#and i was like 'this bitch i know this bitch sounds familiar' so i googled it right

[tiredassmage]

A group of besties started playing Guild Wars 2... idk, like the other week? Time is fake and everything is an illusion to me, so, anyway, photodump excuse of uhhh... I half-accidentally recreated Tyr & Rhiannon, but GW??? I think, idk, I’ve never played another GW in my life, but look my brainworms are having a great time.

Featuring, I would die for this raptor and also my necromancer minions (he waited for me when I was trying to get a vista, I felt like I’D ABANDONED MY BOY), and also that time I thought “what’s the worst that could happen, let’s do the jumping puzzle” (swtor this is ALL YOUR FAULT, fucking corrupting me into enjoying jumping puzzles and now there’s VISTAS. what the FUCK) and uh, tldr, Tyr was in a really dark jacket (see the lizard pics) and the rest of him just deadass kinda disappeared and I spluttered about this for about 5 minutes.

What’s NOT pictured is landing on necromancer as my beloved took about 3 or 4 other character attempts (including would-be Tyr) and all I’m saying is that I’m now way more familiar with the first 30 levels of the human origin story than I ever planned to be, do NOT ask me why or how I did this, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. Tyr doesn’t know, Letallia doesn’t know, we all don’t know.

What I HAVE decided: is necromancer fucks. I’d die for these creepy little bony bastards. (They’ve done a lot of dying for me. MVPs, they’ve been real ones) Necromancer fucks and also fuck you, I kind of love you GW2 vistas and other little jumping activities. How fucking dare you do this to me.

[ljubimaya]

SLUT ME OUT𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

SYNOPSIS: Does fucking your bratty girlfriend into oblivion help her fall asleep even when her sleep shedule is shit? Draken says yes! C/W: fem! afab! Reader, established relationship, aged up characters (20+ years old), brat! reader and brat tamer! Draken, pussy spanking, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), tummy bulging, cervix fucking, reader doesn't have a great sleep schedule/implied insomnia, mentions of social media (tiktok, Instagram, etc.), no prep, Draken has a big dick, rip your pussy, MDNI!!!! W/C: about 3k A/N: this is super self indulgent and has been on my mind for the longest time :,)) I won't lie, this particular fic took me a while to write for some reasons, but I guess not every fic can just flow out of my brain directly into my google docs. Also, not proofread and kinda chaotic (?)

DRAKEN had enough. He’d toss and turn, unable to get a wink of sleep. Next to him laid, or rather sat, you, staring at the bright display of your phone watching the newest videos of your favorite creators. You’d scroll, switching between Instagram Reels to Tiktoks to Youtube shorts, trying to get your nightly dose of entertainment before you’d cuddle up to your boyfriend and fall asleep. Insomnia was a bitch and Draken knew that you did your best not to disturb his sleep, but it became glaringly clear that your sleeping habits impacted his. So really, it didn’t do much for him when you lowered the volume as much as you could, or the way you’d try and stifle your laughter at a particularly funny Reel. He was wide away at an ungodly hour with you, but unlike you, he had to go to work in six hours. 

“Babe, you should go to sleep now” Draken grumbled as he turned around to face you “Phone-time is over” Draken reached and grabbed your phone from your grip before turning it off and placing it on his night stand. Once Draken turned back to look at you, the street lanterns barely illuminated the dark bedroom from outside. The blonde’s eyes quickly adapted to the dark, and all he saw was your pouty face glaring daggers at him.

“You can’t just take away my phone like that” you scoffed at your boyfriend “You’re acting like my dad. I’m a grown woman, and I’m more than capable of making my own decisions” Huffing, you tried to reach over the broad man to get your phone back, eager to return to the story time you’ve just watched. But you’ll soon come to find out that your boyfriend is not the right man to disobey. 

Draken caught your hand before you could even touch your phone “Oh yeah, a grown woman? You?” He looked at you with his sharp onyx eyes. You saw an all too familiar dangerous spark in his eyes, a spark that challenged you to defy him. Fuck around and find out.

“Yes, me. Believe it or not, but I’m my own person” you exclaimed, trying to sound as firm as you can. This was dangerous territory, but you’ve walked that path numerous times and oh boy, did you want to fuck around and find out. Not that you didn’t know what would follow - you were certain about what would follow should you keep being difficult. 

You pressed your thighs together, clit throbbing at the vicious glare your boyfriend threw at you “Who are you to even think you can boss me around?” That sealed the deal, you concluded from the way Draken leaned in closer to you. His gigantic form blocked out the window, the only source of light. You weren’t able to see much, but you didn’t have to. Draken was so close to you that you heard his even breathing, smelled the faint smell of the shampoo he used when he went to shower prior to joining you in bed hours ago, but most importantly, you felt him. You felt his rough hands on your thigh underneath the blanket, warm fingers pressing into your soft flesh. But most importantly, you felt his breath fanning  against your lips. 

“Yeah, you are your own person” His deep voice rumbles through the darkness of your shared bedroom, sending a shiver of excitement over your body “But I think you’re giving yourself way too much credit. You may look like a somewhat reliable, mature person, but you’re a brat through and through”

His grip on your thigh grew tighter. A mewl almost escaped your lips, but you didn’t dare make a noise. You didn’t want him to know that you got off to this, at least not now.

“And you know damn well I don’t like being disrespected. I’m not your father, but I am your boyfriend and I won’t tolerate this level of disrespect” Draken’s voice rumbled lowly, his grip on your thigh as firm as before “I’m gonna give you one chance to look me in the eye and apologize, brat” He spat out. The way your boyfriend put so much emphasis on “brat” made you feel tingles inside your stomach. 

You leaned closer to him, looked him in the face - even when you couldn’t see well in the dark, you still knew where to look - and told him with the sweetest voice “No. I’m not gonna apologize for anything. I said what I said” You were about to ask for your phone back, hoping that would make him snap but you didn’t get the chance to. A yelp left your mouth at the stinging sensation you felt on your thigh. You were no longer able to contain your excitement; a lewd moan left your lips as his palm made impact with your thigh. Draken was on top of you, yanking your legs apart harshly, before your mind could even register it.

“Should have known you were being difficult on purpose” Your boyfriend grumbled into your ear, his fingers tracing lines over your clothed cunt “Could have just told me you want me to fuck you to sleep. Would have saved me my nerves”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not being difficult” 

“Liar” His fingers slipped past your panties. A sinful moan left your lips as Draken teased your clit, rubbing agonizingly light strokes over your throbbing bud. His fingers barely touched you where you needed him the most. A part of you wanted to drop the bratty act and ask - no, beg -  him to fuck you, but you already knew that it was far too late to act like a good girl for him. So you committed to the bratty act. 

“I’m not a liar-”

Gasps and moans left your lips as Draken slapped your clothed pussy, making you unable to finish your protests. The stinging pain aroused you even more. You wanted more of him. 

"What was that? Didn’t catch that” Draken grinned wolfishly at your attempts to seem unfazed, but your squirming beneath his calloused hand and the embarrassingly big, wet spot on your panties told him everything he needed to know.

“I said I’m not a liar-” His hand landed on your pussy again. The hard slap sent a jolt through your body, slick seeped out of your pussy and soiled your favorite pair of panties. 

“Hmmm, apologize for lying to me, and I’ll take off your panties for you” Draken’s deep, rich voice rumbled “If I like your apology, that is. Better start begging if you want them off” 

“N-No, I won’t apologize” the words stumbled out of your lips, unable to come up with a snarky comment. Your refusal to beg would have to do for now. 

Another hard slap landed on your pussy once Draken heard your whiney stutter. You mewled at the impact, loving the pleasure you feel from the pain. Your clit throbbed against the fabric of your heavily soiled like a second heartbeat, waiting to be touched again; but as if reading your mind, Draken his assault on your poor pussy. Instead, he roughly yanked your panties off your body, so much so you feared he ripped the fabric. You yelped as he manhandled you, pressed you into the mattress and took your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. 

You could feel his bulge pressed against your thigh as he yanked your legs apart, making sure to position himself between your trembling legs.  Anticipation washes over you; you felt so excited to feel his fingers stretch you out nicely, preparing you to take his thick cock. You’re already imagining his long fingers pumping in and out, middle and ring finger setting an unforgiving pace as his thumb would be teasing your clit until you’d cream around his digits. 

