#Dog Food Center

[stromer]

so blissfully unaware of the ongoing dumpster fire in his locker room, the two star forwards on his team would literally commit vehicular manslaughter against each other given the opportunity, and he's hearing concepts of rumblings and going into post-games talking about how quinn hughes is so cool and awesome instead

[seniouesbabes]

Lily Maymac 🌸💋🍒🌸 I'm here for the hotdogs Brooklyn, New York

[ishgard]

.

[reasonsforhope]

"In Sacramento, California, an estimated 6,615 people are experiencing homelessness, a number that — while still heartbreakingly high — has declined 29% since 2023, according to the latest Point In Time counts. 

But a new project, which has been in the works since 2022, might bring that number down even lower.

A new 13-acre property purchased by Sacramento County will soon be home to the Watt Service Center and Safe Stay. 

The county broke ground on the mixed-use service center this week, which will provide shelter, emergency respite, safe parking, health services, and more to community members who are unsheltered — meaning they don’t have a place to safely sleep at night.

“We wanted to do something that is not only larger, but a large-scale campus to provide more than just the shelter,” Janna Haynes, of the county’s Department of Homeless Services and Housing, told KCRA3 News.

The Watt Service Center will have amenities to help meet the needs of anyone staying there, including bathrooms, showers, laundry, and food, as well as mental health, treatment, and employment services.

“You can also meet with your case manager, get behavior health services, look for a job, get rehousing services, a place for your dog,” Jaynes added. “It’s really everything you need, not only for your day-to-day life, but to hopefully end your homelessness.”

While the center is a costly offering, the city explained that it is ultimately less expensive than allowing the homelessness crisis to go unmitigated.

The land was purchased for $22 million and will cost an estimated $42 million to construct the center. According to ABC10 News it will be mostly funded by the American Rescue Plan Act.

While the center will have the capacity to host 225 beds in Safe Stay cabins, 50-person capacity in Safe Parking, and 75-person capacity for emergency/weather respite beds, it will serve countless others outside of the 350 total people it can house at any given time.

According to a press release from the county, “conservative estimates” have found that over the course of 15 years, the center will serve 18,000 people.

In 2017, the city found that the average cost for an “unsheltered individual” was about $45,000 a year, considering public systems like county jail, shelters, behavioral health, and more.

With the projected impact of the shelter, that cost lowers to less than $3,600 per person.

“If you break down the funding, it’s actually not that expensive,” Rich Desmond, county supervisor for District 3, told ABC10.

“It’s a heck of a lot cheaper than letting someone stay out in the community, unsheltered where they are extremely expensive in terms of the emergency response from fire, our emergency rooms, our law enforcement response.”

Providing what the county calls “wraparound services” not only brings down costs but truly helps people meet their basic needs.

“The really great thing about this site in particular, that we don't have at any other shelters, is the sheer size and the ability to really wrap everything people need,” Emily Halcon, director of the Department of Homeless Services and Housing with Sacramento County, told ABC10. 

One notable feature is the center’s Safe Parking spaces, which are the first of their kind in the city. People living in their cars will now have a safe place to park, monitored by security.

“We know a lot of people who are unsheltered actually are living out of their cars,” Desmond said, “maybe a family that’s barely hanging on but they still need that vital transportation to get their kids to school or get to work.”

This support is especially helpful for those who are newly homeless, Halcon added, building on the amenities provided in the county’s two other “safe stay” facilities. 

While Sacramento County just broke ground on the Watt Service Center, officials say they hope to begin moving people into the facility in January 2026.

“Our staff is putting in extra time and attention to this campus, ensuring that it houses everything we need to end homelessness for people,” Desmond said in a statement.

Once it’s up and running, Jaynes told KCRA3, they plan to onboard formerly unhoused community members as part of the staff at the facility.

“When you have a conversation with someone who understands where you’ve been, and you see the success they’re having now,” Jaynes said, “it really does give you hope something could be different.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 24, 2025

[robertruder]

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[ii-zi]

I have to go to the doctor today bc i probably have an ear infection (left unattended for too long lol) but I also have to go beg the public medical center to sneak my file in n let me get an analysis before my appointment with the psychiatrist bc my sister will not be able to pay it and my parents cannot afford to pay me back the money they owe me lol

[emmyrosee]

“You know, my food is really good.”

“Good, didn’t ask.”

Sukuna doesnt take your bait as he continues to shovel his food into his mouth next to you, cheeks puffed out adorably while his brows are furrowed in focus. He’s always been a voracious beast when he eats, like a dog protective of its bowl.

Your food is… okay. It’s not seasoned enough, nor spicy enough to rave about, and it’s not cooked the way you’d assumed, and the only problem with all of this is that Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t like it. You didn’t believe him, you love plenty of food.

But his food looks delicious. Yours? Not so much.

You nudge him softly, earning you a glare, “you should really try it, I think you’ll like it.”

“Don’t need to, got mine,” he says, scowling before licking a bit of sauce off of his finger. Your mouth salivates at the juicy, roasted veggies in his chopsticks, and you look down dejectedly at yours.

You sigh and dig at your food, trying to form a bite that could potentially change this whole experience around, but the food looks unsightly to you, and you wince at the idea of taking another one.

You roll your shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for him. Then, you turn to him and innocently bat your lashes, “sukuna?”

“No.”

“Can I have a bite of yours?”

“I fucking knew it,” he snaps, light-knuckling his chopsticks. He turns to face you, venom in his eyes, “what did I tell you? Remind me. Enlighten me, please.”

You offer him a small smile and shrug, “I wanted to try it…”

“Yeah and look where it got you,” he snarls. “You hate your food, don’t you?” Now, you frown softly and nod. He grits his teeth and after a beat of silence, grabs the styrofoam container from in front of you, sliding it to himself. He then takes his own and passes it to you, seething the whole time.

Your heart flutters at the idea of him giving you his food, but you can’t fight the small bit of guilt that claws at you, and you look down at the new plate before looking back at him. “I love you.”

“Wouldn’t’ve fucking switched if I didn’t love you back,” he hisses, scooping up some of your former food into his chopsticks and working it into his mouth where he chews in thought. “This is fucking gross.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Here- take your food, I’ll eat at home-“

“Eat that, or I swear to everything unholy I’ll make you,” he warns, taking a wad of vegetables into his chopsticks to pile into his mouth. You nod and slowly start to eat, but at the flavor explosion in your mouth, you start to eat faster and faster, humming happily as your stomach gets fuller and fuller. Every now and again, when you turn to look at Sukuna to ensure he’s eating, he’s looking out of the corner of his eye before darting his gaze away to make sure you’re doing the same thing.

You hum happily and rest your head on his shoulder, the hustle and bustle of the food court being droned out as you focus on time with your man.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” you say happily, looping one of your arms through his bent elbow on the table. “I don’t care what people say about you.”

He shakes his head as he swallows his bite, “yeah yeah yeah, I’m the best. What can I say-“ he freezes.

He whips his head towards you, brows furrowed in the center of his forehead, “who the fuck is saying I’m not?”

You fall into a fit of giggles as he continues to look offended, and with your lunches almost complete, you can’t find it in yourself to get up and carry on with your day.

Not when you’re so content to stay like this with him, for as long as he’ll let you.

“You’re a nuisance, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[werecreature-addicted]

Have you ever written about an amnesiac werewolf? Like the reader finds a poor lost soul in the forest and takes them in, unknowingly dooming herself to becoming a breeding pet when the moon strikes and his instincts take over? He doesn't know what's come over him. He really doesn't. :'(

TW: car accidents. dubcon. do i know anything about hospitals? no. shhh. enjoy the werewolf porn.

You've grown quite attached to John Doe. He came in three days ago, he'd been "found" naked wandering a forest road at night and gotten cleaned out by a driver in a pickup truck. The driver said he thought he hit a dog or a deer that had wandered onto the road and was horrified to see a man there instead lying bloody on the asphalt.

Despite how bad John Doe looked when he was wheeled into your clinic, he'd been recovering quite nicely. He was even conscious now although he didn't seem to remember anything from before the accident. That coupled with the fact that he was found naked in the woods, it was proving difficult to contact any friends or family who might be able to give a concrete identity.

You weren't too worried though. It was a small community, and you were sure someone who knew him would turn up eventually. As for you, this was a slow time of year for a humble trauma center doctor, you were able to spend lots of time with your favorite amnesiac. It was a little miraculous really how well he was recovering everything but his memory. If you didn't know any better you'd say it was supernatural.

You found yourself spending more and more time with your John Doe, he was sweet and funny, Not to mention he was very attractive, even bloody and bruised. Although the budding warmth you felt for him was tainted slightly both by the fact that he was your patient and the nagging worry in the back of your head that this wasn't the real him. This could all be a false personality that he would lose once he got his memories back.

You'd already started toying with a daydream where once recovered John Doe would still come by to visit you. You shake your head and try to dispel those fantasies from your mind. You mentally chided yourself, you weren't a teenager with a crush you should be handling yourself more professionally than this. Still, your heart raced when he smiled at you.

