#HE PISSES ME OFF EVEN MORE IN THE THIRD RUN. IMPRESSIVE

[heavenbarnes]

Thinking of being Ghost's fiance and making invite the 141 over for dinner to finally meet them and he begrudgingly accepts because anything to make u happy and they're still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that he's engaged

mmm omg your mind 🫶🏼

finally getting older bf!simon to have the 141 around your dinner was the equivalent of pulling teeth.

come to think, pulling teeth would’ve been easier.

“well fuck me for wanting to meet the people the man i’m marrying spends 90% of his time with”

“sweet’art y’know i don’t like bringing work ‘ome”

then you’d gone and put your hands on your hips with just one (1) eyebrow raised-

and the lads were knocking at his fucking door.

“gidday- don’t fuckin’ start w’me”

“some bloody way to greet y’guests, big man”

as he corralled all their snide little remarks about “didnae know ye’ owned a nice shirt” everyone managed to find their best behaviour upon your appearance.

it might’ve had something to do with the stunned silence.

when he’d begrudgingly invited them, they’d all been in a little bit of shock- first of all, ghost had a fiancé? second of all, ghost is letting us into his home?

then it all round off with, third of all-

ghost’s fiancé was a fucking looker, that’s for sure.

sweet, nice, bloody easy on the eyes- how the hell had he managed that?

you were just happy to meet the closest things to friends that simon had.

price took lead by drawing you into a hug, thanking you for your hospitality. followed closely by a sweet talking gaz who was already making your cheeks warm with his manners.

naturally, johnny had to chime in with some stupid little-

“nae wonder L.t disnae want us knowing about ye’, i’d keep ye’ all t’maself too”

he’s too slow to avoid simon’s flat palm coming up the side of his head, but it doesn’t dissuade him much.

he’s peachy fucking keen to meet you.

simon eats his tea with a tense jaw, rolling his eyes every time someone makes you laugh a little too long, tells another ‘embarrassing’ story about him.

he also keeps his palm firmly on your knee, nervous twitch of a thumb running circles over your skin.

when you pop out to the kitchen to fix dessert, they’re on him like starved dogs.

“all this time and not so much as a bloody photo?”

“kinda’ photos i’m gettin’ aren’t f’you lots eyes”

johnny nearly falls out of his seat.

you can hear them whispering all the way from the kitchen, for a bunch of SAS guys- they’re not very subtle.

simon’s got one ear on the shit chatter coming from his team and the other on the kitchen, waiting for the slightest sign that he might be able to join you.

it comes- in the form of a gasp from you followed by “ow fuck”

simon’s out of his seat like a bullet.

“what’s wrong- what ‘ave y’done?”

you know the 141 are watching, doesn’t take a genius to see the way they’re all craning their necks around the kitchen doorframe.

“i’m fine, si- just a little burn from the pan”

“lemme’ see, gimme’ y’hand”

so the 141 see their ghost, unshakeable mountain of a man- a face they never see-

and they see his face, and they see genuine fear on it.

they see simon.

your simon.

“i’m telling you it’s fine, si”

“i’ll make that call, alright”

and they’re all looking at each other across the table, trying to decide whether to be impressed or even a little jealous- they’re leaning towards jealous.

so instead they settle on taking the absolute piss out of him.

not that he minds-

before you could even reach your chair he was pulling you into his lap- having you eat dessert perched on his thigh.

as you settle back into his chest, you could swear you feel him laugh.

that hand settles back on your knee again but there aren’t nervous circles anymore.

more like gentle squeezes.

your simon.

right at home.

[pankowcrumbs]

Cold War X Eddie Munson

MasterList

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

There are a few things in life that are constant: Hawkins will always be cursed, Steve Harrington will never stop running his hands through his hair like he's in a shampoo ad, and Eddie Munson will always find a way to piss me off within five minutes of entering a room.

Today was no exception.

We were all sprawled out at the Harrington house Steve had once again volunteered his painfully suburban living room for a movie night that quickly devolved into chaos. Nancy was perched next to him, her legs tucked under her. Robin had claimed the armchair and was currently nursing a Capri Sun with the intensity of a war general. And Eddie Munson local menace, self-proclaimed rock god, and my personal migraine was lounging across the carpet like he owned the place.

I was on the floor too, cross-legged with a bowl of popcorn that Eddie had already reached into twice without asking.

“Do you ever wash your hands?” I asked, slapping his wrist away the third time.

He grinned, a mouthful of popcorn crunching loudly. “Only when I need to impress someone.”

“So... never then.”

Nancy snorted. Robin muttered something about needing a bucket of bleach. Steve looked vaguely horrified.

“That’s funny,” Eddie said, licking salt from his fingers like a cretin, “coming from someone who dips their fries in ketchup and mayonnaise mixed together.”

I turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Satan.”

“You’re calling me Satan when you wear fingerless gloves in July?”

“Oh, here we go,” he muttered dramatically, throwing himself backwards onto the rug like a fainting Victorian lady. “Another attack from the Queen of Condescension.”

“Better than being the King of the Unwashed.”

Robin let out a loud “ohh!” as if she were on a playground.

Eddie sat up on his elbows and smirked at me like he was enjoying this which, to be fair, he probably was. Our friendship, if you could even call it that, was less “friendly” and more “a never-ending Cold War with occasional snacks.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice maddeningly calm, “you spend an awful lot of time looking at me for someone who claims to hate me.”

I laughed. Loudly. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. I’m looking past you. At the wall. Which is arguably more interesting.”

“The wall doesn’t bite back though,” he said with a wink.

Steve groaned. “Please stop flirting.”

“Who’s flirting?” I asked, offended.

“You are,” Robin said, sipping her drink. “It’s like watching two cats hiss at each other while holding hands.”

I scoffed. “We’re not holding hands.”

“Metaphorically, you are,” Nancy said kindly, as if she were explaining basic grammar to a child.

Eddie gave a smug little shrug. “Metaphorical or not, I’m still winning.”

“In what universe?”

He leaned forward, elbow on knee, eyes locked with mine. “This one. You’ve been playing games for months, sweetheart, but it’s a white flag, and you might as well start waving it right now.”

The room went still.

Robin let out a low whistle. Steve looked like he might actually slide under the sofa to escape the tension.

I raised my eyebrows slowly. “Oh, honey,” I said sweetly. “The only thing I’ll be waving is your decapitated head in front of your weeping uncle.”

Robin choked on her Capri Sun.

“Good Lord,” she muttered, dabbing at her shirt with a napkin.

Nancy was laughing. Steve had his hands over his face like he was trying to block out the visual.

Eddie, to his credit, looked equal parts horrified and impressed. “Bit dark,” he said, voice quieter.

I grinned. “What can I say? You bring out the poet in me.”

There was a beat. A charged, electric moment where we just looked at each other; Me, arms crossed and daring him to say something else, and him, clearly considering his options and wisely choosing silence.

Robin broke it first.

“I swear, if you two don’t kiss by the end of the month, I’m locking you in a cupboard like it’s some kind of cursed Narnia.”

Nancy nodded. “Honestly, I’ll help.”

Steve pointed at me. “You’re both just so loud about your feelings.”

“I don’t have feelings for him!” I snapped.

Eddie raised a brow. “You don’t?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Great! Me neither!”

“Perfect!”

“Fantastic!”

“Why are we yelling?” Steve asked helplessly.

It wasn’t always like this. I mean, yes, Eddie and I had always been… a lot. But it started as mutual annoyance. He was loud, obnoxious, always turning every conversation into a bit, like he couldn’t stand silence. I liked quiet. I liked order. I didn’t like him swaggering into our group like some rock ‘n’ roll tornado and rearranging all the furniture in my mental house.

And yet.

There was that one time we got paired for trivia night at the Hideout. Everyone had low expectations and fair enough, considering Eddie started the game by insisting our team name should be Satan’s Interns. But we’d won. By a lot. And somewhere between bickering about horror films and stealing chips from him, we’d laughed. Genuinely. A lot.

Another time, he’d found me crying behind the arcade after a fight with my mum. No sarcasm, no teasing he’d just sat beside me, quiet for once, and handed me a slightly crumpled sweet from his coat pocket. Told me his uncle always said sugar helped. It hadn’t. But the thought had.

Of course, the next day he was back to calling me “Princess Judgey” and throwing popcorn at my head during movie night.

It was infuriating. It was him.

Back in the present, everyone eventually drifted back into the film. Robin changed the subject. Steve passed around sweets. Nancy asked something about final exams.

But I could feel him watching me.

Eventually, I turned.

“What?”

Eddie was leaning against the side of the couch, head tilted. “You always this quick with threats, or am I special?”

“Definitely not special.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You ever thought about why you hate me so much?”

“Yes. Frequently. I keep a list.”

“I bet you do.”

I looked at him then. Properly. His curls were half-tied back, the rest framing his face like a chaotic halo. His jacket was slung over one shoulder, rings glinting as he fiddled with a stray string from the rug.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why do you always act like such an arse?”

He grinned. “Because you rise to it every time. It’s fun.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

“Says the man who stage-dived off a table during karaoke.”

“I was moved by the spirit of Freddie Mercury.”

I smiled in spite of myself.

He leaned in, just slightly. “You know,” he said, voice low, “it wouldn’t kill us to get along.”

“I’m not sure we’re built for it.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I reckon we could try.”

Our eyes met again. And for a second, the teasing faded. The smirks softened.

Then Robin threw a cushion at our heads.

“Oh my God, will you two just admit you fancy each other already?” she cried.

Nancy giggled. Steve let out a long, suffering groan.

Eddie didn’t move. Just looked at me, grinning. “Well? Do you?”

I lifted my chin. “Not even a little.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

Maybe I was.

Maybe he was too.

But whatever this was whatever we were it was messy, and stupid, and loud.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[myers-meadow]

Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader: That which isn't taught in books

Title: That which isn't taught in books

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x female librarian reader

Summary: Draco complains about you, the Hogwarts librarian, to his father. This results in the beautiful Lucius Malfoy paying you an unexpected visit. He is rather taken with you, and he shows you things you can't simply learn from books: your place.

Warnings: smut, blowjob, cum, spit, vaginal fingering, degradation, rough kissing, use of 'slut', praise, gloves, Lucius is Lucius and a that's a warning on it's own, consent isn't discussed but reader is into it, manhandling, (suspected) cheating, hair pulling (assumed reader has hair that can be pulled).

Wordcount: 3699

Dividers by by animated-glitter-graphics-n-more and delishlydelightfuldividers.

“Miss __, you must to lend me this book. I need it for class.” Draco Malfoy ordered, pointing to the book on top of the stack on your right.  Third years aren’t typically allowed to borrow advanced books on dark magic, so it wasn’t on the shelves for him to take with a reason.

“No,” you simply replied, removing book from the stack and sending it to the topmost shelf with a wave of your wand. “That’s a restricted book and you need a permission slip from the headmaster before borrowing it.”

Draco scoffed. “I know you let Granger use the library outside the allowed hours.”

How could the damned kid know about that? What a menace.

“The book is still restricted.”

“Do you know who my family is?” Draco said, tapping the desk impatiently.

“Yes, I know your parents quite well. We are old friends, in fact,” you said, which was a lie. The Malfoys are well-known, and you’ve run into them before. Unpleasant was the best word for it, and you were glad the moment you didn’t have to deal with them anymore. Narcissa was alright, perfectly poised and therefore polite – but still raised rich and pureblood. Lucius, on the other hand, gave you nightmares that night. Even worse that you woke up wet between your thighs.

Draco scoffed, sending you a nasty look. “We will see about that, miss __.”

You sighed as he turned around and marched away.

It was later that week that the Hogwarts library had a surprise visit from a tall, white-haired man that reminded you so very much of the pest that was Draco Malfoy.

“So this is where the students are expected to borrow their books from,” said the cold voice, heavy with poorly veiled contempt. “Hogwarts seems to spend their funds… otherwise.”

“Good evening, sir,” you started, tone flat. “Have you come here to take a look around? I assure you our collection is larger than it seems here at the front desk.”

He raised an eyebrow, only now looking at you. “Miss __,” and even that alone sounds like he chastised you, “I’ve come here because of what my son told me of your behaviour. You pick on him and single him out, while the rest of the students are allowed to break school rules at will.”

Your shoulders tensed. So he was really here because of that small ordeal. And above all, it pissed you off that he didn’t even feel the need to introduce himself properly. Of course you knew who he was, but that he expected you to still remember him was infuriating.

“I see. Then you should be pleased to know that I don’t allow any student to break the rules, which includes your son. I do not play favourites.”

An amused smile played at the corner of his lip. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Your tone remained flat. Despite that, it was difficult not to let your eyes wander. Gods, did he dress up this fancy just to give you a stern talking to? He was delicious. With the snake tie pin mirroring the glittering of his cold gaze, the full three piece suit that wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral, and the leather gloves he wore even though he had to cross half the castle to get here.

You continued, taking a deep breath to steel yourself – he noticed, his gaze flickering to your chest. “You may be under the impression, Mr. Malfoy, that professors of this school are easily pressured by empty threats, to give your son a leniency that I refuse to show him. This visit won’t change that, so I’d suggest you save yourself the time.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you past his nose. You were glad for the library desk separating the two of you, or you’d back away from him like a scared animal.

“I do not appreciate your tone,” he said, each word perfectly measured, low and menacing. Your adrenaline spiked, and your knees trembled. He leaned forward, and you fought the urge to take a step back. Even just that thought, of backing of, of yielding to him, he must’ve seen it cross your face, and smirked in response, clearly enjoying the hold he had on you.

A group of Hufflepuffs entered the library, giggling to themselves, until they saw the standoff you were in. “Let’s just come again later,” one suggested, and they left quickly, whispering to each other. You nodded at them, and moved your gaze back to the imposing man in front of you. From this close, you could smell the perfume he wore. Something warm like sandalwood mixed with citrus. Fuck, he was insanely attractive. Touching him would feel like the most luxurious velvet.

“I suggest,” he leaned in even closer over the desk, you felt the warmth of his breath fan your face, “that from now on, you make sure you assist in Draco’s education and let him borrow whatever books he wants.”

“If he has the right permission slip from the headmaster, Draco can borrow any book he likes. Without it, he can’t.” You could barely focus on his words with how close he was. “If you knew the book in question, you’d agree with my approach and be glad that I didn’t have a conversation about Draco’s interest of late.”

“And what book may that be, miss?”

“Forbidden hexes and curses. And he’s practiced some too, already. One may think he’s… a bit too interested in the Dark Arts.” You clacked your tongue and pushed yourself off of the desk, trying to clear your head. “It wasn’t a beginner’s book either.”

Lucius quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. “Perhaps we should discuss this matter somewhere more… private.”

His velvety voice made your insides flip in nervous anticipation, which you attempted to calm with little success. So, that approached worked. The value purebloods place on image was such an easy win, but it felt good to hear his tone soften.

“My office is there.”

He moved around the desk and went first, waiting for you to move around him and open the door for him. Once inside, he shut and locked the door, and with a quick wave of his wand, the blinds shut themselves. His small smirk as he looked at you then was nothing short of predatory.

“Draco told me so much about you,” his voice was even more hypnotising than before, and he knew the effect he had on you as you breathed in sharply. He walked around you slowly, taking you in completely. Surely this was another intimidation technique of his, so you force yourself to stand your ground.

“He has?” you echo, not seeing the point of it, but wanting to delay the threats and the fight – and that deliciously wrong feeling of anticipation was building steadily inside your lower belly.

“The librarian,” his voice was smooth as silk, “who is so attractive that it keeps the students from their studies. A Slytherin, but surprisingly, you don’t know who or what is good for you.”

It sounds like he’s insulting you again. He stood still right in front of you, a finger coming to rest on your cheek. The contempt has returned to his expression, along with something else.

“You dress… well. Draco said you looked inappropriate, but he is just a boy. He gets silly ideas too quickly.” Lucius’ voice has softened considerably. The way you looked up at him made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing whether to fight, flight or fawn – and the result is that you did nothing.

“Your concern for my appearance is noted, sir,” you managed to say. “Is that why you really came all this way? To make sure your son’s librarian dresses appropriately?”

A small chuckle broke the silence. “I must admit, you are more alluring than he said you were. Perhaps we can solve this disagreement in a more pleasurable manner. If you can learn your place, that is.”

You stared at him. The gloved finger tapping your cheek moved to your lips, slipping between them. The smell of the leather was strong and made your head swim.

“Or should I make it clearer for you? On your knees.” His condescending tone was unlike anything you’ve heard before: alluring, yet cruel. The velvet softness of his voice contrasted with the way he looked down at you past his nose. Such a regal face…

When you didn’t immediately obey, he pushed you down by your shoulders. The floor was cold even through the fabric of your skirt. The tip of his cane tapped your cheek lightly, but it was threat enough.

You gulped. Looking up at him from this angle was a sight to see, his amused expression, the smell of him, the texture of his glove in your hair were as intimidating as they were arousing.

“What’s the matter? I’m sure a big girl like you knows what to do.” His leather clad hand tugged open his belt and ripped open the buttons without a second of hesitation. His eyes glinted darkly with lust. Only when he tugged his cock free from his underwear, did you look away from his eyes. He was gorgeous, pulsing, rigid, the head flushed with blood, with just one teardrop of precum at the slit. Doubting your actions, you reached a hand up to grip him. Warm. Thick, too.

“Are you just going to sit there? Open.”

