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quinnyundertow · 5 months ago

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The Cult Leader’s Quarry

TW: NSFW 18+ Graphic rape involving reader (wet dream), self harm, self flagellation.

CHAPTER TWO: TORN IN TWO

God, you feel divine around him. Geto fucks into you harshly, his hips grinding against your own when his dick is fully sheathed inside you. His balls are slapping against your ass as he chases his own pleasure and ignores yours completely. Your doe eyes are so wide and completely glassy with unshed tears. His large hand easily wraps around your dainty throat. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh there. Your whimpers of pain and pleasure turn into a whine that ends abruptly as your air supply is completely cut off.

The tears in your emotional orbs are almost overflowing, the surface tension making the liquid wobble precariously over the edge of your waterline without dropping. Fuck, you felt like heaven. You grew impossibly tighter as your body convulses in fear and oxygen deprivation. He's having trouble thrusting into your delicious cunt from the increased tightness. The way those tears aren’t wetting your cheeks is driving him insane. The veins in his hand are bulging as he squeezes your pretty throat. He pistons into you with renewed vigor slamming your cervix hard enough to shake your whole body violently. The jerking movement finally forces the dam of pain to break and run down your face in long hot trails of fear. He pushes all the way into you as his pleasure suddenly peaks at the sight. Abs tensing against you, his groans are loud and lewd as he paints your womb white with his superior genetic makeup. Waves of pleasure are pulsing through him. Geto’s lips push against your ringing ears as he growls, “I own you.” He releases your throat and your intake of breath is harsh and hacking. Your convulsions milking every drop of his orgasm out of him. The sobbing noises underneath him are full of pain and fear-

Suguru Geto wakes suddenly, his form slick with sweat. He’s shaking, his skin clammy to the touch as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Closing his eyes he sinks into the afterglow of one of the best orgasms in his life. “Fuck.” His voice is raspy and thick with sleep. His dark locks are stuck to him in places. His bangs are especially damp and plastered to the side of his face. He leans onto his elbow and lifts the black sheet off of him. His pelvis and thighs are sticky with cum; the sheets now desperately in need of a clean. What, was he back in middle school again? Having wet dreams and cumming untouched to the idea of fucking a woman.

Relaxing he lets his body flop back down onto the damp sheets. Lifting his hands up he stares at his palms as they lightly involuntarily shake. No, not a woman. A monkey. An animal. A subhuman. Something not even deserving of his attention let alone his lust. He rubs his eyes trying to convince himself you’re disgusting but the mental image of your tears silently slipping down ruddy cheeks as you turn blue is invasive. The way you sobbed underneath him, his dick still buried deep inside your quivering cunt. His own cock twitches in response, growing painfully hard at the idea all over again.

Geto reaches out his cursed energy and feels the curse he bound to you respond. The distance he has to reach across lets him know you’re still in that shitty apartment you can barely afford. He had spent last night researching his quarry. Your tax documents and rental agreements filled in some informational gaps. You’re a loner or maybe deep down you're afraid of people. You live in isolation, there’s no evidence of a roommate, nor an exorbitant pet fee being paid; so it's highly unlikely there’s a cat or dog. Your unwillingness to get a roommate has forced you to live off the scraps of your paychecks.

Your preoccupation for solitude almost makes this too easy for him. He could recreate this dream. You’re far too weak to fight against him. Too feeble to refuse his advances. He could hurt you just like those men hurt Mimiko and Nanoko. Bile flows up his throat at the unbidden thought. The stomach acid burning the inside of his nostrils and throat. He’s moving swiftly across the room and vomiting into the attached bathroom's toilet. Swallowing curses daily he is no stranger to the taste of vomit. It’s the guilt in the pit of his stomach that’s unfamiliar. Moving to the bathroom sink he washes out his mouth then stares at his reflection. His eyes are red rimmed from the force behind him throwing up. Other than that his eyes are empty.

He’s never raped anyone. Never hurt someone for the sheer pleasure of it. Never gotten off on someone’s agony. Tortured and killed? Sure. There was a point to that; but even then he didn’t enjoy it. Well, most of the time. He decided he would become a monster in order to protect those he cares about. He will do the things that no one else will dare to in order to save the sorcerer race from destruction. If that means killing off every man, woman and child non-sorcerer in existence; then so be it. He resolved himself to that two years ago when he murdered his parents and he reaffirms it every morning upon waking. To ensure his rage never fades.

Geto uses a washcloth to wipe off the mess covering his thighs and goes to yank the soiled sheets off his bed. Not wanting to see the evidence of this morning he balls them up he throws them in the corner of the room where the maid will take care of it. His mind is in shambles. Today he will need more than to reaffirm his convictions with his daily affirmations. He’ll need to rededicate himself via pain to his greater cause.

Geto reaches into the bottom drawer on his bedside table and retrieves a short black leather cat-o-nine tails. The braided leather seems innocuous enough at first look but upon closer inspection each falling strand branching off the thick handle ends in a metal ball. It’s designed for pain not lasting damage. He stands to go stare in the bathroom mirror, his thighs tensing in anticipation of the pain to come. The first reminder of why he hates those damn monkeys stares back at him in the form of a massive x shaped scar across his chest.

His biceps flex as his toned arm quickly whips the strands of leather over his shoulder. The metal projectiles tied to the dark leather gain speed before harshly connecting with the sensitive flesh of his mid back. His form jerks as the blows hit and a sharp pain lances through him. Internally he’s repeating a mantra of rage and disparagement unto those damn monkeys.

Over time the cracking sound of leather on flesh is punctuated by pained grunts. Geto’s muscles are all tensing now from the onslaught of agony but the blows only grow more excruciating with repetition. Sweat rolls down his stomach and onto the floor. His arms, abs and thighs will all be sore when he finishes. The conditioned muscles strained from the extended time constricting. Not that he will notice with the throbbing in his back. His mind is boiling over with fixation and fury.

When Geto pulls the cat-o-nine back the mirror is splattered with freshly spilled blood; another mess for the maid. A few more hits for good measure before he suddenly ceases. His breathing remains heavy at the end. Gasping like he just fought for his life. Hunched over his white marble bathroom sink his knuckles are white from the pressure of his grip. He can feel blood oozing from his fresh wounds and rolling down his ass and thighs. When he jerks his head up defiantly to stare at his own reflection he’s pleased with the apoplectic rage that greets him. It’s like an old friend, a warm comforting blanket, a mask to hide behind. The tear trails will be easily washed away in his morning shower but the pain and fury will last at least until tomorrow.

Satoru Gojo stands awkwardly outside of the former Time Vessel Association of Tokyo’s Headquarters. Just being near this place gives him the heebie jeebies. Sure this wasn’t the specific facility that Amanai Riko’s body had been brought to but it had been used by the group that had put a hit on her. The buildings were similar in design, only here the facility was crammed into metropolitan Tokyo. If he didn’t have such a strained history with the organization he might have been able to appreciate the front garden and the picture of serenity it provided to passerbys. At the moment he stood on the sidewalk outside the heavy concrete wall partially surrounding the Temple of whatever the hell Suguru had named it. His nerves are frayed from having to venture inside twenty minutes prior. He’s snacking on a bag of sweet and sour jawbreakers to take the edge off his nerves. Shoko smoked, Gojo snacked and Suguru fell apart.

“Satoru, what did I tell you about harassing my staff?” All the knots inside Gojo unravel at the sound of Suguru’s gentle and familiar voice.

Ensuring his outward expression is teasing and relaxed, Gojo turns with a smirk and a raised brow. His mesmerizing azure eyes peek over a pair of dark aviators. “I sincerely doubt the sweet girl at the front desk called it harassment.”

Suguru moves till the two of them are standing side by side facing the street. Gojo has his hands tucked into a leather jacket. The rest of him in dark jeans and a tight fitting washed out black tee. Gojo watches out of the corner of his eye as Suguru folds his own arms over his chest, his hands going to rest inside the fabric of his monk's robes. “You’re right, she didn’t. I did.” Suguru is the picture of serenity, his face relaxed into one of his closed eyed smiles.

Gojo is determined to keep his cool. When he had dropped by last month Suguru had him worked up and furious within minutes. Arguing with Suguru about his “new world view” only made his friend act more vindicated and crazy. This time Gojo is adamant about finding a chink in Geto’s seemingly impenetrable persona. “Must be nice having all these women fawning over you 24/7.” Affecting a feminine voice Gojo simpers, “Oh Master Geto, Master Geto! Tell me, did you insist on that gaudy title?”

Geto doesn’t give the reaction he is hoping for. If anything his smile grows a little wider in amusement. “I did. What can I say? I think it has a certain ring to it when those beneath you are on their knees.” Gojo pauses a bit too long before responding; the reaction prompts Geto to laugh outright. “Don’t tell me you're jealous, Satoru? You’ve always been treated like a God among mortals.”

Gojo scoffs outright at that, a hand going up to brush through his snowy locks. “Is that what this is an inferiority complex on steroids?”

The look Suguru gives him is that of someone chiding a child, “Call it what you want Satoru but my current purpose and goals have always been transparent.”

Gojo feels a bitterness rising up inside him. Transparent? Yes, Suguru had made his goal of genociding the entire non-sorcerer race very clear. Gojo switches back to his earlier tactic before this inevitably leads to him losing his cool. “I think I’m going to screw the hot blonde working at your front desk.” He purposefully uses language he knows the old Geto would have hated due to crassness.

Turning to face Gojo, Geto looks unaffected, “Did you think I’d tell you no?”

Gojo throws on a sly smile, the current banter reminding him of how he would rile Geto years before, “She probably won’t want to screw you anymore after I hit it.”

There’s an unmistakable twitch in Geto’s eyebrow that gives Gojo a rush of adrenaline. He hit some sort of sore spot. The mask goes back up just as quickly though as he responds, “I don’t lower myself to fornicating with monkeys.”

Gojo blinks in confusion, his dark shades sliding down his nose a little as his head cocks to the side. “You don’t-?” Gojo interrupts himself with loud, obnoxious laughter that draws the stares of passersby. His voice is practically dripping with glee as he retorts, “You’re kidding?” He leans closer throwing a familiar arm over his friend's shoulder “You sure weren’t above lowering yourself to make out with monkeys in high school.” Gojo emphasizes the racist slur Geto began using for all non-sorcerers.

Geto nudges Gojo’s arm off, but before Geto can retort Gojo’s head swivels quickly to look into the distance at a curse signature that suddenly appears in the underground metro station two blocks away. It’s an unusual signature. A train station curse isn’t the strange part. That happens all the time. Commuters with work stresses or suicide by train victims can spawn a curse easily. No, the odd factor is this type of curse is usually too weak to travel on its own, preferring to move in larger groups.

Geto has turned as well, the curse apparently attracting his attention too. Gojo is momentarily surprised that Geto can feel something so small at this distance. Gojo’s six eyes grant him a massive radius he can sense even a thimble full of cursed energy in. Geto while far above the average sorcerer should still be unable to-unless? “Is that one of yours?” Gojo asks, his voice a touch tense despite attempts to mask it.

They both already know the answer to that question. Gojo’s six eyes pick up on the thread-sized strand of cursed energy binding Geto’s curse to the non-sorcerer. The curse and host are moving this way.

Geto sounds more than a little irritated when he replies, “And what if it is?”

It’s one thing to hear rumors or even reports of Geto’s atrocities. It’s another to see it in action. Gojo can’t help but be angry; Geto’s new morals directly contradict the ones he had preached to him when they went to school together. Binding a curse to a non-sorcerer is cruel and deadly. No matter the intention, curses when bound, slowly sap a person's life energy until the host dies a painful death. Gojo’s face is cold as he meets Geto’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter, either way I’ll be exercising it.”

There’s a flash of an emotion Gojo can’t define in Geto’s eyes, “Don’t interfere, Satoru.”

Since Geto’s defection multiple reports had come in to Jujutsu High regarding his activities. After taking over this stupid cult and playing puppet master, Geto has been binding curses to wealthy non-sorcerers. He then appears as a savior when he charges his victims insane prices to temporarily remove the curse he applies. This pattern is repeated as long as the host has money left to remove it.

The curse attached to the so-called monkey that started this whole argument is about to pass by the entryway of the temple. Stepping forward Gojo moves onto the sidewalk in front of the compound wall they were resting against. Turning to Geto his lips are twisted in an irritated grin. “You’ll have to find a new monkey to leach cash off because I’m not standing around while-” and there you were.

