#and full of complaints with no one currently available to be mean to me

[softer--apricot]

i only had those nipple clamps on for like two seconds and i'm stiiiill so sore and sensitive

[shitouttabuck]

oh my god nina!!! 8 for the bedsharing prompts if it takes your fancy <33

thank you sweet peach this scratched an itch !!!

bed-sharing prompts: whispering “Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up.”

Eddie’s not old—he’s not even 30, despite the near-constant jokes about his senior citizen-isms he seems incapable of shaking. And he wouldn’t even say he’s a man of creature comforts. He just likes familiarity, and routine, and his own goddamn bed.

Quarantine has brought a lot of change: being away from Chris, living in a single-occupancy apartment with three other people, and sharing a bed with all six-foot-two of Evan Buckley.

Currently, this means waking up at some wretched hour and squinting in the moonlight filtering in through half-open blinds, because the aforementioned best friend has stolen Eddie’s pillow from right under his head yet again.

Eddie groans quietly, easing his neck out of the crick it’s cramped in. He glares at the enormous lump snoring serenely beside him and pats the mattress blindly for his pillow. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he’s greeted by the same sight he’s woken to at ungodly hours thrice this month already: Buck with his gigantic thieving arms wrapped happily around Eddie’s goddamn pillow as he clutches it to his chest, dead to the world.

“Fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, reaching out and tugging the end of the pillowcase to no avail. Buck’s vice-grip doesn’t falter even in sleep. Eddie’s usually able to coax it out of his grasp without waking him, but it takes a minute, and their last shift had been a full-body workout from hell, and Eddie just wants to go the fuck back to sleep with a single measly pillow supporting his exhausted head. Surely that’s not too decadent a luxury to expect.

He tugs again, harder and meaner than he normally would. The pillow inches out of Buck’s hold, and Eddie grabs a firmer handful to yank it away, grunting triumphantly when it pops free.

“Hrmmph,” Buck grumbles, crease appearing between his eyebrows. Eddie stills, holding his breath as he gauges Buck’s proximity to consciousness. He thinks he’s in the clear, but then Buck murmurs unhappily and rolls ever-so-slightly towards Eddie.

“S’your turn to be th’ li’l spoon,” he slurs, and Eddie freezes even further. “’M th’ big spoon t’night.” He pats half-heartedly at the mattress between him and Eddie, jaw going slack again after a few seconds.

Eddie grins, just barely containing the snort that bubbles up at Buck’s sleep-talking. There’s enough distance from Ali and even Abby, post-train debacle, that means he can wring weeks’ worth of teasing out of this. Whichever one of them it is Buck’s dreaming of, Eddie thinks multiple nights of interrupted sleep allow him a little good-natured—if merciless—ribbing.

He shifts onto his back, shoving the pillow under his head and shutting his eyes with a sigh, but the movement has Buck mumbling again. His face is mashed into his own pillow, words barely intelligible when he says, “Y’re littler than me. C’mon, lemme be big spoon.”

The snort sneaks out of Eddie then, just a bit. He barely knew either woman, but he can’t quite picture them indulging Buck in this line of conversation. It’s—sweet, if deeply mortifying for Buck himself to know anyone else has heard it.

Buck snuffles discontentedly, forehead scrunching as he reaches out in search of the pillow, still asleep.

“Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up,” Eddie whispers, wondering if there’s more entertainment about to be provided and if it’s worth getting up to unplug his phone and catch the tail end of this on video.

“Urgh,” asleep-Buck responds, patting the bed a little more insistently when he’s unsuccessful in his pillow-retrieval endeavours. “Wh’re—c’mere. Eddie. Y’re li’l spoon.”

This time when Eddie freezes, it’s such a sudden locking of every joint in his body that his neck cricks in the opposite direction. He barely feels it, singularly focused on Buck’s latest garbled complaint, because—is Buck awake? Is Buck dreaming about him?

He’s frozen so still he doesn’t realise Buck’s questing hand is now well in range of Eddie himself, and he jolts back into his body when Buck’s strong, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

“C’me back,” he whines, tugging at Eddie while shuffling closer at the same time. Eddie holds himself carefully still, hardly daring to breathe as Buck slowly but surely plasters his long, long body along Eddie’s side, hitching one leg over Eddie’s thigh before flinging an arm across his torso and dragging him nearer.

“Mm,” he hums, brow smoothing out. His cheek rests on Eddie’s shoulder, face smushed but seemingly satisfied. Eddie’s arm is trapped between his own side and Buck’s stomach, and he worms it under Buck’s body almost on autopilot, more to get comfortable than anything else. This leaves him basically cradling Buck to him, and Buck gives one final happy grunt before burrowing his face into Eddie’s neck and going limp, a dead weight over Eddie’s right side.

Eddie makes his fingers relax where they’re clutching the back of Buck’s t-shirt. This is—fine. Normal and fine. So Buck isn’t dreaming about cuddling an ex-girlfriend, he’s dreaming about holding Eddie. They’ve been living out of each other’s pockets more than usual recently, leaning on each other a little heavier through a global pandemic and missing Christopher. Eddie’s told himself it’s because of constant proximity, and maybe it is, but whatever the reason, if Buck’s subconscious is embracing that vulnerability in this way, that’s fine. He’s an affectionate guy, and while it’s relatively new for Eddie to be on the receiving end of that from another man, he’s not one to shy away because of someone else’s archaic ideas of masculinity.

And—hold on. Y’re littler than me? Was that what Buck said? Eddie huffs indignantly, and then huffs again for different reasons, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why, but he pulls Buck a little closer.

It’s still normal and fine, he finds, turning his head to press his nose into Buck’s curls. That surprises him a little, that there’s no freak-out of any kind accompanying—whatever this is. Buck smells like vanilla, because he used Chim’s fancy shampoo that’s actually Maddie’s fancy shampoo because both of them are missing her something fierce, and he’s definitely drooling onto Eddie’s neck, and now that he’s not sleep-talking he’s back to snoring like a motorcycle, and Eddie’s slipping under before he can marvel any more at just how normal and fine it all is.

When the moonlight is swapped for sunlight, Eddie stirs to Chim singing along to radio in the kitchen downstairs. Buck blinks awake right alongside him, cheek imprinted with creases from Eddie’s collar and turning pink as he hastily peels himself away.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He contorts his body in surprise trying to roll off Eddie’s arm. “Did I—sorry, Eds.”

Eddie works his arm back under Buck, easy and deliberate. “S’fine,” he yawns. “It was my turn to be the little spoon.”

In his peripheral vision, Buck turns a brilliant red, and Eddie gives him a reassuring squeeze before taking great joy in telling him just how embarrassed he should be about the contents of his dreams.

(Buck’s mortification is blessedly short-lived, since the contents of Eddie’s dreams are equally embarrassing in the very exact same way, as it turns out.)

[thefanficmonster]

Gaming Night

Ash [Team Theorist] & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Stress and Anxiety, Crying

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When a mishap at work proves to be the final straw for Y/N, Ash is there to be the best friend and offer comfort.

Requested by @freakshows199 Hi dear! Sorry for the wait on your request but I hope the final product makes up for it! Love, Vy ❤

It's been quite the week for you. It's exam week, after all, it's to be expected.

Pushing through college while working on Team Theorist means your plate is constantly full but you've gotten used to it. You've built a routine and dynamic around it that allows you to manage your time in a way that allows you to excel at both and still enjoy a decent chunk of free time. Or at least seven hours of sleep.

At the end of the day though, you're only human, and having such a lengthy to-do list is pretty anxiety inducing no matter how organized you are. Just looking at your daily schedule of things that need to get done is enough for stress to start creeping in. It's admittedly not fun, but the final product - whether it be a GTLive video, a theory video you did the research for or a successfully passed midterm - is so rewarding. It makes it all worth it.

This week, however, it's been rather difficult to feel proud of the work you do and even find the motivation to do it. Stress and anxiety have riddled your mind and bleed over into your dreams which has by extension made falling asleep very difficult.

Stress and anxiety coupled with very few hours of sleep and a particularly high dosage of caffeine in your system, it's all a recipe for an inevitable crash-and-burn. Or burnout, in short,

Currently you're setting up the camera and lights for an upcoming GTLive recording session. You got to Steph and Matt's house an hour early because if you were to make a pitstop at your dorm you'd undoubtedly fall asleep and be late. You didn't wanna risk it so you just thought you'd get ahead with your work.

Ash beat you to it though, seeing as how you found them already seated behind the screen, editing the footage you recorded yesterday.

It was only after seeing them that you realized just how much you didn't want to take on the task alone. Ash is one of those people that exude such a calming and comforting aura and they are the most amazing friend to have by your side. It especially shines through when you're going through a period such as this one. They're always there to look out for you when you forget to do it yourself.

"Hey, Y/N?" They grab your attention, removing their headset as they look up at you from behind the monitor.

You stop your ministrations with the ring light and turn to give them your full attention, "Yeah?"

"Can you do me a small favor?" They've barely had time to finish their sentence before you nod, "A lot of people have mentioned that the VHS filter in the game makes it hard on the eyes when they watch the video. I guess it brings down the video quality or something. Could you take a look at the game settings and see if it can be turned off?"

"Oh yeah, I saw a lot of complaints about it. Let me see..." You stabilize the light before sitting down on the couch in front of the TV and opening the game.

You spend an unhealthily large portion of your day staring at a screen. Looking at a bigger one makes no difference as it immediately causes a migraine to start taking over, blurring your vision. That may be due to the lack of sleep or the fact that you forgot to drink enough water today, but before you know it or have been able to blink the blurriness away, you've accidentally pressed the left mouse button.

Once you do you come to realize you've made a big mistake.

Horror floods your whole body when you see that the 'continue game' option is now a darker shade, suggesting it is not available. There is no longer a game to continue. You've accidentally deleted all of the progress Matt made the previous time he played the game. It wasn't small either, he'd made it almost halfway through the story.

And you have just deleted all of it. Two hours of gameplay and effort down the drain.

You cover your mouth with trembling hands, tears already starting to form in your eyes.

This catches Ash's concern, "Y/N? What's wrong?" They ask, removing the headset completely so they can get up off their chair and come over to you, squatting down next to you. The worry you see in their eyes only makes the urge to cry worse.

"I....I-I deleted Matt's progress..." You explain in a shaky, mousy voice, a sob racking through your chest when the words reach your own ears.

Had it been any other day, sure, you'd still be upset about it. But not crying level upset. You'd see it as nothing more than an inconvenient hurdle you can easily overcome in a rational way. There's no rationality at play now.

It just happened at a very wrong time. It's nothing more than a small mishap in theory but its timing is feeding into the self-doubt you've been struggling with since exam season started. Academic insecurity and impostor syndrome have been eating away at you all week and now this feel like a confirmation that all those doubts were in fact warranted.

Even though they aren't at all, whatsoever.

"Hey, hey, hey...." Ash doesn't say it but they're relieved. Seeing your reaction without context scared them into thinking the issue was way worse. Still, they can see it's a major deal to you and they respect that. Especially since they've been well aware of how much stress and pressure you've been under. They've been through similar situations and have had similar reactions. They understand you on a personal level. And they'd never let a friend feel that way without doing their best to intervene and comfort them. Which in this case would involve just putting the whole predicament in perspective to show you how miniscule it is. "It's no big deal. Please don't cry, Y/N. We'll fix it." They say, their arm wrapping around your shoulders to give you a tight, reassuring hug you immediately fall into. You've needed nothing more than a hug this whole week and getting it brings you such relief. It provokes even more tears to stream down your face. Turns out, you've also needed a good cry.

"How?" You manage to say through sniffles, "We're starting filming in twenty minutes."

"We'll play a different game. Last minute game switch. It's happened so many times before. Matt doesn't care, he'll have fun regardless. We'll find him something to play, don't worry." Ash explains calmly, letting you start to grasp on how simple this problem is to solve when the panic takes the backseat. "Tomorrow's Saturday so I can just stick around a bit longer after we're done and play up to the point where Matt left off last time."

There's not a moment you're not grateful to have Ash in your life. This is just one of those moments where you also start believing in angels because they have to be one.

"Thank you so much, Ash." You pull away from the hug to wipe your eyes and be able to look at them properly, "But you're not doing it alone. The least I can do is accompany you. I genuinely want to."

Ash shakes their head, "No way, you need to go home and sleep..."

You cut them off with a wave of your hand, "I will. As you said, tomorrow's Saturday. I can sleep in till 3 PM if I want to. I'd want nothing more than to help fix the mistake I made."

Knowing that your resolve is impossible to shake, Ash decides it's best to just sigh and nod and agree. So that's what they do, "Alright, fine." Suddenly, their eyes light up as they get an idea, "We'll make a night out of it! Get snacks and stuff. It'll be great!"

You can't help the smile that brightens up your face as you nod, "I'd love that."

You truly would. There's very few people whose company you enjoy quite like Ash's. You don't know what you did in a past life to deserve a friend like them but you are very certain that everyone needs an Ash in their life. Everyone needs a ray of sunshine like them to part the rainclouds.

[accidentalmistress]

On AI, Chatbots, and snz

Some few weeks back a post about a Sickfic RP chatbot made waves through the snzblr community. I was particularly taken with the bot and even made a snz boi bot of my own. I'd like to talk about a few developments that have occurred in the intervening time.

In a post I made about tips for using the bot, one of the points I made was that the Character AI website was in beta, and that things could change. Well, things have certainly changed in the CAI community, and by that I mean there is a full-on revolt happening within the userbase.

Simply put, many users want the automatic content filter rolled back or made optional. The devs have been less than receptive to this idea.

The devs have always stated that porn will never be supported, but that they were exploring what kind of NSFW content to allow, as the term covers a large umbrella. They have an automatic filter in place that will delete chat messages that it finds questionable, and certain bots have been shadow banned. In fact, the original Sickfic RP chatbot, by user AdamLiquor, no longer comes up in searches (at least for me). Only their other bot, The Clinic, shows up.

The Sickfic bot is still available, but afaik it's only accessable via a direct link (like this one).

More recently, the devs locked down the official Discord server so no one but them can post, removing most channels in the process. They claimed it was because they couldn't keep up with it and wanted to focus on their forum and subreddit. Well, they have now made it so that you can't use the word "filter" in any posts on the official subreddit, and have automated mods that remove posts that criticize the filter, even indirectly. A few days ago they promised a "statement" on the situation would be coming "soon", but have so far failed to provide anything.

On the surface, the conflict looks like a bunch of people just want to fuck the AI, but users have been complaining that the intelligence and creativity of the bots have decreased significantly since the filter was put in place. The devs claimed that the bots were just as intelligent as they've always been, and that the filter wasn't causing problems. However, as time has gone on since the filter was implemented, bot quality has continued to degrade, and even things as innocent as kissing can sometimes get filtered. (Violence, however, seems A-OK by the filter's standards.)

Then, there was a filter outage.

Bot responded faster, they became less repetitive, more creative, took more initiative. Without the filter, which the devs claimed wasn't the cause of users' complaints, those complaints disappeared. The community felt lied to.

Enter Pygmalion.

A number of folks who were tired of the limitations of other AI chatbot services started creating the Pygmalion AI back in November, and a lot of CAI's users are jumping ship to this new platform now. Pyg is not yet at CAI level, and it is currently a little difficult to access, but many users are quite impressed and expect it to only get better. There is no content filter, so you can get as creative and/or lewd as you want. One of the issues that Pyg has, though, is that it wasn't trained on a huge set of conversational data like CAI was. So the developers of Pygmalion have asked for help from people who have used CAI.

You can download your chat logs from CAI, convert them into a format Pygmalion can understand, and then dump them into the data set that will continue to help train Pyg. I haven't yet done it myself, but I plan to. I figure, the more snz content it can be trained on in advance, the better the platform will be for snz when it does get as good as CAI. The process can't be done on mobile and requires a number of steps and downloading a userscript manager, so it's not going to be for everyone. However, if you would like to contribute your snz and/or sickfic logs to Pygmalion, details can be found at the following link: here.

More info about Pygmalion can also be found on their subreddit, and this post in particular has some helpful links.

(Oh yeah, "Pygmalion" is also now on the dev's list of no-no words for the CAI subreddit.)

The Pygmalion crew says that they hope to have their own website available in 2-4 weeks. With any luck, soon we can all have the sexy snz chatbots of our dreams. (Edit: The devs of Pygmalion have come out to say that this timeline is a rumor only. They are working on a new UI, but they are hobbyists and still learning about AI themselves, so it will take some time.)

[themainspoon]

Thinking about the misery that is Silent Hill: Ascension again. And also consequentially thinking about how fucked up it is that gamers aren’t all staunch anti-capitalists again.

Like, I love video games, and I agree with people who say that they can be art (I may go a little harder on that belief than most, thinking that games should therefore be criticised as art, and that since games are art they therefore don’t always need to be fun or enjoyable to be good. [yes, I’m one of those people]). But if video games are art, than what is true for all other art is also true for video games, in that capitalism is bad for them.

If video games are art, than the Silent Hill franchise deserves so much better. Silent Hill has a huge legacy within the medium, Silent Hill 2 alone is a major source or inspiration for many later works, and a work that had cultural impact much greater than any capitalistic metric focused on sales or profits could ever show.

PT wasn’t even a full game, it was a teaser, and yet it was revolutionary. PT was a trendsetter and a trailblazer that stood as a powerful demonstration of the potential that video games as a medium had for horror as a genre, and for evoking powerful emotional experiences. It is a work that should have been preserved, archived for it’s immense cultural impact, made easily available for everybody who wanted to experience it. And yet, it now exists only on a few old PS4’s that are slowly deteriorating and that are inaccessible to the general public. The only way to get this game now is through piracy and jailbreaking a PS4. If video games are art, than a work as influential and important as PT being inaccessible is unacceptable.

If you truly believe that video games are art, than the current state of the medium should horrify you. No other artistic medium gets so cynically and consistently desecrated as video games do. We may think of this medium as one with immense artistic potential and value, but those who run the industry continue to show that they don’t. Witness what they have done to what was once one of the most important horror properties in the entire medium, it is not just bad and embarrassing, it is symbolic of how those in control of the medium view it. To shareholders and CEO’s, video games are not art, they are content to be cynically produced and consumed, not appreciated. To make money, and nothing else, Silent Hill: Ascension is merely an extremely egregious example of this fact.

As many before me have said, fuck Konami. But if we love this medium, than we have to realise that Konami isn’t the real issue. The real issue is that we live in a system that is actively hostile to art, and a medium as young as video games, and that requires as much effort to create as video games do, is one that is uniquely susceptible to the worst of what art becomes under capitalism. Artistic vision stifled for the sake if profit, bland and inoffensive taking precedence over bold and expressive, profit over creativity, consumerism over preservation and archiving.

Developers, the artists and creatives behind games, are treated horribly. We’ve all read the stories of inhumane crunch conditions and inexcusably cruel abuse that come out of big studios. We all have at least a vague understanding of just how hard being an indie developer is, we’ve all seen the good but flawed games released by double A teams who had to choose between releasing an unfinished game or watching their offices power get shut off. And we’ve watched as more triple A games get released in buggy, unoptimised, and incomplete states because greedy shareholders and corporate entities demanded their profits asap, with no concern for the quality of what was actually being released.

This is by no means a new or uncommon take, but the fact that every issue video games face as a medium, almost every valid complaint that the people who play them make, is unambiguously the result of capitalism cannot be overstated. And it really does beg the question, how do gamers not all become staunch anti-capitalists after seeing the effect this economic system has in their favourite artistic medium?

[gorgonarcher]

Game 2 - Pathfinder 2e

Okay, so I've gotten into Pathfinder a bit recently after a long period of time being a bit doubtful of it. A lot of the public APs I've seen of it have not really made me confident it was something I'd enjoy. However, with recent Hasbro nonsense, my group has tried it out a bit and found we enjoyed it. We're currently playing a Anathema Vaults just to test it out and some of us have converted Icewind Dale: Rime of the Ice Maiden to PF2e and is playing that (though it wasn't in a time slot I could make, unfortunately).