Instead of thrusting in and out of your weeping hole, his fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down. Draken’s rock hard dick slapped against his toned abs. Your eyes have adjusted to the little light coming from outside, the cheap lantern lights illuminating the best parts of your boyfriend as you moved your head, desperate to catch a glimpse. 

Veiny, girthy, with a big, angry red tip, leaking precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. Oh, what you’d do to have him down your throat…

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw Draken give his cock a few, firm pumps before his hand moved back to the base, guiding his leaking tip between your folds. The thought of your boyfriend fucking you without preping you beforehand felt both daunting and arousing to you. Remembering the previous times he took you, you vividly remembered the way his dick would stretch you out uncomfortably despite him eating you out and fingering you beforehand. You could only imagine the damage he’d do if he didn’t prep you. So, your bratty act faltered as you opened your mouth, and hoarsely asked “Baby, what are you doing?”

Lust filled, onyx eyes met yours as Draken heard your small protests, a scowl adorned his handsome face “Teaching you a lesson” He groaned as he teased your folds with his tip ���Since you wanted to be a brat about it, I’m gonna put you back in your place like one” Without warning, Draken pushed his bulbous tip inside. 

Tears shot up in your eyes as you bit back a scream, feeling as if you were being impaled by him. You struggled beneath him, struggled to take him fully while he mercilessly forced himself inside you, and struggled to contain your moans bubbling out of your sealed lips. Despite the stretching, burning pain you felt the deeper Draken pushed himself between your walls, you couldn’t deny that you liked it. Your clit throbbed as you got stuffed full of cock, begging to be touched, pinched, slapped.

Sweat collected on Draken’s forehead. He felt somewhat conflicted about not loosening you up properly, feeling that he might be doing too much this time, but the grip your gummy walls had on him made it impossible for him to pull out. He didn’t know if it was either the lack of prep or you loving it that made you so damn tight - almost too tight- for him. Draken was sure of one thing though: he physically couldn’t pull out. He lacked the will power for it.

Lost in his own pleasure, your boyfriend glanced at your face. The nagging voice in his head demanded to know if you were doing okay. Below him, you were a shaking mess. A thin sheen of sweat covered your skin, lips plump and bruised from you biting them, eyes rolled back in sheer bliss and tummy bulging. If heaven was real, it would face in comparison to your blissed out expression, a sweet combination of pained and aroused. 

“Oh, why so silent, brat?” Draken huffed “Where did your smart mouth go?” He groaned as he harshly thrusted the last remaining inches inside your weeping cunt, attentively watching your face. You weren’t able to hold the nasty, loud moan anymore. You tried to hold onto the pillows for leverage, but Draken’s tight grip on your wrists didn’t falter. Panting, you made eye contact with Draken. His scowl has warped into a cruel grin; he looked down on you like a wolf would look at a wounded sheep, ready to devour it. 

“You’re so filthy” Draken mused, chuckling darkly when you turned your face away in shame. His free hand took hold of the bed frame, an action that caught your attention. You squeezed your eyes shut, anticipating a hard thrust out before he’d plunge right back inside you. But he didn’t. Instead, the grip on your wrists grew tighter, making you squeal in pain and look at him, glaring daggers at your boyfriend. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to, brat” Draken growled “This is your last chance. Beg me for forgiveness, and I might be nice” 

And despite his threats, he still saw a flicker of defiance in your eyes. He knew that you’d always be bratty to him, and you knew he knew. 

“F-Fuck you” you meekly replied back, your voice faltering and shaky. You knew you were screwed when you saw the dark glint in Draken’s onyx eyes. 

Wordlessly, Draken pulled out and rammed back inside. The first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, the ones that followed after knocked your soul out of your body. Draken didn’t hold himself back, the might of his thrusts shook the bed you two shared. The old mattress that you two have been meaning to replace for ages let out loud, squeaky noises with every movement. The thudding, the squeaking, your loud sobs and Draken’s low groans were a guarantee for getting noise complaints in the morning, but neither of you cared; your brain fuzzy from the painful yet delicious stretch and Draken too focused on the grip your pussy had on his dick. 

Draken’s balls smacked against your ass with each merciless thrust, heavy and full with his cum. His tip continuously kissed your cervix, which ended up heightening the pain and pleasure you felt. Feeling overstimulated, you knew you wouldn’t last any longer and come soon. While drunk on your pussy, Draken was still able to think somewhat clearly. He felt the way your walls grew tighter around him and heard the frantic moans that escaped your lips. 

So he stopped right before you could come. 

You whined desperately once Draken stopped moving, trying to grind your hips against him, to create a friction that could satisfy the overbearing heat you felt in your tummy. Much to your dismay, you weren’t able to move a lot with your boyfriend pressing down on you. 

“Stop moving or I will pull out” Draken warned you sternly. He didn’t like having to postpone his own orgasm for the sake of teaching you a lesson, so he hopes he has cracked you down enough to drop your stubborn, bratty attitude. 

A wince left your lips as you heard Draken, your hips stopping their movements. You looked up at him, teary eyed and frowning at his sudden stop.

“You didn’t actually think I’d let you cum after all the badmouthing you did” He scoffed, trying to suppress a grin. Oh, how he loved seeing you so needy. He absolutely loved seeing the real you, the desperate you. 

You’d be embarrassed by the way your resolve broke so quickly, but you couldn’t think straight anymore. All thoughts in your head revolved around cumming on his cock. 

“Please” you whimpered out “Please, I wanna cum”

“Nu-huh. You’ll have to do better” Draken rolled his eyes at you “And you better be quick. I don’t have the whole night”

And just like that, the dam broke. Beginnings and pleadings and empty promises bubbled out of your mouth, each word sounding more desperate than the previous. Music to his ears. 

“I will never disrespect you like that again” You promised, sobbing as you ran out of anything to make him reconsider “I will always listen to you, I will always be obedient” 

Of course, Draken knew that you were throwing everything and saw what stuck; he knew you would go back to your antics as soon as you wake up in the morning. To say he was unimpressed was an understatement. 

“I’ll be good. I-I will fix my sleep schedule” you stuttered out, growing antsy at the lack of a reaction. You’ve run out of what to say to him to appease him “You wanted me to fix it, right?” 

Draken could only scoff at you. What a pathetic thing to say “We both know that’s a lie. You know I hate lies” Draken could see the disappointment in your eyes “And to top it all off, all of those things you’ve said are lies as well”

“But that’s fine. I’m gonna make an honest person out of you” With that, Draken slammed his hips against yours, picking up right where he left off. Screams and cries left your lips as your boyfriend drilled inside you. 

“If fucking your brains out every night is what will make you be good, I will do it” Draken grunted between thrusts. Draken’s pace was unforgiving, his thrusts angled to hit all the right spots. The sudden switch up on his demeanor left you confused, but who were you to question your boyfriend while he’s balls deep inside you?

Draken’s hips repeatedly crash against yours, chasing after his orgasm. He was usually so patient and kind with you, making sure you’d cum before him. This time, Draken prioritized his own high. So he fucked you like a dog in heat until he emptied his balls inside you with a groan. He shut his eyes tightly as he fucked his cum into you, trying to extend his orgasm as much as he could. 

His cum shot inside your womb, filling you up nicely; so much so that the tight knot in your tummy broke. You mewled out his name as you came hard, your legs trembling and your back arched at the aftershocks from your intense orgasm. Your eyes felt heavy, and before you knew it, you passed out from sheer exhaustion. Sleeping soundly, you didn’t notice Draken pulling his dick out. He could only imagine the divine view of his cum leaking out of your pulsing pussy if it was brighter inside the bedroom. 

Despite feeling tired himself, Draken pushed himself off your shared bed and went to the bedroom quietly, making sure you wouldn't wake up. After all, he gave it his all to put you to sleep. He returned -womewhat clean himself- with a wet towel and carefully cleaned you up. Your boyfriend silently watched you sleep, letting the previous events replay in his mind before he laid down and covered the both of you with a blanket. As Draken fell asleep, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph swell up in his chest. He finally knew what would get you to fall asleep, and he was very much intending at fucking you to sleep every night.

