#the power the stockings give me is unreal

[fan-goddess]

Yes sir…

Thank you @succnfuccubus for inspiring me to write this and convincing me to actually do this

Summary: After another rejection, Billy’s feeling a little down in the dumps. But after meeting with your friend that morning and looking at a unique source material, you get a very unique idea on how to hopefully cheer him up.

Authors Note: Gave the friend a name as it was just easier. I loved the idea, but I don’t like this for some reason

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @anjelicawrites d

Warnings: Smut books, p in v sex, m oral, praise kink, power imbalance role play, role play, angst, comforting, sad boy Billy Washington, the economy, begging, cuddling (if I miss any let me know)

Billy had never been a particularly avid reader. The most he’d ever voluntarily read probably being the required reading for secondary school English. You on the other hand, even before you’d stumbled across the smut section on the internet, had always been a common bookworm.

When your friend Lya first began to lend you books from her so called private collection though, now that’s when you became a woman possessed. Soon, most of what you were reading involved some sort of dark romance filtered in. Whether that was mafia, pirate, or just a simple brother’s best friend romance. You read it all with an expressionless face.

Yet when you’d begun to date Billy, you must confess to the amusement of Lya, who you’d been borrowing books from for all these years, that you hadn’t been borrowing and reading as many of those sort of books as you used too. Since now, you had a real life romance novel in front of your very eyes to carry out. It wasn’t exactly the dream romance kids pictured after watching a Disney movie, but what sort of relationships were these days?

The last few days, you and Billy had been unable to have sex due to a sudden difference in work times. Well, your work times and Billy’s interviews. Still, whilst you were used to this happening at some random times, your pussy had taken a sudden hit with the recent dry streak. Now, you were beginning to crave one of those novels of yours in your hands again. Desperate for a new sort of fiction that’d get brain stimulated and your cunt working.

So you called the best smut dealer you knew.

“Hey bestie!” You grinned, picking at your nail while your other hand was busy holding the phone. “I need a favour…” She’d laughed when you’d asked her for a new recommendation, yet to your relief, you and her had managed to agree to a meet up the next day to, exchange the goods.

The morning you were supposed to leave, you remember kissing Billy goodbye as your adorable half asleep boyfriend was still laying in bed all cosy and pretty. “Where are you going?” He’d grumbled, so cute with a small tired pout on his face that it almost made you want to strip back down to nothing and pounce on him there and then. The lack of sex it seemed was really getting to you right now.

“Visiting one of my friends for a morning drink. Nothing much baby. Remember though you’ve got that interview at 3, so don’t forget!” You smiled, giving him another deep kiss before you go that left Billy’s cheeks flushed from bashfulness. He’s so effortlessly fucking sexy it was utterly unreal…

When you got to the cafe you’d planned to meet Lya at, she eagerly waved at you from a discreet corner of the room. She may be honest as hell about what she reads, but she sure as hell knows how to act like a fucking dealer about it.

“Hello darling!” You smile, moving so you could give her a quick hug before sitting opposite her. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright thanks babes! Stocking up on my little novel collection, which reminds me!” She gives you a mischievous smile, and from her bag produced a book with quite a different cover than what you thought it’d be. As she places in front of you what looks to be a copy of great expectations.

“Think you’ve mixed up the books Lya!” You laugh, giggling in amusement when you see her look at you with such disappointment.

“Course I haven’t idiot!” She sighs, moving to grab the book and remove the book cover, before showing you the back of it. Where much to your surprise, you find the blurb for a very different book. Called ‘Unbuttoning the CEO’. “I read it last week and thought it’d be perfect for you!”

You laugh at the title and place the secret cover back on, before placing it in your bag. You don’t bring the book up again the rest of the catch up convo, but at the end when the two of you have eaten your cakes, drunk your coffees and were saying your goodbyes, you made sure to let Lya know what you thought of the book when you read it.

When you get back home, you head to the bedroom first to see if Billy’s back or not. The bed you can see is unmade and ruffled, yet when you feel it you can tell it’s cold to the touch, telling you Billy left a while a go. You head to the living room and sit on the sofa with a small sigh, praying Billy didn’t decide to head to the pub before a job interview.

You’re still for a couple minutes trying to think of what to do to occupy your time while you wait for Billy, and your eyes can’t help but be drawn to your bag, where the book practically taunts you from inside it. Before you even know it, you’re curled up on the sofa with the book in your hand and your lip between your teeth.

Words blur as you read sentence after sentence, but your eyes certainly eagerly tune in when you get to the actual sex part, which wasn’t even very far in to be honest.

The ceo takes the assistant on his desk, and you can’t help but clench your legs together when you read about how later on the assistant helps the CEO to ‘destress’. You take a small break to make yourself a quick drink, and can’t help but find your mind drifting to the idea of you and Billy in those scenes, playing those characters. You can’t help but forget about even making any sort of drink as you imagine exactly how you could help Billy destress from the recent unfair influx of job rejections.

You eagerly get back to reading though, and by the time Billy comes back home around 5, stinking slightly of cheap lager, you’ve already finished the book twice and reread your favourite scenes about three times over.

“Hey baby!” You smile, making note on how Billy nuzzles his body into yours as much as he can as soon as he gets close enough. Your pretty little teddy bear… “How’d it go?”

“Said I weren’t what they were looking for…” He murmurs into the length of your neck, as you kiss the top of his head softly. “Another fucking failure to add to the list…”

“Don’t say that!” You firmly say, placing both your hands on the side of his face to force his eyes to meet yours. You hate the way he looks so broken in that moment. So beaten by the world that all you want to do in that moment is wrap your arms around him and keep him safe from everything and everyone. The assholes who hurt him hurt him good and deep, and if you could, you’d beat them to death yourself. Maybe even with your porn book that’d be a right sight you must admit… “You are fucking amazing! You’re my favourite person in the whole world and I will not have you bring yourself down! Do you understand me Billy Washington?”

He gulps, and for a second you swear you can see tears build up in his eyes before they’re quickly blinked away.

“I-I underhand darling. Thank you, for being there for me. For everything.” He says, before bringing you in for a hug. Practically crushing you with how hard his arms lock around your waist and his head stays tucked in the skin of your neck.

The two of you stay there for what feels like hours. Holding each other while the time goes by. The only reason the two of you even break away from each other is because your phone rings so loudly all of a sudden and shocks the two of you into remembering the situation at hand. You quickly move to switch your phone on silent, and yet your eyes somehow manage to drift to the book peeking out from behind a sofa cushion, and an idea makes it way through your mind.

“Hey Billy…” You begin, smirking when you see Billy’s usual shy persona breaking through his shell once more when he sees that smile of yours. “I wanna try something tonight…”

“What is it?” He asks, raising a brow and stepping back slightly when he sees the grin on your face.

“Just something I read recently. Wanna see how you’ll like it…” You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders and dragging him to the edge of the sofa, before pushing him slightly so he falls backwards with a small gasp. His eyes open wide as they stare at you with such awe and admiration that you can’t help but find yourself blushing slightly.

You slowly lower yourself between Billy’s legs, which seem to open as wide as they can automatically, and with innocent fluttering eyes, lay your head on the side on his leg.

“Can I please suck your cock sir?” You beg, a pout on your lips to mimic pure desperation as Billy practically seems to have a heart attack above you. He appears breathless as you spring this sudden fantasy upon him, and yet by the way you can see and feel his trousers move and strain with his quickly swelling cock, you can tell with certainty that he definitely seems to be enjoying this.

“Yes…” He eventually murmurs with a heavy breath. “You can suck my cock….”

“Thank you sir, I promise I won’t let you down!” You smile, moving your hands to undo his belt and shimmy down his trousers and his underwear. When Billy is left sitting naked before you, as he’d claimed to feel silly if he was sitting in just his shirt, you can’t even stop yourself from admiring your boyfriends erect cock that stands proudly before your face.

“Such a pretty cock sir…” You murmur, before opening your mouth and taking it in your mouth as far as you can before your nose hits the small soft patch of hair lying at the base of Billy’s cock.

You can hear him keen and whine above you, and you’re very sad you can’t see the way his eyes no doubt roll to the back of his head. You slowly move your head back and forth, keeping a steady pace that leaves Billy practically shaking and whining above you.

“Please….” You hear him beg. A noise you love more than anything, and yet at this moment it’s not what you want. You want him to feel in control for once. To know how much you worship him and adore him. To know that he has the ability to make you become so needy and desperate for him that you’ll do anything to please him. That is, with the right words of course.

“Please darling!” He continues, his whimpering so delightful to your ears that you almost throw your plan out the window so you could give him as many earth shattering orgasms as he deserves. But patience is a virtue, so you continue to suck at Billy’s cock in a leisurely pace. Drawing all sorts of noises from him that leaves your own lower half aching for a release.

“Take control of me Billy…” You eventually say, admittedly growing tired of the lack of communication between the both of you. “Take hold of me and do whatever you want to me sir…”

It seems your words finally made it into his pretty little head. Since as soon as you try and go back to putting your mouth on him after saying those words to him, you feel a strong hand wrap itself between the strands of your hair, atopping you from getting anymore closer to his cock than what you already are. It makes your pussy admittedly wetter as you’re now effectively eye level with Billy’s weeping member, and yet am unable to touch it at all. Forced to stare at it while it weeps a single drop his precum and watch while it trails down his erection. It’s absolute fucking torture.

“Please sir!” You find yourself begging, an actual pout on your lips as desperation claws up your whole body. “I wanna make you feel good sir! Wanna warm your cock in my mouth and feel your cum trickling down my throat!”

You can feel the grip his hands have on your hair tighten, and before you know it, Billy’s cock is hitting the back of your throat and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as your used like a pathetic fuck toy. You let your body go limp as you allow Billy to use you however he decides, yet he doesn’t seem to exactly have that part figured out yet, as he focuses on moaning and groaning about you like a porn star while he uses you to his current hearts content.

For a while, you almost find yourself unable to breathe. Gasping for air whenever the opportunity appeared. Yet still, you persist in your willingness, eager to see the usually so submissive man in front of you break.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He groans, moaning as he further tightens his grip on you and forces you to work harder and faster on his cock. You moan wantonly and work your tongue harder as you feel his tip become drenched in a delicious mixture of both your spit and his precum, and feel his entire length throb under the weight of your efforts. It’s actually quite flattering really, seeing how fast he’s about to cum from your suggestions.

“Fuuuuuuck please swallow baby please please please!” He whines, that inner submissive of his still lingering as he holds your head down firmly on his cock while you feel his cum shoot down to the back of your throat, and practically choke you with how much you feel quickly filling your mouth. You cough slightly as you try and obey Billy by swallowing what you can, yet you can’t help but have a few drops of his essence flow down your cheek as you struggle swallowing the first few drops.

“Here you go baby…” Billy murmurs, using his fingers to pick up the stray dribbles and put them in front of your lips. Admittedly you feel quite bashful as you avoid his eyes while sucking the remaining taste of him off his fingers, but as soon as you finish, those same now spit covered fingers rest under your chin and force your head up so your eyes can meet.

A silent gasp releases under your breath as you see an uncharacteristic carefree yet somehow cocky smile on Billy’s face. That submissive man you saw not even five minutes ago gone as this new, changed man sits before you. Like some sort of strange sexual butterfly.

“You were a good girl for me.” He simply says, allowing you to bask in the feeling of his dominance that makes your legs weak at the knees. “And good girls if I’m right, get rewarded. You taught me that pretty girl. So please, get naked, and get on the bed for me arse up, so I can reward you for being so good for me.”

Fuck you’ve made a monster. A sexy one yes, but still a sexually dominant monster.

You do as Billy says to a T. Stripping yourself quickly so that your clothes are all over the bedroom floor, and placing your body on the bed in Billy’s desired position. You wait with bated breath for what feels like hours while your skin erupts in a multitude of goosebumps, and you swear you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Billy’s warm skin suddenly against yours. You feel his half hard cock rubbing almost pitifully against your arse, and you realise with a very sick thrill that you can actually feel him getting harder the more your juices seem to coat him.

It seems though you were so caught up in your thoughts, that you miss the sounds of Billy’s own clumsy movements of stripping.

“So pretty…” He groans. A beautiful sound that leaves you wanting more more and more. How greedy of you… “You want to be fucked by me don’t you? By your boss?”

“Yes sir!” You whine, your head going dull as you stay focused only Billy’s body and nothing else. On the way he makes you feel so effortlessly, and without meaning. “Want you to make me yours! Want me to make sure everyone knows I only belong to you!”

You can hear Billy deeply grunt behind you, and with a gasp you don’t even at first realise belong to you, you feel Billy thrust his cock deep inside you. An intense feeling of fullness hitting you as you close your eyes and grip your hands desperately at the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

He gratefully allows you to get used to the sudden intrusion, but before you know it, Billy is quickly thrusting himself quickly in and out of you while you moan and keen for more beneath him. Your eyes screwing shut as your lower belly slowly tightens harder and harder.

“So good!” He groans, unexpectedly yet cautiously smacking your backside with his palm that causes an absolute pathetic sound to leave your lips. “My sweet little slut. All mine to fuck!”

An abundance of yeses comes quickly and brainlessly as you answer Billy’s statement with a high pitched moan. All you want right now is to cum. And by the way you can feel your cunt clenching and fluttering hard around Billy’s cock, you can guess it won’t be long before you do.

“Fuck sir I wanna cum please let me cum for you sir I’ve been so good!” You whine, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Billy somehow manages to move himself faster against you. The sound of his skin smacking at such a fast pace against your own to your ears sounding like an erotic symphony.

“Yes… you have been good…” Billy groans. His voice so strained it’s as if he’s struggling with all his strength to say them. “So you’ll continue to be good… by taking my fucking cum in your perfect cunt!”

