#Hastings Online Press

[rjdent]

Joe Fearn's review of the Poems & Fragments of Alcaeus, published in the Hastings Online Times:

Book details:

[tinydefector]

TINYYYYYYYYYY

Headcanon for human effect !!!!

Rodimus discovered how soft the ambassador is because once, they were in a meeting with UM and Megs about security protocols. Rodimus is bored a bit, so he tries to get the liaison's attention, in vain.

So he just... pokes them repeatedly in their side, because how else would he do that huh?

His digit dig a bit too much in their side, he can feel the warmth and the squishiness, and is surprise when they yelp and laugh.

"URGH!?- Rodimus! stop that it tickles hahaha!"

Oooooohh... ooh he has it baaaad... they just made the cutest noise he heard in a long time... he found their weak spot...

Megs and Mags just stare at him disappointed because the captain is unfocused and disturb the Ambassador.

Twisted ankle 13

Human effects Masterlist

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Word count: 2k

Warnings: post smut, getting walked in on.

_________________

The sound of shuffling and slight movement in the room is what makes the ambassador,  bleary eyes cracking open slightly as they take the form of a blue mech in. "Mmm Traxies?" They call out softly looking up from where they lay against Ratchet's chassis. 

Ratchet's optics online fractionally to see Traxies frozen mid-stride, jaw hanging open in blatant surprise. Drift stirred awake as well, arching a brow plate at youngling in undisguised amusement. 

Venting softly, Ratchet greeted their charge in familiar tones. "Good morning, Traxies. Causing trouble already, before the sun cycle?" Traxes gulped audibly, tripping over his pedes in haste to explain. "J-just wanted some energon, don't mind me! Uh - didn't mean to interrupt..." He trailed off, wide optics roving over the three in utter disbelief. 

Drift finally lost composure, snickering into his servo. Ratchet merely cycled a ventilation, serenely cradling the now-wakening ambassador. They pull their blanket closer in embarrassment being caught in such an undress state.

 Traxes cycled his optics rapidly, pedes rooted to the floor in awkward shock. "Uh, hey Ambassador. Fancy seeing you here..." He trailed off, field pulsing distressed embarrassment. Drift took pity, sending the younger mech. "Relax, kid. But you might want to be quick before this becomes anymore awkward for everyone”  

The medic frowned half-heartedly before turning a softer expression to Traxies. "I wasn't aware you would be back today." His tone is soft. Traxes shuffled awkwardly, kicking at imaginary scrapes on the floor. "So you - uh, fraggin' my friend now?" He blurted before wilting under Ratchet's stern glare. 

Drift howled laughter, drawing a foam pillow and lobbing it at the pouting youngling's helm. "Don't get your wires knotted! Go fuel up, we'll be along shortly." With a mumbled apology, Traxes beat a hasty retreat.

The Ambassador groans and presses their face into Ratchet chassis out of embarrassment. "Fuck" They mumble as the feeling Drift move to get out of berth. Their body felt like jelly and they truly didn't want to move, but knew they had to.  Ratchet's chassis hums beneath the ambassador's cheek. "There now, no harm done," the medic soothed gently. 

Drift stretched languidly as he rose, pausing to send them both fond smile. "He'll get over it. Ain't the first time that mechlet's walked in on more'n he bargained for." 

Ratchet rumbled a quiet chuckle, stroking their back with utmost care."Stay as long as you need." He whispered to them. They let out a sigh. "I've got work today Ratchet, Bridge command meeting about our next port and sending reports back to Cybertron. I think we might also be heading back to Cybertron. I don't look forward to having a holo meeting with Prowl again" they explain. 

Ratchet let out a theatrical groan at the Ambassador's words. "Primus spare us all from Prowl and his endless bureaucracy," he grumbled. 

Rising smoothly, he settled their draped guest against the berth with utmost care as he recovered their clothing and bag. "Well then, best get you ready, can't have you leaving looking a mess sweet thing." 

Drift poked his helm back in, wearing an impish grin. "Sounds like Ratch better patch you up right quick, Ambassador. Can't be limping through a vid call with Prowl looking like you spent the night trapped under this lugnut!" 

A rude gesture was the medic's only response, though his weathered faceplates crinkled with wry humour. "Scoot, you rusting gearstick - go make yourself useful." 

"Ratchet, Drift. Thank you for last night, it was lovely" they call to the two mechs before turning around with their clothing in hand to try and get dressed despite how sore they still are. 

“Pah, don't go getting all sappy now," Ratchet huffed, 

"Anytime you need a couple mechs to help...relax tensions," Drift coos only for Ratchet to swat the mech away, vents gusting irritation. But his optics shone with plain affection as they tracked the Drift's movements. "Take care on your travels and try not to let Prowl's do you in" 

Leaving the suite was a struggle, not wanting to get caught as they left. But walking down the halls with a slight limp was something they could easily state as twisting their ankle.

 Just as the ambassador rounded the corner, two familiar figures fell into step beside them - Nadia and Millian, matching grins stretching across their faces.

"Well well, look who finally decided to crawl out of bed," Nadia drawled archly, shamelessly raking her gaze over the ambassador's slightly dishevelled state. "Quite a night, hm?" 

Millian snickered, throwing an arm around their shoulders. "You dog! Spill the deets - whose bed were you warming, to work up such a limp?" Their smirk made clear they already guessed the culprits. 

Wincing, the ambassador tried to shrug them off with little success. "Nothing to tell. I'd prefer to keep my private business private, if you don't mind." 

But Nadia was having none of it, sidling close to share a conspicuous wink. "Ooh, getting cosy with the bot brass, are we? Can't say I blame you - they do know how to show a human a good time." 

Her grin widened at the ambassador's flustered face, taking their silence as confirmation enough. "Guys enough, I'm already in a  bad position if 'this' " they make a hand gesture at the two. "Gets out to Earth or Cybertron, it will be my neck in a noose so please don't" they try to settle the matter. They did enjoy chatting with Nadia and Millian but this was against regulation and if Megatron,  Rodimus or Ultra Magnus got whiff of it, it could mean their job on the Lost light.

Nadia and Millian sobered slightly at the ambassador's sombre tone, exchanging glances. "Alright, alright, we'll can it with the teasing," Nadia sighed, giving their arm a gentle squeeze. "You know we've got your back, yeah? No way would we see you in real trouble."

Millian nodded earnestly. "You're one of us, Ambassador - we look out for our own." Their grin returned, softer around the edges. "But hey, if anyone asks, you definitely did NOT just limp out of Ratchet's quarters. Cross my heart!" 

Nadia snickered, nudging them playfully. Her smile turned sincere as she studied their friend's tired yet peaceful expression. "And between us? I'm glad you found a little respite aboard this floating madhouse. We all need that, now and then."

"Thank you, I'll give you guys some details later but I do have a meeting with bridge command and I need to try and make it look like I didn't just crawl out of bed with two mechs" they mumble softly only for the two to give them a look of pure shock.

"Two?!" Millian echoes in a frankly scandalised yelp. Nadia elbows them sharply, making frantic shushing motions with her hands. 

"Keep it down, you idiot!" She hisses under her breath before turning back to the ambassador with gleaming eyes. "Well well, you little minx - getting cosy with both the medic and robo Samurai" Her grin is positively wolfish. 

concern shadows Millian’s gaze. "Just be careful, Ambassador. Fraternisation regs or no - getting tangled up with high command could spell trouble if word spreads." 

Nadia nods earnestly. "They're right. Not that we don't support you, but..." she fidgets, taking their hands, giving a gentle squeeze. 

"Both Ratchet and Drift made it clear they don't expect anything from me. offered if I need stress relief I was welcome. Plus Ratchet would rather know what I'm getting up to Incase he needs to perform medical on me" they whisper to them as the three walk towards the Ambassador's next stop.

"Hmm. Well that's reasonable enough, I suppose," Nadia muses pragmatically, though a glint of mischief remains in her eyes. "And who could resist the charms of those two mechs? You do have excellent taste, I'll give you that." 

Millian grin softens as they near the lift that will take the ambassador to their meeting. "Jokes aside, I'm glad you've found comfort here, weird ship though it is. Not the life any of us expected, but..." 

They shrugs amicably. "We make the most of what joys we can. And there are certainly perks to rubbing plating with the people in charge." A final wink, and Millian steps back with Nadia, offering a casual salute. 

"Knock 'em dead at the meeting, Ambassador. And try not to limp too obviously" they chuckle as the lift doors close. 

Megatron is sitting looking rather bored, but his optics light up when he sees the Ambassador a small smile graces his faceplate.  Magnus gives a small nod while Rodimus smiles like a fool waving before making his way towards them. "Hello Rodimus,  sorry I twisted my ankle earlier and it's not pleasant to walk" they chuckle softly hoping the lie passed over their helms without making them question how. 

Magnus merely nodded greeting, ever professional and stern. "Let us proceed with the agenda. Your tardiness sets us behind schedule." 

Rodimus, of course, could not be contained. "Oof, rough night? Happens to the best of us!" He moves towards them with a smile. "Ratchet patch you up okay?" 

Ultra Magnus sighed heavily. "Captain, please. We are in the midst of official proceedings." 

"I'm alright, Ratchet said it will be fine nothings broken, just going to be sore for a bit." They confirm to Rodimus as the mech picks them up and brings them to the table. Rodimus continues to let his servos and digits poke the Ambassador. Making them fidget. 

"Have we heard from Optimus if we have been requested to return to Cybertron, he was rather worried about Traxies, or if Galactica Union has asked for a new report on our recent travels?" They inquire dreading and hoping they didn't have to have another holo meeting with Prowl. 

Megatron studied the interplay with optics gleaming curiosity. " Captain, do cease your pestering the Liason." His field pulsed amusement as Rodimus reluctantly set the squirming human down. "To answer your query, Ambassador - I'm afraid your schedule remains as packed as ever. Word from Prime requests our return within the decacycle, and the Union demands their tedious status updates with predictable punctuality." 

Ultra Magnus nodded curt approval. "And Prowl as well, regarding the security details and records of the ship. He requires an immediate vid conference to...discuss developments." Rodimus groaned dramatically. "Ugh, leave it to Prowl to ruin a perfect morning. Why can't he just lurk in the shadows like Megs here and let us have our fun?" 

Megatron shoots Rodimus a glare but does make an effort to dignify Rodimus’ remark. "Ah sounds about right, I can't convince one of you to handle the Prowl meeting? I will happily deal with Optimus or the Galactica union, and take on extra work. Please" they nearly beg, only to yelp as Rodimus' digits run up their side  making them stiffen not expecting the contact. "Rodimus!"

Megatron observed with growing amusement as the small human squirmed fruitlessly in Rodimus's mischievous grasp. "Captain, tormenting them will not make their tasks any easier." 

He turned a gaze of singular intent upon Ultra Magnus. "I believe a request was made, Magnus. And as holders of far greater stamina and patience with the Enforcer, taking the meeting would be a small alleviation to your schedule, would it not?"