[witchinatree]

magnus protocols episode 22 ramble

i managed to push the schedule around so i could listen to this episode when it came out. i am terrified. the vague posts i keep seeing are freaking me out i'm not ready at all

of course you ran away gwenny you're so right for this!!!! "watching figure" OH YEAH. WATCHING.

lena i love you but this is. insane. gwen almost died and you're like i'm so fucking disappointed.

she's still shaking :( poor gwenny :(

woah that sounds familiar "your death would be a problem" is basically what elias told jon when he was exploring the tunnels

oh that's sweet, lena is stopping her external visits!! even if she is being a bitch about it. wait mrs. kelley, she's MARRIED??? idk why that's shocking to me

hey augustus. this is a bad sign isn't it

i know big words too!! saxophone... sorry i've been dragged back into sanders sides kicking and screaming

so it's like .. brain research ???

TWO SEPERATE ANIMALS IN ONE BODY OH NO WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN FOR US

an ocean... an ocean.... i'm so happy we're getting more ocean horror it was something i really wanted in tma. especially with like symbolism because it is deep and that is cool.

i'm gonna have to google so many things

he was so full of joy and whimsy!! oh that's not.

um!!!!! is he okay. why the fuck am i asking that he is CLEARLY not

do you remember that episode in tma where a guy like slowly crawled out of that other guy until he exploded or something, that kind of reminded me of it for a second

wtf wtf wtf wtf why is it talking why is the telegraph talking

what the hell genuine question what the hell

oh yikes it was alice who edited sam's caseload. ruh roh. HOW DID HE KNOW LMAO?????

sam you need to listen to alice i am begging you i am begging you. oh no.

alice thought he could escape the narrative and instead just doomed him for it

SHE CAN'T QUIT CAN SHE? CAN SHE? LMAO CAN SHE?

oh lord

DON'T SAY THAT SAM DON'T BRING THAT UP. POOR ALICE.

"get over it or get lost" :( sam no :(

CELIA WHAT. CELIA WHAT. WHATH HWHAHTWUAHFHWHUAHTHHWH ATHWHAHT

DO YOU EVER

DO

DO YOU EVER

VIOLNELTY SJAKNG???? TWEKAING????????? WHOOOOOOOOOOO??????????????????? I GENUINELY THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA SAY JONAH MAGNUS. DID WE JUST ACTUALLY GET THEM MENTIONED BY NAME. CELIA I KNOW YOU KNOW. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE CELIA RIPLEY. HOYL FHCIHGUHAF

JONATHAN SIMS AND MARTIN BLACKWOOD THEEY'RE REAL THYYYYYE'RE REAL.

[slova-the-necromancer]

a dive into the symbolism in "forged in fog"

exactly how the title of the post sounds, i have this so insanely on the mind and i wanted it in a slightly easier format than google docs to have accessible. while i'm at it, too, i'd like to share my thoughts and possibly hear others on the matter. more specifically, this is about tome 14, so..yappening under the cut.

SO. when i was in between classes today, i was looking at tarhos's tome armor/the rift outfit that you got for that tome. most notably, taking a magnifying glass to the symbolic concept of "hear no evil/see no evil" represented in the helmet, and looking a lot at the in-game description saying something along the lines of how he was made to wear that by his lord. see below, looking at the hands over the ears and the eyes.

this led me down a REALLY deep rabbit hole in regards to the origins of this old western proverb that we are all so familiar with, and most notably at first, i found 2.

the four wise monks from buddhism, dating back to ancient china. practicing right mindfulness, right speech, right action, and right livelihood.

from that concept in buddhism came another interpretation from 14th century japan, the three wise monkeys. mizaru, roughly meaning "does not see," kikazaru, or "does not hear," and iwazaru, or "does not speak.

the problem i found with trying to link these interpretations back to the tome is that neither of these have any relation to the italian renaissance. the italian renaissance was, obviously, a christian/catholic renaissance. at this point in history, buddhism was very largely untouched by the west, and this held true until around the 19th century. this isn't even BEGINNING to count the isolationist policies of 14th century southeast asia. apologies if some stuff here is wrong, this is NOT my field of study!

this is a problem because, as we know, tarhos and vittorio are dated from 1391, and historians pretty generally agree that the renaissance has its origins in the 14th century. it's really more...the span of the renaissance that's argued. there's some pretty blatant symbolism here that doesn't make MUCH sense to have reached 14th century italy, even for a nobleman such as vittorio who, like most, was probably a sponsor in the arts and exploration. by this point in my research, i really just started bitching about the historical accuracy-- or rather, inaccuracy-- and how BHVR really seems to prioritize aesthetics over period-relevance.

BUT!!! a little bit more reading brought me to look further into confucius and his teachings!

according to national geographic, "The main idea of Confucianism is the importance of having a good moral character, which can affect the world around a person through the idea of cosmic harmony. This moral character is achieved through the virtue of ren, or 'humanity,' which leads to more virtuous behaviors, such as respect, altruism and humility." so huh! just based on that, it really kind of feels like we're onto something based on the characterization of vittorio that BHVR gives us. (from what i'm aware of, i'm more of a tarhos guy)

confucius writes in The Analects in chapter 12, "Yen Yuan asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, "To subdue one's self and return to propriety, is perfect virtue. If a man can for one day subdue himself and return to propriety, an under heaven will ascribe perfect virtue to him. Is the practice of perfect virtue from a man himself, or is it from others?' Yen Yuan said, 'I beg to ask the steps of that process.' The Master replied, 'Look not at what is contrary to propriety; listen not to what is contrary to propriety; speak not what is contrary to propriety; make no movement which is contrary to propriety.' Yen Yuan then said, 'Though I am deficient in intelligence and vigor, I will make it my business to practice this lesson.'" i feel like this in and of itself can be seen as symbolic of best-case scenario tarhos and vittorio, because it is ABUNDANTLY clear that this path to enlightenment is virtually nonexistent for the former-- tarhos is more the one prattling on and on about foolishness towards vittorio, not himself. but here we see the roots that buddhism and, by extension, japanese philosophy both pull from, confucius defining propriety as "proper behavior and interactions."

from here, i made an effort to link this idea back to the italian renaissance. it's all speculation of whether or not there was really any confucian influence in the italian/european renaissance-- we're looking at a time about 400-ish years before deistic teachings emerged (god as the secondary driving force, morality and humanity first and foremost as the number one influence. think martin luther and voltaire). here, we're looking more at very early/preliminary enlightenment, so very philosophical, less scientific. i won't say objective because NOTHING in history is objective. here's what we know in regards to possible relevance:

confucian's teachings weren't really translated until the 17th century by the jesuits.

in the later half of the 13th century, the polos returned to venice after a few excursions to china, reaching as far as what is known now as modern day beijing.

in the mid-to-late-ish 14th century, there was a cessation of european roman-catholic missionaries and merchants from china after establishment of the ming dynasty, and reestablishment of ethnic han rule.

it feels a little bit like a big nothing burger here, so at this point, i'm kind of about ready to throw my hands up and say whatever, i'm putting more thought into this than BHVR has.

now, i'll run through the actual interpretations of the proverb, much less "how did they even KNOW about this??"

the proverb has multiple meanings, as many ideas in philosophy do.

from a glass half full standpoint, we can look at it like...this is the peak of spiritual consciousness. living with an awareness of what we take in, what we see, what we hear, how we act, and what we say. we have the power, as the individual, to choose to see what is right with people, as opposed to what is wrong with them.

from a glass half empty standpoint, this can all be taken the exact same way but sort of flipped on its head a little bit. instead of the active choice being made by the individual to do all of these things, it can be seen as practicing willful ignorance. seeing the bad in making the choice to not acknowledge wrongdoing, to ignore the world around us, to pick and choose the things and ideas that confirm our biases of human nature and the "inherent goodness" of people.

both of these interpretations for SURE apply greatly to the forged in fog lore in general. again, not a vittorio guy, but i see him more as the former, seeking enlightenment and knowledge and doing so peacefully, while tarhos's criticisms of him and of noble society is the latter.

tarhos views the nobles and the knights as cowards that are shielding themselves from and wrapping themselves in the security of this idea of justice, choosing only to see and hear the good when their actions and legacies are just absolutely...bathed in blood. a bloody legacy that they are choosing to ignore. people who practice willful ignorance being so far up on their own high horse that they just can't look down and see the people that they are trampling into the ground. tarhos as this superior moral being-- how he KNOWS he's evil and he doesn't deny it, but it's the fact that these same exact people pick and choose what to praise him for. this begs the questions from him...what makes the atrocities he commits righteous and honorable? is it only worthy of praise when he's receiving a paycheck for them?