You take that as your queue, and with a loud unwavering yell, you cum hard around Billy’s cock. Coaxing forth his own orgasm as he clutches hard at your skin and pushes himself as deep as he can to you. Moaning as you focus on the feeling of his hot cum filling you.

You can also feel his pubic hair stimulating your swollen clit, which leaves you silently gasping against the mattress and your aching pussy clenching against Billy’s softening cock.

The two of you stay where you are as you allow each other to breathe and calm down, yet it’s not long before the two of you are cuddling under the bed covers, with Billy’s cock still inside you.

“Did you like that baby?” You can’t help but murmur. Anxious on whether Billy was happy over you pushing him out of his usual comfort zone.

“It was different…” He summarises. You cannot see his face to make any assumptions. Given that your man has gone back to his roots by putting his head in the curve of your neck. “But I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

You may not be able to see it, but even so, your ego swells massively when you realise you can feel Billy’s bashful smile against your skin. It almost makes you want to have your wicked way with him again. That is though, before you realise with a warm feeling chest that Billy has steadily fallen asleep against you. With his softened cock still inside you, and your arms wrapped firmly around his body ensuring his safety.

“Sleep baby…” You murmur, kissing the top of his head with a smile. “You were such a good boy for me baby… we’ll see about rewarding you later….”

You may have imagined it, but you swear you can feel Billy smile against your skin. Yet you push the thought away and instead choose to close your eyes, and allow your own exhaustion to overcome you. You and Billy’s breaths and hearts synching as you hold each other with as much love as a sleeping person could handle.

#Billy Washington #trigger point #Billy Washington x reader #Billy Washington/reader #trigger point fanfiction #Billy Washington fanfiction #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan nation #my works #Billy Washington imagine

[daebakinc]

Sea Creature

Pairing: Christian Yu x Reader (G) Prompt: Creature from the Black Lagoon Word Count: 2.9K

~Admin V

            At first you were afraid of visiting your cousin in Australia. You’d seen too many memes and videos of the frightening wildlife there. You personally couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than putting your foot in your shoe to meet a large spider, or a snake coming up from the toilet.

             She’d finally convinced you though. She’d opened up her own juice café and wanted you stay with her and help her out. You could explore the country on days off, enjoy local foods, and according to her, meet some of the cute boys who worked with her.

             You arrived at Sydney Airport the night before. The jetlag was unreal. But you did need to eat, so you agreed to go into the café that morning and see everything.

             Everyone greeted your cousin as you both walked in. She promptly introduced you to them and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself, all the workers were really really cute, just as she said.

             You looked around the café and were surprised at its size. It looked just like a coffee house, only it had tropical colors and served juice in place of coffee. It was also by the pier leading right into the ocean, so it had an incredible view.

             “Honestly,” you looked at your cousin. “When you told me you were opening a juice café, I thought it would be kinda lame, like a small room with a juice bar in it. But this. Just wow.”

             Your cousin scoffed then smirked. “Since when would I do anything lame?”

             A sheepish smile appeared on your face.

             “Alright, now to try our product.” She led you to the counter. “Christian!”

             It took you everything in your power to keep your mouth from falling open. Beautifully tanned, muscled, and tattooed was the man your cousin summoned.

             “This is Christian,” she started. “He’s kind of a renaissance man around here. He does heavy lifting, stock, even catches fresh seafood for us to serve. But I think his specialty is making juice.”

             He chuckled and shook his head as your cousin introduced you to him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” His accent made your legs wobbly. “Glad you finally decided to come out.”

             A delivery man called out to your cousin. She looked to you both. “Duty calls. Christian, I think the plane ride was long and electrolytes are definitely needed.”

             He nodded. “Got it, boss.”

             Your cousin left you alone with arguably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

             “So, before I forget, I got you a welcoming present.”

             “You did? Really?”

             He laughed again. “Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing special.” He handed you an unwrapped box.

             “A pocket knife?”

             “Trust me, you don’t wanna be caught around these parts without one.”

             “Oh, well thank you.” You took it from the box and put it in your bag.

             “Alright, so, I promised to make you a juice. What do you like?”

             Your sheepish smile returned. “I actually don’t really like juice. I’m not really a fruit person.”

             He stared at you for a long minute then laughter burst from him. Your cheeks burned red as you waited for him to calm down. “You’re telling me, you came all this way to Australia to work at a juice bar, and you don’t even like juice? Oh, that’s rich.”

             “I came all this way to Australia for my cousin to help her with her new business venture. And besides, at least we know I won’t be drinking all the inventory.”

             He smiled at you. Your heart palpitations had you wondering if you’d survive working a shift with him.

             “Plus,” you added. “She told me she’d allow music performances at nights, so it gives me a chance to show off my talents.”

             Christian’s eyebrow quirked. “So you’re a singer?”

             “Sometimes. Sometimes I’m a writer, too.”

             “Me too. She lets me and my crew perform as well.”

             Your stomach fluttered. “You sing?”

             “And play guitar.”

             You felt utterly attacked that your cousin didn’t warn you a god among men worked for her. She said cute, not devastating.

             “Alright, so you don’t like any fruit then?”

             “I like some. Melon, strawberries, bananas . . . maybe mango and kiwi. That’s about it.”

             He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

             You watched as he reached to the undercounter cooler and grabbed containers of sliced fruits.

             “Smoothie okay?”

             You bobbed your head.

             He worked quickly, tossing orange, red, and green colored fruit chunks into a blender. A blob of yogurt found its way into the concoction. Soon he was pushing a cup in your direction. Finally, he poked a straw into the liquid. “Go ahead, tell me what you think.”

            You peered into the cup. It didn’t look pretty, but it smelled nice at least. You put the straw in your mouth and took a small sip. Then a big sip. Your cousin wasn’t kidding. He was a juice expert.

             The big smirk on his face told you he knew it as well. “Come on. I’ll show you the pier.”

You grabbed your drink and followed Christian outside as he walked straight to a railing and looked over at the ocean view.

“Wow.”

He smiled next to you but kept his eyes ahead. “I live on that island there,” he pointed out.

You stared out at it. You could see what looked like a small house. It looked pretty. Then you looked around the pier for a boat. “How do you get to work every day?”

“I swim.”

“What?” He swims? Then you looked at his arms and shoulders. Actually, that checked out. “You must really love to be in the water.

“Can’t get enough of it.”

You sipped at your drink. “I was so wrong about Australia.”

He quirked an eyebrow and glanced in your direction. “Yeah?”

“I thought it would be just hot, desert, creatures from hell. I didn’t think I would like it this much so far.”

“You can’t have seen much. Didn’t you just get off the plane?”

You giggled in embarrassment. “Well, yeah. But it hasn’t been anything I’ve expected.”

“Hang on.” He took your cup from you, walked back into the café and yelled something to your cousin. Then he came back out and nodded toward the road. “Let’s go.”

You ran to catch up to him. “Where are we going?”

He stopped in front of a motorcycle. “I’m showing you Australia. At least these parts.”

You eyed the bike then looked back to him. “On that?”

“Ever been on one before?”

You shook your head.

Christian grabbed both your shoulders and looked deep into your eyes.

In a trance, you had no control over yourself and could do nothing but stare back into his deep chocolate orbs.

“Trust me. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

You felt yourself nod.

The smirk was back on his face. He released you and turned back to his motorcycle. He grabbed the only helmet and handed it to you. He straddled the bike and waited patiently for you to regain your composure while you strapped on the helmet.

Once it was on you couldn’t make yourself move. You stared at him sitting on the bike.

“Don’t be scared.” His hand stretched out for you to take.

When you held his hand, he pulled it to his waist. You climbed onto the bike. There was some space between the two of you until he reached behind for your legs and pulled you forward so you were right up against him. He then took your arms and wrapped them around his torso. “I thought I told you not to be scared,” he spoke over his shoulder.

You were thankful that he was in front and couldn’t see the deep shade of red your cheeks were.

The engine of the motorcycle came to life. It startled you it was so loud. Sensing your movement, Christian reached down to your hands around him and stroked up and down your arms. When he felt you ease against him, he lifted the kickstand and the bike sped onto the road.

Your face buried into his back for the first minute or so, but as you got used to it, you turned and looked at the landscape.

At first it was mostly beach. Then the road led inland. The buildings were a mixture of modern and old fashioned. The street lights had a vintage look. There were a lot more trees than you would’ve thought.

When he reached a stoplight you loosened your grip around him, which urged him to speed away when the light was green so you’d grab him tight again. He slowed down when you reached the opera house. He stopped the bike and helped you off. He chuckled when he took in your face. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Why?”

“You look a little pale.”

“Maybe because you’re a speed demon.” You took off the helmet and tossed it at him. He caught it easily.

He walked with you around the opera house and explained little trivias about it and the area you drove around previously. He casually mentioned taking you to a concert there sometime which again made your knees weak. After an hour he took you back on the bike, but went a different route to the café, giving you more of Australia to take in.

Once back at the café he offered to make you food and another juice. While you ate, he had to get back to work and your cousin sat with you.

“So . . . whatchya think?”

“That you’re a jerk. You didn’t tell me Adonis worked for you!”

She snickered. “Yeah, he’s something.”

“Do you know he swims here?” You bit into your prawn sandwich.

Your cousin nodded. “Just wait til you see him come into work shirtless in his swim trunks.”

You choked on your food. Your cousin patted you on the back, but still laughed at you.

After you were finished eating, she took you back home so you could sleep off some jetlag.

Once you were adjusted to the time difference, you spent the next several weeks training. Your cousin and the other workers were all really supportive and helped show you the ropes. But Christian held your heart and was your favorite to work with. He always joked easily with you and pushed you to do more and try more than you thought you’d be ready for. On days off he took you to the beach and showed you more of his favorite places, like a nearby lagoon and the best steakhouse on the coast. He showed you how to use the pocket knife for simple things and where to keep it handy. You got to hear him and his friends play music and everyone heard you perform as well. You were falling in love with your life here.

You and your cousin were the first in the café for the day. That seemed a little odd. Christian was usually in with some kind of sea life he’d caught on his way in.

“Maybe it was bigger than he could handle,” your cousin suggested.

You simply nodded and decided to get started on prepping for the morning shift.

Two hours went by. The other workers on shift came in, but still no Christian. You knew it was silly, but you were worried about him. In the few weeks you’d gotten to know him, you knew he was nothing but punctual. He was the first one in and last one out.

You looked out front of the café. His bike was there. You made your way to the pier and stared at the small home on the island he claimed as his. You wondered if maybe one of the other coworkers had a jet ski or small boat you could borrow.

You scanned down the pier towards the jetty. That’s when you noticed a small fishing boat with a net hanging over the side. A large something was thrashing around in the net. A dolphin?

You desperately looked for someone to alert, but there was no one to be seen.

Running down to the boat, you searched to find crewmen, but still no one. You looked over at the side with the net. 

It wasn’t a dolphin. If not for the scaly skin and fishy looking head, you might’ve thought it was human. 

The non-dolphin stopped moving and was staring right at you. Dark chocolate eyes held yours. You knew those eyes.

 Without thinking you jumped into the water. The creature watched you, its eyes never leaving yours. A webbed hand lifted and held the net.

You reached in your back pocket for the knife Christian gave you that first day. You opened it slowly, worried the creature might think you were going to hurt it, but it remained calm. 

With the net in one hand, you sawed at the rope with the knife. It wasn’t easy. The water made the knife slippery in your hand and the rope was thicker than you expected.

             You had cut through five pieces when you heard yelling. A man was cursing at you. He was the crewman of the boat. You hadn’t cut enough when he jumped into the water.

             “Piss off, dronger! That’s my mermaid, you slag!”

             The panic made it harder to cut since you were trying to move quickly. He was getting closer. You tried to hand the knife to the creature, but it slipped from your fingers.

             “No,” you cried.

             The man was almost to you, still cursing at you. You and the creature both tried ripping the net where you’d made a hole so far. You were able to stretch it a bit so the creature could squeeze out. Then the man flung his hand across your face.

             “How dare you take what’s mine! I’ll kill you!”

             There was no time to react. You were suddenly pulled under water. Water rushed past you as you were being dragged by something. The creature! It was good that you were out of danger from the man, but a new problem was arising. You never took a breath before going under the water. You very badly needed to breathe. You tried to veer up, but the creature’s hold was strong and it was moving too quickly. You tried to reach for it, touch it to give it some kind of signal. It was no use. With the pressure of water moving against it and you, it was hard to feel anything else.

             You tried not to panic, because then you’d need air sooner. Unfortunately, you were already quite panicked. If you didn’t breathe soon, you’d pass out, and then your body would naturally try to breathe in air. And if you did breathe, the burn of salt water would hit your lungs.

             Thinking about it, you involuntarily inhaled. Instant regret as the water went down your lungs. It stung worse than you imagined. You tried coughing, but that only caused more water to be sucked in. The pain felt like it lasted for hours, but at the same time, it seemed to dissipate. Blackness took over your vision and you passed out.

                  There was compression on your chest. It hurt. When it stopped, wind blew into your mouth. You wanted to react, but you were in a kind of paralysis. The pressure was back on your chest. You could make out a male voice. It sounded worried. Stressed. Air was going back into your mouth. And you remembered water. You remembered the burn of salt water going into your lungs, and now felt the same bite as it was moving out. You coughed and water flowed out of your mouth. Your body was being turned as you continued choking out the water, allowing it to come out more easily. The paralysis eased and you could move your hands to hold yourself off the ground. When it felt like there was nothing else to cough you gasped for air.

                  “Oh thank fucking Christ.” You recognized Christian’s voice. His hand was moving in big circles on your back as you regained a normal breathing pattern. You sat down and only glanced at the man beside you, acutely aware that he was completely naked next to you. “I’m so sorry. I was only thinking about getting out of there, not that you would need to breathe.”