Magnus's field pulsed reluctance but duty compelled as expected. "Very well. As ranking officer, handling communication with Alliance High Command falls under my purview. I will handle Prowl at the scheduled time."

Rodimus whooped with glee, finally releasing the frazzled ambassador. "Looks like you're off the hook! Maybe you can help me with some more of those charts you were showing me last time so I can get better at reading them." He grinned down at them. 

They slowly lean back into Rodimus as they talk with Megatron and Ultra Magnus. "I'll make sure we are stocked for the trip back, do you need to organise anyone for the quantum generators maintenance?" The Ambassador asks, shuttering again as Rodimus continues to touch them.

Ultra Magnus cleared his intake, field broadcasting discomfort yet compelled as ever by duty. "I will see to ensuring all systems are fully prepped and operational for transit. Your role is coordination with our human team so they are set for a quantum jump, Ambassador."

Rodimus fairly purred against the human's back, appreciating how warm their smaller frame is against his. They are so soft and plush in his servos and primus he doesn't want to let go of them. 

____________

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[oncasette]

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

KINKTOBER ACT I, ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: 3.1k

“Your fucking muse? You ask. You shove the top photo directly in his face. It’s a picture of you in your underwear as seen through your bedroom window, hands in the process of unhooking your bra. 

“What can I say, baby. I told you I’d thought about this for a long time.”

or the one where ethan saves you from a creep after you lock yourself out of your dorm. or so you think.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, stalking, unprotected sex, dub-con, unsolicited pictures

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

Ethan hadn’t noticed you. At first. You’d had at least one class together every semester since freshman year, being in the same major and all, and yet it's taken him until now to take note of you. True, crude, unfiltered, awareness.

Sure, he’d known about you, the same way he knew about all the other girls on campus. He could match a face to a name and hold a casual conversation with you without feeling the need to ask the same three questions that always seem to be on the tip of everyone’s tongue. 

But now. Now, he knows you. He knows how you shift in your seat when you get called on to answer a question, despite the fact that you’d raised your hand in the first place, the lavender and mint of your shampoo that he could easily catch a whiff of if he leaned forward in his seat just ever so slightly, the way your skin prickles with goosebumps when you change into your pajamas after a shower–you should really learn to close your blinds, living on the second floor of your dorm complex and all. 

Your front door clicks shut before you think to check your pockets for your ID. 

“Shit,” you mumble as you jiggle the locked door handle. The only time you ever took it out of the pocket in your phone case was when you were trying to order something from the bookstore online and needed your student ID number, and, of course, you’d forgotten to stuff it back into the damn thing when you’d finished. 

“Locked out?” says a barely cognisant male voice from behind you. 

“Sorry?” you spit, spinning around in a huff in the wake of your disappointment. 

“Did you lock yourself out?” he asks again with a stifled laugh under his tone. You barely recognize the boy, only having stumbled past him once or twice in your haste to get back to your dorm to study. Figures that he’d end up being just across the hall from you. And much cuter up close. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you sputter, your immediate anger diffusing into slight annoyance. “Thought my ID was in my wallet, and as soon as I went to double check… you know.”

“Oh, yeah. Sucks when that happens,” he says. “‘S your roommate out?”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you have to remind yourself he’s just being polite. 

“She’s got class,” you swallow. He nods. You feel the need to elaborate. “O Chem.”

“You’ve got yourself a smarty pants on your hands, huh.” He steps closer and your breath hitches at the back of your throat. “Bet you’re smarter though.”

His mouth quirks as he boxes you in, back nearly pressed to the door of your room. “Oh, uh,” a dry chuckle. “I don’t know about that, she’s a pharmacy major and everything and all I do all day is learn about finances and the economy, so.”

Your neighbor had lost his sweet-boy charm in the few feet he’d breached, his jaw sharper and eyes darker in the fluorescence. 

“I’ve really gotta get going-”

“Without your key?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m meeting someone just downstairs and I can always just text my roommate to let me in later-” he cuts you off again. 

“I’m sure they can wait for a couple minutes,” he says. His aftershave burns your nostrils. 

“Look, I’m already running late-”

A voice you don’t recognize calls your name from down the hall. Your head snaps, alerted to the sound. Squinting your eyes, you try to identify your anonymous hero. 

“Hey,” the curly haired boy says as he approaches the two of you. “Are you ready to go yet? I tried texting when I got here, but I never got a response.”

“This is the friend you were waiting on?” the blond guy asks. He pulls his shoulders back, gaining back the inch he’d lost when he’d cornered you in. 

“Ethan,” the new boy sticks his hand out to shake the other guy’s hand, only to be met with a scoff as he shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Didn’t mention you were meeting up with your boyfriend,” he sneers. 

“First date,” you choke out with a dry throat, hoping that the notion of another guy in the picture would get him to leave you alone, and hating the fact that it was probably going to work. Ethan slides closer to you and you can feel your hands start to shake as the guy shakes his head in disappointment. 

“Whatever, man,” he says. He turns and scans into his room, leaving you to exhale a breath you’d been holding in tight. 

“He was interesting,” Ethan says, curls bouncing as spins to face you. 

Humming, you draw your lips together in a tight line. You watch as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as you thumb the wallet on the back of your phone case, subconsciously counting the cards there only to remember why you’d been stuck out in the hall in the first place. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks. 

“Well,” you start. “I was gonna go get some dinner, but with my ID being held hostage in my room…”

Ethan clears his throat before saying, “I, uh- I live on the next floor up if you wanted to hang out in my room until your roommate gets back.”

You’d think after the last guy had tried getting you into his place. 

“Yeah, you know what, sure. That’d be nice,” you shrug, offering him a tight lipped smile before he led you toward the open spiral stairwell in the complex that led to all of the floors. As the two of you make your short journey up the flight of stairs, Ethan can’t help but to ramble on about how he’d stumbled upon your predicament for the four minutes it takes to climb the stairs. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, swear to god, but he was just being so creepy, you know. I could hear him growling from the stairs,” he says once you reach the third floor. 

“No, I’m totally glad you were eavesdropping,” you laugh. Ethan holds his phone up to the door, unlocking it with the ID shoved into his wallet before holding it open for you to enter before him. 

“Chad’s at the Pike party right now, so make yourself comfortable wherever,” he says as he shrugs his zip-up off to toss over his desk chair leaving him in a black t-shirt hugging his biceps in a way that has you swallowing saliva. 

“Chad?” you ask. 

“My roommate.”

“Ah,” you hum, settling yourself in the middle of the room before Ethan pipes up again. 

“The left bed’s mine if you want to sit,” he offers. “Do you want something to drink?”

He’s got a plaid bedspread and probably navy sheets, but you climb up to sit on it nonetheless. 

“Sure, what you got?”

He lists off the few sodas they have, the case of Busch, and the single already opened bottle of water that’d been in there since they’d moved in. 

“I’ve got a case of seltzer in the fridge under my bed, too, if you want that,” he winces at his options. 

It’s a Friday night, what have you got to lose. “I’ll take a seltzer.” 

You try to ignore the way the hair on the back of your neck stands up as he moves closer, kneeling beside the bed to dig in the mini fridge stashed there. He comes back up with two cans in hand, extending one out for you to take from him. The can seems to condensate in the heat of your hand as soon as you grab it. 

Before you have a chance to pop the tab, Ethan climbs in beside you leaving a little less than a foot of distance between the two of you despite his twin being an XL. His knee bends until it knocks against yours with a soft sorry mumbled out but no attempt to move it. He opens his drink and haphazardly taps the top of it against your own unopened can with a, “Cheers.”

 “To?”

“Not being around that creep anymore?” he offers. 

Nodding, you open the can and tap it back against his, “Fucking cheers.”

Taking a sip, you wince. Your body had not been prepared for alcohol, and whatever seltzer he had sure tasted like a hell of a lot of it. It’s quiet for a while, the start of various questions and conversations settling on the tip of your tongue as try to quell the awkward silence that’s overtaken you. Ethan’s familiar in a way you’re not entirely sure how to grasp. Something about his presence has the back of your brain buzzing. When the can in your hand is nearly empty, you manage to get words out of your mouth. 

“Thanks for the help and everything, and really I mean, thank you, but how the fuck do you know me?” you finally settle on. “I mean you knew my name before you even came over and I just… you know?”

“We have stats together,” he says, stuttering and quirking the end of the statement into more a question than a declaration. Your brain seems to stutter for a second, trying and failing to place him. Until. 

“Right! Right, oh my god! You’re the cute guy that sits behind me,” you say seconds before slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Cute?” he asks.

“Unfortunately, very.”

“What’s so unfortunate about my cuteness?” His eyes grow hazier, more lidded. He shifts closer forcing your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. Tipping back the last of your drink, you crush the can out of habit and set it onto his nightstand. The already small counter space is cluttered with various trinkets and electronics before you can find a space to set your drink down. The polaroid camera catches your eye. 

“You have a polaroid?” you ask, leaning over further to snatch it off the edge and hold it up to your eye. He offers you a short hum in response. “What do you take pictures of?”

“I’ve got a specific muse,” he replies. 

“Care to share?” you ask as you lower the camera from your face only to find him much closer than you expected him to be. Closer than he had been just a moment ago, close enough to smell the cologne stuck to his shirt and see the faded pink of a scar against his jaw. He shakes his head slowly as he removes the camera from your limp fingers and places it back on the nightstand, tossing his own empty can onto the floor beside the bed. The way he leans forward has you leaning back. He leads you to drop your head back onto his pillow and your legs shift until you’re entirely situated beneath him. There’s still space between you, a couple inches at best, as his hands find solace beside your shoulders. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers and you feel your face heat up in response. 

“Thank you,” you reply, tongue dry. What was in the air tonight? You’d just been relieved from one guy trying to drag you into his bed only to be pushed into another. Still, with the way your heart was racing, you weren’t sure this situation was entirely the same. 

“You’re welcome,” he sighs. You can feel the way his hand twitches and flexes at your side. 

You’re not sure who makes the first move after that. One moment you’re laying there, noses nearly touching as his breath fans over your face, and the next his lips are on yours and his tongue is in your mouth. The hand that had been fluttering at your side now pressed hard into your waist, thumb pushing up the fabric of your top until it met bare skin. 

His name is hazy in your head. You barely conjure it up, having to filter through a couple variations of Edward and Eric and Elliot before you manage out a weak gasp of, “Ethan” against his lips. 

His hand continues to push up until your shirt has been bunched up at your chest. He pulled back just enough to be able to look at his handiwork. Your heaved as the edges of his fingers worked up under the wire of your bra. The chill of his hand left goosebumps in its wake. 

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion as he lifts you just enough to get your shirt up over your head and to unclasp the back of your bra, leaving you bare beneath him. Not for long, though, as he sits up fully and reaches up to tug his own shirt over his head seconds after he’s got yours tossed down to the floor. 

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he groans, palms flat against your ribs. 