The second you are in their line of sight, Geto tries to grab Gojo’s arm to yank him back to his side. Gojo’s infinity easily allows him to slip from Geto’s reaching fingers.

You aren’t what Gojo had been expecting..all of Geto’s other reported victims were old men or yakuza thugs with more money than sense. You are young, vibrant and refreshingly happy. A smile graces your lips as if you just thought of something you find funny. Gojo’s eyes scan down you quickly taking in the non-designer but flattering pantsuit you wear. You’re dressed professionally and are clearly on your way to an office job like most of the commuters around you. Why had Geto chosen you of all people to destroy?

Releasing his infinity Gojo purposefully steps into your path. You barely have time to register his broad chest in front of you before you collide into him. The overpriced coffee you had just purchased is slipping through your fingers and bouncing off the sidewalk, the contents splashing you and the person who rammed you’s pants. Your hand reaches out towards the fallen cup as the contents rush down the sidewalk and into a sewer drain. A whine of disappointment escapes your lips as you turn to look at the person who slammed you.

Your eyes are widening in surprise and an easy smile curls on his lips in response. He’s sure he doesn’t look particularly sorry but knows from experience that with his looks you’ll manage to forgive him somehow.

You probably would have hit the ground too if it wasn’t for his strong arm wrapped around your waist. He can tell the exact moment you realize he has his arm around you because you have this doe eyed look as you scramble to say something so he releases you. Reaching his other hand up he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear while exorcising Geto’s curse. “You alright? Watch where you’re going sweetheart.”

Gojo can’t help but grin ear to ear when he feels Geto’s aura wrathfully snapping behind him. Oh now this was an interesting development. “Can you let me go, please?” Gojo blinks and looks down to see your expression mildly irritated rather than the simpering look he usually inspires.

His cheshire smile doesn’t fade as he laughs before releasing you reluctantly, “If you insist.” You look like you're trying to figure out what the hell his game is and he’s more than happy to oblige you with a reason. “Let me buy you a new coffee?”

You look hesitantly around him. Likely in the direction of your workplace, “I-”

“Satoru.” Geto’s tone is an icy warning. The sound catches your attention as you turn to see his friend. This is clearly not your first encounter as your face pales considerably. You’re stumbling over your words as you go to leave, “No-no thank you. I’m good, I need to get to work.” You’re making sure not to break eye contact with Suguru as you practically run away. You look like prey trying to escape from a predator. Afraid if you break eye contact it will pounce.

Gojo watches you run off with a mischievous look in his eyes. Returning to stand by his furious friend he casually comments, “I thought you said you didn’t fuck monkeys?”

Geto sends him an unamused look, “I don’t.”

Gojo hums to himself in consideration before clapping his hands together looking pleased, “Great, then there’s no conflict.” He decides to walk away in the direction you had just gone, his lip curled in a smirk as he looks back at an irritated Suguru. “I can’t wait to see what kind of face she makes while moaning under me.” With a parting wink Satoru teleports away in the direction you had run off in.

Gojo stands on an office building, his six eyes scanning the crowds below. Now that he knows what he is looking for it takes him no time at all to zero in on you as you nervously run down streets. After several blocks you disappear into a nondescript workplace.

Gojo isn’t sure if it’s the fact that he specifically is meddling or that this monkey has Suguru enamored in some way, and at the end of the day Gojo doesn’t care; he had gotten under Geto’s skin. He had finally found a crack in Suguru’s mask and he was definitely going to exploit it. Things were truly about to get interesting.

Chapter 1 ———————————— Chapter 3

#jujutsu kaisen #ao3 fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #quinnyficrelated #suguru geto x reader #yandere suguru geto #yandere jjk #Suguru geto #Gojo Satoru #rape #dead dove do not eat #smut #Geto smut #dark romance #quinnythelibrary

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yuurei20 · 9 months ago

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Jade and Floyd Info Compilation part 36: Halloween and more

Jade has a large role in Halloween as a member of the Halloween management committee and treasurer.

Crowley insists that all dorms were given the same budget for costumes and sets, with Jade keeping an eye out for transgressions.

Kalim seems curious about Octavinelle’s ability to stay within their budget (Jade: “Are you suggesting that I helped them circumvent the rules?”) as he is unhappy about being told he couldn’t spend his own money on Scarabia (by Jade himeslf).

It is Jade who makes the connection that the school’s problem isn’t Magicam or the ghosts but the Magicam Monsters, and that they can save the Halloween party that Crowley is threatening to cancel if they handle the issue of safety.

While the others try to deduce a way to eject the Magicam Monsters without attacking them both twins start to laugh, arriving at a solution (along with Azul) before anyone else.

Jade gives the example of a rental property: “Most lease contracts do not allow a lessor to force a lessee out without a proper reason.""In which case, you have to get them to leave voluntarily…Fear. Danger. Displeasure. Revulsion.”

The students all agree to follow Jade’s idea.

(Jade seems comfortable discussing rental agreements, offering reservations for guest rooms in Octavinelle to the prefect and Grim and encouraging them to rent out Ramshackle’s empty rooms to other students.)

Octavinelle chases Magicam Monsters away through a complex scenario that involves Floyd in his eel form switching places with Jade, Jade pretending to mind-control Azul (forcing him to dance), describing his own death and wrapping visitors in bandages.

Jade goes to a lot of work to fulfill all visitor requests during the Halloween party, impressing both Silver and Riddle, despite how Floyd encourages him to let other people fill in so that he has time to eat.

Jade has a line about being too embarrassed to open his mouth wide while others are watching.

According to several articles on the subject, moray eels opening their mouths wide has been documented as a part of courtship displays.

Both twins seem partial to pranks.

Floyd says that if he were to choose a dorm besides Octavinelle it would be Savanaclaw, for its simple rules of whoever is strongest is at the top, but at the end of the day he prefers Octavinelle.

Jade says he has an inquiring mind: “Whenever I’m curious about something I feel compelled to study it thoroughly.”

He also says that he gets the urge to talk to people if he sees that they are in the middle of a laborious job. “Is that wrong of me?”

Jade says he pays little mind to what other people think of him.

#twisted wonderland #Jadefacts #Floydfacts #twstfacts #twstjade #twstfloyd #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech

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dc-and-arfrona · 1 year ago

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Renting a Movie

—-

Damian Wayne x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1k+

Masterlist

Summary: You meet at a movie rental store. Based of this prompt.

—

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Damian Wayne found himself standing in front of the movie section at the local video store. He had a craving for a good action flick, something that would satisfy his need for adrenaline. As he scanned the shelves, his eyes landed on a title that caught his attention. It was an obscure martial arts movie, known for its intense fight scenes and complex storyline.

Just as Damian reached out to grab the last copy, a hand appeared beside his, also reaching for the same movie. His eyes flickered to the person next to him, and he was surprised to find you, looking at him with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Looks like we have the same taste," you commented, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Damian raised an eyebrow, not accustomed to sharing his movie choices with anyone. "I suppose so," he replied curtly, not willing to give up his chance to watch the film.

"Oh, go ahead. You can have it," you offered graciously, retracting your hand. "I can find something else to watch."

Damian hesitated for a moment, surprised by your willingness to give up the movie. "No, it's fine. You wanted it too," he said, retracting his hand as well. "We can rent it together and watch it."

You blinked, not expecting that response. "Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's not an inconvenience," Damian replied, his voice softening slightly. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have someone to discuss the film with afterward."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you nodded. "All right, then. Let's rent it together."

You both made your way to the counter, renting the movie as well as a few snacks. The anticipation built as you walked back to Damian's place, finding yourselves seated on the couch, the movie ready to play.

As the opening credits rolled, you couldn't help but steal glances at Damian. His intense gaze was fixed on the screen, absorbing every detail. It intrigued you to see this side of him, the vulnerable expression that showed his genuine interest in something.

The movie unfolded, filled with breathtaking fight scenes and intricate plot twists. You found yourself engrossed in the story, sharing reactions and gasps with Damian throughout. Occasionally, your arms brushed against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

During a particularly intense fight scene, you couldn't help but lean in closer to Damian, feeling the warmth radiating from him. It was as if a silent agreement passed between you, drawing you closer together. Your shoulders brushed, and soon enough, Damian's hand found its way to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You glanced at him, surprised but not displeased by the contact. His gaze met yours, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. It was a small, rare moment of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat.

As the movie reached its climax, your grip on Damian's hand tightened, matching the rising tension on the screen. The final fight scene played out, and when the credits rolled, you both sat there for a moment, catching your breath.

"That was... incredible," you managed to say, your voice filled with awe.

Damian nodded, a genuine smile forming on his face. "I have to admit, it was a worthwhile choice."

You leaned back against the couch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. "Thank you for sharing this movie with me, Damian."

He turned to you, his eyes softening. "No, thank you. I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much if it weren't for you."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It was an unexpected connection, formed over a shared movie experience, and you knew it was the start of something more.

From that day forward, you and Damian found yourselves sharing more movie nights, discovering new films together and unraveling different aspects of each other's personalities. It was an unexpected bond, born from a simple coincidence at a video store, but one that brought joy and companionship to both of you.

And as you snuggled closer to Damian, a bowl of popcorn between you, you couldn't help but think that sometimes, the best moments in life came from unexpected beginnings.

After the movie, Damian and you found themselves immersed in conversation, discussing their favorite scenes, analyzing the character development, and sharing their interpretations of the film's deeper meanings. They discovered a shared passion for cinema and a genuine connection through their discussions.

Their movie nights became a regular occurrence, with Damian suggesting a wide range of genres, from action-packed blockbusters to indie dramas. They took turns picking the films, enjoying the opportunity to introduce each other to their personal favorites.

As they spent more time together, Damian's stoic exterior gradually softened, revealing a more relaxed and lighthearted side of him. He opened up about his life as Robin and his struggles with balancing his duties as a hero with his personal desires. You, in turn, shared their own dreams and aspirations, forming a bond built on trust and understanding.

Outside of movie nights, they explored other shared interests, such as going on hikes, visiting art galleries, and even attending a comic book convention together. Their friendship continued to grow stronger, evolving into something deeper.

One evening, as they settled in for another movie night, Damian turned to you with a contemplative expression. "You know," he began, his voice laced with vulnerability, "I'm grateful for our movie nights. They've become an important part of my life."

You smiled, their heart fluttering at his words. "I feel the same way, Damian. Our movie nights have brought so much joy and meaning to my life too."

Damian reached for your hand, his fingers interlacing with theirs. "Perhaps... we can make more than just movie nights. Maybe we can explore the possibility of... something more."

Your breath caught in their throat, overwhelmed by the depth of Damian's words. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, they nodded. "I'd like that, Damian. Let's explore this... something more together."

And from that moment on, their movie nights took on a whole new level of intimacy and romance. They became a couple, sharing not only their love for movies but also their dreams, fears, and everything in between.

Together, they embarked on a journey, not just as partners but as two individuals who found solace and companionship in the most unexpected of places. And as they snuggled up on the couch, ready to watch yet another film, they knew that their love story would continue to unfold, one movie at a time.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #robin x reader #damian wayne x y/n #robin x y/n #damian wayne imagines #dc imagines #dc x reader #dc x y/n #dc universe #damian wayne x you

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faeriekit · 1 year ago

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How to get a library card: the whole process.

Call your local library. Ask them how to get one.

Do what they tell you

The end.

...Okay I'm kidding.

Call your local library. Every library will have its own restrictions, so make sure that you double check with the library that you are in their service area and ask how to confirm such when you go in.

They usually ask you for documents, such as proof that you're a real human and proof that you live/work/are educated in their service area. This usually means going in with your driver's license, and if you're new in town, going in with a license plus your water bill/cell bill/electricity bill/rental agreement/credit bill to prove that you're paying something official at this address in town. If you're from out of the country but living here, that means whatever paper you need to prove you're tied to an address here plus your passport. Doesn't matter if it's foreign. It's from your government. It counts. If you're going to school/working, you might need to bring in a work id or school id, or even a bill or pay stub.

BUT you may be able to fill out half the paperwork online. This is why you call ahead to find out if they have a digital form on their website. This saves you from filling out the paper form in person.

You go in and fill out the paper form/confirm you did it digitally and show off your documents. Usually they just slap a card on the table right then HOWEVER:

Sometimes public libraries cost money for their cards. I consider this highway robbery. You may qualify for a card in a different service area, so don't immediately fork over $60 bucks or whatever they're asking without checking other libraries around you.