                  You were confused. You couldn’t remember what happened. You looked into his eyes and tears started welling in yours. “Christian?”

                  He quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his warm embrace. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

                  You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t help yourself from sobbing. “What’s going on? I – I can’t – I don’t remember.” You continued crying.

                  He gave you a big squeeze of a hug and held you until you calmed. Once your sobs stopped, he pulled back and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

                  You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, eyes that felt so familiar to you but now so strange.

                  “I can explain.”

#31 days of halloween #christian yu #dpr #christian yu fics #christian yu scenarios #dpr fics #dpr scenarios #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #dpr ian #dpr ian fics #dpr ian scenarios

[loneberry]

Seeing Double 

The shock of familiarity, of recognition even as what is in front of you is not what you have seen before, a paramnesiac fugue, for the past and its phantoms are playing a trick on you. Thus, the Greek teacher traveling alone in Switzerland in Han Kang’s novel Greek Lessons gets off a boat in a small city called Brunnen, drawn by a memory of the Suyuri neighborhood (now Suyu-dong) of Seoul, the neighborhood flanked by two mountain peaks: Baekundae to the left and Insubong to the right. Brunnen had conjured a childhood landscape in the mind of the weary wanderer. When he disembarked at the quay, a pale blond-haired man sitting at a café catches his eye. “He didn’t resemble you in the slightest, and yet he made me think of you.”

Leaving, he must lose his object all over again—it doesn’t matter that the German and the Swiss man have been transposed, so powerful is the mind’s capacity to pin all the unrealized hopes associated with lost objects onto ill-founded doppelgängers, all the like-you-but-not-really-s who step into our field of vision, oblivious to the idiosyncratic characteristics they possess that bind them to others—to strangers—circulating in the world. It could be a birthmark, a verbal tic, their eyes, their gait, their style of thinking or sartorial preferences—something as deep as “they both had mothers who died when they were thirteen” or as superficial as “they both wore red pants.” Whatever the detail that binds the object and its double, the nervous system responds as though they were one and the same, returning the perceiver of the echo to the same physiological state induced by the originary object.

I pause writing in my journal to read Deleuze’s Bergsonism, get lost for an hour trying to understand Bergson’s theory of memory and duration, of the coexistence of the past and present, rather than the linear view of time. Deleuze: “The past and the present do not denote two successive moments, but two elements which coexist: One is the present, which does not cease to pass, and the other is the past, which does not cease to be but through which all presents pass.”

There are people who live this split-screen existence more intensely than others, who experience the-past-in-the-present perhaps even more vividly than the scene that is in front of them. Is that the quality possessed by the characters in Han Kang’s novels and Theo Angelopoulos’s films that hypnotizes me, the elegiac atmosphere, the way the haunted melancholics walk around, out of sync with the world? In Angelopoulos’s Eternity and a Day, Alexandros, a middle-aged, terminally ill poet with a beard, is driving his car at night. He stops at a stoplight. When the light turns green, he does not move. Oh no—is he dead? I thought while watching the scene. He sits there, stock-still, like a protruding stone in a river, while the cars flow around his unmoving vehicle—a metaphor for the way our tempo sometimes comes unstitched from the tempo of the world. For the entire night he sits frozen, stares out the windshield until sunrise, then drives away.

His daughter informs him—she has sold his old house. He returns to the old seaside house in Thessaloniki. As he paces the derelict building, he hears the voice of his late wife Anna reading a passionate letter she had written to him while sitting by the sea. The letter concludes with the words: “Give me this day.” As the last line rings out, the shutters swing open, revealing a stunning vista of the sea of memory, a vision of the past: to the right, Alexandros’s mother sits on the balcony rocking his newborn baby, while below, his dead wife Anna and their friends sing on the shore. In the distance, all are facing away from him, toward the sea, until she and she alone turns to face him, her beautiful white dress blowing in the sea breeze. Then he’s down there, inside the memory as she implores him to join them in dance. The other people fade, until she too disappears.

On the shore he delivers a soliloquy on the split-screen life: “With words, I brought you back. You are there. And all is true and waiting…for the truth. For the truth.”

*

I remember, last fall, walking around the Kreuzberg neighborhood of Berlin with Al Burian, killing time before heading over to Sylvia Schedelbauer’s dinner party. Under the crepuscular sky, we were indecisive about where to go and eventually wandered into a graveyard, where we walked among the dead until it was fully dark. Al said that he knew it was time to leave Chicago when every inch of the city had a memory attached to it—he could no longer simply walk around without feeling held captive to the past, to the mental stream of associations summoned by particular places. Berlin was becoming that to him now: every location came with customized emotional baggage. As he was saying this to me, I knew he was thinking about a memory he had associated with the graveyard we were in—I dared not ask what the memory was.

We walked all the way to the other side of the graveyard. Did he go off to find a place to piss in the dark? We were talking about dreams. I was telling him about the monomanias implanted by my dreams, how they possess my soul, how I cannot stop until the oneiric prophecy has been realized. “Which is a liability because, as technicians of the sacred know, not all dreams are true. Penelope knew this. In Homer’s Odyssey, she spoke of the difference between dreams that pass through the gate of horn (true ones) and dreams that pass through the gate of ivory (false ones)—the Greek for horn being similar to the word fulfill, while ivory was similar to deceive. But what method did Penelope use to sort the true dreams from the false ones?? If only I knew! Perhaps your father could help me.” (His father being an emeritus professor of Classics and scholar of ancient Greek literature.)

He told me about how he had found the collected works of Freud discarded on a street, how he regretted not taking the volumes. I told him about a dream I had as a teenager: “You appeared in a retro living room with Björk, standing in front of a switched off TV, in a Lynchian set that exuded a surrealist Americana vibe. I thought to myself—my two favorite people! How happy I was in the dream.” (That was two decades ago. Then I was just a fan of his writing. His worked had ignited, in me, a desire to write—to become a writer.)

When we walked back to the entrance of the cemetery, the gate was locked. We panicked for a moment, until we found a tree stump that we climbed onto to hoist ourselves over the fence. While walking up the staircase to Sylvia’s top-floor apartment, I said, “And what would have happened if we got trapped in the graveyard all night?”

“We’d probably talk about our childhoods until sunrise,” he joked.  

I was wearing my t-shirt emblazoned with the opening page of Virginia Woolf’s The Waves, which I bought when I was teaching the novel in my “Water and the Imagination” class. (“Why not rep the most epic opening in all of literature?” I joked to my students, pointing to my shirt.) Later, as I was reading the ending of Woolf’s Orlando, I came across a passage that made me want to email Al to ask what memory he was thinking about as we perambulated through the cemetery in the diminishing light. I remember the dread in his voice as he spoke softly about the days getting shorter, the darkness that was the coming of winter—would it be the first winter without his mother?

I grab my copy of Orlando to look for the quote that made me think of that night.

Orlando bemoans:

“‘Time has passed over me,’ she thought, trying to collect herself; ‘this is the oncome of middle age. How strange it is! Nothing is any longer one thing. I take up a handbag and I think of an old bumboat woman frozen in the ice. Someone lights a pink candle and I see a girl in Russian trousers. When I step out of doors—as I do now,’ here she stepped on to the pavement of Oxford Street, ‘what is it that I taste? Little herbs. I hear goat bells. I see mountains. Turkey? India? Persia?’ Her eyes filled with tears.”

How much heavier the weight of memory must have been for Orlando, who had accumulated three centuries of experience! Woolf reminds us: “For if there are (at a venture) seventy-six different times all ticking in the mind at once, how many different people are there not—Heaven help us—all having lodgment at one time or another in the human spirit?”

In the margin of the book, near the passages I had marked, I had jotted down a note about the exchange in the graveyard:

Every place had a memory associated with it, so that as he moved through the city, he experienced time non-linearly. That’s when he knew it was time to go. “You don’t like that feeling?” I asked, thinking about how beautiful my memories appear to me at sunset.

(And isn’t reading so much like walking through the memory-conjuring cemetery? That’s why my marginalia so often consists of memories triggered by the text I’m reading, the way Woolf’s description of all the times ticking inside us made me think of Al.)

#film #literature #theo angelopoulos #dreams #Al burian #hang kang #Homer #memory #time #deleuze #bergsonism #henri bergson #virginia woolf #Woolf #orlando

[katnissgirlsmakedo]

well see the thing about the wicked powers is that we literally have to give thanks and praise and all that to dru because frankly she's taking the craziest hits for me on multiple fronts. as we all know every cassie series has to have some semblance of a love triangle and i always hate it and she never stops doing it and it makes me want to kill her more than anything in the world. dru's taking the love triangle bullet and the thing about it is that she might actually slay. this could be cassie's first love triangle that doesn't make me want to shoot myself in the head. sorry. no i didn't like tessa's either i was not a tid girlie i respect those who were but that was not my life peace and love. i hate a love triangle i really do. it's always so clear which guy she has to end up with it's fucking annoying. and that's also true for dru and ash like we all know she's not ending up with jamie he's a red herring but still it could possibly even be interesting. you know? like i actually want to see how this pans out. as opposed to say. cordelia and matthew, which made me want to kill myself. the other thing is that cassie loves it when her girl protagonists do this annoying ass oh i'm so insecure how could he ever love little old me thing, which with characters like emma and cordelia, again, made me want to fucking kill myself. but dru could slay that, we already know she would feel that way about jamie, we don't know anything about ash actually and i don't want to cast judgment on him so early so i won't speculate about whether the insecurity shit will be annoying for them. small tangent, i LOVE how cassie has given us basically nothing about ash. good. i don't want to know lest i develop an incorrect perception just to watch cassie jace/will-ify him twp book one. i had to watch that happen to my buddy james herondale and it made me so mad it's unreal. like i would prefer to not get to know that boy until we're like maybe six months out from release. to be honest. i've just been sitting here thinking well he's probably going to either be like a holly black love interest or he's going to be another will herondale-ified stock love interest. either way i don't care the point is i'm flexible. finally the last thing i need to say rn, and this is what i was thinking about earlier if you recall. the other thing all cassie main couples have to do is secret relationships. these idiots love getting into secret relationahips it's so crazy. one thing about me: i hate secret relationships. the way cassie does it can be slay (emma and jules) but i would kill myself if that had to happen to kit and ty. so i'm so absolutely grateful that they aren't the main relationship and dru is the one that has to take all these hits. she's literally doing so much for me AND she might even slay all of it. i hate to say this but i might love her as a protagonist more than cordelia. that's an early thought though don't hold me to that. but think about all the cassie protagonist staples, and then think about dru. she could really slay that in a way not seen before since clary herself..... emma of course is exempt from a lot of the cassie staples because emma and jules are special in the sense that they're like essentially gender flipped. it's complicated to explain but just trust me when i say cassie has a formula and emma and jules are something different, and that's why they're my favorites of course <3

anyway. thanks dru. i'm thrilled to see her as a protagonist and my special guys as secondary protagonists, truly nothing better than being the secondary romance in a cassie book, remember lucie and jesse...... goddamn. would you all say simon and izzy of magnus and alec are the "secondary romace" of tmi? discussion question. i would say simon and izzy because simon is the tertiary protagonist, but i feel like maybe they're actually just equally secondary. obviously the secondary romanc eof tda is cristina et al but they're a flop as we all know. however it only makes sense that they'd be the flop secondary romance because tda is the exception to the main couple rules. well in any case i'm glad this series won't come out for a while i sincerely need to become normal before i have to read all that.

#also it's sooooo foggy outside it's so slay #this is some top tier spring-esque gothic horror romance fog..... #beth.txt #tsc

[nathanpenlington]

Books of the year 2022

I'm not sure where the year went, but here we are again at my books of the year list. 

Like my previous books of the year posts, date of publication is not relevant for this list. This year I had to reread about 70 Choose Your Own Adventure books for a project - they are still as smart, funny, and engaging as ever, but as my love for those is so well documented I haven't included any here. 

So, these are the best books to find me - for the first time - in 2022.

#1 - My favourite thing is monsters - Volume 1 - Emil Ferris (2017)

This book is truly incredible, but not an easy read. 

Drawn mostly with Bic ballpoint pen, it breaks the conventions of graphic novels in many ways. On the surface Monsters is a coming of age story set in 60's Chicago, but it is a multi-layered narrative that catalogues monsters in all forms - those in pulp comics, those responsible for the horrors of the holocaust, and monsters that enable brutal sexual exploitation and abuse.   

It's embedded with sadness, weighed with the heaviness of human struggle, but shot through with light and love. A genuinely important work. 

Volume 2 is forthcoming, I hope in 2023. If so, I can't see it not making next year's list.

#2 - Acting Class - Nick Drnaso (2022)

I loved Nick's previous books - Beverly, and Sabrina - but Acting Class, for me, surpasses both. In Acting Class, as you'd expect, a disparate group of strangers join an amateur acting class. But what the title doesn't give away is the David Lynch like sense of uncanny, an under the surface oddness, which makes the ongoing narrative full of tension. It's compelling in every way.

  #3 - The Labyrinth - Simon Stålenhag (2021)

All of Simon's other books have made my previous books of the year lists, The Labyrinth deserves its place on this year's list too. 

In short The Labyrinth is a brutal sci-fi graphic novel, in which guilt and redemption collide. The art and words work together to build a darker world, where everyday horror seeps into an alternate past future.

  #4 - The Confidence Men - Margalit Fox (2021)

During the 1st World War, two British officers conspired to escape a remote Turkish prisoner of war camp. What follows is a true story of an elaborately planned, long running con, involving seances, spirits, and sleight of hand trickery. It's an outstandingly researched and written book. Film rights have been optioned by Fox, which doesn't surprise me, but the detail in the writing is a joy.