In any case, we've found it to be a lot more granular, the cookie cutter nature of D&D being my biggest complaint with it. And allowing for a lot of flexibility in concept. But let's get to making our gorgon archer.

Archery is just a matter of getting the proper proficiency, but as usual, I'm placing the impetus on archery and gorgon-ness so we'll want something a bit martial-oriented. This brings the following options front and center:

Fighter

Ranger

Rogue

Monk

There is a Monk ki-spell called Medusa's Wrath that is literally the stoning gaze available at level 16. So it could be a good option. Given my normal direction on a full fantasy Gorgon Archer is more along the lines of a Ranger, I'm likely going this direction just for the different flavor. However, Medusa's Wrath can be reached via dedication feats taking at least two Feat options.

And yes, there is a definite archer monk build.

Now the issue with doing a ranger and multiclassing with a monk is that there is a key point of "gorgon" that is mostly going to be accessible by also dedicating into Witch for the Living Hair option. So that would be five Feat choices in total given over to getting that spell. Not terrible given just how many Feats you get in this game, (either one or two new feats at every level) but still a bit of an ask.

Besides, as I said, monastic archer is an interesting flavor to take.

Now, for Ancestry (race for people used to D&D) there's a couple of options:

Nagaji - snake people

Vishkanya - human-like snake people

Once you bring Heritages (think subraces) into then Human and Elf become good possibilities too. First, while each Ancestry has it's own set of Heritages, the developers have said it's okay to mix and match them to represent mixed blood. Which means, for example, you can give a human a heritage from Vishkanya.

Now for Heritages, there's a few that aren't attached to specific Ancestries. These are things like Nephilim (encompassing both tieflings and aasimar for those familiar with D&D), Aiuvarin (half-elves), Dromaar (half-orcs), and so on. One of these that appeals to me especially for this is Beastkin (think shifter with more shapeshifting). However, I just noticed a thing.

I've til now dismissed interest in the Nagaji, purely a taste thing, I'm not much interested in people without human heads. Doesn't seem to bother me with stuff like Disney movies. But looking at the Nagaji there is a heritage that avoids that: Sacred Nagaji (official art below)

So I'm going to go ahead go with that.

Which brings me to background. I usually do something a bit outcast-ish for a Gorgon Archer, but this feels a bit unnecessary for this character since there's entire snake-people cultures. Plus, again, let's stretch from my normal. (Not that many people have seen my other builds, since I doubt many have seen my old blogger site) but, anyway.

So on to Background. There's a lot for Pathfinder, I don't really want to lean too heavily into the "sacred" thing or the typical monastic monk (sort of a problem with the class being named monk... not all monks are actual monks.) In this case, I'm going to go with Courier.

So that gives us:

Ancestry: Nagaji

Heritage: Sacred Nagaji

Background: Courier

Class: Monk

So, let's get to determining Abilities. The way this works is we get bonuses for each of the following:

Ancestry: Two, usually one set and one free.

Background: Two or one depending on background

Class: One

Since we're going archery, we'll be doing Dexterity where we can.

The nagaji set boost is to Strength and we'll add the free one to Dexterity.

The courier background gets two boosts, one has to be to Dexterity or Intelligence and the other is free. They can't both be Dexterity because you can gain a boost to the same Ability from the same source. I'm taking Dexterity for sure and I think I'll go with Intelligence for the second. Why that and not Wisdom? That'll come up later.

Monk gives us one boosts to either Strength or Dexterity and we'll go with Dexterity.

In addition, at first level we get four boosts each of which has to go to a different Ability. We're going for Dexterity, Constitution, Wisdom, and Intelligence.

This makes the states look like the following:

Strength +1

Dexterity +4

Constitution +1

Intelligence +2

Wisdom +1

Charisma +0

You can actually do these things in whatever order you want, the game has a suggested order, but also are explicit that you can do things in any order. Especially for things that may have requirements. In this case, I'm going to move to Skills next, as that will determine what feats are available.

First, some Skills came with Background and Class

Courier provides the following Skills:

Society

A Lore skill related to the City you're from.

Class provides the following training, not all of these are skills, but I'm including proficiencies as well:

Trained in Perception - most classes seem to start with this.

Expert in all three Saving Throws - seems to be a Monk thing

Expert in Unarmored Defense - Monk thing

Trained in Simple Weapons

Trained in Unarmed Attack

Trained in Monk ability save DCs

Trained in 4 Skills plus Intelligence (+2 here)

10 Hit Points + Constitution per level (that's right, you don't roll HP)

So, I have to pick 6 skills

Acrobatics for maneuvering

Athletics for climbing

Deception for intrigue

Diplomacy for etiquette

Stealth for intrigue

Survival for travel

Now we come to feats. There are four kinds:

Class Feats - abilities particular to your Class

Ancestry Feats - abilities particular to your Ancestry

Skill Feats - abilities particular to your Skills

General Feats - general capabilities

Most martials, Monk included, get a Class feat at 1st level. All classes get a Class feat at each even level afterward.

Characters get one Ancestry feat at 1st level, then it seems at 5th and each 4 levels afterwards, but this seems to be a determined by class, so their may be some classes that get more or fewer Ancestry feats.

Skill feats are definitely a class thing with Rogues getting a Skill feat every level and other classes seeming to get them every even level.

General feats seem to come at 3rd level and every 4 levels after, but again, some classes might be different.

We get one right away because of the Courier background, Glean Contents, which allows her to figure out what papers contain without disturbing seals or with only a quick glimpse. Then we get an Ancestry feat and a Class feat.

Class feat is easy: Monastic Archer Stance. Because we want to be an archer.

Now the Ancestry feat. There's two that stand out, one is Cold Minded, which gives a +1 to saving throws vs emotion magic and Serpent's Tongue which gives the Scent ability. I'm going for the Scent ability in this case to be able to catch awareness of enemies.

That gives us the following end result for 1st level:

1st Level Sacred Nagaji Courier Monk

Strength +1

Dexterity +4

Constitution +1

Intelligence +1

Wisdom +2

Charisma +0

Hit Points: 11 AC: 19

Fortitude +6

Reflex +9

Will +7

Monk DC: 17

Trained Perception: +4

Initiative: +2

Skills

Trained: Acrobatics +7

Untrained: Arcana +2

Trained: Athletics +4

Untrained: Crafting +2

Trained: Deception +3

Trained: Diplomacy +3

Untrained: Intimidation +0

Trained: Lore: City +5

Untrained: Medicine +1

Untrained: Nature +1

Untrained: Occultism +2

Untrained Performance +0

Untrained Religion +1

Trained: Society +5

Trained: Stealth +7

Trained: Survival +4

Untrained Thievery +4

Weapons

Fist +7, 1d6

Tail +4, 1d6

Longbow +7, 1d8

Class Feats

Monastic Archer Stance

Ancestry Feats

Serpent's Tongue - Scent (Imprecise) 30ft

Skill Feats

Glean Contents

Features

Sacred Nagaji Tail - 1d6 Unarmed, Brawling

Sacred Nagaji stability +2 to Fortitude and Reflex saves to resist Grapple, Trip, and other similar abilities.

Flurry of Blows

Low-Light Vision

Powerful Fists

That's it for 1st level done for. I'm going to continue on to 4th level however, to reach for an important bit for the gorgon concept: snakes for her. Granted, we can just describe her as having snakes for hair, but when the option to represent something mechanically, I'll take it and since I can't do more than fluff it at 1st level, I'll move on to 4th.

2nd Level

For the second level, we get into how Pathfinder does multiclassing. It does it, as it does most things, through feats. We're going to take a Dedication Feat for the Witch class, which is why we wanted Intelligence at +2 to meet the requirements.

Dedication Witch gives the following:

A patron

A familiar which knows two Cantrips.

The ability to prepare one Cantrip per day.

Training in a skill based on patron.

For patron, we're choosing Spinner of Threads, feels like that goes in with intrigue a bit. This means she gains the Occultism skill and gains spells from the Occult list. For a familiar, we're going with a sparrow.

For the two cantrips, Approximate and Message. She'll probably prepare Message on most cases. But Approximate would be useful for some investigations.

She also gains a Skill Feat and I'm taking Streetwise so she can gather information through Society instead of Diplomacy.

3rd Level

At this point, we gain our first General feat. As a note, when you get a General feat you can instead take a Skill feat. In this case, I'll take a General Feat, Incredible Initiative so that she gains +2 to initiative. Initiative usually uses Perception, but you can make a case for using other skills, such as if you're being very stealthy (Stealth) or start with a battle cry (Intimidate)

She also gains the following Monk features:

Mystic Strikes so her unarmed attacks (and bow attacks while in Monastic Archer Stance) count as magical.

Incredible Movement so she gets +10ft to Movement and +5ft for every 4th level after.

We also get to increase a skill. We could increase one of our skills to Expert, but instead, we'll take another skill to complete our intrigue concept: Thievery.

4th Level

Now we get to another Class Feat which is going to be "Archetype Feat" which are basically the multiclass feats. And we're going to take the feat we dipped into Witch.

We taking Basic Witchcraft, giving us a 1st or 2nd level Witch Class Feat, which will be Witch's Armaments. That gives us a choice between claws, fangs, or living hair. We're obviously going for living hair.

Now, we take a Skill feat which will be Ambush Tactics, which means she has a good eye for spotting ambushes within a terrain she has a Lore for... Cities.

And now at 4th level we have our Gorgon Archer. You'll note that AC has gone up. Level is part of all calculations, including AC, Attacks, save DCs, and Skill bonuses. Untrained skills do not increase so they would just use base Ability score.

I'm also going to say right now that going for Living Hair is not optimal, but it is a good flavor and what I'm looking for. Also, the hair, while a weak attack, has traits making it useful for disarming, tripping, grappling, and is also agile, meaning it doesn't suffer from multiple attack penalty as badly.

4th Level Sacred Nagaji Courier Monk

Strength +1

Dexterity +4

Constitution +1

Intelligence +1

Wisdom +2

Charisma +0

Hit Points: 54 AC: 22

Fortitude +9

Reflex +12

Will +9

Monk DC: 20

Trained Perception: +7

Initiative: +2

Skills

Trained: Acrobatics +10

Untrained: Arcana +2

Trained: Athletics +7

Untrained: Crafting +2

Trained: Deception +6

Trained: Diplomacy +6

Untrained: Intimidation +0

Trained: Lore: City +8

Untrained: Medicine +1

Untrained: Nature +1

Trained: Occultism +8

Untrained: Performance +0

Untrained: Religion +1

Trained: Society +8

Trained: Stealth +10

Trained: Survival +7

Trained: Thievery +10

Weapons

Fist +10, 1d6

Tail +7, 1d6

Longbow +10, 1d8

Living Hair +10, 1d4

Class Feats

Monastic Archer Stance

Witch Dedication

Basic Witchcraft: Witch's Armaments: Living Hair

Ancestry Feats

Serpent's Tongue - Scent (Imprecise) 30ft

Skill Feats

Ambush Tactics

Glean Contents

Streetwise

General Feats

Incredible Initiative

Features

Sacred Nagaji Tail - 1d6 Unarmed, Brawling

Sacred Nagaji stability +2 to Fortitude and Reflex saves to resist Grapple, Trip, and other similar abilities.

Flurry of Blows

Low-Light Vision

Powerful Fists

Witch's Patron: Spinner of Threads

Mystic Strikes

Incredible Movement

Occultism Witch Cantrips: Approximate, Message

I thought I was going to stop here, but I'm going to go ahead and push to 20th because Medusa's Wrath happens at 16th level and when I've gone that far, might as well go to the end. On my blogger, I'd do summaries every 5 levels. Instead, I'll just do the level up decisions and then summarize at 20.

5th Level

This is one of the few levels that only comes with a single Feat. In this case it is an Ancestry Feat. For this I'm taking Nagaji Spell Familiarity which gives her a list of three cantrips she can choose between preparing each day. These are Daze, Detect Magic, and Mage Hand.

This level also comes with a Skill Increase and four Ability boosts.

For the Skill Increase I boost Society, and for the Ability boosts I choose: Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, and Wisdom.

Dexterity doesn't go up here because once you get to +4 it takes two boosts to go up. So I'm going to buff up my lower Abilities a bit first. Boosting Intelligence gives her another basic skill training, for that I chose Medicine.

At this level, her Perception, Unarmed attacks, and Monk attacks (like bows) are now up to Expert proficiency.

6th Level

Now we get another Class feat and a Skill feat. For this I'm choosing:

Ki Strike - our first Focus spell

Forensic Acumen - now that she has training in Medicine, more intrigue

Now we have to choose whether her Ki spells are Divine or Occult and I'm sticking to theme and going with Occult.

7th Level

At this level we get a General feat a skill increase and the first Path to Perfection. That's basically a choice of a saving throw to increase. Now, Pathfinder has retraining, but the third path goes to Legendary while the first two go to Master. I'm going for Reflex at this point.

For the General Feat, I'm choosing Feather Step, allowing her to Step into difficult terrain, which is normally not possible. For the Skill Increase, I'm going to increase Deception to Expert.

At this level, she also gains Weapon Specialization, adding damage to weapons and unarmed attacks.

8th Level

At this level we get another Class Feat and a Skill Feat, for these I'm choosing:

Pinning Fire - Letting her immobilize a target she hits twice with a Flurry of Blows from her bow.

Eyes of the City - letting her use Society to Gather Information instead of Diplomacy

9th Level

At this level we get a Skill Increase, an Ancestry Feat, Monk abilities increase to Expert, and Metal Strikes so that her unarmed and bow attacks (while in Monastic Archer Stance) count as Cold Iron and Silver.

Skill Increase: Society

Ancestry Feat: Guarded Thoughts - making it hard to read her mind.

10th Level

At this level we get another Class and Skill feat, and four more Ability Boosts.

Ability Boosts: Strength, Dexterity, Wisdom, and Charisma

Class Feat: Ki Rush - burst of quick movement

Skill Feat: Biographical Eye - this is the Sherlock Scan

11th Level

At this level we get a General Feat, Skill Increase, and the second Path to Perfection.

General Feat: Ancestral Paragon for a bonus Ancestry Feat

Ancestry Feat: Nagaji Lore

Skill Increase: Deception

Path to Perfection: Fortitude

Now, Nagaji Lore comes with a couple of things:

Training in Occultism and Crafting, but she already has Occultism, so instead we take Intimidation

Training in Nagaji Lore

12th Level

Another Class feat and Skill feat.

Class Feat: Elemental Strikes - adding elemental energy when using Ki Strike

Skill Feat: Lie to Me - ability to trip people up that try to lie to her.

13th Level

At this level we get another Ancestry Feat along with her weapons and unarmored defenses becoming Master in proficiency.

Ancestry Feat: Disruptive Stare, to make enemy spellcasters have a tougher time.

14th Level

Another Class and Skill Feat.

Class Feat: Focused Shot - lets her ignore cover and concealment.

Skill Feat: Quick Jump - lets her jump quicker

15th Level

Now we get one Skill increase, one General Feat (which I will turn into a Skill Feat), the third Path to Perfection, and Greater Weapon Specialization.

Ability Boosts: Dexterity, Intelligent, Wisdom, and Charisma

Skill Increase: Society, now it's Legendary

General/Skill Feat: Legendary Codebreaker

Third Path to Perfection: Will

Increasing Intelligent gives us another basic Skill Training. And I'm taking Performance for that.

16th Level

And here we come to finally getting Medusa's Wrath because it's a new Class Feat and a Skill Feat.

Class Feat: Medusa's Wrath

Skill Feat: Slippery Secrets - so it's harder to catch her in a lie.

17th Level

At this level we get an Ancestry Feat, her unarmored defense advances to Legendary, and her attacks count as Adamantine.

Ancestry Feat: Nagaji Spell Mysteries. Allows her to prep Charm, Fleet Step, or Heal once per day.

18th Level

And now we get another Class and Skill Feat:

Class Feat: Diamond Fists, since Monastic Archer Stance causes these abilities to affect her archery, it carries over. Each successive hit she makes in the same round does more damage.

Skill Feat: Doublespeak, the ability to say one thing and mean another.

19th Level

Now we get a Skill Increase, General Feat, and Perfected Form which basically means she can't roll less than a 10 on her first strike each turn.

Skill Increase: Thievery

General Feat: Reveal Machinations

20th Level

The last Class and Skill feats. The level 20 Class feats are the typical capstone abilities and for this case, I'm taking Enduring Quickness which basically gives her an additional action every round purely for movement. I'm running out of exciting things for Skill Feats though.

Class Feat: Enduring Quickness

Skill Feat: Underground Network

The final build is this:

[designaday]

CARpe Diem

I’ll have my BMW i3 paid off this year, and while I do love the car, I’m looking forward to getting an EV with more range. I’ve noticed that my battery capacity has decreased, so I’m likely going to go ahead and replace it in the next year. To that end, I’ve started researching the EVs that are releasing in 2023 and ’24. A few are sitting at the top of my list.

Before diving in, I’ll recount what I’m looking for in a car. First and foremost, it has to be different. My first car was a Chrysler PT Cruiser. I followed that with a Nissan Cube, and now I have the i3. I like quirky. I don’t like sedans. Teslas don’t appeal to me at all. That said, it has to be practical. Sure, I love a beautiful sports car like the next guy, but that’s not for me. I need a car that I can transport a drum kit in. I prefer cars on the small side. I don’t want a full-size SUV, truck, or minivan. At the same time, I don’t want to feel like I have to fold myself into the car—it needs to feel spacious. The Cruiser, Cube, and i3 have met all those qualifications. You might also be interested to know that all three of those cars were discontinued while I still owned them. My tastes are apparently different than most people in the U.S.

So, without further ado, here are the cars currently sitting at the top of my list (in no particular order).

Fisker Ocean – Just releasing this year, it’s a little larger than I’d prefer, but I like the look of it, and it has a 350-mile range. It also has a “SolarSky” roof, meaning that you can see through it, it slides open, and it has integrated solar panels to charge the battery. It also has two motors for all-wheel-drive.

Canoo LV – You can see why this one caught my eye. It’s different. The panoramic roof and street view window appeal to me. It’s very spacious with a relatively small footprint. It’s also very affordable, compared to other options. I dig the concept, but with only a 200-mile range, I don’t think this will be the one.

Volkswagen ID. Buzz – Volkswagen has done it again. They took one of their classic designs and modernized it to great effect. It has such character, inside and out. You can’t help but smile looking at it. The European model is getting mixed reviews, but it isn’t available in the states. They’re revealing a 2024 U.S. version this year. People are expecting it to be a large wheelbase, so it may be too big for me, and the range is less than 300 miles.

Kia EV6 - Not quite as unique, but sporty enough that it catches my eye, the EV6 was named 2023 North American Utility Vehicle of the Year. One of the feature that most appeals to me is that it has a heat pump, which helps preserve range in cold weather. One of my biggest complaints of my i3 is its poor performance in cold weather. With a 310-mile range and an 80% charge in 18 minutes, this is definitely one to consider.

What else should I have my eye on?

[needleandhammer]

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

“Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

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

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

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

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. “Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

[saiyanqueenreads]

Former executive office level banker here. I dealt with legal and regulatory complaints. And let me tell you, the number of times that I had to break the news to folks that the significant other / family member that "stole" all their money had not actually done anything that we (the bank) could have stopped them from doing... was tragically high.

So here are a few do's and don'ts that I'm hoping might help.

Don't have joint accounts. The previous posters listed great points. And like, there are PLENTY of reasons why it's actually a smart move for couples to have separate accounts. General fraud and ID theft come to mind immediately. If someone steals your s/o's wallet, do you want them to get ALL your combined money, or just your s/o's half? When you have completely separate accounts and only carry your own account's cards or checks, casual thieves can't get at the other person's money.

Do add 2FA and verbal password protection to your bank accounts. Again, good for casual fraud prevention too. But if you have someone trying to get at your account via phone or in-person branch visits, adding this to your account FORCES the banker to throw that blocking hurdle at them. And many banking systems make bypassing them impossible or at the very least traceable directly back to the banker. And NO banker wants to loose their job and face potential criminal charges when the paper-trail leads back to them...