You might qualify for cards for more than one library, see above; some college libraries will let locals make cards, and some public libraries will let you make cards if you go to school or work in the area.

Yes, you can email your library instead of call, but we can guide you over the phone a lot faster than we can by email, and honestly, the immediate response of a phone is going to be way faster than trying to email us.

Sometimes there are other, secret fees, like charging you to borrow only certain items and not others. This has never made sense to me.

There may be other secrets your library card may offer you, such as ebooks or shows through libby/hoopla, museum passes, kits, and more! Ask what other services your library card offers you while you're at the desk!

There have been libraries giving out free cards to teens and those in censorship-affected areas in recent years. Keep an eye out for people who are advertising such online and follow up with that library following steps 1-3

Happy reading, happy listening, and happy visiting! Remember: read banned books, and don't talk to cops!

#Library posting

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sunsafewriting · 2 years ago

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Do A Flip - chapter 4 excerpt (full chapter will be finished and uploaded soon).

Lilith.

“— so Bea and I are gonna get a place together,” Ava concludes happily, moving her little figurine four places and handing Camila literally all of her money, because Camila now owns both blue hotels. “Which is cool, right?”

It’s actually fucking ridiculous, but no one at the table will say so. Even Lilith, because Shannon, Mary, and Camila are all glaring at her, like she can’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut. Which she can, thank you very much.

If Ava and Beatrice want to escalate their bullshit, that’s their business. As long as Lilith is never expected to set foot inside their apartment, then Lilith will continue her reluctant detente with Ava. No matter what Shannon says, it is a detente unless Lilith actually hits Ava. Threatening her doesn’t count.

And — fine. Lilith can admit that Ava’s not the worst person out there, She’s too energetic and too annoying and has such a bad sense of humour that Lilith has taken to just walking away if she so much as starts to look vaguely amused, but Ava’s not as irresponsible as Lilith first took her for. She shows up for the kid, and she shows up for Beatrice. And so Lilith has begrudgingly afforded Ava a spot on the list of people she’ll actually spend time around. Only if her company is diluted by the presence of others, of course; Lilith’s not going to do anything crazy, like hang out with her one-on-one.

“That is very cool,” Camila replies, adding Ava’s cash to the small mountain already piled up in front of her.

Ava takes two fifties from Beatrice’s stash — utterly blatant in her cheating, utterly unbothered by it. “It’s a loan, Bea. I’ll pay you back.”

“I’m sure.”

“Anyway, it’ll suck that we won’t be neighbours anymore,” Ava says to Camila, “but I can come visit. And you can come over to our place whenever.”

Somehow, Shannon must actually see the words just make sure you knock form in Lilith’s mind, because she nudges Mary, who kicks Lilith under the table.

“Are you staying in the area?” Shannon asks smoothly.

“Everything’s here, like Bea’s uni and St Michael’s, so we’re gonna try.”

“I talked to the landlord about keeping our apartment, but he wants to turn it into an AirBnB,” Beatrice adds, with no small amount of judgement in her voice.

Lilith has already heard Beatrice’s lecture about rental policies and tenant protection. Ava has, too. At least they were all in the car together at the time, which meant that Lilith wasn’t subjected to that look Ava gets on her face when Beatrice really starts in on a tangent about something.

“It’s a shit market,” Mary agrees. “You’ve got to know someone.”

There’s a general grumbling of agreement.

Lilith sighs. “I know someone,” she admits. If her mother could see Lilith now, offering something without getting anything in return — not even a signed agreement preventing Ava from practically sitting in Beatrice’s lap when they do movie nights — she’d disown her. “Neil from my Thursday class is going back to the States, so he needs someone to take over his lease. His street is close to the kid. And your stupid bar.”

All of them turn to her.

She shrugs, uncomfortable, then bails, going back to the kitchen to pour herself another drink. At least Mary keeps good gin here.

Because no good deed goes unpunished, Ava follows after her, smiling entirely too much like someone who thinks Lilith is being nice to her, and not enough like someone who appreciates that Lilith was only trying to avoid having to listen to Ava complain.

“You could really set that up?” Ava asks.

“Yes.”

Neil has never said no to Lilith. But then, that’s a power she has over most people. It’s probably something to do with being tall and hot and smart and accomplished.

“That would be very, very awesome of you.”

“Mm.”

Ava, with unprecedented audacity, takes the bottle of gin right out of Lilith’s hands.

“What are you —”

“Hush. You’ll like it,” she says, grabbing a few other things from the cupboard and carefully pouring it all into the cup.

Lilith allows this, even if only because Ava’s confidence in her bartending could stand to be taken down a peg — Beatrice has been brainwashed by Ava’s outfits; there’s no way her drinks are that good, if you’re not distracted by the low-cut tops — and Lilith is giving herself a freebie to be a bit mean.

Ava finishes mixing her elaborate nonsense and hands the cup back to Lilith, watching her expectantly.

Lilith takes a sip.

It’s really fucking excellent, and she’s not fast enough to stop pleasant surprise from showing on her face.

“Ha!” Ava crows, smacking her hand against the countertop. “You like it. And you like me.”

“I don’t like you,” Lilith bites back. “I like Beatrice. And Diego.”

Beatrice is always going to be a sister to her, in the way that Lilith understands sisters: as people whose stupidity you tolerate because a part of you is contingent on their presence in your life; people who understand you, sometimes too much. And Diego — well, one time, he’d let her trick Ava into leaning against wet paint, and she’d returned the favour by letting him tell her about underground turtles, so that’s something.

But Ava is undeterred. “They’re my favourite people, so you liking them means that I like you. Too bad.”

Lilith takes another sip of her drink. It doesn’t miraculously drop in quality, and Ava remains regrettably gleeful. “I could squash you.”

“I know.”

Lilith hates how certain Ava seems that she won’t.

Here's the link to the earlier chapters if you're interested: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43728831

#on god i am going to reply to the comments on ch4 as they made my life im just slow #anyway thanks to everyone who is reading !#the new chap is 13.4k now rip so that's why it's taking so mf long #and yet i still didn't manage to fit any plot in #sunsafewriting #avatrice

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polizwrites · 3 months ago

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Operation Sea and Surf

This is a fill for today’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF266 Great Expectations] as well as my @thisorthatevents Tony Stark This or That: Row 7: Beach Day prompt and my @tonystarkbingo K2 - Miscommunication square.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Tony & the rest of the Avengers team (background Tony/Pepper) Tags: Post-Avengers (2012) canon compatible, Team as Family, Miscommunication, A touch of angst, but overall happy ending Summary: Tony rents a beach house in hopes of getting the Avengers together for a bit of team bonding; things don’t quite go as planned. Word Count: 837

Tony couldn’t understand what had happened. He’d asked JARVIS to inform the other Avengers that he’d rented a beach house out on the Island for the weekend … and no one had shown up. He’d thought that after the whole Battle of New York deal that maybe they could be more than just - as old One-Eye had put it - “a group of remarkable individuals”. That instead of just co-workers, or teammates … that maybe they could be friends, too.

Not that Tony had ever been all that great at making friends. Here he was, in his mid-forties and two of the three people he thought of as friends were people that were on his payroll. (Well, technically he and Happy were on Pepper’s payroll now, but the concept still applied.)

Clearly he’d set his expectations too high. At least Pepper had called and said she’d be running late due to a last minute meeting, adding that Happy was sticking around to give her a ride. Tony was just about ready to call her back and say not to bother when his phone rang.

He checked the screen and sighed. “Hey, Bruce,” he greeted his fellow Science Bro, trying hard not to let his disappointment come through in his voice. The poor guy had probably been tagged to let Tony know that everyone else had ‘other plans.’

“Uh, Tony? Where are you?”

“What do you mean, where am I?”

“We’re all here at the address JARVIS gave us – and there’s no-one home.”

Tony glanced out the window to the front drive of the house; it was empty. “What the… hold on a sec.” He tapped another button on his phone. “JARVIS? What address did you give the team?”

“The one you gave me: 1279 Cliff Drive. Based on your current location, it seems you transposed two numbers in your message.”

“Son of a bitch!” Tony burst out laughing as he re-connected with Bruce.” Okay - so for someone who is supposed to be really good with numbers, I screwed up the address that J passed along. How about you guys come meet me at 1729 Cliff Drive instead?”

A half-hour later, the spacious beach house was full of music and laughter. Thor had carried the groceries in from where they’d been dropped off on the porch, and Bruce had taken on the task of unloading them. “You remembered I’m a vegetarian, didn’t you, Tony?” he asked, staring in disbelief at the various slabs and chunks of meat Thor was eagerly eying.

“Sure did,” Tony called out from where he’d been recruited to spray sunscreen on Natasha’s swimsuit-clad form, “there should be the makings for saag paneer somewhere in those bags.”

“You sure I can’t set up a zipline to the beach?” Clint asked, brandishing his bow and quiver. “I’ve got a grappling arrow and plenty of cable right here.”

“Yeah - I don’t think that’s covered in the rental agreement, Hawkeye.” Tony chuckled. “You’ll have to use the stairs like everyone else.” Which wasn’t exactly true; Tony had brought his boots and gauntlets for his own jaunt down the bluffs to the beach. Although he’d give Pepper a ride, if she felt up to it.

Speaking of whom … “JARVIS, would you happen to have an ETA on my lovely CEO and forehead of security?” Tony asked as he strode out to the deck, where Steve was sitting with a sketchbook.

“They should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes, Sir.”

“Thanks.” Tony pocketed his phone as he joined Steve. “Figured you’d appreciate the view.”

“It’s a lot different from the Coney Island beach, for sure,” Steve replied with a laugh, and then sobered. “I’ve got some sketches in here I’d like you to see.” He flipped the page. “Look familiar?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Steve had detailed drawings -presumably from memory - of one of the weapons from the helicarrier. The ones meant to be powered by the Tesseract. “I’ve got copies of all those files Banner and I were looking at just before things got interesting up there. And then I went digging deeper.”

“What have you found?” Steve asked, his expression serious.

“Some stuff that I don’t think even Fury knows about. Something called Project Insight that I really, really don’t like the looks of.” Which included references to something – someone – codenamed Winter Soldier that had turned his stomach.

“That said,” Tony rubbed his hand over his face, “this was supposed to be a fun weekend. A team bonding kinda thing. You know, sun, surf, ridiculous amounts of food and drink. Can we table this for a few days?”

“Sure, Tony,” Steve replied with a nod. “And once again, I am so sorry for the things –”

“All water under the bridge, Cap.” Tony broke in. They’d both already apologized for the scepter-fueled insults they’d thrown at one another and Tony was more than ready to move on. “Speaking of water, how about you grab your star-spangled swim trunks and join the rest of us on the beach?”

#writing stuff #fanficlet #tony stark #avengers #Avengers as Family #shameless self promo

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coochiequeens · 8 months ago

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Yes it's form a conservative source. But it's one of the few articles that doesn't focus on reproductive purchasers who felt entitled to a child.

by Emma Waters, @EMLWATERS

Olivia Maurel was 30 years old when an ancestry DNA test confirmed what she had known all along: she is the product of a costly commercial surrogacy contract. In Olivia’s case, the woman that her parents paid to gestate and birth Olivia is also her biological mother.

In a recent article with Daily Mail, Olivia shared how “becoming a parent myself — entirely naturally, in my mid-20s — has only crystallized my view. The sacred bond between mother and baby is, I feel, something that should never be tampered with.” After going viral for her testimony before the parliament of the Czech Republic, Olivia now campaigns for the universal abolition of surrogacy.

In the United States, only three states prohibit or do not enforce commercial surrogacy contracts. One of the states, Michigan, is poised to overturn their ban on surrogacy-for-pay through a nine-bill “Access to Fertility Healthcare Package.” Legislators are tying their efforts to the national conversation on in vitro fertilization in hopes of garnering additional support. I detail the concerns with this legislation in detail here, but suffice it to say it undermines motherhood by reducing the intimate relationship between a woman and the child she carries to a highly-lucrative rental agreement.

Several well-respected researchers and pundits claim that surrogacy does not harm children. Yet we know very little about its long-term impact on a child’s psychological well-being.