“You think about me?” you ask, head quirked to the side as you try not to trace his abs with your tongue. Who knew the cute nerd in your stats class had all of this going on for him. 

“All the fucking time,” he says. It’s a comment that should have you running for the hills, logically, coming from a guy you barely know. A guy you don’t know. But he’s already got you half-dressed and in his bed and you can’t bring yourself to pull away. 

You hook your fingers into the hem of his sweats only for him to cover them with his own as you tug them down his legs. You do your best not to gape at the size of him. God, you think, is there any part of him you don’t want to lick? It takes him a second of shuffling and kicking, but as soon as his pants hit the floor his hands are back on you. 

“Condom?” you gasp. His right hand trails down your chest, your stomach, and you think he’s going to stop at the band of your leggings, but it keeps going until you can feel him cupping against your clothed pussy. He nods absentmindedly. Your hips jump as soon as his thumb presses into your clit. Even with the dull pressure, it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine. 

“Condom, Ethan, please,” you whine. 

“Fuck,” he says as he pulls himself from his daze. “You don’t want me to…” 

“No, please,” you whimper. “Want you.”

He throws open the drawer in his nightstand, leaving the contents open as he grabs an unopened box. The box tears–practically in half–and the three rolls land on your stomach. 

“Do you want me to get that for you?” you ask with a giggle. 

“No, fuck, no. I got it,” he grumbles, tearing a single condom off and pushing the rest onto the pile of clothes you’d conjured together. 

“You sure?” His hands are shaking as he finally rips open the package, but they seem to steady once he’s got it rolled down onto his cock. 

As soon as he’s got it on, though, he’s ripping your leggings down your legs. His thumb finds your clit again, barely ghosting over it in slow, tight circles as his free hand lines his dick up with your slit. 

“Christ, you’re tight,” he groans, just barely notching the head. He pushes in slowly, jaw clenched, head dropped against your shoulder until he’s bottomed out. You nearly sob when you feel his pelvis press against yours. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this full in your life. You’re a little surprised he hadn’t ripped you in half, if you’re being honest with yourself. 

He bites down on your shoulder as you feel his hips begin to pull back. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby, fuck,” he says. Where his thumb had stalled movement–not that you’d been able to really notice–it picks back up again, harder this time. Your eyes roll back in your head as Ethan’s mumblings pick up. So pretty, so perfect, better than I had imagined. 

He’s already pulsing inside of you, twitching against your walls as he begins to pick up speed. His teeth nip at the sides of your neck, likely leaving marks you’ll have a hell of a time explaining to your roommate later, and his tongue laves at your pulse point. 

Heat begins to build in your belly. It’s faster than you expected, a symptom of the alcohol, you think. 

“Ethan,” you whimper. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, eyes screwed tight as his pace begins to stutter. 

“I’m so close.”

“Already? ‘Ve just started with you,” he sighs as if he wasn’t about to break skin on your neck. 

“Please, please, I’m so close,” you beg. 

“Oh, god,” he seethes. “I’m gonna cum.”

You bring a hand up to brush his curls away from his forehead and a bead of sweat drips down the side of his face. 

“I want you to cum first,” he says. “Before I- before I do.”

With the way he’s working, you don’t think you’ve got much of a choice. Nodding, you bring your hand down to rest at the back of his neck, tugging his face down so that your lips met. You don’t even have time to warn him before you’re clamping down on him, pussy fluttering as your orgasm washes over you and leaves you hazy. Ethan’s hips stall at one final push in and you can feel the heat of his cum through the latex. 

He pulls back, pressing one brief final peck to your lips before he leans back enough to remove his softening cock from you, the both of you wincing as he does so. He mumbles a soft, “I know” as he goes, rolling the condom off and tying the end to toss it in the trashcan beside the nightstand. 

With an elongated sigh, he drops himself onto the bed beside you leaving you to shiver in the new chill hitting your bare skin.

You’re not even trying to snoop as you look around at his nightstand, eyes naturally gliding over the still open drawer of junk when the stack of pictures shoved in the corner catch your eye. It takes a second to really see what it is as the polaroids are covered in a thick translucent goop, but you can’t help but pick them up when it clicks in your brain. 

“What the fuck are these?” you gasp, holding them up enough for Ethan to look at them. 

“What?” he asks, still loopy from his orgasm. 

“Your fucking muse? You ask. You shove the top photo directly in his face. It’s a picture of you in your underwear as seen through your bedroom window, hands in the process of unhooking your bra. 

“What can I say, baby. I told you I’d thought about this for a long time.”

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 14)

{tw for coercion}

Even several days after Cillian had transferred the money into your account, you were still trying to process the fact that your brother's tuition was paid in full. You cried and ran through its every iteration, weeping, sobbing, moping around, because while you were grateful, you knew that you'd never be able to repay Cillian for this grand act of kindness. When you decided you were finally able to see him without bursting into tears, you figured the least you could do to show your appreciation was purchase him something from his favorite cafe.

You didn't want to ruin the surprise, so you scrolled through your contacts until you found someone you hadn't talked with since graduating secondary school. Cillian's mother quickly responded, sending you their address. Inputting it into an online map, you were pleasantly surprised to discover that he lived within walking distance. The true shock came when you finally arrived at his house.

You only recalled that stout, faded brick building on the same street as yours. You hadn't visited Cillian after he moved households, and now, as you stared at the grand structure, felt a pang of envy and rage, the latter at how he'd kept his luxurious lifestyle hidden. Suddenly, you felt insecure about offering a measly cake in thanks.

Nevertheless, you steeled your nerves and approached, not minding how an elderly neighbor eyed you with suspicion. Before knocking on the door, you pressed your collar down and smoothed your skirt. Your palms felt sweaty as you grabbed the knocker and released it, allowing it to pummel the door. Almost as if they'd been waiting, someone instantly opened it. She had the same set of eyes and shaped lips. She didn't quite have the same jaw or the same nose, but otherwise, she was the spitting image of Cillian.

"Y/N!" She pulled you into an embrace, quickly pulling away to tuck flyaway strands behind your ears. "It's so nice to see you again! Cillian's been looking forward to your visit all day."

You blinked, certain you'd told her your visit was intended as a surprise. "Thanks? Are you alright?"

Nodding, she seized your shoulders and ushered you inside, using a tender force to push you through the hallway and into the living room. In her haste, she jostled you around. The cake you'd packed to snack on jostled around in your arms. You stumbled into the foyer, gawking as she slammed the door shut.

Left alone, you traced each crystal hanging from the chandelier on the ceiling, the expensive decor. You hadn't been to Cillian's house since his family 'made it,' and now, you understood why. Cillian must've known that, instead of feeling comfort or recalling a fond memory from your childhood, you'd only feel like you didn't belong.

Another voice stirred the silence, somewhat warming you.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lee," you started, relieved at the sight of him. "Hey! I thought you would like this." You lifted the take-out bag to display the contents, but he tilted his head. "Got it from that cafe you love." 

"Why did you come here?" he bluntly asked.

Smile faltering, you stumbled over your words. "Do I need a reason?"

"Not at all," he breezily said. "It’s just… Nothing. Never mind. I'm happy you're here." Cillian stepped forward, and in the light you could see how his hair wasn't yet dried, causing his green locks to appear darker than they should be. "What happened?"

You half-heartedly smiled at him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. Even when he was dressed casually, with a simple black shirt and sweatpants, he eluded beauty and grace. You would have barely recognized that those were his home clothes. 

"I just brought you a cake to say thanks," you dryly said. "You still fine with me staying? Or should I leave?"

"Why would you leave?" Cillian marched towards you, seizing the bag. Then, setting it aside on the couch, he swept you into his arms. "I'd have to be insane to pass up time with my girl."

Shrieking, you laugh and beg him to put you down. When had he gotten so strong? He lifts you as if you're nothing, going against your wishes and spinning around, causing you to feel vertigo.

What had caused his spontaneous nature today? Usually, Cillian was stiff-faced and severe, dutifully maintaining his image. You didn't know, but you were pleasantly surprised by this hidden playful side. And of course, by how strong he was. Thrown over his shoulder, you felt some muscles you hadn't noticed before. You felt him moving, propelling you to some unknown destination, trailing down a long hall lined with dark oak tiles.

He tossed you onto his bed. Silky sheets billowed around you, temporarily engulfing the world. When they fell back against the mattress, you were startled to find Cillian kneeling over you, arms caging you in on either side.

"Hi," you stuttered, startled by his handsomeness at such proximity.

"Hi," he responded.

You counted the moments with each thud of your heart against your ribcage. One, two, three anxious flutters, then his lips were on yours, ravenous as he siphoned the breath from your lungs. Mind on overdrive, you tried returning his zeal, grabbing his collar for leverage. Your body tingled, but you ignored the strange pit forming in your stomach. Cillian's desires weren't odd. Neither was him acting on them. He was your boyfriend. You were going to have to get used to this sooner or later.

That was what you told yourself, but when his hand crept from your waist to the waistband of your jeans, you felt a sudden jolt of panic and seized his wrist, sheepishly grinning. When he looked up, his eyes lacked their usual sheen. Gulping, you quickly tried to set things straight. It wasn't that you didn't want him, too. Only...

"You don't think it's too soon?" You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. "I mean… We barely started dating. I don't know if—"

He answered your question with one of his own, sharply and slightly defensive. Huffing, "You trust me, don’t you?"

"Of course," you instantly confirmed, feeling your heart stutter.

"So just trust the timing," he replied, toying with the hem of your shirt. "It'd make me happy if you’ll just be good. I want us to enjoy each other."

The bedroom, dimly lit by the soft glow of a single bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with an electric charge as he guided you into his embrace. His lips crushed down on yours, devouring your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dominated yours, stilling your breath as he explored your mouth. Meanwhile, his hands roamed beneath your shirt, thumbs encircling your nipples.

"Please," you panted, head falling back to reveal more of your neck, abandoning any vestiges of shame. Your hands slipped into his hair, holding him against you. "Touch me."

He murmured in agreement, his breath hot against your skin and he undressed you painfully slow, pausing between articles to press open-mouthed kisses to the newly barred flesh. The soft rustle of fabric and the sound of your breath hitched in your throat filled the room as Cillian finally stripped you bare, save for your underwear. The glasses, he let you keep, too. He wanted you to see him.

"Do you want me to show you what to do?" He asked, his voice low and smooth. "Or do you want me to make you feel good first?"

Yuqing hesitated, her glasses slipping down her nose as she nervously met his gaze. That need to please him, to maintain the love she cherished, gnawed at her. But there was another truth, one she couldn't keep hidden any longer.

"I—I should tell you," you stammered, your eyes darting around the room, seeking something else to help anchor you to the moment. "You're not... you're not the first person I've been with. The first time wasn't that great, but I trust—"

The tension in the room tightened like a coiled snake as Cillian's expression faltered. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with an emotion that seemed to swim between hurt and anger. A silent storm raged behind his eyes as he processed her words, his initial shock quickly turning into a seething jealousy. The air in the room thickened, charged with tension as if a thunderstorm loomed overhead.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

"I've been with someone else before," you sheepishly admitted, quivering under the intensity of his stare.

