, either. It was because just like him, you were almost head over heels in fucking love with him, except you hated it. You hated the idea of someone making you so vulnerable, so you masked it with hatred because you'd be damned if you let another loved one die. Since you'd already crossed the line you'd drawn by sleeping with him, then sharing a bed with him afterwards, you were afraid you'd let your feelings slip out. You had to come up with a plan, but at the same time, you were cold and wanted to go back to bed.

It was decided that while you were laying in bed, you would come up with a plan, so you got back under the blankets and got comfortable, facing away from Whiskey. Unfortunately for you, at that moment, he turned over in his sleep and unconsciously pulled you to him, holding you close in his arms. You hated that you loved it, and you had to fight the urge to turn and punch him. You eventually let yourself relax under his touch and you started to drift off while you were trying to plan how you'd avoid accidentally revealing your feelings. The plan was to continue pretending you hate him, same as before, and definitely not sleep with him again.

#jaspre writes #agent whiskey #you're a statesmen agent btw #jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal #kingsmen golden circle #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels

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athleticperfection1 · 9 months

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William Penn Basketball

#William Penn University #William Penn Statesmen #college basketball #basketball girls #athlete #female athletes #college athlete #college girl #bikini #athletes in bikinis

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berserker-showdown · 1 year

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ON the Right, Standing taller than the trees, Hero of the american pioneer fantasy, should have class advantage versus all the fantasy trees. you know her you love her: Paul Bunyan!

ON the Left stands the white berserker of mooncell, the being that lays claim to the domain of Archetype:Earth. The last True Ancestor herself Arcueid Brunestud

#berserker contest #fate go #fate grand order #fate series #fate extra #all the statesmen #paul bunyan #arcueid brunestud #mooncell arcueid #im sorry i couldnt find a decent pic of Arco's original Arcueid from extra.#the tumblr post editor kept cutting off her head when i tried to use the image from the tm wiki

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apricops · 1 year

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[BEGIN STREAM: 18-FEB-2069]

Folks, President Sunny Roosevelt here! It’s President’s Day, and to celebrate, I’m gonna do a reading from the Deck of Statesmen for all my loyal voters and subscribers! I’m still learning, I’ve done some practice readings and stuff, but this is my first time doing a big reading for a crowd, so be nice.

[Sunny begins shuffling a deck of cards. Stream comments: “ohhh this is gonna be good;” “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO;” “I want Sunny to shuffle me”]

We’re gonna do a five-card reading today. If you’ve been living under a rock and dunno what that means, you’ve got the Upper Seat on top, three Chamber cards in the middle, and the Lower Seat at the bottom.

[Sunny places five (5) cards face-down in a + (plus) shape]

So first is the Upper Seat, the one on top, and that one sets the tone for the rest of the reading.

[Sunny flips the top card to reveal a portrait of Martin van Buren (Two of Stewards). Stream comments: “Deece;” “TOPDECKING GAS BOYS;” “lol who”]

Ooh, the Two of Stewards in the Upper Seat. I’m getting… so, he’s a transitional figure, and creating something new isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes you become part of something, or create part of something, and you get swept up in it, or it gets carried away. This card is technically a lesser symbol, but it’s very… nuanced, it’s actually one of my favorite cards. Moving on, we have the Lower Seat, it’s like a balancing counterpoint to the Upper Seat, the soft power versus the hard power.