In the end, it wasn't a friend or family member who revealed who John Doe really was, but it was the summer rain. You were just about to leave for the night when you started getting phone calls. A bad storm was coming in and soon it wouldn't be safe to drive on the largely dirt roads in this town, no one would be coming up to fill in the night shift. You could make it home safe if you left now. But that would mean abandoning your patient and you couldn't do that. So instead you just sighed and hunkered down preparing to wait out the storm inside the hospital.

John Doe was more than happy to have your company- he liked you better than any of the overnight team anyway, and over the past day he'd begun to feel strange. Not in pain just energized in a usual way. there was a tingling sensation just below his skin, he felt hungry but not for food. He couldn't really put a name to the strange pressure in his body, he only knew that it was growing and it made him want to keep you close.

You were in the break room when it happened. You were trying to figure something out for dinner which was hard with only vending machine options available when lightning strikes and the lights die. you hesitate, waiting for backup generators but only the red EXIT lights stay on, casting an eerie red glow to the room. You were just starting to pull open cabinets looking for a flashlight when you heard a loud crash and what sounded like an animal growl. Your heart stops and before you can think you're running toward the sound relying on muscle memory to navigate the darkened halls.

You freeze seeing the hulking form of a wolf over the tipped-over bed of John Doe. How the hell did a wolf get in here? And alone. Even panicked you know something isn't right. Wolves don't come this close to humans, they don't attack humans and they never ever do it alone. Then the wolf looks at you and stands on its hind legs and you realize it's not a wolf but a monster.

Your hands tremble, you should run- call the sheriff- search the lost and found for a gun and shoot the damn thing. But you can't bring yourself to run. The creature in front of you is awe-inspiring despite your fear, you're curious. Then the monster moves and the interest vanishes. Again your body moves before your brain can think you turn and run. You don't look behind as you run but you can hear the beast howl and the solid thud thud thud as it chases after you.

It's a small emergency room, you know there's nowhere to hide unless the werewolf can read and respect "staff only" signs. You feel a large clawed hand wrap around your waist your legs are still kicking trying to run as you're lifted in the air by the monster.

"You took such good care of me...now let me take care of you, sweet mate," the werewolf growls in your ear, turning you to face him, forcing you to look at his hulking monstrous form. You struggle futilely in his grasp he's strong and you can see his muscles bulge under his dark black fur. Lightning strikes again illuminating his sharp white teeth and his bright hungry eyes.

It takes you a moment to catch up to the fact that 1. The werewolf had spoken and 2. That he had promised to "take care of you". Before you can catch your breath let alone ask what that meant he's shoving you down onto the cold linoleum floor, shredding your pants with one clawed hand and the other he presses down hard on your back in between your shoulder blades keeping you pinned to the floor. You can feel his warm breath on your exposed skin as he huffs your scent. you can't see him but you know he's drooling. The attention makes you tremble, and then he pushes his thick rough tongue against your body and you moan. His tongue is thick and wet against your trembling cunt. He can't keep his hands to himself, his clawed hand wraps around your breast squeezing as he pulls you back against his hungry lapping mouth.

You can't keep your moans to yourself. The little cries of pleasure slip from your mouth only making the beast more aggressive as he eats you out. Eventually, you give up trying to even hold back the sounds or pretend that you aren't enjoying the ravishment.

It doesn't take much longer for you to cum, he doesn't pull away when you reach your peak. He pushes his tongue deep inside of you savoring the flavor of your cum and the fact that he had successfully pulled an orgasm from you just like he'd promised. His tail wags as he cleans you up, then you start getting wet again and he's not cleaning you up as much as he is eating you out again. His cock hangs heavy between his legs too big and thick for his erection to lift so it just throbs with need and drips thick beads of precum onto the clean floor.

He can't quite decide what he needs more, to jerk himself off or to keep both his hands on you. Eventually, his own ache can't be ignored and he starts to jerk himself off. it doesn't take long for him to cum the sweet flood of your cum just drives him insane. his knot swells pitifully as his semen splatters against your legs and ass dripping down to your pussy. two of his clawed fingers scoop up some of his spilled seed and push it inside of you.

"Next time I cum tonight it's going to be inside of you." It sounds like a threat, you can't wait.

[nityarawal]

3/23/23

Dear Courts-

This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith.

I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home at the "Freedom Farm," at 

59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza, CA in January.

I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. 

He said she fired him for no good reason. He was going to move in. 

So we hired Eddy Lyons - another kind handyman to investigate the trailer I was buying to tow to her farm in Sep. 

Eddy also still needs to be paid for that service! We both did this in good faith and spent a day in Pine Cove with the owner Oceana Cotton.

Eddy also witnessed this kind of abuse at Barbara Bradford's farm after her maintenance guy raped me! She stole most if my furniture and storage!

I was living at Kosh's airbnb in Pinyon at 69907 Averill Drive, Mountain Center, CA 92561 at the time. 

We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!)

I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time in life after 1000's of cleanses because of dozens of foul rentals & dirty hospitals/court violence!

Then I moved next door to Mary Schmitz's animal rescue Farm at:

62950 Pinyon Dr

Mountain Center CA 92561 

Moonrise Ranch ✨🐎🏕😊

To a dirty teepee she said was cleaned and 2 geckos crawled under stomach 1st night!

I cleaned her farm for months 24/7 (and it appeared deeply neglected for months.)

I told Mary we needed someone to tow trailer in October and she said her ex boyfriend Sean was going to steal it for himself! ): 

I asked her to advise him not to since she's a realtor and this was my verbal disclosure of my plan to buy it- because she said we could move it to her farm- and I only needed someone to tow it. 

I said it was mean and she drunkenly laughed it off. 

All her instruments were stolen too! (I have pictures of them so we can return them to rightful owners!)

She must be looting all her clients because she stole 3 guitars and all my roomful of assets since I took this job with Joan in January and won't let me go home! 

They also blocked me from water and home many times while I was at Elliots- locking me out late at night and in bad weather!

Oceana Cotton had promised to sell trailer to me or give it to Stevie and Joleen. 

Stevie now has cancer of dick & needs his home returned! (It was indeed stolen!)

Joan liked my handyman Eddy Lyons but fired him too for being friends with her "hated" tenants Carol & Keith and not obeying her "silencing" orders.

Finally, in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fathers home: Dan Elliot senior at:

61283 Chalet DR.

MOUNTAIN CENTER, CA

92561.

She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its illegal- cleaned needles up from whole property! I told him this condemned his house as a realtor, I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! 

He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded by siblings in court stressed out of his head ill. Feds were terrorizing him too and Kosh on late payments with drone trespassing.

So I cooked, cleaned, provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location to cops on brobes for months at her home & camping in snow.

I stayed one week at Dennis Sketchleys- a handyman that gave me a tick in my bed- when he slumlorded me from 54399 valleyview and tollgate/country club homes and beat me. I promised never to go on his property again but was desperate in snow! 

Then Dennis kicked me out after Mary's client Jessie was murdered at her airbnb tree house listing with Mike in Pine Cove. 

(I really need assets from Divorce Dissolution so I don't have to rent from ex-cons and field their abuse!)

Joan hired me to move to her Landers rescue with Glen; he's her 400 pound laborer that is ill from inhumane conditions- he can no longer walk- and rides machines around property hobbling to tend to animals.

There was no hot water or kitchen.

Joan offered me her "clean" Dome house. I got there after dark and took her word that it'd been cleaned for me. 

The bed was filthy and floors covered in dirt I saw in morning. 

Joan wanted me to take over Glen's job at her Lander's farm.

She said Glen was making: $400/mo at

$15/hour and she covered Phone payments, 2 days off, 25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses,

Checking on all cat & pippy Litters.

Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take

Manure to dumpster with Wheelbarrow.

She was marketing Earthen domes on camp websites. She said there was no

Kitchen which doesn't seem legal. 

I could see Glen wouldn't live long when I got there with such I'll health abd depression in substandard room even though he's my age! 

I worked for several days alongside them all training with him and encouraged Joan to keep him too. 

(He doesn't have anywhere to go and depends on his job and is very subservient and hard working despite Joan's demands. He nods as told to colleagues/tenants like obedient slave despite physical handicaps from her grossly neglected abd functionally obsolete animal shelters!)

Glen promised to put in hot water and a shower in a bathroom within a week since there was nowhere to clean up properly and it was very cold and windy. I was freaking out with no shower after 2 days of cleaning pig & horse / puppy/cat shit.

Joan asked me to come back to her Anz farm to work on contracts. 

She said I'd be doing the work exchange like Glen taking over his job. 

Joan gave me very detailed directions to her property. 

She said:

"10:30 a.m.

Come down mtn to Rancho Mirage

74 straight

10 west

Hwy 62

29 palms

Windmills

Yucca valley (call Joanne) 

Old women springs rd -Hwy 247- left (north)

20 miles to

Reche Rd. 

Curves to right - turn right

Pass

Landers post office - GPS

5-10 min away 

Left see Moose Lodge

Next White Building

Says Billfs Hall

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

1 block f/ end

About mile

Knox- ni-man - (right)

(Applegate way should say)

Pass abandoned house

Next property 

Will see 1 8th 1

(JOANS)

TELEPHONE POLE

58562

METAL EAGLE DANCER

CHURCH- JESUS SAVES

STORAGE"

So I think it's supposed to be:

58562 Applegate Way? 

Or Knox-ni-man? 