"Is that so?" His face contorted with possessiveness. "Then let me try something first to see how he ruined you."

Sharply inhaling, you decided to take the plunge. Nodding, you stared at the ceiling, releasing an anxious huff when Cillian's pried your knees apart. Smoothly, he positioned himself between your legs. He tilted his head, nipping at her inner thigh. You felt a gust of warm breath and shivered as his teeth grazed your tender skin. Desperate for him, your hands threading through his hair, guiding him where you wanted him most. But Cillian was in control, and he resisted your attempt to direct him.

"Cillian," you choked out, voice wavering. "I've never done this. It feels weird."

"You'll be fine," he murmured. Hooking his fingers around the side of your panties, he tugged them off your hips, discarding the pair onto his bedside table. "I need to make sure your pretty little pussy is ready to take me."

His kisses trailed higher, over your hips, then back down the insides of your thighs. You whimpered at the lack of attention, and Cillian's eyes locked with yours, a devilish glint in his gaze. Finally, without warning, he lowered his head, his tongue flicking over your clit. You threaded your fingers through the sheets as he sucked and licked, an arm resting across your hips to keep you where he wanted, while the fingers on his other hand spread you open, allowing him to delve deeper.

Cillian whimpered and groaned, mindlessly muttering praise as he devoured you. Your hips bucked, grinding against his face, desperate to feel more, but Cillian took his time, exploring your hole with his tongue before pulling away with a raunchy smack. Lips glistening, he greeted you with a smile. You frowned, displeased at the lack of attention, but he didn't seem keen to allow that expression to remain for long.

"Ready, baby?"

Breathless, you began, "Ready for—"

His head dropped back between your legs. His mouth reattached to your clit. Groaning against you, Cillian inserted a finger into your tight hole, slowly easing you open, scissoring and curling agonizingly slow while he continued to suck and lick your clit, not even stopping while your legs began to quiver around his head. If anything, your reactions spurred his frenzy. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending you higher. He added a second finger, stretching her further, his tongue never ceasing its magic.

Cillian continued pounding his fingers into you, scissoring and curling until you released a moan, announcing that he'd found that spot that had you seeing stars with every thrust. Your mind was lost, your body convulsing as your release flowed over his fingers and mouth.

"That’s it, love," Cillian praised, his fingers never ceasing their motion, milking every last drop of pleasure from you. Grabbing your legs, Cillian tugged you back down so you were facing him. Momentarily, you were face to face with his wide smile. The sight of the lower half of his face glistening with your slickness caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over you. "Silly girl. I'm not done with you just yet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, your eyes widening as you felt his hard member pressing against your thigh.

"Need to feel that sweet cunt around my cock," Cillian said, positioning himself at your entrance. Teasingly, he rubbed the tip against the hole.

"Lee," you moaned. "Too sensitive. Let me suck you for now."

Too focused on your studies, you hadn't been with someone in such a long time. All of the attention he was giving you was overwhelming, touching you so eagerly, and in ways you'd never before experienced.

Instead of jumping at the offer, Cillian glared. "Did he teach you how to do that?" he demanded.

Meekly, you shook your head. "Wanna make you feel good, too."

Expression returning to his signature smile, he pressed his lips against yours. You tasted the remnants of yourself on him, saw yourself reflecting in his love-struck eyes. You'd never felt so desired. So wanted. He was desperate to have you, and you were ready to give and do anything for him in return.

"We can get to that later," he said. "For now, you'll take what I give you. Need to make you forget anyone else."

In your dazed state, it took you a moment to realize who he was talking about. When you realized, you flinched, a blush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. Cillian noticed your expression, and his nails pressed into the plump flesh of your thighs.

You whined, hips futilely rising to meet his. "Keep going, Lee. Please. Need you so bad."

You hoped your pleas would spur his hips into motion, but he continued, slopping thrusting into you. The lack of friction was driving you insane. Biting your lip, you permitted his teasing ministrations. Whatever jealous streak Cillian was going through, you'd just have to permit.

"But I need to know," he insisted, suddenly picking up the pace. He punctuated each word with a sharp snap of his hips, pounding into you. "I need to know everything he did to this so I can do it better and make you forget him completely."

"His name was…" you began, the words catching in your throat as he dragged his thick cock against your walls, slamming into a spot that had you seeing stars. "Cillian!" You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. You relented your grip on the sheets in favor of digging your nails into his skins

"Good girl, marking me up." Cillian's jaw clenched, but his hips continued moving at their languid pace, almost as if he were torturing you. "You're driving me crazy. So good for me." Save for his soft grunts and your moans, the only sounds filling the room was your sweat-slick skin against his as he picked up the pace, growing more frantic and rough as he chased his release. His voice grew less coherent with every thrust. "Gonna be my perfect girl and let me finish inside?" He pleaded, mouth falling to the crook of your neck, teeth sinking in. "Please, love. Wanna see my pretty doll stuffed with my cum. Wanna see it dripping out of you."

 Feeling a coil in your stomach, you squirmed, but he kept you pinned beneath him with a bruising hold, keeping you flush against him as thick, warm ropes of cum flooded your pussy. Vision blurred and mind suddenly clearer than ever, you lay there, staring at the clock against the wall as the room swam in and out of focus. Your body was a confusing mix of sensations, sore, yet strangely satisfied. With the sun dipping on the horizon, pale sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting eerie shadows.

You tried to move, but Cillian merely whined and pulled out, watching his cum spill out. He tried to scoop some up and prod your hole, but you hissed in protest, sharing your exhaustion. Almost mournfully, he relented: he had left no part of you untouched and still seemed keen to explore some more. Even then, he held fast to you, fingers tracing idle circles on your side, brushing aside the sweat-slick strands of your hair so he could view the marks he'd left on your neck.

You tried to ignore the tingling sensation where he had marked you and the numbness of your legs as he pulled you closer until your back was flush against his chest. Feeling his still-hard cock against your back, you couldn't help but shiver.

"Y/N," Cillian murmured, his voice suddenly tinged with a hint of remorse. It took you aback. You tried to turn and face him, but with a hand pressing down on your hip, he held you firmly in place. "I'm sorry if I acted odd. I just... I love you, you know? Always have. I just hate knowing that I didn't get to have you first. I don't like the idea of anyone else having you at all." He pressed a chaste kiss against your shoulder blade. You felt him rub his cock against you, felt him kneading the flesh of your ass. "So can I be the first to have you here?"

As you stared into Cillian's eyes, you felt the icy tendrils of your own destruction beginning to take root. You were thankful for everything he'd done so far, so it couldn't hurt...

It would, but you'd push through the pain with him wiping your tears, whispering sweet nothings as you finally gave him something no one else would ever steal from him, something that only he alone would have the chance to cherish.

this was my first time actually writing smut instead of only implying it so i'm sorry if it seems rushed/awkward/scattered 😅

[ohbo-ohno]

Opposites attract, that’s what they always say, right?

Johnny guesses that’s the reason why he has you, sweet, shy you.

You can’t stand the affection he tries to give you outside the comfort of your apartment. “It’s just a little kiss, bonnie!” He’d always whine, and you’d give him the briefest peck on the lips before turning away with a heated face.

It always made you get embarrassed and deny him your nudes, leaving him with the blurry pictures he’s taken in haste while your back was turned to use during deployments, but he ached to have your face in the pictures.

Of course Ghost knew. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut, being the whiny mutt he is. He had seen the pictures, saw just how much you shy from attention of any kind.

“Bring ‘em over.” It wasn’t an offer, it was an order.

When you were told you’d be meeting Johnny’s Lieutenant, one he can’t stop mentioning, how he’s a good man, you never expected this.

Kneeling at the feet of a man you’ve just met today, stripped bare with a thick collar preventing you from looking down or away from his heated gaze.

Johnny’s still in the room, you can feel it. Ghost had told him to “sit.” a while ago, and he hadn’t moved since. The thought of Johnny seeing you naked in front of a different man made you start to turn away, only to be met with a sharp tug to the leash sitting in Ghost’s hand.

“Eyes here, pup. Johnny’s not gonna help you through this lesson.” Ghost ordered, admittedly much gentler than he’d use with Johnny. He didn’t want to scare you off after your first lesson after all.

The second your eyes flicker up to meet Ghost’s for the briefest moment, his boot shifts to press between your legs, a low rumble of approval echoing through his chest. “That’s it, pup, eyes here.”

—

Also known as Simon fucking the social anxiety away AND gaining a new puppy! I am sorry for leaving something so long- I hope it’s okay!

oh my god i cant fucking breathe. the upside to being awkwardly open about my kinks online is getting fucking GIFTS like this in my inbox occasionally. you will never understand the things this ask makes me feel. oh my god. never apologize again for sending me this.

always thinking about johnny and his fwb. he's so so so excited, but he's also a fucking lot so his new girl isn't super willing to enter something Permanent, y'know? he's just maybe a bit much for her

but he's like. sick over this girl. his every thought is Her, he's literally hard nearly every moment they're together, like he is salivating over this girl. he made her his phone lockscreen and gets hard every time he checks the time now but he refuses to change it because she's just so perfect

and poor simon has to listen to have favorite (don't tell johnny) sergeant talk about this new girl constantly. i mean johnny just does not shut up about this girl. she's the most beautiful woman alive, perfect tits with a fat ass, thick thighs and a waist just so fucking grabbable. kissable - fuckable - lips and a cunt made of fucking gold, johnny just never shuts up

and it doesn't seem fair that the mutt gets to have all the fun, does it? ghost keeps johnny in line, drains him of all that restless energy so he's not feral when he's sent home. seems only fair that he gets to meet the pretty bird he hears johnny jack off to in the barracks and the shower

johnny's more than eager to agree. ghost says smth like "i wanna meet her" one of the dozens of times she's brought up and johnny practically falls all over himself to set up a date and time

and he definitely doesn't tell her. he invites her over to his flat (maybe even simon's, claims he moved), and his his tongue down her throat the moment she steps through the door. she's topless before simon even makes himself known

it's not so hard to convince her to have a threesome, it's far harder to convince her to put on a posture collar and kneel pretty. johnny' a good puppy (for once) and leads by example though, strips himself completely naked and follows ghost's orders better than he ever has (he'll get plenty of treats later, as long as he can keep himself in check)

you think this is just lead up to some kinky sex, ghost and soap see this as the first night of the rest of your life. ghost is fucking strict, and harsh, but he knows the importance of good training with unruly dogs, and if anything johnny's told him is accurate, he already knows you'll be a handful. he's got to be harsh and strict with johnny this first night too, so you can see that he's not going to soften up (even though he probably will)

anyways, there's no way you're leaving this night without ghost painting your ass red. you'll also probably wake up the next morning with your leash tied to the bedpost, right below johnny's. only one of you is going to be happy about this

[dontsh0vethesun]

emily prentiss x reader, jealous emily pls?

revelations

masterlist | request info

18+ : smut; fingering, office sex, choking, degradation, hint of praise, possessive and jealous emily asf, she's also a bit patronising at one point but in a sexy way

(pictured her in the white shirt and then the other pic is BEEF)

a/n - idk if smut is what you wanted but i'm a slut so

You'd been counting down the hours today, just watching the ticking of the clock over boring paperwork and hoping the mundane isn’t interrupted with a case to spoil your evening. 