FINALLY getting into the design of the armor now holy shittt.

all of those ideas, ultimately leading up to THIS, is why BHVR's choice of depicting the physical representation of this proverb onto tarhos-- the exact OPPOSITE of someone that would willingly uphold these ideals-- is so unbelievably interesting to me. the personification of see no evil and hear no evil forced onto him by his employer, who he views as some...self-righteous douchebag, and what to him, feels like just downright ignorance and foolishness.

in the video, too, we see tarhos committing these atrocities that are outlined in the tome lore. he's killing, pillaging, thieving, what have you, and by the end of it?

a VERY VERY nice and up close and personal shot of that helmet, of that symbol of good morals and proper conduct, of propriety. we see the streaks on the hands covering the eyes, honestly probably dripping blood but also looks veiny and reminiscent of like...corruption and how that's depicted in art, or maybe some cracks in the visage we see. and then, the zoom out shot of him stabbing the sword into the man, giving us a pretty clear juxtaposition of just absolutely bastardizing and twisting this ideal that stems from good faith.

the final shot that we see at the end of the video gives us a good view of the cape, too. on it is what is universally know as the scales of justice, but we can see that the scales are tipped-- and i know that's not just the cape moving because you can see it earlier on in the video, too, this is just a more clear shot of him walking away from the scene. i unfortunately got a not great screenshot of the cape being a little straighter ough. justice in a literal representation of the ideals of vittorio, yes, but also, perhaps a new, metaphorical representation of the scales of justice tipped in favor of tarhos's idea of what it means? of the way that he views himself as the judge, jury, and executioner? like this decision of his is what weighs the scales down in his favor.

fin.

if anyone made it this far, i'd be happy to hear any other thoughts! of course, this is non-exhaustive-- again, in regards to the history of it, not my circus, not my monkeys, i'm just a guy that likes the knight a little bit too much. plus i myself might expand on this some more and edit it a little, too, because in my lots and lots of searching, i saw arguments that the "virtue politics" of the italian renaissance have some striking similarities to confucianism. my school library has a book on that that i'm planning on taking out later this week.

TLDR; i crave historical accuracy, and pieces of lore that i can put together like a puzzle. in regards to accuracy, it feels like BHVR took 3 different puzzles together in a box and just shook it up. historical accuracy aside though, the symbolism is SO GOOD. yum yum yum BHVR please release the knight cosmetic in the shop already.

[buckieduckie2]

I wanna talk about a hyperfixation of mine: a little but of Queer History- W.H. Auden and gay poets

i would like to share with you a little bit of queer history, not super in depth but i want to share it with anyone whos not aware nonetheless (also i have no idea how many people know about this, so if this turns into a "oh everybody knows THAT"... hush. i dont care.

Okay, so a while ago I had to do a project on some poets asigned to me and write a short bio on them, talking about their life and career and things like that. So to get our information, our teacher had us looking in the archives and read a larger biography already written on them.... yeah.

So as I was reading this biography, i came across a part discussing his collaborators and one of the paragraphs mentioned W.H. Auden writing librettos with “Chester Kallman, an American poet and close friend who lived with him for more than 20 years," BITCH be so frrr 💀💀💀

So I read that like and immediately was like, hmm that sounds familiar 😐.... 🤨 but then I read farther into the biography and it said he had a wife and he was also super Christian so i was like... aw gUeSs hEs nOt gAy 😞

So yeah then I had to include a poem if his on the little infographic we were all making so i found one that I really, really liked called "Stop All The Clocks"

Stop All the Clocks

by W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Wow that poem is reall beautiful and really, really heartbreaking.

Yeah so I read that poem and immediately noticed the use of He/Him pronouns and thought... thats gay Soooooooo what did I do? I looked up if he was gay or not! And you know what google said? Yeah! He was!

One google search told me more about this man than an official archive with professionals 😐

W.H. Audens lifelong partner was Chester Kallman, and they translated/wrote (?) librettos together <3

Didn't you say he was super Christian tho...

Yeah, I did, and yeah, he was. But guess what? Gay people can be Christians too, and this man managed to do it in the fucking 40s till his death in '73. Albeit this came with many struggles internally, he still lived with Kallman till his death. So yeah, gay people had happy endings back then, even the religious ones :)

He also had some pretty rocking views on religion. Auden, thoughout his younger life, hadn't ever been part of any faith until a trip to Spain... we could get into that but we won't. Anyways, his pretty rocking opinion on religion? Don't force it on children. It's dumb and it brainwashes them cause they can't make the decision themselves. He probably said it better but you get my point.

Also he had a lot of kick-ass political opinions too.

Wait but didn't you say he had a wife?

Yeah but like, what gay man in the last 1084308394 centuries didnt? I mean c'mon.

Anyways so heres where things really start kicking....

W.H. Auden's wife was Erika Mann. Erika Mann was an actress from Germany, and the only reason she married W.H. Auden was so she could get an American passport.

And GUESS WHAT??? She was a lesbian.

MUAHAHAHHAA anyways.

Erika Mann also had a lover named Therese Giehse, a German actress as well who was introduced to John Hampson, an English novelist, via Auden. Hampson and Giehse both married so they could to go to the United States.

Anyways so things got more fun when I found out that Erika's brother was also gay. :DDDDD

His name was Klaus Mann, and he was an openly gay man. I don't want to get into too much detail here though because his life was tragic and there's a hole burning into my stomach because it makes me sad :((((

ANYWAYYSYSYYYYYSSSSS

So yeah! That was my "brief" little dive into W.H. Auden and his mutuals :)))))) I was literally SO greatful that I was asigned W.H. Auden when I started researching him in a little bit more depth because the poets had been assigned at random, so yeah this was really perfect :)

and BRO I LITERALLY COULD NOT IT WAS SO HILARIOUS TO ME- THE MORE AND MORE RESEARCH I DID THE MORE PEOPLE ENDED UP BEING QUEER AND IT WAS JUST SO HILARIOUS IN THE BEST WAY 😭😭😭 i was reeling i was literally so happy

ANYWAYS hope yall enjoyed that <333 hopefully this wasnt all TOO commonly known stuff i hope i taught at least one person something but either way- if you got this far THANKS FOR LISTENING TO ME TALK ABOUT THIS I REALLY LOVE TALKING ABOUT THIS ITS TOTALLY A HYPERFIXATION OF MINE

and agh~ can we talk about the amount of queerplatonic and mlm wlw solididarity? i love.

also disclaimer if anyone wants to call me out on my bullshit: yeah Kallman ended his sexual relationship with Auden in 1941 cause of like... a problem with mutual fidelity. they still lived together till death tho and Auden described their relationship as a marriage so shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i dont wanna go in depth rn 😡

also anyone please tell me if i got something horribly wrong dont be afraid to burst my bubble with the sweet smell of truth

Below the cut: photos of W.H. Auden Chester Kallman

W.H. Auden

W.H. Auden with Chester Kallman

@l0v3c0r3e you better read this or istg 👹

[freesidexjunkie]

Once again sharing this video because it's accidentally a real good ADHD explanation:

Caffeine and (some) ADHD meds work in the same way by tricking your adenosine receptors into chilling out.

"It makes your brain fire more sluggishly"

"It stops dopamine from attaching"

"It makes you sleepy"

Sound familiar? All ADHD symptoms, all being caused by the same bitch (and her incessant bullying of my good friend Dopamine). This video talks about how caffeine works in a perfectly "typical" brain, but when you add in the link between these adenosine receptors and ADHD...

There's a lot of biochemical reasons that i find fascinating but for real, google "ADHD and adenosine." I guarantee you've heard about dopamine in your ADHD but I feel like very few people tell us about adenosine. I personally like knowing the biochemical reasons why my brain does what it does. I like knowing why I'm inexplicably exhausted, or why having a video on in the background makes chores easier, or why stimulants don't make me hyped up but do make functioning feel so much easier.

real fucked up that caffeine works differently for people in general than it does for me

[softness-and-shattering]

Todsys baldurs gate adventures, that are still occuring, notably, not in Baldurs Gate.