(Note: She failed to mention if it was Gibralter Ave or Dr. And they're side by side. How many have they tricked & trashed cars on tow? 

Please present my full letter!)

But the 2nd day I was there I came home one night from getting groceries and Must've passed Gibralter and took a second Gibralter on Left! 

Joan failed to mention there were two Gintralter roads parallel next to each other in my notes as you can see. 

So I end up at the end of this road with a deserted house in the sand. 

I looped around to see where I went wrong on directions and came back to dead end with abandoned house confused. 

I tried to circle out and got stuck in a sand driveway.

 I called Glen to get me and he said put car in reverse or neutral and slammed my car right into the back side of his truck! 

He promised his friend would fix it next day but failed to follow up. I've written them both many times!

I sent Joan the bill for over $3000 and she's shirking her responsibility to all employees that have worked for her.

She invited me back to Freedom Farm in Anza to shower and use her kitchen. 

She said everything was hers in refrigerator and insisted I help myself. 

She wanted to do the contract with me so I paid $40 to download a work exchange rental but she wouldnt sit down and focus on it for several days. She has added from parasites!

Her agenda was to wrongfully evict her tenants!

I told Joan I don't go to court or talk to police due to PTSD. 

She wanted me to go to the Courthouse with her to smear the tenants and I said I can't go to court. 

I asked her to drop me at a park or mall while I wait for her. 

She refused to drop me off and finally I had to get out at curb of Murietta Courthouse and wait for hours in the landfill across street. 

She had no sympathy for PTSD I have from domestic in-house terrorism of courts! 

Then she grilled me about my divorce and lack of settlements all day.

Since then I found out psychiatrist courts kidnapped me to Dr. Singh Was advertising my head for a Probate murder at Moreno Valley Hospital for Riverside Health. 

We feel Joan took bribes on all employee heads for court and is contentious.

Joan failed to sit and focus on contract all weekend because she was obsessed with wrongfully Evicting her tenants! 

I told her I can't Get involved- as my custody battle is priority of my life- and I don't have energy to deal with inhumane actions to people. 

For an animal rescue- we could all see she was being careless and cruel to all of us employees.

Joan told me her lawyer got ill visiting her and had to have his leg amputated when he was recently there and put me on a couch on the enclosed porch waiting room. She said Glen had slept there before me and didn't want me to open it into a bed. 

We feel Joan was intentionally spreading germ warfare. 

All the employees were traumatized by her lawyers diseased fate serving her and she never cleaned out his room. 

When I went into it I vomited and disease is rampant in her homes.

Joan instructed me to never speak to tenants Carol & Keith. 

She said she'd trained Glen just to nod at them. This is not my way but I was trying to be a loyal servant so followed orders. Carol & Keith were confused by my silence and scared having a stranger on property they weren't introduced to, so it put me in a uncomfortable, and compromised position.

One night I was in kitchen making tea and Joan called on speaker phone. 

Carol & Keith heard and were also in kitchen. 

Joan kept calling Carol "fatty" loudly on my phone and screaming other nasty names goading her on my speaker phone from Landers, meanwhile putting me in harms way with her upset and bullied tenants in THEIR kitchen! 

I also ate some potato salad and salami- because Joan said everything was hers- when in fact it was the tenants! That caused alot if drama! I paid Carol back $5 and decided to testify for her rather than Joan!

On Saturday- which was supposed to be my day off- Joan called and texted over a dozen times from morning to night about her tenant dispute harassing us. 

I told her I needed some rest from her drama. 

She wanted to call cops on tenants. 

I said if she needs to do that let me know- so I could leave.

 I have an extremely clean and prudent history despite many court contentious people like Joan trying to take bribes on head in ponzi scam against moms and lying in smear campaigns.

Joan knew I was just diagnosed with PTSD from officer rapes and foul play in September and I couldn't talk to them. 

She lied and said tenant called cops! 

Officer King came and tried to interrogate me and drag me in. 

I said I was just a guest- sat in my car- and refused his interrogation. 

Joan called and he wanted my phone to talk to her. 

I said "no" so he was pissed he had to use own phone and was rude to me rest of night. 

It was upsetting that Joan dragged me in anyways- and kept saying my name "Nitya" - which is very unusual and private. I texted her to never dox my location to a cop or my name again! 

I asked officer King for his card before he left and he was rude not to give it to me. 

I have sent videos of all the sarcastic, rude and nasty things he said to me to both Carol & Joan. 

It was extremely racist.

I told Joan I would leave if cops Terrorized us again and she led me to believe tenants had called- when it was her! She left a voice-mail confessing and then after lying about it.

Monday she wanted me to go to court with her again; I said "no" so she wanted me back in Landers and arranged for another laborer to come up. 

Monday morning I broke her rules -she said -by asking Carol for cops business card before I left. 

I also found out my x's atty died in a scuba diving accident last summer. 

It seemed preminiscious since I'd written a song about her called Barracuda Mamma. Sharkbait song unfolded that weekend and I was pleased with sequel I'd written and good news for my children's freedom from one atty in their pedophile sting.

I sent my new song to Joan and Carol as I was getting ready to drive to her Landers farm hours away.

Joan texted me to leave. 

It was very cold considering I'd worked 24/7 in slumming conditions for a week! She asked about my records and was looking to see if she could get me in trouble for court. 

I confessed dmv.org consulted with my ex husband and was withholding my registration even though IRS stole thousands of dollars of tax returns from 2016 divorce and also hired gay officer Enoch and Daniel Crabtree to steal my Lexus rental car on rape bribes from attys. I'd been caged by Dr. Singh 18 months of covid in shit filled rooms slumlorded out of over a dozen homes, all my assets stolen, and dmv refused to honor years where I couldn't even use Lexus Lemon while it was being serviced! Santa Monica Lexus dealership tried to steal my car while I was raped at hospitals and dmv.org refused to register it. I paid several hundred and they said that would suffice! 

They got several thousand from IRS yet they still fail to send registration sticker! Joan knew I was working for her to clean up that one thing from previous courts abuse!

I left within an hour when she said "bye," only to be greeted by officers Schmitt coming out of bushes hiding at gate. 

He cordially told me to have a good day.

 A block later Sheriff Curtis was coming down her dirt road and pulled me over. 

He said he was arresting me on registration and Cuffed and beat me into back of his car.

Carol said she was talking to officer Schmitt and he realized I lived and worked for Joan so came out and had Curtis release me. 

Curtis threatened to steal my car if he ever sees me again. 

Sargeant Protero raided my home and stole my phone & dog Blu I share with our handyman Eddy Lyons- in covid of 2020. 

Mountain Liquor say our Nazi Sheriff Brags about violence they've inflicted on me and say they wished they'd stolen my Lexus as well as my rental car when they had me raped with broken ribs in covid for 18 months of shit filled hospitals.

Mary Schmitz stole all my belongings from her boyfriend's dad's house where I was renting. 

We all feel both her and Joan doxed my location to have me murdered.

Joan wrote to say she was surprised I didn't go to jail! 

She asked me to wait all day while she sorted everything out. 

I sat in rain for 8+ hours- then she called to say she didn't want me back and laid her silencing trip on me.

I've been homeless since camping in snow. 

Mary Schmitz refuses to return assets and Joan just sends "cease & desist" messages to any reasonable communication.

We feel these animal rescues are a farce and they're actually abusing humans and animals.

I've seen 7 Dr's since with over 20 variants of parasites and bugs. 

Carol says Joan had covid and was taking parasite medication- but she failed to disclose Germ warfare! 

I need reimbursement on car damages, gas, health repercussions and a home for that week of hard work we all did. 

I need $50k in damages to cover unemployment for next year and would like to have my home back with tenants. 

We will bug bomb and disinfect it. Otherwise both her properties should be closed down and are condemned. 

We feel Joan has abused over 6 employees just since September spreading parasitic disease, gaslighting & abusive tactics; and she's not in her right mind to practice business. 

She never had a reasonable reason to fire all of us and it appears she's working for courts full time as a nazi soldier weaponizing motherhood. 

We feel 50k is a fair sum if she settles today so that we can heal at home in peace for remainder of year with kids & new puppies. 

Thankyou!

Blessings,

Nitya Rawal

Encinitasbeachhome.com

National Association of REALTORS 

Journalist @nityalakshmi108 - all docs and Grievances posted since September.

PS

More notes from Joan on Landers Job:

Ac

Porta potty

Joan Grandizio

Facebook 

3 or 4 hours a day

Dome house: 

Bigger Fridge

Table

Toaster oven ( which I bought at Anza Hardware & just returned- because I've been terrified Curtis & Nazi cops would steal my car & kill me with their hospital & court contentious bribed colleagues of atty Sharkbait circle!)