You obeyed, instinctively, and he groaned lowly as he slid his cock in your waiting mouth. Wetting the underside of his cock with your tongue, you teased the bit of skin just under the head, making it bounce against the roof of your mouth. His breaths came sharply, slowly turning to soft sounds of pleasure. He slid in and out as you sucked him, moving your lips along his shaft. Clearly he held back in showing just how good you made him feel – and your determination grew. You teased the head with vigour, and before you could settle on a rhythm, he forced himself in deep. Gagging and trying to swallow around him, he groaned, and the sound went straight to your core. Shifting your thighs together to relieve the throbbing ache wasn’t close to enough. Lucius set a punishing pace for himself, deep and fast. In and out, and his length grew wetter and wetter with saliva and precum.

“What a pretty girl you are,” praised Lucius, in between hissed breaths and stifled groans. He held your head back by the hair then, and pulled your lips from his cock.

“You were made for this. Know just how to please your superior.”

A cruel gleam shone in his eye as he looked down on you, and he rubbed his cock over your face, coating it in your spit. His words rang true in a way that made you whimper pathetically. The humiliation burned. You broke out in a heated sweat, but the terrible empty throbbing of your cunt was enough for you to stay put. He pulls your head back on his cock, immediately pushing into your throat again.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans. The satisfied sadism in his expression has you dripping. “What great things even you can accomplish if you receive the right guidance.”

His ‘guidance’ came in the form of an insistent hand fisted in your hair as he fucked your face, without any care for your comfort. Now that his length was wet and slimy, it went in easier, but it still made you gag. You tried your best to hollow your cheeks, wanting to prove to him how good you could be. A small part of you, at the back of your mind, was disgusted by your actions and more so by how easily Lucius exploited your submissive streak. Yet, when you glanced up and saw the pleasure etched into his face, that voice quieted down. He looked sinfully good from this angle, and you enjoyed it through tearful eyes as he pushed at your gag reflex once again. In, out, slower, feeling the drag of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and moaning filth behind clenched teeth. Then, having enough of your tongue, his pace increased, pushing into your deeper and without mercy.

Eventually he let out a satisfied groan, and he pulled out from your mouth, drool spilling onto your blouse, and he stroked himself to completion, groaning harshly as he came. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your face. You gasped at how unexpected of and end it was, face burning at how degrading it was to sit there and take it, stunned at the audacity of this man. It may be true that you craved this from the moment you first met him, but that didn’t change that it made you feel both disgusting and desired like nothing else could.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, filthy girl?” His gloved hand twisted in your hair, angling your face so he could admire you. “You will leave this as it is. Merlin, you enjoy this, don’t you? Made such a mess of yourself. Filthy fucking slut.”

His words came through gritted teeth, and you feel the strength he’s holding back as he forced you to stand by your hair. You yelped. The cum left a nasty pulling sensation on the skin as it started to dry. You felt used, so used, and his disgust showed clearly on his face. Nevertheless, he pulled you close, forcing your head to his and he kissed you, with open mouth against your cum covered lips. Without a care that his cum smeared his face as well as yours, and the bitter aftertaste that it left in his mouth, he devoured you hungrily.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, voice rough. You obeyed. The moan he let out as he pressed his lips to yours again was the most lewd sound you’d ever heard. Your tongues entwined, the taste of his seed mingling with saliva. It was gross, but in the best way. You made him like this, was the thought that shot through your mind, you made him gross and lose control. And you did all of that just by being you.

Teeth clashed and you winced, but he barely seemed to notice. He was so rough, so uncoordinated, yet it was the hottest thing you ever felt. Spirals and sparks of heat radiated in your belly. The hand in your hair let go, to great relief, and wrapped around your throat instead. The kiss grew fiercer still. He consumed you. All of you. His teeth tugged at your lips, nipping harshly enough for small stings of pain, but they were soothed over with the warmth of his tongue. His nose pressed against your face with how far he leant into you, how harshly he pulled your face against his.

This hunger was a world away from his earlier disgust.

When he let go, his pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, passionate and heated. He wiped the cum from his nose and lips, and licked it from his gloved fingers. Your eyes fluttered just at the sight of him. And it was you who caused this, who brought out this side of him, all dishevelled, messy, stained… All for you.

“It seems you do know your place well, dear librarian. How about a reward, then? Do you think you deserve one?”

All you could do was nod.

He pushed you back until your ass hit your desk, and he lifted you up until you were seated. “Legs wide. Good girl.” He spread your thighs as he stood between them. His gloved fingers dragged over the sensitive skin of your innermost thigh. You were positively throbbing. Have you ever felt arousal this strong while completely untouched? You hated him for it.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy,” you whimpered, already growing impatient.

Tugging at the cotton of your panties, he said, not a question, but an order: “Why don’t you take those off for me.”

You stumbled to comply. Before you could say anything, he silenced you by sliding two fingers in your mouth, and you wet them without being prompted to. The leather tasted like his cum, bitter. The texture was pleasant on your tongue. He hummed, pleased, as he slid his fingers out.

“Who knew you’d be such a quick student? But then again, they do say librarians have a wide variety of knowledge.” And his finger found your clit. “How’s that?”

You whined sharply as he increased the pressure, but didn’t move his fingers, still depriving me of the friction I craved.

“Or rather here?” and he slid his fingers to your slit, dipping in, before moving back up, bringing the slick with them. “Aren’t you a wet little slut.”

His middle finger slid in to the knuckle, with embarrassing ease. You moaned softly, brow furrowing. It felt right. So right. So perfect. This is what you were made for, for such a feeling, of being filled, of being used by a man as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy. Your eyes locked and your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his stare.

“What a sensitive young woman you are,” he said, voice soft, yet with a darkness to it. “No one’s touched you this good before. And no one will, after.”

He pulled his finger almost out, then pushed it back in, setting himself a slow and deep rhythm, curling it deep inside. Each time he hit that spot inside, your gasps and moans became a little higher, a little more desperate. You clung onto his shoulders, and he leaned so close your noses touched.

“You look quite beautiful like this… Who knew it would be this fun to put a librarian in her place?” it almost seemed he talked to himself moreso than to you. One finger became two, but his pace remained the same. Steady, in, out, in, curling, out. The drag of his gloves made it even better, and when you looked down, they were wet and creamy from how wet you were. You whimpered as he followed your line of sight, and slammed back in harder. And harder. Now that his pace was steadily increasing, so were the sensations, growing hotter quick. He tipped you over the edge and you nearly screeched – but he kept going, the orgasm prolonging itself until you reached a second high, so high it was painful - and he moaned along with you, slowing but not pulling out. When he finally stilled, both of your breaths were sharp, as though you’d just ran up five flights of stairs. He kissed you again, messily, as he pumped in and out just a few more times, enjoying the twitches of your aftershocks.

“What a good girl,” he purred, and he pulled out. The feeling of emptiness was jarring and you clenched around nothing. His fingers slipped past your lips, and you sucked them clean obediently. “What a good girl,” he repeated, with emphasis and a fond undertone. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Even after coming down from the orgasm, the hazy feeling stayed, making your head swim as you looked at the man in front of you. He kissed you again, and it was borderline uncomfortable with the drying cum still on your face. He was softer, a wet kiss, he was savouring you.

“I dearly hope this isn’t the last I’ll see of you, my sweet librarian,” he said, and before he left, with a wave of his wand, he grabbed your panties and left with a last, lingering look over his shoulder. “Although I expect you to behave from now on.”

Before you went to sleep that night, you replayed what happened over and over again, and despite the unsatisfiable desire, there was also anger. This man has a wife! You were livid. How could he do this? Not even the degradation – but that you let yourself be treated like that by a man who has a wife!

The next day, during your lunchbreak, the largest bouquet of roses you had ever seen was delivered to the library. There must’ve been more flowers in it than in the entire flower shop in Hogsmeade. The ridiculous arrangement sat on the desk, crowding over all the books. The delivery witch had you sign for them, but refused to tell you who they were from. You shook your head, as you sank down on your chair, staring at them. You didn’t have a vase big enough.

While you were preparing and cutting the stems, you found a note. ‘L. M.’ Was all it said and it filled you with annoyance.

Lucius. Your eyes shot fire at the mention of his name. How dare he play this off in this way. What a condescending gesture, to buy you roses just to stake some sort of claim on you. To remind you of what the two of you did the day before, to keep you in line. Resolutely, you throw the note in the paper bin. Perhaps you should send him a note too, and tell him to save those roses for his wife.

Now what? This many wouldn’t even fit in any garbage bin - not without attracting a horrible amount of attention. Perfectly pristine flowers thrown away would cause enough drama, more than keeping them would. So you, sigh, and continue trimming the stems, getting your anger out with each snip. There was enough to set a few flowers in small vases, or mugs, when those ran out, on each table in the library. The anger had faded by the time it was done, and you looked out over the suddenly very colourful library. Who will water them each morning? You’d never get around to your actual job like this.

What was left of the encounter, was that nagging feeling, of being special. Special enough to have watched such a powerful man as Lucius Malfoy become undone. You smiled softly as you stacked several returned books in your arms. Perhaps this wasn’t over yet.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Stress Relief | Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x AFAB Reader 💋

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: A quick unedited one shot where the reader is stressed and Katsuki decides to help her de-stress :) Nothing complicated here, just sexy vibes.

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, fingering, lemon, Smut, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort

It’s dark in your dorm when Katsuki Bakugo slips through the unlocked door. You’re starting to fall asleep when you see the door open a crack, the light from the hallway illuminating his pale features with its glow.

You’re exhausted and not in the mood to talk to him, not after the day you had. You glare at him from your bed as he quietly shuts the door behind you.

“Come on, babe. Don’t give me that look.” He groans, padding over to your bed and slipping beneath the covers beside you. “You know that I can’t take it easy on you when we spar. You don’t get special treatment in class just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You turn away from him to face the wall, ignoring him. Not only had Katsuki hit you with an over the top, uncalled for special move in training – it was a move you had never seen before. You had thought the two of you shared absolutely everything. You were almost at the end of your third year at UA, chasing graduation. For the past year and a half, you two had been daydreaming about starting a hero agency together. If Katsuki had hid an insane special move from you only to bring it out in a simple training match…what else was he hiding?

“I know that look.” He says as he wraps his arms around you. He’s so strong and sturdy you can’t help but melt into him. “I didn’t tell you about the move because I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you would be more excited about it, honestly. Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.”

You sigh, your whole body sore from where he walloped you with his overenthusiastic explosion earlier that day. Finally, you acknowledge him. “I’ve showed you all of my special moves – even the secret ones. And yet…you kept this insane move a secret even from me. Sometimes I don’t think you trust me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, rolling your words around in his mind. When he does speak, there’s a tinge of hurt in his voice. A vulnerability that only a few people will ever hear form Katsuki Bakugo. “Babe…I didn’t realize I was keeping it a secret. I was really excited to show you. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t trust you. You’re the only person who knows absolutely all of me. You gotta believe that.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, reinforcing the words.

You huff with frustration. “Yeah, I know, okay? I’m just really achy and pissed off that you decided to debut some flashy move while fighting me. Why couldn’t you unleash it on Kaminari or Kirishima?”

He buries his face in the back of your neck. “I was tryin’ to impress ya, is all.”

“I’d be a lot more impressed if you didn’t blast the hell out of me during a training exercise.” You try to scoot away from him and end up stretching out your muscles at an odd angle. You cry out softly at the pain.

“Did I hurt ya that bad?” He says, concern lacing his words. “You’re made of such tough stuff…but maybe I took things a little too far in the ring.” His hands run across your body soothingly, trying to rub out any aches and pains that he may have caused during your sparring.

“It’s fine. Honestly, it was a really stressful day and your new ‘special move’ was just the icing on top of the cake. I just need it to be the weekend already.” You sigh out. The past few weeks have been so stressful at school and at your work study. You’re tired and overworked, and you could really just use a break. Katsuki unleashing the full force of his explosion hell on you in class was definitely not something you were mentally or physically prepared for – all you want to do now is rest.

“I know you’ve been real stressed lately. Sorry if I added to it.” He mumbles into your shoulder, leaving light kisses along your skin. You shiver when you feel the tip of his tongue dart out to trace a shape on the sensitive skin of your clavicle.

“Hey…you know what we haven’t done in a while?” His voice suddenly brightens and his hand snakes down to grip your stomach lightly over your shirt. “I can think of a great way to give you a good dose of stress relief.” He smooths his hand down the plane of your stomach and finds the hem of your shirt, dipping underneath the thin fabric so that he can fan out his fingers across your delicate skin. “Let me take your stress away with my fingertips, sweetheart.” He begins to run his fingers back and forth under the waistband of your sweatpants. The sensual touch causes a sparking sensation to gather down in your core. Everywhere he touches, goose bumps pop up on your skin.

“…Kats.” You say, warningly. The walls of the dorm are notoriously thin, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Mr. Aizawa’s lectures about safe sex, creating a culture of respect, the dorm rules, etc.

“Just keep quiet. I’ll make it quick as I can. No one ever has to know.” He leans in and starts to plant slow, open mouthed kisses along your neck, his fingers dipping lower and into dangerous territory. He brings the palm of his hand to rest right above your panties and slowly starts to circle your clit from over the delicate cotton fabric.

“Oh.” You breathe out, your body coming back to life as Katsuki touches you. He’s always so direct, so sure of himself. His approach to sex is reflective of that – don’t beat around the bush, just get to the heart of the pleasure.

“Yeah?” He whispers wetly before nipping at your earlobe. “You like when I touch you here?”

“Duh.” You hiss through your teeth. Katsuki pulls his hand away from your pussy and you almost cry out at the loss of contact. He brings his ring and middle fingers to his mouth and sucks, coating them in a thick sheen of saliva. He then moves to touch you again, this time sliding his hand beneath your panties for better access. When his warm, wet fingers hit your clit – your body absolutely lights up. All aches and pains are gone – its just you, Katsuki, and his magical fingers.

He starts out slow, circling around your clit until your grinding your butt back into him. He loves this – spooning you while he gets you off. He loves a good power dynamic, and this is no exception. In this position, Katsuki has most of the control. He likes that you know it, too.

He circles your clit lazily for a while, letting you get a feel for it. As you start to buck into him, he decides to speed things up, dipping his fingers low so he can gather some slick from your entrance before sliding them back up to work more on your clit. Within seconds you’re begging for him to get inside you, and he obliges – slipping a single digit into you slowly while giving your clit the attention it deserves with his thumb. He lets you hump his hand, finding the angles that work best with your body and causing you to see stars.

It’s when he slips a second finger into you that you start to get close. You feel his cock harden against the curve of your ass, eager to please. He starts leaving a trail of hot hickies along your shoulder – sucking in your sensitive skin between his sharp teeth and then kissing over marks he leaves behind. The combination of sensations is far too much, and you feel yourself get closer and closer to falling off the edge. The way Katsuki's fingers are slipping, sliding, stretching...it's far too much. You want to groan in pleasure, but you keep your mouth shut as best you can.

His fingers pump in and out of you with practiced skill, and you clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from moaning out his name for all of the dorm to hear.

“Kats!” You say in a muffled voice from behind your hand. “Kats, I’m close.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He brings his fingers out of you to focus on your clit for a bit, drawing circles and triangles and figure eights and whatever other fuckin’ shapes he knows how to make around your sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs are shaking. Then, when he feels he’s gotten you hot and bothered enough, he slides two fingers deep into your cunt, flicking them in an attempt to hit your G spot.

And holy shit he does.

Katsuki hits that delicious spongy spot deep inside you and your body jerks with pleasure. He smirks at the reaction, proud of himself for figuring you out so quickly. He hits the spot again and again and again until your pussy tenses up and falls into one of the finest orgasms you’ve had in your life. You cum so easily, your whole body shaking as he takes you apart with nothing but his fingertips. The waves of the orgasm hit you full force, your body tingling and jerking in time with his targeted movements. He lets you ride out your orgasm, mumbling quiet praise into your ear as you grind through your high.

“That’s my good girl, so perfect for me. Cumming on my fingertips so nicely. Fuck babe. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Keep cumming for me please.”

His words are just as sexy as his hand down your pants, and you can’t believe how lucky you are to have landed someone as hot as Katsuki.

When you finally finish, he slides his hand out of your panties and pulls you close. He plants a hundred kisses across your neck and shoulder, happy to have been of service. You lay in silence for a moment – you catching your breath, him glowing with pride at a job well done.

“Did I manage to take away some of your stress?” He whispers cheekily. The damn idiot is so proud of himself, as always.

“S-sure.” You try to sound calm, cool and collected but the break in your voice is enough. Katsuki knows that he achieved exactly what he set out to do. You melt back into his chest and start to doze. What a day it's been! You're too tired to speak anymore, but you manage to squeak out: “Thanks babe. Love you.”

“Love ya, too.” He says, settling in under the covers and planting a last kiss on your back. “But I’m still not taking it easy on ya during training.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Is the last thing you say before drifting off into a sound sleep.

[brnesblogposts]

Listen, please.

Pairing Matty Healy x Reader

words: 1k

warnings angst lol

a/n i decided to switch it up because “you” was starting to piss me off so i switched to third person for this one

—————-

He shut the front door behind him as quietly as he could, locking it, just getting home from the studio. It was two in the morning. The third time this week that he'd got home at a ridiculous hour, he had barely seen her the last couple of weeks.