  #5 - Magritte in 400 images - Julie Waseige (2021)

Rene Magritte has been one of my favourite artists since discovering his work as a teenager, tucked away in the tiny Abergele library  in a book on surrealist painters.

This book covers a huge amount of his output, in chronological order. It's interesting to track his obsessions and motifs as they recur and develop. Magritte's use of the ordinary made strange creates a quiet unease, at odds with the more fleshy surrealism of someone like Dali. Magritte's work often playfully explores aspects of illusion and unreality, an area I'm constantly drawn to.  And the best children's book we've read this last year? My oldest daughter is now 6, she's learnt to read using the Biff, Chip and Kipper series (created by Roderick Hunt and illustrated by Alex Brychta in 1986). The illustrations are full of incidental details that are brilliant asides to a world bigger than the story. Creating compelling stories using a limited vocabulary is a constraint greater in challenge than anything used by George Perec.

  My daughter's favourite books have been the Pizazz series by Sophy Henn.

Imagine a girl who is a reluctant super-hero, embarrassed by her super-power (glitter jazz hands anyone?), always wearing her too long cape (chosen by her mum), having to save the world before school, and still forced to do homework. We read them all in a month, thanks to the well stocked Hackney library. Pizazz is funny, smart, and identifiable.

#books #books of the year #2022 #reading #top 5 #my favourite thing is monsters #emil ferris #acting class #nick drnaso #The Labyrinth #simon stalenhag #the confidence men #margalit fox #rene magritte #julie waseige #pizazz #sophy henn

[justafoxhound]

5 song pairing playlist

Tagged by @chennnington

Post 5 songs for the ship of your choice (canon/canon, oc/oc, canon/oc, whatever!) with some lyrics for each.

OK well I haven't really thought about any other pairings that hard, so doing it for my Lone wanderer Talia/Mr Burke. 

Dangerous Woman - Rosenfeld

You heard my prayers My cry for danger You came down to me like the darkest of angels But your salvation Feels like damnation I'm prey to the worst of assassinations// You're a dangerous woman

Power - Isak Danielson 

I was lost until I found me in you I saw a side of me that I was scared to But now I hear my name and I'm running your way All I feel as I get closer to you Is the desire to move like you do So now I hear my name and I'm running your way

NIB - Black Sabbath (i think he makes big promises)

Some people say my love cannot be true Please believe me, my love, and I'll show you I will give you those things you thought unreal The sun, the moon, the stars, all bear my seal

Don't let me be misunderstood - Nina Simone (but vibe wise I like the Santa Esmeralda version) You know, sometimes, baby, I'm so carefree With a joy that's hard to hide And then, sometimes, again, it seems that all I have is worry And then you're bound to see my other side But, oh, I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh, Lord, please, don't let me be misunderstood

Anger management - Nathaniel Merriweather (I haven’t hit on anything else really so I looked at this silly album and, yeah, this could fit stock Burke who sends those love letters xD)

My inner demons compel me to be here Your cheeks are flush like rose petals You're consumed with rage but I'm consumed with you Our eyes intertwine through the haze Intoxicated by your bloodshot stare In all of my dreams I never thought i'd see A face that could launch a thousand ships

#ask game #OC: Talia #fo3 #lone wanderer #mr burke #it will not save my formatting #bleh

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus 

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔 

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor 

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long! 

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron?? 

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

[hotdamnhunnam]

I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar. 

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

*************** 

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit. 

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute. 

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress. 

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow. 

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip. 

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should. 

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact. 

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need. 

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact. 

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute. 

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

***************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Billionaires don't pay tax

When Clinton accused Trump of paying no federal taxes, he didn’t deny it — rather, he said, “That makes me smart.”

He wasn’t the first rich sociopath to make that claim. Remember when Leona Helmsley told the press “only little people pay taxes?”

https://apicciano.commons.gc.cuny.edu/2020/09/28/remembering-leona-helmsley-the-queen-of-mean-only-the-little-people-pay-taxes-we-have-donald-trump-the-don-of-con/

Today, Propublica published the first in a series of blockbuster analyses of leaked tax data from America’s richest billionaires — some of whom have lobbies for higher taxes on the rich! — showing that the true tax rate for billionaires is 3.4%.

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-trove-of-never-before-seen-records-reveal-how-the-wealthiest-avoid-income-tax

These records — which include tax data for Elon Musk, Warren Buffett, Jeff Bezos, Michael Bloomberg, George Soros, Carl Icahn and others — reveal that it’s not just sneering boasters like Trump and Helmsley who avoid the tax the rest of us pay — it’s the whole cohort.

Much has been made of the “K-shaped” recovery from the pandemic-driven economic collapse, where the rich got richer and the poor got poorer, but when it comes to the 0.001%, this is far more pronounced. America’s billionaires got $1.2 trillion richer during the pandemic.

Much of this wealth accumulation is due to the fact that poor people pay high taxes, while rich people pay low taxes. A household earning $70k pays about 14% in federal tax; In 2019, Michael Bloomberg made $2B and paid 1.3% of it in federal tax.

All this wealth-accumulation creates family dynasties, meaning that the rich stay rich, and the poor stay poor, and the only real social mobility is downward, as the middle class loses ground and slips down the ladder.

https://doctorow.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

A quarter of America’s richest people owe their fortune to the orifice they emerged from, not the work they did. These heirs — Waltons, Mars candy scions, Estee Lauder’s kid — are the new permanent aristocracy, uplifted by the invisible hand by virtue of their “good blood.”

The Propublica report — from Jesse Eisenger, Jeff Ernsthausen and Paul Kiel — is valuable not just for the names it names, but for the tax-evasion tactics it explains and the historical context it provides.

Whenever someone points out that Jeff Bezos is so rich that he could afford to give a living wage to his vast, precarious, food-stamp-dependent blue-collar workforce, someone inevitably points out that Bezos’s wealth is in shares, not cash and is thus illusory.

This is only partly true, and it obscures more than it illuminates. It’s true that CEOs habitually draw nominal salaries — often $1/year — and are only “rich on paper,” but this doesn’t mean they’re not immensely wealthy — rather, this is how they amass immenselwealth.

Here’s how that works: the US only taxes capital gains (money you make from owning things, as opposed to doing things) when they are “realized” — that is, when you sell the asset that has appreciated in value. If you never sell your asset, you never pay tax on it.

So when an exec takes compensation in stock rather than cash, the exec pays no tax unless they sell the shares. But execs don’t have to sell any shares in order to get millions or billions of dollars to play with. Rather, they can stake those shares as collateral on loans.

If an exec sells their shares, they’ll pay a 20% capital gains tax. If they borrow against the shares, they’ll pay single-digit interest rates. What’s more, loans aren’t treated as income, so no tax is paid on the loan.

Even better, the interest on the loan can be treated as an expense, which you can apply to any money that comes in the door that you can’t help but declare as income.

Working people borrow money because they can’t afford to buy cars or houses or just close the gap between payday and an empty fridge. Rich people borrow because it lets them launder their income into tax-free loans.

Here’s the thing: this is exactly what critics of this system predicted would happen. In 1920, Rep Cordell Hull (“the father of income tax”) warned that the Supreme Court’s ruling in Macomber would let rich people “live upon the value” of stock “without ever paying” tax.

Congress could have fixed the tax law, but it left this loophole open, along with other loopholes, like the “step-up in basis” rule that allows billionaires to pass on vast fortunes without ever paying capital gains taxes on them (the true origin of “good blood”).

When Propublica called billionaires for comment, they either got stonewalled (Elon Musk sent them a single “?” then ghosted), or heard bluster about “privacy invasions” or got responses like Warren Buffett’s, about his plan to give away all his money.

That’s more “good blood” nonsense: the idea that we should let people amass vast fortunes through monopoly and exploitation, so long as they — and not democratically accountable governments — then use it for social benefit.

Elite philanthropy is no substitute for democratic programs. It’s primarily a means for the ultra-wealthy to launder their reputations.

Take the Sacklers — made richer than the Rockefellers through the opioid epidemic’s corporate mass murders:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/23/a-bankrupt-process/#sacklers

What’s more, elite philanthropy is a vehicle for pushing “good blood” ideology. Bill Gates’s foundation didn’t just set out to eradicate malaria, but also public education.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/13/public-interest-pharma/#gates-foundation

It recycled the materials it used to lobby against letting South Africa make its own HIV medicine to lobby against a covid vaccine waiver:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/21/wait-your-turn/#vaccine-apartheid

This report is the first in a series based on the anonymous leaked data. Propublica says its source was motivated by their stellar reporting on the IRS, which revealed the intense lobbying to weaken the agency’s power to audit the wealthy.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Instead, the IRS was perverted so that it primarily targeted poor people for audits, because they alone were weak enough not to resist the IRS’s starved, resource-poor auditing division.

Propublica still has a lot of data to report out, but they’re interested in hearing from other sources. In this supplemental article, they explain how IRS whistleblowers and others can securely leak more documents to them.

https://projects.propublica.org/tips/help-us-report-on-taxes-and-ultrawealthy/

And if you don’t have time to digest the excellent story with its great explainers and graphics, Propublica’s got a 7-minute read version:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-short-form-a-quick-guide-to-what-we-uncovered

All of this leaves us with a question, though: what should we do about it? There’s a Biden tax plan to raise taxes on the rich, but as Propublica points out, it will have virtually no effect on the “buy-borrow-die” mode of wealth accumulation.

Two other proposals would have an impact, though: Ron Wyden has proposed a capital gains tax on unrealized gains:

https://www.finance.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/Treat%20Wealth%20Like%20Wages%20RM%20Wyden.pdf

And both Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren have proposed wealth taxes:

https://www.cnbc.com/2021/03/01/elizabeth-warren-bernie-sanders-propose-3percent-wealth-tax-on-billionaires.html

#pluralistic

[littleredwing89]

Baby It’s Cold Outside

BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE 

CamGirl!Reader x Jason Todd – One Shot.

Summary: Jason pouted and stepped forward trapping her against the wall with his arms, “Come on princess…they won’t mind if you’re late, just tell them Santa held you up”, he kissed down her neck biting the soft spot there.

Warnings – Language. NSFW. Smut.

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: I couldn’t help but revisit CamGirl!Reader x Jason. I received so many beautiful messages about how much you all enjoyed the camgirl series so I did an additional one shot. I hope you all love this.

Merry Christmas everyone. I hope you all have a fantastic festive period :) xoxo 🖤🖤🖤

***

Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises​ @internalsealpanic​ - this idea was all yours - thank you so much and thanks for proof reading. @batarella​ thanks for also proof reading :)

Tag List: @offendedfishnoises @batarella @idkmanicantenglish @foenixphire @ninergirl1d @psych0crybaby @theconfusedpansexualbitch @river9noble @geekonaleash @si-chelle @lucy-roo @sleepyjaks @butterfly-skinnylegend  @yourchelinn @illzarr @blackestpinkworld @internalsealpanic @vvipgot7be @clementinesandstars @thedeadlythoughts @fantasticwizardnerd @power-of-words23 @vintagexparker @jadedhillon​ @pricetagofficial​ @batarella-mini​ @baby-noona​

***

“Seriously?! You’re going into work dressed like that?”, Jason pulled at his shirt collar slightly, feeling the heat clawing up his neck. Fuck. She looked amazing.

“Yes, why?”, Y/N turned round to face him, tugging at her green elf sweater, “It’s the last day in the office before Christmas so we’re all getting dressed up”.

His eyes travelled up the length of her body and he visibly swallowed, her long legs looked perfect in the cute elf stockings, “Princess…you’re purposely trying to kill me here”.

She laughed, rolling her eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic Jason, it’s just an elf costume”.

Y/N placed a soft kiss on his cheek before fixing her elf hat, “Plus, after I’ve finished today, I’m all yours for two whole weeks, just in time for Christmas Eve”.

“I can’t wait”, Jason wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to him, capturing her lips in a delicate kiss. He moved his hands down slowly, over the curve of her ass before sneaking up her elf green skirt.

She giggled against his lips and pulled back, pushing his chest playfully, “Behave! I’ve got to get to the office in 30 minutes – we don’t have time for that”.

Jason pouted and stepped forward trapping her against the wall with his arms, “Come on princess…they won’t mind if you’re late, just tell them Santa held you up”, he kissed down her neck biting the soft spot there.

He heard her moan quietly and grinned against her skin, knowing he’d won. That was until she moved herself away from his sinful lips and dipped under his arms, “Jason, behave! I really do have to get into the office on time today...”.

Tipping his head back in frustration he groaned and looked over her body once last time. She winked at him before grabbing her bag and car keys, “I’ll be back before you know it”. 

As she closed their apartment door behind her, an idea flew into his mind. He smirked to himself grabbing his own keys from the side. He’d give her a good surprise for when she got home.

***

“I’m home!!”, Y/N called through the apartment dropping both her bag and keys on the side. She was so glad to be home. The chaos in the office was unreal just before Christmas. Everyone finishing up their reports and stories ready to print and publish. Rush, rush, rush.

“Jason?”, she called again walking through, into the apartment.

Y/N heard shuffling in the living room and following the noise, “Jay…what are you – oh my-”.

Jason stood in the centre of the living room with a wide smirk on his face. He opened his arms out and winked, “What do you think to the new suit princess? I can still fight crime in this right? It is red…”.

She couldn’t help but laugh at seeing her 6 ft 2, stocky boyfriend in a terrible red-felt Santa costume, “That is so tacky babe”.

He grinned cheekily and moved towards her, “Watch what you say to Santa, you upset him this morning you know...You left him high and dry”.

“This little elf had work to do, I can’t be pleasing Santa all the time you know”, Y/N looked up at him coyly, tugging at the black belt on his red slacks.