No water

Park in front of Dome

Walk

5 acres

2nd half sold

"Guanacasa" - Costarica

Transfer benefits to Costa

Start business 2-3 years

Buy a property that has a business

150k Ranchette 

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

[roman-roy-apologist]

YEAH. thank u nemi <33

roman being the one to always make offensive jokes and yet never making a single one about shiv’s weight gain until he finds out that it’s because she’s pregnant and not for other reasons, especially given the siblings’ history with disordered eating, is so characteristic of the way they care for each other, not by checking in and all the usual stuff but simply by never crossing a line. they always know when to stop and when they do accidentally cross that line, they always apologize or regret it. it also just ties in really beautifully with the complexity of the food motif in that season, shiv being the only one we actually see eating a few times, and again, roman never making a single comment.

[under-lore]

What could Sans find out about Flowey ?

By finishing a neutral route over and over again multiple times, Flowey has some unique dialogues in which he mentions various trivia or shares his thoughts on some of the other characters.

One such character is Sans, who Flowey notably gives us a warning about.

However, the way he words that warning feels a little intriguing :

While Sans is generally a very perceptive character who is often capable of making pretty good guesses from limited information, Flowey makes it rather obvious that he is speaking from experience rather than simply making a general comment about Sans' observation skills.

But a question that isn't brought up very often is, what was it exactly that Sans would frequently "find out" about Flowey to warrant this warning ? And how ?

While the question may seem unanswerable at first due to Flowey not giving us any specifics whatsoever, there are a few details scattered throughout the game which may allow us to deduce our way towards what was most likely the intended answer.

First, we know what solution Flowey ended up settling with in order to deal with whatever that issue was : Simply avoiding Sans.

In any given timeline, Flowey took the habit of avoiding to be seen by or around Sans at any point, unless he specifically had something in mind that required him to do so. (such as in the pacifist ending) As a general rule of thumb, he would avoid Sans altogether as much as possible.

However, even with that effort on Flowey's side, a quick mention of a talking flower from Papyrus is already enough to seemingly get Sans at least a little suspicious that something may be up with that.

This is our second clue : The fact that it took Sans so little information for him to get suspicious of what Papyrus told him about a flower.

Our last clue is the few words we hear from Sans after he sees and hears Flowey at the end of the pacifist route :

In order to find out what to make of those clues, we need to introduce a fourth element : Sans' scientific background.

Luckily, none of the more complicated or speculative nuances of that side of his character are required here, all that we need is to highlight his somewhat-hidden friendship with Alphys.

She knows him well enough to call his jokes in advance :

Or here, the game more obviously points out that these two seem surprisingly friendly.

Sans tries to play it off, but it is clear they know a lot more about each other than seems at first glance.

But how much exactly ?

Well...

To go back to our main point, if one were to call Papyrus' phone in front of Alphys' lab, the conversation between the skeletons brothers would eventually deviate towards the question of wether or not Alphys is hiding dogs inside of her lab.

To which Sans answers, winking :

If it had just been this one joke, it may have been a coincidence, but the game doubles down on this exact same implication if you call Papyrus from within the lab as well, showing that this connection between Sans and Endogeny was absolutely intentional :

While the determination experiments were sorely Alphys' entreprise, it appears that Sans was at least made aware of the way they ended up playing out.

We cannot affirm with certainty how much detail exactly Sans has regarding the experiments, but if he is aware for the dogs and possibly even involved in dealing with them (as he had the dog food bag in his room), then he most definitely would also know about the vessel too. It was the main goal, after all.

This vessel had a few particularities.

First, it was a golden flower, the flower from the outside world, chosen for symbolic reasons.

But second, that specific golden flower was chosen because it was different from the rest.

It was at the center of the garden, it had grown before all the others, those were the ones mentioned by Alphys in her entries. But there was one more specificity which she omitted to bring up :

Golden flowers in Undertale are a species of flowers which has 5 petals.

But our "vessel" had a mutation, resulting in an extra 6th petal.

A design choice in part, perhaps, but one that takes a very real in-world importance within this context.

Adding to this that, from the view of the current timeline iteration, the vessel seems to have suddenly vanished one day and...

Since it is likely for Sans to have been aware of all of this, now, it makes a lot of sense that the mere idea of a new mysterious talking flower that says strange things showing up out of nowhere would immediately put him on high alert. A potential connection with the missing vessel is easy to make.

Actually, now that we have this context, even Alphys seems to make the same connection as well after hearing Papyus mentioning a talking flower just before Flowey arrives.

But most of all, it now feels incredibly clear why Flowey needs to avoid being seen by Sans so much.

His entire appearance, and particularly his obvious extra 6th petal, are all dead giveaways of his origins.

Could Sans, who is skilled enough at analysing faces to tell the difference between the face of someone that has died 9 or 10 times in a row, really miss out on such blaring evidence ?

Of course not.

Flowey might as well have written "i am the vessel" on his face with a marker as far as Sans is concerned.

Chances are that merely seeing Flowey even once would be all it takes for Sans to be practically certain that Flowey must be the former vessel.

Not only that, but given that those experiments were all about determination, the so called "resolve to change fate", Flowey would also immediately be considered extremely likely to be the anomaly, too.

This is what we see in this scene :

Not only does Sans get to see Flowey here, but the speech that Flowey makes during this scene also provides him with definitive evidence that Flowey really was the "anomaly" he had been worried about, as his psychological profile matches extremely well with the one Sans shows us to have built for the anomaly in a genocide route. But, it also shows him that Flowey has, for now at least, lost his anomalous time powers to Frisk, and is thus struggling to keep them in his "game".

This suggests that for now, Frisk actually still has the advantage, and that despite all those crazy speeches, without his reset powers, that weirdo has got nothing on them.

But this is all later on in the story.

During Flowey's earlier RESETs, being seen by Sans, even once, quickly becomes a major pain for Flowey in every timeline iteration in which it happens.

At best, he might get "pranked accross time and space" a number of times. At worst, Flowey might have no choice but to reset and start all over again on whatever he was aiming to do.

Except this time around, without letting the smiley trashbag learn ANYTHING about him.

[loveemagicpeace]

🎈Jupiter & Your Spouse🎱

🎈Jupiter is the planet that indicates what characteristics your husband/wife will have. Which zodiac sign can it be and where can you meet the person.🎈

❤️‍🔥Jupiter in the 1st house - your spouse can be fiery, independent, intense, daring, fearless. Can have a lot of energy and can also invest a lot in things he is passionate about. It gives a lot to the appearance. A person's energy and expression can mean a lot to him. A spouse may like someone who is fearless or a risk-taker himself. Having Jupiter in the first house indicates that the right partner can help you discover your true self and bring out your best qualities. They expand your sense of self and can make you feel very self-assured. You can meet your spouse at an event, sporting event, competition or somewhere related to you. You can just when you go outside the comfort zone.

🤎Jupiter in 2nd house- your spouse can be stable, materialistic, stubborn, likes comfort, luxury, money. Can spends a lot on food, movies, music and above all enjoyment. Determined and fixed. Your partner will be vocal about their beliefs and seek a partner who shares their perspective. You can meet a spouse at the bank, at a concert, in the cinema, or at a hotel. You could also meet them out in public while indulging in your favorite things.

��� Jupiter in 3rd house - your spouse can be communicative, talkative, intelligent, quick to respond, rational, likes many different things and topics. Spouse can put a lot on communication and the mind. He could be younger than you. This gives you good and understanding partners, and they will support you in every phase. You also tend to attract overly complicated relationships that can cause you a headache. Jupiter in the third house shows you might fall in love with someone you grew up with, like a classmate from school, a neighbor, or a family friend. You can meet a spouse through siblings, relatives, at school, quizzes, social games, it can also be your neighbor, roommate.

⛵️Jupiter in 4th house- your spouse can be caring, compassionate, emotional, can help you and is always there for you. A person who values ​​privacy and likes to be at home or in the comfort zone. A person who gives a lot to family and home. Can be very protective and tough. Sometimes also capricious. You can meet them through your mother, close people, at a house party, in your home environment, somewhere near where you live, dinner party or out walking your dog or housewarming hosted by friends.

🎡Jupiter in the 5th house - your spouse can be proud, playful, strong, always carry an inner child, loud, fun, romantic. He gives a lot to hobbies, fun, socializing. He likes things that are light and pleasant. Can be warm, confident, determined, generous and also selfish. It indicates that your future spouse will be the center of attention, an outgoing person who is widely known. You can meet them at some activities, casino, can also be love at first sight, at the summer time, out on the town, whether dancing, singing karaoke, or exploring a new city with your friends.

🖼️Jupiter in the 6th house - your spouse is caring, takes care of health, can be a perfectionist, sees details, hardworking, organized, critical. It gives a lot to lifestyle and movement. He knows what he wants out of life. He might seem particular to some, but he's just the right brand of neurotic for you. You can meet them at work, in your everyday life (for example, in a store, pharmacy, physical exercises, fitness center), at the doctor's.

🧸Jupiter in the 7th house - your spouse is romantic, harmonious, fair, balanced. A spouse can give a lot of peace and attitude around him. The spouse can be harmonious, beautiful and like orderliness and beauty from the outside and from the inside. He knows how to see the beauty in everything. Marriage is important to him. You can meet them at a beauty competition, through friends, you can also through your ex, in court.