Most of those who assert that surrogacy is psychologically harmless rely on a longitudinal study by Susan Golombok, Professor Emerita of Family Research, and former Director of the Centre for Family Research at the University of Cambridge. She is the author of We Are Family (2020), a synthesis of 40 years of research on non-traditional family structures—same-sex, single parent by choice, and the use of all forms of assisted reproductive technology, including third-party conception. She concludes that such arrangements pose no additional harm and can benefit children.

Professor Golombok’s “Families Created Through Surrogacy” study began in 2003 and assessed parental and child psychological adjustment at ages 1, 2, 3, 7, 10, and 14. The impact of this single longitudinal study on both public opinion and policy cannot be overstated. To date, it is the only study that specifically examines the surrogate-born child’s psychological adjustment, as well as the only study to do so over an extended period. It is also the only research on child psychological well-being that policymakers in New York used to argue for the legalization of commercial surrogacy.

Professor Golombok’s sample of surrogacy families comes from the General Register Office of the United Kingdom for National Statistics (ONS) and from the UK’s “Childlessness Overcome Through Surrogacy” (COTS) agency. The original sample included 42 surrogate-born children but declined to a mere 28 children by age 14. The study relied on a group of families formed through egg donation and children born of natural conception to serve as the comparison groups.

With such a small sample size, and some families participating inconsistently year-to-year, the study itself runs the risk of selection bias and non-representative outcomes. The study lumps both children born through gestational surrogacy and traditional surrogacy together, too. This means some surrogates are both the genetic mother and the child's gestational mother.

Additionally, only altruistic surrogacy is legal in the UK, so these arrangements do not involve surrogates who legally receive an additional sum of money, beyond generous reimbursements. For context, surrogacy-for-pay brings in an additional $25,000 to $70,000 in the United States, which may affect how a child views his or her conception, gestation, and birth.

In each study, the scholars rely on the mother’s own assessment of the child’s well-being. It is not until age 14 when scholars begin to directly ask children questions to assess their self-esteem.

Overall, Professor Golombok concludes that children born from surrogacy agreements of any sort do as well, if not better, psychologically than their natural-born peers.

For ages 1, 2, and 3, Professor Golombok finds that parents in surrogacy families showed “greater warmth and attachment-related behavior” than natural-conception parents. One explanation for this, as Professor Golombok’s notes, is that “parents of children born in this way [may] make a greater attempt than parents of naturally conceived children to present their families in the best possible light.” Such a bias seems likely, given that parents may feel the subconscious desire to justify their uncommon path to parenthood.

By age 7, both surrogate-born children and donor-conceived children in the control group were doing noticeably worse than their natural-born counterparts. This is the point when many children learned of their biological or gestational origins. The scholars note that this corresponds with adoption literature as the period in a child’s life when they begin to comprehend the loss of one or both biological parents. What goes unnoted, however, is that unlike adoption, surrogacy is the intentional creation of a child for the express purpose of removing the child from his or her gestational and/or biological parent(s).

Beginning at age 10, scholars report that the child’s psychological adjustment returns to a relatively normal state compared to the natural-born children, but the study itself reports little data compared to previous papers. By age 14, when the study concludes, the remaining 28 children seem to fare about the same as natural-born children, despite slightly more psychological problems reported.

Despite these methodological limitations, Professor Golombok’s data from this longitudinal study remains the basis of child psychological adjustment research on surrogacy. Examples of this may be found in prominent pieces such as Vanessa Brown Calder's review of surrogacy at the Cato Institute or Cremieux Recueil's widely shared Substack with Aporia Magazine. Their conclusions that surrogacy confers “no harm” to the psychological well-being of the child are premature, to say the least.

In Calder’s article, she cites three studies in her discussion on the psychological well-being of surrogate-born children. A quick review of each study shows that these authors rely solely on Professor Golombok’s longitudinal study data to draw their conclusions.

In Recueil’s Substack, "Surrogacy: Looking for Harm," he primarily relies on Golombok’s work to claim that “psychological harm appears to be minimal.” Again, this statement is premature and formed on limited data primarily from her longitudinal study. The other five citations in the “Psychological Outcomes for Kids” section tell us little about the psychological well-being of surrogate-born children.

Recueil twice cites “Are the Children Alright? A Systematic Review of Psychological Adjustment of Children Conceived by Assisted Reproductive Technologies,” from 2022. Of the 11 studies that examine the intersection between surrogacy and child psychological outcomes, they fall into three categories:

the longitudinal study by Professor Golombok

child outcomes compared with other children born from assisted reproductive technology, not compared with natural-born children

studies that examine the impact of non-traditional parenting types, such as lesbian mothers or gay fathers, on the well-being of the child. The impact of surrogacy is not directly assessed; it is simply mentioned as a requirement for male-to-male family formation. Of these three categories, the only studies that directly address the claims that Recueil makes are the research of Professor Golombok, which he already cited before these additional studies.

Hence, the widespread claim that surrogacy does not harm the psychological well-being of children primarily relies on a single longitudinal study of 42-to-28 surrogate-born children by the intended mother’s own assessment. That’s it.

This isn’t to say we should discard Professor Golombok’s study. But honest scholars and lawmakers should be far more modest in claiming that surrogacy does not harm the psychological well-being of children.

The most accurate conclusion regarding the psychological adjustment of surrogate-born children is that we do not have enough data to draw a conclusion either way, especially not in favor of surrogacy itself. When the well-being of children is at stake, lawmakers and researchers should employ the utmost scrutiny before advocating for any form of childbearing.

Children rightly desire to please their parents, and there are few conversations more complicated than questioning the method one’s parents chose to bring one into the world. There is reason to believe that many surrogate-born children will not have the emotional or mental maturity to understand their conception and gestation until they are much older.

There is a huge difference between no harm and no known harm. Regardless of one’s stance on surrogacy, we should be able to agree that we need more data and reporting requirements to enable researchers to assess the impact of surrogacy contracts on the well-being of children. In my view, a single six-part longitudinal study does not justify this practice.

Emma Waters is a Senior Research Associate for the Richard and Helen DeVos Center for Life, Religion and Family at The Heritage Foundation.

#Anti surrogacy sunday #Surrogacy exploits women #Babies are not commodities #Surrogacy is human trafficking #michigan #Access to Fertility Healthcare Package #General Register Office of the United Kingdom for National Statistics (ONS)#Childlessness Overcome Through Surrogacy” (COTS)#Surrogacy is the intentional creation of a child for the express purpose of removing the child from his or her gestational and/or biologica #Small sample size for a study #The results are based on answers given by a biased parent #We need more studies before experts can say weather or not surrogacy impacts children #There is a huge difference between no harm and no known harm

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nico-di-genova · 1 year ago

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Paperwork and Chinese Food

Summary: It was just supposed to be a normal date. Jaime wasn't meant to get so overwhelmed that he launches himself from Jenny's balcony in a desperate search for the air that has left his lungs.

Inspired by a prompt from @averagemartian: too much information. TW: panic attacks

It starts with Jenny. Or really, that’s not fair, because in honesty she’s just the catalyst. What really starts it is the itch at Jaime’s back, where Khaji Da is embedded into his skin, their six little legs like needle points in his spine. It’s the sort of itch that doesn’t go away, a constant low-level annoyance that is now just part of his life. He wants to scratch at it so bad, gouge at the enflamed skin around where Khaji had formed their new home, until he can bury his fingers inside himself and get to the source. He’s taken to picking at his back subconsciously, when he’s sitting down and watching a movie, in the kitchen of their rental listening to Milagro explain to their mother why she’s covered in paint, laying in his bed late at night when he can’t sleep because his brain refuses to conform to anything regarding a normal sleep cycle. He will dig his fingernails into the skin at the notch of his spine, until he’s just there – can feel the promise of reaching that damned itch.

He’s picking at it now even as he’s sat in Jenny’s house – or apartment really, a luxury unit on the top floor where she has a wraparound balcony and a view of most of Palmera. It’s the sort of place Jaime had always thought he would end up, before he realized all of his problems wouldn’t be solved with a piece of paper that cost him six figures of debt. They’ve set up at Jenny’s dining room table. It’s elegant, modern, and made from reclaimed wood that’s been stained and sanded down until it looks less like the notched and un-level version that’s in Jaime’s house – used to be. Used to be in his house, before it went up in flames with the rest of what he had always regarded as home.

Before him is spread a mountain of paperwork. Lease agreements, legal documents, financial statements, all of it scattered across the surface of the table in a chaotic mess that sets Jaime, who is already tense, on edge. Jaime’s name is stamped in clean script across most of the paperwork, because he has been noted as the beneficiary of Kord Industries’ gracious “rebuild the Edge Keys that were stolen from the people who were there first” grant. Jaime went to law school, or at least pre-law, he knows how the corporate paper trail works. If Kord is going to shell out millions of dollars in reparative funds to the family whose home they had first been planning to steal, and then ultimately destroyed, they want his signature as collateral. They’ll take these documents, file them away neatly in a folder stamped ‘Reyes Incident – 2023’, and hand it all over to their legal department who will keep it carefully stashed away from now until the event that took his father from him fades into irrelevancy.

Elbows on the table, arms pressed against his neck so he can feel the reassuring pressure, his fingernails dig further against the notch of his spine, until he can feel one of Khaji’s pincers shift. The bug themself chirps, alarmed, in his head.

“Are you alright, Jaime?”

“What is all this?” Jaime directs his question at Jenny, ignoring Khaji. Even though he already knows what the mound of papers are, he’s still trying to grasp that this is why Jenny invited him over. The dinner she’d ordered in for them is already going cold on the plates she’d placed everything on – an effort to feign a home cooked meal. He doesn’t want to eat orange chicken and fried rice, even if his stomach feels cavernously empty, he knows it would taste like guilt on his tongue and stick heavy in his throat.

“It’s just Kord stuff, it’s not a big deal, just some stuff they need you to sign before they release the money.”

Not a big deal.

Jaime tries to draw in a breath, already feeling the beginnings of anxiety threading its way through his veins. It’s a cold feeling, like ice water is trickling slowly through him and pooling in his gut. He thinks of Milagro’s tear streaked face, the way she had screamed his name, like they were kids, and he was the big brother who was going to bandage her skinned knee and convince her to get back on her bike. Like he was going to fix it all. His hands shake, his breathing stutters.

“I went over everything myself. It’s just the standard stuff, just a formality really. We’re still going to give you the money Jaime, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” Jaime manages, and it comes out venomous. There’s a buzzing building at the base of his skull, a staticky sound. Jaime wonders if it’s maybe Khaji, if they’ve somehow found a way to manifest as more than just a voice and are now buzzing around inside his head like a trapped fly.

Jenny reaches across the table until she’s close enough to brush her hand gently along his bicep. The soothing gesture burns and he flinches away from her.

“Jaime…”

The buzzing grows louder. Jaime looks at the paperwork and it seems to grow in size, it spills off the table, across the tiled floor, fills up the space of the room until Jaime is choking on his own name written in ink. He cannot breathe.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Jenny tries again, still trying to reach for him, to touch him, to keep him tethered here. Jaime thinks of a metal collar heavy around his neck, and then he’s stumbling out of the chair so fast that it clatters to the ground behind him. He trips over his own feet as he blindly stumbles for an escape.

Jenny is still calling for him. He knows none of this is her fault, distantly, he knows that. She is just trying to fix what her aunt broke, and Jaime wants to let her. He wants her to wave some magic wand that he’s always assumed wealth would grant, and for everything to be fixed. He’d have his home back, the photos on the wall, the blankets on the couch, the quiet whir of nana’s sewing machine and the tv playing reruns of his favorite cartoons. He’d have his dad sitting beside him on the couch, and Jaime could curl up against him the way he used to when he was little. He tries to stay in the comfort of that lost place, but the fire finds its way in. There’s a blazing inferno hot against his face, and the paralyzing pain of an electric current keeping him frozen to the spot – forcing him to watch again and again as everything he has ever loved crumbles into nothing.

Jenny manages to grab at him and get ahold of his wrist. He can feel his heartbeat thundering against where the pads of her fingers rest just over his pulse point, can hear the rush of blood in his ears. Benefits of having an other-worldly bug buried in his spine and heightening his senses, or a side effect of his worsening panic, Jaime isn’t sure which.

"Hey. Jaime, look at me,” Jenny pleads.