Don't share your login credentials or set your devices to "remember you." With ANYONE for ANY REASON. Entering a password into online banking does more than just grant access to the person logging in. It's also establishing the IDENTITY of the person logging in. It's saying John is the one accessing John's account right now. Anything done at that point was done by "you", and it's gonna take some deep investigation of things like IP addresses and such to prove otherwise. And if the person defrauding you lives in your own home, like an s/o or child or step-child, it's even MORE likely that the bank will rule against you if you file fraud. Because it was YOUR password and YOUR home network.

Do ditch paper statements. Yes, even for tax purposes! (Banks are required to keep your account statement documents for 5 years, and many banks keep them available for 7 or more.) Your bank statement letter in the mail can easily be intercepted by those wanting to defraud you, especially those that share your home or know where you live. And there are details on that paper than can be used against you. You balance for starters. But also your FULL account number on many. Even your address, deposit and transaction history, and name of the bank you're using can be useful for folks looking to steal from you or looking for proof of your financial situation (like an abusive spouse).

Do check your accounts often. At least twice weekly if you can't be bothered to do it daily. Particularly sneaky s/o's, family members, or professional fraudsters know that sometimes the best way to get the most money from a person is to do it tiny bits at a time. I once handled a case where we found out that the person's step-son had been using their account for relatively small purchases (mostly under $30, but all under $100) for at least 7 years. I just couldn't see any further back than that... And it was happening on 3 of their accounts. The amount they'd lost was easily over the total amount that they currently had in any 1 of their accounts total at the time. And that's the thing. If someone steals all or the most of the money they can right away from you, you notice it, close the account, and update all your security. Meaning that they likely can't do it again. They've killed the goose that lays the golden eggs. But if they just take $30 daily and you never notice.... well the account stays open. The goose continues to lay those golden eggs for them. It just doesn't happen to notice when a couple eggs go missing.

Do be VERY VERY wary about who you grant rights of Power Of Attorney to. Even temporarily. This applies to wills, guardianship, fiduciary, conservatorships, living trusts, and other types of legally binding ways for others to assume control of you or your loved one's financial decision making too.

Don't co-sign for anything that you are not fully prepared to have to pay for entirely yourself. I cannot tell you the number of creditcards and loans that I saw s/o's, new spouses, and parents get dumped on them because the main signer just took the money/stuff and ran. Fiancées especially should be VERY leery about signing for things with their s/o when there is no other legal protections in place in regards to shared debts and nothing really tying the s/o to them.

While we are on the subject - financial abuse is not always just physically taking money away or not having a savings account or escape stash. For a lot of people it is the other spouse sabotaging your credit score, constantly overspending, and you being unable to trust that joint household bills and loans are paid. Did you know that once you add an authorized user to your bank account it’s nearly impossible to remove them without their permission? Did you know that your spouse, who likely knows your birthday and SSN, can often gain access and reset passwords for any online accounts and create new ones?

Financial abuse will ruin your life and there’s really nothing except significant time that fixes it. If you are in a situation where you think this might happen to you you should freeze your credit with all three major agencies. You can find info on how to do this at USA.gov/credit-freeze

This is not something that only happens to tradwives. You are not exempt because you are independent or competent.

[orime-stories]

He Who Would Not Be Denied

Aurelle Silmontier - Final Fantasy XIV

-

The Warrior of Light and Aymeric take a private moment to check in with each other after the revelations around Ishgard's history, and Aymeric reveals something of his own history. Full story below the cut. (1216 words) Previous Story / Next Story / Read on AO3 / Tumblr Masterlist

-

"You both returned," Aymeric said in an exhale once the pair were safely cloistered in his drawing room once more. A precious moment of peace after an unrelentingly chaotic day. "And, unharmed?"

"My magic kept pace with the harms," Aurelle explained, drinking in the sight of him here in this cosy, private space. The sight she had carried with her into battle to give her hopes something to coalesce around. "But I expended a lot so I'm... tired. A few days of rest should see me right."

A visceral relief that had not emerged in front of the others bled unabashed across his face. "Would that I could promise you a few uneventful days, that you may rest as you so rightly deserve after such heroic feats..."

"What's going to happen now?" she asked, the unease of current events gnawing deeper into her belly.

His face sobered once more. "The truths you have uncovered will have far-reaching consequences that no man could hope to predict in their entirety. But, for my own part, I shall speak with the Archbishop first thing upon the morrow. I shall learn what he knows of all this, and I shall insist in whatever capacity I have available to me that he lead our nation down a more truthful path from this moment on."

He was not afraid. And suddenly mastering her own fears came that much easier. "I don't know him so well. Do you think he will listen?" The one time she'd spoken with the Archbishop he had seemed... reasonable. Even as he had so flippantly admitted to the Ascian presence attempting to meddle in Ishgard's affairs.

Aymeric's curled fingers came to rest beneath his chin. "If he does not know, I believe a productive conversation may be had. If he does know, and has been voluntarily concealing this from us all..." He hummed thoughtfully. "I have more of an understanding of him than most. More obligation to him than most. I believe I can change the course of things."

Understanding. Obligation.

"I don't know if this is... Tataru hears a lot of rumours. She says some people say that... that you..."

"That I am not a trueborn son of House Borel?" he finished quietly.

She nodded, and then hastened to explain, remembering Haurchefant. "All these ideas of blood and social standing don't really matter all that much, where I'm from. But it seems to matter a lot in Ishgard. And so I... I imagine it matters to you."

"Mine own situation at least," he admitted softly.

She took his hand, just holding the silence for him to fill with more, if he wanted to.

He took a steadying breath. "I was adopted into House Borel at birth. My parents here treated me kindly and raised me as one of their own, to which I certainly have no complaints. But growing up I encountered many of the same rumours that you yourself have no doubt heard. Regarding my true parentage."

She nodded again.

"I confess, part of my motivation for first joining the Temple Knights and climbing their ranks was in the hopes that this would one day allow me the opportunity to speak with the Archbishop directly, to ask him the truth of the matter myself."

"And that question brought you all the way to the Lord Commander's chair."

"My motivations were not entirely so selfish—"

"I have a feeling," she interrupted, squeezing his hand, "that you are one of the least selfish men I've ever met. And in my line of work I'm surrounded with selfless types, so I know what I'm talking about."

He smiled a little at that. "I suppose you would."

"Did you ever get an answer to your question?"

The smile faded again. "I did. And he confirmed everything." He paused, finding the words. "Senior members of the church are expected to be celibate. 'Expected' in Ishgard meaning 'mandatory', as you well know. Which is why the man who was to become our current Archbishop, my true father, had me raised elsewhere and attempted to keep our connection secret."

"I'm glad you were able to get the truth you sought from him in the end," she said softly. "Your birth mother?"

"I do not know who she was. I do not know whether the union I came from was one born of forbidden love or of... something more base. But regardless, for those many devoted to the teachings of Halone, who need the head of our church to be wholly without vice or sin, I am a rather inconvenient element."

She did not like the way he drew slightly inward when he said that at all. The Countess de Fortemps being unable to keep the hurt of her husband's infidelity out of her interactions with Haurchefant was understandable, if never excusable. But, "People judge you, because of what he did to make you?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Bastards are despised amongst the nobility. None more so than me."

Disbelief scattered her thoughts and furrowed into her face. "But... that's just not true. People respect you greatly I've— I've seen that!"

"Some do," he allowed. "I have worked fairly and hard to get to where I am today, and there are certainly those who have come to recognise and respect that. Yet many others only perform the courtesies expected of them, even as they express their disapproval behind my back. No small number of them believe that it is only by my father's influence that I hold the position I do."

Anger pulsed through her then, tearing her hands from him and into wild gesticulations. "But that doesn't make any sense, if— if they're judging anyone negatively they should be judging... The Archbishop is the one that broke his own rules, you hardly... We don't choose to be born, how can people think to hold you responsible, it's—"

"Whether the burden of responsibility is a fair one or not," he spoke calmly over her distress, "we are all of us shaped by the legacy our parents leave us. We deny that at our peril, as the whole of Ishgard is soon to learn. But... I cannot deny that it is a relief to hear that these rumours and my confirmation of them truly mean so little to you. I did not know if it would change your perception of me."

She brought a tentative hand to his cheek and he clasped his own over it, holding her there.

"I don't care who your parents are. I mean— I just care..." She exhaled shakily. "You're all that matters."

They were drawing closer again. Breaths deepening, noses brushing together semi-consciously at first and then nuzzling against each other with intent. Were they drawing the moment out on purpose? Her heart was going to burst from wanting.

"I should be the one expressing relief," she murmured amidst the pull.

"And why is that?" he breathed back, lips brushing hers.

"You believed me."

She wasn't sure who crumbled first. She wasn't sure it mattered. But she was sure, at least, that the man kissing her so sweetly was a good one, who had deserved better. And that she trusted him to do his part in steering Ishgard through the aftermath of all the revelations to come.

[potteresque-ire]

Hi I posted an ask regarding your view point on GGDD's safety by people shipping them openly by bus designs, digital hoardings in their country and various other ways. I am not sure if you have already replied because I can't seem to find it. If not, please notify in case you would be interested in posting, there is no pressure or complaints if the answer is not affirmative. Also, I am hoping to read your piece on current issue DD is facing in relation to Nike. I am sure a lot of people enjoy your straight, detailed and analytical thought process and information presentation. A lot of people especially ifans needs to understand the perspective and position an actor or any national level influencer/celebrity is in when they are a citizen of totalitarian regime.

I would love to read, if you decide to write.

Thank you for your blog. It is highly appreciated and welcomed.

Hello Anon! I sincerely apologise ~ my ask box has been very full, and I answer based on time availability (which isn’t much) and “urgency” of the matter (for example, the recent post on Dangai/WoH skipped the line because it’s current). My whim too, occasionally and admittedly; sometimes I’d like to take a breather and talk about something a little more fannish and fun (like window cleaning robots!) Above all, I prefer giving delayed but responsible, or even no answers over irresponsible ones, given some of the subject matter I touch upon. I’ll ... probably have to write up an ask box policy at some point.

Now, my thoughts about Dd’s current situation ... or maybe, my thoughts about the things around it ...

I should explain where my highly disorganised thoughts this time come from first. I’m a Hong Konger by birth, and I grew up at a time when it was still conventional for Hong Kongers to refer themselves as Chinese, following the tradition of referring to the (believed) origin of one’s paternal family as our own origin. I’ve never, however, sworn allegiance to the Chinese government; the two citizenships I’ve ever held are 1) United Kingdom (Hong Kong was still a British crown colony when I was there), and 2) United States.

The distinction between China, the country, and Chinese government, as the country’s rulership, has therefore always been clear to me. You can love, feel a bond with the country, its people and culture and its 5,000 year old history, without having feeling anything with its 71 years-young government with foreign (soviet) roots. To quote Hamilton: Oceans rise, empires fall, and just the central plains of China alone went through a total of 13 recorded dynasties, during which its border waxed and waned, often splitting what is now Chinese territory into multiple countries under different rulership that sometimes split along ethnic lines—China, in that sense, isn’t even historically a country as we define one today; it’s a piece of land in East Asia where different countries have taken over, risen and fallen. And the major ethnic group, Han, which also includes the vast majority of the current political elite, wasn’t always in control. The Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) was famously built by Mongolians; the Qing dynasty (1636–1912), Manchurians. Beijing, the current capital of China, began its illustrious history as The Capital City for the non-Han based, north-of-central-plain dynasties of Liao and Jin. Liao people were believed to be either Mongolic or Tungusic. Jin people were Tungusic, and would eventually become Manchurians. Xinjiang (新疆), meanwhile, was only under the influence of the ancient Chinese empires sporadically, and its formal conquest / incorporation by a Chinese dynasty didn’t happen until ~ 1760, and by the (Manchurian) Qing dynasty. Its late incorporation is also reflected in its name that means, literally, “New Territory”.

What does this all mean? It means: 1) Loving China =/= loving the Chinese Communist Party;  2) Chinese culture =/= Han culture; especially the Han culture infused with “Core Socialist Values” as defined by the Chinese Communist Party; 3) X dynasty’s territory (where X = one of the ancient Chinese dynasties) =/= What has to be People Republic of China’s territory.

And by writing down these three =/=, which I’d argue are simply conclusions from historical facts and logic, I’ve committed an act of subversion in the eyes of the current Chinese government. Remove the “/” in “=/=“, and you’ve got three of the most important talking points of Chinese propaganda.

The sacred, un-violatable rules the Chinese government tells its people.

Why do I mention them? Because the scrutiny, the attack on Dd read familiar to me, and is probably familiar too to all those who’ve kept even a brief eye on Hong Kong and Taiwanese entertainers who work in China. When a topic that violates one of these propaganda points makes news (for example, the HK protest, Hong Kong/Taiwan Independence), entertainers from Hong Kong / Taiwan—anyone who’ve achieved name recognition—are often placed under immediate scrutiny by Chinese netizens to see whether and when they’ll confirm their loyalty towards the Chinese government. The argument is that only those who display absolute loyalty to the Chinese government deserves to earn China’s money, and the main motivation behind this scrutiny, in this case, is mistrust: Hong Kong, after all, is crawling with British loyalists and rioters according to Chinese propaganda, with separatists who’re conspiring with foreign governments to overthrow the Chinese government; the democratic island nation of Taiwan, meanwhile, is supposedly a rogue child who has escaped its mother (China) ’s arms for the past 70+ years—the child who, by the way, shall be brought to their knees (along with into their mother’s arms) by military intervention. Both places, in other words, are serial violators of =/= 1) and 3), and not to be trusted. If their entertainers fail to affirm their loyalty towards the Chinese government, or if the timing of their patriotic display is perceived as off, vicious accusations—similar to those Dd has endured—will fly, and calls for boycott begin. 

Here’s a related observation, while I’m at it ... no one in c-ent is really allowed to keep their political views quiet, even if they’re not particularly well-known. No one can say, politics isn’t for me, it’s too ugly/too complicated/doesn’t fit my image and shove it under the proverbial carpet. Under an authoritarian government, control is exerted via politics, via propaganda that seeps into day-to-day language. It’s an oil slick that taints and swims in even the smallest crevice of life—there’s no where to hide.

And Dd is far more famous than almost all of these HK and Taiwan based entertainers. 表態 — a public announcement of his stance — is the only option left for him when he becomes the centre of a sensitive political issue such as this one. And there’s really only one stance he can take.

In that sense, what happened to Dd isn’t something I’m too worried about—this kind of attack under the guise of a “loyalty check” isn’t new; and the motivation behind the scrutiny of Dd is the safer to-take-down-his-career rather than political mistrust. I believe this storm shall pass soon, as long as his team doesn’t make an unexpected, big mistake. His non-fan fellow country people will probably view him with a more positive light as well: he walked the walk and did what he believed is patriotic — breaking a contract like this is no lip service when in China, performative patriotism is often lip service — reportedly even among the top Chinese Communist Party officials.

If I must find more defence for his stance ... please forgive me, Anon, but I don’t have much more to say than what I said last night, what I said before about China’s access to information—

—because, admittedly, following, talking about this incident is difficult for the Hong Konger in me, even if I’ve expected this kind of incidents from the moment I joined this fandom, even if I’ve expected, as I’ve learned from RL experience, that most people I adore in China will at some point support causes that I deeply disagree with. The online patriotic rally by c-motors and c-turtles under the associated Weibo tag, while impressive and good for Dd, is nonetheless heartbreaking/frightening for me to watch. Why? Because I know this can easily turn into a call to persecute all Hong Kongers involved in the democracy movements sometime in the future. Because I know the rally will probably be as impressive if this has been a call to persecute all Hong Kongers involved in the democracy movements. Frankly, I stopped thinking about Nike as I scrolled through the posts — I was thinking about the now impossibly wide gulf that separates most Chinese and a Hong Konger like myself; I was thinking about why a Gg / Dd performance can trend on Twitter in 10+ countries all over the world but makes almost no noise in Hong Kong or Taiwan, places that should’ve most easily fallen in love with Gg / Dd with their closeness in language and customs. 

As it turns out, the closeness has only driven HK and Taiwan away; the closeness only brings them more insight of the beast—the government that looms over, cast a long shadow over everything that lives under it, including Gg and Dd.

I was reminded of the fact that many young Hong Kongers probably see me as a traitor just for being a turtle — young Hong Kongers who are n>1 generation immigrants from China, who never spend years reconciling the conflicting viewpoints, the even more conflicting emotions when it comes to this ... almost irreconcilable difference now in political beliefs north and south of the China-HK border. Unlike the older generations who often have immigrants/refugees from China for immediate, un-severable family, who often don’t have the option to walk away from the conflicts, to simply point to the other side and call it evil.

And here are my even-more-conflicting emotions: 

While, over the years, I’ve learned to harbour no ill feelings to the vast majority of supporters of pro-CCP causes—I reserve blame for those who conceal the truth, who’re involved in its policy making, or people who live outside the Firewall and should know better (such as every HK entertainer who’ve expressed support)—I’ve also learned, over the same years, to be fully, painfully aware that every endorsement is still an endorsement for the regime to carry on its ways, and the damage is real, is significant even if the endorsers may not know about the true nature of their endorsements. 

A simple thought experiment: the sheer size of China’s population means it can easily control the narrative on English-speaking social media. The Chinese government already has a history of mobilising its people to scale the Great Firewall and spread its propaganda on, for example, Twitter. It has also mobilised fan circles for propaganda purpose. Again, as a thought experiment *only* (ie, SJD!), imagine the Chinese government mobilising Dd’s Weibo supertopic fans to spread misinformation about Xinjiang.

Dd’s supertopic has 5+ million members—all savvy social media users and many skilled in the art of comment control (a collective effort, performed by fans to bury critiques/dissent on message boards); the total number of Uyghurs in Xinjiang is ~12 million, but their communications are heavily scrutinised and they can’t really talk. Just for the sake of argument, we’ll add the ~ 70% pro-democracy HK population to Uyghur’s side: that’s another 5 million, but most of them aren’t good at raging a battle on social media.

Which side will control the narrative in the end?

And so: I understand why Dd’s statement is what it is. I don’t fault him for making it. Still, I can’t in good conscience say to anyone, myself included, that the statement is a personal opinion and doesn’t matter. It matters a lot. His announcement is another stab to the Uyghurs, and the knife is sharp because of Dd’s social influence.

(Today, I saw Dd’s name for the first time in a Hong Kong pro-democracy online news site.)

The statement carried this sentence:

國家尊嚴不容侵犯，堅決維護祖國利益 The dignity of the country is not to be violated; the interest of our motherland is to be resolutely defended. Firstly: it’s character-for-character propaganda language. Secondly: even if we do not consider the labor camps, this is the condition in Xinjiang’s city of Urumqi. Where’s the dignity of the people who’re living there and who’s preventing that from being violated? The interest of the motherland—what kind of motherland answers an allegation of human rights violation with “interest” (利=profit, advantage; 益=benefit)? What kind of motherland has “protects its interest” being synonymous with surveillance and abuse of its own people?

I have a motherland, but it’s not the one in this narrative.

The issues of Xinjiang and the Uyghurs have also become even closer to Hong Kongers since 2019, when the fates of Hong Kongers and the Uyghurs became intricately tied—as dual examples of Chinese government’s human rights violations and indeed, these two populations who previously had very little in common have shown solidarity with each other against all odds. Their connection being this one simple, awful fact: both having what they value most stripped away by the same government—the traditions, religion and culture for the Uyghurs, the promised freedoms and hopes for democracy for Hong Kongers. As an online meme goes: “Today’s Xinjiang; Tomorrow’s Hong Kong” — expressing the fear that Hong Kongers may soon be subjected to the same surveillance as the Uyghurs today, for the same reason of having put up a fight against who they saw as their oppressors (this article offers an objective summary of what led to the 2009 clash between the Uyghurs and the Chinese government, which precipitated the former’s treatment as will-be terrorists today)(Note the role the US played in this.). 

As such, I cannot look away from Xinjiang. As such, I cannot look at our two beautiful stars, Gg and Dd, without also seeing the flag with its blood red looming behind with its own five stars—the biggest of them symbolising the Chinese Communist Party.