🦋Jupiter in the 8th house - your spouse can be intense, mysterious, deep, persistent, obsessive, self-sacrificing. Does everything for the people he loves. A spouse can give a lot on privacy, secrets, sharing things with another person. It may be important for them to share everything with you. You can meet them in the financial administration, deeper places, secret places, intimate places, can also be your psychologist or meet them there. You may meet them at a spiritual retreat, religious gathering, or group event where you can meet like-minded individuals.

🪂Jupiter in the 9th house - your spouse can be optimistic, happy, religious, even from another country, adventurous, open, direct, passionate. It can have a lot of life in it. Live in the moment and for the moment. A spouse can give a lot to education, novelty, innovation. Can always support you in everything you do. You can meet them on a trip, adventure parks, church, at someone's wedding, university, lecture.

🎱Jupiter in the 10th house - your spouse can be determined, strong, powerful, serious, responsible, older, more mature, hard-working. It can be someone who is recognizable and a public figure. Jupiter here make spouses more responsible and loving. They just aren't dominant or commanding by nature. On the flip side, no matter what transpires in their lives, these gentlemen will always encourage and believe in their spouses. You can meet them in a public place, public institutions, through parents, father or grandfather.

🪁Jupiter in the 11th house - your spouse is unique, different, dreamy. He always has a set goal and vision. A free person who gives a lot to independence. Can be a person who is sociable or can be a loner. Very smart and intelligent. Can also be famous on social networks. Different from the others. Someone who is smart and intelligent and know all about social media and can also be a logical person who think with logical mind. They may be your best friend. You can meet them through friends, social networks, lonely places, can also be in unpredictable way.

🛼Jupiter in the 12th house - your spouse can be spiritual, dreamy, emotional, compassionate, kind. A person who gives a lot to dreams and fantasy. A person who care for others. Can also be very artistic person. Here it is necessary to make sure that the person is not manipulative or addicted to drugs. The image of a person sometimes is not the way they present themselves at first. you can actually find out all of things about them later. So it's important that you get to know the person. You can meet them at a dance, art club, gallery, hospital, prison.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🫧🦋🛼

[heilos]

Living Harmony AU relevant character sheets/info: Harmony aka the "Tree of Harmony" Stygian Shadow Lock Starswirl the Bearded Somnambula is the next pillar up on the list with an updated design, courtesy of my buddy Ori, and a fresh character sheet from me. Her and Mistmane are the two pillars that ended up getting a species swap with their rewritten backstories for this AU. Bat ponies were super underutilized in the MLP G4 show and the idea of Somnambula and her town being mostly made up of Egyptian fruit bat ponies was super fun to think about. Listed below is some character and story context for these sketches provided by my myself and Ori like usual. Hope you enjoy!

Pillar of Aspiration

Bat pony from ancient Neighgypt

Comes from a village made up of mostly bat ponies with some of the other standard pony races sprinkled in and a healthy population of anubis style diamond dogs

Not a princess, but the equivalent of high nobility in her culture. Had cash to burn and was very generous in giving her wealth to the less fortunate in her village be it money, food, clothing etc...

Was also an advisor to the Pharaoh and Prince Hisan

Her village was trapped in a collective dream by a huge mythical Sphinx that hails from the dream realm. It would have turned Somnambula’s ponies into dreamless husks had she not broken free and solved the Sphinx’s riddles, which were the basis of its magic.

Somnambula’s artifact, the Sphinx’s Crescent Moon, is a trinket she stole straight from the Sphinx’s headpiece. Affixing it to her tiara, it allows her free travel between the dreaming and physical realms. Though, spending so much time in the Dream Realm as a mortal pony has its consequences…

Gained a weird aura about her after breaking the Sphinx’s spell. A small radius around her is folded into dream space, which makes it difficult to perceive her normally. She’s essentially a friendly cognitohazard. Take a good look, because you won’t be able to recall her face later. Lucid dreamers can see past this effect.

Has a somewhat eerie quality to her that she likes to play up. Dispenses philosophical queries just to mess with ponies such as: “Perhaps I am merely a fruit bat dreaming that she is a pony” or “Perhaps this is a dream, you don’t know!”

Has sharp teeth, but they’re meant for biting into fruits. Sometimes will joke about "gobbling" someone up if they get too close

Sleeps like a regular bat by hanging upside down. The bottom of bat pony hooves can grip many different surfaces for this purpose

Firmly believes in making your dreams into reality

Ancient Equestrians would call upon her name for protection in their dreams

Dream walked so Princess Luna could dream run

Somnambula is Luna's favorite pillar and legend

Is celebrated with a statue of her in the center of the town “Somnambula” in modern Equestria. However it incorrectly depicts her as a pegasus pony instead of a bat pony due to wibbly wobbly history record keeping and/or the strange dream like effect that surrounds her

Somnambula’s Weather Abjuration (The Crystalling Part 2 - 16:26) is a spell named after her, though she herself had no hoof in its creation. It’s very likely that this weather ward was made after the perception of Somnambula shifted into her being a pegasus

Somnambula redesign by Orin331

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter seven)

18+ 7k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, heavy dubcon, fingering, clothed/unclothed, dry humping. gif credit | fic directory | AO3

As promised, Homelander allows you an opportunity to say goodbye to the life you knew. After which, he does what he must to prove that you belong with—and to—him.

Days spent with Homelander are simultaneously long and yet strangely fluid, hours blending seamlessly into one another. Every day that he comes home, you endure the flip into what you’ve privately begun to refer to as “performance mode,” in which you’re playing the role of doting girlfriend.

So long as you maintain the idea that it’s a performance, you don’t have to think too much about how good the heat of his body feels against yours. You don’t have to question the ease with which you’ve taken to toying with his hair while the two of you watch television, or why you don’t mind it so much when he rests his head in your lap.

There was a day he came home early and caught you absently dancing in the living room while you tidied. That alone was embarrassing, but it was mundane enough of a thing to be brushed aside, to forget. Except that he wouldn’t. He’d fixated on it like a dog with a bone, and you’d had to endure his relentless teasing about it for the rest of the day.

“You act like you’ve never seen anyone dance before,” you’d said.

“I haven’t,” he said. “Not here.”

Your role here has many names: girlfriend, cook, therapist, maid, lover, and reinventor. It’s about more than just romance. It's a complete transformation of his empty, lonely world.

It’s what you must do to survive.

You learn quickly that he’s a creature of habit, favoring the same routine each day. He gets out of bed at the same time every day, showers for the same amount of time, and asks for the same breakfast that he does not eat. 

It drives you crazy to cook a breakfast only to find yourself emptying it into the garbage not an hour later, but the drastic and often unpredictable fluctuations in Homelander’s moods have made you reluctant to question or criticize him. 

Besides, what do you care if he eats your food? 

Caring is a creature with sharp teeth. It sinks its fangs into the deepest part of you and opens you up to deeper infection. Caring can hurt more than a punch, more than broken bones, more than anything that bleeds. Caring doesn’t break you clean. It’s a bone that doesn’t set, a cut that doesn’t close. Caring is to be vulnerable, to live as an open wound, and one thing you’re entirely certain of is that Homelander cannot be trusted with your vulnerability.

Yet you could not bring yourself to turn away from him. Not after he snapped at you, not after he screwed his eyes shut, not even as he began folding in on himself like a dying star readying to implode. Even though every primal instinct in you told you to run, your feet remained rooted.

You took him into your arms for the same reason you smother a flame rather than blow on it. In doing so, part of you has caught fire, embers continuing to burn.

The way he kissed you lingers on your lips like a ghost. His touches haunt every part of your tingling body, your fingertips numb with adrenaline as you pick up the containers from the coffee table. You can still feel the trail his hot mouth seared down your throat, branding your skin with the memory of his hunger.

He hadn’t embraced you so much as he’d clung to you, his hands testing every inch of the reality of you. He disappeared somewhere so deep in his own mind that it had shocked him stiff when you held him.

A panic attack…?

Strong hands settling on your hips break you out of your daze. Looking over your shoulder, you see Homelander’s smiling face. His eyes are bright and clear, his cheeks no longer streaked with tears. If you didn’t know better–know how easily and abruptly he can switch gears–you’d think you had hallucinated the entire thing.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, recognizing that expectant look on his face. Whatever he said, you didn’t hear it. “I was just thinking. What did you say?”

He huffs a little laugh. “Geeze, talk about a space cadet. C’mon, let’s get you airborne!”

Though your stomach flips, you nod.

I’ll take you flying again. You’ll be conscious this time around.

As soon as you have the containers of food safely tucked into a bag, he wastes no time scooping you up into his arms. The ease with which he lifts you is jarring; it’s less like being picked up by a person, and more like being strapped into a rollercoaster. There’s no sense of give in his strength, and all at once you’re shunted back to the memory of the night you were abducted.

It had felt the same way then, too. His arms coiled around you like steel, his chest a brick wall at your back. He’d held you then as gently as he holds you now. No matter how hard you thrashed, there was no give. 

No escape.

Your heart beats hard against your chest, apprehension tightening around your throat like a collar being pulled tight.

When will it stop feeling like this when he touches me?

The derangement of the thought strikes your addled mind belatedly. Never, you remind yourself. His touch should never evoke anything but the fear he’s earned 

A sudden rush of cool air from the door opening hits your face, the shift in pressure briefly paralyzing your lungs, halting your shallow breaths. You turn your face from it, nestling instead into the thick, textured fabric of his suit while you fight to catch your breath. 