Im gonna start tagging for spoilers at this point I think. Im gonna use bg3 spoilers as my tag.

So firstly I picked up find familiar to see if a familiar could get into one of these burrow places. Not onky can they not, even the raven has to follow people-walking paths. Ok I get it cant fly across chasms because thats end-of-map territory. But it cant just go up to a higher or lower terrain, it has to find the walking path! Its ridiculous. I need to pick up misty step somehow or dimension door or perhaps teleport. That'll be relevant soon.

So I used feather fall + jump from behind the mill in the blighted village to sneak across to the very north of the goblin camp. I snuck into the temple. And then I decided nah I wanna go find Halsin properly. His quest diamond was right above thr hunter goblin who's cooking dwarf and his poem is about the sword but ok. I run into poor Volo. (I realised later oh one of the source books is volos guide. Forgot to what though. Theres a very similar character with the same name in pokemon, is it arceus, the 'historical' one? Whats up w that?)

Ok hes being held captive. A quick google tells me to advance the Halsin quest I gotta talk to some oakshield guy so I find him, he directs me to the goblin prison called the pits aaand i wasnt in the secret temple before I was in the pits but I wasnt gettinf the quest information becausr Id done it out of order!

I go in I save volo I save Halsin, I meet Minthra and grieve the decision I, an entire bisexual, must make, but Im playing some kind of chaotic good-ish so I gotta kill her. I long rest. I meet the dream guardian. As Laezel almost murders it occurs to me that sleeping in the Absolute power dungeon mightve been a bad move. Idk what exactly triggered the cutscene but Im gonna imagine it was murdering a bitch, one of the absolutes favourites, and then lying down immediately for a cozy nap.

I go into thr fight with Rakshasa Belthazar. Rak Guruk? The guy with the Illithid. And very very early someone pushes my bard into the spider pit. This is where misty step wouldve been GREAT.

Shadowheart keeps missing and the dream voice tells me to try something different. So I shoot down the brazier to make her happy but it does zero damage to anyone.

I closed the doors before going in but that didnt change refreshments I mean....reinfircements lol running in. Eventually theres one spider left and the human guy whos shooting at me from the rafters.

Then as Im prepping Astarion for the climb, this guy with his 5hp falls an entire storey and has thr goddamn audacity to not take and falling damage. So hes at the bottom of the stairs and Astarions a bit above him. I tell Astarion to run up and stab him. Astarion runs for the ladder. Confused, I stop him and direct him to attack again. He climbs partway up the ladder and then sudddnly he's on the ground and the other guy is dead. I have no idea what happened but I did get the outcome I wanted.

This leaves my bard trapped in the spider pit with one spider and waning health. Everyones on around half or less. So its bard, shadowheart, astarion and karlach.

Bard keeps missing the spider and health is critical. Im getting voice lines to make sure I know hes at deaths door.

Now, because the game isnt great at showing different vertical levels directly stacked, and the spider has jumped up some distance, I assume its on a platform where maybe I can jump my way out. So I have karlach jump down to take some hits. Either way I have to get my bard out some non-magical way so maybe everyone joins him down there and we work it out. Regardless we gotta remove the spider threat.

So karlach jumps down. I hear the dice roll sound. Like ten to fifteen enemies roll into initiative. Ive made a critical error. The spider pit is even lower than I thought.

I consider if everyone can get into the pit and far enough away quickly enough I can teleport to camp. I direct karlach to jump into the pit. I am warned this will take 30 health off of her. (Bard lost about 17 being pushed I think. What is goibg on with this layer cake hideout? Nom).

I look at the 30 fall damage. I look at my bard too far away for feather fall to work. I look at my PCs on very little health. I look at the iniative order with fifteen people in it. I consider if I get into the pit anyway, Im not gonna be able to loot anyone.

And I loaded my save. And then I drcided I was done for the day.

I also forgot to specifically prep Shadowhearts spells to discover mid-fight that I only had the melee healing spell and the non-combat one.

Ive also not really been using the poisons and coatings and explosives and such cause I havent really needed to much. And Im loathe to use perishables in a game. Surely they exist to be saved forever for the opportune moment that never comes, right? But I think when I try the fight again Ill load up. Even Mithras wasnt as difficult, theres just so many 10hp pests.

RIP Mithras. Maybe Ill play as evil next time. I just couldnt condemn the grove. The tiefling bard girl on the clifftop was the purest joy Ive felt in this game. I did hope appearing to go along with Minthara would give me oppprtunity to send her in the wrong direction but I didnt find the right dialogue option, if it exists.

I also like the little sad stories sprinkled around. The dead guy on the beach with the letter from his lover about running away to baldurs gate. The half buried elf with the embroidered heart on his shoe. Ouch. My poor heart. I wanna go find all the victims families and make them safe.

Which reminds me I should check the meat I grabbed from the warg pens. It looked like pig but I should check what it says.

Oh I find it hilarious that theres a sausage weapon. Ill end on that note I think.

[cakejerry]

oh i agree i like annafeu's writing too, it's one of the best for sure. i mean it's not like that is such a great compliment given the cesspool that the jikook tag is, but you know. i only skimmed through her last fics since she got progressively worse, but when i got to the craziest parts i had to actually close the tab lol i'm not even squirmy like that i just my stomach hurts bc it's jimin she's talking about, fictional or not that's still his name and his personhood (i promise i'm not being dramatic her last fic is somehow even worse than whipworm). even if we set this aside, there's still no point in her stories. she and her clique and her minions always make it sound like she's doing some groundbreaking stuff when it's nothing but disturbing sexual abuse and some pretty words. idk if you're familiar with vmintie, she deleted all of her works a while ago. she used to write this kind of jimins too but when i tell you the plots she used to come up with, man there were actual world building, storytelling and character depth. she was the last one standing fr. now i either hate read or look longingly at other bts parings fics that i know i would eat up but can't bc it's not jikook 🤠

Ouu that's... I wasn't familiar with vmintie until I saw their insanely popular tweet about deleting all their fics (and immediately linking the google drive with them, attention whore -.-) with all the replies being like NOOOOOOOOOOOO and so I clicked through a few of them and literally DID NOT GIVE A FUCKKKKKKKKKKK sorry not sorry the longform plot filled bullshit will NEVER appeal to me, bitch at that point just go self publish on amazon kindle for ¢.99 a book wrdgaf

[solomonish]

What I Think Your Favorite Demon Brother Says About You

warning for deprecating and some nsfw humor. also this is all for the memes i doubt anybody fits all these boxes

Lucifer

every otome game you’ve ever played has a man that looks exactly like him. and you go for it. every. time.

no. i’m not joking. go into your otome memory databank and look at all the character you’ve romanced. that’s right, you black-haired red-eyed vampire loving bitch they’re all the same

speaking of: you say “oh haha sparkly vampires ew real vampires or horrifying creatures of the night” but you secretly want to be sucked dry by a vampire of the handsome sparkly sort

you are religious about ao3 fic tagging (as you should be)

you have looked into those websites where you sign up to be a sugar baby

Mammon

the childhood friend trope was not an option so you stuck with this

it takes exactly 76.6% of you ONE comfortable casual conversation for you to fall in love

You have what it takes to make several viral tiktoks. Not for your wit though they all end in you getting hurt

You don't know if you're going to/what you want to go for in college. Even if you're currently in college.

“you’re ALREADY annoyed with me?? Try having me in your head all the time forever!!”

20 million phone games because they bore you too easily and you forget to delete them

you’ve had to swear yourself off of amazon lest you spend every last dollar on sketchy finds

Leviathan

you’re either so familiar with psychological projection you’ve somehow morphed it’s meaning in your mind to something different entirely or you are not familiar with it at all

you (or your friends) know/knew the Russian national anthem and would frequently make the obligatory communism jokes high schoolers find so funny for some reason

you were the friend who openly admitted to their friends that you wrote fanfic

You kin

You had a google+ and used it regularly

Also a wattpad (and you still have a wattpad?)