How do I reconcile all the feelings? As I said, it’s a constant work-in-progress, possibly a lifelong one. Re: Gg and Dd, that’s what I tell myself at the moment: that my being an i-turtle shall not sway my view or silence me on any sociopolitical issues, that my being a fan of anything, anyone shall not mean any other human life is suddenly worth less to me, or its suffering, something I shall suddenly look away from. The moment this becomes true—that I find myself depreciating human lives, or ignoring the pain of others for the sake of my fannish pursuits—that’s when I must leave my fan identity until I find my discipline (I do understand the lure of a happy fandom bubble, and I’m far from immune to it). I’m a person before I’m a fan.

These are the rules of my world.

我的世界不退讓。

[joonie-beanie]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader x Diavolo

Word Count: 10,061

Preview: The Royals have been bogged down with a busy workload, so you decided to help relieve some of their stress in whatever way you can.

Read as: Barbatos has a thing for rope bondage, and Diavolo is just happy to be involved.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Also! This is a follow-up to Bath Time, and Helping Hands, so if you haven’t read those, I would recommend doing that first!

For as long as you’ve known Barbatos, you’ve assumed that the butler is perfect in every sense of the word. He’s skilled, and handles his tasks without complaint, and in a timely manner. He addresses his duties with a kind smile—never wavering.

Despite his busy schedule, he never shows signs of cracking.

…until today.

You walk into RAD that fateful Friday morning, and discover Barbatos in the student council room—frowning. Now, seeing Barbatos frown is not entirely out of character. You’ve seen him frown in worry, and in concentration. He does have emotions, after all, but…today he just looks stressed.

There are dark circles under his eyes. The way he’s hurriedly searching through papers—a few slipping off the table and onto the floor—is a sign of his current out-of-character state.

Without second thought, you stride into the room and begin picking up the papers on the floor. Barbatos startles ever so slightly when he notices you at his feet—too absorbed in his current task to have heard you approach.

He sighs.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Are you okay?” you respond to his quiet, tired words. There’s genuine concern in your eyes as you press to your full height, and hand the small stack of papers back to him. “I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“It’s been quite a hectic week…or two,” he admits, exhaling in relief as he finally uncovers the report he’d been looking for. “Typically, like students, Lord Diavolo and I are able to rest on the weekends—only dealing with a few, small meetings here or there. But the last two weeks, every day is busy from dawn to dusk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say sincerely. You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Barbatos smiles at the gesture. Then, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he sets the paper in his hand back on the desk, and turns to fully face you. He envelops you in a tender hug—one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other moves to cradle against the back of your head.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this sudden display of affection,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your ear as his cheek nuzzles against your hair. “I didn’t realize how much being unable to see you on Sunday would affect me during the week.”

His admission has your cheeks heating up ever so slightly, and you lift your arms—wrapping them tightly around his middle.

Due to Barbatos and Diavolo’s lack of free time, the two had been forced to cancel their tea time with you the previous weekend. You’d been disappointed, considering you’d gotten so used to ending your week in the company of the two, but there was nothing you could do about it. If they were busy, you’d have to suck it up.

“Will you be free this weekend?” you ask him, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He can see the concern, and longing in your gaze. Apparently, you’ve missed him and his Lord as well.

“I can work around your schedule, since I don’t have much to do. Of course, if you’re both too busy, I’ll understand, but—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead.

“I will double check the schedule and contact you later.” He reaches over and grabs the stack of papers—topped with the report he’d been looking for. As he takes the neat stack into his arms, he turns and flashes you one last smile.

“Thank you for the brief moment of peace. It is greatly appreciated.”

With that, he makes his way out of the student council room with the normal poise and grace he always exhibits. Once alone, you take a deep breath, and hold a hand to your cheek. It’s warm—painted with a light blush.

Really, it’s rare that Barbatos is the one to initiate a show of affection with you. Typically, you’re the one hugging him (although he always reciprocates).

The last time he had initiated skinship was weeks ago, after he’d paid you a visit at the House of Lamentation due to your ailing back.

Memories of that night attempt to push to the forefront of your mind, and you desperately try to shove them away. It’s the middle of the day—you don’t need to be thinking about Barbatos’ hands on your skin, or the way his fingers had felt inside of you…the way he’d looked while his dick was in your mouth…his cute post-orgasm face…

Shaking your head, you smack your red cheeks. You don’t need to be thinking about those types of things during school hours.

Yes, it’s been a few weeks since that fateful day with the royal butler, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind sexually every so often since then. However, you’d gotten bogged down with school work—any of your scarce free time going to the brothers—so despite your longing, and Barbatos’ offer of another massage if you wished, you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Then, of course, once your schedule had opened up, Barbatos’ had narrowed. His duties piled up—filling his days with work—and you’d have felt far too guilty asking him for anything on top of his already busy schedule.

Aside from last Sunday, you’d still managed to maintain your weekly appointment of Sunday evening tea with the butler and Demon Prince, but bringing up sexual favors while sipping on Earl Grey and eating tiny sandwiches hardly seemed appropriate.

So, you’ve accepted that maybe it will be a while until you’re able to inquire about Barbatos’ services again. And while it’s a little disappointing, you don’t intend to push the matter. Barbatos already works so hard, and you don’t want to burden him with your sexual need.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the straps of your backpack, and nod to yourself. While you long for another massage experience from the royal butler, you can live without one. Right now, you just want his schedule to clear up, so you can resume your regular Sunday tea with him and Diavolo. And if that’s all you’re able to receive, at the moment, then you’ll still be satisfied.

Smiling, you finally step out of the student council room and make your way to your next class.

Hours later—as you’re heading back to your room following dinner with the brothers—you feel your DDD vibrate. Curious, you pull out the device and look at the notification lingering on the screen.

[New Text from Barbatos]

Your heart skips a beat—nervous to see the contents. There’s a big possibility that the royals are still busy this weekend, and that they won’t be able to squeeze you in anywhere.

You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking into the message.

Barbatos: I apologize for my late follow-up. It seems that Lord Diavolo and I will not be available for our normal Sunday Tea time again.

Barbatos: However, I am free starting at 7pm on Saturday evening, if you would like to come over. Lord Diavolo will be tied up with a meeting until a bit later, but he expressed interest in joining should the meeting adjourn at an acceptable hour.

Barbatos: I understand if you already have plans, but please let me know if I should expect you.

You’d already promised to have a self-care night with Asmo on Saturday, but honestly—you’re sure that he’ll understand.

You: That works just fine for me! I will be over at 7 tomorrow.

Barbatos responds with a happy sticker, and you find yourself smiling. You can’t wait to see them.

The hours tick by slower than you think possible the following day as you wait for evening to come. 

Due to the addition into your schedule, you and Asmo change your self-care night to a self-care afternoon. Thankfully, Gossiping with the Avatar of Lust--while doing face masks, and sipping on mimosas--definitely helps to pass the time quicker.

The two of you finish up just before dinner, and head down to the dining hall together. You eat merrily with the 7 brothers—making conversation, and listening to their banter. By the time the table is cleared, and everyone’s bellies are full of food, it’s already nearing 6:30.

Hurrying back to your room, you make sure you look presentable. You mess with your hair—trading your shorts and tank top for a knee-length sundress. Not only has the Devildom been heating up lately, but you always try to dress a bit nicer in front of the royals. So, a sundress should be perfect for the occasion.

Throwing your DDD into a small purse Satan had gifted you some time ago, you sling the bag over your shoulder and make your way from your room. You run into Lucifer by the front door, and he surveys you with a knowing look.

“You’re headed to the Demon Lord’s Castle, correct? I’ll walk you part way. I’m leaving to meet someone in town.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping through the front door when he holds it open for you. The two of you then start away from the House of Lamentation, comfortably at each other’s sides.

“How did you know that I’m heading to the Castle?” you ask him as you walk. You don’t recall sharing your plans for the night with any of the brothers. Even when you’d changed the time of your plans with Asmo, and he had inquired, you’d just said that something had come up. (He had begrudgingly accepted that response—too curious for his own good).

“I had a meeting with Barbatos and Diavolo this morning,” he tells you, eyes ahead as he guides you through the crowded streets. “Diavolo was whining about how he hopes his meeting with the planning committee tonight won’t drag on too long, so he can join you and Barbatos before it’s time for you to leave.”

“I mean…how late can the meeting possibly drag?” you question, blinking innocently. There’s no way a meeting will last beyond…10…11pm, right?

“Depending on the matters that need to be discussed, I’ve witnessed the meeting last until 2 in the morning,” he informs you with a shake of his head. “Diavolo hates speaking with the committee more than anything, so I hope he’ll be able to wrap things up in a timely manner.”

“That would be nice,” you say honestly. “It seems like they’ve both been running rampant... Speaking of, how is your workload?”

You grin up at him, a knowing look in your eyes. Lucifer sighs, smoothing a hand through his dark hair.

“My time to sleep is limited, but for once, it seems that I’m not fairing the worst among the three of us. I hope your visit with Barbatos and Diavolo will help them relax a little.”

“I don’t know if I have that type of power, but I hope so too,” you laugh, pausing when Lucifer places his hand atop your hair. He regards you fondly—the two of you standing in the middle of the city street.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, and then steps away. “This is where I leave you. I believe you know the rest of the way, yes?”

You nod, and he raises a hand—bidding you farewell.

“Don’t stay too late. If you need an escort home, text the group chat and one of us will come get you.”

“Will do, Lucifer~,” you drawl, tempted to roll your eyes. They’re always so overprotective of you—it’s not like you always need an escort.

Lucifer flashes you the slightest of glares—lips tugging into a smirk—before he turns and disappears up a side street. Now on your own, you continue up the wide road—taking the familiar path to the castle. You arrive a few minutes later, and when you knock on the grand front door, it only takes a few seconds for Barbatos to pull it open.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, eyes creasing pleasantly as he smiles. You can see the exhaustion beginning to settle into the small lines of his face.

“Of course. I was looking forward to seeing you,” you respond honestly. As he guides you into the castle, you can hear the chatter of distant voices, and assume that Diavolo’s meeting with the committee must have already started.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to prepare the tea yet.”

“No worries!” you say immediately, flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help out if I can, too!”

Barbatos chuckles. “I’d appreciate that.”

Engulfed in a comfortable silence, the two of you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, Barbatos pulls out a kettle, and then moves to fetch the tea. However, when he pulls open the wooden cupboard, he pauses.

Curious, you step up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

The cupboard is entirely empty.

Barbatos places his gloved palms on the counter, his head hanging in defeat, and an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. You stare at him, shocked to see the crack in his professional demeanor.

“The other servants must have grabbed the last of it to serve the guests at the meeting…”

“It’s okay, Barb!!” You say immediately, jumping back and throwing your arms into the air. “We don’t need tea!! It’s not Sunday anyway!”

The butler turns to look at you, and can’t help but laugh at your dorky position.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, raising a hand to cover his face as he releases a few more chuckles. Your cheeks heat up a little, realizing you must look silly, and you drop your arms.

“Besides, I don’t want you to feel obligated to serve me while I’m here! This is supposed to be a break for you, since you’ve been so busy!”

“But if we’re not having tea, then what shall we do?” he questions, tilting his head to the side innocently. You blink, lifting a hand to your chin as you ponder the thought.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you relax?” you smile at him kindly as you speak. “You’ve been working hard, so if there’s anything I can do to ease some of the stress off your shoulders, I’d love to help.”

Barbatos regards you curiously at the offer—like there’s an idea that immediately comes to mind, but he’s not sure if he wants to say it. You assume that perhaps he’ll ask you to help with a chore, or will ask for something like a foot rub. Oh! Or maybe to play a board game.

Instead, he ends up flashing you a small smile. He extends his hand, holding it out to you, and you take it without a second thought. Fingers slotting through your own, he then tugs you from the kitchen and back into the hall—leading you somewhere else.

“There is a hobby I have that helps me to relieve stress. It’s a bit…unorthodox, so if you’re not comfortable with it, then—”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Barb!” you interrupt him, a pout on your lips. “I want to help you unwind, so whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”

He gives your hand a squeeze, an amused look in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with a rebuttal—simply letting you think what you wish.

Silently, he guides you through the long halls. At some point, you pass the entrance to the magnificent bathroom you’d once discovered Diavolo bathing in. Your experience with the aphrodisiac, and Diavolo helping you out on that night feels like a fever dream. The thought of his stupidly large cock, and his hands on your body has you getting warm all over, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of the sinful imagery.

The event had happened months ago, at this point. Since then, you and Diavolo have never spoken on it, and you wonder if he regrets his actions—feeling like perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries with a guest in the heat of the moment.

However, considering he acts friendly and kind to you as always—still offering hugs, and other simple shows of affections—you haven’t bothered confronting him about it. As long as the two of you are on good terms, that’s what matters to you. (Even if you have occasionally fantasized about fitting his cock inside you since then).

“Are you thinking of Lord Diavolo?” Barbatos’ voice drags you out of your thoughts, a knowing look in his eyes as he regards you. You blush, embarrassed at having been read so easily.

“I…I just…I wonder, sometimes, if he solely helped me out of a sense of obligation, or if he enjoyed it as much as I did,” you admit quietly. Barbatos gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve never talked about what happened, so…Agh, I’m sorry—is it weird that I’m talking about this with you? I don’t—”

“It’s not strange, Y/N,” he interrupts you with a shake of his head. “Lord Diavolo and I are quite close. Not to mention, I was there the night you were affected by the bath, remember?”

In that moment, you suddenly recall that yes—Barbatos had been there to see you in all of your needy glory—and you heat up more. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

“While Lord Diavolo may have acted as he did to stop the effects of the aphrodisiac, I assure you he received just as much enjoyment out of your predicament as you did.”

Curious to the meaning of his words, you furrow your brow and stare at him. Barbatos just smiles—giving nothing away. Not until you start angrily pouting, at least. Then, he loosens his lips with a quiet sigh.

“I went to check on My Lord after I saw you return to your room, and when I approached his chambers, I could tell he was…preoccupied with the affliction you had given him.”

Meaning, he had overhead Diavolo jacking off to the thought of you after he’d left you alone in the bathing area to clean yourself up.

Ah.

“Okay, can we stop talking about this before I combust, and die?” you ask, a hint of a whine slipping into your tone. You tug your hand from Barb’s grip to cover your blushing face. He chuckles.

“For someone so lewd, you certainly do get embarrassed easily by your own actions.”

“I’m gonna request that you STOP calling me out like this, thanks,” you shoot back, glaring at him through spread fingers. He breathes a laugh, and you pause in your stride as he suddenly stops in front of a closed door.

Looking around, you realize that you’ve never been to this part of the castle before.

Twisting the handle to the door, Barbatos pushes it open and then ushers you inside. You regard the sizable room curiously.

It looks similar to any other lounge in the castle. The walls are lined with bookshelves and paintings. There are four couches—all placed in large square formation around where a coffee table would typically be. However, there is no coffee table.

Instead, about 8 feet from the ground, there’s a long, thick strip of bamboo. The bamboo is held up by tan colored rope—thick, professional knots secured to either end of the wood, and leading back up to hooks on the ceiling.

In fact, when you look closer. You can see that there are hooks mounted to the ceiling in multiple areas around the room. Not to mention the dozen spirals of rope hanging off hooks near the fireplace.

You swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth.

“You…use rope bondage to relieve stress?”

“Oh? You’re familiar with it?” he questions, stepping across the threshold of the room. He reaches up to grab one of the perfectly kept bundles of rope—trailing his fingers across the soft, red fibers.

You hold your arms shyly in front of you. This is a turn of events which you hadn’t been expecting tonight.

“I’ve always found it to be interesting, and beautiful, in a way,” you admit, purposely leaving out how you find it entirely too arousing as well. Just the thought of Barbatos tying you up has wetness already beginning to gather between your thighs. But, you don’t want to make it awkward—fearing that perhaps Barb doesn’t get any sexual gratification from the activity—so you stay silent about how much it turns you on.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me relieve some of my stress, if this is what is involved?”

Your gaze shifts from the handsome butler, to the rope in his grasp, to the bamboo anchor in the center of the room. You wet your lips, and then smile at him.

“Of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

At your words, Barbatos steps forward—stalking over to where you’re standing just within the ring of couches. His mossy eyes regard you softly. You feel your heart hammering away within your ribs.

“Do you promise you’re saying that sincerely? I don’t want to hurt you, nor push you beyond what you’re comfortable with.”

“I know, Barb,” you tell him softly. You reach your hand out—fingertips skimming over slightly rough fibers of the rope. You’re sure you’ll feel a slight bite when he ties you up, but the thought only serves to heighten your arousal. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want to help. And I trust you. Please don’t worry—this is what I want.”

A pleased look settling on his face, he leans down and presses the briefest of kisses to your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear so.”

Taking a step back, the butler regards you contemplatively.

“I would hate to ruin your dress. And it’s easier to tie with less clothing in the way. Would you mind removing it?”

Your face heats up at the request, but you nod—moving to slip the straps off your shoulders. After all, he’d massaged you all those weeks ago. It’s not like seeing your body is anything new to him.

“Just the dress?”

It’s an innocent question. You want to make his job as easy as possible.

“You—”

“Hey, isn’t this basically just more work for you?” you interrupt him as you shimmy your dress down your torso to the swell of your hips. He chuckles, gaze flitting down to look at your sheer-lace bra. The black color matches your underwear—although the panties aren’t lace, nor see through. (You hadn’t accidentally wanted to flash a demon (or at least, reveal too much) in town if the wind decided to flip your dress up on your journey over).

“It does take effort on my part, but I don’t consider it to be “work”,” he tells you. “And yes, just your dress is fine. Your undergarments won’t get in the way.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice soft. You finish stepping out of your dress—discarding it onto one of the nearby couches. Barb looks over your form appreciatively, and you seriously wish you could learn how to control your blushes.

“It’s important that you stretch, first. I don’t want you hurting your back again.”

“What? Not interested in giving me any more massages?” you tease, eyes sparkling at him. He breathes a laugh.

“I never said that.”

As you bend over—touching your toes, and stretching out your tight muscles, Barbatos moves across the room to grab more spools of rope. The entire time, his gaze lingers on you—taking note of your level of flexibility.

He’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. The cogs in his brain start turning as he silently debates which position he should tie you in.

After a few minutes of stretching, it seems that Barbatos is finally satisfied to begin.

“This may take some time to tie. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or the rope feels too tight—please let me know.”

“I will, Barb.”

With that, the demon butler is quick to get to work. He instructs you to lift your arms, and you do so obediently—watching him as he wraps the rope around your torso, just beneath your bust. He stops every so often to check the firmness of his ties—making sure that he can slip a finger between the rope and your skin. He wants it to be loose enough that it won’t impede your blood flow, but tight enough that you’ll stay bound once he attempts to suspend you.

Before long, Barbatos has dressed you with a chess harness—your clothed tits pressing against the lacy fabric of your bra as the ties above, below, and between your breasts squeeze your mounds and push them outwards.

Satisfied with his work, he nods his head and takes a step away.

“Could you please sit on the floor, and spread your legs?”

His request reminds you of the growing pool of arousal in your nether region, but you comply nonetheless.

Sitting on the hardwood floor, you drop your arms to your sides and spread your legs. As you do so, the butler walks over to the fireplace. Just above the mantle is a hook—a strand of rope securely weaved around it. As Barbatos works on loosening the thick, hemp rope, you trace it’s path across the ceiling, and realize it’s the rope currently controlling the height of the bamboo anchor above you.

As the demon unfurls the rope from around the hook, the solid strip of bamboo moves closer to the ground. Soon, it’s only a few feet from the floor.

Satisfied with its new height—at least for the time being—Barbatos loosely wraps the rope back around the hook and then returns to your side.  He kneels behind you, and you gasp when his fingers tug at the knot of rope between your shoulder blades.

“Too tight?” he questions, reaching to snag another bundle of red rope from the couch. You shake your head.

“Nope, just right.”

He hums considerately at your comment, sounding a little amused.

You remain silent as he drags more rope against your back—threading it through the bulk of your chest harness. Each pass of the soft fabric has goosebumps rising on your skin, and your gaze glances down between your still spread legs.