Jason's hands gripped around Y/N's waist, pulling her toward him. He kissed her deeply, their tongues sliding over each other and leaving them gasping for air. His hands travelled up to Y/N's shoulders and slid the green sweater off to the floor. She shuddered at his touch, and her own hands reached around to squeeze his ass. She could feel his cock getting hard between them, and she slid her hands back around front to stroke him through his pants.

Jason wanted nothing more than to rip off their clothes and fuck her hard, but he also wanted to savour the moment and see how far he could take it.

"You've been a naughty little elf", he said, hoping she would play along, but ready to back off if she wasn't.

"Oh, Santa", Y/N pouted, "Isn't there any way I can get back on your nice list?".

Jason smirked subtly before stepping back slightly.

"I might be able to think of something", he replied, unbuttoning his shirt so she could slip her hands inside. Y/N wasted no time, and was soon covering his chest with heated kisses, biting his chest, and nibbling on his earlobe as she worked her way up. He slipped out of the shirt and grabbed the Santa hat.

"That's good", he said, "but you're going to have to try a lot harder to get on MY good list", Jason unbuckled his belt, and without missing a beat Y/N took over.

"Here…Let me do that for you, Santa", she said, opening his fly and sliding her hands in to stroke his hard cock. Jason felt himself being pushed backward until he was forced to sit in the oversized armchair in their living room. As soon as he was settled into the chair Y/N knelt between his knees and took his cock in her mouth. Her aggressiveness and the tight warmth of her mouth nearly made him cum right then and there. As she worked her way up and down his shaft he breathed deeply and focused on enjoying the sensation. He felt himself working up to a climax, and Y/N must have realized it, because she slowed down.

"Do you want me to finish?", she whispered.

"No. I want you to take off your skirt", he told her. She stood up and gently pulled the skirt down around her ankles, revealing the sexy stockings and her bare pussy.

“You’re not wearing any panties?”.

Y/N shook her head as an innocent smile crept onto her lips.

"You really are a naughty girl - aren’t you? Now, turn around", he told her, and she obeyed without question.

Jason grabbed her hips and pulled her closer so he could reach around to feel her wet pussy. He rubbed his calloused fingertips over her clit and she moaned lightly.

"Why don't you come sit on Santa's lap?".

Y/N let herself be guided onto his lap so that her ass was rubbing against his erect cock. Then Jason got back to work, stroking her pussy and nibbling at the soft nape of her neck. Y/N started wiggling on top of him, wanting more. Without warning he shoved two fingers into her hot, tight pussy as far as they would go. Y/N let out a little gasp, then relaxed into it and started moving herself up and down on his fingers.

Jason let her fuck herself on his fingers for a while then went back to rubbing her clit and pushing his fingers deep into her pussy at the end of each stroke. Y/N was going crazy, bucking her hips with his movements, moaning loudly.

Y/N tried to get up so that she could let Jason enter her, but he wouldn't have any of it. Jason pushed her onto the ground on all fours, "Not so fast, you naughty little elf. You're not getting off that easy".

Then he slapped her ass hard. She cried out but, didn't make any move to get up or move away from him. Feeling more confident, he started to spank her again, repeating the motion. He kept it up until her ass was as red as his Santa slacks.

"Santa, please stop", she cried wiggling her ass at him trying to ease the stinging, "I'll be a good girl, I promise".

Jason couldn't hold back any longer and plunged his cock deep inside her eager pussy in one swift thrust. She cried out again and moaned as he started rocking her back and forth with his thrusts.

"You like it like that, don't you? You naughty elf".

"Oh, yes, Santa. I love it when you fuck me. Fuck me hard, Santa".

Jason grabbed her breasts out of her bra and pushed them together with his hands, palming them and rubbing her hard nipples between his fingers. He felt her tighten around his cock, and he did it again and again, feeling her getting close to an orgasm. He forced himself to relax so she wouldn't take him with her.

With a soft cry Y/N shuddered underneath Jason. He kept pulling on her nipples until she was squirming and moaning, but he kept at it until he felt her tighten again. Another slap to her red buttocks sent her over the edge again, and he let her slide forwards onto the ground, where she lay panting.

"Oh, no, little elf. I'm not done with you yet", Y/N looked over her shoulder, amazed to see his erection still hard and throbbing. She rolled over and sat up to take his cock in her mouth again. For a few minutes he stayed there, letting her taste her own juices on him. She hollowed out her cheeks as she took his cock as deep into her mouth as possible, groaning around him. Y/N felt him shivering in pleasure, his fingers wound tightly into her hair, tugging with each bob of her head.

Jason pulled Y/N up to him and kissed her deeply, then pushed her back to the floor, "Let's see if my little elf tastes as sweet as she looks", his voice was husky as he lowered himself down between her legs. Her clit was pulsing, and her pussy lips swollen with excitement. Jason took his time, exploring her folds of skin with his tongue and occasionally thrusting deep inside her tight slit. Her orgasm juices running down his chin as he licked her clit repeatedly.

Y/N was moaning and thrusting her hips into him. Jason wondered if she would let one of his desires come true. Using her own wetness, he began rubbing her anus until it was slick and slipped in one finger. She gasped, then relaxed. Slowly he worked the finger in and out and she warmed up to it quickly. He sucked on her clit as his finger fucked her, hearing her moans become delirious. When she felt ready, he let another finger slide inside. She didn't protest at all, and Jason was getting hot thinking about what he planned to do next.

He withdrew from her and sat back, leaving her puzzled and incredibly turned on, "Please, Santa", she whimpered, "I want more".

"I don't know", Jason replied, pretending to stroke an imaginary beard, "How much will you do to get back on my good list? Are you willing to do anything Santa tells you?".

"I will Santa…I'll be the best elf ever", Y/N was so hot she felt like she was on fire, and she yearned for Jason to touch her again.

"Roll over", he told her, and she went back to all fours, presenting him with her still red ass. He rubbed her ass again, feeling her relax and open up to him. He put the head of his cock up to it and rubbed a bit, waiting to see if she would say no. She didn't, and he pushed until the end of his cock disappeared inside her. Y/N shuddered, her muscles instinctively clamping down on his cock.

He groaned, fighting the urge to cum already. Then she relaxed again, and he slid in, a half an inch at a time, until he was fully sunk into her amazing ass. Deep. Taking his time, he worked himself back out, then in again. His pre-cum lubed her up, making it easier. At last, he was able thrust in and out without fear of hurting her, and he let himself really get into it.

Reaching around, he started working her breast with one hand and her pussy with the other. Y/N was so turned on she felt herself working up to another orgasm.

"Oh, fuck...faster…please! Faster", Jason picked up the pace, and soon Y/N felt another climax wash over her. Her ass tightened up, and it was just too much for Jason. He shot his cum deep inside her, groaning and pulling her to him.

***

They both collapsed to the floor then, spent and completely sated. After a minute, Jason pulled his shrinking cock out of Y/N's ass and rolled to the side facing her.

"Well, my little elf, I would say you passed the test".

"Hmmm…but I think Santa was a little naughty himself", Y/N laughed, her hand running up and down his chest softly, “But it was so good".

Jason pulled her into his arms and felt her relax into him. Her heartbeat calming along with his. Threading his fingers through her hair, he bent his head down, kissing the crown of her head lightly, “I love you”.

“Mmm, I love you too”, Y/N murmured back sleepily, cuddling into him tighter.

***

Different variants of Christmas wrapping littered the floor after Jason and Y/N had finished exchanging their gifts. Jason leaned back on their sofa and moved his arms to rest on the back, spreading his body out, “Your last present is inside the tree princess”.

Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Inside the tree?! What-”.

Jason nodded silently. As she turned away to begin her search he took in a calming breath.

This was it.

Y/N searched through the branches, cursing when several baubles fell off and hit the floor, “Where Jason?”.

Jason chuckled watching her destroy the Christmas tree, sneaking a quick glance at her ass in the tight, skinny jeans, “A bit further towards the back – yeah there, keep going”.

He watched her fighting against the tree and laughed louder moving from his spot on the sofa, “Noooo more towards your left! No, your left not my left!”.

Y/N huffed with frustration, “I can’t see anything Jason-”, as she turned around, she gasped loudly at the sight in front of her. Her hands flying over her mouth.

Jason was down on one knee with a little black box in his hand. 

“Merry Christmas Princess”.

He flicked open the box and coughed, suddenly feeling anxious. What was she going to say? The platinum ring with a single diamond in the middle sparkled at her.

Y/N felt her eyes welling up with tears, “Are you…”.

Jason nodded, “Marry me?”, he wiggled the box in front of her again.

The silence felt like hours but was merely seconds.

She dropped onto her knees next to him and hugged him tightly, crushing the box between their bodies, “Of course I will! Yes!!! Jason, Yes!!”.

Pulling back, she planted several kisses over his cheeks and lastly his lips, smiling happily against them.

Breaking their kiss, Jason took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her ring finger slowly, before pressing a light kiss to her hand.

“You’ve made me so happy princess”.

***

#jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood imagine #red hood x reader insert #red hood fanfiction #camgirl!reader x jason todd

[k7l4d4]

Two New AUs (Loud House & Amphibia)

Today I am rolling out two new AUs for all you folks looking for something to help fill the hole in your lives that only inspiration can! ...That was too over the top and I apologize for it. First off, my Loud House AU, Ring Me Up!

Did somebody call for a hero!? I had an idea for DC Crossover with The Loud House, and I was hoping to share it with everyone. Has anyone heard of the H-Dial? Not to worry for those who haven't, as I will explain! The H-Dial, also called the Hero Dial, is a device that allows someone to tap into a location known as the Hero-Verse, a dimension where every possible superhero that ever was, is, or will be, no matter how improbable, is connected. By dialing HERO, the wielder of the H-Dial can turn into any hero throughout the Multi-Verse! But it's totally random, so you can get either something totally amazing, or incredibly bizarre, and the second is far more likely unfortunately. Enter Lincoln Loud, a seemingly ordinary boy with a less than ordinary family who find the H-Dial. The version he finds is a bit different, as it is an experimental proof-of-concept with an unusual nature; rather than turn the wielder into a hero, it turns someone close to the wielder into one instead! To use it, Lincoln enters HERO into the Dial, and then presses a number. 1: The Determined, heroes with nothing special to them, with either very weak powers or none at all, they became heroes due to the hard work they put in and nothing less. The avatar of this number is Lori. 2: The Gentle, heroes whose greatest strength isn't their powers, but rather their compassion and connection with others, they will reach out to save anyone, even a villain. The avatar of this number is Leni. 3: The Gifted, heroes who were lost in life, without purpose or direction, until something or someone not only inspired them to be more, but gave them the ability to do it. The avatar of this number is Luna. 4: The Manic, heroes who don't always fit in to society, filled with boundless energy, and a though process that is absolutely unique. The avatar of this number is Luan. 5: The Mighty, heroes of strength and prowess, the ferocity within them can never be restrained, whether for good or ill, they invariably have powers that either let them hit, or be hit, harder and longer. The avatar of this number is Lynn. 6: The Tired, heroes who are not accepted by society, defined by the suffering they have endured, they constantly walk the border between the light and the dark. The avatar of this number is Lucy. 7: The Wild, heroes of nature, they aren't afraid to get rough and tumble, and thrive off of what most civilized folks struggle with. The avatar of this number is Lana. 8: The Elegent, heroes who have it all, grace, beauty, power, they constantly battle the temptation to do bad with all that they have, as beneath their beauty lies something twisted. The avatar of this number is Lola. 9: The Brilliant, heroes defined by their minds, who dedicated themselves to using their gifts not just to benefit mankind in the long-term, but the here-and-now as well. The avatar of this number is Lisa. 0: The Future, heroes who embody all the hopes and dreams of a brighter tomorrow, who have walked to the abyss and seen not horror, but unrealized potential and beauty. The avatar of this number is Lily. What do you all think? The above AU requires no hard knowledge of DC Comics, as the only element from DC is the H-Dial, one of the most obscure relics of power in all of DCU Publishing History!

The next AU is for Amphibia, and is what I like to call, Alone Together. Note: This is meant to be a Superhero Reconstruction AU, in which the idea is to breakdown the premise and uplifting notions of comic books heroes, and then build them back up. Here we GO!!! Also, the name of the AU is Gifted Calamities.

Long ago, the Outer Rulers were, well, bored. They had existed for so long, experienced so much, that they struggled to find anything to break the monotony of their immortal existence; it would not be wrong to say that they had been driven mad from boredom!! Yet, soon, they came across a world, just starting to fill with life, and thought of an idea. They had experienced so much, why not make something instead? Falling to the world, which had only just started developing its civilizations, they came upon its people, the humans. With mischief and intrigue within whatever counted for them as hearts, they blessed upon the simple race three gifts: Wisdom, Strength, and Heart. With the seeds of their entertainment planted, the Outer Rulers vanished, eager to see what fruits would bloom under the labor of their unknowing pawns.

As humanity found the Three Gifts, they were enthralled; with Wisdom, no knowledge was beyond their understanding, with Strength, no feat was too daring to accomplish, and with Heart, no soul was beyond salvation. But as with all power, there came those who coveted it for themselves and themselves alone; the Order of the Hungry Beast. This ancient brotherhood found the power as enthralling as their brethren, yet where the others saw beauty, they saw only their most depraved wants and whims come to life. With Wisdom, no scheme could fail, with Strength, no nation could not be conquered, and with Heart, no soul could not fall under their sway. As the Order grew in influence, they encroached upon the Gifts, drawing them deeper and deeper into their clutches. Yet, one day, a young nomad, gifted in the ways of Heart, came upon them in the dead of night, as they schemed to kill the village that held the Gifts and seize them for themselves. Horrified, the nomad, roared in alarm, her furious shriek rousing the village to action. Coming in droves, the humble village, tasked for all these years with guarding the Three Gifts, stormed outward, horrified to see that the members of the Order, those they called brother, sister, mother, father, son, and daughter, were plotting against them.