You wish text signatures were still a thing

Satan

you are/will be the former gifted kid who burned out two years into their degree and are now/will be having an existential crisis for a solid few years

you believe in catboy supremacy

All of your OCs are/were "super quiet and shy but mess with her friends and she'll killies you!!!1!!1"

you secretly wish you had a reason to go somewhere nice and dress up

Scary good at mafia-style games

“your mind and your meat are huge”

if you ever take an ethics class you WILL be the person who lets it get to their head and won’t shut up about kantian ethics

[raises hand] if i may play devil’s advocate?

Asmodeus

you filter fics on ao3 by explicit only

you either spend 2 hours minimum getting ready in the morning or you don’t but you DO have a pinterest board full of outfits you’d spend 2 hours minimum getting ready in the morning for

Your shortcomings are the fault of your zodiac sign

You fell into the mustache pattern trend in like 2013

There is at least one social media site where you have/had over 1k followers

“here let me in the dressing room, I’ll help you change!”

someone asking you to zip up the back of their dress is the highest form of flattery and clasping a necklace on someone is the most romantic gesture in the world

you like high school musical

Beelzebub

you want a guy that’s sweet, a guy that’s tough, a feminist who likes to pay for stuff

crunching sounds are good ASMR for you

himbos are good for the soul (and while beel is not quite a himbo it’s close enough to count)

your courting process involves asking a significant other to crack a watermelon between their thighs

YES it is reasonable to go to walmart in your pjs at 1 am on a school night they have GUSHERS

if there is any type of ball within your vicinity you WILL pick it up and toss it up in the air aimlessly. this is not up for debate

tiddies (any gender) are best used for friends’ pillows (second best purpose: crumb catchers)

Belphegor

cMoN fUcK mE EmO bOy

you are told you cannot have something so you immediately need it (moreso than is to be expected)

you’ve used that one sad kaneki icon before

You torture your sims and only play to get a taste of what it feels like to be god

you secretly still like those black-and-white images with the borderline insensitive depression quotes

you’ve gotten in trouble for the stupid stuff you’ve looked up online for one reason or another

you would stick your hand in a lion’s cage just to pet the kitty

you definitely had a secret simon curtis phase

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 3 - F#$k the Police

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: What’s happening in Romania? For awhile you’ve had the best time with Bucky all to yourself, but now, it appears the world is not done with you two just yet.

Warning: tinge of fluff, violence, fighting, reader being a bad bitch, Bucky going through it, Steve metaphorically herding cats (Bucky, reader, T’Challa), some google translate (I hope its right)

Masterlist

Leaning against a telephone poll, you adjust your darkly tinted sunglasses before stuffing your hands back into your jacket pockets. Hood up and stance as casual as ever while you patiently await your dark haired lover, who at this moment happens to be purchasing some plump and juicy looking plums.

Doing his best to appear relatively unrecognizable, Bucky walks over to you in his usual faded ball-cap, layered jacket, and black gloves while you give him a nod of acknowledgment as he quickly approaches. Soon he’s by your side and the two you begin walking towards the street where you’ll be crossing.

“Y/N, you think these ones will taste good?” Wonders Bucky as he shifts his gaze to you for a wise answer, like you magically are able to tell if these random plums are sour or not.

You shrug, “Probably.”

He stares uncertainly down at the plums, “They were kind of sour last time.”

Throwing him a humored glance, you keep walking, “Did you tell her that? Maybe she would have given these ones to you for free.”

“Well.....no.”

Retrieving your dark tinted sunglasses from the bridge of your nose before shoving them in a pocket, you throw a glance back over at the plum cart, nudging Bucky, “I’ll steal some again and then we’ll compare what days they taste good and what days they taste bad. Maybe that will help out your plum dilemma.”

“You’ve stolen plums before?” Whispers Bucky in bewilderment like you just stabbed a guy in broad daylight, “Y/N.” He whines, “We can’t be stealing things! We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Rolling your amused eyes at his fearful concern over something so tiny, you playfully tug against his grey jacket, “Stealing some plums is the least unlawful thing I have ever done moya lyubov' now come on.” You muse with a reassuring grin.

Wanting to protest, he chooses against it when he hears you call him my love in Russian; that’s new, he think warmly, you’ve never said anything that deeply intimate before. He could certainly get used to it.

Coming to a halt, the two of you patiently wait for the roadway to clear up, but while you’re standing there in the open, you skillfully take notice of some man in his mid thirties with a half eaten lollipop positioned in his right hand. He leans against the counter from behind a newspaper stand, where two curious greyish blue eyes give yourself and then Bucky a wary look as he begins to squint suspiciously. Soon his gaze trails over you both again like he’s trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle, but can’t quite tell just yet which piece goes next. How odd, you think.

“Nothing is ever odd, there is reason for everyone’s intricate behavior, always be on guard.” Speaks a whisper from your past days training with Hydra.

Glancing over to Bucky, you notice as he starts to appear rather uncomfortable since he’s realized the stranger is staring. What a nosy little weasel, why would he give a shit about us? Tugging on his sleeve, you begin taking the lead across the four-way, the weaselly looking mans eyes go wide in genuine fear as he turns and books it out of the booth like a bat out of hell. Racing past annoyed civilians as they go about their normal business.

Brows furrowed in confusion you hastily reach the newspaper stand and flip a paper around only to be greeted with greatly troubling words printed aggressively in big black letters reading...

 -WINTER SOLDIER CÂUTAT PENTRU BOMBARDMENTUL DIN VIENNA- 

...with a blurred security footage picture of Bucky’s shadowed face walking suspiciously by a white van in presumably a parking garage.

On further inspection lower down the page, you take notice of the alarming words below, translating to...

 -On international watchlist; Possible accomplice suggested at place of crime, Y/N Valerious is being investigated into for feasible involvement with one credited for bombing. Investigators advise great caution if seen and require a report immediately upon recognition.-

Paired with a blurred fuzzy head shot taken from CCT footage in 1997 after you sliced your way through a notorious drug cartel in Colombia.

Shit. And how the fuck did they find that picture?

Bucky quickly rips it out of your hands and stares frustratingly at the parchment, eyes focused on the concerning news as he flickers his attention back down at you, “Y/N?” He mutters uncertainly, face appearing increasingly distraught as he looks to you for an answer.

Glancing warily around the crowded area, you swallow nervously before finding his uneasy gaze once again, “I really need to stop speaking ahead of myself....fuck.....we need to leave.” You urge, tugging on his arm to move, you let go as the two of you head back to your shared apartment.

Eyes glancing warily around you the whole way there.

——

Walking quickly up the steps, you suddenly catch the scent of an unknown man leading right into the cracked door of your apartment, Bucky halts as you remain still as stone, nose crinkling as you test the air.

“Y/N?” He whispers unsurely as you shush him.

Sensing this stranger isn’t here to fight due to the lack of aggressor pheromones extruding from out of his system, you both cautiously walk into the room, on guard as you move more silently then an owl in flight, he doesn’t hear a thing. Quickly you visually analyze a tall man in dark blue with a helmet tightly fitted against his head, standing relatively still with his back turned to you two. A familiar shield held strongly from his left forearm as his head looks down at the journal positioned in his right hand. 

Bucky’s journal.

Standing defensively side by side with Bucky, the uniformed man suddenly turns around; his eyes are a dark ocean, yet soft and set; a faded white A sits just above his eyes and a dull white star appears in the center chest area of his stealth suit. This is without a failing doubt Captain America, but what does he want with you two? 

Breathing steadily he gives the two of you a once over before focusing on Bucky, “Do you know me?” He asks, voice calm and collected. Not an ounce of aggression.

Your eyes flicker cautiously from Bucky then back to the stranger as he takes a slow breath, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

[They’ve set the perimeter] -speaks a disembodied voice from Steve’s earpiece, only yourself and Steve are able to pick it up.

What the fuck does that mean?

The American sets Bucky’s journal onto the kitchen table as he shifts in place, your fists instinctively clench in preparation for a possible clash as Steve’s perceptive gaze shifts warily from your hands up to your watchful glare; he must know about you, “I’m not here to fight.” Confirms Steve with a small nod before turning to Bucky, “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna, we both weren’t. I don’t do that anymore.” Mumbles Bucky truthfully, you’ve been with him for months now and neither of you have even left the city so how the hell did his blurry photo get printed onto the daily newspaper?