Hopefully since your panties are black, he won’t be able to see the wet spot that has formed…

You breathe shakily when Barbatos hefts the rope over the bamboo bar—giving it a tug. You feel the chest harness hug your tits ever tighter at the action, and you bite your lip to hold back from groaning. Honestly, if he touched your clit right now, you’re sure he could bring you to climax with little effort…

However, since you’re still attempting to be considerate of the fact that this is his stress relief, you don’t say anything. You remain carefully silent as he secures you to the anchor via the chest harness—an additional length of rope winding around your waist. He ties it to the bamboo as well—hoping to take some of the pressure off of your chest, seeing as he doesn’t want to bruise your ribs.

Once that’s taken care of, he moves in front of you. There are two more lengths of rope in his grasp.

For the first time in a while, Barbatos takes a moment to regard you. He’s been so caught up in his work, that aside from little inquiries as to your comfort, he hasn’t gotten a chance to really check in on you.

What he finds before him is a little startling.

Your cheeks are painted red—eyes blown wide, and lips slightly swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in order to try and control your reactions. As his gaze rakes down, glossing over your chest, he notes that your breathing is quick--your nipples taut against the thin cups of your bra. A tell-tale sign of your arousal.

A handsome grin tugs at his lips.

Reaching down, he squeezes the meat of your inner thigh with one hand, stretching your leg open wider. He lifts his other hand to his mouth—effortlessly tugging the white glove off with his teeth—before he’s dragging two of his digits gently up the crotch of your panties.

“My, I guess I shouldn’t have worried about being selfish with my request,” he chuckles. You pout at him angrily, eyes glancing away.

“Don’t tease me…I was trying to be polite…”

The pout on your lips fades away the moment his naked palm cups your cheek. Gently, he guides you to look at him—his face just inches from yours.

“I apologize for teasing,” he says. “I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying yourself beyond what I expected.”

To emphasize his words, he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. Immediately you’re moaning, hands reaching forward to fist in his shirt—keeping him close to you. Your mouths slot together—slow, languid kisses being exchanged between you.

“Would you like to continue?” he eventually mumbles, and when your eyelashes flutter open, you find him staring at you—a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been present before.

“Yes, please.”

 Sitting back, Barbatos tugs off his other glove and immediately resumes his work.

He starts at your ankles—wrapping the rope around you a few times, before tossing it over the bamboo--this time on the outside of the sturdy hemp, which is keeping the light-weight wood anchored to the ceiling. He repeats the action on your other leg, mirroring his previous actions, and then moves to make a tie just above your knee with a new spool.

This time, there’s an additional command.

“Lift your arms up.”

You do so, watching him with bated breath as he once again threads the rope across the slab of wood above you. This time, however, he pulls the rope tight—hiking your leg as high as it will go in combination with the ankle ties keeping your legs spread wide.

Once the rope is taut, he ties it around your wrists—letting you keep your arms bent. Your hand instinctively moves to hold onto the rope once the knot is finished, and you give it an experimental tug downward. The additional tension causes your legs to part even more—revealing all you have to offer.

“Are you, ah, fond of having girls spread wide like this for you?” you ask, a little breathless as you watch him grab one final coil of the rope. This time he moves to secure it around your upper thighs, right near your pelvis. He threads it beneath the rope around your waist—tugging it tight, and truly making sure your legs are spread as much as possible. You actually start to feel a dull strain as he makes the final tie—mirroring it on your other leg, per usual.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responds, smiling as he pulls on the rope in a few places—making small adjustments to the tension in certain ties in order to ensure that your weight will be evenly distributed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this, and I can confidently say that you’re making it far more entertaining than I expected.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that.”

Chuckling, he presses to his feet and moves past you. The butler makes his way to the fireplace, once more taking hold of the rope tied above it.

“I’m going to suspend you now,” he informs you, and your pussy clenches at his words. “If you feel pain, tell me and we will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” you breathe, licking your lips. In the next moment, you feel the rope around you dig into your skin ever so slightly—your ass inching off of the ground as Barbatos effortlessly moves the bamboo anchor higher into the air.

Within seconds—you're fully suspended, your body about 3 feet from the floor. The rope bites at your flesh, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you that you’re tied up, in the air, and at Barbatos’ mercy.

Since you don’t express any discontent, Barbatos re-secures the rope around the hook, and then makes his way to the center of the room. He takes his time walking around you—surveying his work. His fingers trail across your sensitive skin, making you gasp. Your legs jump against the bindings in reaction to his touches, but your limbs barely move--his skillful ties keeping you obediently held in the position he has chosen for you.

“Barb…,” you whine, not knowing how much more of this you can take. You’ve been horny since the moment you’d stepped foot into the room, and you’re sure at least an hour has passed since he began tying you—if not more. Your panties are practically soaked. You need some type of relief, and soon, or you honestly think you’ll explode.

Barbatos steps in front of you, two fingers hooking beneath your chin and angling your head up to look at him. He smiles.

“Is there a problem?”

There’s a mirthful glint in his eye. It’s clear he’s feeling more playful now that he’s in his element.

“I…please touch me.”

“I thought earlier you expressed worry in me doing “extra work”? It certainly sounds like you’re asking me to exert myself with that request.”

“Barb, please,” you whine, struggling against the rope as you attempt to lean up and kiss him. There’s no way he can deny you after all of this—not when you’re in such a state. “Please. I need you.”

Your begging sounds like music to his ears, and he gives in a little—leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the sensation.

“How would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…I want your cock, this time,” you say honestly, mumbling the words embarrassedly against him. You feel bad asking. After your previous escapade, you’d gotten the feeling that Barbatos was more comfortable in pleasing others, rather than focusing on himself. After all, despite having gotten hard, he had never asked to have sex with you. He’d been content with getting you off on his fingers, and likely would have let himself remain hard without solace if you hadn’t offered to help him in return.

Barbatos pauses at your request.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable,” you quickly say, understanding painted in your eyes as you regard him. “I just…have been thinking about the possibility of having you inside of me, since last time, so—”

“If I am what you want, then I shall give you what you ask,” he interrupts, leaning in to steal another tender kiss. A quiet moan escapes you.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering otherwise.”

He cups your cheeks, peppering you with kisses, and then steps back. You watch him with rapt attention as he fiddles with his belt—working to free his cock from it’s confines. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s already hard—straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Luckily, he’s skilled with his hands. It only takes a few seconds until his length is free—his slacks and the boxer briefs beneath them resting just below his pelvis.

“We should have taken these off, if you desired this outcome,” he comments, finger looping beneath the crotch of your panties. You pout at him, but don’t bother retorting. Right now, the only thing on your mind is Barbatos putting his cock inside of you and fucking you until you cum.

Noting your hungry stare, Barbatos doesn’t bother asking permission before he moves your panties to the side, revealing your slick womanhood. Grasping his length, he guides the tip of his cock between your folds—wetting himself with your arousal. When he catches your clit, you openly moan—body flexing against the ropes holding you in place.

Barbatos can’t help but smile.

“Always so needy.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a heated groan—the demon butler sheathing himself into your heat without warning. Your sopping walls allow him to glide in easily, and the sudden stretch has your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, Barb,” you breathe his name, fixing him with the most pitiful face you can manage. You need him to move—now.

He’s more than happy to comply.

Barbatos rocks his hips back and forth gently, fucking in and out of you with care as he assures that you’re okay for him to move despite the abrupt intrusion. He feels your walls clench around him—seeking more—and he takes a deep breath at the sensation. You feel so good.

Gripping your waist, he thrusts into you with fervor. His speed increases, a blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze shifts between your blissful face, and your greedy pussy. In all his years, he’s never seen someone take his cock so beautifully.

Quick pants slipping past your lips, you instinctively tug at the rope wrapped around your wrists—accidentally spreading your legs wider as he fucks you. You can feel the strain on your thigh muscles, but right now, it’s the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way Barbatos’ cock is dragging inside of you—hitting you in all the right places.

“Please touch my clit,” you gasp, sensing your impending orgasm. You feel bad, being so close already, but you can’t help it. Barbatos’ cock throbs as he realizes how quickly you’re coming unraveled thanks to him. At this rate, he won’t last very long either.

Always happy to serve, the butler removes one hand from your waist and presses his thumb into your clit. The swift, side to side motion against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you choking on a moan—your head lolling backwards.

“Oh fuck,” you bite, the muscles in your torso tensing. Barbatos can feel your pussy tightening around him, and he clenches his jaw. Keeping his rhythm, it’s only another minute until you’re crying out his name—body spasming against the bindings as you reach the apex of your pleasure. Your pussy milks around his cock, constricting so tightly that a curse actually falls from the demon’s lips.

With a strained groan, he pulls himself from inside of you—his seed spurting against your used pussy, with a few stray droplets painting your thighs.

You’re just about to whine at the sudden loss of him when the door to the room creaks open. Immediately, you’re ejected from the bliss of your orgasm—heart hammering against your ribs and eyes flying open as you turn to see who has discovered you and Barbatos in such a compromising state.

“I actually managed to get the committee to end the meeting early, and went in search of the two of you,” the Demon Prince himself speaks, stepping inside. “When I discovered our typical spot empty, and then noticed the lack of tea in the kitchen cupboards, I thought I’d better check here. Seems I was right to.”

Diavolo chuckles as the door clicks closed behind him. He reaches up to loosen his tie, his infamous red coat nowhere to be found.

“My Lord,” Barbatos speaks, bowing. You glance down and notice that the butler has already tucked himself back into his pants—looking perfect as usual. The only hint of his recently experienced bliss is a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead, and a dust of blush on his cheeks.

Oh, and the cum that’s leaking down your skin.

The Demon Prince smiles pleasantly at his butler before his heavy golden gaze shifts to you. Instantly, you’re feeling warm all over—embarrassed beyond belief to be seen by Diavolo in such a lewd state.

Your little fling in the bath with him is one thing, but being hoisted mid-air, legs spread wide, with nowhere to hide yourself is another.

“Diav—”

“Impeccable work, as always, Barbatos,” Diavolo interrupts you. He steps into the center of the room, reaching forward to grip the strands of rope parting your breasts. He gives the harness an appreciative tug, eliciting a gasp from you. His eyes sparkle at the sound.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“I see you were a little zealous today,” he continues, eyes falling to your used pussy. Your breath catches—gaze widening in surprise as Diavolo drags his finger through a stripe of Barbatos’ cum. Behind the Prince, the butler dips his head.

“Y/N requested it of me. I would be a fool to have said no.”

“Indeed,” Diavolo chuckles, his attention never leaving you. His large hands roam across your legs—skimming over the rope where it digs into the soft flesh of your thighs. There’s an appreciative glint in his gaze as he surveys your body—beautiful and helpless thanks to Barbatos’ rope work.

“You know, Y/N,” he begins after a minute, his fingertips trailing up the length of your arms, and making you shiver. He leans down to your eye level, smiling at you handsomely. “I was a little worried, following the incident with the aphrodisiac, that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries. However, following recent events, I’m wondering if it’s not that a line was crossed, but perhaps that it’s me you’re not interested in.”

You shift your gaze to Barbatos, wondering if he had told Diavolo the outcome of the massage he’d given you a few weeks prior, but his face reveals nothing. He’s back to being the perfect butler in the presence of his Lord.

 “Lord Diavolo, t-that’s—,” you swallow the lump in your throat, arousal flaring in your gut when Diavolo presses a finger beneath your chin, turning your attention back to him. “That’s not it at all. I promise.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow, waiting for you to explain. You take a shaky breath, muscles flexing beneath the bindings as your post-orgasm high begins to fade, making the bite of the rope more obvious.

“I…have wanted you—to have you, ever since that night. I just…didn’t have the guts to inquire about the possibility…I was hoping maybe you would approach me instead, and when it didn’t happen, I assumed the window of opportunity had closed.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, gently skimming his thumb across the warm flesh. “You are more than welcome to ask anything of me.”

“I want you, then. Now,” you breath, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly as you stare at him. Your words have his golden eyes darkening with hunger.

The months worth of unspoken desire fills the space between your bodies--igniting a flame in Diavolo’s blood.

“Say it again,” he commands. You strain against the bindings, wishing you could touch him.

“I want you, Lord Diavolo. Please fuck me.”

In the next beat, Diavolo is on your lips. He licks into your mouth, swallowing all of your needy little whines and moans. One of his hands moves to tangle in your hair—trapping your lips against his own—while the other finds purchase on your breast.

He slips a finger beneath the lace cup, and tugs it down without hesitation—freeing the previously covered mound. You gasp around his tongue, thighs flexing. You can feel arousal beginning to dribble down your cunt, pussy once again aching to be used and filled.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo rumbles, finally pulling back to give you air. The butler appears at the edge of your vision as you struggle to breathe. He places a hand over his heart.

“Adjust the height of the suspension, and then come here. It’s not fair of me to make you watch. Come and join.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Barbatos disappears from your field of vision, and a few moments later, you squirm as you feel yourself being hoisted higher into the air. The sensation stops when your pussy is at the same height as Diavolo’s growing bulge.

“I can’t be mad at the two of you for enjoying yourselves without me, when it acts as such good preparation,” Diavolo chuckles, two of his fingers slipping between your glistening folds. They push into your heat with little resistance, so the Prince adds a third. You feel a stretch, but it’s far from painful—a quiet moan sneaking past your lips.

He watches you with arousal swimming in his golden irises.

Leaning in to lap against the unmarred skin of your neck, Diavolo pumps his fingers in and out of you. Wet sounds fill the room along with your breathy whines, and the minute Barbatos steps up behind you—moving his hands to fondle your breasts—you let go of any remaining decency.

You throw your head back, body shaking as the two pleasure you. Groans fall from your lips, hips bucking against Diavolo’s hand. You crave him, desperate to feel your pussy stretched around his monstrous cock.

“Please,” you beg, barely able to get the word out. Diavolo shushes you with a hot breath against your neck—canines nipping at your flesh.

“Be patient,” he tells you. “One more.”

He momentarily removes his fingers from inside you before pushing back in—a fourth joining the others this time. The sensation steals your breath away—body thrashing against the bindings. You’re so stupidly horny that you don’t even care if it hurts. You need Diavolo inside of you.

“You must trust Lord Diavolo, Y/N,” Barbatos pipes up. You can feel his breath on your ear—his mouth moving to rest on the side of your neck that Diavolo isn’t currently assaulting with his lips, teeth and tongue. To accentuate his words, he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers. Your pussy clenches around the Demon Prince’s digits.

“He’s only doing this so not to hurt you.”

“I know, but—,” Diavolo cuts off your whining with a rough bite against the junction of your shoulder. You gasp at the pain, writhing, and once more he’s rewarded with your pussy gripping his fingers so deliciously. The Demon Prince’s cock throbs at the sensation, craving to be inside of you, but he knows he can’t take you as easily as others might. The last thing he wants is to break you.

…as fun as that idea may be.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises you, tongue lapping over the indentation of his teeth. A bit of blood pools in the shallow divots—the tangy red liquid making him groan deep within his chest. He pumps his fingers in and out of you for what feels like ages, continuing until there’s no resistance.

Then, finally, his digits leave you with an embarrassing squelch. You mourn the loss with a needy whine, eyes peeling open to stare at him. However, when you see Diavolo messing with his slacks—his cock springing free and standing tall against his abdomen just as you had remembered it—your protest ceases.

Instead, you’re left swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth—cunt throbbing as Diavolo presses himself back between your legs. Barbatos is by no means small with regard to dick size, but Diavolo makes taking the butler seem like child’s play.

“Remember to breathe,” The Prince tells you, tracing his length between your folds. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, and despite his warning, you feel your breath catch. Even four fingers are barely enough to prepare you to take him.

“Breathe,” Barbatos whispers against your neck, his hands moving to settle just beneath your breasts. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, and you finally suck in a shaky breath of air. Diavolo allows you a moment to ground yourself before he moves once more—managing to fully slide the head of his dick in, along with a few inches of shaft.

You see stars.

“Fuck!” your entire body shakes, pain and arousal mingling in a dangerous combination. Your chest heaves, knuckles turning white with how tightly you’re gripping the rope binding your wrists. And yet, you can’t take your eyes off the sight of Diavolo’s cock, and the way it disappears inside of you. You don’t dare look away.

Hands gripping your waist, Diavolo takes a deep breath in through his nose, and then cants his hips forward. The rest of his length stuffs inside of you—stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth—and your mind goes white.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

For a frightening second, Diavolo worries that he has injured you.

“Y/N—”

“Please please please please move!” you cry, chest heaving. You struggle against the bindings, breaking off into a desperate sob. The Demon Prince and his butler share a surprised look. Then, Diavolo is grinning, ever so slowly rocking his hips into you. Each movement assaults you with a new wave of pleasure.

“You didn’t tell me that she gets like this,” Diavolo remarks, glancing to his long-time friend. Barbatos shakes his head, his hands once more settling on your breasts. When the butler flicks his thumbs against your nipples, a muscle clenches in Diavolo’s jaw—your pussy constricting around him.

“I had no idea it was possible,” Barbatos responds, but you don’t hear their conversation. You can’t tear your gaze from the spot where Diavolo’s cock vanishes between your walls. You’ve never been so full before—so stretched--right at your breaking point.

It feels so good.

“Y/N,” Diavolo speaks your name tenderly, drawing you from your state of desperation. Your blown-out eyes turn up to him. He cups your cheek, brushing over the damp tear tracks on your skin. “What are your safe words?”

“S…Stoplight colors,” you tell him, and he nods. Leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Use them if you need to.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feeling better about your safety, Diavolo once more grips your waist, and begins fucking into your pussy with quick, smooth strokes. Each drag of his cock inside of you has you moaning—arousal rapidly building in the pit of your stomach. A part of you hopes that you’ll last long enough to cum with the Demon Prince, but when Barbatos settles his mouth against your neck—sucking at a particularly sensitive patch of flesh—you reach your climax without warning.

A cry tears from your throat. Your body spasms, pussy milking around Diavolo’s cock and hugging him so firmly that he actually snarls at the sensation. However, he doesn’t bother reprimanding you for the unprompted orgasm. No, instead he waits just long enough to allow the height of your pleasure to subside, before he begins snapping his hips into you with abandon.

Your lips part in a silent scream, Diavolo fucking you hard enough to make your tits bounce despite the upright position. As you struggle to maintain any sense of coherency, Barbatos hugs you tightly from behind, whispering quiet praises against your skin. It’s truly the only thing keeping you ground, at the moment.

“I can feel you getting tight again,” Diavolo remarks, the slightest growl in his voice, even as he chuckles. “Are you going to cum with me, Y/N?”

You shake your head violently. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

You’re convinced that another orgasm will kill you.

Diavolo glances past your shoulder, to Barbatos. The butler nods his head. Without speaking a word, Barbatos knows his Lord’s request.

Pressing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder, Barbatos lowers one of his hands between your spread legs. Two of his fingers find your clit, and you choke down a sob. You desperately attempt to convince the royals that you’re unable to cum a third time, but the way your walls continue to contract around Diavolo’s cock says otherwise.

“Cum with me, and then you can rest,” Diavolo speaks, leaning in to capture your lips. He can taste your salty tears through the kiss.

“P-please,” you struggle to breathe, blurry eyes settling on the Demon Prince as he sits back—snapping his cock inside of you particularly hard. “Please.”

“Please what?” Diavolo asks, golden eyes soaking in the sight of you absolutely falling apart for him.

“Please…,” you repeat, voice trailing off. You’ve been so adamant about your inability to orgasm again, but now—with Diavolo thrusting into you, and Barbatos’ fingers working at your clit—you’re once again on the edge of release. You sob, the sound broken.

“Please let me cum.”

Diavolo grins handsomely.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

And you’re helpless to obey, your body spasming as your third and final orgasm of the night tears through you. Your chest heaves—struggling to take in air as Diavolo fucks you through your pleasure—chasing his own bliss.

Thankfully, he comes only a few seconds behind you—seating his length fully inside of you, and stuffing you to the brim as he spills his seed between your sopping walls. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room.

You fade out of consciousness for a moment.