And you were in luck because the hour struck and the calmness stayed and papers were stacked throughout the bullpen, chairs rolled out and coats pulled over shoulders with chatter about evening plans. 

“What about you, Y/N/N? Ready for your hot date?” JJ asked you, perching on the side of your desk with her bag looped over her arm.

“I don’t know about hot but I suppose so yeah.” You laughed. 

“Finally getting on the online dating scene huh?” Derek smirked and you rolled your eyes. Emily’s ears perked up at his words from her office, immediately her jaw clenched and her pen slammed onto her desk. She pushed her chair out from behind her before heading to the door, listening in on the rest of the conversation. 

“I thought I could see what it’s about. Maybe show that I have more game than you, Morgan.” You added smugly to which he feigned deep hurt as JJ giggled.

“Confident words, I like it.”

“Well, I’ve gotta run home to change so I have to-“

“Y/L/N.” Emily called from where she leant against the doorframe. “I need to go over something with you before you go home for the night.”

“Em, can’t it wait until the morning? I’m already running late an-“

“Now, please.” She interrupted and the three of you shared a look when you saw her turn back into her office. 

“Have fun.” JJ whispered as she left, chuckling with Derek at the annoyance on your face. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked her when you walked into her office, she was leaning against her desk with her arms folded over her chest and an aggravated look on her face. She only looked at you, stepping over to you to lean behind you to shut the door before guiding you backwards into it. “Emily, what are you doing?” You breathed, barely able to get the words out with how close her body was to yours,

“Tell them you're not going.” She muttered with her body pressed against yours, reaching into your pocket for your phone and holding it out to you. 

“What?”

“Message whoever it is you’re meeting and tell them that something came up.” 

The way she uttered the words left no room for you to disobey, your thumbs nervously tapped at the screen under her gaze and she didn’t wait for you to be done before her hands grabbed onto your waist. She discarded your phone on the way, roughly guiding you backwards until the back of your thighs hit into her desk.

Lips pushed into yours roughly and without warning, stunning you for a moment until the feeling sunk in. The feeling of the woman you’d secretly harboured a crush on for far too long finally closing the space between you. 

It wasn’t the gentle and sweet first kiss you’d imagined, it was carnal and possessive, with haste and tugs of your bottom lip between her teeth. You could taste the remnants of cinnamon gum on her tongue when it licked into your mouth, pushing against yours strongly whilst one of your hands got lost in her hair, the other grasping at her back to pull her ever closer.

Her hands were just as strong as you’d have guessed when they grabbed onto the side of your thighs where you sat on her desk, squeezing roughly at the flesh as her lips ghosted across your skin, kisses along your jaw and onto your neck.

Her tongue licked over your neck with a suck at the skin over your quickening pulse, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh in a way that made you wince, making sure to leave her mark behind. You pushed her blazer past her shoulders letting it drop to the floor, feeling her toned arms beneath your palms with her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“You belong to me - no one else can have you.” She rasped, such possessive words uttered with her lips against the shell of your ear and her breath warm on your neck. “Guess I should’ve known a slut like you would find some stranger to fuck.” 

The way she hissed the phrase through gritted teeth made your head spin and the way she pulled your shirt from your body just made you melt. She truly had you in the palm of her hand, a harsh bite of her teeth into your collarbone and a hand on the side of your neck when your head tilted backwards.

Her thumb pushed onto your throat and she smirked against you at the way you whimpered, it only spurred her on. 

“You want me, hm? Want me to fuck you on this desk like the needy little thing you are?” 

“Fuck, yes. Emily, please.” You didn’t care how pathetic you might sound, all you could think about was the ache between your thighs and the fingers tugging at the button of your trousers. Her pink lips and darkened eyes, looking down at you intently, watching each and every reaction for her own entertainment. 

“You’re so wet, baby.” She spoke, teasing a finger through your folds, groaning at how soaked you were. “Is this what I do to you, hm? Poor baby, so needy - so desperate.”

She mocked you with a smirk, sliding two fingers into your pussy painfully slowly as you unbuttoned her shirt, marvelling at the soft skin of her chest, breasts spilling out of the top of her lacey red bra. You’d longed for this, to press your lips against the skin you’d wished to see, to hear her sigh in pleasure at the hand that squeezed at her breast beneath the material, pinching sensitive nipples much to her delight.

You’d always wondered how it’d feel to suck at the flesh of her chest, to leave a pink mark behind as a memento of where you’d been. To hear her praise of you being a ‘good girl’ when you rolled a nipple between your fingers deliciously and how it’d feel to have her digits curling into your cunt. 

To have her thumb drawing circles over your clit so deliciously, making your hips buck into her hand and your belly tighten with pleasure. 

You could hear the sounds of your own arousal with each thrust of her fingers burying into you, perfected motions, perfect precision as she brought you closer and closer to the edge with your cheeks flushing hot and your laboured breathing finding it tricky to muffle the moans at the back of your throat. 

Emily could feel you clenching around her, wetness dripping down her svelte fingers and she claimed your lips in a firm kiss to keep you quiet - away from any prying ears of any colleagues still milling about the bullpen. The kiss was sloppy, rushed yet passionate, a hunger not there before; your hand scrunched in her hair as you came onto her fingers. God, the way you moaned into her mouth just made Emily need you more, she’d always wondered how you’d sound. 

She pulled away with a bite to your lip, harsh enough to leave a faint taste of metal behind but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with the way she’d made you feel, still coming down from your high as she looked at you with parted lips and hooded eyes. She looked ravenous, positively starving, you’d given her a taste of what she could have and now she needed more. 

Her fingers pushed past your lips, hooking around your teeth as you sucked them into your mouth. She wouldn’t let your eyes unfocus from hers as you licked them clean of your own taste, holding onto her exposed waist while her free hand rested on your thigh. 

“You’re coming back to my apartment.” She stated, immediately buttoning her shirt and motioning for you to do the same.

If you’ve learned one thing tonight it’s that the green of envy is her perfect shade.

[dark-elf-writes]

Wait… would Harry meet Hermione early given that she's a child of Athena? Going to New York to Camp…

Hermione would be more terrifying then canon with big sister Annabeth

Hermione who has always been the girl who saw too much who knew too much. A know it all and a crazy who saw things no one else did. Who is found by a satyr young and while they want to give her a chance at being a normal kid a chance attack sends them running.

(Her parents take the idea of camp better than she thought they would. It aches that they don’t fight for her to stay with them. Aches that they seem to have already forgotten her yet again.)

She is scared and trying desperately not to be when she reaches camp. Her brave face doesn’t last long when she is claimed and finds out she has siblings who take her in with open arms.

She meets Harry in the morning of her first full day there, as he races down the hill with a laughing blond man in tow. He nearly trips over her in his haste to reach the Big House if another man didn’t step from the shadows to snatch him, breathless and laughing, up and away from the near collision.

“Shadow travel is cheating!” Harry had laughed through a pout he can’t quite keep in place even as the blond man jogs up to press his palm to the big house.

The shadow man tips his head with a smile. “Can’t cheat if I wasn’t playing.”

Hermione feels the crawling of something hot and gross in her chest. Feels her hands shaking and her eyes burning. Feels—

A hand drops to her shoulder. “Hey,” Malcom, the oldest of her siblings in camp who was apparently working on a business degree online so he could help with the camp’s front of a berry farm, calls to the newcomers with a grin. “Come meet our newest camper!”

Harry had looked at her and beamed like they were already friends, the first kid her age to ever look at her like anything close to a friend, and squirmed his way down from the shadow man’s arms to hold out a hand to her.

“I’m Harry Potter.”

She took his hand slowly, like she was afraid it would bite her, but Harry didn’t push. Slowly she managed a smile back. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

And the rest was history.

[youthkenworld]

Mark Javorka...

@markjavorka.24

13 minutes ago

This is how the Fact Checkers Fail to tell the WHOLE TRUTH while claimint ot provide the WHOLE TRUTH LOL and they provide a CHERRY PICKED list a Resources they Absolutely know is bullshite LMAO ! Yes this 2021 meme is vague and misleading in its accuracy but it's FAR from "False" in its speaking the Truth. as seen in Pic (1) below

Lodriguez Murray, vice president of public policy and government affairs for the UNCF group told The Associated Press that the post circulating online makes layers of false claims that he called “despicable.”

“There is not any indication of going back on anything that has been moved forward with so far,” Murray said of Biden’s plan. “What disturbs me the most is that someone dares to use UNCF’s good name, HBCUs and populations that have been traditionally held down by systemic racism to make an erroneous case.”

Biden’s administration has openly stated that it plans on continuing to support HBCUs. During her confirmation hearing, Neera Tanden, the president’s pick to lead the Office of Management and Budget, told Sen. Jon Ossoff that supporting HBCUs “is a priority for the president and the vice president,” adding, “I welcome the opportunity to work with you on those issues in support of HBCUs and the vital role that they play.”

Also, Vice President Kamala Harris is a graduate from an HBCU. And on Jan. 26, during a speech on racial equity, Biden urges his audience to imagine if HBCUs “had the same funding and resources of public universities to compete for jobs and industries of the future.”

OH BUT that's a damn lie now isn't it Lodriguez Murray, vice president of public policy and government affairs for the UNCF group. Biden Pledge and Promised The UNCF 20 BILLION with a "B" and in the end Congress approved only 2.7 Billion across all 50 states. In typical Democrat Socialist fashion The threats to NOT Support Biden went flying from all angles but to NO avail. LOL as seen in Pic (2) below

In Summary EVERY Fact - Check group was quick to point out that President Trump's EO was "Just" Reinstating the Funds allocated to UNCF that Congress had previously allowed to lapse.

"Allowed to Lapse ??????"

Yes that is what that the author of the False Claim stated and then EVERY Fact Check outlet "Lifted Her Words and Reposted her article WORD FOR WORD yes, word for word except for the "WORDS" where the TRUE author apparently unknowingly PROVES BIDEN AND COMRADES FAILED THE UNCF BY ONLY SECURING 2 Billion in Total OUT OF 20 BILLION with a " B" Through congress You Know . . . THE at that time in 2021, both House and Senate MAJORITY of Congress shot Biden down and ALSO Failed to tell WE THE PEOPLE in their HASTE to debunk any thing President Trump every did hahahaha. THEY, the 99% Marxist Democrats and Establishment Socialist RINO'S propaganda Media machine Repeatedly put out these Fact Checks KNOWING they are full of "Hillary killary/Barry Boy King/Creepy PEDO Joe Bull- Shite" TOTALLY going against the One and Only Reason THEY THE MEDIA are SUPPOSED to exist. "To be the Last defense of Truth in information for WE THE PEOPLE" Not only are the Shills for deep state traitors in Washington DC? They conduct themselves absolutely believing We The People are too dumb (Republican voters) or too indoctrinated (Democrat Voters) to ever figure out that "THEY" most of them in Congress are not representing and or carrying out the will of their constituents, That would be YOU who voted them in office nor have THEY who made SPECIFIC campaign promises to you followed through on even ONE of them.