He tries. He really does, but he gets as far as the worried furrow of her brow before he knows he can’t be here and yanks away with a force that must be Khaji’s doing. He doesn’t ask them to get him out, but Khaji is in his brain now, so they must sense the silent scream building within him. He’s encased in the protective layer of his suit and out on Jenny’s balcony before he can really process any of it.

When Jenny screams his name, scared and confused and mixing with the screams of his little sister that he cannot block out, Jaime is already being launched into the sky.

“You need to breathe, Jaime,” Khaji warns.

Jaime tries, but the air sticks in his chest like a brick. He chokes on a sob and claws at the front of his suit with blind alarm. With the helmet tight around his head and his own half breaths loud in his ears, Jaime cannot think past the base instinct of needing to escape. It is all too much, everything. The itch at his back, the papers on the table, the suit tight on his skin, the quiet sobs he hears coming from his mother’s room every night, it’s drowning him. It’s killing him.

“You are not dying,” Khaji says, factual, “you are experiencing a heightened state of emotional distress. I cannot regulate your nervous system if you will not listen to me, Jaime.”

“I’m trying.”

“You are scared. I understand. But we are safe now.”

Jaime feels tears prick at the corners of his vision, feels saliva pooling in his mouth, feels like he might vomit.

“I can’t breathe,” he cries out to Khaji, hoping they will understand.

When the helmet falls away from him, Jaime sobs in relief. The cool wind rushing against his face chills the heat that has been steadily crawling up his neck and collecting on his cheeks. It dries the tears tacky against his skin. He has always sought out height when feeling overwhelmed. Once, it had been the roof of his house, where he could stand and see the skyline of Palmera in the distance. In college he’d frequented the Wayne building, which housed the school of engineering and also doubled as the tallest building on campus. The door to the roof was usually unlocked, and if not, Jaime would just find the nearest window and open it so he could sit with his legs hanging out over the sill. The height, it soothed something inside him; if he could get high enough he could look down and see the bigger picture of it all. He could feel less live everything was crashing down on him.

Khaji has learned this, in the way that they have learned everything else about him.

“This is the highest you can go without the helmet,” the scarab intones, and then stalls the boosters of the suit so that they hover above the city which has grown small beneath him.

“Are you now able to breathe?”

Jaime tries, finds the air fills his lungs just a little bit easier, and nods, “Y-yeah. Thanks, Khaj.”

"Of course, Jaime.”

They stay there until Jaime comes back to himself, until the fire in his mind is dulled to a simmer, and Jaime can pack everything away neatly. He will sort through it all later, preferably when he’s with his mom and they can lean on each other for support. He will let her hold him as they both cry and he will ask for the horchata she was fond of making him in high school – when homework would weigh him down and he’d emerge from his room past midnight with a headache and an empty stomach. It wouldn’t fix everything, Jaime knows that, but he thinks it could help soothe it all over.

He closes his eyes, breathes deep. It’s quiet here, high above the earth, where not even the distant sound of traffic or music or any indication of life can find him. Jaime floats in a sea of stars, the whisps of clouds, and he feels finally at peace. When he looks back at Palmera’s blinking cluster of lights beneath him, he feels maybe like things will one day be okay.

Khaji returns him to Jenny’s reluctantly, and only at his request. They’re unsure about taking him back to the place that had triggered his panic attack in the first place, but Jaime knows that’s only because it goes against their directive of protecting him. They keep the suit on him, mainly because his clothes have burned away, but also as a layer of defense.

When he lands on Jenny’s balcony, stumbling only slightly because flight is still a foreign concept to him, she is there waiting for him. He can tell from the way she’s curled up on the patio furniture, hair pulled into a messy bun and biting nervously at her thumb, that she hasn’t been back inside since he took off. She’s been waiting for him. When she spots him, she’s on her feet and in his arms in the span it takes for him to blink twice.

“Oh thank god,” she cries, one hand cupping the back of his neck and the other burying itself in the tangled strands of his hair. The pure relief in her voice is enough to make Jaime melt against her.

“I’m okay,” he promises, hugging her back. He hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck, and holds her like an apology. She’s not good with abrupt departures.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs against him, “I wasn’t thinking.”

Jaime pulls away enough to look her in the eye, cups her face in his hands and wipes away the tears with a blue gloved thumb, “Hey. Hey. It’s okay, I’m okay. I just…I just needed some fresh air.”

Jenny nods, sniffles, “Yeah, I know. Your sister told me.”

At the confusion that filters across his face, she holds up her phone in answer.

"I called her. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jaime opens his mouth to say something but instead it’s a half laugh that escapes him. The sound surprises him a little because it feels out of place. But something about his girlfriend frantically calling his baby sister to explain that he’s just blasted off into the atmosphere because of paperwork and Chinese food is funnier than it should be. Jenny smiles before she’s laughing too, and then they’re just two teary eyed idiots giggling on her balcony. Jenny still in her slacks and suit jacket from work and Jaime in his superhero suit.

Eventually Jaime will explain that Kord’s money feels dirty to him, tainted in his father’s blood and dropped at his feet. It’s more than simply signing his name, it feels like giving away a piece of himself, and Jenny will look horrified as he says it. She forgets sometimes, how her wealth has shaped her worldview, and it’s Jaime who puts that in a startling perspective. He’s thankful for her help, but he won’t give any more of himself to Kord.

“My money then,” Jenny will say, “you can take mine. I’ll move some stuff around, I’ll get you what you need. Just enough to rebuild your house. No paperwork, no strings.”

“Jenny-”

“You need your home back, Jaime. You and your family. This is how I can help, please let me do this.”

The paperwork that had loomed before Jaime earlier still sits like a threat at the dining room table, so they sit cross-legged across from each other on the balcony, close enough that Jaime can pick at the fabric of her leggings covered knee. Jaime’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that he’s started to keep in her room, Jenny’s wearing one of his Nightwing shirts he left during his last visit. They’re sharing a bowl of reheated Kung Pao chicken because Jaime’s hunger had finally set in somewhere between him landing back on the ground and the length of time it took him to figure out how to get Khaji to pack the suit away.

Jaime picks at the rice in the bowl with a chopstick and thinks. The money will still technically be Kord’s, given that Jenny is their CEO now. Which is also another thing that seems insane to think about. He is dating the leader of one of the world’s top tech companies, he’s been in tabloid photos as “Jennifer Kord’s unnamed beau.” It borders on overwhelming, so he quickly pushes that to the back of his mind and eats another bite of chicken.

“You do realize this isn’t going to help the Maria accusations,” Jaime says around a mouthful of food, already picturing how his family is going to break out in that damn theme song when they hear.

Jenny smiles, there’s a hint of relief in her eyes, “Yes. But it won’t be like that. It will be just enough to get you guys back to where you were, and then the rest will be all you.”

Jaime knows it’s what needs to be done. He knows his family is sick of sleeping in beds that aren’t theirs, in a temporary rental that reeks of cigarette smoke. They need their own space back, and this is realistically the only way they’re going to get it – since clearly Jaime’s four-year degree is shaping up to be worth absolutely nothing. And he knows Jenny, knows that she’s one of the most honest people he’s ever met. He trusts her, and it’s only because he does that he accepts the offer.

“Okay. Yeah.”

"Yeah?”

“Yes, but only enough to rebuild the house. Nothing fancy. Just…just the same house, okay?” And he knows it won’t be the same, not in the way he means in, but Jenny understands that too and he thinks that’s maybe why they work.

“The same house, I swear,” she says before leaning forward to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky traces of kung pao chicken behind.

She’s the first to head inside. Jaime stays out for a minute to take in a few lungful’s of fresh air, his nerves are still frayed and will be until he finally crashes into exhaustion later tonight. He leans on the railing of the balcony and listens to the sirens, horns, the drone of an airplane overhead. Khaji unfurls from where they’d been resting inside him, and he can feel them taking in the city the same way he is.

“You are still operating at a high stress level,” Khaji says, and it almost sounds like a question, or at least as close to a question as her robotic voice can get.

“Always, Khaj. I’ll be okay, though.”

When Jaime does finally go inside, the papers have been cleared from the table. He doesn’t see them again.

#blue beetle #jaime reyes #jenny kord #jaime reyes x jenny kord #my fic #blue beetle fic #i just really love Jaime and think he deserves nice things #but also he is my milk soaked webkins cat that i like to slam into the wall #i'm also on a mission to make him a nightwing stan

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thatfanfictionchick · 2 years ago

Text

MLQC - About that night

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Helios x Reader x Shaw

Rating: Explicit NSFW

Warnings: Talk of infidelity; Alcohol consumption; Threesome; Vaginal fingering; Vaginal intercourse; Oral sex; Multiple orgasms;

Word count: 5146

Notes: For the user that pointed out the link was dead because the co-writer is deactivated! This was originally posted in 2020? 2021? Anyway, enjoy!

╚═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╝

New Year's Eve.

I had just broken up with my longtime boyfriend, and my two best friends promised me a night that would make me forget he ever existed. Reluctantly, I agreed to let them whisk me away to a party at a local hotel bar, complete with a suite rental so we didn't have to worry about driving home after consuming an obscene number of drinks. I had no idea what to expect, but I can tell you this: it sure as hell wasn’t what ended up happening to me that night. Allow me to elaborate, if you will...

“Ya know, he was a loser, anyway,” Willow slurred, leaning drunkenly against my shoulder after gulping down the rest of her drink. “You were too good for him. And you. Deserve. Better.” She punctuated each of those last three words with an index finger poked against my cheek, falling into giggles at her own ridiculous antics.

“I know, I know.” I studied what was left of my own drink, tracing my fingers absently around the rim. She’s right, I thought. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Chad. Stupid, lying, cheating bastard that he was. He denied everything when I confronted him, thrusting his phone in his face to show him I had proof of his infidelity in text form.

“Who is Lauren, Chad? And why the hell is she calling you ‘babe’?”

“I can explain! Please, I-”

I threw his phone at him, shaking my head. “Don’t bother. Kiki already saw you together two days ago. This just confirms it.” My vision blurred with hot, angry tears, but I refused to let him see me cry. “Merry Christmas to me, yeah?”

It was the beginning of our end. Christmas Eve, and there I was, kicking my boyfriend out of our shared apartment while he begged me to let him stay.

“It’s Christmas, for God's sake! What kind of sadist are you, anyway? Where am I supposed to go?”

I was furious. I didn’t give a damn where he went, as long as it was away from me. My cheeks were blazing, the tears spilling freely now as I threw his belongings into a black trash bag. “Why don’t you go stay with Lauren? I’m sure she’ll be happy to take you in.” I paused, then added, more to myself than to Chad, “I’m sure she already has more than a few times, anyway.”

“Yeah? Well fuck him,” Willow spat, slouching over her empty glass.

Kiki nodded in agreement, looking like she was about to pass out, eyes blinking slowly, a tired, blissful smile plastered on her face. “Yeah….fuck ‘em.”

“Excuse me, ladies. Who are we fucking?” An attractive male voice cut through the din of music and conversation around us. He sounded young. He sounded hot. The three of us shared a look, then fell into giddy giggles. I turned around to answer and was met with a pair of eyes so intense, their golden hue cut so purely through the relative darkness of the venue. I couldn’t be sure, but his hair looked to be dyed a pale lavender color- whether on purpose or a remnant of a botched dye job, I didn’t know. And quite frankly, I didn’t care at that moment.

He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, his chuckle coming out in visible puffs of smoke as he studied the three of us, probably looking positively ridiculous after a few hours of drinking and dancing.

“Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man.” His eyes lingered on me, and for a moment I thought I recognized him. He reminded me of someone I had known in high school. I think it was those eyes…

Willow kicked me in the shin and looked up at him, her tone teasing, mischievous. “We were just talking about an ex boyfriend. Total douchebag. Old news.” She lifted her glass, the remaining slivers of ice and watered-down rum nearly sloshing out over the side. “To New Year’s Eve. To new beginnings!” She went to take a swig and realized there was nothing left worth drinking. “Hey, you should buy us another round, misterrrr…?”

“Shaw. The name’s Shaw.” He smirked, taking a step closer to us, his eyes never leaving my face. I felt myself growing even hotter, his intense stare causing me to feel a tad uncomfortable, but...incredibly turned on at the same time. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

Willow opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by Kiki, springing upright in her seat and slapping the bar with her hands. “Guysss that hot weekend band is here!”

“Weekend band?” I asked, briefly looking from Shaw to her and back. His smirk widened into an amused grin.