A great clash rocked the land as the Order of the Beast and the Villagers, headed by the young Nomad, battled to decide once and for all how the power of the Gifts would be used; would they be gifts of wonder, bringing humanity closer together, or gifts of strife, driving humanity against one another in eternal darkness? As more and more members of each side fell, the Nomad looked on in sorrow; for every one of the Order who were taken, three or more of the villagers were lost. It was a battle of attrition, one that they were losing! What could be done? Yet, over the din and cacophony of battle, the Nomad could here two fierce cheers; the young inventress, barred from the conflict due to a broken leg, and the chief guard’s apprentice, who volunteered to protect the children, both yelling to the heavens: “Don’t give up. You haven’t lost. You can still win. We believe you will win, so win!” As the Nomad, heard them cheer, her heart filling with joy and resolve, something... sparked. 

Just as the feeling came, it quelled at the sight of two soldiers from the Order rushed the cheering onlookers, hell-bent on silencing their voices that bolstered the hearts and resolve of the Villagers. As her heart filled with dread at the no doubt bloody sight to come, the Nomad reached out, screams of warning resting on her lips, only to fall silent as the two cheering onlookers sprung into action; the injured inventor pulled a peculiar apparatus, and launched a bolt of sharpened wood into the soldier nearest to her, and apprentice guard sprung into action, crashing down onto the hapless enemy with a fierce grin. Both turned to the Nomad, seemingly seeing her across the carnage and chaos of the battle field, and nodded. As the spark once more burned into her heart, the Nomad turned to the oncoming hoard of Soldiers and said this: “You may rage and struggle, lash out and torment with your cruelty and selfishness all you like. But you will never win. Not because we are stronger than you, that we are more than you, but because, unlike you, we have not forgotten the first Gift humanity ever had. The Gift of HOPE!” With a roar, hearts filled with the Hope burning through the Nomad’s cry, the Villagers, resolve honed into an unstoppable force, leapt into the final clash.

It was over. The Villagers had one. With the final rally of the Nomad, they pulled together the strength to break and scatter the cowardly Order. Yet, in the end, the victory was bitter-sweet. The Nomad, a kind stranger who none knew the name of, had fallen in battle, the corpse of the Order’s leader cooling beneath her. The apprentice guard, so full of life and fire that drew all into her orbit, died standing, guarding the door to the children held within, the corpses of all who tried to cross the threshold piled around her, unwavering in her duty even in her death. The inventor, heedless of her injuries, had lured a platoon that had broken into the Hold into her workshop, and collapsed it all around them, a defiant smile beaming across her face. As the Villagers took stock of the ones who had given so much for them, a noble stranger who could’ve left them to their fate, an absent-minded inventor who constantly worried the village with her studies sacrificed her prized inventions, that which she held more sacred than even her own life, to fell the enemy, and the young guard who went above and beyond her duty for those she loved, they knew what must be done. Taking the Three Gifts and the bodies of their three heroes, the Villagers committed all to fire, both to honor those who gave them their future, and to keep the Gifts from EVER falling into the hands of the Order and their selfish crusade. The Gifts were destroyed, the heroes bodies lost. All they had to do was pick up the pieces.

Thousands of years have passed, and a new era has dawned. The Gifts have returned, as has the order. The only question is: what happens now?

#the loud house #loud house au #Ring Me Up AU #lincoln loud #lori loud #leni loud #luna loud #luan loud #lynn loud jr #lucy loud #lana loud #lola loud #lisa loud #lily loud #superheroes #superpowers #super power au #amphibia #amphibia au #anne buchoy #marcy wu #sasha waybright #sashanne #marcanne #sasharcy #sashannarcy #Gifted Calamities AU #superhero #superpower

[advernia]

What do you think would happen if Alice had fallen into Cradle with her child? I’m particularly curious about Sirius and Luka OwO

in general i’d say the presence of the mother-child combination in cradle would (rather, should) raise the tension higher because two people from the land of reason = two people who can repel magic, yeehaw. i think that gives the magic tower more incentive to be aggressive point blank bc 1) two magic repellers = greater chances of world domination plans being thwarted, 2) on the other hand they will make excellent test subjects, 3) them being blood-related + different ages (and possibly genders) opens more avenues for varied forms of experimentation, and 4) more ways to enter the land of reason, hella rad.

there’s probably more but morbid thoughts aside... here’s some general scenarios!

sirius:

he grew up having lotsa siblings + if you count the black army as the whole he’s raised a lot of brats lmao, so alice having a kid doesn’t faze him the slightest!

in the prologue where ray ends up catching alice, sirius ends up catching her kid instead. thinks the kid’s five years old or something. sirius is about to ask the child some basic questions, but the kid suddenly points to a running blanc so whoops. before the strange pair go rushing after blanc, kid says a thank you, mister! and that earns immediate brownie points because the! kid! called! me! mister! and sirius proceeds to make that veeeery clear to ray lol. maybe to fenrir and seth too, later.

so after all the prologue drama, alice & the kid formally introduce themselves as mother & child to the black army. there’s a few murmurs of reallys and awwws because tbh alice looked rather young to be a mother but oh well. it doesn’t change sirius’ welcoming and accommodating approach, though he keeps more tabs on the child because honestly...

a young child in the barracks... where there’s a stocked armory + shiny magic crystals... ridiculous brats - ehem, grown men prone to showing off + creating trouble... yeah. though it’s really not a hassle on sirius’ part to somewhat act like a babysitter, he gets to suffer being teased about nonsense like paternal instincts coming to life in full force lol!

though seriously speaking, he’s very careful not to ask / bring up the biggest subject of them all: alice’s husband (if there’s even one to speak of, ooh). on the kiddo’s side of course, it’s already hard enough that someone so young suddenly ends up in a strange place + gets their mother and themselves threatened by a whole goddamn army (sirius, to lancelot: i stg what are u doing???) + has to live out a whole month in a new environment all of a sudden, so he believes the least that he & the black army can do is keep the child comfortable enough so that the feeling of fear would be lessened, get a sense of comfort going on. sirius definitely can’t blame the kiddo if they start crying out for their father/home though - though he knows it’s not his fault + can’t do anything much, he’ll feel bad about the fact that he can’t do much for the child’s homesickness.

he’s not going to broach the topic on alice either - if alice wanted to talk, then he’d do his best to listen. if she didn’t then he wouldn’t dare ask, it’s a very personal topic after all. who was he to pry into her personal matters when she + her child would be leaving in a month???

so picture this: he did say he’ll help watching over the kid, but there’s not much to do bc her child is good enough. what a little angel, polite and curious and quiet. maybe a little too quiet, withdrawn??? hmmm. either way, the child didn’t seem too (pro)active. or was playful the term sirius was looking for?

like sure, there’s the loud laughs for stupid antics, answers when talked to, smiles and walks around the barracks on their own but... more often than not, the child keeps close to alice or is just around her general line of sight. separation anxiety, maybe??? that’s natural, so okay. or maybe it’s alice who’s always hovering around her child??? either way, there’s nothing odd about that, but upon longer observation...

the kid is just... really responsible / really loves their mom??? alice watering the plants??? quickly looks for another watering can / gets a bucket of water to refill the can with. general cleaning or laundry??? puts a hold on whatever they were doing, rolls up sleeves, gets ready to do some work. prep work for dinner??? peeling’s a bit wonky, but they’re doing their best while trying not to cut themselves...

this strikes off as a bit funny to sirius, because wow, they really are related. where alice is quick to offer her help on all sorts of tasks in the barracks, her child is just a step behind her, little hands willing to do some work. on some tasks, alice does tell her kid that she’ll be alright doing it on her own, but her kid insists doing it alongside her anyway. and that there, that’s a very alice thing to do, too. sirius - heck, maybe the black army would know that by now as well, lol, considering how alice flutters around the barracks looking for something to do if she’s not having some alone time + private time with her child.

though, as much as the help was appreciated... it doesn’t sit well with sirius that the mother & child are spending most of their hours working rather than enjoying themselves in cradle. he thinks it’s a shame, especially for the kid. back when sirius was younger, he would...... then he’d go to....... and then sometimes he’d.............

.... right. if the guests wouldn’t relax themselves, then sirius would take it upon himself to show them a good time. it doesn’t have to be through big events, it doesn’t have to be everyday, it doesn’t need to be through fancy or expensive gifts either...... if only just to see both of them smile more often, then it’s definitely worth the time thinking about.

more bonus points if he’d get to see alice’s kid start acting like... well, a child! while there’s nothing wrong with being responsible or wanting to help, a kid should definitely experience all sorts of things, explore what they can, and most of all, enjoy themselves.

that’s what it means to be young, and alice should do the same as well... being in cradle is their adventure, after all! they’re not completely unrelated to the war but..... if anything else, sirius wants to fulfill the black army’s promise of precting them until the full moon comes around, and when that day comes.... he hopes the two have made a ton of good memories of their stay in cradle.

......... funny that this guy’s thinking about how make the two relax when he can’t even stop and do that for himself lmaooooo 

luka:

lol he starts off the same as he’s always been in most routes: shying away + nothing much to say to the parent/child combo now suddenly under their wing.

though, he does keep watch of their eating habits on the first days of their stay: alice eats anything + everything so that’s a relief, she’s adjusting. now if only he can say the same for her child....

imagine alice’s kid still being uncomfortable & cranky a few days in cradle + black army company, refuses to eat much even though his mom’s urging him to. breaks into a tantrum one day, saying that i wanna eat mama’s cooking instead! or something similar for everyone in the dining room to hear before storming out. ooh. there’s a brief silence - most stares land on luka, who isn’t really offended.

..... well, okay, so maybe it did sting a little bit. alice apologizes to luka before going away to calm her kid down. fenrir + ray tell him not to worry about it, seth + sirius muse about the kid feeling all homesick / sensitive. cue other soldiers saying something about puberty (whut lol). or y’know, kids being kids.

luka tries thinking about the kid’s situation for a bit. away from home, living in a whole new environment, surrounded by a whole lot of other people with attitudes and faces way different from those around at home... huh. that kinda sounds like himself in a way, except that the away from home bit on luka’s part was a voluntary choice.

having realized that, luka has a better guess of what the kid might be feeling. overwhelmed, definitely. from a very hostile welcome with handcuffs + the red army carrying the threat of death, suddenly being surrounded by the kindness of the black army is a total 360. must feel unreal, suspicious, even. the sight of real weapons around, the existence of magic and all that, unknowingly having a power so strong the whole country fears it. sounds like too much too process for a child.

..... alright, but looking at alice’s kid being unfriendly + clingy to alice 24/7 + being such a crybaby also reminds luka of... uh, himself, when he was younger. not to his own mother, but to... well, jonah, ugh. it’s not an easy pill to swallow (it takes grudging acceptance), but at least luka gets to know why he always felt some pang of irritation looking at the child.

so the next time the kid starts crying over something/causes trouble for alice, luka surprises everyone in the room by taking the initiative to scold the kid for acting so selfish. tough call, by the way - the child is wow, stubborn as hell + likes to keep the waterworks going while screaming; luka’s got a pretty good idea of what he wants to say but is having trouble getting it across properly and in a less menancing manner, so in short its a mess. witnesses ray blackwell + fenrir godspeed find the whole scene sorta funny though, much support lol.

alice wants to cut in, but sirius + seth tell her to leave it to luka, who seems to be winning since her kid’s running out of energy from crying & shouting at the same time. luka seems to be calming down too, because his tone + volume + facial expression is getting less stern. this seemed like a good time to mosey out of the scene so sirius ushers the audience to go away lmao, even the worried mother (who, decides to eavesdrop instead. no one has the heart to pull her away... so they hover around the doorway with her too.)

not arguing with luka anymore, the upset kid starts to babble of nightmares about the scary men in red with their sharp swords, not wanting to sleep because maybe when they close their eyes mama might suddenly be gone and they’re all alone, the scary feeling of losing mama to strangers, and the list goes on and on. its a collection of fears + worries of a child, and luka’s patient enough to listen. in fact, he smiles wryly when there’s mentions of monsters under the bed: it’s embarrasing, but luka used to cry over that too.

... seeing the kid bawl their eyes out like this, luka really is reminded of his younger self. the clinginess, sudden outbursts, the fear of maybe one day, they’ll be left behind and will be all alone. luka might be speculating the kid’s feelings, but more than anyone else, luka would be the closest one who could relate to what the kid was going through because.......... he acted that way towards jonah, back when they were younger.

he wonders if they’ve mentioned any of this to alice, even if just the smallest of their fears. he wonders how long they’ve been bothered over those fears, if they’ve been sleeping well at night. with all those questions in his mind, luka’s not so sure what to say; how to comfort the child.

he still tries though, even if his words come out a bit clumsy, even if the kid’s still sniffling all the way through the process. it’s a quiet moment, one that lasts till the child has cried themselves to sleep. they just stay that way for awhile, the kid resting their head on luka’s arm, until luka decides to carry the child back to their room........ alice must be worried.

..... she is, actually. when she and luka talk, she keeps quiet of her eavesdropping. luka doesn’t tell her everything either, because he believed that some of the things they talked about are better said by the kid themselves rather than him relaying the message to alice.

there’s nothing much to say after that, so luka goes on his way. alice says a very sincere thank you before he goes. she... has a lot of other things to say other than just that, but.... maybe another time. maybe when she’s plucked up the courage.

anyway, after all that alice’s kid seems to have gotten off their... spoiled phase, lol. still a little clingy to alice, but is getting less prickly + talking to others now. most notable development though, is if the child isn’t around their mother......... they could be seen hanging around luka.