Y/n lay in bed facing the wall so when he came in he wouldn't know she'd been crying, she felt ridiculous crying over barely seeing him, but it really was getting to her. She felt neglected and like a second choice, she knows how important the music is to him and the guys but she just wished he'd pay more attention to her.

Matty snuck into their room and used the light of his phone to navigate his way to the bathroom, so as not to disturb her. She listened to him as he turned the tap on to brush his teeth and heard him drop his clothes into the laundry basket. He came out of the bathroom and slid into bed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder where he could've sworn he felt her pull away from him, probably a coincidence he thought. She hid under the covers more as he started adjusting himself and getting comfortable, she wished she didn't have to share a bed with him because lately, he felt like a stranger.

She continued staring at the wall as her mind raced, thoughts running through her head at one hundred miles an hour. The overthinking caught up to her again and a few tears escaped her eyes, running down her cheeks. At the same time, completely unaware of what was happening next to him, Matty stared up at the ceiling. He knew he hadn't been paying enough attention to her but this record was so close to being done, he tended to fixate on his music because when it came to his art he was a perfectionist.

As he stared up at the ceiling he absentmindedly reached out to try to touch her, he wanted to feel connected to her. When she pulled away from his contact he felt his stomach drop. It was then he tuned into the sniffles escaping her lips, he reached over to his bedside lamp and turned it on, turning back to her "Baby?" He went to stroke her hair but she curled up into herself even more. He hated seeing her like this, he should have been here this week for he would've known what was bothering her, "Darlin'? What's wrong?" Still, he received no response. He wasn't going to push you but if he knew what was wrong then he could try to fix it.

A few minutes passed and he just sat there watching her, wondering if she'd say anything. He was about to give up and wait until the morning when "You don't love me anymore." She spoke in the most delicate voice "What?!" He all but yelled and then she sat up, "You don't love me anymore." She repeated. He snapped "Don't you ever fuckin' say that again" Why was he angry? She couldn't figure it out, "It's okay," Her voice was soft-spoken. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What are you on about? Where the fuck did you get that impression?!" He was trying to keep his voice calm but the accusation was pissing him off, he was more mad at himself than anything, how could he ever let her think such a thing, he felt like he failed as a boyfriend.

Tears started falling down her cheeks and wetting the bedsheets where she sat cross-legged "You-you're never home," she sputtered "Obviously you'd rather be at the studio than with me anymore, I'm sorry I wasn't good enough, I really did try" She choked. He looked at her, eyes wide. He watched as she broke down in front of him. His girl was crying because of him. She continued crying as he watched in disbelief, trying to find the words "I am so fucking sorry." He spoke with sincerity, analysing her face, once again trying to reach out to her but being rejected. He felt like shit.

"Y/n, please.." Matty went for her hand and kept talking "Please, listen to me, don't pull away," She let him take her hand in his and he ran his thumb over the back of it as he spoke "Baby... I love you. Do you hear me? I love you and nothing has changed or will change." Her tears increased his words and he squeezed her hand,

"I can not express how sorry I am for making you feel anything less than enough. You are more than enough, I don't deserve you, to be honest. You have stood by me through everything, all my shit, you've been there and let me speak to you in the most horrible manner when I was at my lowest. I'm so sorry I've been absent this week, I got caught up in the studio, but from now on that won't happen. I'll be here with you more, I'll make sure to tell you how much I love and appreciate you every day, please let me fix this because I can't lose you, my darling." He poured his heart out, kissing her hand when he finished.

They sat in silence as she processed his words, his thumb never halting in its comforting caress on her hand. He stared at her as he watched the tears come to a halt, holding his breath.

"I know your music is important to you," She breathed deeply "You're the most incredible, talented man I know. I guess it just sometimes feels like I get in your way?" He raised his brow at this "I feel like I hold you back, if we weren't together you'd have more time to work on your music." She confessed and he turned her chin to look him in the eyes as he said "You are my music, you're my muse in everything that I do," He squeezed her hand again "You are integrated into my lyrics, the guys get sick of me sometimes, but you're my whole world. He finished his ramble and a glimpse of a smile appeared on her face "God you're an idiot sometimes, Healy," Rolling her eyes "Maybe, but I'm your idiot," He grinned like a dork, she loved that grin.

"I love you, Matthew Healy" She smiled at him,

"I love you, my darling love, Y/n" He smiled as his lips met yours.

———-

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated! i feel like while writing this i thought it was my best work and then i got to the end and i hate it, this happens with everything i do though.. :D

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 15

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 15: new terms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I quickly discovered Alastor's distaste for being ignored.

After the stunt he pulled with my blood, I was determined to keep my distance. He attempted conversation multiple times but I responded with a short answer or a shrug. He attempted to ask what was wrong but that made me further upset. For being soulmates, he sucked at realizing which of his many actions pissed me off.

After the second day, I noticed a lack of meat in the fridge. Before my cravings turned dangerous, I knew I had to pay him a visit. I had to do it with a clear head so I had to do it soon. I hoped the craving I felt was the usual and not the one for his blood.

I gave myself until the third day. I waited in the hallway outside his office, making sure to keep his broadcast from reaching my ears through the door. I didn't want to hear the screams of his trapped souls and dangerous threats. I needed to have confidence to face him.

I was examining my claws, world still silent, when the door opened. My senses came running back as I looked up to meet his grin. "Are you finally gracing me with your presence?" he mused.

"I want to talk."

"Then come in, darling." He held the door open and motioned with his other hand. The hair on my arms and neck stood up. It felt like I was walking right into a spider's web or a wolf's den.

I swallowed, then pushed off the wall. The room was darker than the rest of the house. It grew even darker when he closed the door behind me. I felt trapped, immediately regretting to come in rather than talk in the hallway.

"Come sit, dear." He motioned to the one chair at the fireplace and seated himself in his desk chair. He sat back, legs crossed, and leaned his cheek on his knuckles. His eyes never left me. "Tell me, why the abrasive attitude as of late?"

"I don't appreciate what you did the other night."

"I take it you don't appreciate much of what I do. You'll need to be specific."

This was the type of Alastor I hated dealing with, the type that I had fought against when I first came here.

I tried to mimic his position by leaning into my chair and resting my elbow on the arm of it. I gently brushed my fingers along the part of my neck where he had sank his teeth into three days ago. He lifted his eyebrows but said nothing. He was going to make me say it.

"I didn't appreciate the way you...the way you took my blood a few days ago," I managed. My composure was nothing like his but I tried to tell myself this was practice.

"Is that the only reason you've been avoiding me?" he inquired. He sat up and let his hand fall in his lap. The way he sat wasn't aggressive or intimidating, but graceful and relaxed. It was a stark contrast to his tone, making it confusing on how I should be responding.

"That's reason enough," I tried with a firm tone.

"So you're not bothered by how I retrieved my information from Blackwater's man?"

"I...what?"

"I was fully aware you were watching from my eyes. I was quite impressed you had managed to do it on your own from such a distance." He nodded his head with a smirk.

"I didn't...I..." I looked down at my claws. I didn't know he could feel me when I was watching. Yet that wasn't why I was confused. I hadn't been disturbed by the way he wrenched the man's soul out of his body. Was that because I was inside Alastor's mind, though? Thinking like him? Surely that was it. "We're getting off track."

"Indeed. Where were we?"

"The stunt you pulled three days ago."

"When I tasted your blood?"

"Yes." I leaned forward in the chair, ears back. "It hurt and you almost killed me."

"I may have taken more than necessary, but I wasn't going to kill you. It puts a strain on our bond when you're close to death."

"I didn't like the way you did it." I enunciated the last few words.

"It was the easiest and most efficient way," he said in a matter of fact tone. "Even you know the cravings can cloud your judgement."

"You didn't need to bite my neck. My arm would've been better."

"You have yet to accept the nature of your diet. I was attempting to give you space before I asked. Unless, of course, you want to make this more frequent..." he tapped his fingers individually on his knee, trailing his words at the end.

"You think this is funny."

"Amusing is a better word."

I abruptly stood. I kept the distance but standing higher than him gave me just an ounce of confidence. The way his eyes looked up at me sent a funny feeling through my chest. "I'm telling you now, it's a new boundary. Don't do it again."

My tail whisked behind me as I went to the door, eager to leave the confined space. His claws caught the end of my tail and tugged. I spun, my sharp dagger-filled eyes instantly losing their ferocity when he pushed my chin up with the back of his hand.

"Then how would you like to do it, darling?" The name rolled of his tongue and nailed my feet into the floor. I found myself unable to look away from his red eyes. The heat moved up from my chest and settled in my cheeks. "Come now, dear, tell me." He ever so lightly tapped his thumb on my chin.

"I..." I fell silent, completely unable to answer. I had forgotten what he even asked. He rubbed his claws on my tail and I pulled it out of his grip, finally having something to act upon.

His hand moved from my chin, over my shoulder, and snaked down to my wrist. He pulled it up to his mouth, breath fanning across my skin. "Would you prefer here?" Before I could answer he pulled my wrist higher, stretching my arm and forcing me take a step closer. "Perhaps here instead?" His lips brushed against my forearm.

It was hard to swallow. My throat was dry and my breathing was shallow, but for once not from his magic. I wanted to run but I couldn't let him win. He couldn't scare me anymore. I could go toe to toe with him. At least, I was trying.

I ripped my hand from his grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You didn't like how we did it last time. I am merely asking for clarification." He put a hand on his chest with a fake pained look.

"That's not what you're doing and you know that." I pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"What exactly am I doing, then?" He tilted his head to the side. Embarrassment and anger boiled together. I turned for the door handle but he wrapped his claws around the underside of my wrist. It wasn't restricting but there was pressure. "Did you come in here in an attempt to scold me, or were you looking to satisfy something of your own?"

"It's not that bad yet." I let go of the handle to pull my hand away but his claws stayed wrapped around it, following it to where I held it over my chest. His presence was sitting on the outside of my shields, our energy bouncing between us. My hands had already begun to sweat.

"You are torturing yourself, dear." I watched his boots shift so they were closer to my foot claws. "Waiting until you're desperate and in pain. I reckon if you had more of my blood, you wouldn't need any Human's or Demon's blood again." He leaned closer, his chest nearly touching my back.

No more cannibalism, I realized. All I had to do was swallow the embarrassment and my own pride. Could I do that? He was having fun because it made me uncomfortable and embarrassed. If I treated it like it was nothing, maybe he would grow tired and stop the tormenting and teasing. The only problem was the act of taking blood hurt.

"What do you say, dear?" His radio filter was gone as he whispered in my ear. His other hand slipped into the one at my side and interlocked our fingers. His presence backed away from my mind while he closed the physical distance and pressed his chest against my back. I leaned into him, drawn in by his warmth, and stared down at his red claws still around my wrist.

"Okay."

"Okay what?" he pressed gently, filter still off.

"I'll take your blood instead."

"Only if you allow me to do the same. I will be more gentle next time."

"Okay."

"So it's a deal?" Filter back on. My nose scrunched in a snarl and I tried to pull my hand free from his clasped one. He squeezed tightly, refusing to let go. He took a sharp step forward and my arm near my chest barely had time to catch myself on the door. He was still holding onto that wrist.

"I already made a deal with you." I tried pushing against him but he pushed back harder. My forehead was only an inch from the door.

"You can make multiple deals with someone," he said lightly. "Besides, it only strengthens our bond further."

"And gives you the power you want. I'm not doing that." I tried pulling my hand free again but his grip was relentless and unmoving. His body was wrapping around mine and my chest heaved from my panicked breaths.

"I crave your blood just as much as you crave mine," he said next. "This is a means to ensure I don't lose such a delicate. The strengthen of our bond is merely an added bonus." His hair brushed against my neck as his face was completely side by side with mine. I couldn't control my erratic breathing. "Surely you don't wish to continue eating dead victims."

My arm was growing tired from holding the two of us up. I needed to breathe. Just once. "But why make it a deal?" I cursed myself as my voice pitched into a high whine.

"It prevents you from backing out."

I brought one knee up to the door and tried pushing again. "The fact that I would want to should cause concern on your part."

"It does not." His voice hardened. "You have fleeting emotions when it comes to your nature as a Demon. You are inconsistent."

"I have a right to be. A lot has changed for me."

"You have admitted to be inconsistent. Now you see why a deal would ensure you are consistent. I require your blood as much as you require mine, and I do not wish to argue each and every time."

I fell silent. He got me.

I lowered my leg and gave way with my sore arm. His presence gradually came back to the edges of my mind while his body inched away. I drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"So do we have a deal?" he asked again, quieter and softer.

I took my time, taking another slow, self-assured breath. "We take each other's blood when needed, but you must ask first."

I heard a quiet, terrifying snarl in my ear. "Deal." I felt the binding magic ignite from our already clasped hands. It wound its way up my arm and surrounded my heart. It ventured out to the rest of my body like a slow burn of electricity. It momentarily closed my throat and I drew in a sharp gasp when it passed.

It was quiet in the room now. I slowed my breathing and tried to relax my muscles. Alastor peeled his claws off my skin and stood up. His claw came back down on my shoulder a second later, gently turning me to face him. I leaned against the door for support.

He brushed the back of his hand across my cheek. "Now then, do you have something you'd like to ask me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

mmm....tasty....

[allwormdiet]

Interlude 2

Ahh, it's time for Brockton Bay's healthiest family to debut

Flight is so cool. Flight without having to get cold or wet or getting pelted by bugs is outright unfair.

Me, utterly charmed: oh my god she's a fucking NERD

And she's a nerd who's scaring the piss out of Nazis, who would hate this girl?

Which, oh yeah, the Nazis run around in Brockton Bay, bet those guys will never sour my mood

Glory Girl's got a whole bunch of powers, huh. Can't wait to get into the exact circumstances of how she got really cool abilities as an inadequate consolation prize for whatever hell she had to endure

I'm gonna be real, the description of this throw made me flinch a little bit. Like he's a Nazi so fuck him, but I hope it doesn't turn out that Victoria is this blase about all her targets

...So if the only spines she ever breaks are Nazi spines, then I'll give Glory Girl every pass she ever asks for, but if she ever wraps a weed dealer's skeleton around a lamppost I'm going to feel a liiiiiittle more concerned.

Everything else aside, this is fucking hilarious

So these two are at the epicenter of, as far as I can tell, one of the most divisive subjects in this fandom? With the others mostly seeming to be variations on "did such-and-such character have full moral justification to do actual for-real crimes against humanity." Let's see where this takes us

I feel a little bad immediately for the contrasts between Vicky and Amy. Five bucks says it's gonna turn out Amy is like the only brunette in the whole family, and while everyone else gets to show off a little she's dressed in a sackcloth. It's very white mage, but I don't know if she even knows what a white mage is.

Also it's a minor detail in the grand scheme of things but I fear for her hair's health if it's actively being described as frizzy

So apparently between ragdolling a Nazi like it's Garrys Mod and this passage, people have chosen to interpret Victoria Dallon as a monster. I can see how they'd be mistaken on this because technically speaking they're close: she's a teenager. For a lot of people the worst version of ourselves is one that exists somewhere between the ages of twelve and twenty, don't ask me how I know that one. The guilt trip here is definitely manipulative, but so is every kid who's trying to play whatever card they have to dodge repercussions for their fuckups. This is a kid, not a master manipulator who twists hearts around in her fingers like rings. This is normal behavior within an abnormal context.

According to Wikipedia, "foreshadowing is a narrative device in which a storyteller gives an advance hint of what is to come later in the story. Foreshadowing often appears at the beginning of a story, and it helps develop or subvert the audience's expectations about upcoming events."

Fuck Nazis, and I'm gonna get in a preemptive "fuck Coil" while I'm at it

Hmm. So here we get the Docks from a third perspective (albeit a Nazi's, so let's take it with a grain of salt), and this time it's presented as something of material value. I wonder how much of that is due to the neighborhood being low-priority for the police and Protectorate, if they decided it's not worth policing if it's not going to recover any time soon.

It's also interesting seeing which names are being thrown around with the possibility of fighting over the territory. I know Squealer ends up part of the Merchants and they end up being a decent power in their own right, but I don't know if any of the others would have shown an interest in fighting for territory. I got the impression that Uber and Leet are more like unfunny and violent pranksters than anything, Circus apparently operates on their own which doesn't seem like how you'd make dreams of conquest come true, the Undersiders are sticking with the theft shtick at this point, and I don't know shit about Trainwreck or Stain. Wonder how much of this is legit speculation, how much of it is the E88 leadership blowing smoke for their followers, and how much of it is this specific guy blowing smoke.

Yeah, see, they're good kids. For now.

Current Thoughts

To pull back on the frame a little, I think this interlude was written with two goals: first and most obvious is to get us in the head of another young cape, a for-real hero this time, who will be featuring in future events to some extend, but then beyond that it's reflecting the rippling consequences of Taylor's actions. Taking down Lung was a good deed, it saved lives and weakened a major gang within the city, but now others are rushing in to take advantage of this and it could cause more harm than was prevented in Arc 1. Taylor couldn't have known these repercussions were coming, she's a high school sophomore who'd only engaged with the cape community in any way after she'd already knocked the bastard over, and she probably still would have made the play to take Lung down and save the Undersiders even knowing that there might be increased gang violence. She's big on action and she's big on pushing through to solve the problem, repercussions dealt with later, but I suspect that everything is going to ripple out in this same way until the whole city starts shaking with it.