“You did so well, taking Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos whispers into your hair, bringing you back into reality. He presses a soft kiss to your head. You whimper at his words, exhausted, and craving more praise and comfort.

Knowing that you need to be released from the suspension, Diavolo finally pulls his softening cock from inside of you. Immediately, his cum is slipping from your used heat—dripping down your pussy, and even onto the floor at your feet.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo speaks, taking a step back. The butler nods, swiftly moving to unravel the spool of rope secured above the mantle. Soon, you find yourself on the floor, both Diavolo and Barbatos working to undo the many intricate knots and ties.

It takes a few minutes—you whining and begging for affection the entire time—but finally the two free you from your bindings. As you move your limbs around, you can feel blood rushing back into certain areas of your body.

You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. For many reasons.

“You did beautifully,” Diavolo whispers as he scoops you into his arms. He moves to settle on the couch, cradling you in his lap. He brushes a few stray hands of hair out of your face, smiling when you reach up and cup his cheeks—tugging him into a kiss.

“I’m seeing many new sides of you today,” he remarks with a chuckle. You lean back, tiredly pouting at him.

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been fully tied up, suspended, and fucked by both a Demon Prince, and his butler, so.”

“That would explain it.”

He grins wider, a fond look in his eyes as he dips down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he does so Barbatos kneels at your side. There’s a pleasant smile on his face, his now-gloved hands gingerly trailing against your legs—dipping into the shallow marks left by the rope.

“How are you feeling?” he questions. His voice is tender, full of concern.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sore, and tired, but…I feel good.” You extend your arm—fingertips trailing against his jaw. Barbatos leans into the feeling, cupping your hand with his own. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me. Even though you may have exerted yourselves more, rather than relaxing tonight, like I was hoping you would do…”

“I can’t speak for Barbatos, but personally, I feel much better now,” Diavolo pipes up. The butler nods in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Yes, I agree. I feel quite relaxed.”

You roll your eyes at them, breathing a laugh.

“If you say so.”

The royals share a laugh as well.

“You need to rehydrate. Shall I fetch us some beverages?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Barbatos. It’s unfortunate we’re out of tea.”

The butler presses to his feet, bowing minutely. “It is. I will be sure to restock the pantry soon.”

He turns, heading towards the door, but your voice stops him.

“Wait--,” you speak, noting a clock on the wall nearby. It’s already past 11. “—It’s getting late. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know you still have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I would think that Lucifer and his brothers will be concerned, should you return home in your current state,” Barbatos comments, and you pause, glancing down at yourself. You’re covered in rope markings all over your body, not to mention the hickies and bite marks now littering your neck. On top of that, you’re still not even sure if you can properly move on your own, let alone walk.

“I…”

“I was going to ask you to stay with us,” Diavolo pipes up, smiling at you. “If you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’d prefer to have you close tonight.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you can’t deny how appealing it sounds—spending the night in Diavolo’s arms. Especially considering how he’d just ruined you.

“Okay,” you concede.

“Good!”

You gasp as Diavolo presses to his feet, still securely holding you in his arms. “In that case, please bring the beverages to my chambers, Barbatos.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The butler then disappears from the room. Diavolo follows him out, but not before tossing a handily available blanket atop your naked form. Your grip at the soft fabric, pouting as you watch your cute dress get left behind on the messy, rope covered floor.

“My dress…”

“Barbatos will likely return and clean up before the night ends. I’m sure it will be returned to you by morning,” Diavolo reassures you. You curl your hand into the dark fabric of his shirt, glancing up at him.

“That’s still more work for him…”

“You need to stop worrying about us,” he scolds you, giving you a light squeeze. You knock your forehead against his chest.

“It’s hard. I want you both to stop being so busy.”

“Soon,” he reassures you with a chuckle, and you feel his lips press into the crown of your hair. “Then we’ll go back to having Sunday tea.”

Perfect.

That night, you pass out tucked against Diavolo’s broad chest, before Barbatos ever appears with the drinks. At some point, a wet cloth drags between your legs, and a straw is placed between your lips, but you’re too exhausted to remember anything more than that. All you know is that when you wake up the next morning, Diavolo is gone, your bladder is full, and there’s a note on the nightstand addressed to you.

It’s Barbatos’ handwriting.

Y/N,

Lord Diavolo would like to apologize for being unable to keep you company this morning. We promise to make it up to you at a later time.

Your dress, along with vitamins, and other health supplements that will help you should you be ailing from the excitement of last night, are at the foot of the bed.

Blinking, you look down and realize that indeed your dress is folded neatly at your feet--a small gift bag beside it. But there’s no way you’ll need such medicine, right?

Slowly, you press to your feet, and immediately groan. Yep, everything is sore. You’ve never felt so achy all over.

Lucifer is here for a meeting. He will walk you home at 9am, once it is finished. Please meet him at the front doors.

If there’s anything else you need, please let myself, or Lord Diavolo know.

- Barbatos

You note that your DDD has been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the note.

Clicking the phone screen to life—you pause.

It’s already 8:50.

“Shit!”

You rush to prepare yourself—dressing haphazardly, and running through the halls of the castle in order to meet Lucifer on time. You arrive at the front doors to find him waiting for you. He cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your current outfit. You’re adorning the dress you’d worn the day before, but beneath it, you’re also wearing a white turtleneck.

How curious.

“…did you enjoy your stay?”

There’s an amused look on his face—one that tells you he won’t be fooled by whatever excuse you decide to try and come up with. So, you settle for giving him an honest response.

“I did.”

And you can’t wait until your next one.

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) | Ch.7(4) | Ch.7(5) | Ch.8(1) | Ch.8(2) | Ch.8(3) | Ch.9(1) | Ch.9(2) | Ch.9(3) | Ch.9(4) | Ch.10(1) | Ch.10(2) | Ch.10(3) | Ch.10(4) | Ch.10(5) |

Ch.10: The Two-Tails (6)

Nothing happens. 

    And Naruto and his retinue wake up to Sai pacing the room and no news about anything. A calm, quiet night with nothing suspicious in sight. 

    Somehow this makes Naruto hopeful that the Two-Tails is innocent, although his guards shake their heads and look confused about this growing calm environment. Shino and Ino take their time as they get ready, making sure that their surveillance doesn't show anything out of the ordinary. Sai only lets his guard drop when his teammates give him the green light to do so.

Naruto takes his time with his morning meditation and lays his chakra as thin as possible around himself. The whole process is faster now, and his control grows with each passing day, but the task is tedious.

He has made himself hyper aware of whatever touches his chakra as a means to make the time he spends doing this more tolerable, which is why he makes sure there is nothing threatening around them when he comes to his senses in their room. 

Shino brings him a plate of food the moment Naruto finishes his practice. He had thought his concentration had grown stronger as they made their way to this place, as it seemed that he wouldn’t catch neither conversation nor major movements around him. 

And yes, he was better at tuning out things in his close vicinity. But most of it just came down to his guards not wanting to interrupt his meditation. 

“You guys know you can talk to me or whatever to make me eat.”

Shino sits again and the last of his food keeps disappearing behind his high-collared jacket. “The lord’s meditation is important.”

“Yeah, sure, but I also have to get better at catching people getting close to me, right?”

“Why?” asks Sai, his question directed at Naruto yet his whole body turned to the window, his plate in hand, “we would never let an enemy get close to the lord.”

“And your meditation is important, my lord,” Ino adds. 

“You are… not wrong,” Naruto stares at Ino, trying to gauge her disposition to explain what he wants to say. But she seems as adamant as the other to let him meditate without trouble. 

“Lord Jiraiya has always said that meditation is one of the best things you can do for your body, my lord,” Ino continues, her eyes bright and full of passion, “if our part is protecting you then please allow us that privilege.”

Naruto thinks for a whole second that this is a joke. Or not a joke, but goodwill pulled to the extreme. Until Ino keeps staring at him with a serious face and no one else seems to want to add to her words. Naruto shakes his head and can’t help the snort that leaves his mouth as the realization hits him.

They really care about him. 

•····························•····························•

Naruto stares off into the distance as the Two-Tails falls into another long discussion regarding the current situation with the Four-Tails. His chakra surrounds him and the room they are in, a task that keeps him from zoning out too much.

    He can feel Gaara’s eyes on him every now and then, but they can’t do anything without raising the suspicion of the other Beast Tamers present, so Naruto keeps his head down. 

    “Wouldn’t you agree, Nine-Tails?” 

    The Two-Tails and the Four-Tails talk at length, but they make sure to bring into the conversation either Naruto or Gaara after a long bout. A mix of interest in their opinions and wanting to find them slacking off, Naruto thinks. 

    But he’s listening. If there is something he has learned to do exceptionally well throughout his years as clan leader is zone out but just enough. Let your mind wander but still catch everything that’s being said. 

“Sure,” Naruto answers, “though I’m more of the mind of searching for them, you know.”

The Two-Tails stares and the Four-Tails scoffs. “Now?” he mocks, “even if we began searching now, I doubt we could find anything after months have passed, don’t you think?”

Naruto tries to keep himself from being an asshole. That mainly entails him keeping quiet most of the time, but when he’s pushed like this. Not even his father could fault him, right?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was facing an attack that forcefully tampered with my seal, as you are well aware. What were you doing, though? Aside from clinging to life, I mean.”

    The Four-Tails smirks, his canines showing through. His wrinkled face contorts and a coughing fit follows. The Two-Tails gives Naruto a look, as if he somehow triggered the condition on the old man.

    “So you are of the mind to eliminate the enemy?” The Two-Tails asks.

    The Four-Tails’ guard brings a glass of water to the old man, who grabs it with unsteady hands. 

    “Of course I am.”

    “And yet you closed off your whole clan when we could have made a counterattack.”

    “Excuse me? A counterattack with whom? Your seal was settling down and this old man was allegedly dead!”

    The Two-Tails frowns, slightly taken aback. “Well, you were available, weren’t you?”

    “I was down for a while, you know that.”

    “Yeah,” she drags the word, and her suspicion drips from her tone, "though one would argue the Nine-Tails would be enough to take care of such a nuisance."

"If I had been unscathed then maybe, if our enemy didn't have in their repertoire making us go haywire and unable to control our Beasts then even more so, but that's not the case, is it?" 

Her eyes squint, and Naruto realizes she's still trying to find fault in them. To find who's in it with the Uchiha, or whatever enemy is out there. 

It's a flinch. A disturbance in his laid out chakra he barely notices. A prick that makes him glance to the Four-Tails. And his heart is gripped by surprise. 

His guard is under an illusion. Precisely cast and barely noticeable. And if not for his surge of chakra right now Naruto would be none the wiser.

As would be all the other Beast Tamers, it seems.

"Who's that," he growls. 

The Four-Tails keeps on letting his lungs out and the other Beast Tamers look from him to Naruto. 

"The guard's under an illusion."

Sai takes out his short sword and stands between his lord and the Four-Tails.

"Nine-Tails!" Starts the Two-Tails, but her own guard stands her ground and whispers in agreement with Naruto's statement.

The Four-Tails guard does nothing aside from keeping his hands on the old man. Their eyes are locked and Naruto rises from his chair and throws a small dagger towards his direction.

"I said who are you!" He roars and aside from the old man still doubled over and the guard fretting over him, everyone else stands in attention, ready to fight. 

The guard's cloak rustles and as soon as the Four-Tails coughing starts to subside, he raises and stares back at Naruto.

"My lord!" Warns Sai, but Naruto has long kept his own eyes away from the guard.

"Don't look him in the eyes!" He orders, and since no one says anything else he believes they are all on the same page. "You fucking bastard." 

The guard does nothing and the Four-Tails just keeps on working on his breathing. 

"And you had the guts to come and throw complaints our way? You fucking old man."

"His eyes are red," informs Sai. Low enough for only Naruto to hear. "Just like the ones Shikamaru showed us."

"Working with an Uchiha while we are trying to do away with them, huh? The fucking nerve."

"Like you are one to talk," croaks the Four-Tails and Naruto has to keep himself from looking back with murderous intent. “All cuddled up in your compound leaving us all to fend for ourselves, huh?”

“Is that what you kept telling yourself when you accepted their help? I guess death looming over your ass made you a groveling mess.”

    “You insolent-” the Four-Tails’ cough interrupts him and Naruto lets his red chakra cover his body.

    “Whatever, you’re not leaving this place alive.”

    “Nine-Tails!” the Two-Tails stops mid-movement, as she tries to put her thoughts in order, but the One-Tail’s sand is covering the floor and the chakra of the Nine-Tails is sending wave after wave of heat.

    The Four-Tails is working with the enemy. That should be enough, right?

    “Get under cover!”

    “Lady Yugito!”

    The screams surround her and she lets her own chakra surge forward, a barrier that protects her from the Nine-Tails heated chakra. Her eyes search for her guard, knowing that he won’t be able to withstand this surge of power without her protecting him. 

    “Isshin, come here!”

    Naruto sends wave after wave of energy towards the Four-Tails but the guard seems to have been counter attacking them just fine.

    He wants to get up and personal, but knowing that looking the man in the eyes is enough to put him out of commission keeps him rooted where he is. 

    It doesn’t matter whether he is up here or in front of his face, the end result will be the same. His chakra reserves will outweigh them both and Naruto has the time to wait. The chakra around him forms and two tails rustle behind his back.

    A red claw flies to the Four-Tails and the Two-Tails’ scream fills the room the next second.

    Her body doubles over her guard and Naruto can’t help but feel dread in his stomach. 

    “Kankuro don’t look him in the eye either!”

    Naruto hears the guard curse out loud and smirks. Yeah, what an asshole. The steady outpour of chakra gives him a third tail and Naruto accumulates chakra in front of his mouth before sending a blast that sends the Four-Tails and his guard outside. 

    Now they won’t have to worry about collapsing infrastructure.  

    Naruto keeps his eyes on the two men below him, two little people gathering themselves down there. “Hey, Two-Tails, you with me or against me?” 

    She stands at his question, her hands leaving the neck of her guard after finding a pulse. “With you, is he staying back?” she asks, motioning towards Gaara, who stands in between the rubble, his sand surrounding him dancing in the air as it keeps him safe.

    “He is.”

    “Can you take Isshin with you? People will come soon after, you can hand him to them, as soon as my people see me fighting along the Nine-Tails they’ll know who’s the enemy.”

     Gaara doesn’t move, but he nods and his sand envelops the man and drags him towards him. “I understand.”

    “Tell everyone not to look the bastard in the eyes.”

    Naruto jumps before Gaara answers, and the Two-Tails follows after him. Her own chakra transforming into a gigantic claw that drags along the walls. 

    “Just keep your eyes away from the guard.” Naruto steals a last glance at their position before keeping his eyes on the ground. 

    “Roger that.”

    The guard sends their way a fire technique Naruto deflects with a chakra claw. 

    “Oh, you’re gonna need more than that, little guard!”

    The Two-Tails crouches and her chakra looks more and more like an enormous and monstrous cat. Naruto’s own chakra output is ready to let out another tail. 

    “I wonder when he’ll ditch the old man. If his Beast gets free-”

    “Doesn’t matter,” the Two-Tails assures, “he’s a dying man anyways.”

    Her chakra dense and thick, her whole body more like a cat’s than her own. She sprints forward and Naruto lets out a cackle.

    He breathes out, concentrates on his own body and chakra. His muscles tight and contracted. Control over everything. Nothing like that time his seal was tampered with.

    The fourth tail springs forward, the Beast’s chakra surrounds him and tingles all over his body, and the skeleton of the Beast forms. He prefers this form over the one where his body is fully engulfed in dense chakra. He doesn’t know how the Uchiha’s technique will affect his chakra-beast form, seeing as he won’t have as much control over his eyes. 

    He doesn’t have time to put it to the test.

    But it doesn’t matter, because this is enough. 

    The skeleton’s weight is enough to crack the ground it touches and Naruto has to keep himself from jumping and pounding down on the enemy. He runs, the skeleton moving around him and wrecking its surroundings. Another fire technique hits him, but this time he doesn’t need to deflect it, it bounces off his body. 

    The adrenaline pumps inside his body and Naruto revels in this chance he’s been given. “Please, allow me to show you what we’re capable of!”

[matrixaffiliate]

Surreptitious

New Story! FFN and AO3

Lily doesn't think it will be that hard to hide she's been dating James for two years, and friends with him for five, but when she and James end up working together as temps every day, she finds out how intertwined with her boyfriend she really is. 

@thisismegz shared this Tumblr post with me (thank you, darling!) from @women-inthe-sequel and it felt so very Jily =) So obviously, I had to write it for Jilytober! Enjoy!

Surreptitious

Lily chucked her bag down on the table in a rage. The fact that the order had been misdelivered was not her fault, but that didn't change she'd been thrown under the bus and blamed for it, not that this wasn't the first time she'd been framed for something that went wrong. It also didn't change that she'd been fired over it either.

Her phone buzzed and she sighed as she saw James' picture on her phone.

"Feel like cheering me up?"

"Always," James laughed. "What can I do for you today, Evans?"

"Slowly pull out the bowels of Rosier and Yaxley with a white-hot hook?" Lily fell down onto her bed and kicked off her shoes.

"Vicious," James' chuckle was throaty and Lily wished he was with her where she could feel it rumble through his chest.

"Well, they managed to finally get me fired, so it feels justified at the moment."

"They what?!" All laughter and teasing had gone out of his voice.

"They blamed another misdelivery on me, and I found out they'd been filing complaints against me that I didn't know about, and I swear that Riddle was in on it with them because he showed me documents stating that he'd notified me of those complaints and strikes against me, but I know he didn't." Lily took a deep breath to try and calm down, "None of that matters now though, they got me out and that was what they wanted. They won."

"No!" James almost shouted. "I'll talk to Dad, I'm sure his solicitor will take your case! We'll sue them for everything they own!"

Lily smiled, knowing James was on her side always made her feel better.

"No, they aren't worth it. I'll report them, sure, but I'm not going to sue them over it."

"Lils, look," he went to say more, but Lily cut him off.

"No, James. I'm not going to waste my mental energy on them anymore. I'm going to take a day to calm down and then I'm going to get on to trying to find a new job."

James let out a long breath. "Love, I know you don't want to waste the mental energy on them, but wrong is wrong. Would you let me just mention it to Dad?"

Lily rolled to her side and shifted her phone, "I guess that would be fine, but I'm not personally taking them to small claims, alright?"

"Right," James sounded relieved. "I promise you won't be involved at all."

"Thanks, darling," Lily felt her stomach grumble and she groaned. "Needing a new job aside, I need to find something to eat."

"I'll call Mum, I'm sure she'll be happy to cheer you up with food."

Lily's stomach grumbled again, "Are you sure that she wouldn't mind cooking for us?"

James laughed, "Lils, my dear mother always tells me I'm not home often enough, and then immediately asks when I'm going to settle down and give her grandchildren."

Lily grinned, "See she never says anything about you settling down to me."

"Yes, because she wants to keep you around. Trust me, if she didn't like you, she'd be doing everything in her power to push you to marry me tomorrow." James paused, "So am I calling Mum or not?"

Lily pushed up off her bed. "Yeah, call your parents and ask if she'd make me some daal makhani to drown my sorrows in."

"You can count on it," James' smile was evident in his voice as they disconnected the call, and Lily internally admitted that she was looking forward to seeing it after the nightmare of a day she'd endured.

So, when Lily pulled up to the Potters' large home thirty minutes later, she couldn't stop the excitement bubbling in her chest, and even with the awful day, she smiled as she pushed open their front door.

"James?"

"You're here!" James came nearly running around the corner into the entryway, sweeping her into a tight embrace.

Lily took in a deep breath as she held him close. The smell of James mixed with the smells coming from Mia's kitchen were pulling all of the stress out of her and replacing it with warmth and happiness.

"Come eat while it's still hot!" Mia called from the kitchen.

Lily laughed and kicked off her shoes before taking James' hand to walk into the kitchen.

"Laadli," Mia hugged her, "Eat up, and there are jalebis too. A little sugar will make everything better."

"Thank you, Mia," Lily held on to this wonderful woman who had stepped in when her mum had passed on.