Somewhere over the furious drumming of your heart, you hear him laugh, feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek.

He adjusts you higher up, bringing your face to the crook of his neck. You’re more secure in his grasp this way, and admittedly, you’re grateful for it. 

“Relax,” he purrs in your ear. “I won’t let you go.”

Yes, he’s made that abundantly clear.

In an effort to gain some modicum of control, you slip your fingers into the front of his suit collar, gripping the fabric tight. It’s stiffer than you expected it to be, but it at least serves as a good handhold that way. His pulse can be felt in his throat, the beat of it fluttering against the backs of your fingers. It’s quicker than you expected it to be.

You wonder what in the world he has to be nervous about.

“Just give me a warning before you take off, okay?” you ask, focusing on steadying your breathing.

“Before I take off?” 

There’s a particular playful lilt to his tone that makes you uneasy.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Can we pretend I did that thirty seconds ago?”

You rear back to look at him, and before you can think better of it, you turn to look down. Your vision tunnels, the edges of it blurring as your eyes fight to adjust to the sudden distance between you and the earth.

The reality of it sets in. It was one thing to understand his capacity for flight in theory, what it would be like to fly with him, but nothing could have prepared you for this. There’s nothing stabilizing you but him, the plummet below a nauseating hundred storey drop. Against your every wish, your stomach starts to churn violently. 

Tucking back against him, eyes screwed tightly shut, you mumble, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Homelander sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s really gonna ruin someone’s day down there.”

“Shhh’up,” you slur, white-knuckling his collar with one hand, the other clutching the bag of food to your chest. “I changed my mind, take me back, take me back. Can we please just take the elevator and drive? I really don’t want to–”

“Hey, hey, relax,” he coos, tilting backwards, bringing more of your weight against his body. The movement only makes you feel sicker. ”Closing your eyes only makes it worse. Y’gatta adjust.”

You shake your head and swear you can feel water sloshing back and forth in your skull. “Take me back, please take me back.”

Warm lips press against your forehead, his breath wafting over your scalp.

“It’ll pass,” he says with the certainty of experience. “It’s worth it. Trust me.”

Trust him? The audacity of the ask is enough to make you temporarily forget your peril and look up at him through narrowed glassy eyes. 

“Why in the world would I trust you?” you ask through your teeth, emboldened by your incredulity despite the way the tension in your body makes your muscles tremble faintly.

His grin doesn’t falter as he asks in turn, “What’s your alternative?”

Your lips part on an incredulous breath, disbelieving that he would be so blatant about it. 

In the three days you’ve spent with Homelander, there have been both ambiguous and unambiguous moments of cruelty. Moments where you were certain he was rubbing your captivity in your face, mocking you. 

Other times he seems so desperately lost you can almost understand the way he clings to you. Times where his cruelty comes not from an understanding of what will hurt you, but a complete inability to comprehend that you’re a living, breathing person with your own complicated innerworkings.  

“You’re unreal,” you say, mystified by the enigma he presents.

“And you’re flying,” he says in your same tone, those ocean blue eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.

You take in a breath to retort, but pause. Though your grip on his collar remains tight, you’re no longer shaking. For a moment there, you’d honestly forgotten where you were. Leaning against him like this, with more of your weight supported on his wrought iron frame, you don’t feel quite so much like you’re precariously dangling.

Though your heart is still racing, and your mouth's as dry as sand, you don’t feel immediately ready to eject your lunch anymore.

“Don’t look down this time,” he tells you, towards the horizon. “Look out.”

Hesitantly, you turn your head to follow his gaze.

The view is surreal.

The afternoon sky is a clear and vibrant blue that the maze of steel buildings below reflect, giving the entire city an oceanic hue. Hundreds upon hundreds of windows lit with warm lights dot the way like fireflies in a field.

In the distance, the sun has fallen low enough that it casts a golden glow across the water. It refracts the light in endless shimmering waves. The spectacle of it is enough to make you forget that this isn’t some fantastical world, that you live here.

Never could you have fathomed seeing the world like this with your own eyes.

“Fuck me,” you murmur, slightly dazed.

Homelander barks a laugh. “What, now?”

Ignoring him, you tentatively let your gaze drift lower. From this distance, all you can see of the lives below you are faint black dots, the flow of them reminiscent of an ant colony. The same loud bustling streets that you used to walk every day are silent from this vantage point, giving the city an uncharacteristic sense of calm. It’s the world–your world–as you’ve never seen it before. 

“See?” You feel the heat of the word against your temple as much as you hear it, his lips brushing along your hairline. “I told you it was worth it.”

You tear your attention from the cityscape and bring it back to Homelander.

While you’ve always distantly acknowledged that he’s attractive, he’s undeniably beautiful like this. Bathed in the glow of golden hour, his skin looks Midas touched, and the blue of his eyes is even more vibrant, the light giving them an almost crystalline appearance.

All over again you’re struck by the fact that, whether you want him or not, he’s inexplicably yours. Your captor, your roommate, your warden, your boyfriend, your gilded cage. You’re only where you are now–soaring above the city beyond the confines of that penthouse–because you found it in yourself to be all the things he wants you to be. The more you give, the more you get.

Play your part. Reap the reward.

This is survival.

“You were right. It’s beautiful,” you say, relinquishing your grip on his collar to instead slip your arm around his neck, leaning in to press your cheek to his in a make-shift embrace. You feel his surprise in the slight hitch of tension in his body before he relaxes back into you.

“Can I ask you something? Something about us. Or… about me, I guess,” you say, staring at the world from over his shoulder. Only now has your pulse begun to calm enough that you can properly hear yourself over the rush of your own blood.

His flag of a cape billows in the wind behind him as he flies languidly through the air, giving you something near to focus on. 

“Sure you can,” he says, feigning ease that doesn’t quite ring sincere.

He doesn’t like it when you ask too many questions, or start poking holes in the idyllic little fantasy you’ve been living for him.

“Why did you choose me?”

There’s a pause while he mulls over the question, the droning winds around you filling the empty space. Your stomach gives a small flip as he shifts, changing his flight path, making you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, said the wrong thing.

You draw back to meet his gaze, but his expression doesn’t betray any kind of upset.

“I’ll show you,” he says, the words punctuated by a wink, though the gesture doesn’t exude his usual self assured bravado. Based on the tension in his jaw, you get the sense he’s actually masking a buried nervousness.

Within minutes, you’re soaring over a part of the city you recognize with stark familiarity. Seeing your route to work from this angle has a surreal quality to it, like remembering a dream in vivid detail. It’s difficult to fathom that less than a week ago, this was your life.

Drifting to the ledge of a nearby building, he sits on the edge of it, adjusting you on his lap. While the height remains dizzying if you think too much about it, you can’t deny that the warm strength of his arms have given you a firm sense of security. 

“I used to come here a lot during my downtime. Between meetings and location work,” he explains, taking in a deep breath.

You do the same, cool air filling your lungs. It’s warm out, but the altitude brings in enough of a chill from the ocean to offset the late afternoon summer heat.

“I got familiar with this spot. The people, their routines,” he says, head lightly bobbing side to side.

“You saw me,” you fill in as understanding dawns.

“Yeah. I saw you,” he echoes, following the walkways below as if he’s tracing your path to work in the same way you are. “Every day.”

“You were really out here every day?” you ask with a lilt of surprise, looking at him. “I never saw you before.”

“People almost never do. You’d be surprised how rarely people ever look up.”

You hum quietly. Already you feel isolated from the world below. Nothing more than an observer. Knowing him as you do now, you can only imagine how outside of it all he really feels. 

“Do you ever… go down there? Not as Homelander, but just as yourself.”

“I am Homelander.”

“No, no, I know, but…” You falter, wanting to be delicate. “You were someone else first, weren’t you?”

His gaze turns distant, no longer focusing on the streets below.  “No.”

You think again of the young boy in the empty room holding back tears, and your heart grows heavy in your chest. That child–and the man he grew into–had to have had a name once, didn’t he? It’s unfathomable to think he didn’t. Homelander isn’t really a name. It’s a persona, a product patented and sold by Vought. 

To have a name is to exist in people’s minds and hearts as a whole person. Whether the name is a gift or a choice, there is soul in a name. More than just an identity, a name is a love language. Be it a given name, nicknames, pet names, to name something is to love it. 

Names begin in the heart, form on the tongue, become shaped by lips and cradled by voice. They're an intimacy not only of the body, but of the mind and soul.

Surely he has a name beyond the hero’s title of Homelander.

Project Odessa.

You take in a breath, the question poised on your tongue, but Homelander speaks first.

“I don’t remember when, but you started to stand out. Couldn’t take my eyes off you. I wanted to know more, so… I learned more. And I saw that you were lonely,” he says, but you’ve learned to read between the lines when he tells you things about yourself.

I was lonely.

“You needed someone.”

I needed someone.

“Someone to take care of.”

Someone to take care of me.

“I wanted to save you.”

I  wanted you to save me.

“And I did.”

He looks at you then, his expression difficult to parse. There’s a challenge in his gaze, as if he’s daring you to contradict him, but that defiance isn’t enough to cancel out the fragility that always seems to linger when he admits to any sort of genuine feeling.