They all have ONE THING IN COMMON They look us all straight in the eye while the bull-shite squeezes out their pie holes as seen in motion in .gif pic (4)

https://img.mewe.com/api/v2/photo/sjvl5n6Yceb1O750dOOiLyE6R7yPQmyXgI6fD-poDbllivBH4d4xMUH6rU4/800x800/img?static=1

Mark Javorka

[ingek73]

Press watchdog to investigate Clarkson’s Sun article on Meghan

Ipso received more than 25,000 complaints about piece in which presenter said he ‘hated’ duchess

Ben Quinn

Thu 9 Feb 2023 19.45 GMT

The UK’s press watchdog is to investigate Jeremy Clarkson’s column in the Sun about the Duchess of Sussex after it received more than 25,100 complaints.

The Duke and Duchess last month accused the presenter of writing articles “that spread hate rhetoric, dangerous conspiracy theories and misogyny” after he wrote that he “hated” Meghan and had dreamed of her being paraded naked through British towns and publicly shamed.

As well as announcing the investigation on Thursday, the Independent Press Standards Organisation (Ipso) said it was taking forward complaints from two groups, the Fawcett Society and the Wilde Foundation, which said they were affected by various breaches of the regulator’s Editors’ Code of Practice: clause 1 (accuracy), clause 3 (harassment) and clause 12 (discrimination).

The number of complaints to Ipso was a record for the regulator. The column on 16 December 2022 was also published online on the Sun’s website, but was later removed.

Clarkson wrote in the piece that he hated Meghan on a “cellular level”, and added: “At night, I’m unable to sleep as I lie there, grinding my teeth and dreaming of the day when she is made to parade naked through the streets of every town in Britain while the crowds chant ‘Shame!’ and throw lumps of excrement at her.”

In a tweet on 19 December, he stated: “Oh dear. I’ve rather put my foot in it. In a column I wrote about Meghan, I made a clumsy reference to a scene in Game of Thrones and this has gone down badly with a great many people. I’m horrified to have caused so much hurt and I shall be more careful in future.”

The presenter later revealed he had contacted Harry and Meghan on Christmas morning to say sorry.

But the royal couple said his email was directed solely to the Duke of Sussex and that “what remains to be addressed is his longstanding pattern of writing articles that spread hate rhetoric, dangerous conspiracy theories and misogyny”.

They added in a statement last month: “Unless each of his other pieces were also written ‘in a hurry’, as he states, it is clear that this is not an isolated incident shared in haste, but rather a series of articles shared in hate.”

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The duke called the article about his wife “horrific, hurtful and cruel” during an interview with ITV’s Tom Bradby to discuss his autobiography, Spare, adding that what Clarkson had written would encourage people around the world to believe it was an acceptable way to treat women.

The Fawcett Society is a charity that campaigns for gender equality and women’s rights, while the Wilde Foundation is a platform created to “promote, educate, empower and heal women and girls, victims and survivors of all kinds of abuse”.

Jemima Olchawski, the chief executive of the Fawcett Society, said: “Of course, the comments were deeply offensive but it goes beyond that. Clarkson’s misogynistic and racist views appeared in one of our biggest national newspapers, they will have been seen and sanctioned by experienced journalists before they were published in the Sun. It is this endorsement of these toxic views that is also extremely troubling.

“Sexism, racism and misogyny have no place in our society. In the UK one woman is murdered every three days by a man; women and girls experience violence, hate and harassment at the hands of men – and it’s views like Clarkson’s that play a huge part in normalising this.”

Ipso said it would make the outcome of the investigation public through its website and on its social media channels when it is concluded.

A spokesperson for the Sun said: “We can confirm we have now received a formal complaint from Ipso. We are considering our response. The Sun has sincerely apologised, and expressed regret at the publication of the column. We have no further comment at this time.”

[weirdlet]

Got off a little early from work, so game is on early as well! Or- late because GM is late, but we are starting off with between-session shenanigans. Due to the last plot point floating out there, it turns out a dark god we inadvertantly pleased some time ago has temporarily raised the lava in the volcano and trapped the mighty dragon for four rounds in an enormous ruby. So we get some chances to actually stab it a lot before it reaches its second phase and super-sayin's us.

We fight the dragon most heartily as he strains against his prison, and finally a disintegrate hits him, turning him to dust- but as he goes poof, the ashes turn to living flame. As a great ancient wyrm, this is his final form- we stopped him from becoming a god, but HOLY SHIT this thing is powerful regardless. And now we have to fight the living heart of a volcano.

We are chugging potions and hacking away and also fighting three bigass fire elementals. Glory downs a potion of haste and is praying under his breath. Maeve is wielding a frost-sword that keeps her from taking heat-exhaustion. And after a big hit, the dragon coruscates with white flames that burn the eyes and radiate damage if you're too close. Fortunately, Trinidad is gigantic and hardened and probably wearing sunglasses.

The breath weapon comes back online, and he spews fire across the northern part of the map- Glory and Trinidad are betwixt them nimble and strong, and covered in extra strength fire resistance potion, so it's terrifying but livable.

A sunbeam blinds and injures one of the elementals, and nearly slays Hoornmdargh! But the dragon turns, and snaps Alain between his jaws, even as his own wounds gush!

And then Trinidad spins his giant glaive, and slices the dragon's head clean off!

AS we're hastily pouring healing potions down throats and getting Alain upright, Ilmater himself steps through a portal to take us to a fight we must also tend to. Something about a runestone. The final cult that was the reason Alain came to be, until his purpose was fulfilled. We're a little leery about it just because we are exhausted, all our useful abilities are spent, but we have missions to fulfill. As Glory announces, he has a husband, a harbor to run, and babies to have, just like Trinidad has a wife, and Sorianna wishes to have Alistair who is now Alain, and who might be again. Maeve is a paladin of Ilmater, so take a wild guess.

40k gold pieces and 36k platinum rain from the ceiling, but absolutely no useful magic items. We step through the portal and the GM calls for a break, disappointed but amused by the treasure table's results.

*insert appropriate 'Let's All Go To The Lobby!' song break here*

As we step through, we receive visions- back in the magical tower of Leilon, the world covered in inky darkness and conquered by cthulian things, and each of us are taken through two scenarios- one in which these things tempt us into our primary character-driving sins, and we end the world but stand tall; and one in which we reject our sins and self-sacrifice. And we're asked if we would choose one or the other.

And in most instances, our own sins prevent us from giving in to these things that would destroy our world. Glory in particular is offered, in the name of his Wrath, the ability to slaughter anyone who wronged him, to wreak vengeance upon the next ten generations, to which he responds with a resounding "Meh." "Ten generations? Slaughter armies? I can kill anyone who pisses me off myself! Ten gener- what? Get a hobby! Take up drinking! Get a girlfriend!!!"

As we come through these visions, refreshed and healed, we find the god of martyrs upon the ground, the pool of his blood forming a shield against the man-sized starspawn surrounding and pressing against it. The same things that killed Alistair. In the same tower he had died in. And one of them, more wizardly than the rest, the wizard we fought with against them, holds the runestone and monologues at us about finding his purpose and using the stone to destabilize reality and let things in.

Basically, if we can get rid of the runestone it will be a net gain, but there may have to be self-sacrifice to do it.

Protected by the blood of the god, staring at these horrible things, Maeve gives a holy, magically enhanced command- and the starseer blinks and throws the runestone into the corner away from himself and near us.

Sorianna mage-hands it! And we all look at each other, going, 'how the f do we destroy it?'

The seer gapes at us, and is like- 'are you joining me? Or- you really need to worry about my boss, he's perfect and beautiful - and he is coming soon.' And then he tries to collapse reality around Sorianna, who counterspells it but is freaked out by the sight.

Glory stays still, waiting safely ensconced in the blood as the creatures swarm around us- then stabs the one closest to him through the face on a natural 20 with a massive doubled sneak-attack. Trinidad rages, and we are shredding these creatures.

And then the big one slinks down the stairs. It pushes one of the bodies into the blood to stand on.

Meanwhile, Alain touches the big holographic vision-generator in the center of the room, guiding it to show him the possibilities of what he can do, what different outcomes depending on who sacrifices what- and he jumps out the window after dumping that raw in our brains, jumping out the window to be the distraction in order for someone else to successfully take the stone out with them.

An inspiration point is used to switch turns, and Sorianna throws her bag of holding at Glory, says "We're not going through this again," and teleports the rest of us to her home as she misty-steps herself out into the void with the runestone in her arms.

The dying god breathes on Alistair and guides him through time and space to find himself a feasting table, while Sorianna bounces through time and space, following bloodied footprints that take her to different points Quantum-Leaping around us throughout our journey.

And her journey through time and space, influencing all the outcomes, ends with her appearing in her home, as we three others are about to walk in, and Alistair, her darling, sitting at the table with a feast before him.

There is such an embrace. There are tears. Each of us are greeted- Maeve by her lost dog, Glory by his husband, Trinidad is punched in the arm by his orcish wife. And we hear Ilmater's voice, whispering thank you in his last breaths, as he fades out of existence. The bleeding god bleeds no more, and he has helped us to save ourselves.

At first there's shock. Carver and Maeve have lost their divine power. There's an initial round of how do you replace/revive a god, and some chattering back and forth, and Sorianna actually feels another pull to leap in time again. Somehow, this is not the last stop, and there's one more thing that needs done.

She disappears, and we're left with jaws gaping. After some teleport shenanigans, we're back at the lair of the dragon to collect the cash, and are greeted by glowing knights, asking us if we believe Alistair is worthy of taking up the open slot of godhood.

Glory's like 'you leave those two alone! They deserve their happiness together!' Maeve argues that he should only become a god if he wishes. Trinidad argues that no mortal is worthy of godhood. Love, free will, and gatekeeping- the gods will take these into account, though which will reign supreme is anyone's guess.

There's a new left turn to the pathways that wasn't there before. As Trinidad and his wife are gathering up the biggest fortune in the world, Maeve and Glory investigate the metal doors to a stairway that goes up, and up, and up-

about the point where there's clouds and blue skies, Glory says 'I don't think I belong here- are you sure you want to keep going?' The sending stones aren't working, and Maeve tells Glory- you have a family. And I really want to find out what's on the other side.

After a short argument about what kind of friend would I be- Glory says 'I hope you find what you're looking for' and gifts her his mother's haircomb with the one missing jewel, before sauntering vaguely downward.