“They’ve played the bar near my place a few times. On the weekends. The singer is suuuuper hot.”

Can’t be any hotter than what’s right in front of us.

“Does the band have a name, Kiki?” I asked.

She looked at me, incredulous, her eyes swinging to where the band was almost set up, ready to play. “Um, does it really matter when that is center stage?’

I looked toward the commotion on the stage where the emcee was handing the mic off. He was a vision. Perfection. Distressed jeans, a black shirt that hung open halfway down his chest, sleeveless to showcase the tattoos that ran down one arm. The light reflecting off his white hair was blinding. A guitar hung across his back, the body shaped like a gun. The singer turned, eyes sweeping the crowd.

Course I’d been wrong before…

I turned back to Shaw, giving him a head to toe sweep of my gaze, trying to look as seductive as possible. I reached out and traced my finger down his abdomen, my breath catching at how firm and warm his muscles felt under my touch. “So, about the next round. What is it you want?”

He leaned over the back of my chair, so close I could feel his breath on my neck. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I felt his teeth on the cusp of my ear; teasing, exhilarating. My inhibitions lowered dramatically by the alcohol, I turned my chair around to look him square in the eye; my hand locked around his wrist as his fingers grazed the inside of my thigh.

“You didn’t ask for permission to touch me.” He dipped his head, locks of his hair falling into his eyes as he chuckled. Kiki and Willow watched us without saying a word, holding back their squeals of delight.

“You touched me first. Besides, you were practically begging me to touch you.” I scoffed, my pulse pounding in my ears, heat pooling in my gut. He called my bluff, but I wanted to keep the banter alive. This was flirty.

Hot.

Fun.

Dangerous.

“You’re sexy. Your boyfriend is an idiot,” he said, leaning in close.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, Shaw. And you know what else is sexy?” I licked my lips and watched his mouth fall open. “Consent.”

He hummed, his lips so close to mine that I could feel the vibration, the pungent smell of tobacco and hard liquor on his breath. “Can I kiss you, then?” His question was met with my mouth crashing against his, hands rising to fist into the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close to me as I possibly could. It was reckless. It was wild. But I threw all caution to the wind, hearing my best friends screech beside me as I made out with this perfect stranger like it was my job.

He was first to break the kiss, pulling away, to suck in a breath. Just as he did, the lead guitarist of the band struck his first chord, letting it ring out over the crowd. People cheered and whistled, and stage lights cast a hazy glow all around. The singer stepped forward and grabbed the mic stand, leaning forward slightly to speak as he centered himself under the spotlight.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” The crowd cheered again, and a woman somewhere behind us screamed, “WE LOVE YOU, HELIOS!” He must have heard her, because he smirked playfully and pointed in her direction. “Love you, too.” The drummer kicked them into gear; soon the whole place was pulsing with driving bass, drums, electric guitar, and the edgy, gritty, soulful rasp of Helios's voice. Kiki had dragged Willow into the crowd, and I spotted them easily, their bodies writhing to the music. I felt Shaw’s hand on my shoulder, hot and insistent with some unspoken desire, and I looked up at him, brow arched.

“Need something?” I asked.

“Yeah…” he began, leaning in to pin my bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it with a pop. “You. On me. Let’s dance.” Before I could protest, he was pulling me into the crowd, grinding his hips on mine to the beat. He had rhythm- I gave him that. He also oozed confidence and sex appeal, snaking an arm around my waist, letting his fingers trace circles on my backside as he bent to taste my neck, my jaw, and finally kiss me full on my lips again, hungry and wanting. I felt like he was searching for some deep, lost part of me that had been buried long ago. He kissed me like he had nothing to lose, and I kissed him back with the same fervor, my intense need growing with each flick of his tongue across mine. Maybe it was my messy breakup a week ago. Maybe it was some primal need to be devoured that he had awakened in me, but there with him, his body pressed urgently against mine amidst the other bodies around us, coherent thoughts clouded by lust and alcohol, I made up my mind that I was going to fuck him. It was beyond want at this point. It was an unequivocal need. I needed to forget...what’s his face? My ex-boyfriend’s name was just a fleeting thought when I felt the unmistakable push of Shaw’s bulge against my core, ready and eager to be driven inside me in some dark, secluded corner.

Or, right there on the dance floor. I was so turned on at that point, I didn’t care who saw it.

I rode his thigh, grinding myself against his jeans, the friction almost enough to make me come right then and there. I dug my nails into his triceps, pulling him against me. His forehead rested against mine for a moment before he turned to speak, lips fluttering against my ear, “You got a room here tonight?” I nodded, tucking my bottom lip under my teeth while I tried to read the expression on his face. “Well?”

“Well, what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You gonna invite me up, or what?” The nerve of this guy! I mean, I was every bit the drunk, loose woman that night. It was stupid, really. I was playing with fire and just asking to get burned, but I didn't care. I was hurt, horny, and looking for a fling, and the heavens had heard my cry and sent me Shaw.

I was a tigress, hunting her prey.

And I had him cornered, ready to pounce.

But I wasn't done teasing him just yet.

"That remains to be seen," I whispered against his ear, licking the cusp for good measure and secretly thrilling in the buck of his hips. I looked up and saw how close to the stage we had migrated, then locked eyes with Helios as he sang the chorus of the last song of the night. I hadn't realized how long Shaw and I had been dancing, but it must've been for the better part of an hour, off and on. Even in the poor lighting and haze of smoke, I could see his eyes: ocean blue, haughty, cold. He didn't smile when our eyes met, but he stared. Long and hard, like the cock I imagined he was packing in those ripped jeans. Jesus, get a grip, I told myself. Shaw seemed to sense my hesitation, because he suddenly grabbed me behind the knees and lifted me, hooking my legs around his waist. I squealed and locked my arms around his neck as he spun me away from Helios, who watched as Shaw nuzzled my breasts with his nose, playfully nipping at the exposed skin at the deep v-neck of my shirt.

"Focus, baby. I'm all yours." The way Helios watched us stirred my longing for him even more, and I was struck with an idea so filthy, so completely sinful that I was surprised I wasn't knocked dead right then and there and set into the pits of Hell.

I wanted both of them. Together. The three of us, engaged in carnal, lascivious, sleazy, lecherous, immoral activities that I had only ever read or fantasized about.

"I want him, too."

Shaw stared at me, incredulous. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. I. Want. Him. Too." To further entice him, I flattened my tongue against his Adam's apple and licked the rough path to his chin, nipping at his bottom lip with a snarl and a low growl.

"Easy there, tiger. Let me see what I can do." He surprised me by taking strides toward Helios, who was talking with a couple of fans. Setting me down, he patted me on top of my head, told me to 'stay there like a good girl', and promptly hoisted himself onto the stage where he began unplugging equipment and winding up cords. He's one of their tech guys, I realized then. It hadn't dawned on me until then that he was alone when he approached Kiki, Willow, and I. No friends, no girlfriend or even a date with him. Just Shaw and his brazen self, swaggering up to us like he knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

As he was expertly looping one of the amplifier cords over his shoulder, he sidled up behind Helios and said something, looking at me the entire time. Helios turned and looked at me, something akin to a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, though his eyes remained cold. They shared a laugh then, with Helios watching my face for a reaction. I refused to give him much, but my heart was racing along at such a frantic pace I could barely breathe. And when he stepped off the stage and met me face to face, my soul left my body and I was promptly sent into overdrive. My pussy was throbbing so hard that it hurt.

"Shaw tells me you're looking for a little fun." He reached out, brushing damp hair away from my face before trailing rough fingertips down my jaw. The girls he’d been talking to stared daggers as he slowly circled, humming appraisal as he went. He stopped behind me, hands around my waist sliding down to squeeze my ass through my jeans before stepping up and asking quietly, “you sure you can handle both of us?”

I swallowed, the heat rolling off his body like standing under the summer sun. “Yeah, pretty sure I can take it.” Need. Want. Will. He circled back to facing me, a sinful grin on his face. He leaned down and I popped up on my toes, meeting his lips halfway. He was softer than Shaw, lips moving slowly against mine with agonizing tenderness. I was aching for more, and I was determined to get it. I bit his lip before sucking his tongue in my mouth, tilting my head in a silent request. He obliged, teeth and tongue leaving me a whimpering mess before you pulled away.

“Well then, if that’s how you want to play it.” Soft lighting reflected in his gaze like a burst of gold. And when his eyes fell to my heaving breasts-and lower, to where my core pulsed-I knew that I was in trouble.

Nope. There was no walking away from this one now.

〖✰〗

Clothes littered the floor from the door to the king size bed. Helios was the first to crawl onto the mattress, apparently not feeling any shame in sprawling himself out naked. He reached out and grabbed my hips, pulling me flush against his chest. His erection felt like a brand against my back. He reached around, kneading my breasts before running his hands down, ghosting over my thighs and grabbing under my knees, opening my legs to Shaw who watched intensely.

“I suppooose,” Helios’s voice was a sing-song tease in my ear as his fingers trailed up my inner thighs. “Since I’m the guest, I could let you go first.” He was looking at Shaw as he licked a line down my neck, calloused fingertips teasing my wet slit.

Shaw stood at the foot of the bed, stroking himself languidly, amber eyes watching every flick of those fingers across my skin. My head was spinning from the alcohol I had consumed, and I allowed myself to fall backward onto Helios’s broad, tattooed shoulder, opening my mouth as I moaned, taking in the vision before me. It was as much a show for him as it was for Helios, whose fingers worked themselves inside further at the sound of my cry.

“But I wouldn’t mind helping, if that’s okay.” Helios’s teeth skimmed my shoulder and he waited for an affirmative nod from Shaw.

“As long as we’re all in agreement, I’m down for whatever.” He took a step toward us and climbed onto the bed, that perpetual sneer now inches away from my own, hungry mouth. I pitched forward, eager for another taste of his lips, but he drew back with a click of his tongue.

What a goddamn tease.

“Easy now. We’ve got all night.”

Helios’s lips tickled my jaw and with a smirk I turned my head, kissing him instead. He wasted no time, tongue curling in my mouth the way his fingers curled to find my g-spot. I moaned and bucked my hips, brushing against Shaw’s jutting cock.

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Play bitch games…” I whispered breathlessly. Helios chuckled.

“Win bitch prizes?” His wintry eyes met Shaw’s as he finished the sentiment.

“Now, now, there’s only enough room in here for one smart ass and that would be me.” Shaw reached out and pinched my stiff nipples, making me squirm. His touch softened, tickling and fondling my breasts before moving down to trace circular patterns on my belly. Helios seized my lips again, a slow expedition, barely affording me the chance to breathe.

Between the two of them I felt like a paper boat tossed in the ocean, pitching on the waves before starting to sink beneath the surface. I wondered idly if the noises Helios made was due to how my slick walls are starting to clamp down on his fingers. Shaw dipped his head, tongue lapping torturously at my nipples. “Gentlemen!” I finally gasped, breathless. “We may have all night, but if someone doesn’t fuck me now I’m going to lose it!”

Helios could barely contain his amusement. “You heard the lady.” He pushed his fingers deep, grinding his palm against my clit. Shaw crawled away, fumbled through the haphazard string of clothes for his jeans, produced a condom from his back pocket, and rolled it expertly down his intimidating length. In my drunken arousal, I hadn’t really looked closely at his cock until now; his girth was impressive, and sucked in a breath as Helios continued his ministrations, preparing me for the experience at hand.

“You ready for this, baby?” Shaw knelt in front of me, grabbing roughly at my hips and slotting his eager mouth against mine. Much to my chagrin, Helios withdrew his fingers, teeth and tongue tracing a path down the sensitive flesh of my back. His hands then traveled up my spine, vertebra by vertebra, as if he were memorizing the bumps and dips on the path to my neck. Then, gathering my hair at the nape of my neck, his other hand sliding around to rest at my throat, he squeezed- just enough to thrill and terrify me at the same time. He lifted my chin and sucked hard on my shoulder, meeting Shaw’s eyes with a subtle nod, as if to urge him on. Shaw lined himself up against my throbbing, aching sex. In a suddenly tender moment, he pushed my hair away from my face, cupping my cheek in his palm. "Be gentle with me. It's my first time," he cooed, the corner of his mouth lifting into that signature smirk.