“I saved you,” he reinforces, voice quieter, firmer.

Sitting hundreds of feet in the air, you’re reminded that this isn’t a normal conversation.

This is a matter of survival.

Play your part. Reap the reward.

“Thank you.”

The tight line of his lips relaxes, spreading into a smile. It radiates the same sort of satisfied pride that he always gets when you show him gratitude for all he’s done for you.

To me, you correct yourself, fighting to keep those lines from blurring. When you look at your life through his eyes, you cannot deny that it looks small. Inconsequential. Lonely. Sad.

None of that changes the fact that it was yours. That it is yours. That he had no right to take it from you when he had every opportunity to ask to be part of it.

The worst part is that, given the choice, you’re starting to feel like you would have said yes.

It’s a conflicted kind of relief when he closes his eyes and presses his lips lightly to yours. The heat of his mouth–the instant memory of his tongue, his teeth, his roaming hands–sends a hot rush through you, but unlike last time the kiss is fleeting and chaste.

“Aaaalrighty,” he says, his voice suddenly full of vigor and performative boom. It’s a wonder he doesn’t give himself a headache with how quickly he’s prone to switching gears. “Let’s get this grubhub goin’.” 

He pushes off of the ledge and your stomach lurches the way it would at the start of a rollercoaster, a drop followed by a sudden lift. Your arm tightens around his neck while his smile lingers, clearly pleased by the clinginess this has imposed on you.

You don’t have to tell him where to go. He knows exactly the alley to land in, sinking between buildings to the very back, as not to be observed by the bustling crowd below. You’d grown used to the noise of the crowds, but after several days of quiet, the clamor of New York is borderline deafening. It makes you wince and reflexively press on one ear, plugging it while you adjust.

Regardless of the noise, you feel an instant relief when your feet hit the ground. Homelander’s hands linger on your hip and your elbow, steadying you.

“Well?” he prompts. “You glad we flew?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” you say, huffing a quiet laugh. “I very much almost lost my lunch, but… yeah, I’ll admit it was worth it,” you say, checking on the containers of food packed away. 

You’d considered hiding some kind of message amidst the food, but it felt too risky. There was too good of a chance that Homelander would check, and if he did, you wouldn’t have made it this far at all.

For all you know, he did check. You’re still not certain if he really has x-ray vision, or if that’s an invention of Vought’s for the movies. Better safe than sorry.

Maybe you won’t need a hidden message. Maybe you’ll be able to get across to John, without saying a word, that something isn’t right.

“If you wait here, I’ll be–”

“What, I’m not allowed to meet your friends?” he interrupts, hands on his hips.

“Oh, uh.” You blink, holding his gaze uncertainly. “I didn’t… think you’d want to.”

Homelander waves his hand dismissively.

“If he’s important to you, he’s important to me,” he says, slipping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Besides, next to children, the unhoused are our most vulnerable population,” he says, sounding entirely too much like a politician with a list of talking points. “Anything could happen to him. I can keep a close eye on him for you, make sure he doesn’t get into any unnecessary trouble.”

His smile is too wide, too wolfish, and with a terrible chill you understand the words for the threat that they are.

If John causes problems for him, Homelander will remedy them.

Am I making a mistake?

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Okay… Sure.”

Despite how heavily Homelander’s words hang over your head, you very nearly take flight yourself with the swell relief that hits you when you see John sitting at the end corner of the alleyway, hands busy with a Rubik’s Cube. He’s an imposing looking man in his late thirties, bearded and tall, but he’s never made you feel unsafe. He’s kind, and most importantly, he’s familiar.

You take in a sharp breath of excitement, his name on the tip of your tongue, but a crimson leather clad hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into the shadow of the building. Homelander pins you back against him, one hand keeping you quiet while the other slips around your middle, locking you in place.

Did he change his mind, or was this all just a game from the start? Your wide eyes prickle with tears.

“Ground rules,” he says, voice low in your ear. “We’ve been together for a couple of weeks, but for your own safety, it’s been kept a secret. You quit your dead-end job and traveled to Europe with me, from which we’ve just recently returned. Got it?”

Huffing shallow little breaths from your nose, heart racing, you nod.

“If I see any funny business, I’ll break his neck.”

You close your eyes, every beat of your heart a painful jab. His voice has the same cool hollowness it did when he warned you not to lie to him. It’s him, and yet simultaneously sounds like an entirely different person.

“Nod if you understand.”

A beat, and then you nod.

“Good girl,” he says, his smile audible in his praise. His hand slips away from your mouth and he kisses your temple, straightening out your clothes. His arm slinks around your waist, hand settling heavily on your hip. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

Rattled, you rub the tears from your eyes and take in a steadying breath, trepidation replacing your excitement. Dread pools in your stomach, the tide of it rising with every step, but you still manage to smile once you’re in earshot of your friend.

“Hey, John,” you call gently, lifting a hand to wave when he meets your gaze.

John does a double take, glancing up once, then twice, recognition flipping to confusion, and then rounding back to delight. He smiles broadly from beneath his wiry beard, pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against.

“I’ll be damned,” he says as he approaches you. “You had me worried! I was beginning to think y–” he stops himself, belatedly noticing Homelander at your side. His eyes widen a fraction, and then his brows furrow.

In his myriad of expressions, you recognize yourself. That first night you woke up, how confused you were by where you were and who you were with. The whole thing felt like a dream, and John looks as though he’s wondering if this is one, too.

As a New Yorker, seeing Homelander–or any member of the Seven–in the flesh typically means one of two things: you’ve stumbled onto a promotional event, or trouble is close at hand. 

“Is everything alright?” he settles on asking, the priority of his concern for you instantly warming your chattering heart.

“More than alright,” Homelander answers when you take too long, flashing a winning smile. He gives your hip a squeeze, prompting you.

You clear your throat, lifting the bag off of your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yes, I’ve just–I’ve been away,” you say, already tripping over the lies catching in your throat. 

If I see any funny business, I’ll break his neck.

Thanks to you, John’s life rides on this conversation, and he has no clue. You kick yourself internally, desperate to get your shit together for both your sakes. 

“It was really impromptu, but, uhm, I didn’t want you to worry, and I have news, so I–” you flash Homelander a look, as if to say let me sell this, and he reluctantly withdraws his arm. “I asked Homelander if he’d come along, because I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me,” you say, forcing out a little laugh.

John hesitantly takes the bag when you offer it, but he’s looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, his eyes occasionally darting over to Homelander, who continues to stand akimbo behind you. “Believe you…?”

“That I’m dating Homelander,” you say, pulling your lips back in what you can only hope is a convincing smile, and not just a manic show of teeth.

“Oh,” he says, looking no less puzzled.

The whole situation is bizarre beyond words. That you would come to him, an acquaintance that you’ve known only through habit, through the quick conversations you’ve had in the transitional spaces between work and home, seems insane. That you would care that he knows or that he believes you’re dating New York’s premium hero.

Of course he won’t see that you’re a hostage. Why the hell would he? 

You feel out of your mind the same way you did sitting on that stupid couch, punching in website after website after website. It’s futile. You’re outside, you’re right in front of another person, someone who would be just as horrified as you are to know the truth, and yet you can’t say a damn thing.

This will always be true. Whether you’re standing in front of a stranger, an acquaintance, or your dearest loved ones, your truth will put them in danger.

All because of one lonely little boy.

Your smile holds firm, but your eyes well with tears.

“I quit my job,” you say, fighting back the sob threatening to choke you. “So I won’t see you anymore. But I, uhm–I just wanted to say goodbye. So, goodbye,” you say, moving to turn away before your emotions betray you any further, but John catches you by the shoulder, his touch light and painfully human. 

“Hey, you take care of yourself,” he says, looking to be shaking off the shellshock from what you’ve presented. “Y’always seem to be taking care of other people and their problems, so… Take care of you, too. If not for yourself, you’ll do that for me, yeah? For old time’s sake,” he says with a smile, giving the bag a little shake.

You stare at him, the confession of it all sitting heavily on the tip of your tongue. 

Help me! you want to shout. I can’t do this alone. I can’t take care of this myself. I need help. It’s too much. I’m scared.

You start to move towards him, and his opposite arm opens, as if ready to embrace you.

“Lucky for her,” Homelander interrupts, hoisting you suddenly into his arms and out of John’s reach, shattering any potential illusions. “She’s got me to take care of her now,” he says, his Hollywood smile stretched instead into a thin sneer.

“Great to meet’cha, pal,” he spits, voice devoid of any actual camaraderie. Tears burn in your eyes as his fingertips dig into you, his grip like a vice, like chains slipping back around your limbs. “Enjoy the food.”

Anything John might have said in response is swallowed up by the rush of air parting around him as Homelander shoots up into the sky, leaving your world in the dust, and any hope you had with it.

The flight back to the penthouse is quiet.

Homelander flies faster than he did on the way out, itching to be back within the safe, predictable confines of home. You’re tense in his hold, but both of your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face tucked in under his jaw, and he takes pleasure in that, at least.

It’s a miracle he didn’t rip that filthy fuckers arm off for the way he grabbed you, for the way he tried to pull you into his arms.