Maeve keeps walking. Meeting gods along the way, who guide her to Ao and meets the godhead. She is undone and remade in the image of her best self- she becomes a goddess. Her armor becomes cosmic. She is taught that all children under Ao are worthy, even if starspawn and gods and mortals need different things. And she renames herself and takes her place.

Sorianna pops out in her final destination! Alistair is being argued over by all the good gods, petted and pulled and spoiled between them. He's being pulled to godhood. She calls out to him-

-and he calls back, saying, "Join me, my love!"

The gods start whispering among themselves. The moment runs long. Sorianna says "We are better together, we are a package deal-" and is given the same morsels Alistair is. All the gods are familiar to her, except one, with the cosmos in her armor.

"I'm happy to see you again, friends. Welcome!"

All three become known for their mercy, though each have a different spin.

Glory finds his way out of the disappearing staircase via some lava tubes, emerges coughing and forswearing that left turn at Albaqurqe, and comes out into the full salvage operation of the ruby. He goes home with his husband, one of the richest people in the world.

He has babies, becomes pirate king of the seas but legit, and loves his husband Carver, who takes the loss of his divine power with grace and humility- and still rises every morning at dawn for calisthenics and prayer.

next week, we're probably working on a Pathfinder campaign. Several folks are switching out because of scheduling issues, and I'm going to be late regardless because of work, but we've had so much fun and want to do it again.

[magickhajiit]

Sokovia and Spiders Chapter 3

Warnings- some graphic description of violence

Rating- teen and up audiences

previous chapters all stories

a03 link wattpad link quotev link

The images are grainy, but the costumes are obnoxious enough to recognise purely by a few flashes of vivid colour and glimpses of logos. Red and blue swipe across the screen, pulled along by pale webs. Spiderman ricochets from wall to wall, the reason for his haste becomes apparent as it flies right behind him, gold and red suit glinting in the distance. The video had been swiped off a deli’s CCTV cameras and posted online. It only lasts thirty or so seconds. What exactly happened in the end the public doesn’t yet know.   

The video plays on phone hovering above a young women’s chest, an orange hue emitting from it. A spiralling crack separates the screen, and the cover’s packed with cards, each one for a different alias. She’s lazed on an old sofa, avoiding the bare springs that have erupted from the stuffing, with one foot skimming the shabby red carpet.  A mesh of mismatch furniture and mismatch mutants fill the safe house. The Rogue Marauders built the house shortly after their beginning, a bolt hole for any members attempting to bring mutants to safety. With the passing of the Mutant Registration Act hanging over their head it’s a welcome refuge. Right now, there seven children in the house waiting to be taken to a better future.   

With the video’s release there comes an inevitable end to the secret. The feral cat has been yanked from the metaphorical bag. When the Sokovia Accords were passed, the superhero world was divided down the middle, teams like the avengers ripped apart. Now the government is finally hunting down the unregistered, neighbourhood heroes. It made sense for the first victim to be Spiderman. He was the archetype of what a hero should be. Hunting him sent a message to every other cape, ‘fall in line or suffer the consequences.’  

Red light fills the gap beneath the door, spilling into her room in the process. ‘’Dinners ready, Candace.’’ The glow fades only to flash again, signalling the speaker’s departure. Antony had come to her room, he was a child teleporter, appearing suddenly and leaving those around him with blue spots dancing in front of their eyes. Eyes still glued to the grainy footage Candace doesn’t see the figure at the window as she gets up. He’s wearing all black, night vision googles over his eyes and a radio strapped to his vest. Shield’s logo stitched proudly onto his arm.   

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

Miles away the same video plays on a sleek iPhone, it’s paused just at the moment before Spiderman creeps out of the shot. Stark had been the one to revamp the images, zooming in and reconstructing each piece of it until the obscure image turned sharp. If he was interested, he could zoom in and see each microfibre of his red and blue suit. But Stark’s too engrossed in the small metal mechanism strapped to his wrist, a web shooter. Before this the general consensus was that he produced the webs himself, now they know that’s not the case and Clint owes him fifty.  

Speaking of Clint, he’s waiting by the lift to the top floor on the helicarrier , back leaning against the banal wall; sunglasses on in an attempt to cover the bruises blooming next to his eye. His posture’s stiff probably as a result of being kicked across an alleyway. Stark can only imagine he’s a kaleidoscopic of purple and blue under his vest.  Flashing his phone at Clint, Starks says, ‘’You’ve heard about the video, right? The one I emailed you.’’ He doesn’t wait for his answer, pressing the lift’s button, the words continue to flow, ‘’It’s got half a million views already. There’s no taking that back. The press is going to have a field day.’’  A small ding signals the lift’s return, walking in Hawkeye finally replies, ‘’Hill showed me. I don’t check my email.’’   

‘’Course you don’t.’’   

‘’Has the MR Act been passed.’’  

‘’Just this morning. The press were meant to be releasing the news today, but this has grabbed their attention instead. I’ve got an interview with sally ccgu tonight.’’  

The lift doors opens onto a empty hallway. There’s no windows to break up the monotony of grey steel panels lining the walls. The floor is made of similar material, only the Sheild emblem is stamped across it. Straight ahead of them black double doors sit, the nametag just visible at that distance: Director Hill.  

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

They came through the bedroom windows first. Shards of glass are sprinkled across the carpet as they swing in on ropes, like special force agents in an action movie. Making their way downstairs they pick off the mutants one by one, moving in sync. The guns shoot blue tranquilizers, a recent invention of Sheild Technology, rather than real bullets. So, the soldiers are planning on taking them to either prison 42 or the raft. Both outcomes feel worse than death.  

Candace ran to the stairway when she heard glass shattering, glancing up the barrel of a gun greets her. In the possession of an agent, his face contorted into an animalistic snarl, he’s got a white knuckled grip on the machine when he jabs it toward her, the unspoken threat clear.  With the weapon aimed at her chest, Candace uses her power.   

Creeping into someone's mind is as difficult as it is rewarding, especially when the individual isn’t looking for a mental visitor. Really, it’s like opening up a stubborn jar of jam, only banging their heads against a countertop doesn’t have the same success rate. It’s a delicate process. Whenever she can get inside, the brain always feels overflowing, humming with electric. In her mind Candace pictures a computer stuffed with different coloured wires, each ensuring a process is carried out; breathing, talking, pointing a gun.   

Sometimes she imagines what she could do with practise. Pull on the metaphorical wire that regulates breathing and watch how they crumble before her. Maybe it’s an overactive imagination but she could swear the cross around her neck burns in the rare times she has those thoughts. And even if she wanted to, she was no Professor X. Instead, she yanks an orange one, the soldier's hands go slack, the gun dropping. Concentrating again, sweat begins to gather at Candace’s temple, the gun moves around the butt of it now facing her. The man drops when she fires, blue veins visible in his face, the tranquilizer taking immediate effect.   

His anonymity was secured with the visor covering his eyes, flicking her wrist Candace rips it off. Diving into his head once more, she routes around for his most recent memories, trying the find their plan of action. Instead, the imagery of grey men in grey suits, sat a grey long table, greets her. She sees the moment from the side, like a guard on watch. Papers are pushed around the table, from the high angle she can see the words boldly printed, the typeface understated and as bleak as its meaning. The Mutant Registration Act.  

When they sign the papers, she tries to rush forward, only to find herself frozen in place, stranded in a foreign body, seeing the world from a stranger’s eyes.  She’s not recalling the memories, she's living them. She can feel everything from the chill in the room’s air to the hollowness in the man’s chest, an empty cavern where emotion should live.   

The visions rush toward her, the movements within them become frantic, like a tape on rewind. Somehow she knows this memory is in the past, though old memories usually feel stale and hazy this is as clear as glass. But there’s something artificial about it.   

In the background an instinctual piece of her brain tells her to let go, reminding her physically she’s in a house of intruders. But the memories dig their claws in when she tries to break free, she’s trapped in his mind.  A white room appears next, like all colour has bled from it. Men stand at attention within in, their uniforms dark and pristine.   

She sees this room from a stage before them. And when she focuses on their faces she can tell these are not normal men. They have the same sloping noses, olive skin tone, their ebony hair is cut to the scalp, each one was clean shaven. Finally, the same eyes watch her, unnatural, pure white eyes. The men were frightenliy the same. Clones is the only word that comes to mind when she sees them.   

Then their connection is cut. In the physical world a blue dart strikes between her shoulder blades. Behind her stands a man, his sloping nose and olive complexion lost behind black fabric. He made his move in a critical moment. Had Candace had the chance to glance behind her in the last vision she would have seen the great genius himself observing his creation, Tony Stark. A man determined to win the war. At any cost.  

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

Dear Sir/Madame,  

                              Operational Black Bird commenced at 03:00 AM ( time) on June 24th. Following the asignment’s directions, Shadow Unit 06 breached the north side of the building at exactly 03:07 AM.   

After the breach nine to eleven suspects were spotted fleeing the scene. Five enhanced individuals have been apprehended by our agents using minimal combative force, the group including four enhanced minors. (Further profile information is attached.)     

In accordance with the Sokovia Accords, paragraph nine, the adult enhanced (M.CODE:73928) has been transferred from the regional shield holding facility to the Project Control building where they are currently waiting for evaluation before they stand trial. The minors have been transferred to New York's Government Sanctuary, as stated in the Mutant Registration Act, where they are awaiting assessment. Currently, the received intel indicates there were minor injuries and no fatalities obtained during the process.   

Furthermore, as of this email being sent, there have been no official sightings of the known resistance members, their whereabouts remain unknown. Though unconfirmed sightings have been reported from Brooklyn.  

Sincerely,  

Agent Ward 

[nemiravens]

OC-tober Day 7: Your OC confronting a silly fear

Feat. Lilliana Egerton from The Anonymous Four: Side Mortal World

Lia stared back at Aiden. Her brows were pressed, fingers fidgeting; a sign of disturbance. The male was listening to her though, but he showed no signs of enlightenment.

"I dunno, Lia. That doesn't sound possible to me." Aiden said. "You might've been reading too much weird shit online."

Aiden had a point. Lia understood that. But his words held no meaning anymore. Not when noticeable changes began taking shape in the male's complexion.

"Lia?"

Eventually, Lia leaped up from the couch and made haste out of the living room.

Aiden watched her leave with a bewildered look. The girl completely lost it. He had to follow her to make sure her little delusions wouldn't lead her down the ditch.

"Lia! Come back!"

Lia could hear Aiden's voice calling her from the other room. She didn't dare turn to look nor pull herself to a stop.

It's happening. The dreaded apocalypse is happening. A horrifying event where every single person on Earth would transform into a splitting image of her. A silly situation to many, but it was a different story for the main victim.

Lia then accidentally ran straight into her older brother. "Woah! Lia?" Horrified eyes, that's what greeted the male, and concern covered the entirety of Ray's face.

"Lia, what happened? What's going on?" he asked, agitated. But his younger sister, in response to his unease, sped off to the other direction.