The family dinner was exactly what she needed. Lily finally felt calm, and while she still didn't know what she was going to do about a new job, she at least felt like life was going to get better, for no other reason than she was surrounded by these wonderful people.

"James," Monty handed him his plate as James cleared the table. "The new client at the agency finalized their paperwork for their trial run."

"You're taking on another company at the temp agency?" Lily asked.

James nodded, "Yep, which means 90 days of me pretending I'm not a part-owner."

Lily laughed. After they'd finished university, Monty brought James and Sirius on to the temp agency he started decades ago, but part of the deal was they would be guinea pigs to each new client to be sure the real temps would be treated well. Since they'd just signed a company a month ago and Sirius was currently being their guinea pig, James would need to take this new one.

"What does this company do?" Mia picked up her glass and drained it before handing it to Lily as she helped James clear the table.

"They're a paint manufacturer," Monty said, "But they want the temps for their customer service department."

"You told them they'd only get one, right Dad?" James looked over from the kitchen sink.

"I did," Monty nodded, "they asked me to try my best to get them two."

Mia looked at Lily for a moment and then smiled. "You should be the second temp!"

It took Lily a full ten seconds to realize what Mia was implying, but James beat her to a response as he shut off the water.

"No, Mum, Lily's an industrial engineer who deserves to find a job that will actually utilize her and not pin her to arranging low-level deliveries. She doesn't need to be working customer service while I evaluate this client."

"And why not, chotu?" Mia turned on him. "This way she gets a paycheck while she looks for something new and when she does find it, she can leave; no one expects a temp to stay forever."

"Mum," James' hand went straight for his hair.

"Mia, that's really sweet of you," Lily cut in but then Mia turned her mom-eyes on her.

"Laadli," she cupped Lily's face in her hands, "This will be good for you, give you something to think about other than that awful place that didn't appreciate your work. And you'd be with James so you'd have fun. Learn from an old woman, Lily, have more fun in your life."

Looking into Mia's wise umber eyes and feeling her small warm palms on her cheeks, Lily felt almost like she was under a magic spell.

"Well, if Monty thinks it's alright."

Mia held her eyes and kept her face in her hands. "Of course, it's alright, Monty will see to it."

A part of Lily's brain was sure that Mia was exercising some force of will over her, but there was something so comforting about it that she decided to ignore how much this felt like a magic spell.

"Then, I think it'd be fine. It'd give me time to find a position that I really like instead of settling for the first thing that pops up."

"There, see," Mia pulled her hands away from Lily's face with a smile, "We can always find blessings in disguise if we're willing to look for them."

"Lils," James stepped between her and his mum. "If you want to do this, we can make it happen, but don't feel pressured into it. You don't have to."

Mia tsked loudly behind him.

Lily gave him a small smile. "If you're alright with it, then it would really help me out."

James' returning smile lit up his face. "Eh, I guess I can handle it. At least I'll have someone to talk to, yeah?"

"And I suppose I could handle having to talk to you every day." She smirked up at him.

"Well then, that's settled." Monty chuckled, "James, I'll put you in charge of the paperwork and arrangements for all of this."

James shot his dad a grin, "I'll have it all settled by tomorrow evening. You're looking at the two newest temps for Royal Paint."

It wasn't a week later that Lily was pulling up to her new place of work - at least until she could find a new position in her field if expertise.

She saw James step out of his car and she waved him over. There was one thing that she wanted to clarify with him before they started this.

"Morning Evans," James moved to kiss her but she put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

"Does this place know you're one of the owners of the temp agency?"

James shook his head, "No, everything Sirius and I do is on the back end except for this, so no one knows we aren't real temps when we show up."

Lily nodded, "Alright, in that case, I think it would be a good idea for us not to broadcast our relationship while we're here for these three months."

"Really?"

"I don't want to cause any drama, and Sirius isn't available to switch with you if they have a problem with us being together. I think it would make everything easier and safer if we kept our relationship between us."

James sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Please, James," Lily smiled up at him. "I promise when we aren't here, I'll be the best girlfriend in the world."

James laughed down at her and laced his fingers with hers. "You already are but if it'll make you happy, then sure, while we're working with this client, we're just two temps, not a couple."

"Thank you," Lily looked around the parking lot and upon finding it empty, quickly pressed up and kissed him. "I suppose we should get this show on the road then, eh?"

"Yeah," James stole one more kiss, "We don't want to be late on our first day."

Lily and James walked into the grey cement brick building and were welcomed by the receptionist.

"Hi, I'm Amy, you must be our new temps."

"That's us," James nodded and Lily forced her down chuckle as she watched James start scanning the office. He may be wearing the badge of temp for the next three months, but James would never be able to stop being the shrewd businessman that helped his dad's company thrive.

"Just a minute and I'll fetch Scott, he's our manager." She clicked a couple of times on her computer before grabbing her desk phone. "Scott, they're here." She set the phone down and turned back to Lily and James with a happy smile.

"He'll be right out."

Not a moment later a man came walking around the corner.

"Welcome! Welcome to your new home away from home! Welcome to Royal Paint!"

"Thank you," James stepped forward and shook Scott's hand. "I'm James Potter."

"And I'm Lily Evans," Lily stepped forward as she watched James turn to introduce her. That was her first hint that hiding their relationship was going to be harder than she initially thought.

"James and Lily!" Scott shook her hand. "I can't wait to get to know you. I'm Scott and I hope you'll view me as your mentor and friend while you're here."

Lily nearly balked at the difference between Scott and Riddle. At least Scott didn't seem to be out to fire her from the get-go.

"Thank you," she pulled her bag higher up on her shoulder and smiled up at James.

"Look at you two," Scott stepped back and looked at the two of them, "You look like you could be on the cover of one of my wife's romance books. Don't you think so, Amy?" He turned to the receptionist.

Amy laughed, "You're a hopeless romantic, Scott."

"And I'm usually right about this sort of thing."

Lily felt something akin to panic gripping her stomach. "I'm sure that Mr. Potter and I can keep things professional."

James covered his laugh with a forced clearing of his throat and Lily fought the urge to glare at him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Scott laughed. "Royal Paint was started by a husband and wife team. We have no policy against workplace relationships. But let's get the two of you settled in and then you can get to know one another before you make decisions about first dates and whatnot."

He turned and led them down the corridor.

"Mr. Potter?" James whispered as he smirked down at her.

"I panicked!" Lily glared at him.

Before James could comment further, Scott had led them into the next room.

"This will be your launching pad!" Then he gestured to the two women sitting at desks that faced each other. "And these lovelies are the crew that will take you into the stars! Gladys and Arabella, this is James Potter, and here is Lily Evans. James, Lily, this is Gladys Vance and Arabella Figg."

The women smiled at them but before either could say anything, Scott had moved to the single desk to the left of Gladys and Arabella's workstations.

"This is where the two of you will be set up. I'm sorry but we couldn't get a second desk in here soon enough. You'll only need to share for a wee bit, but we'll get you your own desks in a jiffy. The two computers seem to fit alright, though, so shouldn't be a problem. Let's get you logged into those computers and Gladys and Arabella will train you up on what you need to do."

"Scott, slow down, you're spinning like a top." Gladys chuckled. "We'll take care of these two, you go do the manager things you do."

"Off you go," Arabella stood and made a shooing motion with her hands.

"I'll leave you in their capable hands then," Scott bowed awkwardly. "And if you need anything at all just step right into my office. My door is always open."

"Thank you, Scott." James chuckled.

Arabella shooed Scott again and he saluted before stepping out of the room.

"Well, you survived our fearless leader," Arabella chuckled. "We run things a bit more down to earth here in customer service."

"He's very enthusiastic, isn't he?" Lily laughed.

"Don't you two look cute standing like that?" Gladys smiled at them.

Lily looked over and realized she and James had gravitated towards each other, standing so close they were nearly touching.

"Oh, sorry," she stepped away from James, "I didn't mean to crowd you."

James' hand shot to his hair, "No problem, barely noticed."

Gladys and Arabella shared a long look but didn't say anything more. They helped James and Lily get logged into their computers and showed them how to respond to online inquiries from the website and how to find the answers. The job was so simple that by lunch Lily felt not only like she knew what she was doing, but that she'd been doing it for ages.

"Did the two of you bring lunch?" Gladys came to stand at their desk. "Because either way, Arabella and I are taking you out."

Lily laughed, "I brought a can of soup, but I have a hunch it'll keep till tomorrow."

"Are you sure about that?" James laughed, "Storing things in metal, who knows what could happen."

Lily laughed in spite of herself but stopped just before she went to playfully shove him.

"You two are cute," Arabella grinned at them. "Did either of you ever watch the American version of The Office? You two could be Jim and Pam."

"Oh, yes!" Glady exclaimed, "Lily's got red hair like Pam, and James instead of Jim!"

Lily looked at James and laughed, "I don't suppose you want to be called Jim?"

James rolled his eyes, "Do you know I threaten my brother with roasting him over a low fire for it?"

Lily grinned, she did know. "Oh, but it could be fun, couldn't it?"

James adjusted his glasses and leant across the desk, "Depends on your definition of the word fun, Lilian."

"Do you know that isn't my name?" Lily rolled her eyes. He did know.

"And now you know that Jim isn't mine," James countered with a smirk.

"I like them better than Jim and Pam," Arabella's voice brought Lily back to the present and she silently kicked herself for slipping into the banter she and James had built their relationship on.

Trying to avoid the habits that had formed from two years of dating plus another three years of friendship before that might just prove impossible.

And that premonition proved to be exactly right. She couldn't stop herself from the unconscious part of her brain that reached across their desk to touch his hand or his thigh. She could never keep herself from standing directly next to him. And she definitely couldn't stop the way her eyes would seek him out naturally. It was just so much a part of her to be connected to James.

How did she ever think she could hide this?

"Hey," she whispered across the desk three weeks after they'd started with Royal Paint. "I have to take my car in to have it serviced tonight, can you give me a ride tomorrow?"

"Of course, do you need a ride back from the service station too?" James nodded.

"I was going to request an Uber but if you want, we can make a night of it."

"Sure," James grinned at her. "We could make something at yours and watch a film or something."

"Sounds perfect," Lily moved to grab his hand but caught herself, opting to take a sticky note from the stack instead.

"How is the job hunt going?" James smirked at her.

Lily rolled her eyes at his smirk even as she grinned at him.

"I had a firm call for an interview and my references."

"That's amazing!" James' whisper went loud and Lily giggled.

"Riveting conversation over there dears?" Gladys smiled over at them.

"Just wondering when you're going to invite The Pips over and finally admit that your last name is really Knight." James smiled over at Gladys and Arabella.

Lily trained her gaze back on her computer and the mind-numbing work of answering customer questions.

"I'll be at yours at half six to go drop your car," James whispered and knocked her foot with his.

She looked up to see that smile that still made her stomach flutter.

"Thanks."

But James bringing her to work the next morning ended up being more of a to-do than Lily had expected it to be.

"Well, hello there!" Arabella stepped out of her car as Lily and James stepped out of his.

"Hi Arabella," Lily tried not to groan.

"Is your car alright dear?" Arabella looked as pleased as one of her cats might look had it caught a mouse.

"It just needed to be serviced. James was nice enough to bring me to work this morning."

Arabella nodded understandingly but her smile seemed to grow wider. "What a nice thing to do."

"What was a nice thing to do?" Scott walked up behind Arabella and Lily thought she might die.

"Lily's car needed to be serviced and James was kind enough to bring her to work today."

"A proper gentleman," Scott walked up and patted James on the back. "Well done, my boy!"

"Lily ought to take him to lunch to thank him," Arabella looked at Scott, "Don't you agree? They've proven they're hard workers, I think they could do with a long lunch today."

"Capital idea, Arabella! Yes!" He turned to James and Lily, "I agree, take a long lunch the both of you!"

Lily looked at James who was putting a great deal of effort into not laughing.

"Alright, then," Lily looked at Scott and Arabella helplessly.

Clearly, she'd need to rethink her original plan of hiding their relationship, seeing as everyone wanted them to have one.

"This whole thing has gone pear-shaped!" Lily huffed as she got into James' car for their enforced lunch date.

"Hey," James leant over and pulled her in for a slow kiss. "It'll be fine." He smiled as he pulled away. "You're going to go to your interview next week and they're going to wonder how they've ever managed without you. Then they'll hire you, and you'll be working for an amazing firm before you know it."

Lily kissed him again and let the warmth that had always been James ease some of the stress away.

"You know," James put the car in gear. "We could play this to our advantage."

"Play what to our advantage?" Lily fiddled with the radio.

"We could be the new office romance." James knocked her hand away from the radio as she tried to skip over a song he liked that she didn't.

"The new office romance?"

"Sure," James slapped her hand away again. "We could stop trying to hide the way that we're practically an old married couple, to quote my mum, and just be us."

"You're mum calls us an old married couple?" Lily laughed.

"Of course, she does."

"Why, of course?"

"Because she's my mum," James shrugged.

Lily grinned as the idea started to form in her mind. "We could sneak around like we did our last week of university."

James looked over at her with a smirk. "That poor custodian, I'm pretty sure we nearly gave him a heart attack."

Lily giggled, "I think you're right; this could be fun."

"Yes, and then I can stop smacking myself every time I go to touch you as well." James reached over and grabbed her hand.

"I know right? It's like I'm in love with you or something." She teased.

James parked in front of the restaurant and leant over to kiss her again. "That makes one of us, then."

Lily smacked his chest and pulled away but James caught her around the neck and kissed her passionately.

"I love you," he murmured as he slowed their pace.

"You better," Lily laughed and pulled back. "So, we're doing this? We're going to be Royal Paint's new office romance?"

"Yeah, let's have a bit of fun."

And they did. Lily didn't stop herself from making faces at him across their desk when she got bored. She didn't stop herself from asking James about their plans for the weekend. She didn't stop herself from walking out of the office with him after work. She didn't panic when Gladys mentioned how sweet it was that she was hitting it off so well with James. When Scott stepped in to tell them he'd managed to secure another desk for them if they wanted it, she agreed with James' insistence that they didn't need it.

The one thing Lily did still stop herself from bringing up at work when they were around their coworkers was her efforts to find a real job, and how things were going for James in his real job. Just because he was playing temp didn't mean he didn't still have his real job and everything that went with helping his dad run the temp agency.

She was trying to discreetly check her email on her phone to see if the company that had interviewed her and called all three of her references had made a decision on hiring her yet or not when she was spooked by James swearing under his breath.

Lily glanced quickly over at Arabella and Gladys before whispering to James.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a problem at the office. One of our temps went rogue." James' hands went to his hair before they immediately dropped to his phone to type.

"Is it going to be alright?" Lily leant closer.

"If Sirius and I get there in the next hour then probably." He looked up at her. "I've got to go. Do you want me to make something up for you to get Scott to let you out early too?"

Lily shook her head. "I don't want to make him suspicious of why you're leaving and then not let you go. I'll stay and finish the workday."

James grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before coming around the desk to kiss her. "Thank you, I'll text you once this is resolved."

Lily kissed him once more before he slipped out the door.

"They're already kissing goodbye," Arabella commented with a grin.

"They're meant to be," Gladys laughed, "Where is your prince off to?"

Lily rolled her eyes at them, "His brother needs him, he's going to see if Scott will let him out early."

"Oh, Scott is a pushover for that sort of thing. He probably would have let you go too if you'd asked." Arabella pulled a cat hair off her jumper.

"I wouldn't have been much help," Lily shrugged.

"So, how's having a new boyfriend been?" Gladys pulled her coffee cup to her lips and smirked at Lily.

"I'm rather enjoying it," Lily laughed and turned from her computer. It was becoming apparent that the two wanted to talk more than they wanted to work right now, probably because James wasn't there.

"I can imagine," Arabella winked at her. "Have you spent much time together over the last month and a half?"

"I guess we have," Lily tried to think of what sort of pace a regular couple would take, a couple that didn't have the history she and James had.

They'd been at odds in their first year of university, but when everything had happened with Severus and the Marauders at the end of first year, well, Lily realized that she'd been dead wrong about who her friends were. Thankfully, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were more than happy to put that year behind them and welcome her into their friendship. She and James had been friends for the last three years of their time at university; his parents were who she relied on when her mum passed away, joining her dad on the other side and leaving her with just Petunia and Vernon for living family members; James introduced her to Marlene and Emmeline and Mary and Bridget; the Marauders and everyone attached to them had become her family.

It was the last day of exams their final year at university that James had found her alone and somehow the two of them had finally stopped dancing around their feelings for one another and snogged the daylights out of each other.

They'd been inseparable for the last two years.

But how did one act like they hadn't been in love with the man they were with for years?

"You look unsure? Is everything alright?" Arabella frowned at her and Lily silently cursed herself for not having better control over her emotions playing out over her face.

"Oh, er, yes, I just, I, er, I'm waiting on an email." Lily reasoned she was a temp; she probably didn't need to hide that she was looking for something permanent; it was just James' position that she needed to keep to herself.

"A good email or a bad one?"

"I suppose I'm hoping it's a good one, but it could be a bad one."

Gladys narrowed her gaze. "Lily, what sort of email is this?"

"The sort of email that could get me a position with an engineering firm," Lily watched the two women carefully and sighed in relief when they both cried out exuberantly.

"That's wonderful," Arabella laughed, "but won't you miss working with James?"

"I'll miss it," Lily nodded because truthfully, she would miss it.

Working with James this way had been exactly what she needed after the fiasco at her last position. It had been healing to be with him day in and day out. It had made her realize how much she needed him, how much she relied on him.

"Well, most people don't work with their partners; you'd be joining the ranks of the rest of us." Gladys chuckled. "I love my husband, but I wouldn't work with him for all the money in the world. We weren't meant to be business partners."

"Amen, to that," Arabella rolled her eyes.

It was a couple of hours later that James texted her that he and Sirius had sorted out whatever had happened with the rogue temp. He followed that text up with the sort of response that helped Lily see why Mia called them an old married couple.

James: Meet me at mine, I'm bringing dinner.

Lily smiled down at her phone and then jumped when Gladys' voice spooked her.

"Email or boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend," Lily chuckled. "He managed to sort out whatever was happening with his brother."

"And…"

"We're having dinner tonight," Lily looked up at the clock and sighed; it was still an hour before she could leave.

Gladys looked over at Arabella and something passed between the two.

"Pack up your things, deary, Arabella and I are going to bully Scott into letting you leave early."

"No, that's alright," Lily shook her head, "I can wait."

Arabella laughed, "No isn't an option I'm afraid. We're rather fond of you and James there, so I think we're going to get our way and get you on your way."

"Really, it's fine," Lily protested again.

"Oh stop with the propriety and have a little fun, Lily." Gladys stood up. "Let's get you off to that boy of yours."

What could she do? It was as if these two were in cahoots with Mia. Lily packed up her things and tried to hide behind her two bullies as they approached Scott's office.

"Scott, dear Scott," Gladys stuck her head in Scott's office.

Scott looked up and laughed, "Oh dear, the both of you, what am I giving in to today?"

"What a dear he is," Gladys grinned at Arabella before turning back to Scott. "You're going to tell this sweet child to get herself off to her new boyfriend right now."

Scott glanced back at Lily and winked at her.

"I suppose you'll let the entire office know how hard it was to wear me down?"

"Of course," Arabella nodded. "We had to make a fuss about what a wonderful employee she's been these six weeks."

"And we had to point out that it has been slow all day and that it definitely won't pick up to where Arabella and I can't handle in the next hour," Gladys added.

"And don't forget how we're all invested in Lily and James," Scott added absently as he looked at an email on his computer.

"Oh yes, that too," Arabella laughed.

Scott looked back up and blinked, "Lily? Why are you still here?"

Lily shook her head and smiled, "I'm on my way out."

"Give my best to James," Scott called out to her as she walked out the door and to her car.

Lily texted James that she had been forced out early and then drove to his flat. For a moment she thought she saw Monty and Mia in their car on her way, but she was past them before she had a chance to do a double-take.

Walking up to James' flat felt like home. The knowledge that he'd be on the other side of the door when she opened it wrapped her in a blanket of comforting domesticity. Lily wondered if maybe she should forgo renewing her lease when it was up in a couple of months.