“I refuse to believe any of this is a first for you~” my reply trailed off to a loud moan as he pushed his cock inside me, Helios’s fingers tightening ever so slightly around my neck. They’ve definitely done this before. I briefly considered asking them if they were keeping track of all the roadies they had fucked together, but Shaw’s thickness stretching me in all the right ways left me without a second to even think straight. God, he felt good.

Helios kept a tight grip on my hips as Shaw found his rhythm, coaxing me on in his breathy rasp. “That’s it, baby. You like it when I hold you up for him to fuck you?” I could only moan an affirmation, the room beginning to grow hazy as I felt my release coming quicker than I wanted. His arms slid upward, hands locking onto my breasts to pull me tighter against his chest. I leaned against his shoulder again and hooked an arm around the back of his neck, where I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, drawing a low growl from him. “Easy, killer. You gotta be careful doing things like that, or I might not let Shaw finish." He threw a look at Shaw, who-of course-laughed, the sound leaving his throat in staggered pants. A delicious, ruddy glow spread over his cheeks, a sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin. I pressed my palm to his cheek and hooked my other arm around his neck, pushing him flush against my own sweat-slick chest. His tongue caught one of my overstimulated nipples and teased pebbled flesh; then he sucked it into his mouth, effectively sending me over the edge. My pussy clamped down around him and he slowed his pace, obviously enjoying the sensation. I was vaguely aware of his breath on my ear, of a bead of sweat rolling down between my breasts and mingling with that of Shaw's skin.

"Yeah, baby girl. Ride it out. God, you feel good, squeezing my cock. Unh…" Our ragged breathing mingled with the throaty grunts of Helios behind me.

"Fuck. You don't mess around, do you?" Helios marveled, sweeping my damp hair away to lick the column of my neck once more, sending shockwaves throughout my already spent body. I searched for the words to retort, but I had none. I hadn’t meant to come so fast. I wanted to ride the wave, to feel Shaw working inside me for longer than those first few minutes, but I had been so painfully aroused before we started that I just couldn’t take anymore. His release came soon after mine began, his cock pulsing against my walls while his hips bucked uncontrollably against mine. I went limp against Helios’s firm chest and whimpered, quaking with pleasure, having lost any and all control over the movements of my body.

Helios’s patience was strung thin. Watching, feeling me writhe against him as I came on Shaw’s cock was torture in its purest form. Shaw rolled to the side, taking me with him, and Helios slid to the floor. He picked his jeans up at the foot of the bed and pulled a string of three condoms out of the back pocket, tearing one off and tossing the others.

“Show off.” Shaw mumbled, grinning as he cradled my face in his hands and kissed me.

“Jealous.” Helios replied, tongue flashing between his lips in a childish display. “Now if the opener is finished he should make way for the main act.”

“Is it too late for me to apologize for him?” Shaw said with a laugh. I felt empty as he pulled away. Helios sauntered back, grabbing my ankles and chuckling when I squealed as he dragged me to the edge of the bed. He leaned over and kissed me, lapping a hungry line down my throat and between my breasts. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath the lower he went until his tongue passed over my clit and plunged into my overly sensitive pussy, making me exhale in a head-spinning groan. He braced my feet against his shoulders before grabbing my thighs, holding me in place as he pressed his mouth against me, pushing his tongue as deep as it could go. I reached down, twisting my fingers in soft white hair. My throat felt dry no matter how many times I swallowed, unaware of how loudly I was moaning. Letting my hands do the work of guiding him, Helios ripped the foil and rolled the condom down his throbbing shaft before reaching up and sliding two fingers inside me. My pussy clenched, his tongue swirling around my clit as he rubbed my g-spot. I didn’t think it was possible for me to come again so quickly, but I could feel my muscles tensing as the wave built low in my belly. Charles...Carl...what’s-his-name had never pulled this off.

“I...I’m gonna...gonna come-!” I wailed, bright spots flashing in my eyes, a small gush of fluid wetting the bed beneath me. I didn’t even notice Helios pop to his feet, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth as he lined himself up and filled me with one smooth thrust. My thighs snapped against his hips and my mouth fell open noiselessly.

“Ssshhit!” He hissed, grabbing my ankles and spreading my legs. I was still coming, my pussy fluttering around his cock. “You feel so good.” He fucked me deep and hard, using his grip on my legs to add leverage to every thrust. My vision swam, I couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his cock driving into me over and over.

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?” Shaw’s voice was soft and I jerked as his hands slid under my shoulders, hoisting me up so he could hold me against his chest. His hands skated over my body, one hand pressing against my mound, the fingers of the other coming up to trace my lips. I numbly parted them, sucking on his fingers as they slipped over my tongue. Shaw’s hand danced up my leg, replacing Helios’s grip on my ankle so that Helios could reach down to grab my hip. Shaw’s lips pressed against my ear, tongue tracing the contours.

“And what if..ah...I did?” Each word I managed was a conscious effort; my throat was so dry and raw, and I licked my lips, desperate for moisture. Shaw sensed my need and rewarded me with another kiss, pushing his own tongue through my parched lips.

“Look. Watch him come. ‘Cause once he’s finished, I’ll need your help again.” He shifted himself so that I was propped against his chest again, my head trained downward to where Helios was pumping furiously in and out of me, Shaw’s fingers expertly strumming my clit, his cock pressed hard and hot against my back. I whimpered at his command, not sure just how much more pleasure my body could endure.

I was seeing stars at that point, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. Every muscle in my body was limp and feeble, and I was thankful for Shaw’s support, as I don’t think I would have been able to hold myself up to meet Helios’s eager thrusts. And when I felt him twitching within, saw his cerulean eyes flash with a silent outcry of ultimate gratification, I came for a third time, my hips lifting high off the mattress and taking him in fully, completely. I think we all cried out together, sweat-slick bodies sliding together effortlessly, as if the three of us were one being. I had never felt more sexy, more desirable, more alive as I did in that moment. It was overwhelming in many ways, and when Helios pulled himself out, leaving me feeling barren and empty, I whined softly, curling myself against Shaw, the tears of euphoria I’d kept in check before now streaming freely.

Helios saw what was happening and sat beside Shaw and I, his fingertips tracing over my shoulders in a sensual, yet comforting way. They exchanged a look of concern, and Shaw covered my ear with his palm, whispering to Helios, “I think we broke her, man. Why’s she crying?”

“She’s spent, Shaw. Look at her. She is tapped the fuck out.” He hooked his fingers around a few damp locks of hair that were plastered against my cheek and pushed them away, then placed an achingly tender kiss on the newly exposed skin. I opened my eyes and found his gaze, my vision blurred but still able to discern his smile, edged with a hint of concern thanks to a furrowed brow. I tapped his chin with my fingertip playfully, my lips twitching into a grin.

“You two lied to me,” I said, fingernails raking the stubble on his cheek.

They exchanged a look of confusion, with Shaw bending close, turning his ear toward my mouth to better hear me. “What did you say?”

“You said it was your first time. But you’ve done this before. There’s no way in hell you haven’t practiced that on another...helpless...victim…” I felt myself succumbing to exhaustion quickly, now slumping into the supportive arms of Helios, my hands clasped together under my chin, head resting against his chest.

I felt the vibration of Helios’s chuckle against my ear. The bed dipped slightly as Shaw stood and stretched his arms above his head with a loud groan, then staggered off to the bathroom. I soon heard the sound of rushing water, presumably from the shower. That soothing sound, coupled with the comforting heat of Helios’s embrace was enough to send me into a deep, restful sleep. When my breathing steadied, Helios slowly, silently slid away and covered me with the rumpled sheet before stepping out onto the balcony, naked, taking in the view of the city below.

After his shower, Shaw joined him, a towel tied around his waist, damp hair tousled and wild. He lit a cigarette and leaned on the railing, blowing smoke rings into the black, starless night.

“Guess there’s a first time for everything, yeah?”

#mr love queens choice #mlqc #mlqc smut #mlqc helios #mlqc shaw #oldie but goodie #although #@_@ reformatting this was a BEAST #UGH my most least favorite of parts

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heauxlistictherapy · 4 months ago

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ANGELA DAVIDA MILLER IS A DANGEROUS SCAMMER IN GEORGIA AND NO ONE IS STOPPING HER

A scammer in Atlanta has stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars

In an increasingly interconnected world, the importance of genuine relationships and trust cannot be overstated. Unfortunately, some individuals exploit these bonds for personal gain. In the last year or two, reports have emerged about a woman who pretends to be a lesbian to build friendships and scam unsuspecting lesbian women. This alarming trend not only highlights the vulnerabilities within the LGBTQ+ community but also underscores the need for awareness and caution.

This blog post is regarding an individual named Angela Davida Miller, who has been involved in fraudulent activities for at least 2 decades. Yes, TWO WHOLE DAMN DECADES!

It is important to note that some of “Angela’s” arrest records list her as a black male. I am not sure why. I also have a lot more info on her that I will share with the authorities. After she is caught I will share everything publicly. I want to keep some info private because she is going to read this. I am sending her the link. Your days are numbered Miss Angela. SOON AND VERY SOON DEAR.

Angela Miller, previously arrested for identity theft in Oconee, GA in 2013, has been reported to have strategically embedded herself in the lesbian community to conceal her troubled history. It is alleged that she exploited her connections within this community to not only steal money from friends, but also to build friendships with women who work in Human Resources so that she could successfully target job seekers, posing as an employer and deceiving individuals into sharing sensitive personal information. This behavior is reported to have escalated during the Covid-19 pandemic. Angela Miller used employment sites like Indeed & Ziprecruiter to schedule zoom and WhatsApp calls with job seekers. After putting them through the process of a fake interview, she would then claim that the applicant was hired, and ask them to fill out W2 forms with personal information like social security numbers, address etc. This was a way to access their personal information and steal their identity. Angela Miller also used a website that she built to scam content creators. She is also accused of engaging in online sex trafficking. I will elaborate more on this with law enforcement but I prefer to not mention much about the sex trafficking publicly for the safety of any potential victims. I want to quickly mention that it is essential to exercise caution when interacting with individuals claiming to be employers, especially during these challenging times.

After her arrest in 2013 for identity theft, clearly “Angela” did not learn her lesson. She is still collecting information and flying under the radar. Here’s the link to info on the 2013 arrest.

Multi-state Identity Theft Case Busted

Views: 1,470 Featured image: Angela Davida Miller Athens, Ga- The Oconee County Sheriff's Office busts a multi-state…

gradynewsource.uga.edu

After I realized that Angela is a scammer I reported her to the FBI, FTC, NYPD & NJ police (I was living in NYC & also had access to my friends rental property in NJ. So I utilized both police departments). I also made a call to her mother Carolyn Madison of Albany, GA. Her mother did not flinch. She was not surprised. She actually told me that Angela had recently tried to get $1000 from her also. She offered to pay me back in installments to keep her scamming offspring out of jail. I repeatedly refused because her mom did not steal my money, ANGELA DID. But her mom literally begged. Angela found out about the agreement and told her mother not to pay me because I AM THE SCAMMER AND I NEVER GAVE HER ANY MONEY. I then reported the incident to Albany police because a mutual friend told me that Angela was actually living in Albany, GA with her mom. So I tried to hunt her down online but eventually all roads led back to Atlanta. However, during my interaction with Albany police I was treated horribly. Basically I was the yankee who was trying to make their town look bad. I wish that I could remember the officers name but I don’t have it in my notes. If I ever recall I will surely update this article because he should be FIRED. As far as the reports made in NY & NJ, nothing was done about the theft because Angela is a resident of Atlanta. I was told to take her to small claims court and/or report her to Atl PD. I tried to report her to ATLPD by phone but officer V. Pitts of ATL also refused to properly investigate. So I decided to fly to Atlanta. I arrived in Atlanta on April 1st 2024. It took a few weeks but eventually she walked right into my sights.