"She's gone nuts." Aiden appeared beside Ray. "We need to get her to calm down before she ends up in a situation she will regret."

He never heard Ray respond, so Aiden had to do a double take and glance towards him.

"I might be dreaming but..." Ray was already looking at Aiden like he has the strangest hair style and color he had ever seen.

"Why the hell do you look like my sister?"

See the full list of OC-tober writing prompts list here.

[thelenazavaroniarchive]

13th August 2024.

𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕. Lena was on the front page and inside TV Times, to publicise Hi! Summer the following day. The cover photograph was taken in July by Universal Pictorial Press and Agency.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. Lena starred at the Wellington Pier, Great Yarmouth, in Sunday Seaside Special. with; Bobby Crush, Duggie Chapman, Chris North And Jill, Reg Thompson. Larry Grayson was doing the summer season.

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏.The Stage reported that Lena’s last show at Blackpool opera House did well, despite Cannon and Ball doing a show on the same night.

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏. It was also reported that The Gloucester Hall, Fort Regent on the Isle Of Wight was becoming the place to go due to them booking top stars such as Lena.

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐. The Sussex Express reviewed The Lena Zavaroni Show at The White Rock Pavilion, Hastings. They were disappointed with Lena. - was her coming illness and breakdown signalled but no one took any notice.

Sunday 13th August 2023, a review of the play "LENA" from The Review Hub. yesterday.

The reviewer mistakenly said that Lena was nine years old when she was actually ten

They also claimed that Lena shared a stage with CHER, when in fact she appeared on the SHARE show.

To be fair, a lot of reviewers have copied and pasted mistakes like this. However below is an answer given by this reviewer to a question in a December 2013 interview:

What is your piece of advice would you give for anyone who is new to blogging/reviewing?

It depends what you want your blog to become. If it's just a personal record of your theatre highlights then pick your style and theme and stick to it. Get yourself a good blog name and an unique online identity. I've found that by being more specialised (Glasgow and Scottish theatre) has been better than diversifying; it's better to be really well informed in one area than spread yourself thin. If you want your blog to be something more, then a certain amount of discipline is required: always be professional, double and triple check your facts; check your spelling, grammar and syntax; being professional from the start is what has made my own blog grow, big companies want you to maintain a professional and most of all, objective stance; theatre reviews are a very specific type of writing and it pays to stick to what the industry standards are. Find your voice and be prepared to defend what you write; treat everyone with courtesy and respect and always hand in copy within the agreed deadlines and finally, post regularly, the more content you have the more readers you get.

[secretsign]

High on life would define how he feels right now. Party music is booming, the sky is clear and the roaring waves are music to his ears. The last day of their tour, one evening with no work where they can only celebrate their hard work around the country. No massive drama on the horizon, just everything they have been working for for the world to see in its purest form.

Tonight, it's a DJ who is on the stage. The sun has yet to set but the energy is already high. Kohaku was dragged in by others his age to go surf, Niki is chatting with the beach restaurant chef about recipes, and Rinne is currently being carried by the crowd on the dancefloor, crying out of celebration with his arms up.

As he walks away to grab something to drink, he hops happily towards HiMERU, sitting in the shade next to their cooler. Nimble fingers grab onto an icecold water bottle as Rinne sighs noisily to attract his unitmate's attention.

"Whew~~~! That's the life!!"

He presses the cold drink against his face, enjoying the soothing feeling. Sharp eyes glance at HiMERU, who is probably not even looking at him--or more like not enough. Rinne cannot let this stand, there is no way one of his mate was going to be this boring!

The gambler is entirely sober, and yet he is clearly inebriated on something else when all of a sudden he slides between Meru's legs, pushing aside one of them with one finger so they spread, asking for the other bee to drop whatever he is doing. Rinne's cheek draws closer to the inner thigh, without getting into contact with it; yet why does it feel like his teeth appear suddenly sharper?

"Merumeru, I'm going to eat'cha~~~!"

It's been a fun time, and HiMERU can admit that freely. By his estimation, the tour had gone well-- not that he's particularly worried anymore in that regard-- and that leaves him free to enjoy the hard-earned celebration without issue.

After a point, he's content to step back and let the cacophony sound on without him. It isn't in his nature to live and die by the party, and more importantly, it isn't in HiMERU's character. Therefore, he reasons, he won't be missed if he allows himself a break.

Taking shelter in the shade, he busies himself with reading online reactions and impressions of the tour while the music pulses in the background, accented with the shouts and screams of ecstatic beachgoers. He prefers to keep up to date with such commentary, and even he isn't stuffy enough to bring a book to a scene like this.

He doesn't think he's been away for too long, but the approach of a certain obnoxious redhead has him quickly checking the time, as if that's going to determine what kind of greeting he can expect. (It's not, and he knows this.)

He's sure if he ignores the other, things will only get out of hand. That's just how Rinne is, and he has learned that it's easiest not to resist the other's whims. He takes note of his place on his phone before--

Nope, he's not fast enough at putting that phone away. HiMERU clenches his jaw tight to ward off the urge to suck in a deep breath, his golden eyes flashing a warning as his leader makes himself far too comfortable between his legs. In some settings, he might react more strongly-- but he'd rather not call attention to this. In fact, he steadfastly refuses to give the other the satisfaction of seeing him squirm on this occasion.

Even though he can feel the lingering chill of the water bottle radiating from the man's skin and it makes him want to shriek.

Instead, he moves to push Rinne's forehead back firmly, but without haste.

❝Shiina won't stand for it if you spoil your appetite, Amagi-- or mine.❞ A twitch in his face as he recognizes his mistake, but continues nonetheless. He can be playful. He can keep this light. He's not going to forcefully close his legs and spit hateful things, because that's absolutely the goal here, and he just can't let Rinne win after such an audacious attack. ❝Your concern is noted, but HiMERU isn't lonely, and it's too warm for these antics that make the heart race. Go find someone else to play with.❞

[bonviesnack234]

Dried Fruits and Mental Wellness: Nourishing the Mind with Nutrient-Rich Snacks

In a time of consistent hustle and haste, it's simple to miss the significance of mental wellness. However, our mental wellbeing is significant for general well-being. The great news is that there are basic and scrumptious ways to back mental wellness, and one such way is through the utilisation of nutrient-rich snacks like dried fruits.

Dried natural products are a helpful and delicious way to boost your supplement admissions. They are pressed with basic vitamins and minerals, counting vitamin C, potassium, and dietary fiber, all of which are imperative for mental wellness. Moreover, dried natural products are a great source of cancer prevention agents, which can offer assistance to secure the brain from oxidative stretch and inflammation.

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When it comes to buy online premium freeze dried fruits, it’s critical to select high-quality items. Search for brands that offer premium freeze-dried natural products that are gluten-free, with no included sugar, and are not prepared or fricasseed. This guarantees that you simply get the foremost nutrient-rich and tasty dried natural products accessible. One such brand is Bonvie, which offers a wide range of premium freeze-dried snacks that are idealised for those searching for a sound and helpful nibble option.

In expansion to being an extraordinary source of supplements, dried natural products can offer assistance to progress your disposition. The characteristic sugars in dried natural products can donate you a speedy vitality boost, which can offer assistance to combat sentiments of weakness and drowsiness. Moreover, the act of snacking on something sweet and tasty can be a disposition booster in itself. By consolidating dried natural products into your count calories, you'll be giving your brain the fuel it must remain sharp and centred, whereas too fulfilling your sweet tooth.

In conclusion, dried natural products are a nutrient-rich and helpful nibble alternative that can offer assistance back mental wellness. By choosing high-quality items and joining them into your diet, you'll donate your brain the supplements it should work at its best. Whether you appreciate them on their own or as a portion of a formula, dried natural products are a delightful and solid way to feed your intellect and body.

[thegabriellahere]

Check 4 Crucial Qualities of Professional PR (press release) Writers Before Hiring

Are you looking forward to hiring professional PR (press release) writers? Get to know the top 4 things you need to look for before you hire any professionals.

Press releases are one of the most essential elements for business organizations as they help to make official announcements and gain the attention of the niche industry and media. Almost every other industry utilizes PR to boost the growth of businesses along with sales and popularity. A press release can help to establish a company as a reliable brand in the field which improves its reputation as well as online presence and visibility. Such important and useful content with marketing value should be created by professionals to churn out its maximum potential. When it comes to professional PR (press release) writers; it goes without saying that they are more experienced and knowledgeable in the field.

However, the market is filled with numerous professional writers and PR agencies which makes it a bit daunting at times to opt for a specific writer. Here are the top 4 essential qualities of a professional PR writer that you need to look for before hiring them.

Familiarity

A professional PR writer is supposed to be familiar with at least two things that make the PR content perfect: the general structure and PR format as well as the industry your company belongs to. If you are writer is not aware of the general PR elements and your industry; it can only lead to a failed campaign. PR requires a very specific structure and that is not only about the title and the dateline. The standard format for PR also shows which information should go where which makes it more newsworthy and readable for everyone. If the format is not authentic, your PR content can get rejected in the worst-case scenario.

Hiring a writer who is not familiar with your industry is a very costly mistake as it can generate enough media attention from the niche even after writing and distribution. Lack of industry knowledge leads to irrelevant information which does not pique interest in the reader's mind. To stay ahead of the competitors, it is important to create more industry-oriented PRs that can gain more traction from the market.

Planning Skills

High-quality content can be only written when with proper strategic planning and it should be done with utmost care and professionalism. A writer who rushes to write can create content out of haste which only deteriorates in quality. Instead, the writer must take time to arm themselves with the knowledge and information required to craft the PR content. Most professionals go through a complete consultation with the clients before offering them any content. It is important for the writers to understand clients' raw ideas to incorporate them in the PR and offer them content that caters to their unique business needs.

Press releases a time-sensitive content and it can lose its importance if not distributed at the right time. Therefore, your hired writer must offer you the content within the deadline, securing its relevance and importance in the market. A press release is usually 300 – 400 words long and a professional writer must know how to utilize that word limit to gain maximum media attention.

Abilities of Storytelling

Press Release writers need to have compelling storytelling skills that add a creative angle to the PR content. Since it is brief and impactful content, it must have an attractive angle that makes it more worthy to read for the readers including target audiences such as potential customers, journalists, investors, and other media personnel. Starting from the catchy title till the end of the boilerplate; the content must be engaging and intriguing enough to hold readers' attention. It majorly depends on the storytelling skills of the writer you hired.

Empathetic Style

Humans crave empathy and they want to read content to which they can relate. If your PR content can evoke emotion in readers’ minds; the PR campaign will be more successful as more online users would like to give it a read. The professional PR writer must follow an empathetic style of writing that directly connects with the target audiences and helps fulfill their needs. It also shows how much your brand cares for its clients.

Final Thoughts

With a simple search on Google or any other search engine, you can find a handful of professional agencies and writers to hire. Make sure to check the aforementioned factors to find a suitable PR writer for your business. Hiring a professional provides ample opportunities to focus on other business prospects.