Anyway, more to the first point, I like Victoria, she took very little time to endear herself to me and I'm not going to feel so awful about her bone-breaking habits as long as she keeps it to the Nazis

I haven't seen enough of Amy to have a full read on her yet, and I haven't gotten into her head to know how she thinks or feels, but for now I'm pretty solidly on sympathy/pity for her. I'd say something like "we'll see where she takes it from here" but I kinda already know that one

Hoo, boy. Arc 2 done with. 18 chapters in four days? That's not bad. I'm gonna stretch my legs and think for a bit and then I'll give my two cents on the whole of Insinuation.

[whiteraven87]

Driven by Success: Golden Girl - 8. I'm not a trophy

-------------------

The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist

Part 2: Driven by Success. Golden Girl

Prologue

Unexpected Gift

Mercedes Golden Girl

Unexpected visit

New season start

The Pain that never Fades

Rebellion on Board

I'm not a trophy

The Campaign

The Edge of Fear

I am not for Him

Breaking Point

Building Walls

Adrenaline

Blinding Lights

Closeness

Don't Run Away from me again

Glows and Shadows

On the Edge

A Night full of Temptations

The Line you won't cross

Shadows of the Past

Confession

Emptiness

I Need Time

Is it over?

Epilogue

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: long (very long) slow burn, age gap (23 years), woman racing in F1, boss/driver relationship, difficult and painful past, death, anxiety,

---------------------------

Author note:

So… meet Marcus Elridge — charming, arrogant, filthy rich, and very used to getting what he wants. Don’t let the slick smile fool you. Marcus is going to stir up more than just awkward tension in Miriell and Toto’s world. This is only the beginning of his game — and the stakes are high. Keep your eyes on him. I promise, you’ll want to know what’s coming next… 🖤

--------------------------

8. I'm not a trophy

JAPANESE GP, Sponsor Meeting, Mercedes Motorhome

POV Miriell

I entered the VIP area of the Mercedes motorhome, adjusting the sleeves of my leather jacket. A closed meeting for sponsors. Another obligation. More hours of smiles, politeness, and conversations I had absolutely no desire for. Sponsor meetings were one of those duties I had learned to endure with a smile. I didn’t like them, but that was the price of being part of this world. In Mercedes, we had an agreement – I presented myself professionally, represented the team, but I was not a hostess available to be rented for dinner.

And that’s when I met him. Marcus Eldridge.

He was one of the main sponsors, obscenely wealthy and equally self-assured. I knew men like him. I had seen them in the paddock, in VIP lounges, at banquets. Men who believed they could have anything and anyone.

From the first moment he approached me in the Mercedes motorhome, I knew he would be a problem.

“Miriell Joschke.” His voice was deep and confident. “I must admit, you look even better in person than on the track.”

I smiled politely, but something inside me simmered.

“Thank you. That’s kind of you.”

“It’s just an honest opinion.” He smiled, looking at me like a piece of art he wanted to buy. “I’m impressed. Not just with your driving but with… everything else.”

I didn’t respond. I knew where this was going.

“I’m in Japan for a few more days. Maybe we could have dinner together?”

“I’m afraid I’m very busy preparing for the race.”

“There’s always time for pleasure.”

Toto was watching from a distance. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel his gaze.

Marcus was persistent. Relentless. And that was just the beginning.

After that meeting, Marcus didn’t back down. He invited me to dinners, sent gifts, and showed up at races as a VIP guest. There was nothing I could do – he was a major sponsor, and as I heard from Toto, he wanted to buy a stake in the team. Toto was blocking it, and as a one-third co-owner, he had the right to do so. I didn’t like it.

Toto was tense. I could see that it pissed him off, but his hands were tied. Marcus had money and influence, and Mercedes couldn’t afford to lose such an investor.

But I knew it wasn’t just about money. Toto was worried about me.

And he had every reason to be.

MIAMI GP, Afterparty

The victory was spectacular. Miami was buzzing, and the post-race afterparty was one of the biggest events of the season. Marcus was there. Of course, he was.

He had been watching me all evening. I could feel his eyes on me even when I wasn’t looking in his direction. And then it happened.

I stepped out onto the terrace, searching for a moment of respite from the crowd, when I felt his presence.

“Great race.” His voice was close—too close.

I turned around slowly.

“Thank you.”

“Still avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Then maybe you’ll finally admit that I intrigue you?”

I turned slowly.

“You don’t intrigue me, Marcus.”

A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

“Every woman gives in eventually.”

“I’m not every woman.”

And then he stepped closer.

“Let’s find out.”

He grabbed my wrist, leaning in dangerously close.

“Let me go.” I pulled away, but he only tightened his grip.

“Don’t be so tense, Miriell. We could have a great time.”

“I said: let go.”

I clenched my fists, ready to push him away, but suddenly, Marcus was yanked back with force. I barely had time to react before Toto was between us, standing in front of me like a shield, his face as hard as stone.

“Step away from her.”

Marcus adjusted his jacket, smirking slightly.

“What’s with the dramatic scene?”

“This is your warning.” Toto’s voice was cold and dangerous.

Marcus scoffed.

“You’re overreacting, Wolff. We were just talking.”

“Talking doesn’t require touching.”

Marcus glanced at me, then back at Toto.

“Ah… I see now.” He tilted his head. “Jealousy.”

“This is a warning.”

Marcus’ smile widened.

“You’d love to threaten me, but you can’t. You know what will happen if Mercedes loses my support.”

Toto didn’t move an inch.

“If you touch her again, no amount of money will save you.”

Marcus looked at me as if weighing his chances, but then he just smirked and stepped back.

“I didn’t expect you to be so delicate, Miriell.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd. I was left alone with Toto. He wasn’t looking at me. He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched.

“You didn’t have to,” I said quietly.

He looked at me.

“I did.”

Silence hung between us.

“I’m not a trophy,” I said after a moment.

Toto nodded.

“I know.”

He looked at me for another moment, then held out his hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I took his hand and felt the tension drain from me. Marcus might have had money, he might have had influence, but he didn’t have me. Though I knew this wasn’t over yet.

Men like him don’t give up easily.

---------------

NEXT -> 9. The Campaign

----------------

"I put my armor on, show you how strong I am."

Read the story here:

AO3 Unstoppable Series

Wattpad: Part1 I Part 2 I Part 3 | Part 4

🇵🇱 Dla Polskich czytelników [for Polish readers] [PL]:

Seria Niepowstrzymana AO3

Wattpad PL: Part1 I Part 2 I Part 3 | Part 4

===========

[heloflor]

Unpopular opinion: The ending of Mario Odyssey is amazing and one of the best Mario games endings.

First off, it’s hilarious. Between Mario being pushed out of the way, Peach low-key considering Bowser when he gives her flowers, Mario and Bowser fighting like idiots, their faces when Peach rejects them, Mario comforting Bowser, Peach trolling Mario with the Odyssey, Cappy and Tiara just watching the chaos unfold, all while there’s a music playing that doesn’t even sound like a Mario song... All of it is just so good!

Second, about the way Mario acts, it actually makes sense. Something random I noticed a while ago is that, when Mario and Bowser are shouldering each other, Bowser barely looks at Mario and remains focused on Peach, while Mario looks more pissed and glaces at him more than once. And in general, that’s the whole vibe of this scene. Bowser is still genuinely trying to court Peach, while Mario is instead fully focused on his rivalry with Bowser, completely forgetting to consider Peach’s feelings as a result. It was definitely a shitty move from Mario, but he’s not doing it to impress Peach, he’s doing it to one-up Bowser.

On that note, this scene is great because it helps in giving the headcanon of this game taking place very early on in the Mario timeline (or is that just me?), I’m talking a year and a half into Mario and Luigi being in this world. As a result, you could see Mario being a bit too caught up into the fantasy of being the hero saving the princess, and this game would give him a reality check. You could also imagine that, once they get back to the Mushroom Kingdom, he and Peach have a talk, basically starting their friendship all over again but this time on better terms, with Mario having no expectations of a romance and Peach being more open to him about who she is as a person rather than keeping up her royal appearances around him.

Third, I love that Peach is allowed to be angry at the situation. She has every right to say no. She doesn’t owe Mario a romantic relationship, especially when he’s acting exactly like her captor does. I especially like how we see her take a breath when she gets on the Odyssey before bringing her smile again. It shows that she’s still angry but willing to put it on the side for now.

This scene also shows what I talked about in previous posts with Peach being sassy in a playful way. It’s obvious she has no intentions of leaving Mario behind, but also she’s mad at him so she only calls for him after starting the Odyssey, forcing Mario to run and jump to get on. And she does it all with her usual smile, showing even more that it’s playful rather than petty.

Oh and for those worried about Bowser “being left behind”, he literally came to the Moon by airship, airship he spent the whole game in and that Mario never destroys in any way. He’ll be fine. I’ll be more concerned for all the kidnapped guests who have no way home and were inside the church when shit went down. Speaking of which, are the guests the characters looking at the Earth at the end? No because that also implies they don’t really have a way home unless the Toad Brigade helps them. Or the taxi.

[snzcaretaker]

❆ 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕞𝕟 𝕐𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕤 ❆

Reader insert. Reader is in the caretaking role, gender neutral. Sickie is male. Image Sources: Napkins | Glass

CW: Mess, and also cocaine use. This is a dark one, crosses into whump territory. Proceed with caution. Here is a link to SAMHSA, the US substance abuse hotline and resources.

He's a strung out business type in a fancy suit, hair slicked back, viciously charming. You're eyeing him across the glass table of the VIP booth at the back of a club. He's tapping out his neat little lines with a credit card, probably wants to impress you. Besides that, he needs the energy. He looks exhausted, and his $5k watch reads 3:30 AM. You don't really know what to say, but your heart rate spikes. He's in no condition to be doing this. "Stop. Wait - "

He doesn't, obviously. Just smiles in the most punchable way, like he enjoys being a bad boy in front of innocent do-gooders. But it's not that you're a do-gooder, it's that you're scared for him. He sniffs deeply while he rolls up a banknote, preparing his airways for the powder. It doesn't sound great. He's too tired, and congested, maybe even sick. You try again, you say you'll buy him another drink instead, that he should maybe just think about it for a minute, that this is not your idea of "cool." You dance on the edge of pissing him off, but he just ignores you and gives you another insufferable grin, daring you to try to physically stop him. Which you won't, of course - he's a grown man. But still.. "Please," you say.

No luck. He puts the roll to the table, lines up his nostril, and snorts. You can see the whole thing happening in a kind of slow motion, the way his nostril flares all the way up to the bridge of his nose. And then the way his whole face starts to quiver, a vein pulsing in his forehead, his cheeks suddenly flushing and eyes snapping closed. He fights it for a half a second, but it's a losing battle. A massive, desperate sneeze blows the other two lines to a scattered mess as his body rejects the foreign substance and cries out for relief.

"Goddammit! Do you know how much this shit costs?" There are tears in his eyes. "Fuck. Stings too." He screws up his face again, pinching the bridge of his nose. It's useless. A second sneeze erupts out of him, and then a third and fourth in quick succession, this time spraying the table. The glass doesn't look so pristine anymore. You pass him a napkin. "I - goddammit," he repeats, and buries his messy nose into it in resignation. He's fiercely flushed and you can't tell whether it's from embarrassment, from the distress he's just caused in his own sinuses, or from what little coke made it into his system.

The half-hit seems to only fuel his frustration. He balls up the napkin in his fist and stutters wordlessly until his breath starts hitching again and you pass him a fresh one. He has to blow his nose three times before it seems alright, but even then, he's still snuffling every few moments, trying to ease the pain.

He finally glances up at you, no longer smiling but instead frowning tremulously with exhaustion and misery. He can't meet your eyes for more than a split second. "Don't fucking look at me like that. I know, okay? I know." He chokes on the last word and buries his head in his hands. "What am I doing with my life..." he says, muffled and hopeless. You realize with alarm that he's about to cry, and scoot close enough to pull him into your arms. He's too tired to protest. He just curls against your chest, face pressed wetly against your neck. It's pathetic really, the way he's sobbing, nose running freely, unable to hold anything back. He seems to be talking in gasps about how empty his life is but you can't make out much of the words. Eventually, the tears quiet to sniffles.

"It's okay. I'm gonna call you a cab, okay? We'll get you home." He nods against you, rubs his irritated nose one last time into the collar of your shirt, and lets you rescue him.

[thehoodedsweater]

Since I’ve ranted about my OC Edward a lot here, I feel like I should explain how he would be if he was in the RGB cartoon!

I’m gonna yap so heads up lmao

First fact- Since Egon was made a blonde in the toon, I switched Edward to a brunette (even though he’s blonde in the main universe). Hair color switching is fun, and it also keeps his color palate from being too overwhelming! (This helps with Elizabeth too, since they’re siblings who are meant to look very much alike. Perhaps in one “Episode concept” they would attempt to switch identities and see who has the harder job.) Second- He has a tooth gap now. Just cause. I felt like it would be cute. It adds uniqueness for his expressions too. He also blushes a lot easier, for the sake of it being a toon.

Third- Since the toon seems to exaggerate/change their personalities a little, I made it so Edward’s anxiousness (and crushing on Egon if we’re gonna step into shipping territory) are heightened up to eleven. In the movie universe he’s a little anxious, sure (in the first movie he’s slightly anxious but relatively cheery and willing to help [think kind of like Louis, but not exactly], in the second movie he’s a lot more cynical and anxious due to going to law school and having to deal with the Ghostbusters again after five years [and the amount of trouble they get into]) but the toon would take it up a notch for the sake of comedy and plot. Fourth-He probably gets along with Peter just a little bit more? Due to the toon toning down Peter’s cynicism it makes for a different bond, other than the movie universe where Edward’s constantly at his throat for something stupid (for example, calling him “Eddie” and “Ed.”) In the toon world Edward would still be annoyed with him, but their bond is probably a lot closer than the movie universe. (Especially considering how long it would take for Edward and Peter to get along in it. They do care a lot, it just hides behind a TON of insults and banter. And unfortunately I’d imagine them leaving on pretty bad terms due to Edward leaving to the middle of nowhere [Summerville] without an explantation or leaving a note.)

Fifth-His cat, Kevin, would most likely be a reoccurring background character! Like Slimer, he probably runs around the firehouse and does his own stuff, he probably gets along with Slimer and that pisses Peter off.

Sixth-He would totally take the role of being a Ghostbuster at least once, like how Janine and Louis did. It was most likely because one was out sick/hurt and it causes a lot of chaos for Edward and his anxiety, as he volunteered without thinking to impress Egon. The “episode” idea I had was that Peter somehow got hurt and that resulted in him being unable to fight the ghosts, so Edward takes his place for the day. There’s a B plot of Peter having to do Edward’s “boring secretary work” with Janine, and by the end Edward gets his own Ghostbusters nametag (and maybe a kiss but idk) and the reassurance he did good. Just a wholesome little ending.

WOWWW THATS A LOT OF YAPPING (and I haven’t even STARTED on explaining what his role would be in the Extreme Ghostbusters cartoon..)

Uhm

hope you guys liked it? I know some of you seem to like my ocs and their story so I’m so glad to share it all with you! Thanks for all the support :))

and if you wanna hear more let me know!!

[mrhaitch]

Looks like I've been tagged in. Speaking as a published author who is still not completely out of the grips of writer's block, here are some things that I've found helped:

1) Write anything: most of the time the block is connected to a particular thing. This could be an ongoing project that's run aground, a medium you're used to working in but isn't clicking anymore, or a genre, or whatever. Step away from what isn't working and do something different: journaling, free writing, word association games, a list of people you feel have personally wronged you, a list of people you would like to personally wrong you - doesn't matter, just write something.

2) Read: this may seem obvious but it's often a neglected step (speaking from experience). If your usual isn't doing it for you right now, read something different. Google authors you respect and admire and see what books and authors inspired them. That's how I discovered a love for Richard Mattheson. Try to switch it up - pick up books of poetry, philosophy, history, try to find some topic or curiosity that piques your interest. All you're doing is priming the pump, or adding to your creative compost. You need more words, more metaphors, so glut yourself silly.

3) Stop writing, stop reading: sometimes you can exhaust yourself, and there's no sense in spinning your wheels if all you're succeeding in doing is pissing yourself off. Get up and leave the house. Take an unfamiliar route to somewhere you know. Wander, roam, take that short trip you always wondered about but could never justify. Feed yourself with new experiences and fresh sensory data.

4) There's always a reason: one method that usually helps me when I'm stuck is backtracking to where I got stuck. For my third novel, I wrote three separate first drafts, with each new iteration branching off from a previous one at a crucial plot point. I kept finding that I'd be tearing ahead, everything flowing nicely, until I suddenly ran out of road. It was like the characters had just uttered their lines during a rehearsal (as that's what a draft is, let's face it) and hit upon a scene, development, or line of dialogue they hated, and we're refusing to move on. No matter what I did I could feel them standing around, silently staring at me. It was only when I went back, found what wasn't working and changed it that things resumed their usual, blistering pace.

Even if it's not a block within a story, but a more general one, it pays to figure out what happened before the block started. Picking through that liminal moment can often help you to understand the nature of your block.

I'll use myself as an example: for my PhD I wrote a massive epic fantasy novel, plus a creative commentary, clocking in at around a quarter of a million words. I did nothing but work on my thesis - I ate, slept, drank, and breathed that book for nearly four years until it was suddenly done. Then I was showing it to my viva panel, who were impressed and encouraging, and approved my doctorate. Around that time I formed a casual friendship with a literary agent whose something of a legend within UK fantasy (no I won't name names), who worked with a lot of household names. He liked my work, has been hugely encouraging and supportive, but not enough to represent me.