.......... cue comments on how heartwarming it is to see a young child tottering around luka like a little duckling. luka does not appreciate the teasing. especially when it comes from seth + fenrir because why are their grins so big??????? but he doesn’t say anything against the kid following him around lol.

#askdfghjl #ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #sirius oswald #luka clemence #... honestly if alice had her child with her the first thing i thought was.... #family apPROVAL FIRST IKEMANS no route progression for u if there's none lol #lmaooo earn them kid brownie points before getting to the final boss bruhs

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 22

Tides of the Dark Crystal because Amri just got pulled into the water, perhaps by some manner of white whale but probably not.

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unite all the Gelfling against the Skeksis. They’ve succeeded with the Sifa at Cera-Na and the Dousan of the Wellspring but while they were avoiding ever going to Ha’rar, All-Maudra Mayrin was killed by the Skeksis. Her daughter Seladon has become the new All-Maudra and spoke out in favor of loyalty to the Skeksis. In Ha’rar, the protagonists run into Tae of the Sifa and regrouped with her. While they were supposed to be sleeping on the problem, Amri instead fell off a boat because he heard a sea monster.

Chapter 22

Amri meets a new friend, unless he doesn’t, and then has an epiphany after getting friendly with a city street

So Amri is not drowning for the second time in the book despite being in some deep water. The first time it was because Naia was there sharing oxygen with him. This second time he’s just not drowning for some reason. He ponders aloud if he’s dead.

The creature he saw in the water is swimming around him, not giving him a good look, but untangling the rope that Amri tangled himself in like an idiot.

Pretty friendly sea monster.

The water filled his mouth, but he didn’t drown. He turned when he saw movement, but the creature that circled him, long and streamlined, was always just out of sight. It swooped through the thick water, giving scant glimpses of its long tail and powerful limbs that propelled it through the water as easily as a bird in flight.

The sea monsters responds to Amri pondering mortality by telling him he’s not dead.

“Um... am I going to die?”

“That is a strange question.”

Stupendous.

The sea monster’s voice (and general unhelpful way of answering questions presumably) pricks at Amri’s memory.

“Are you a Mystic?” he asked.

“Hmm... I am pretty mystical.”

Which is what Amri had said about urLii to Kylan and Naia back in the previous book!

Amri has enough of the vagueness or wondering whether he is or isn’t dead and just goes “I’m gonna go” because the whole conversation is like this. The Mystic asks Amri to wait and finally swims into sight.

Amri recognizes the multi-limbed individual as definitely a Mystic and guesses that they’re also the water spirit who is reputed to light the coast side lanterns.

But when the Mystic swims closer, Amri realizes what really seemed familiar about them. The Mystic’s eyes remind Amri of skekSa’s.

“Are you skekSa’s opposite?” Amri gasped.

“Opposition is a falsehood. Like day and night -- convenient words, but only part of the truth. For there exists such a thing as dawn, and also dusk. All phases in the turning of the spheres. I am merely a swimmer of the seas.”

!

It’s she!

They don’t name names here but its urSan the Swimmer!

Because in the game of not quite opposites between the Skeksis and the Mystics, skekSa said ‘i’m going to sail on top of the water haha’ and urSan went ‘ok i’mma swim everywhere’ and jumped into the ocean.

I can’t get over how great a concept that is. Just a urRu swimming everywhere.

Mystics are so ponderous on land but urSan is zooming around underwater. Maybe their problem is that they’re meant for the water.

She apparently also knows magic that negates the coldness of the water or the need to breath which explains why Amri is definitely not dead.

Amri asks if the Swimmer is here to help the Vapra, somehow believing “in the past, the Mystics had come to their aid when they had needed it most.”

“You already know how to help the Vapra,” the swimmer said, echoing his intonation so it was like hearing his own voice bubbling back at him.

“So you’re not going to help.”

“A compass is nothing without a ship.”

“Then point me in the right direction!”

“I already have.”

Because, yeah, that’s about the average level of helpful the urRu tend to be.

I mean, it is helpful, in the sense of you eventually figure things out. And Amri tries.

He keeps trying to puzzle through while the Swimmer keeps offering vague answers.

Amri complains that he doesn’t know anything about the Vapra or their city and that the Swimmer should be speaking to Tavra.

“I am speaking to whom I should be speaking. To the Shadowling that brought a song from deep caves to an oasis lake. Tell m, what is the difference between the waves of the sea and the waves of the sand?”

and

“What is the difference between crystals of stone and crystals of water?”

“Crystals of water?” Amri asked. Then he remembered. “You mean ice?”

“Deatea. Fire. Deratea. Air. Kidakida. Water. Arugaru. Earth. Four words with one center sound. Four elements with one central heart. Water becomes steam. Is that not air? And then it burns. Is that not fire? Dawn becomes day becomes dusk becomes evening becomes night. Becomes dawn once again. Where does one end and the other begin? Is there such a thing?”

This would be great for my fantasy setting with the elementalism magic system.

Its good stuff. I’m not sure where its leading. The solutions in these books tend to surprise me because they’re pretty magical.

Amri still doesn’t get it either and is now so confused that he’s seriously considering that he is drowning.

“But I’m a Grottan,” he called desperately. “I don’t know anything about waves except that I’m scared of the ocean. I don’t know anything about the daylighter world except that I’m clumsy at walking in it!”

You’re not clumsy at walking. You’re clumsy wearing shoes.

That’s pretty inspirational actually.

Not helping the unreality Amri feels, bubbles obscure the Swimmer and then propel Amri to the surface where he suddenly wakes up and finds himself on the deck of Onica’s ship, being shaken awake by Naia. Not wet at all from a dip in the ocean but a bit damp from snow melting on him.

Uh. Huh. Weird.

Naia is touching him to make sure he’s okay and they have a mutual blushy moment about that.

They go inside and Naia makes him a nice hot cup of... uh, water. Do people just drink hot water? There’s so many herbs in this boat.

“I had the strangest dream,” he said. It tasted like a lie. It couldn’t have been a dream, could it? He stared at the bundle of herbs in the center of the table, cold and dormant in the clay bowl. He shook his head. “Must have been a dream.”

He tells Naia what he dreamed, trying to be quiet but waking up everyone anyway. It seems more and more dreamlike the longer he’s awake and he’s pretty sure that the herbs that Onica used to try to Far-Dream earlier gave him a weird vivid dream.

Silly of him to think a Far-Dreamer would say a dream is just a dream.

“Even if it was a dream, that doesn’t mean it’s not important,” Onica replied. “Do you have any idea what it means?”

Amri blushed. “You’re the Far-Dreamer. Aren’t you supposed to be the one that knows...” Even as he spoke, he thought of what the Mystic had said. Dawn to day to dusk. Being a Far-Dreamer didn’t mean it was her responsibility to know everything there was to know about dreams. Perhaps he had been putting too much stock in titles.

You already know how to help the Vapra.

And this time he does already knows, it seems, because he suddenly darts out into the night, dismissing Tae’s concerns about the Skeksis since they can’t see very well at night.

Naia catches up with him and Amri feels comforted by having her at his side.

Shiiiiiiip tease.

They hike together into the city in silence where Amri does a thing.

Amri leaned down and pulled and pulled the straps off his sandals. Naia stood by and watched, hand on the hilt of her dagger. Ready to protect him from anything, even as he did something she didn’t totally understand. He tried not to worry what Naia would think of him, acting like a Shadowling in the middle of the Gelfling capital. He couldn’t worry about it. He had to be who he was.

He tossed the sandals aside, letting his back curve to the shape he had tried to hard to straighten. Barefoot, he crouched on the frozen stone pathways, and for the first time, his fingers and toes tasted the street of Ha’rar.

I’m of mixed feelings about this.

A revelation that Amri should just be himself does fit. His super move has been letting Tavra take over his body so she can do what she does do. But they don’t really do that enough that you have to start worrying about Amri wishing he were another person.

There was that bit where Tavra told him he couldn’t rely on Grottan tricks.... uh, and then his Grottan tricks don’t come up so much. Oh, Amri. Why won’t they let you be the weird alchemy boy?

He has had repeat things about being unfamiliar with shoes and walking without crouching but he wasn’t doing that to fit in socially. He had to wear sandal shoes because walking so much was doing a number on his feet. He had to walk not crouched because that was messing with him adapting to walking with sandals.

And in fairness, he puts the sandals back on after this so he doesn’t freeze his feets while walking back. So, the practical benefits of wearing shoes are recognized.

So I don’t know about Amri hadding to be who he was but I’m glad that he is.

Anyway. Amri has ground sense. Talking to sand and talking to rocks. Now, thanks to the Swimmer, he has realized that water is a beautiful spectrum and he can talk to ice too.

He gets a good feel for the vibrations of Ha’rar. The whole thing.

From the street to the Vapra homes to the citadel, the ocean and the cold blue mountains. It was all connected, intertwined somehow. As if some perfect, pure mineral laced the entire city in a web of crystal, originating from a source high in the mountains that looked down on Ha’rar.

Amri actually presses his ear to the ground to hear even better. And he hears how the song of Ha’rar differs from the mineral of the Dousan Wellspring or the rocks of the Caves of Grot.

This was fluid, like the sea or the lakes or rivers. Clear and pristine. Diamond-hard, carrying the thousand sounds of the city from one end to the other.

It was crystal, but not of stone.

OF COURSE ITS SO OBVIOUS NOW

No, I lie, I’m still lost.

What did you learn, Amri?

It was so simple, now that he knew. Now that he’d listened.

Dangit. Just tell me.

But he doesn’t. Cruel, cruel POV protagonist. Withholding plot.

“We have to get Tavra and Kylan to the trees of the Waystar grove,” he said. “I know how to send a message to the Vapra of Ha’rar.”

Fine, I guess I’ll read another chapter of the book I was already reading!

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #tides of the dark crystal #liveblog #Amri #naia #urSan #the Swimmer #OR IS IT? #Onica #Tae

[thoughtfulfangirling]

I know I’m late to talking about West Side Story. For whatever reason, it just escaped me becoming familiar with it. I did know that it was a Romeo and Juliet adaptation of a sorts, but I didn’t realize how close it would more or less aim to be.

That being said, I like it as an adaptation! I think it’s a good lesson in how to do them honestly.

I will admit I was largely wary throughout. My memories of the Montagues and Capulets were that of two rich, prodigious families with an apparent pretty petty antagonism. I’ll admit there may be context I’m unaware of, but this is the situation as I’m aware of it. West Side Story on the other hand has vastly different opposing factions. You have the white kids who apparently have more or less found their places in life to be unfortunate in a series of individual life unfairness. And then you have the Puerto Ricans who are dealing with systemic disenfranchisement. On the surface it may have seemed like a situational appropriate but small change, but the implications of these two very differently empowered groups changes the story quite significantly. It was hard to seriously root in any way for the Jets under this context. And it would have made it doubly difficult to make Maria, as a stock stand in for Juliet, not feel forced and unreal.

So the moment Maria says to Tony that he needs to stop the fighting between Jets and Sharks really pulled the threads of the adaptation together. In Romeo and Juliet, the two wed and Tybalt seeks Romeo out for having been at the party and the fight ensues. But in West Side Story, the two discussed running away together, but Maria couldn’t leave her community behind knowing she had any power to do anything and not doing it. Arguably, she might not even realize that Tony was anyone of any importance among the Jets, but she demands of him to do whatever was in his power to stop more harm from coming to her community.

Not only does this give more agency and power to the space Juliet/Maria occupies in the story — which I appreciate in an adaptation — but it acknowledges the important, contextual and cultural changes made. I don’t even need for the decision to write Maria making that demand to be a conscious effort of making the thread of the changed dynamics work more thematically and cohesively. It may have just been a choice made for her character, who’s family member involved is not a cousin but a brother. Who lives in a building wall to wall with the boys out there on the streets getting into fights with these angry emo kids who weren’t given the lot in life they feel they deserved. Juliet’s context is much different, so it doesn’t feel so egregious that she doesn’t effectively say the same for Romeo and that Romeo would come to a general conclusion himself of ‘try to heal the mend.’

But sometimes, it’s really that easy though. If one is not too caught up in clever play by plays with slight differences to put it in your world or prop up the characters you like, and you actually follow through on the characters involved, a lot of the larger stuff will pull together, because your characters should be impacted and effected and shaped by the world around them. I just think that’s really neat.

And just as a quick aside. Anita did no wrong and was absolutely good and correct. Tony’s group clearly could not have been trusted with Maria, and if he was still hanging out with them after all was said and done, I won’t be assed to blame her for keeping her safe, even if the impulse came from a pain of hurt and vengefulness which she’d be fair to have done.

#west side story #la de da #tf rambles #don't mind me #tf watches west side story #it was the 1961 version we watched if that makes any difference #I had to erase a whole section that wasn't quite thematic to the above #about how the jets are so unsympathetic as they literally watch systemic oppresion in action by the cop and completely refuse to wonder if #maybe they aren't the most downtrodden poor boys the world has ever known #like look I get that they get threatened for lotiering but please note how they get a whole musical number and no real consequences for #ignoring said threat that had no bite anyway #Also yeah everything about their treatment of Anita ummm yeah fuck those guys #I also appreciate avoiding the double suicide ngl

[sunshineandfangs]

Lust, Oleander, Violence, and Edelweiss

I had very much hoped to have more written, but work and uncooperative writing ability got in my way. That being said I wanted to give something to the lovely Luiza @itsnotacrimetoloveyou​. So I suppose consider this the short prologue. Happy Birthday!!!

PS The title was a struggle and I am such a nerd for making it what it is.