[Zachary Taylor (Five of Generals) is revealed in the Lower Seat. Stream comments: “FUCKING WHO LOL;” “he always looks like he’s holding in a fart;” “SWORDBOY CONFIRMED”]

The Five of Generals in the Lower Seat. Ooh, that’s interesting, very ‘other side of the coin’ to the Two of Stewards. Sort of falling into something, being the one left holding the bag and not knowing what to do with it. So it sounds like, a lot of tension between the structure versus the people in the structure. But obviously you know I’m on your side. I love my boys. ❤️

[Stream comments: ”WE LOVE YOU TOO;” “MOMMYYYYY;” “god all the lower Generals are exactly the same”]

Now let’s take a look at the Chamber. Starting from the left…

[The first Chamber card is Franklin Delano Roosevelt (High Steward). Stream comments: “WE’RE SAVED;” “NO RELATION LOL;” “MY MAN;” “NO RELATION LOL;” “THE BIG DICK MOTHERFUCKER HIMSELF;” “NO RELATION LOL”]

The High Steward! Help is on the way, folks, haha. No, but seriously, everyone says ‘no card is all good or all bad’ and that’s true. The High Steward is one of those figures that holds the moment in his hand and guides it. He’s strong and benevolent, but also kind of greedy. He’s a linchpin, and linchpins can be dangerous, y’know? You don’t want all your eggs in one basket.

Especially in the Chamber. The Seats are more concrete and the Chamber is more abstract, where the Chamber is coming up with the big ideas and trying to solve everything and the Seats keep asking “okay, but how are we gonna do that?” So a High card in the Chamber is very… it implies some power-sharing, responsibilities being split. Still, it’s always good to see him! Next up…

[The middle card is flipped over, revealing John F Kennedy (Martyr of Discoursers). Stream comments: “BOOM HEADSHOT;” “JACKIE PHAT ASS;” “Reading’s looking kinda grim boys, High Steward might not be enough to save us”]

The Martyr of Discoursers. The drama! Haha. But yeah, the Martyr of Discoursers basically means drama. And in the Chamber, that could mean a lot things - it could mean big revelations or high tension, but it could also just mean distractions. It’s kind of a reminder to keep your priorities straight and not get distracted by dead ends, or not get lured in by something that’s flashy but without substance. Alright, last card…

[The final card is flipped, revealing Grover Cleveland (Three of Paragons). Stream comments: “FUCKING WHO LOL;” “always sucks when the last Statesman is cringe lol;” “why tf is this nerd a Paragon”]

Hey, the Three of Paragons isn’t cringe. None of them are – okay, very few of them are cringe, haha. And he’s a Paragon because, like I was saying, none of them are all good or all bad. Paragons are about sticking to your beliefs and principles. Sometimes that’s really important, but sometimes it means being stubborn or refusing to learn. And the Three of Paragons is - y’know how I was just talking about drama and linchpins and all that? He’s a balancing force against that. He’s very grounded.

So this is interesting. Looking at the reading as a whole, it seems like the Chamber is very diverse - you’ve got principles and drama and ambition all right next to each other, a lot of these big personalities jostling against each other, and they’re sandwiched between the Seats, who are these balancing and tempering forces trying to corral all these thoughts and ideas and build some structure.

Yeah, that’s what I’m getting. To sum it up, the Chamber, our ideas and thoughts, they want to go big and loud and dramatic, and they’re being tempered by the Seats, who are kind of quiet and diligent. We’ve got all four classes on the board with a slight Steward majority, which says to me that.. it’s always hard to say when you’ve got a 2-1-1-1 split, because there’s technically a majority, but it’s a small majority. The Seats don’t have a figurehead grabbing everyone else and leading them forward, so right now isn’t the time for any big decisions. It’s saying nobody has all the pieces yet. As tempting as it is to charge ahead and be independent, you should really take a moment to think things through and talk with people.

[Stream comments: “AI gonna take over AGAIN at this rate lol;” “we pulled High Steward so I’m happy;” “Sunny you’re so centrist lmao”]

So, there you go! I hope you enjoyed watching my reading, I had fun doing it. Don’t forget to vote, comment, and subscribe, and check out the store! We’ve got a big President’s Day sale on everything, including a new, that’s right, a new dakimakura design, so make sure you take a look! Mmkay, bye-bye~!

[END STREAM]

#manorpunk 2069 ad #deck of statesmen #President Sunny Roosevelt #spec fic

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