Which formed a pattern. I have spent the past year or so submitting and querying agents, sometimes exchanging personal correspondence, getting past the initial stages and nothing has come of it yet. I've got prior publications, a lot of experience, and some modicum of talent - but it's still not working. I bump into old colleagues who are shocked to hear no one is biting, that my thesis remains unpublished.

I've been here before (five times to be exact) over the past ten years, and normally dust myself off and move to the next project. Since I finished the last draft of my thesis, I have yet to successfully complete anything: every novel or short story or essay I start writing eventually comes apart in my hands. I start to see the cracks and the seams in what I'm doing, the flaws, the insufficiencies. I convince myself I'm wasting my own time until I slow to a crawl, then stop altogether.

I've revisited all of this several times, and I'm slowly but surely picking up speed again. My problem has been entirely psychological, and much of it stemmed from an unexpected body blow of disappointment. What I've had to remind myself of is this:

Writing is largely about failure and your ability to respond to and process failure. A lot of people give up after their first disappointment. Some at their second. The ones that go the distance try again and again, and keep going despite the slim chances and the cumulative frustration. It may not be seamless progress - there may be weeks and months and even years where you can't write a single word - but so long as you keep that fire burning then it's never a second wasted.

I hope this helps.

Sorry if you’ve been asked this loads of times, I just wanted to pick your brain about something. Do you have any tips for dealing with writers’ block?

Been wanting to write but it just… won’t, y’know?

I've been asked this before, but I really don't suffer from writers' block. At least, in the 13/14 months since I've started writing, I never have. Certainly not in the way that other people have.

I tend to find that I can write in the most obscure and distracted circumstances, or at peace. As previously mentioned, most of my writing is done whilst I'm doing something else, like cooking dinner, or bopping a baby on my hip, or bath/naptime.

While I have moments where I'm not sure how to continue with a story, it's more of a matter of giving it time for the plotbunnies to work themselves out, over being unable to write as a craft (which feels like how 'writers block' is described).

So...I feel like I cannot truthfully answer this for you.

As such, I'm going to ask for a @mrhaitch reblog and input. I'm not saying I'm special or above it all or anything, but I won't lie to you and lay claim to a conundrum that I haven't suffered so far.

I tend to find that if I want to write, and feel too tired to, I savagely bully myself and then it flows right out 💀💀🫠

Love, and I'm sorry for my uselessness,

-- Haitch xxx

[jacksmusesdrv3]

...Can't imagine how that could happen, huh?

[unforgivablego]

I don't like how people after Comic Con continue to be unhappy. I mean, Neil gave us literally everything. That is, this is the best that he could provide nine months before the release of the S2. The content could've come out much later, I think around May when the official trailer comes out. But we were just given so much interesting cool information literally a year before the release and people just say that they don't like it.

I a little understand why people felt bad abot Neil because of the S1. Like there was no official confirmation of the relationship of the main characters. It meant that the cherished "I love you" didn't sound. Like, the second Sherlock, queerbaiting, Neil wants to get more audience using homo relationships that are so popular right now. But hey, Neil always said that AziCrow were in love. This was long before gay relationships in movies were the norm.

The book was published over 30 years ago. In the fucking book were so many hints of something between the main characters that I don’t understand why people even get pissed off. You don’t need to run far for an example, let’s take everyone’s favorite: “Just remember I’ll have known that, deep down inside, you were just enough of a bastard to be worth liking,” — which literally sounds like “you are a fool, but I love you / you gave your flaming sword to people and impressed me to the depths of the soul,” or when they hold hands, saying their last words to each other before they die, or “Come up with something or… or I’ll never talk to you again,” after which Crowley just stops damn time, because, of course not talking to an angel is much worse than death. Guys, the rest of the characters in the book think that they are together, people and angels, Shadwell generally calls them a couple of Southern pansies (thanks for correct me). “Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” — many also liked this moment. And that's not all there is. And the book was published in the 90s!

In the S1 were many new scenes built mainly on the development of their relationship. There were events that were not in the book at all, which were invented specifically for the series to diversify the concept of their "from enemies to lovers" canon. In the third series Neil gave us excerpts from different time periods, in which AziCrow gradually converge.

The most popular scene in 1941, when Crowley runs into the church to pull the angel out of the hands of the enemies, knowing full well that Aziraphale can do it himself at any moment. BUT NO, he like a real knight, runs to save his princess on the consecrated ground, which burns his legs and, most importantly, saves fucking angelic favorite books. “You are important to me, take the books that I saved at the cost of my own life,” — he doesn't say this, but hey, how obvious is it, especially after the words: “I don’t need you, I have lots of people to fraternize with, Angel,” he said in a fit of anger at the last meeting. He apologizes for 1862 and tries to say that he has no one but an angel. When they, a minute earlier, after so many years of quarreling, start such a stupid conversation about a name change:

“- Anthony?

- You don't like it?

- No, no. I don't say that. I'll get used to it”

Because there's nothing that Aziraphale couldn't get used to in Crowley. Despite the differences, they will always be together, they still have a whole life ahead to discuss it. This short, ridiculous conversation is actually very important. Here Crowley understands that Aziraphale in his: “I’ll get used to it,” — informs (yes, that’s the word) that they will see each other again and more than once, that this quarrel is not an obstacle to their relationship. And then Crowley says, very gently, “Lift home,” as if he knows for sure that the angel is okay with it. The only question is, whose home are you going to, Crowley? Since when do you have one concept of home for two?

The whole mess is completed by a freaking shot in which angel looks at Crowley in such a way that here only a stupid person will not understand what the heck he is thinking about. As the background color changes from gray to pinkish, the music, Crowley heroically leaves the frame and this damned love look after him, that the viewer just sits there thinking: "Oh, look at this blushing bastard — he is so in love." All that's missing is some romantic 40s song that starts off with something along the lines of "And I realized..." Because Aziraphale really realizes in this scene that his feelings are mutual. Somewhere someone wrote that in this scene Aziraphale doesn't fall in love with Crowley and I so much agree with this. In this scene, the angel is already in love, but before that he didn't know if Crowley could feel something in return, and the freaking “I don’t need you,” — in 1862 finished him off. He thought Crowley had someone to hang out with besides him, that Crowley doesn't need him. It hurt him. But Crowley had just walked into the church for only him and saved his books at the cost of his life. This is not a moment of awareness of his love, this is not "the princess fell in love with the prince who saved her from the dragon and they lived happily ever after." This is the moment when Aziraphale realizes that YES — he is loved in return.

And Crowley's “I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go”, in gratitude for holy water, in 1967. Crowley, you're sitting in a car right across from Aziraphale's shop. Where are you gonna take him? You planned to rob a church a stone's throw from the angel's house. “I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go”. To where?

Aziraphale also excelled just great: “No thanks. Perhaps one day we could go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz,” which definitely means, “One day we'll have a date and I'll let you do whatever you want, but not now”.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley,” — that he said in the end, leaves the viewer in a knockout. Because this phrase makes us understand that they have not been talking about friendship all this time. Here it is, the official confirmation of their love. Aziraphale gives him holy water, which means: “Despite everything, you are very important to me, I don't want to lose you, but I trust you”. He's trying to make sure Crowley knows he's loved. And Crowley understands, Crowley is used to speed and he takes the next step, but Aziraphale stops him: “Can you give me some time?”. Aziraphale is not ready, he just got here and hasn't yet got used to it. The phrase: “You go too fast for me,” sounds in most direct meaning — everything is developing too quickly, I can’t keep up with you, could you wait a little more? It finally hits me.

Fucking flirting in a scene in the Bastille during the French Revolution. Yes, then they still didn't have any definite understanding of what was happening, but I think in those years the atmosphere of the 18th century had a special influence. Debauchery, accessibility, openness and lack of shame in people. It seems to me that this was precisely what caused Aziraphale to flirt so openly and intricately. And of course the clothes. It was so seductive.

This is the best scene ever and I won't stop thinking that. What Michael as Aziraphale is doing here — OMG, his game should be banned from showing to kids because it's freaking so obscene it's embarrassing. The way he just lights up when he hears a familiar voice behind him, the way he pronounces his name, so joyfully, as if it weren't Crowley, but the She Goddes herself, who condescended to talking with a mere mortal. Angel, hello, Crowley just said about the cruelty of people, where did you swim, stop your vulgar thoughts and focus. The way Aziraphale scans him from head to toe, the way he sighs languidly, and then the phrase: “Oh... Good Lord,” said with such an expression as if Crowley had suddenly undressed in front of him. The short appraising looks that the angel gives him, as if Crowley is more sweeter than any pancake for which he swam the channel during the revolution (yes, we definitely believe you, Aziraphale) — these are the looks that are called undressing, here it is, in full physical incarnation. And the situation in which the angel allegedly fell. It's just not possible to describe how obvious it is on purpose. He's handcuffed in a local prison that definitely looks like a dragon's castle, waiting to be killed by the guillotine (isn't that romantic already?), dressed in his chicest outfit, even fucking changed his hair — for the first time in 5,000+ years! — and pretends to be very helpless, playing his standard: “I'm an angel”. He can literally snap his fingers and be home. But what does he do? He lets Crowley take care of him, creating a situation similar to rescuing a poor helpless princess from the tower, while portraying such affected and understandable innocence, as if he is not an angel, but a whore maiden who argues before losing her virginity. And why is he doing all this? Why do you think? Because at the end he just invites Crowley to bloody dinner. I fucking love this scene.

"You're my best friend" playing in the background as Crowley tries to find Aziraphale in the burned down bookshop. And the words: “You make me live, whenever this world is cruel to me,” — just aches in the heart. Even though the angel was wrong a thousand times (only because he tried to protect the two of them, sometimes out of stupidity, angelic naivety and a desire to do everything right — yes, they sometimes behave as stupidly, just like people), Crowley still considers him his closest person (?) (creature rather).

A small heart on Aziraphale's contact screensaver on his phone when Crowley can't get through (maybe an accident).

And then when he walks into a burning bookshop and breaks down for the first time in 6 episodes. He's really emotional in this scene. It's so unexpected that it's unnatural to see him like that. His voice is different, he no longer controls the tone and words, for the first time his walk tense, in this scene he cries, which has never happened before. Aziraphale is dead and Crowley feels and expresses as many emotions as he has never felt and expressed in all the 6,000 years that we have been shown. When Fredy goes into post-chorus in the background, I love that part so much. Did anyone even notice that in this scene he literally confesses his love? At the end, Crowley yells “Somebody killed my best friend!” — I can't, it's just heartbreaking.

“It's a big universe. Even if this all ends in a puddle of goo, we can go off together,” — I won't stop crying from now on, my heart shrinks every time (this is one of my favorite scenes, every word really hurts).

“I don't even like you!” — thrown by the angel for no clear purpose: to convince himself of this or to hurt Crowley. And Crowley's “You do!” in response, because, Aziraphale, who are you trying to fool. 6000 years together and you never once thought about to stop communicating. Potential enemies communicate with each other only in two cases: if they are ordered from Above, or if they themselves want it. Remind me when you received a request from the Heavenly Chancellery: "You must get close to the enemy in order to find out his insidious plans." Don't remember? No one remembers, because there was no such thing.

And when Crowley again offers to run away together in a couple of hours — YES! — Alpha Centauri — the best place to wait out the apocalypse, the main thing is not to forget my husband, otherwise he's not at all a person dear to me and in general we had a fight today, I strongly offended, but without him I won’t move a finger in the direction of escape. I'd rather die right here than start saving my carcass without this stupid feathered asshole.

Also don't forget about «holding hands» scene in a bus.

I’m not sure I have much time to end this digging.

And even this is not enough for people? The series not only improves the book and confirms their romantic line, but with the help of the actors and their wonderful performance, creates a masterpiece using gestures, facial expressions and removing innuendo, taking away the opportunity to imagine something left, allowing you to focus on what your eyes see.

Neil said three hundred times that this is a fucking love story. And people just shit in his canon and say: they didn’t say “I love you”, they don’t fuck, what kind of love is that, you're doing everything for popularity. Shut your fucking mouths! Neil is just tired of repeating endlessly that they are an angel and a demon, they are supernatural entities that do not fall within the framework of human relations. Their love is on another level. They are not gay because angels and demons are genderless, which means they have no gender (which also means they can choose their gender at will and change at will, as Crowley did). They are not asexual, because these concepts are invented also for people.

And you know what? Neil just spat in the faces of the fans with a fucking poster of the AziCrow standing in front of a fucking heart made of wings. “Here it is, just choke with this your's canon, here are both main characters against the background of the wrong organ which means love to you, and just try to say that this is not an official confirmation of their relationship.” He crumpled up a piece of shit that prevented him from living and smeared it all over our faces. “Eat,” he says, “I am a local Goddess here and have descended to give you food (for fanfiction). Don’t thank.”

Neil talked about how after the events of the proposed third season, they would move into a fucking cottage in the St. Downs and live together like fucking old husbands. He gave a nod to Crowley's already-acting move to Aziraphale's bookshop at Comic-Con, showing exactly that moment from S2 and no other. In a bloody interview after the panel, he revealed that this season is gonna be "quiet and gentle and romantic" compared to the first and hypothetically third season, and given that the show will have 2 kisses - just choke on fucking tears of happiness. He bombarded Tumblr with answers to leading questions, gave information about when the S2 would be released approximately, leaked new characters, a teaser, part of the plot, a concept photo and people like: we don’t like it. So what is wrong with you, guys? Because I believe that what we have is the best that could be, the best that we could have. And we got it for absolutely nothing.

Yes, golden potato jokes are funny, I wrote a couple myself. And kindly mocking Neil can be fun too, especially when we get the same thing in return. It's a relationship between the author and the fandom, and I really like it. But let's at least sometimes be understanding and patient. I don't like to watch other people's dissatisfaction knowing how much Neil has done for us. So I want you to don't forget about it too. No need to buzz about the teaser and video that we didn't get for Christmas. We all want to please Beelzebub with a tick in front of the task “Annoy Neil every day”, but can we show angelic patience? Neil knows what he's doing. Let's trust him.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hello, I love you. It is such a blessing to have readers like you.

1. The Postmaster-General pun came to me at like 3 AM and I was delighted at how well it explained both Yamamoto's competence at running an executive organization, but not a government and how a guy with no clan backing rallied an army and funds- Yamamoto got attacked as a postman by the clans, lost his patience, very literally went postal, and convinced his fellow postmen to join him.

Tsubaki is his first and only, and his deepest regret is fucking that up. Not just because she was the only person he ever experienced romantic love for, but in more practical terms, she was his co-commander, chief diplomat, sounding board and tbh did her honest half of the work founding and running soul society.

2. The Shihoin cat shape-shifting is an inherited trait- the Shihoin are cat people like Komamura is a wolf-person, but they all got cursed for poor behavior and largely lost the ability to use their cat forms and powers. The forbidden Kido Chika experimented with is them essentially prying up loose corners of the curse to get some of their abilities back. It's forbidden because it's a great way to piss off the Gods.

3. Kinroku is like if Capone had gotten operation paperclipped, and was instead consulted for his expertise in running a criminal organization to make the FBI better at enforcing the law. Kinroku is a man who knows what side his bread is buttered on, and makes the third division an incredible force against corruption. Honestly, he drafted most of the laws soul society operates under which is part of the reason it functioned as well as it did for so long. Definitely Yamamoto's beat hire.

4. Chigiri and Yachiru were friends before either of them got arrested because combat people need good medics and early medical research needed access to a lot of corpses to study. They've been friends for a long, long time.

5. Danjiro is 100% a have a beer and chill and very sympathetic to the poor kinda guy, and his big achievement as captain was getting major roads built all the way into the outermost districts, partly so the Gotei-13 could deploy At Speed and deal with warlords and hollows and wildfires etc. But once in place, the roads also served to level the economic playing field for a lot of the outer districts, opened up trade and really improved the overall quality of life for most people.

6. SHE SURE FUCKIN' DID. The Kuchiki hate to admit it, but the legendary speed and power of the Kuchiki captains all comes from her. She was such a robust and lively person she more or less saved the clan from genetic meltdown for almost a millennium.

7. Nobotsuna is a Kido master but more importantly, despite appearances he's quite a gentle soul and almost never gets truly angry or alarmed by other people's antics, so he's the IDEAL guy to have a chief psychopomp in a place where sometimes there are powerful and angry souls in line. Nobotsuna is such a weirdo he can match anyone's energy and then walk them back down, and he's such a goof he can make even the most frightened souls giggle.

8. Batsu'unsai however, was very much the administrative arm of the Kido Union and her skills as a financier ported over directly. She was also Not Above using her cleavage to distract people into signing on to agreements that were not necessarily in their best interests. I sorta ship her, Uhin and Nobotsuna in a poly triangle.

9. Entetsu takes a little while to come out of his shell properly, but the thing about him is that Entetsu used to be a travelling folk singer/handyman/rover and He Knows A Guy. Anything you might need done, he knows someone who is an expert at it, because he's travelled so much and met so many people and impressed them with his staunch ethics and beautiful voice that he can call them up and have them here tomorrow to fix this. He was the one to introduce Tsubaki to the rest of the dirty dozen, because he'd met her at the races last year, and she clearly knows How To Organize Things.