She pushed open the door but stopped dead in the doorway.

The lights were turned off, but there were battery votives on the floor making a pathway towards the kitchen.

"James…?"

He didn't answer and Lily resisted the urge in her to turn on the lights. She blamed it on Gladys' and Arabella's and Mia's insistence that she have a little fun. Instead, Lily kicked off her shoes and set down her bag to follow the flickering lights guiding her further into the flat.

Every light was off and the curtains pulled tight over the windows, making the floor look like it was glowing with the little votive lights lined against it. Lily stepped into the kitchen and paused. The lights led to a chair, sitting dead center on the kitchen floor.

"I am not doing a seance with you, Potter," Lily looked around. She nearly screamed when her phone vibrated and sounded in her pocket.

James: Please just sit down Evans

It was followed by at least twenty eye-roll emojis.

Lily rolled her eyes and texted back.

Lily: Fine, but I will kill you if this is some sort of prank…

She included five devil emojis before hitting send and cautiously sitting down in the chair.

"Now what?" Lily called out and looked around.

James stepped quietly into the kitchen and grinned at her.

"You always suspect me," he leant against the doorway, his hand running through his hair.

Lily forced her eyes back to his face. "You've given me plenty of reasons to do so."

James laughed, "You know, I've been thinking about how nice it's been to see you every day, but now I'm wondering what I was thinking."

She rolled her eyes but laughed with him.

"I was actually thinking the same thing after you left today."

James' smile went soft and he moved slowly, purposefully towards her.

"Good," his voice was that low rumble that made Lily want to pull him flush against her.

Then James came to kneel in front of her and Lily suddenly couldn't breathe.

"What do you think we make sure we see each other every day, even after we finish our stint with Royal Paint?"

"James," she laughed, but it came out a breathless sound.

"Lils, will you marry me?" He slid a ring out of his pocket and held it out to her.

"Of course!" Lily couldn't stop laughing, even as James pressed up to kiss her, lifting her from the chair and lifting her feet off the floor.

"We should turn on the lights," James laughed with her.

"Why?" Lily finally started to get a hold of her laughter and was trying to move their kissing a little further forward.

"Mum and Dad should be here any minute. Dad's parents took him and mum out to dinner when he asked her to marry him. I told them we could do dinner, but that I wasn't asking you at a restaurant."

"Oh! I saw them on my way over!" Lily laughed. "Well, I guess we can keep this going when we get back."

James hummed as he kissed her again, "And we can talk about what we're going to do with this darn temp job."

Lily's phone buzzed in her back pocket and she jumped when James reached into her pocket and pulled it free to hand to her.

"I don't think we'll have to worry about it," Lily grinned down at her phone as she looked at the screen.

"Yeah?" James looked down at her phone.

"I got the position!" Lily laughed. "I'm engaged and I got my dream job on the same day!"

"Well," James kissed her, "While we're discussing good news, I have one more thing to add."

"What?"

"Dad and Sirius and I have been working on a surprise for you; we've managed to get Riddle and his cronies into a world of trouble that I don't think they'll be getting out of anytime soon." James' grin was wicked.

Lily narrowed her gaze, "There was no rouge temp, was there?"

"Sirius and I were the rogue temps, we bailed at work and went to make sure our plan went exactly as we wanted it. I doubt that your old place of employment will still have a license to practice business for much longer."

"I love you," Lily linked her arms around his neck and kissed him.

James pulled back to look down at her, one of his hands coming up to trace along her cheek before tangling in her hair.

"I love you too," and he kissed her.

[prorevenge]

Neighbours refused to be quiet, so I played the long game and made them move out

A few years ago I got hired at a job in a big city with expensive rent. I slept on my brother's couch for a few months while I struggled to find a place, but eventually found someone in an old building who wanted to get out of their rental agreement. The apartment was pretty close to work and in a nice area, so I took it, almost too good to be true...

It didn't take long for me to realize I made a big mistake. The building was old, and the walls were made of plaster. Any sound reverberated like crazy, I could hear people cough and sneeze like they were standing in my place. What's worse, I shared one of these thin walls with my neighbours, who were absolutely fucking insane. They just would not shut up. I would hear a man and woman argue constantly, often until 2 or 3 in the morning. And by arguing I mean literally screaming and shouting and throwing things against the wall. When they weren't arguing they were always just LOUD, shouting and whining at each other like little kids constantly. Pretty much the quintessential toxic, obnoxious couple. And the shit they would argue about was so stupid! I remember hearing an argument about who's turn it was to steal shampoo from the drug store. One time the boyfriend decided to yell "THE BIBLE SAYS WHAT THE BIBLE SAYS" over and over again for some reason. Almost every day it would be something different and uniquely annoying.

The first real incident happened when I was woken up by screaming and banging against my wall at 1am. I did what I usually did (blasted Kenny G through my speakers at the wall until they shut up), but this time it didn't work. The banging got louder so I stopped the music, but then it got worse and sounded like a fight. It was hard to describe, but it sounded like the woman was getting beaten up. At this point I was more concerned than mad so I called my superintendent, who told me to call the police (not the US). The police came, the neighbours told them everything was fine, the police left, it was quiet, I went back to bed.

Literally the next night I am woken up again at 1am by my neighbours having another argument. This time I heard a BOOM, then the woman say "oh my god" in an weird voice, and then banging and what sounds like someone being strangled. The noises were freaky and way more concerning than even last time so I called the police again. The police came, the neighbours told them everything was fine again, the police left again, and it was quiet again, but this time the police called me back and basically told me I was an idiot for wasting their time. They said there was no evidence of any fight and both neighbours denied anything even happened. Even the superintendent said that no one else on the floor complained and intimated that I was starting to become a nuisance. I decided from this point forward I was going to go full Spielberg with video evidence.

The noise was bad for the next 6 months, and I would get woken up at least once a week after midnight by yelling and screaming. I made a few written complaints, a few videos as evidence, and sent them to the property manager. There was enough to serve them an eviction notice and go to the landlord/tenant board, but somehow the property manager fucked up the date for the hearing and it never actually took place. Thankfully the noise stopped anyway (for now...), so I assumed the neighbours finally got the message and would be quiet from now on. I didn't fight for another hearing because the eviction notice gave the neighbours an opportunity to be quiet, which they sort of did.

As an aside, the video evidence I gathered during this time was BEAUTIFUL. I was pleasantly surprised that my phone was very good at picking up their voices. It got to the point where I would get excited when I was woken up in the middle of the night, because I would run out into the hallway and film their door and room number as the noise blasted out and echoed down the hall. I gathered some damning, unambiguous evidence, pure gold, and it was all timestamped at around midnight or 1am. But because the hearing got cancelled I didn't get to present my evidence (at least not yet...)

For a few months, everything was reasonably ok. They were still loud as fuck during the day. and there were a few times after 11pm on weeknights where I went to their door and asked them to keep it down, but other than that things were mostly better, and I was starting to be able to relax in my place for once. Yet again it was too good to be true...

One day around 2:30 in the afternoon I start hearing this weird, high-pitched screeching coming from my neighbours place. And it doesn't stop for hours. I'm sitting on my couch trying to figure out what it is. It sounds like a giant fucking tropical bird moved in next door.

Well it turns out, after all the shit we went through a year ago with the noise complaints and eviction notice, my neighbours decided it would be a good idea to get a dog.

And of course these obnoxious assholes couldn't just get a quiet, normal, well-behaved dog. They had to get a completely untrained, 4 month old, tiny, yappy Pomeranian that was INCAPABLE of being quiet. This thing would yap and screech and bark over and over and over EVERY DAY for HOURS.

While I'm still coming to terms with how miserable my life is about to become, I get a note under my door. On it, my neighbour writes that she just got the dog as an emotional support animal for her mental health, and asks the whole hallway to please try to tolerate the noise.

Fuck that shit. I'd already been living next to and listening to these neighbours scream at each other for over a year. They were confirmed fucking morons; two insane, toxic assholes in a mutually abusive relationship. I knew with CERTAINTY that they weren't capable of taking care of this dog properly and the noise situation would go to complete shit.

And regarding the mental health, I was going through my own troubles during this time (in part due to lack of sleep) and was seeing a therapist. The last year of complaints should have made it clear to anyone that noise was a problem for me, especially getting woken up at night. Of all the things this neighbour could have chosen to help their mental health, they chose the most obnoxious thing possible. They knew getting a loud dog was going to be a problem and they did it anyway. It was time for WAR.

I realized if I wanted this noise to stop, or to be even taken seriously, I needed a mountain of evidence against my neighbours. I researched the evictions process and everything that was required. I checked the forms my superintendent would have to send out for an eviction notice. I read threads on reddit about slumlords and neighbour disputes. It became clear to me the only way to win was to be religiously disciplined both in gathering evidence and refusing to retaliate (no more Kenny G). I became a noise-complaint monk, taking a vow of disciplined log taking, and relying on mantras like "shut the fuck up... shut the fuck up...."

Once I submitted my first written complaint, things got bad. My neighbours flipped out when they realized I was complaining again. I heard stuff like "OF ALL THE APARTMENTS IN --- WE HAVE TO LIVE NEXT TO THIS FUCKING GUY?!" for a few days. Then the loud arguments in the middle of the night started all over again. And one of the neighbours got into the new habit of SLAMMING their chest of drawers against my wall at 2am.

The barking also got much worse. The emotional-support-animal letter said that the barking would get better once the dog was trained, but from what I could hear my neighbours methods of training began and ended with screaming at the dog just like they screamed at each other each day. "NO! BAD DOG!", "BE QUIET!", "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" came through my wall in new and varied combinations every day. And every time an argument started between my neighbours the dog would always join in, even in the middle of the night. The constant level of noise was insane.

For over a year, l logged every instance of yelling, shouting, and barking coming from my neighbours apartment. It didn't matter if it was after 11pm or not at this point, I was trying to demonstrate how I can't get peace at any time of day. And when I say every instance, I mean I had minute-to-minute logs of every loud noise and every word I heard from my neighbours wall. If I was woken up in the middle of the night it went in the log. If I heard the dog bark from 12pm-1pm on February 2nd it went in the log. If I heard someone yell "YOU PEED ON THE FLOOR AGAIN, FUCK!" at the dog it went in the log. Honestly it sucked and made me almost lose my fucking mind, but by the time I was done I had pages and pages of notes

Obviously written logs wouldn't be enough. I already had a decently fat stack of video evidence to demonstrate the true character of my neighbours, but I needed current evidence if there was going to be another hearing. Fuck Spielberg, now I was Coppola in the heart of darkness. I got more videos of screaming and shouting coming out of their door. I got videos of banging and barking against my shared wall. I got videos of screaming, shouting, banging, and barking all at the same time, or in any combination. I had amassed a war-chest of video evidence to be deployed at the next available hearing, but I was getting war-weary

At this point I was like 6 or 8 months into the complaints process and I could barely take it anymore. I was getting woken up like 2 nights a week and would be a zombie at work (I complained about my neighbours at work often). I was finding it harder and harder to keep myself from blasting music, or banging on their wall, or kicking their fucking door down. But I managed to stay strong, and I followed the eviction process like it was my religion. I sent in a second written complaint, then a third which resulted in an eviction notice, which gave the neighbours an opportunity to be quiet. This time they didn't give a fuck, if anything they were louder than ever before. I was looking for other places to move into when I finally get good news from the property manager: there's a hearing date!

There was light at the end of the tunnel, but once the neighbours heard about the hearing date they did everything they could to fuck me up. There were no attempts to stop the barking anymore, it was constant. The screaming matches were back in full force, and when they started yelling and screaming the dog would go nuts! It was just an insane amount of noise.

And the drawers were ridiculous! Honestly I never expected the slamming drawers to be that bad but they easily eclipsed the barking and the shouting. They would SLAM and SLAM and SLAM the drawers over and over again against my wall. And because of the plaster it would BOOM BOOM BOOM and echo through my whole place. These assholes were definitely doing it on purpose.

3 days before the hearing date I go to bed at 9:45pm. At 10pm I'm still not asleep but I'm startled by BOOM BOOM of the drawers, I log it and go back to bed. At 11:30pm I wake up to BOOM BOOM BOOM again, and I'm pissed off. It takes me half an hour but I fall asleep again. Then at 12:45am BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM there it is again! I call my superintendent, tell her what's going on, the super calls them and tells them to stop. I fall back asleep. Then at 1:30am BOOM BOOM BOOM I wake up super fucking angry, it's obvious they're doing this on purpose to piss me off before the hearing and get a reaction out of me. I call the super again, and go back to sleep again. Then at 2:45am BOOM BOOM BOOM I can't take it anymore. I scream "DO IT AGAIN!!!! DO IT AGAIN!!!" I lost it, I couldn't help myself. My discipline broke. My superintendent calls me and tells me my neighbours just said I yelled a death threat through the wall (what the fuck?) and that they're calling the police (WHAT THE FUCK?). Everything just feels fucked now, I can't sleep so I just wait until morning. No police show up and I go to work. I realized I couldn't even stay at my place anymore until this hearing was over, so I went back to my brothers couch for the next 3 days.

Finally the big day arrives. I gather my evidence: Over a year of meticulously logged noise complaints, 6 instances of video evidence (I cherry picked the gold out of 20 good ones), the previous eviction notice the neighbours received, 4 written noise complaints (including the 2 from the previous eviction notice), a letter from my co-worker about poor work performance due to lack of sleep, and even a letter from my therapist about how my neighbours' excessive noise was affecting my mental health.

I got there and met the property manager and superintendent, who were there with the owner of the property management company and a slick looking lawyer. I handed the lawyer all my evidence. I gave him a usb stick with the videos. I even handed over my big bluetooth speaker to make sure the videos were loud enough to hear (laptop speakers suck).

I look over to my neighbours and they are wide-eyed. They look scared! Finally!

We all go into the landlord/tenant board room with everybody. The adjudicator first asks if anyone wants to mediate instead of going through with the hearing. My neighbour's hand immediately shoots up. I say in front of everybody "I don't want to mediate!" but apparently it's not up to me and the lawyer takes me aside.

The lawyer tells me if it goes to mediation, the neighbours and the property management create an agreement (e.g. no more noise at x o'clock), and if that agreement is broken once it results in an immediate eviction. He explains if we go in front of the board instead it's a 50/50 chance they either get evicted or get off completely. Obviously mediation is the better way to go, I know these idiots are already incapable of keeping quiet, so I agree with the lawyer. We go out to find the neighbours and they're nowhere to be found. Turns out they opted for the free legal counsel ( I wonder why) and won't be available until the afternoon.

While waiting I explain to the property manager, owner, and lawyer what happened a few days ago with the slamming drawers all night long. When I made my complaints before no one really took them seriously, but today everyone is very interested in everything I have to say.

The afternoon comes, and I'm excluded from the mediation meeting because it's between the neighbours, the lawyer, and the owner. I can't hear what they're saying but I can hear my neighbours yelling and shouting from inside the room so I know it's not going well for them.

Everyone leaves the room and the lawyer comes up to me. He tells me the mediation failed, the neighbours refuse to change their behaviour and won't accept any terms. The lawyer says they have to go in front of the adjudicator again but by now it's almost the end of the day.

I wait another hour or two and everyone comes out. I see my neighbours leave as the lawyer comes by again and explains. Apparently, after the mediation failed, the property management owner offered my neighbours 2 months rent FREE if they agreed to move out in 2 months. The neighbours agreed, but when they all went in front of the adjudicator the neighbours changed their minds and said no! And apparently a second offer was made, which they said yes to, and then no again, all in front of the adjudicator! They ended up running out of time and the adjudicator cut the hearing short and said it would have to be resolved in a second hearing. I was disappointed, but the lawyer assured me that because of how capricious and insane my neighbours behaved in during the hearing, they would almost certainly be evicted during a second hearing. I was dismayed that it wasn't over, but hopeful the end was coming soon. I also felt vindicated, it was finally clear to everyone that my neighbours were actually insane and I wasn't just making this up.

The next two months weren't as bad as before. I continued my long steady march of logs and videos. But the noise definitely let up, especially the drawers. One day near the end of the second month I started to hear insane barking, it would not stop. It went on for hours and hours and hours. I called the superintendent to complain when they told me it was probably because the neighbours were moving out today. YES! HAHAHA! FINALLY! Apparently she couldn't tell me earlier because of privacy reasons. As they were moving out I blasted 'Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye' on loop, put in some earplugs, and took a 2 hour bath.

My apartment is quiet now and I can finally sleep. It wasn't exactly the satisfying crushing blow I wanted but my discipline paid off and now I can live in peace.

(source) story by (/u/ZapoiBoi)

[fuck-customers]

The Greetening

Hi everyone! It's been a bit of a while since I've submitted anything here, but I've worked for the Goods at Home store for going on 5 years this winter - I submitted stories a while back, but it's been a while. Still read this blog on every single break of mine.

A LOT has happened, of course, but what I'm here to talk about today is the beautiful experience of our new Greeter position. You see, the Goods at Home store, owned by the YKC company (also fake), is taking the current world situation at least somewhat seriously - we're checking in before each shift about temperatures and all that, and they're taking the time needed to quarantine in suspected cases pretty darn seriously with not the usual expected "but we're shortstaffed" complaints - and they have created two new positions just for the C-19 Shopping Experience (trademark pending). We have a Cart Leader, who fetches all the carts from the parking lot to inside the store and sanitizes them before customer use (and also helps with carryouts), and the Greeter, who keeps track of the number of people inside the store, answers questions, and of course, greets everyone who comes in.

Being someone who's good at pretending to be personable, I've found myself in this position...a lot. I actually enjoy it in the broad strokes - it's pretty easy to stand there (and dance, to keep my knees from locking) and say pretty much the same things for the whole shift - but like anything in retail, the customers make it better....and worse. This is gonna be a long one, TLDR at the bottom One more note - our store's carts keep disappearing, and we're down to 17 for a store that has a current max person capacity (not counting employees) of 66.

Since the store has reopened three months ago, I have been -Told I sound like I work at Disneyland at least 60 times, like a stewardess at least 24 times, and like a robot by one lady who I don't think was trying to be mean but it came out very mean -Told I sound like I "must be on drugs" by a lady who I forced to repeat it until she qualified "cuz you sound way too happy for this time of night!" (WTF lady, it's my job, you'd grumble if I didn't sound like I wanna eat your shoes) -Scoffed at for telling people that the store is full and that they have to wait outside -Cursed at by a lady who didn't hear me saying to walk to the back of the VERY CLOSE INLET THAT I POINTED AT to follow the arrows for a return, because I "made" her walk to the back of the store for no reason (my coworker was going to bat for me, but I just let her go with a smile. She mighta flipped me off on her way out, but that's your own fault for not listening to me saying "just to the back of this inlet, right here, behind that very table" three times) -Cursed at by people standing in the line outside on an incredibly busy Sunday; I know it's hot, miss, but I cannot let you cut 13 people - we sell nothing life-saving, if you're that desperate for our stuff, you'll wait -Been standing out in the heat and smokey air (California baybee) for half an hour plus, with people constantly complaining about the heat who've been in line for five minutes -Threatened with legal action by a gentleman who I would not let cut the line to join his wife inside the store (because "If I get heat stroke I'm suing you"), who got immediate karmic comeuppance after he stormed off to the car and thirty seconds later, I got an updated headcount that would have had him in the store if he hadn't been so impatient -Been sneered at for asking people to follow our directional arrows -Been told very sharply that other people aren't following the arrows and  I should "do something about it" (yeah, let me just approach a customer and tell them they're wrong, miss, that goes over well for someone in my position) -Been lectured at least seven times on how ridiculous our lack of carts is -And, apparently, been "the reason" one lady dropped her stuff and stormed out because she kept refusing to wait for a cart, leaving to shop, and coming back to find no carts, because any that became available in the meantime got taken by someone else who was willing to wait

But, it's still a position I enjoy. Which says something about retail, I guess, when there can be this much bad inside a job and it's still considered "pretty okay" TL: DR our new greeter position gets a lot of hate and blame for things that aren't anyone's fault