---

Her knuckles rapped against the solid oak of her father’s office door, its dark varnish and intricate woodwork a bit ostentatious in her humble - correct - opinion. There was a long pause, the faintest trace of voices silencing.

“Come in, daughter.”

She hid the slight sneering curl of her lips, nothing but a polite smile present as she stepped into the room. Perhaps, there was something to be said for her father’s ambition after all. For if her eyes did not deceive her, that was Don Mikaelson elegantly sprawled in one of the leather chairs, his bearing containing all the lethal grace of a predator.

Caroline pivoted, letting her hair shield her face for half a moment, as she closed the door with a near silent click. The deceptively innocent looks, short blonde curls and blue eyes, shockingly pink lips. Yes, he matched the rumors well. They said death was never crueler than when delivered by his angelic visage.

Well, good for him. 

Her chin was raised as she turned back around, taking a few steps closer.

“You wanted to see me, father?”

“Yes, my dear,” he said, his eyes barely shifting from his other guest, an odd expression on his face. “What say you, Don Mikaelson?”

Caroline felt when his gaze settled on her, though she refused to return his regard, her eyes staring at her father’s now silent form. A taste like poison settled on her tongue. Her suspicions were stirring and she did not like where they were leading.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the devilish tilt of his lips, felt his eyes still boring into her. Then he spoke. His tone light and lilting, lips curling around a British accent. Almost mocking.

“She’s certainly a lovely bird, William.” She wanted to cackle at the crease in her father’s brow. Her father was angry, she could feel it, offended by the slight against him. So, much for those ambitions, huh? Not even meriting a ‘Don Forbes’? Of course her schadenfreude shattered with his next words. “But please do enlighten me on why she’s worth such a generous trade agreement?”

“Caroline,” her father started, a bit of a bite in his voice, “is an ideal companion. Beautiful, intelligent. And her power’s subtle, perfect for swaying a room in your favor.”

She feared her teeth would break from the force with which she clenched them, poison and acid and bile boiling in her stomach.

Half her mind remained focused on the real threat in the room, aware of how he had gone still and calculating. The rest of her was too busy being infuriated beyond words, nearly beyond thought. She didn’t know what disgusted her more, the idea her father was such a piss poor negotiator in the presence of a more powerful Don and he was still trying to foist her off or that he just wanted to be rid of her that badly and didn’t care how desperate he seemed. 

Though it didn’t really matter did it? Either way, her own father - though he was that no longer, he was dead to her - was trying his utmost to fucking sell her like a whore.

Caroline inhaled a quiet breath, loosened her jaw, unclenched the ball of her fists that she hadn’t even noticed in her turmoil.

Don Mikaelson spoke before words could spit from her lips and she was almost grateful for the time it granted her to reign in her rage, temper it, hone it into a weapon she could wield rather than an uncontrolled explosion.

“I’m rather insulted that you believe me such a fool.”

Bill’s brow twitched again, an indignant light in his eyes as he opened his mouth to plead his case, but Don Mikaelson cut him off with a raised hand. “Enough. I don’t care for your excuses. I’ll take the girl for the night as payment for this waste of time. If she’s as useful as you promised then we’ll talk.”

Whatever parting words the two offered to each other was swallowed by the roaring in her ears. Somehow her emotions had flown right past fury and into shocked unreality. It took several mindless steps in the Don’s shadow for her brain to turn back on. And there were only two thoughts running through her head. 

One, William Forbes was a dead man walking. She didn’t care how long it took. 

And two, if Niklaus Mikaelson thought he could so much as put a finger on her without her consent, he could join Bill in Hell.

---

The car ride was silent, Caroline seething and plotting while the Don seemed to be ignoring her. Between courtesy and disregard, she would place her bets on the latter. Still, she didn’t doubt he spared a fraction of his attention to subtly observe her as she did him.

If only she could get away with gouging his pretty blue eyes out. Alas, only the stupid and the suicidal tangled with the Mikaelson Family. Especially alone with no allies to her name.

Caroline smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the blue silk of her dress, eyes flicking up to peer out the tinted windows as the town car rolled to a stop.

A breath rushed from her nose. 

They were off a public street, not even twenty minutes outside the city proper. For God’s sake they had just passed a school a block back, and yet that did not change the three stories of ironically white, gorgeous and ridiculous mansion which greeted her gaze. Eyes darting, she took in the wrought iron fence and what she could see of the grounds. Was that a fountain peaking through one of the manicured hedges?

Caroline swallowed a hysterical giggle.

Bill loved Valentino and stocking his wine cellar with Domaine Leroy. Don Mikaelson probably had a Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition suit as a showpiece.

The sound of her side door opening made her jolt, and she cursed herself as her gaze settled on the Don. The Don who had somehow already exited and made his way around to her side of the vehicle without her noticing a thing.

Beneath layers of ice, Caroline felt the little flickers of his amusement.

She bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood. Refused to let her hand shake as she placed it in his. Refused to flinch away from the heat of his guiding hand at her back.

His foyer was as opulent as the exterior promised. All marble flooring and intricate wall carvings. The click of her heels seemed to echo in the large space as they continued on. Straight to the end of the hall. Right at the Rembrandt. Left at the Steinway. Straight again. Up a spiral staircase with golden ivy swirling down its banister.

Her shoulders did not jolt when a chuckle came from beside her. “I can practically hear the cogs turning in your pretty little head, love.”

She continued to look straight ahead. “Bill told you my name not even thirty minutes ago, is your memory that terrible?” 

“Not at all, he also mentioned intelligence did he not?”

There was nothing menacing in his tone, but she bit her tongue all the same. The taste of the bitter iron of her blood still lingering.

“My apologies, Don Mikaelson, I don’t enjoy pet names.”

The two of them stopped before a plain oak door, and she took the chance to peer at him from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t get a read on him, the little tendrils of his emotions once more tucked away. He led them inside in lieu of responding and near glided to his seat behind his desk. 

Two chairs sat perched in front of his monstrosity of a desk. Perfectly angled and placed within the space. She eyed them, coming to stand behind the one on the left, fingers curling along the wood and leather of its backrest. 

Her gaze returned to the Don, ignoring the slight arch of his eyebrow, the return of the little flickers of amusement. Truly exactly what she wanted, to be found funny by a man such as Niklaus Mikaelson. And he still said nothing, glancing down to fiddle with a drawer.

Though his eyes remained on her as he set the silver wrist cuff he had retrieved on the desk. It would have been plain if not for the shimmer of  encrusted orange crystals. Crystals so fine they were practically dust.

Her index finger shifted a few degrees as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Those gems were imperial topaz. They had to be. And if her eyes were not mistaken, and she highly doubted she was, the metal, bright and flawless, was platinum not silver.

“I’ll give you a choice,” He said, eyes still not straying from hers, voice level as if his words weren’t dripping in irony. “You can wear this and be my guest for the night or you can refuse and enjoy the hospitality of my dungeons instead.”

There were no mirrors in the room, but had there been one Caroline was sure she would look sickly. Pale and stricken. Choice? This was no choice. Not when just looking at that awful, damning piece of jewelry made her insides freeze.

She gritted her teeth, nails marring leather. Color rushed back into her cheeks. She wanted to hit him. Hurt him until he bled.

A breath. 

Her fingers released their death grip on the chair and her cheeks cracked under the strain of her icy smile.

“I’ll take the dungeon, thanks.”

#Klaroline #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #Klaroline Edits #Klaroline Photosets #Klaroline Aesthetics #My Writing #My Edits #HAPPY BIRTHDAY

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.3.3 “Four For Four”

Hugo introduces the chapter by going over the many changes that have happened in Paris since 1817. However, I think it’s kind of an unintentional “the more things change, the more they stay the same” moment when he talks about all these changes, and then a few paragraphs later mentions M. Delincourt and M. Blondeau, law professors at the school whom Bossuet and Marius are still taking courses from 15 years later.

It also feels like a “pay attention” moment here in terms of Hugo talking to the reader. He’s describing these changes that have happened between 1817 and 1862, and yet it’s a moment for the reader to take stock of what has changed in the world between then and the present in which they’re reading, and also what is still the same. Technology is drastically different, social standards are drastically different, and yet you will still find eight friends running around on a weekend having fun, and you will still find a person who falls in love with someone who uses her, and you will still find women who are happy with quick-and-dirty flings, and others who get screwed over by the men in their lives. Technology is ever-changing and constantly advancing, but certain aspects of humanity and human interaction are universal.

In all this discussion of joy and fun, Hugo specifically references Edme-Samuel Castaing, a doctor who in 1822 murdered one close family friend and attempted to murder his brother, in order to gain their fortune. Kind of dark for such a happy occasion. Each chapter leading up to the climax of the dinner seems to have a reference or two that’s just slightly sinister or strange, in the middle of all the happiness.

This chapter really tries to put you in the shoes of the grisettes, with all it’s direct discourse to the reader as well as its beautiful and detailed descriptions of all the places they go and things they do on their outing and how much fun they’re having. The reader is set up for just as intense a disappointment as Fantine here.

Hugo also describes the poet Jean-Pierre-Jacques-August de Labouisse-Rochefort (guy’s got a Tikki Tikki Tembo-level name) walking past them and comparing them to the three Graces, but noting that there’s one too many. Again, this feels like a separation of Fantine from the others. She’s not supposed to be there, not supposed to be in this situation, because she’s not like the other grisettes and perhaps isn’t treating this outing in the same way that the other three girls are.

What are the “keepsakes” Hugo mentions here? I know about Victorian memorial jewelry for mourning or hair-based jewelry and art to commemorate certain occasions, but this seems more romance-based and google is giving me nothing.

Tholomyes is in control here, and everyone knows it, even though Favourite is leading the group. It seems implied that he’s kind of been the one calling the shots the entire time this group has known each other. He’s pretty much a walking display of up-to-date fashion and wealth here. I’m not sure if the “nothing being sacred to him, he smoked” line is in reference to some sort of specific smoking etiquette of the time, or simply just idea that instead of frolicking with the others, he’s hanging back on his own and puffing on this cigar for his own singular pleasure. Either way, giving off pretty big “look at me I’m cool and idgaf” douchebaggery vibes here.

We see Fantine happy! Hugo also draws more attention to her teeth and hair, even having her hold her hat instead of wearing it. Maybe I’m wrong, or maybe working women had different fashions, but my conception of early 1800s hairstyles is fairly pin-heavy updos, so it seems like Fantine’s flyaway hair is just another symbol of her childlike-ness or naivety, especially paired with the description of her “babbling” in the next sentence. Her clothes are also described as being much more conservative than her friends. Altogether the picture of innocent, modest youth.

Erigone is the origin of the constellation Virgo. (Sidenote: trying to look up images of actual ancient Greek masks in the dumpster fire of 2020 is ridiculous.) I couldn’t find any mask references, but there are plenty of Erigone paintings from the late 18th and early 19th century. She also apparently featured in pastoral poetry quite often, so the use of her image here makes sense.

Hugo references Galatea earlier in his description of Fantine, and then again when he says “you could imagine underneath this dress and these ribbons a statue, and inside this statue a soul.” Hugo seems to imply less that she is a sort of Galatea-esque figure, and more that she is like Galatea in that she has a potential inside her that is as yet unrealized. And unfortunately it will remain unrealized, at least until she dies and becomes this symbolic, religious sort of spirit venerated by Valjean.

“A gaiety tempered with dreaminess.” Fantine is so head-in-the-clouds so much of the time. She seems to operate on a slightly different level from everybody else. Somebody mentioned a headcanon of her being autistic? That certainly seems to scan for a lot of this. (I also love it and hate it at the same time. More autistic main characters please! But also less tragic autistic main characters please!)

Hugo is very not subtle about Fantine being a symbol for Innocent And Pure Woman here. He really goes all out when describing her as this working girl who has all this ideal beauty and grace and modesty.

He also really wants to hammer home how important her modesty is specifically. I feel like there are some interesting implications here. Fantine at this point seems to be having as much sex as the other grisettes in her cohort. She gets to be modest and pure despite her sexual activity, while the other grisettes do not. Obviously we don’t really know much about the other girls, so maybe they also have children, but it seems like Fantine may be the only one. So despite the child out of wedlock and the sexual activity, Fantine gets to be pure and modest in personality, in dress, and in symbolism, while her friends are not. Partly I think this is, as Hugo said in the last chapter, an aspect of the powers of Love and how Fantine’s capacity to love so completely makes her different. But what does that say about the other grisettes, who don’t have that passionate and loyal love, and yet are still negatively affected by society or poverty? I mean, I get what Hugo is doing, making Fantine extremely sympathetic, but also making her this pure and modest woman instead of just a regular working girl like her friends seems to imply a betterness? Or at least a Reason for her goodness, while perhaps that reason wouldn’t exist had she been a grisette who acted like the rest of her friends do.

“Love is a fault; be it so. Fantine was innocence floating upon the surface of this fault.” The reason for Fantine’s wisdom is her capacity to love. It’s also her downfall. Because she loves without pretense, without experience, she is ruined. This makes me feel like her “wisdom” isn’t necessarily an intrinsic knowledge of any kind, it’s more like this unhindered ability to love despite the world’s cruelty? Every other main character starts out with a lack of love and then slowly discovers the ability to love (and also to be loved). Fantine starts out with not only the ability to love, but the ability to love completely. She gets screwed over by Tholomyes, and she does harden a little bit, but she never loves Cosette any less. Compare this to the Thenardiers and their children, or Magnon and her children. Fantine’s unique wisdom is that her love does not diminish the more hardship she encounters or the more miserable she becomes.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #les mis #les mis meta #is it 5am? am i bad at finishing things NOT at stupid hours of the morning? however did I finish 4 collages for my Les Mis collage project? #yes to all of the above #lm 1.3.3