10. Otogawa does seem like a strange choice for any sort of commander given his terrible impulse control but: note that he invented a negative pressure pump. He's actually a genius but has the benign and near-sighted worldveiw of a lightly concussed duckling. A very Leonard of Quirm kinda guy, if you've ever read discworld. Otogawa got to be in charge of monitoring the living world because he was the guy who developed the first stable and reliable portals to and from the living world, as well as the technology to track the appearance of hollows when they emerge from the appendix dimension Las Noches is in.

11. Unohana is... A major natural disaster in her own right, yes, but she's not stupid. She's quite smart but uneducated and has ADHD so a moment of boredom can turn into a black depression in minutes so she's THRILLED to have the structure of marching orders and Yamamoto constantly giving her new things to play with.

To answer a timeline question someone else had: she had severely damaged her left lung in battle (possibly against Askin?), which is how the authorities were able to catch her in the first place. Chigiri is largely able to heal it... But listen Girl. If something happens to your left lung again, we're going to have to remove the whole thing and that'll fuck up your ability to fight so LEARN TO BLOCK.

And she does! She also learns how to read and command and do her own first aid and get pickier about her opponents and it goes really well until about a century later, when she's getting bored and is out quelling bandit activity in North 80 and unexpectedly gets into the fight of her life...

12. Uhin and Kinroku rapidly become friends through the shared commiserating of "I wouldn't be a gangster if the government actually worked". Also, every army ever in history steals each other's supplies. It's a good way to keep costs down AND fuck up your enemies. Amateurs think tactics, but wars are won and lost on Logistics. Uhin also was the co-commander of Danjiro's roadways project, and quite the gastronome, and passed the tradition of "good food, and lots of it" down to other 12th division captains, though this sometimes manifests in strange ways.

13. Actually I was thinking Sakahone smote that clan for trafficking, but I like your idea of "death cult" too- no reason it can't be both! Sakahone is a Kido guy first and foremost, and between his ridiculous power and the way he keeps failing to die means many of the others suspected that he was some kind of minor god that decided to get married and take up farming. Sakahone manages to live for an appallingly long time, all the way to his 2,222nd birthday before deciding he'd had enough and ended the short war with the Quincy in the 1800's by handing the post to his lieutenant, Jushiro Ukitake, and then exploding. Despite having two captains that look like they're on the verge of death, the 13th actually has some of the lowest employee turnover.

So, how exactly was the Gotei 13 formed in AEIWAM?

(The original gotei-13 captains might have canon genders but I'm going off vibes tbh.) (Here's a collection of Kubo's art of the original 13 so you can see what everyone looks like)

-----

It had started with the Clans.

Actually, it had started when Shigekuni Yamamoto was mugged for the fourth time in as many days, by agents of The Great Noble Houses, trying to influence the tide of their endless petty wars. You could hardly blame him for reacting as he did, somewhat literally blowing up with rage, and upon his return to his home office, rallying his fellow distraught men into a fighting force to stand up to the clans.

It had been quite a popular manuver for him, with the equally distraught and downtrodden citizens of the central rukongai threw their support behind him in short order. He was already well-known to them, and respected for his work. In a few short years, his meager forces had grown to rival the clans in power.

Then the Quincies had invaded the Spirit World, lead by some horrible creature known as Yhwach, seemingly Hell-Bent on conquest- which is where all of them would end up if The Archery Bastards kept shooting everything that moved and upended the balance between the worlds.

Now-General Shigekuni Yamamoto, the unfortunate bastard to whom the task of defending the largest city in the Spirit world from invasion had fallen, needed some muscle.

Why me, of all people? Surely there were others more qualified? He wondered, staring at the latest round of reports from the meager handful of his men that remained. Or perhaps everyone smart enough to actually do this is also smart enough to realize it was a lost cause and had thrown their lot in with one of the Noble Houses, and I am on a fool's errand.

Even just a handful of warriors with sufficient strength could break the leading edge of the Quincy line, and let the small army that remained slip behind them in to cut the Quincies off from their supply lines. It was just that breaking the wall of archers required at least a dozen of him.

"Word from lieutenant Sasakibe!" Shouted one of his soldiers, sprinting in the door and thrusting a letter at him. "Sorry sir I just remembered how important it was that you heard from him as soon as possible."

"You did as I asked." Yamamoto nodded, opening the letter. He had needed to stay- both to recover from his injuries and because if the Quincy got much closer, using Ryujin jakka to create a wall of fire around the city might be the only way to hold them off- and he had tasked Chojiro Sasakibe, his Longest and Dearest friend, with finding him the strongest warriors in Soul Society.

He took the scroll and opened it, reading the neat but excitably slanted handwriting within-

Dearest Shigekuni,

I am relieved to report I have found a dozen extremely powerful warriors per your request! I went on a hunch a friend of mine had, and found a concentration of MANY powerful warriors that would be willing to aid our cause, but twelve among them are particularly standout candidates. Given the rapid advance of the Quincy Army, I have included a teleportation spell to their location at the end of this scroll so you may meet them immediately.

"Incredible!" Yamamoto laughed. "Is there nothing this man cannot do?"

I do beg of you though- Please, reserve your judgement of them until you have seen their capacity.

"Ah." Yamamoto sighed. "...of course there's a catch."

Their circumstances are... complex, and this has made many of them rough and peculiar to speak to, but I swear we will not find better warriors, at least not before the Quincy advance reaches Seireitei.

I await your arrival, Chojiro

Yamamoto unfurled the scroll a bit more to see the edge of the teleportation spell that would activate when exposed to sunlight. "Sir?" asked the young soldier.

"It seems Sasakibe was successful in finding me the assistance we need, but they are apparently a queer lot." Yamamoto rumbled, thinking. "There is a teleportation spell- How close did you say the Advance was?"

"Not more than a week out, sir."

"Hopefully less than two hours then." he grunted, standing up and carrying the scroll to the courtyard of the building he operated from- it was a place used to the many comings and goings of a large and complex organization, though the little Shrine to the God of Messages and messengers had been somewhat neglected of late. Yamamoto took a moment to sweep the leaves out of the shrine and bowed to the statue within, thanking it for delivering Sasakibe's message and asking for help delivering him to his friend.

"Any orders while you're away, Sir?" The soldier asked.

"Someone clean out that shrine and make it a proper offering. The last thing we need is for communications to go down." The General nodded.

"Yes Sir!" the soldier saluted.

Yamamoto unfurled the scroll and with a flash, vanished from the courtyard.

---

With the same flash, he appeared somewhere... foggy.

"Shigekuni?" a familiarly crisp voice asked somewhere in the ether.

"Chojiro?" Yamamoto called back, and the vague shape that might have been a rock in front of him stood up, arms open. He laughed, and embraced his friend. "Good job! How did you find them so fast?"

Sasakibe's warm smile suddenly stiffened into a grimace. "...Promise you will not be angry?"

"Chojiro?" Yamamoto frowned.

"See, I was asking my friends- only the most trusted of them, I swear- how to even go about finding warriors with everything scattered to the wind of late, and well- One of them suggested that only things that are powerful are widely feared, so look where fearsome things are to find powerful ones."

Yamamoto squinted at his friend, then around them at the dense fog, the strange rocky cliff beside them, and the distant sound of angry voices.

"Chojiro." Yamamoto asked, hands on his shoulders. "Where are we?"

Sasakibe pointed up behind Yamamoto where characters had been carved into the stone cliff.

The Nest Of Maggots

"Chojiro."

"Yes, sir?"

"This is a prison."

"Yes, sir."

"This is a prison for the kind of filth that even the most bitterly factious clans agree is a danger to have wandering around. The kind that they already tried and failed to weaponize against each other. This is a prison for Monsters."

"...Yes, sir." Sasakibe sighed. "-But, is is not monsters we need?"

Yamamoto was silent for a time, thinking of the swathes of pointless destruction- salted fields and burnt villages- of the senseless loss of life- slaughtering soldier and civilian alike down to the last man, woman and child- of the cruel and twisted powers of the chosen favorites of Yhwach.

"Monsters to fight monsters." He shook his head. "What is this world coming to?" Yamamoto sighed.

Sasakibe looked away, unable to meet his friend's gaze. "Still, beggars can't be choosers." Yamamoto nodded. "Show them to me."

--- All twelve "Most Dangerous" of The Nest's prisoners had been herded together into something approximating a straight line in the middle of the rocky cavern that housed the prisoners here, though some of them were already beginning to meander, and one woman near the end of the line had, rather rudely, decided to remain seated in Yamamoto's presence. The lineup was... less than impressive. Two of the women looked like they belonged on pinup posters rather than death row. One of the men looked like a washed-up Sumo, another like an ashtray that had been cursed to roam the afterlife as a human. On one end of the line was an ancient and decrepit old man, and on the other was a- Yamamoto wasn't actually sure if they were a man or a woman, but in another life, they had definitely been a cat.

"These are the most powerful fighters in the Spirit World?"  He muttered to Chojiro.

"These are the most still-alive-est fighters in the Spirit World." Chojiro clarified.

"...Fuck it. " Yamamoto sighed under his breath, before stepping forward and addressing them properly.

"I am General Shigekuni Yamamoto of The Seireitei. I don't know how long you've been in this hole-" Yamamoto paused, sensing that something was off.

None of the Prisoners were looking at him. In fact, the all seemed very dedicated to looking everywhere but at him. Some were inspecting the stalactites, others were examining the grit on the cave floor, or staring into the metaphysical abyss somewhere just over his shoulder, and one man had pulled his very silly straw hat down in front of his face.

"-Alright, what the hell is going on?" Yamamoto growled.

There was a general unenthusiastic sort of shuffling and a distinct lack of answers.

"Remember everyone!" The man next to the cat-in-human-form spoke up while examining his fingernails. He looked more like an accountant than someone who belonged on Death Row, but the others perked up and paid attention. "-We are not to speak to any guards of visitors until our representative arrives and has given us permission to do so." The others nodded and resumed looking anywhere but at Yamamoto.

"...Representative?" Sasakibe lightly growled at a guard, whose complexion went from 'ashen' to 'deathly'.

"They um. Well. They've gotten rather close to one of the other prisoners, but she's no good in a fight, so we left her-" The Guard sputtered under Sasakibe's withering glare.

"-Miss Tsubaki was waiting at the Primary gate last I saw her." continued the man who looked like an accountant and that Yamamoto was becoming increasingly sure was armed, despite allegedly having been searched and denied any tools in his confinement. "...I say to no-one in particular." He added.

There was a moment of silence.

Yamamoto struck the tired-looking, gray-haired young woman beside the accountant, sending her stumbling back, but the accountant and the sturdily-built blonde man beside her stepped in to catch her, the rest of the line snapping to attention, eyes fixed on him with utter rage.

"Now that I have your attention-" Yamamoto started again, the gray-haired woman coughing as the sturdy blonde helped her back to her feet. "-As I was saying, the Spirit World is being invaded, and you're all being conscripted to-"

"Yachiru!" Snapped a young woman behind them.

Yamamoto turned to glare at the interloper, but instead found that the gaunt-looking woman that had remained seated had somehow apparently teleported and tackled Sasakibe to the wall behind them, one arm pressed to his throat, slowly choking him. Apparently-Yachiru's other hand had put some substantial holes in his abdomen and she paused from where she was about to stark licking Sasakibe's blood off her fingers to look at who had spoken.

"Don't eat that! You don't know where it's been!" Said a waifish young woman in threadbare prisoner's robes who could not have been taller than 4'10". She was quite striking, with large, dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a long aquiline nose. She took Yachiru's bloodied hand and dragged her back to the group. Yamamoto tried to keep his pace even as he walked over to check on Sasakibe, who immediately sat up and waved him off.

"...Thirsty." Grunted Yachiru- She might also have been beautiful, with her pale, round face and smooth black hair, were it not for the haunted, carnivorous look in her eye and her apparently literal bloodthirst. She stopped halfway back to the group to give a wet, hacking cough that made Yamamoto's skin crawl, and spat out a gob of bloody phlegm on the floor.

"You'll feel better when you get Minazuki back." the young woman reassured her, helping Yachiru sit back down, the others taking seats on the stone floor as well, in two neat lines behind her, the Human Cat behind one shoulder, the Accountant behind the other. "Is everyone else alright?"

"Kinroku definitely did not tell the guards to go get you." announced the man from behind his straw hat. "Also the mean old man hit Chigiri."

"I understand. Do you need assistance, Chigiri?

"The Old Goat has a sucker-punch like a rocket but I'll live." grunted Chigri, rubbing her abdomen and waving her hand interrogatively at Yachiru, who shrugged in reply.

"Despicable Behavior, hitting a medic." the human ashtray sniffed disapprovingly. Yamamoto could feel the Reiatsu of the group now, previously held in check, now starting to unfurl and growl and snarl at him.

"You BASTARDS-!" Yamamoto snarled, lunging towards the young woman, who instinctively made a fist in front of her chest, grabbed it with her other hand, and swung her whole body around, slamming her elbow into his eye socket and nose, and he stumbled, falling to his knees. It wasn't that hard a hit, not compared to what he was used to, but there was genuine killing intent behind it, much like the heel she struck into the side of his head, knocking him over the rest of the way in surprise. Miss Tsubaki's large, dark eyes were full of rage as she glared down at him, grinding his head into the floor under her toes. "Ah." He said, finally recognizing her from images in the intermittent news bulletins. Tsubaki was a middle daughter of one of the most powerful of the Noble Houses who had suddenly vanished from public view the year before. The rumor was that she had been imprisoned by her father for dangerous activities like 'Going Places' and 'Writing Letters' or even 'Having Opinions'. It was apparently true, but if she'd managed to organize the dirtiest dozen of the Maggot's Nest, he was beginning to understand her father's choice of internment. "Miss Tsunayashiro, I presume."

"I am her, and I am here in my capacity as their Union Representative. This means you do not talk to them. You talk to me." She lightly snarled, removing her surprisingly sharp-heeled foot from his temple and sitting seiza in front of the group. "Now what is it that you have brought us here to discuss?"

"Your friends are getting conscripted." he glared, slowly getting up and standing to address her. Returning the blow to a civilan, no matter who her family was or how hard she hit, was beneath either of their dignity, but a little looming was alright.

"We're getting hired." She corrected him. "With proper contracts and compensation."

"Shut up or else." He snarled, reconsidering the value of his dignity.

"...Or else what, exactly?" She asked.

Yamamoto bristled, and slowly drew his sword. Tsunayashiro's gaze flicked to the blade, following it's gleam as he brought it up to her throat, tipping her chin up with the point. "-Or you will all die right here." Tsubaki closed her eyes, sighed deeply and opened them again, gaze fixed on his. He could feel her pulse through Ryujin Jakka's blade.

...Steady as a rock.

"Alright." She spoke evenly. "Strike me down."

Yamamoto blinked.

"We are already on Death Row, General." She explained slowly as though speaking to an idiot. "None of us have families to speak of, or to speak to, for you to threaten. We're already cold and barely allowed to sleep and starving and in constant pain from broken bones or missing organs or untreated injuries. We are all already doomed to die or suffer gross abasement. You, however-"

She slowly stood up, neck sliding a bit on Ryujin Jakka's blade, drawing a trickle of blood.

"-I've been in here for the better part of a year, I believe, but news trickles in. Guards leave to replace soldiers fallen on the battlefield. Rations dwindle as farmland is overrun or destroyed. Political prisoners are freed and returned home as more popular heirs and scions are killed. You, General Shigekuini Yamamoto, need help with this war, and need it badly, to come here for it." Tsubaki continued, stepping forward and pressing a bit more into the blade, the trickle running more strongly, down her throat and into the folds of her thin Yukakta, staining the fabric bright red.

"So go on. Strike us down." She spoke softly. "Spare us the Humiliation of a Public execution or the horrors of a lobotomy, and doom yourself."

Yamamoto, quite possibly for the first time in his life, hesitated.

"If you cannot do that, sit down and negotiate like a civilized person." She said. The blood stained her entire breast now, but she did not flinch or waver.

Slowly, glaring and refusing to break eye contact, he withdrew his blade, wiped it down and sheathed it. Teeth gritted and heart unexpectedly racing, he sat. Lady Tsunayashiro followed, head still held high, though that may have been so Chigiri could lean forward and press a pad of torn robe to her throat, stemming the bleeding as she bandaged it, muttering curses.

"We're being invaded by an army of mutant humans called "Quincy" who can shoot arrows made of pure reishi, which can obliterate a soul entirely. They're lead by some monster called Yhwach, who seems hell-bent on conquering the entirety of the Living and Spirit worlds, and is apparently capable of killing small gods and Kami." Yamamoto explained, trying to stress the depth of the situation. He'd never been in a labor negotiation before, and was hoping they'd be more reasonable if he made an emotional appeal. "Kill enough of the archery bastards and live, and I'll have all your crimes pardoned."

"What a shame, what a shame." clucked the old man at the far end of the lines. "You young people just don't know how to handle things..."

"Hmmm..." The person who was definitely at least spiritually a cat pursed their lips. "Oh, uh- Chika Shihon." the bowed their head. "-It's a good start, but I'm gonna need a hell of a payday, seeing as nobody will hire an ex-criminal, even a pardoned one, and about forty more people need to die before my family will consider taking me back in."