God damn pervert is what he is. 

You’re too naive to see it, but he isn’t, and there wasn’t a fucking chance he was going to let the guy cop one last feel before you were spirited away for good. The thought alone is enough to set his teeth on edge, to make him consider paying the son of a bitch a little visit anyways.

He grits his teeth.

No one touches his things.

It sets off something primal in him. A gnawing, feverish compulsion to claim you so thoroughly there could be no doubt that you’re his. He wants to fuck you, to mark you so obviously that no other man will ever touch you like that again.

By the time he lands on the concrete slab of his balcony, you’re shaking up a storm. He maneuvers inside without putting you down, as you’ve made no move to let go of him. 

Something isn’t right. 

He rubs your back, mimicking the patterns you make when you rub his, pausing when you suddenly make a choked noise that sounds suspiciously close to a sob.

What the hell? He did exactly what you asked him to. You’re supposed to be happy.

He carries you to his bed, a dozen versions of the two of you reflected back in the surrounding mirrors, and sets you down gently. Your arms slide loose from his neck and fall limply to your sides. Bending down, he cups either side of your face and brings your gaze up to meet his, perplexed to find your eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey,” he says softly, swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as it falls. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

You shut your eyes and make a sound he can’t make sense of, something between exasperation and agony. Though you try to pull out of his grip, he holds you in place, refusing to let you run from this. 

From him.

“No, no. Look at me. I did what you asked,” he says, impatience slowly wringing the gentleness from his voice.

Your eyes are red and glassy, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and over his thumbs. 

Christ. 

This is a far cry from what he had in mind when he thought earlier about how you’d make it up to him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, taking hold of his wrists. “I just want to go home.”

His expression falls, brows furrowed in confusion, dismay, anger.

“What’re you talking about? You are home. You’re happy here. You have everything, you–I’ve given you everything,” he says, though a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that isn’t true. 

He hasn’t given everything. Not yet. He’s been holding back. You both have, and now you’re both suffering.

Enough, he thinks. Hasn't he been deprived long enough?

Haven't you?

You try again to pull away, but this time he pulls you forward, pressing his lips to yours. You make a sound against his mouth that sounds like surprise, but all that matters now is the thrum of your skin against his.

“Doesn’t have to be like this,” he says between kisses, following you as you pull backwards, his knee hitting the bed as he crawls over top of you. He lets his hands roam, learning you in the way he’s been aching to since the day he decided that you would be his, and that he would be yours. 

“You have no idea how fucking good I can make you feel.”

Pleasure has always been his greatest comfort. The ability to shut down his brain, to quiet the voices and focus solely on the physical. He needs it, and now more than ever, he can see that you need it, too. 

He kisses your jaw, your cheek, kisses the wet streaks from your skin and licks the salt of them from his lips.

“I can make it go away,” he murmurs, undeterred by your hands pushing against his chest. You have a nasty habit of fighting what’s good for you. 

“I’ll make you happy if you’d just let me.”

Your clothes put up less resistance than you do, the designer material tearing with ease. He swallows up your gasp with another kiss, slips his tongue into your mouth and grazes your teeth with it, daring you to bite.

Your pulse thunders in his ears, but not even the acridity of the fear coursing through you can hide the sweet heat of arousal seeping from between your thighs.

His own body aches in kind, cock throbbing needily behind his cup. His mind has already started to fog, the sting of rejection soothed by the need he can feel building in every part of your body. 

You want him. You do. He can feel it in the drumming of every climbing throb he hears your body give.

“All this teasing, this tension, it can all end. We’re so close to what we both want now, what we both need.” His hand slips lower, forcing your legs apart enough to drag his middle finger over your cunt through the satiny fabric of your panties, savoring the way it makes you shudder.

“I don’t want this,” you say, hardly sounding convinced of it yourself.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me, ” he says, taking his hand away only to bite the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off with his teeth and tossing it aside. He moves it right back to your pussy, pressing in firmly to finally feel the hot, soaked patch of fabric against his bare skin. 

“Look who’s all wet.”

“Why are you doing this?” There’s a tremble running through your voice, through your body.

He huffs an incredulous little breath.

“I’m doing this for you. For us. I’m doing this because you don’t know how to let yourself be happy,” he says, drawing back to look at you. You’re beautiful like this. Eyes glassy and vibrant, skin hot under his touch. “All you have to do is let go, and I’ll make all the bad stuff go away.”

You don’t respond, but he knows by the look of you that he’s struck a chord. He kisses you again, and this time, you don’t try to turn away. Instead, both of your hands slip into his hair, and to his elation, you kiss him back.

He moans against your lips, shifting onto his side next to you so that he can better maneuver his hand, bringing his fingers up to slip them into your underwear, letting out a low sound for the feel of your velvety wet cunt under his bare fingers.

“Keep breathing,” he reminds you, acutely attuned to every inch of you, including when your breath catches. “That’s it… Good girl.”

The last thing he needs now is for you to pass out.

He kisses a trail down from your shoulder to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts before he kisses an apology into the soft skin, only to suck a mark at that same spot. He spreads your own slick from your cunt to your clit, massaging it between his middle and index finger.

You suck in a ragged breath, you whimper, and in that sound he knows he finally has you hook, line and sinker.

That’s when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above. You shudder, turning your head away as if ashamed, but he won’t let you hide from this.

“Ah, ah, none of that. No shame in this. It’s a tale as old as time, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his middle finger slowly into the silky clench of your pussy. 

“Boy meets girl… Girl falls for boy… Boy fucks her brains out,” he half laughs, half rasps, hooking his leg over yours both to pull your legs wider apart, and to give himself your thigh to grind against.

He angles his thumb to rub your clit while his finger crooks, stroking inside you until he finds that delicate, puffy little bundle of nerves he’s been taught to look for. More than just by the feel of it, he knows he’s found it when your hips jerk suddenly, and you look at him as though he’s just invented the spot.

“I told you,”  he rumbles, kissing you slow, wet, hungry, “that I would make you feel good.”

He adds another finger, fucking you with them slowly, his pace building gradually. He imagines how it’ll feel to have his cock where his fingers are, and he nearly comes in his pants at the thought alone, his hips jerking against you.

“Look at yourself,” he sighs, his other hand cupping the back of your neck. “Look at yourself,” he says again, harsher this time, and your eyes snap up to the mirror above you.

You’re a mess, clothes torn apart and splayed under and around you, hickeys forming where he’s abused your skin with his lips. You’re fucking yourself down on his hand entirely of your own accord now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in the sheets. Your tears have dried and there’s only sweet, mindless pleasure left in your eyes.

He’s never known a pain he couldn’t fuck away. He knew you’d be the same.

“So fucking perfect for me,” he coos, breath hitching on his own mounting pleasure. Your pussy squeezes his fingers, the lewd cacophony of pleasure filling the room the closer you get to the brink.

“Homelander,” you keen, voice fractured and sweet as sugar. 

He kisses his name from your lips, licks up the honied taste of it while he fucks you deeper, faster, his pace never once faltering, not even as you begin to thrash against him. He can’t tell if you’re trying to get closer or further, but he holds you tightly in place, gritting his teeth against the pleasure while he shamelessly humps your leg.

Your shallow breaths take on a pitchy sound as you writhe, as if part of you is still fighting him, fighting your pleasure, but in the end, it’s a battle you lose. Your cunt locks up like a vice around his fingers, your orgasm throbbing inside and out, your clit fluttering against his thumb.

You’re robbed of breath, of sound, and of sense as you come, capable of nothing more than a silent cry as pleasure–the pleasure he gave you–wracks your body.

He fucks you through it, relishing the way your quivering cunt squeezes his fingers, greedily pulling him back in on every thrust. It’s too much–you’re too much–and he loses himself to it, giving a ragged gasp as he comes shortly after. His eyes roll back, pulse after pulse of sweet pleasure filling his cup with liquid heat.

“I love you,” he gasps, nearly choking on the words, rocking against your still-trembling form. “I–fffuck, I love you, I love you so much.”

He’s languid but no less ravenous in the way he kisses your chest, your throat, your jaw, your mouth, all while his fingers rock lazily in and out of your cunt. Still coming down from his own high, he doesn’t stop until you’re grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand away, pleading your overstimulation with nothing but soft noises. 

He licks his fingers clean, intoxicated by the feel, taste and smell of you. A shiver runs through you, and it’s only then that he realizes he forgot to shut the balcony door behind him.

Too enraptured to move, to risk breaking the spell your bodies have cast over one another, he drapes his cape over your naked body, tucking you in against his chest.

Satisfied that he’s made his point, that you finally understand the gift he’s wanted to give you all along, he wraps both arms around you and nuzzles against the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crown.

While ending your first tryst sticky and wet in his pants wasn't his ideal scenario, he'll take it. The weight of you in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, more than makes up for it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, the words slurring together slightly. He strokes your back, holding you close as the tremors subside. He gladly takes credit for the way your breaths even out, for the way you sink into his arms, the resistance wrung from your muscles. 

All that’s left now is bliss. 

“That’s my girl.” And you are, without a shadow of a doubt, his.

( chapter eight )

[robertruder]

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