[They’re entering the building.] -speaks the voice.

Steve takes an urgent yet cautious step forward, clearly something terrible is about to go down for the three of you, if the guy on the ear piece wasn’t telling enough, “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. For both of you. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.” Warns Steve sincerely, voice steady and true.

Bucky’s lips nervously purse together as he mutters unenthusiastically, “That’s smart. Good strategy.”

[They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.]- says the voice, more urgently this time.

Suddenly your ears pick up the sounds of heavy boots as they pound against the large spiraled staircase, squeezing your eyes shut in irritated anticipation, you open them to face the soldier, “Well this is fucking fantastic.” You seethe through clenched teeth, accent dripping strong as you shake your head in frustration.

Steve gives the two of you a pleading look, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” He urges as you both stand like a nervous predator, unsure if their prey is going to put up a deadly brawl to the death or not.

Giving him a hooded grimace, your eyes shift from the front door then back to him as you begrudgingly mutter, “It always ends in a fight.”

Looking away, he nods towards Bucky, “You pulled me from the river.” Starts Steve as Bucky hastily removes the black glove covering his metal arm, “Why?”

Bucky huffs, reluctant eyes dancing over to Steve’s, “I don’t know.”

[Three seconds!]- says the voice.

“Yes, you do.”

[Breach! Breach! Breach!]

Yells the voice frantically just as the left window shatters as some can sized metal bomb crashes onto the floor, the three of you immediately turn towards the harmful object right as Bucky kicks it, Steve coming to the rescue as he covers the bomb with his shield. Boom! It goes off, leaving everyone to live another day, or at least for the next minute.

A second later you hear insistent shouting in German just as Bucky grabs the mattress, he shields himself with it as his other hand pulls you to his chest protectively just as a destructively lesser bomb ignites against it from the now broken window.

Pulling out of his grasp, Bucky tosses it aside before kicking the small kitchen table where it lodges itself tightly against the front door. Turning towards the two windows positioned on your right, you’re immediately greeted with the breaking of glass as two heavily equipped combat police burst rudely into the room, heavily armored in tactical gear and ready to kill.

Well, shit.

At an inhuman speed you swiftly grab the first mans gun and point the steel barrel upwards just as he shoots, avoiding killing Bucky if you were a second late; your eyes turn angry as you swing your fist, knocking him unconscious from your blow to his helmet.

The second man shoots a line of bullets that scream angrily into the ceiling when Steve thrusts his gun away from you two, knocking him out in the process. Immediately another soldier breaks into the room from the bathroom door by Steve, gun at the ready as Steve shoves his weapon to the side where Bucky then harshly kicks him in the chest. Sending the intruding soldier into the bathroom, presumably with a hefty concussion.

But before Bucky is able to continue onward, Steve quickly grabs his arm, “Buck, stop!” Instantly he twists out of Steve’s grasp, giving his old friend a deadly glare, “You’re gonna kill someone. Both of you!” He snaps, stormy eyes shifting from you to Bucky just as your Winter Soldier shoves him to the ground by his collar before lunching his metal arm violently into the floorboards right next to his head.

Glaring at Steve, he growls, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Before pulling his arm out of the broken wood, travel backpack in hand; he stands and immediately throws it out the broken window about ten stories onto another rooftop below.

Standing in the middle of the ruined apartment as you face them, another soldier crashes through the broken window to your left, Bucky and Steve brace for the worst as the man pauses for a moment, gun facing the floor. Moving swiftly, you quickly unsheathe your razor sharp Adamantium claws out of your right fist before cleanly slicing his weapon into three consecutive pieces.

Shouldn’t have hesitated fucker.

The broken gun clashes to the floor as the soldiers eyes flash with fear before you roughly push him against the wall, grimacing in anger, right hook cocked back as you suddenly thrust a clawed fist directly into his shoulder. He lets out a pained gravelly scream as you pull away to face Bucky and a wide eyed Steve, the injured soldier sliding down the wall to the floor as he applies pressure on his newly bleeding wound.

A second later two more men come racing into the room as your victim slumps to the side once you kick him in the head, unconscious but still breathing as small drops of blood seep out of his affected shoulder. He’s someone else’s problem now.

Steve raises his shield as bullets deflect off the metal, soon Bucky throws his metal arm up; deflecting multiple bullets as Steve takes out a guy on the balcony. Bucky in the meantime has managed to knock the gunman out with a cement brick as you retract your claws back into your fist.

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

Pounds loudly against the locked front door as bullets crash into the hinges, soon Bucky races for the thin wood and thrusts his metal fist into the door without a second thought. Seconds later he breaks down the door, knocking out two guys in the process as you slip past him and into the long staircase hallway that only goes in two consecutive directions, up or down.

Shit, more are coming up the stairs!

A soldier promptly breaks through the overhead glass window from the roof and ascends on a thick black rope, shooting at Bucky who easily deflects his bullets before you kick the man into the wall, knocking him out instantly. Body limp and peaceful as he hangs suspended mid-air in the center of the rounded stairwell, you quickly look down to witness the tiny army of combat police hellbent on ruining your perfectly fine day. 

Well, not much of a fine day anymore.

Without time to process much, you watch as more soldiers charge up the stairs, guns ready to fire; suddenly Bucky jumps on the knocked out man hanging from the ceiling and falls to the next landing below as he uses the unconscious soldier for a sort of pully system, knocking out more police as they try and fight him off once he lands.

Blinking, you jump down without assistance but your own fearsome willpower before shoving a guy down the stairs, who conveniently trips up others in the process. But at least eight more are racing to finish their job, right on cue another soldier meets on your landing as Bucky fights off one from behind you.

Before he’s even able to pull the trigger, you’ve sliced his weapon in half, kicking him harshly into the wall, doing the same to his friend as you fight your way along the staircase, skillfully avoiding bullets and fists alike. 

Turning around to the sounds of Bucky grunting, your eyes trail up and watch as he throws a man over the edge of the railing. But before anything bloody happens, Steve swiftly catches his dark collar much to your disappointment. He then heroically throws the man elsewhere as the fighting starts up again.

Soon Bucky nearly gets his lights knocked out as an armored gloved mitt comes flying for the back of his head; your fist however, breaks the guys jaw with a loud crack as you save your lover from an unfortunate injury. Bucky then gives you a quick nod of silent appreciation before you look up the staircase to see a disappointed Steve. oh, fuck off.

Huffing in irritation, you nudge Bucky to make a swift exit out of here; heeding to your urgent request he knocks another guy out before jumping down a multitude flight of stairs, grabbing onto the closest railing and tearing it back with a pained cry as he uses it to maneuver himself onto the landing.

Alright, time to go.

Breaking a soldiers arm, you proceed to do the same; arriving roughly on the cement landing as you skillfully tuck and roll before jumping up into a standing position and taking a moment to watch as Bucky races down the hallway before jumping off the corridor balcony.

Taking a deep breath in preparation for the jump to come, you book it down the same hallway and soon are free falling while quickly headed for the rooftop below. The damn roof ledge comes faster then you’d anticipated; landing hard against the protruding edge, you grunt in pain before rolling across the roof a couple feet while Bucky picks up his backpack mid run.

With no time to dwell on the burning ache in your shoulder, you push yourself from the ground as you race to catch up with Bucky who’s a good ten feet from you by now. He listens as you grumble a string of incomprehensible swears in displeasured Russian, but keeps running forward as he knows you’ll be right behind him in an instant.

Boots smacking hard against the rooftop cement, you’re almost caught up with Bucky when without so much as a warning does a dark silent shadow appear in your line of sight from directly above you, a second later you’re forcibly thrown into one of the metal conditioning system units, eyes wide and head in a daze. Only to be greeted with a man dressed in a black catlike stealth suit of some strange armor, where he soon begins hand to hand combat with Bucky.

Fuck that hurt. Asshole, you growl miserably.

Bucky dodges and throws skilled yet desperate punches at the mystery individual, although neither of them appear to take any real damage, fortunately for Bucky’s dwindling safety, but not for this other guy. Shaking the fuzziness out of your head, and ignoring the small trickle of blood leaving a red stain from the side of your temple, you hastily jump to your feet and charge the armored bastard as he throws Bucky into another conditioner unit.