"As well as some form of protection from political reprisals, or there won't be an opportunity to spend any of that payday." said Kinroku the Accountant, rubbing his nose like he was going to push up a pair of glasses he wasn't wearing.

"Paying criminals? Surely, you can't be serious!" Sasakibe scoffed.

"I am serious, and my name is Tsubaki, not Shirley." The representative quietly smirked at him. "Well, General? What price are you willing to offer for the salvation of all of Soul Society?"

"I want to see some proof before we talk price." Yamamoto glared at the Death Row From The Dumpster before him.

"Fair enough." Nodded Tsubaki, turning her head to address the group. "After me, who would you all say is the weakest fighter?"

The group considered this for a moment.

"Strongest is easy, its Yachiru, even with the missing lung." waved the pinup girl with the eyepatch and pigtails.

"Give Uhin some credit!" Protested the other pinup girl with the tits that were individually larger than her head.

"That's sweet of you to say Batsu-" Uhin the Giant in the back row laughed, patting the second girl's head. "-But also holy shit, no. Yachiru could disembowel me and strangle me with my own intestines before I could get off the mark! No offense little man, but I think it's Furuoki." He said, patting the straw hat of the man in front of him.

"Really?" Tits McGee pondered. "I was going to say Nobutsuna."

"I was gonna say me too." announced the human ashtray with a rough and reedy voice. "I hate fighting." "Yeah, but you hit like a fuckin' rockslide. Yeah, it's Furuoki." Agreed eyepatch.

"Mr. Otogawa-" Tsubaki addressed Furuoki the hat man. "-It's rather dark in here, would you please let in some light?"

Furuoki blinked at her, confused.

"Show the old man you can punch a hole in the ceiling." Yachiru translated for him, wetly.

"Okay!" Furuoki chirped happily, getting up and walking a few feet away.

"MORE!" yelled the group.

"Over by the guard tower!" Encouraged the large and rather jolly looking man, save for how he seemed to have lost both his lips and most of the front of his mouth, but had only bothered to replace his missing teeth with gold ones, giving him a permanent lipless grin.

Furuoki walked over towards the guard tower until the guards approached him and told him to back up, paced a bit until he found a suitable middle ground, and squinted up at the ceiling.

"Sir-" Sighed the head guard walking towards Furuoki as frowned at the ceiling. "Sir that's half a mile of solid rock and twelve different magical wards above you. It's not gonna work."

Furuoki instead dropped down on one knee, aimed, and-

A dazzling blue-green light and a noise like the roaring fires of Hell Itself erupted from his fist as he punched up towards the ceiling, vaporizing the stone above him and making all 12 wards chime and tinkle like glass as he broke through them. As the mushroom cloud of dust dispersed, sunlight began to filter in through the hole, at least 100 feet in diameter. The top third of the Guard tower seemed to have evaporated as well, and the guards were scrambling to try to control the panic.

"Is that enough?" Furuoki called.

"...Is it, General?" miss Tsubaki asked.

"...Ten Thousand Kan?" Yamamoto tried.

"That's fine dear, please come sit back down." Tsubaki waved.

"I am surprised, general." She smiled at Yamamoto in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of they way the post office cat would smile at the mice. "Ten Thousand Kan annually per individual is a very reasonable offer."

"A one-time payment of Ten thousand Kan to be split between the group." he growled.

"No." She shook he head. "You're offering us annual salaries, individually."

"The hell I am."

"Then we will enjoy watching the collapse of civilization through the new Skylight Furuoki made us." She replied, unconcerned. "You may have noticed, General, that there is a war on, and this is an exceptionally safe and secure place to be. Make it worth leaving."

"-Two minutes ago this was a frozen hellhole you were all starving in." he glared.

"Ah, but the view and property value has improved substantially in the last two minutes!" She smiled, unconcerned with his complaints. "There is no punishment you could mete out that is worse than remaining here, General, but you are not an advancing army of superhuman mutants, and there are MANY things the Quincy can do to us that are worse than remaining here. You are in a most unenviable position."

Yamamoto grimaced. "You're sure this is the best there is?" he muttered to Sasakibe.

"We could also try swearing loyalty to one noble house and hoping the other four don't try to kill us before the Quincy do." Sasakibe grunted, hand over the puncture wounds in his guts. "I don't like it either. but I like our other options even less."

Yamamoto sighed. "...Five thousand Kan Annually per individual."

"Ten thousand." replied Tsubaki.

"Seven thousand."

"Ten thousand."

"That's not how this is supposed to go." Yamamoto grumbled.

"And yet, this is how it's going." She smirked. "There is also the matter of the political protections!"

"DAMMIT!"

---

Half an hour later, terms had been reached.

Full pardons, Ten Thousand Kan, annually per individual (plus expenses), and political protections in the form of employing them as commanding officers on the condition that they "-Don't get killed, and prove you're smarter than a sack of hammers and at least half as useful."

"No for real, I'll forgive the old man the gut punch, lemme do something so you're not bleedin' all over my contract?" Chigiri sighed, watching Sasakibe write up the contracts.

"I'll trust my body to keep my guts on the right side of my skin over someone's dirty socks." he sighed. "Or do you have something else on hand?"

"Minazuki." Muttered Yachiru, leaning heavily on Chigiri.

"Oh right! I keep forgetting she does the fish thing." Chigiri perked up. "Yeah tell the guards to go get her sword, it turns into a... fuckin' whatsit, the big flat fish? Turns into one of those that can heal anything."

"Again, I trust my own faculties over any sort of Healing Halibut." Chojiro groaned.

"Stingray." Yachiru muttered, wheezing a bit. "Minazuki is a stingray."

"Alright, back in line everyone- I need you all to confirm your identities and what crimes you need pardoned, and to sign your contracts." Sasakibe sighed, standing up with the contracts and handing the first to Yamamoto.

"Shigekuni Yamamoto, Dereliction of duty and Mail-tampering, among other assorted sins." He said, smirking a bit at his own joke as he took the contract.

"Thank you sir." Sasakibe sighed, shuffling the pile of folders containing the files of the dozen criminals, and stepping up to the first one.

"Chika Shihon-" He read off, matching the drawn portrait to the person in front of him- Chika was a rather handsome young thing, with warm bronze skin and short, soft white hair. It was the gleam in their yellow eyes that made Sasakibe worry. "- Sentenced to lifetime imprisonment or death for staging a clan coup, twelve counts of fratricide and... dabbling in forbidden Kido?"

"Oh, like you've never had a family dinner that got out of control!" Chika huffed, indignant.

"I'm more curious about the Kido, actually." Yamamoto said, peering over his file.

Chika beamed and Sasakibe got as far as a choked "NOT HERE-!" before they vanished in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, they were still wearing the same excited expression, but now as a small white house cat.

Sasakibe and Yamamoto stared at the cat for a moment, then at each other in a mutual expression of I can't believe we've been reduced to asking these freaks for help.

"Well, when you've got thumbs again, please read your contract, then sign and initial all the indicated areas, and swipe your blood across the bottom." Sasakibe sighed, bending over to hand the kitty their contract. "Remember, these contracts are legally and magically binding. Betray us, and die immediately."

"Next is- Kinroku Izuhara-" Sasakibe was interrupted by one of guards appearing with the confiscated personal belongings of the prisoners, including an entire bundle of swords under his arm.

"I understand not giving us our weapons until the contracts are signed and the seal is placed upon us, but may I have my glasses back?" Kinroku asked, voice crisp and arch. He was certainly the least ragged-looking of the group, his graying hair still neatly trimmed and face clean-shaven.

Yamamoto held out a hand and the guard placed the appropriate glasses in his palm. "Trade you for whatever you have that's kept you so clean-shaven it's making my mustache itch." Yamamoto glared.

Kinroku smirked, and produced a piece of bone that had been exquisitely sharpened into a razor's edge.

"This is a human bone." Yamamoto observed.

"Unfortunately, poorer quality than the bones of pigs or cattle in terms of holding an edge, but it's done it's job." Kinrku nodded.

"...This says you're on death row for ...Tax Evasion?" Sasakibe glared at the file as the blade was traded for the glasses.

"Yes. I made an unfortunate miscalculation regarding the loyalty of my men, so I am glad you are taking adequate precautions." Kinroku muttered, cleaning his glasses on his robe, holding them up to the dim sunlight filtering through the hole, and frowning, disappointed.

"Men?" Yamamoto asked. "You've had experience commanding armed forces before?"

"After a fashion." he said, signing the contract and biting into his thumb to finish the deal. "You've heard of The Vipers of the southern reaches?"

"The decentralized bandit gang that disbanded a few years back? I thought their leader had died?" Sasakibe frowned.

Kinroku smirked at him.

"...Oh, for fuckssake." Sasakibe groaned.

"Chigiri Shijima." Yamamoto read off, having already moved on. "...What the hell kind of charge is Aggravated Medical Research?"

"Can't make an emergency field medicine manual omlette without breaking a few bones. And causing a few disembowelments. And poking out a few eyes." She explained.

Yamamoto slowly arched an eyebrow at her.

"I PUT 'EM ALL BACK!" Chigiri protested. "...Eventually."

"Read. Sign. Blood." Yamamoto sighed, handing her the contract.

"For real though, your man okay? I can have those stitched in under a minute." Chigiri pointed her thumb at Sasakibe.

"That's some fast-acting painkillers." Sasakibe noted.

"What painkillers?" Chigiri asked, genuinely confused.

"...I'll take my chances with the halibut." Sasakibe winced, turning to the next man in line. "Danjiro Obana?"

"Yeah!" Grinned the sturdy-looking blonde man, all smiles and friendliness now that an agreement had been reached. "Lookin' forward to workin' with you guys!"

"...Imprisoned for cannibalism?" Sasakibe asked, horrified.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" Danjiro hollered, voice echoing around the cavern.

"How do you accidentally consume human flesh?" Yamamoto glared.

"Well- okay it wasn't an 'accident' per se, but look, that Ise Clan guy locked me in the family mausoleum to die, and understandably, I got the munches, and the coffins were fulla, eh... post-sapient jerky?" Danjiro explained. "I really don't know what he expected to happen. Really surprised when he opened up the door a month later and I gut punched his spine out though. I don't regret that one bit."

"You know? That's fair." decided Sasakibe, handing him a contract. "Read, sign, blood."

"Yessir!" Danjiro saluted happily.

"Furufoshi Saito?" Yamamoto asked the young woman with the purple pigtails and eyepatch that was next in line.

"I DID NOT 'KIDNAP' HIM, HE'S MY HUSBAND AND THEY'RE ALL A BUNCH OF PRICKS!" She roared.

Yamamoto blinked at her, then leaned over to read "Accused of Abducting and 'Deflowering' the eldest son of the Kuchiki clan' on her file. "...Care to elaborate on that?"

"I found poor Kyoga-kun half-dead on my doortstep after the battle of River Bo- he still had spears in him, the poor thing! So like a sane and reasonable person I took him in and nursed the sweet thing back to heath and- well, a beautiful man in my bed, grateful to me for saving his life and offering me his eternal love and gratitude- How could a girl resist?" She sighed, hearts in her remaining eye.

"-and since I'd carried him over the threshold into my home we were basically married already, so it wasn't wrong of me to ride him like a pony or violate his warranty like that! He loved it! He loves ME! AND I LOVE HIM! It's just that the rest of the Kuchiki clan are a bunch of snobs with no sense of romance." She sighed, melancholy, then looked up at him, chewing her lip in nervousness. "...You haven't. heard anything about him?"

Yamamoto considered her story, and the few times he'd met Kyoga Kuchiki- a delicate young man with a sense of romantic grandeur and when he'd seen the boy recently, he had been lying facedown on the floor and sobbing, in quite some distress over being separated from his beloved-

"...Daddy Bear?" Yamamoto asked, bewildered.

"MY LITTLE BABY BEAR REMEMBERS ME!" She shrieked with joy, "Is he alright? I've been so worried, he still wasn't over that septic infection and the war keeps getting closer-" She demanded, grabbing Yamamoto by his Kosode and shaking him for answers.

"-As of last month, he was distraught over your absence, but otherwise hale. The sooner the Quincy are dead, the sooner you can see him again. Read, sign, blood." Yamamoto said, detangling himself from her and putting the contract between them.

"Ah, Ever-turbulent but true runs the course of Love." sighed the charred man beside her. "Nobotsuna Shigyo, at your service." he introduced himself, bowing politely.

"I'm Batsu'unsai Katori- We were arrested and imprisoned for roughly the same incident and it may help to be introduced at the same time." Said the woman with the exceptionally large breasts beside him. "Um, I'll need my glasses back too- Oh, thank you!"

"The sight of sunlight is so strange after such time." Mused Nobotsuna. "Even before our imprisonment, the Lady Katori and I were leaders of a secret underground society!"

"It was less of a society and more of a Polycule that got out of control-" Explained Batsu'unsai. "Once I discovered by spiritual powers, I moved in with the great sage Shou Dokutsu, and began hanging out with and then dating other people with spiritual powers and they started bringing their partners to my district and pretty soon there were so many of us that the easiest way to house everyone was to start developing the extensive underground cave systems in the area."

"We manufactured many fine magical artifacts, so called ourselves The Under-Wares!" Said Nobotsuna.

"We actually called ourselves The Kido Union, because in addition to the magical tools, we formed a united labor front to keep the clans from exploiting us." She explained, and Yamamoto began to understand her interruption.

"I am the wise Loremaster of our people!" Said Nobutsuna.

"He's a stablehand." Batsu'unsai smiled.

"But the clans did not like that they were no longer able to exploit and abuse us now that we had allied in great numbers, and war came to our peaceful nation of Shou's Hole!" he said, with genuine sadness.

Yamamoto and Sasakibe looked back at Batsu'unsai.

"It actually is called Shou's Hole." she sighed. "He just wanted it so badly."

"I wore them down!" Notbotsuna grinned.

"Still, the clans did not like that they now had to pay to have magical labor done and that we would outright refuse their more barbaric requests, and eventually I think it was the Shibas that mounted an all-out assault on us. Last I heard, most of the Union made it out through the other exits from the caves, but Dokutsu-san and most of our heavy hitters stayed at the primary entrance to buy time. Nobotsuna and I were the only ones to survive the assault, and Hiraku Shiba had us thrown in here." Batsu'unsai sighed.

"Prick." Spat Nobotsuna. "Oh sure, when a head of one of the so-called 'Noble' houses goes around decapitating people and burning them alive it's considered 'honorable combat' and 'keeping the peace', but when I, a man whose family tree isn't a fucking wreath of incest, retaliates in a decidedly less lethal fashion suddenly its 'treason' and 'making up a spell called Penis Blast is a war crime'!!"

"-What kind of blast?" asked Sasakibe.

"He can demonstrate it for us on The Archery Bastards. Read, sign, blood." Yamamoto said, thrusting contracts at them.

"Entetsu Kumoi." Read off Sasakibe as they came to the bald man who was nearly as wide as he was tall, with the exposed gold teeth. Entetsu looked up from where he'd finished putting his glasses back on and arranged his hairless brows into something that indicated that he'd be smiling politely if he had lips. "Imprisoned for your participation in the riot at the Windroad House, where you..." Sasakibe frowned at the file. "-Attacked and killed one hudred fifty-seven town guards with a brick, and mounted an assault on the local Dyamo?"

"Always morally correct, hittin' cops with bricks." Nodded Entetsu. "-Specially ones comin' t' kill just because some people are out havin' a good time, doin' no harm to no-one."

"The Windroad House is a Bar in the 3rd district famous for it's ah. Exotic. Cabaret performances." Sasakibe explained to Yamamoto, who didn't get out much.

"You were. At one of these performances?' Yamamoto asked.

"Ah, nah- just gotten off the job and had nipped down to the pub across th'way for a pint when I saw the pigs kick in the door an' start dragggin' the ladies out and I thought 'well that ain't right', so I started throwin' bricks until I were on me last brick and then I hunted them down wit' that last brick until there were none left." he explained. "Then I thinks, 'well, there's only none left until more come from the station', so's I made me way up the road to the station wit' me brick and had me a little hogslaughter up there too, see?"

"...And you just. kept going?" Sasakiba asked.

"So's I did! Right up to the head hog's trough, though by then it were well early in the mornin' and I were tired an' had some dozen spears in me back and me brick had fallen apart, so's I dinna get hims haunches fer ham." Entetsu sighed.

"Persistence! Very good quality in a captain!" Grinned Yamamoto, handing him the contract. "You know what to do by now."

They turned to the rather comely young man with the straw hat. "Furuoki, was it?" Yamamoto asked, feeling something that wasn't hopeful, per se, but these were strong people, and deeply insane and they were agreeing to help him, something that made his heart race with a delirious sort of mania.

"Yes. I am Furuoki Otogawa." he nodded.

"-And you're imprisoned here for- ecological terrorism, defiling holy a holy site and creating a dangerous magical device?" Sasakibe asked.

"What?" asked Yachiru, getting back to her feet and leaning heavily on him. "You told me you were in here for Jaywalking?"

"I thought I was?" Said Furuoki, frowning and tipping his head with confusion.

"It says here you constructed a device over the Tenjo no Ganbo waterfalls to, ah- 'suck up the carp in the pool at the base of the waterfall and launch them, at speed, up and over the waterfall'." Sasakibe read off and looked up to see Furuoki staring into the distance, eyes watering.

"They wanted to get to the lake at the top so badly they were swimming up the waterfall, but they kept falling down and getting hurt!" he sobbed, overcome with emotion. "I just made a chute to safely carry them to the top and gently toss them in the lake! how is that a crime?"