On April 26th 2024, I encountered Angela at a bar in Atlanta named “My Sister’s Room”. It seemed like she was on good terms with some of the staff there. When I approached her about her fraudulent activities INCLUDING money that she stole from me, she immediately denied everything. As the noise level inside the bar increased, we were asked to continue our heated conversation outside. This is when I started recording our conversation. When I questioned her about the stolen money, she first agreed to pay me back. She asked if I preferred cashapp or zelle. But suddenly attempted to walk away. I followed her to a building called 77 12th which is around the corner from the bar. I was right behind her and saw that she attempted to scan a card to gain access to the building. As I approached, she became frantic and ran upstairs instead, then used the card again to access the parking lot. When I tried to follow her, she forcibly prevented me by repeatedly slamming a door on my arm. Despite her escape, I managed to capture the entire incident on video. The following day, I visited the building and inquired about her, sharing her picture with the doorman and the leasing office staff. THE MANAGER WAS EXTREMELY RUDE FOR WHATEVER REASON! However, I was able to learn from other employees that she does not reside there, but works for a company called National Corporate Housing as a cleaner for the apartments in the building. NOW WAIT! This woman who has at least 3 felonies is accessing people’s apartments? This scammer who has stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars is cleaning apartments for a living? I guess my ancestors and spirit guides decided to knock her right into poverty. Be careful when trying to harm those of us who are spiritually protected, Miss Angela. There is more to come. Your downfall is just beginning. Anywho, after I learned of her humble employment I immediately called National Corporate Housing and spoke to the Atlanta manager whose name is Ryan. I explained the situation to him and informed him that she has a troubling criminal history. He insisted that the company did not employ anyone by that name. Of course, I suggested that maybe she is using a fake name? I asked him to please google her mugshot and see if the distinctive oddly shaped face was familiar. He claimed that he did not recognize her, but promised to investigate and follow up soon. That was April 27th, 2024.

I reported the entire incident to the Smyrna, Georgia police and Atlanta police. However, despite the overwhelming evidence, Detective Brian Pyle of Smyrna PD has chosen not to pursue any investigation or take action against Angela Miller, despite her clear fraudulent activities. He informed me that this is a civil matter and I should take her to small claims court. This is not civil. This was theft by deception. I already filed in small claims court and because Angela is a grifter, the Marshalls could not find her to have her served. She KNEW this when she stole the money from me and others. She knew that she was planning to move around soon and collected from many women before disappearing.

July rolls around and still no word from Ryan but I got a tip that Angela is collecting social security numbers on Indeed. So on July 16th, 2024 I made a few calls to see what is going on with National Corporate Housing. Ryan told me that the company investigated and they never employed Angela. He was very nervous and rude, and when I presented him with the evidence that she did work for the company, he accused me of being an angry black woman and insisted that the woman in the news article was never employed or affiliated with NCH. I later spoke to his boss who was a lot more cooperative. I’m not sure what Ryan is trying to hide but his behavior was really suspicious. I will be following up with his boss to find out how Angela was hired. What name did she use? Whose identity did she steal to get this job that she clearly needs because she can’t successfully scam during inflation? Was it yours?

The disturbing case of a woman pretending to be a lesbian to scam unsuspecting lesbian women is a stark reminder of the dangers that lurk online. It is time for law enforcement to take decisive action to stop these malicious activities. We should all call on law enforcement agencies to prioritize the investigation and prosecution of this devious scammer. The time for action is now. Angela Miller is targeting job seekers, elderly people & the LGBTQ community in Atlanta & she must be stopped, and it is up to both law enforcement and the community to ensure this happens. We urge the dedicated detectives of Atlanta to prioritize this case, allocate the necessary resources, and work tirelessly to bring this criminal to justice. Together, we can make a difference and ensure that justice is served.

If you have any information about scamming thieving Angela Davida Miller or have been affected by their actions, please reach out to me personally! Your voice and your story can help make a difference. Let us unite to create a safer and more trustworthy America for everyone.

#scammers #scammer #online scams #identity theft #atlanta #atl #fbi #atlpd #ftc

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alumbianchronicler · 1 year ago

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EctoberHaunt - Oct. 11 Magic - Calm

[Ao3]

Summary:

Amity Park is still. Calm. A layer of icy Fear envelops it, Burying all within. It's finally silent, and the Phantom of a boy can finally rest.

Until the Fear-Buried town attracts the attention of Gertrude and Gerry, Head Archivist and her sole assistant.

Warnings: Suicidal ideation (In a sense of "I'm already dead, let me actually die"). Major Character Death.

Crossover: DP x Magnus Archives

Note: It's past midnight and I'm not bothering to review/edit this tonight, so you're getting it as it is until I go back and revise it. I apologize for any typos/inconsistencies.

The world hadn't heard from Amity Park for months.

There were plenty of residents who had family outside the small city, but none of those outside the city had heard from their relatives since mid-February, just over three months ago.

Some wrote the silence off, figuring things were either busy or uneventful, and that their loved ones would contact them in due time.

Others were becoming worried.

Attempts to call their loved ones failed to go through, phones either ringing without being answered, or simply going straight to voicemail.

The city had been a nexus of ghostly activity for as long as the Hunters questioned could remember, though reported activity had skyrocketed in recent years. With the enactment of the Anti-Ecto Acts within the state, normal Hunters had been discouraged from interfering or risk becoming Hunted by the government, themselves.

Of course, when even the local Ghost Investigation Ward sent by the state disappeared, certain people took notice.

Not that anyone was keen on rushing into the town.

It was one of those places known for swallowing Hunters whole even before the AEA. A place where the populous knew exactly what was happening but had lived with it for so long that it had become mundane, even if deadly to those who entered from outside the community.

Gertrude and Gerry sat on the hood of a rental car just outside the city, staring in. The entire town was shrouded in a miasma of Fear, but even Gerry couldn’t penetrate it clearly enough to determine just which Entity was responsible here. It was heavy and still, as if waiting for something to come along and stir it into action. Honestly, it could be one of half a dozen of the fourteen.

“Think we have enough lighter fluid?” he asked, half joking.

The Archivist scowled. They most certainly did not have enough for the entire town, but if it really was the site for a Ritual that it felt to be, then they needed to come up with something.

She stood and returned to the car, Gerry tossing aside his cigarette, stomping it out, and following her.

They were silent as they drove into the city. It was cold, their breath forming mist even inside the car, despite the heat turned up as far as it would go.

Under Gerry’s gaze, the town seemed frozen, everything coated in a thin layer of green-tinged ice. His first guess was Lonely, but that didn’t seem quite right. This wasn’t a Lonely chill. It was more… enveloping.

Neither was it Desolation. It preserved too much, kept it close and still and calm and unmoving…

“Buried,” he finally said as the Archivist drove through the empty streets. No one was outside. Nothing was moving. Everything was covered in the same layer of icy Fear, invisible to everyone but those with the Eye to see.

Gertrude made a sound of agreement, stopping at an intersection for several long moments. She eyed each direction as if it had personally offended her. Gerry remained silent, watching her. She was nearly Hunt-like herself, when she got on a trail, and he knew she was seeking out the source of this Fear. The Predator waiting at the bottom of the pit, burying everything around it alive.

Finally, she turned the car to the right and drove on.

They ended up in front of a house that looked like someone had tried to build a space station on the top. An odd choice for the Buried, but sometimes superficial appearances were deceiving.

The cold was deeper here, settling into their bones and making Gerry’s head ache with the sharpness of an icepick. It was oppressive, trying to hold them down beneath the desire to sleep and hide and don’t let them see, don’t let them know, don’t let them uncover your secret.

He could feel the Eye stir with the knowledge, seeking it out, pushing him to chip off the ice and bear the heart of the being at the core of this lair. He paused, forcibly closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. He could feel the Archivist’s gaze on him, but she didn’t say anything until he opened his eyes, his headache worsening.

“Gerard?”

“I’m fine. It’s here?”

“It is.”

“Let’s go, then.”

He turned to grab a duffelbag from the back seat, leaving the car and following the old woman inside.

They didn’t even have to break into the house, though it did take a few kicks to loosen the door from the very real ice that had sealed it shut.

The interior was even more frigid; an icy tomb created from layer upon layer of carefully placed Fear, cocooning its inhabitant deep inside.

If they had the supplies, perhaps they would have simply set the building itself on fire from the outside, but as it was, they would both bet money that the Avatar was in the basement, safely Buried away from whatever Desolation would do on the surface.

Which left their only choice being to seek it within its own den, and root it out.

There was someone on the couch in the living room.

At first, Gerry was prepared to fight, but Gertrude barely reacted, simply sweeping her sharp gaze over the red-haired young woman. “She’s frozen,” the Archivist said, and continued inside.

The old woman led them unerringly to what was, indeed, the door to the basement.

Below, an eerie green light illuminated the stairwell, becoming brighter as they descended, the weight of the Buried settling on their shoulders like heavy snowfall.

Gerry’s boots crunched the ice beneath him as he stepped off the final step onto the cement basement floor.

The basement itself appeared to be a laboratory of some kind. Two people stood in the center of the room, frozen beneath thick layers of the strange green ice, impossibly still despite the Eye revealing to him they still lived. They were dressed in brightly-colored jumpsuits, and had several Marks between them. The Stranger, the Desolation, the Spiral.

Neither of them were the conduit of the Buried in this place.

The Archivist continued past them.

On the far side of the basement, a gaping hole yawned wide in the wall, leading back and down, down, down from the laboratory. In front of it laid… a teenager, curled on his side on the floor.

His hair was white, and though he didn’t appear to be breathing, a slight mist condensed before him every few seconds. He was nearly peaceful in his stillness, despite the miasma of Fear that blanketed him. This was their Avatar.

The Archivist set down her bag and pulled out a tape recorder, her eyes glowing in the dim icy-green light of the basement.

Gerry moved to stand beside her as she leaned down and shook the child awake.

He moved slowly, looking up at them with eyes clouded with ice and despair. “Who are you?”

The Archivist Spoke. “I am Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. Please tell me what has happened here.” Despite the politeness of her words, there was the sharpness of Compelling beneath them, the Watcher bleeding through its vessel.

The boy blinked, flinching even as he seemed to become more animated. Around them, the ice cracked audibly.

“I… just wanted the pressure to stop. Ever since my parents made the tunnel, ever since I entered it, I had been changed. There was something down there. I can’t say what, but it was as if I had been… swallowed, consumed, changed. It stayed with me when I left, settling on my shoulders with a weight that left me unable to breathe.”

“I think I died.”

He frowned. “Everyone expected things of me, but I couldn’t respond properly. It all seemed to weigh so heavily. I… couldn’t pull myself up out of their expectations. It was better down here. Heavier, but it was a calm weight, like… a crypt or a grave.”

“I came to think of myself as… some sort of Phantom. Some fascimile of a living being, trying to hold up to what living beings did, like Atlas holding up the sky, until inevitably it pressed down and crushed me, and I…”

He looked past the Archivist to the frozen pair in the center of the room. “My parents loved me, I know, but they never knew I went into the tunnel. They didn’t realize I had died. They didn’t know how much the pressure weighed on me.”

“I just… I want everything to be calm. I want to enter my grave and not return, to have the ice freeze me and envelope me and never let me go and…” he started crying, the tears freezing halfway down his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt people.”

Gerry couldn’t see the old woman’s gaze from where he stood, but he knew it hadn’t softened. The Watcher drank in the boy’s story, relishing the flavor of despair and self-loathing, even as it didn’t understand why having so much pushed upon oneself could be so crushing.

“Gerard,” Gertrude said after several long moments of heavy silence. “Go back to the car, and get the bag of explosives from the trunk.”

He raised a brow at the old woman but complied.

When he returned, the kid had stood, though he held himself as if he could barely hold himself up against gravity.

Gertrude turned to noted Gerry’s return and nodded. “Set them up at the opening of the tunnel,” she said, then turned back to the young Avatar in front of them.

“You desire to go to the Buried and not return?” she asked him.

The boy nodded.

“Then I want you to go into the tunnel and continue walking. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Let the Buried have you.”

It wasn’t quite the same counter-strategy they usually used. There was no neutralizing one Entity with another Opposing it here. There was simply… laying a restless spirit to rest.

Gerry met the teen’s eyes as he walked past, and for a moment they regarded each-other, before Phantom continued into the tunnel, eventually disappearing into the depths beyond.

They lit the explosives, retreating for the explosion then returning to make sure the tunnel was sealed. The eerie green light had vanished from the ice, and what was left of the ice itself was quickly melting, leaving only the bodies of the boy’s family behind.

For good measure, they burned the house down, and the occupants within it.

There were a few other cars on the road as they left the town, neither of them speaking to each other until they had passed the sign heading away.

“How’s your head feeling?” Gertrude asked, as if she didn’t know.

“It’s fine,” Gerry replied, lying, the weight of the truth heavy on his shoulders.

#ectoberhaunt23 #Oct 11 #EH magic #Calm #Danny Phantom #The Magnus Archives #gerry keay #gertrude robinson

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