"-because when a carp makes it to the top of Tenjo no Ganbo falls, IT TURNS INTO A DRAGON! YOU MADE HUNDREDS OF DRAGONS SUDDENLY APPEAR! THOUSANDS BEFORE THEY COULD DISMANTLE THE DAMN THING!!" Sasakibe shouted.

"Ohhh." Furuoki said, nodding. "-I'd wondered where all the dragons had come from. I still don't see why that's a crime though?"

"Gods help us." Groaned Yamamoto.

"Dragons tend to be. Kinda destructive." Yachiru spoke slowly, her voice still rough and hollow-sounding. " 'specially to little villages."

"Oh." Furuoki said quietly, horrified.

"Don't worry, I'll deal with them once I get my lung back and bust outta this joint." Yachiru reassured him as Sasakibe handed Furuoki his contract.

"You wont be 'busting out' of anywhere, miss-" Sasakibe suffled the papers to open her file. "-Yachiru Unohana! You're obligated to serve General Yamamoto in exchange for your freedom, seeing as you're imprisoned for- for-"

Sasakibe froze, staring at the file. "-That has to be a Mistake."

"What?" Grunted Yamamoto, sizing the woman up. According to the group, if Furuoki who could rip this heavily fortified prison open like an ant's nest was their weakest fighter, this sickly-looking woman was their strongest.

"The file says she's imprisoned for killing ten thousand people!" babbled Sasakibe.

"Oh, no, that isn't right." grunted Yachiru, and Sasakibe sighed with relief.

"-Should be closer to twelve or fifteen thousand." She clarified, and Sasakibe went white.

"Read, sign, mark with your blood at the bottom." Yamamoto sighed, thrusting the contract at her.

"Uhhh... can't." She said, staring blankly at the contract, then slowly looking up at Yamamoto.

"What do you mean 'can't'?"  he growled.

"I can't read." she said.

Sasakibe hid his face in his hands, groaning with pain, while Yamamoto turned on his heel and threw his hands in the air, silently beseeching any available Gods for help.

"You get what you pay for, General." Called Chika, having changed back into the clothes they'd arrived in- garish red-orange and black ninja garb of the Shihon clan- and tying their sword back onto their gaudy belt.

"I am paying all of you a frankly OBSCENE amount of money, I don't think it's unreasonable to expect basic literacy!" Yamamoto snapped.

"It's okay girl, I'll read it to you and then you can have Minazuki back, okay?" Chigiri volunteered, wrapping an arm around her illiterate compatriot and walking her back to some seat-height rocks.

"Let's just get this over with." Yamamoto sighed, glaring at Tsubaki, who only smiled serenely back at him. "Uhin Zenjoji?"

"Present, sir." Beamed the enormous man who looked like a professional Sumo wrestler- there was fat, lots of it, but underneath, an unsettlingly steady grace and power to his movements.

"Your file says you're imprisoned for Smuggling, Murder, Bootlegging, Murder, Trafficking, Murder, More murder and... one hundred seventy two violations of The Migratory Bird Act?"

"The only two I will dispute are the trafficking and migratory bird charges-" he said, delicately holding up two fingers. "-firstly, it's not trafficking to move refugees from the clan wars out of danger without giving the aforementioned clans a cut. I'm no pimp."

"And the birds?" Yamamoto glared, intrigued more than anything.

"A man may have his hobbies and his charitable works!" Uhin said, touching his hand to his chest in faux-impassioned speech. "I collect and breed rare and endangered birds- the world would a sadder place without their songs. So I have- well, had- an aviary up in the mountains where they could be propagated in peace." Uhin sighed.

"Huh. Something nearly bordering on sanity." said Sasakibe said, offering Uhin his contract.

"Got any of them- whatsit- the big kicky bitches?" Danjiro asked.

"Cassowaries?" Uhin asked. "But of course! Delightful little creatures."

Yamamoto decided he didn't hear that, actually, and turned his attention to the final member of the dirty dozen.

"Hello young man!" the decrepit old man creaked cheerfully. "I am Saizo Sakahone." he was bald, liver-spotted, missing teeth and had a spine that bowed like a fishing rod with something much too large for the boat on the end of the line.

"Sakahone like the province?" asked Yamamoto, remembering the western area he'd traveled through recently.

"...In a manner of speaking, I suppose?" Saizo grinned. "Though it's rather the other way around- my lovely wife, may she rest in peace, managed to bear me no less than sixteen beautiful daughters, and they bore at least a dozen granddaughters and so on- Why, by my one thousand one hundred and eleventy-eth birthday, I had somewhere over fifty thousand descendants! So I am not so much named after the province, as the province is named after me!" he chucked.

"...by the Gods." marveled Sasakibe.

"Look, I love my sword too but at least I take it out of the scabbard sometimes." sighed Yamamoto. "What're you in for, family man?"

"O-ho! Now that was quite rash of me, I'm afraid. Yes-" Saizo nodded, rubbing his gnarled-oak hands. "-but as you say, I am a family man and there is nothing I despise so much as someone who does violence to children. No, no, nothing more vile in the world than that..."

Yamamoto felt Sasakibe go stiff beside him, and glanced over. Sasakibe tipped the file closer for his friend to read.

"-The total annihilation of the Uchimaki clan?" Yamamoto asked.

"I was born a shepherd, my boy. My people have been herding cattle over the hills of my province since there were cattle and hills to herd them over. When rot and madness like that turns up in a line- you need to cull backwards at least three generations or it'll set root and spread through your whole herd." he sighed. "What a shame, what a shame, but it had to be done, or they would have learned to turn a profit, treating children like that, and then we'd never be rid of it."

"I saw the crater. Half a mile deep and three times as wide." Said Yamamoto, mustache trembling. "I thought the wrath of the Gods themselves had descended upon them."

"Hm." Saizo nodded, jaw trembling a bit with palsy. "Hm, yes. That's what it felt like."

"Would you like to feel it again?" Yamamoto asked.

"No." Saizo shook his head, but slowly straightened up as much as he could- he must have been close to seven feet tall before the scoliosis set in- flexing his hands and rolling his neck, the power held withing that body starting to come off him in shimmering golden steam. "-but if that's what it takes for me to go home again, then I will be the tool of the Gods once more."

Yamamoto offered him the contract, and did not need to give him instructions.

Behind them, there was a quiet but extremely invasive wet noise and Yamamoto turned to see Unohana unsheath her... well, it lived in a scabbard but it was a muddy green and unusually gooey for a sword. Minazuki bubbled forth from her scabbard, trilling faintly as she solidified and formed into a mottled green cyclopean stingray, large enough to swallow a man, nuzzling at her human affectionately.

"Huh. She does seem to have an exceptionally intimate bond with her Zanpaktou..." Sasakibe noted, then flinched as Minazuki's mouth opened to reveal a fleshy interior of writhing tentacles and strange glands. Without hesitation, Unohana shed her prisoner's robe, which was apparently the and stepped inside to be swallowed with a sigh of relief.

"Very intimate!" grinned Chigiri at Sasakibe's shoulder. "My offer to stitch you up is still on the table, unless you want to develop a similarly intimate relationship with a fish."

"Never did care for seafood..." Sasakibe muttered.

"What about Tsubaki-san?" Furofushi frowned. "Where's her contract?"

"I came here for fighters." Yamamoto shook his head, turning to Tsubaki. "But you are right that The Maggot's Nest is a secure fortress in it's own right. The war is no place for a pri-"

He stopped, staring. Tsubaki had sat down and was rubbing her feet, fingers laced between her toes. She glanced up at him, then down at her feet, smirked, and sat back, wiggling her toes. "No, I agree, the front is no place for a Princess, but it is very much a place for a Diplomat, isn't it?" she asked.

Yamamoto blinked. "I have been thoroughly disinherited from any political position I may have inherited, so I am no princess." She explained, rolling her ankle with a smirk. "-and you are, if I may make an estimation based on my training as a Lady Of Society and now that all of our contracts are signed and bonded, terrible at negotiations."

Yamamoto shook himself, trying to pretend he hadn't been staring at her arches. "...I thought it went fine? Nobody lost a hand."

She smiled, and walked up beside him, lacing her arm with his and gently patting his hand. "My dear. If bookies had been allowed to lay bets on this encounter, the odds of me losing my head would have been considered a sure thing, and the odds on my being able to convince you to properly hire us and pay us, I agree, an 'obscene' amount of money so slim that anyone who took my side would now be a very rich idiot."

Yamamoto squinted at her, trying to translate that in his head.

"...You've conned me." He glared.

"Quite badly, I'm afraid." She smiled.

"You've conned me, but you can con say, that idiot that runs the Omeda clan or the obnoxious boy with the cock's comb that follows Yhwach around even worse." He tried.

Miss Tsubaki smiled, and laced her fingers with his.

"I'm going to have someone much smarter than me write up your contract." he nodded. "Sasakibe? Can you get us home in a-"

Yamamoto turned to see his friend, standing with his robe open while Chigiri knelt before him. Yamamoto blinked in bewilderment, and then realized the woman was stitching his wounds up at speed, her face close to his navel to focus on her work.

"...Hurry?" Yamamoto asked.

"Boss if I go any faster I'm gonna sew his bellybutton shut." Chirigi replied, not looking up.

"She is almost done, sir." Sasakibe winced. "Please don't interrupt her work?"

--- It took a good half hour to get everyone together to leave- clothes changed, signed out of the Maggot's nest and their custody turned over to Yamamoto, Nobotsuna trying to smuggle his "pet" Salamander out, several other prisoners saying tearful goodbyes to Tsubaki and her taking their information down 'for later', Minazuki trying to eat the salamander, and further mayhem while Sasakibe finished drawing the teleportation circle but soon they were lined up, and as the spell activated, Tsubaki gripped Yamamoto's arm rather firmly.

But in a flash, they were returned to Headquarters, Tsubaki blinking from the bright sun.

"General!" the soldier saluted. "Good to see you again! No news from the front, but we have received word the Shihon clan has made an alliance with the Fon clan as the advance approaches their homeland."

"HAH!" Shouted Chika. "Either cousin Genki pulled his head out of his ass or whatever cousin they're on now has good taste! Mingyan is a BABE and a half."

"Nice digs, very nice." Nodded Danjiro, looking around the courtyard. "...Looks really familiar for some reason. Never been to Seireitei, but I swear I've been in a building just like this?"

The other criminals looked around the courtyard, frowning and muttering about how it DID look familiar, and not at all like barracks.

There was a distressing hurgling sort of noise behind them and Minazuki spat out Yachiru Unohana, who tumbled out, nude and covered in slime. She rolled to the foot of the shrine, and sat up, blinking at the statue inside.

"Hey-" She called, voice still low and a rough but the hollow wetness had gone. "-Why's the military got a shrine to Yatagarasu?"

The others looked at the shrine and then around the building again. The orderly layout, the way the men were fit and professional but not precisely military, the extensive filing and sorting system visible through the open doors, Yamamoto's confession to Mail-tampering, the shrine to the Messenger of the Gods...

"You know, I did think it was rather strange that you were able to rally a small but apparently quite fast and very loyal army without the aid of any major clans." Tsubaki sighed. "How very industrious of you, Postmaster-General Yamamoto!"

[lastweeksshirttonight]

April is here and so is more looking back at the past ten seasons of Last Week Tonight. Wooo!

I'm going to aim to have Last Lee Tonight posted every week on Thursdays. Work is always a wrench in my plans but I'm pretty sure I can keep up that pace. They'll let me leave at some point right? hahaha help.

Now that the admin notes are out of the way, let's get cracking.

Last Lee Tonight (wherein John waited three episodes to dump music knowledge on us and honestly I'm impressed he waited that long) Season One, Episode Three

(original air date: 5/11/2014) Major topics covered: global warming; campaign finance and 2014 Senate political ads; Russia/Ukraine tensions

"History was made this week. ...Technically, history is made every week, that's kind of how history works."

We are still in that unique transitory period where John's team has figured out that longform segments are probably the way to go... but aren't really sure how to best utilize the rest of their show's time. The first two episodes were marked contrasts to each other structurally and were easier to compare. This third episode is all over the place, rushing through the first small segment on football, before covering a wide array of information and sources on Russian actions in around 8 minutes, which then gets us to our first main segment about ten minutes in. You can tell that the writers are still really trying to work out how to best structure their strange new show.

We start the episode talking about the first openly gay player in the NFL, Michael Sam, something I swear happened both earlier than and later than 2014. I fucking love that ESPN completely ignored the player in question's sexuality and just talked stats and genericisms. SPORTS!

We don't spend long there, as we move straight into discussing the present Ukranian/Russian tensions, first through the lens of Eurovision. I am truly shocked that John hasn't covered Eurovision every damn year, because it's the kind of overly theatrical camp nonsense he adores. We get a very Daily Show-esque bit where John grabs a paper way on the other side of his desk to quote Russia's entry, and it makes me sad that the audience barely registers it as a joke.

Also shit Conchita Wurst won Eurovision nearly ten years ago. I feel so fucking old.

Russia also recently annexed Crimea at the time, and John briefly covers the struggles Putin will have with the annexation. Putin is busy minting a two-pound commemorative coin over his 'victory', so we get a fake commercial for the "Worthless Desolate Landmass Commemorative Coin". This feels very much like a Bugle bit, complete with the satirical underpinning of acknowledging that Russia will actively make Crimeans' lives worse. And obviously Putin shirtless on a horse.

(I know that continually mentioning other things John has done that line up with these LWT bits probably seems a bit harsh or uncharitable, but LWT was clearly still trying to find a voice that wasn't cribbed from the two productions John was most associated with - to say nothing of the gigantic shadow The Colbert Report cast over every talking-head show in its wake. There's a lot of what I'd consider essential LWT that's been completely missing from these early episodes, from the common running gags of being a furry and shitting on his appearance, to a more unhinged level of social disruption and trolling, to even some of his linguistic choices - and that honestly makes sense. John has said multiple times that no one on the show had any idea what they were doing at this point, so why not pull from things that worked before?)

The first major story starts 10 minutes in, and regards campaign finance. The FEC has allowed bitcoin contributions to campaigns and jesus christ kill me now

Sorry. Campaign finance just innately pisses me off, and John gets me by basically saying "what else is left" while listing off all the campaign finance fuckery of the past few years at that time. I wish 2023 Me and 2023 John did not have to see what else was left.

John's joke about cribbing band names from the Kentucky Derby is gold. Tag yourself I'm California Chrome.

We get our first delightfully off impression of the series from John in this section - it's the rich evil Southern gentleman voice, in the form of Mitch McConnell threatening to kill people with a shovel over his love of coal. No amount of context will help me explain that better.

John also confirms that Mitch McConnell is not a homegrown Kentucky girl like his then-competitor, Alison Lundergan Grimes, by noting that "Politifact rates that true". I laughed so hard at that I had to pause. Please bring that gag back.

The Kentucky piece is overall worth watching, as it hits how campaign finance has influenced political advertising in ways directly detrimental to statewide and nationwide issues of import. The only part of this on YouTube is the capper, where John makes the most over-the-top and morally repugnant ads he can possibly think of. Trigger warning for gory violence including disembowelment, implied animal cruelty, and old man and middle-aged nudity. (Required note from this blog: it is not John Oliver nude. Fucking weirdoes, the lot of you [/j]) Link is here bc the video is, quite reasonably, age-restricted.

We now move to our very first "How Is This Still A Thing?", with the subject "Dressing Up as Other Races". Honestly no notes here, this segment came out the gate strong and basically in the same format it retains in the current day. (Seriously stop using other cultures as a costume.)

Finally, with five minutes left, we get to the segment Wikipedia thinks is the main one, on climate change. (The pacing of LWT Season One is a rollercoaster.) Global warming in 2014 threatens everything, yet 1 in 4 Americans think it doesn't exist. I would like to travel through time to scream at them and John thinks even talking about that kind of stat is fucking pointless. Bill Nye is brought on to have a statistically representative debate on the topic, which involves a random fuckload of people being on stage at once. I love the chaos but this is a very slim bit.

This was the weirdest episode to watch so far, I think. They took the lessons of the last episode and did attempt to apply them, but we aren't quite at the sweet spot of LWT pacing and structure yet. We'll get there eventually, I'm sure.

Random notes:

Lee obviously focuses on important things corner: After the absolute banger that was "red check pattern" last week, we return to neutral blue shirt and bubble-patterned navy tie. The unique tie elevates this to a 8/10 look, but one thing I cannot wait to get to is his "bold outfit choice" era of shit like silver suit and blue check shirt.

John describing bitcoin as something only "heroin dealers and assassins" use makes me yearn for the innocent time of 2014, when people were not trying to sell me every goddamn coin and ape doodle and metaverse on earth.

The YouTube team for this episode truly had no idea what to clip for this one. Their main segment doesn't have an authorized clip, and I don't know why they decided to take a 5 minute segment and make two clips out of it, an abbreviated version and a full version.

Speaking of weird shit on the LWT YouTube, have this 45 second bit of HBO selling the fuck out of their new show and John being obviously uncomfortable with it. However, in this clip he is, and I say this with a minimal amount of bias, hot as fuck. ("I'm no one's idea of a photogenic human being" SHUT UP MATE MY GOD)

I found this ad on their YouTube as well, which was very fun. Back when we expected some actual timely news discussion on LWT!