Making a clean dent in the thin metal, Bucky’s eyes widen in genuine fear as the angry panther brings his shimmering silver clawed hand into the air, ready to strike. Cornered, Bucky braces for the worst with his metal arm blocking his face just as you seize the panthers forearm.

He abruptly turns his armored head towards you, and is thus kindly greeted with a swift punch to the face that sends him rolling across the rooftop a couple feet away from you and Bucky. Tumbling for a moment, he instantly regains his footing while silver colored claws slash thin sparking lines of gold across the cement as he stops dead in a predatory crouched position.

Well, now he really looks unhappy.

Bucky watches as the panther slowly rises to his feet, looking rather angered by your violent intrusion; breathing heavily, you stare down the fucker before a slow ‘shling’ sounds from out of your clenched fists. The panthers head tilts curiously, closely resembling that of an actual feline as he witnesses a total of six razor sharp claws protruding dangerously in the sunlight.

“Alright. Now we’re even.” You growl darkly as the panther charges for an attack, within seconds yours claws clash violently against his armor as he swipes for an opening to cause some real damage.

Bucky rises to his feet as he watches you and the panther fight like old enemies, sparks fly like confetti as your claws slash against his strange suit while the two of you dance in a rhythmic warriors tango, strangely on the rooftop of some Romanian hotel while Steve remains elsewhere for the time being. 

Anticipating another blow from you, the panther blocks it and finally gets a clean shot of your face, soon you’re on the ground in a blurry daze before shaking your head while you rise to your hands and knees. Okay fuck this guy.

Drops of ruby red blood patter onto the cement as your face turns into a pissed off scowl, both the panther and Bucky watch in anticipation as you dramatically turn around to face them. Three clean slashes mark deep from your right hairline, across your cheek, where finally it relents at the base of your jaw.

You sneer in vexation as your skin fuses ripped muscle and blood vessels back together in a matter of seconds, then without warning does a helicopter appear from above where it rudely begins raining bullets onto the three of you.

Fuck this.

Luckily the artillery is deflected away from Bucky as it hits the panther first, unluckily for you, a couple strays vigorously drag themselves in and out of your shoulder and torso. A sharp white hot paint rips through your vessel causing your legs to buckle, falling to the ground, you instantly scream out in agony when the unpleasant sensation fully registers in your brain, as Bucky’s face turns to worry then anger.

Soon the bullets stop as the helicopter gets pushed off course by some man in a bird suit. Well today really couldn’t be any weirder, what’s next Ironman? You sarcastically think before reluctantly forcing yourself onto your feet only to be welcomed by the worried face of Bucky as he grabs your bleary attention, “Let’s go, we could make it to the underpass.” Affirms Bucky as your strength comes to you once again, muscles fusing back together, the pain fading swiftly.

“Yeah, fuck this.” You retort as he turns and swiftly jumps off the roof and onto another ledge below a you do the same, claws slashing down the buildings side as you do so. But all too soon are you greeted by the metal on metal screeching of the panthers claws as he slides down the side of the same apartment building, closer then you’d like. “Fuck.” You mutter, deeply irritated by this dickhead who won’t give either of you a break.

Not wanting to face the wrath of his shiny sharp claws, you quickly retract yours before you and Bucky instantly turn and jump the rest of the way down, landing skillfully onto the grey sidewalk below before booking it out of there as the panther aggressively chases onward. Steve not far behind, though you don’t care nor have the time to look.

Racing across the city road, bullets fly by the two of you as the opening to the cities subterranean underpass greets you with open arms. Shuffling past some small bushes, Bucky jumps down first, you right behind him as your world turns into a hasty blur. Soon everything comes to an abrupt halt once your boots smack hard against the surface of the roads blacktop.

The sounds of angry car horns blare loudly in your ears as a couple vehicles swerve to the side, just narrowly missing yourself and Bucky, “Come on!” You shout urgently before twisting around and booking it down the underpass with Bucky close behind.

Running at an inhuman speed, you pass cars and trucks alike as they swerve to avoid the two of you, about fifteen seconds later you’re greeted to the all to familiar whirring sounds noisily emitting from the local police cruisers as they hastily follow yourself, Bucky, Steve, and the panther across the highway tunnel.

“Ugh, move!” You snap in irritation before deciding to jump up and run across a green convertible, Bucky almost smiling as he races on the blacktop next to you, continuing onward as you land and race for safety or cover or anywhere away from this mess.

“Left!” Shouts Bucky as you both reach the area where the two huge lanes split from right to left, noticing the sirens coming down from the right lane, you don’t think twice as he practically pulls you in the opposite direction. Left lane it is.

This time traffic races towards you which makes maneuvering in this fucking tunnel even that much more difficult. Your boots clash against the hard ground as Bucky suddenly eyes up an approaching motorcycle, he is not.

As the motorbike comes into about five feet of him, Bucky grabs onto the handles, pushing the guy off while he does an impressive one-eighty before throwing a leg over to straddle the bike as he now points it in the direction of the traffic flow. Not wasting a precious second longer, do you swiftly jump on, throwing your arms around his strong waist for some bit of safety.

The bike instantly growls and groans in protest as Bucky focuses on getting the two of you the fuck out of there; cars fly by in a blur as the wind aggressively whips back your hair, only causing you to hold on tighter as Bucky races down the underpass’s road. Sirens and police speeding not far behind. The constant sound of their sirens just about driving you insane.

Without so much as a warning, your peaceful ride is rudely interrupted when the panther jumps off a car and makes a beeline for your body. Bucky’s flesh hand is around the panthers throat in a second as you lower yourself out of the way. In reply, the panther suddenly twists his body and runs a couple feet on the side of the tunnels wall and low cut ceiling before Bucky tries to throw him down by his throat.

Unfortunately this causes the motorcycle to shift left; dangerously close to the racing ground, he lets go of the panther and switches hands on the handles so he can avoid losing control completely. Metal fingers scrape across the cement creating glowing sparks of angry fiery flickers as the panther holds onto your jacket and the back of the motorcycle for dear life.

Not appreciating this in the slightest, you instinctively begin unsheathing your right claws that are positioned across your lap; you bend low, face pressed against Bucky before twisting the best you can and swiping the panther off of you and onto the harsh ground below. You don’t care to look back as Bucky pushes his metal hand off the ground, finally at last stabilizing the motorbike. Hitting the gas harder, it flies down the road as you swiftly retract your claws back into your knuckles.

“Y/N are you okay!” Shouts Bucky as you tighten your hold from behind, face pressed against his back as you listen to the sirens hastily approaching in the distance.

Gifting him a squeeze of reassurance, you give him a light kiss though he doesn’t feel it, “I could honestly be better!”

Bucky shows the ghost of a smile as he whirs the bike into submission, soon more wind swirls past your face as he pulls something out of his pocket and throw it against the roof of the tunnel where it sticks, blinking red.

Boom! Crash! Down goes a multitude of cement ceiling and destructively onto the freeway, effectively creating a blocker against the panther, Steve, and the Romanian police.

Smiling into his back, you mentally praise him for keeping some of the Hydra weaponry at hand. Until you’re roughly pulled from the bike by the fucking panther himself. Who even is this guy?

And how did he....

Yelping in surprise, you grasp onto Bucky’s backpack for all it’s worth, successfully managing to drag him down with you. The grey tiled street of the tunnel hits against your body harder then you’d like, but nonetheless you take the beating like a champ as you tumble harshly against the ground.

You and the ground are really getting to know each other today.

The panther doing the same from behind you while Bucky rolls awkwardly across the floor like an angry stiff log of dark flowing hair and concealed muscle. While trying to stop yourself from clashing around any further, you quickly regain your bearings in time to block Bucky from getting his throat cut out by the panther who’s on him in an instant.

With your claws bared and shimmering in the light of the protruding sun from the tunnels giant observatory opening, you’re quickly stopped by Steve as he races past you and tackles the panther to the ground by his waist.

Your little violet adventure coming to a messy end, when the panther stands defiantly a couple feet away from the three of you who by now have risen to your feet. Police lights flash from behind him as more surround the four of you instantaneously from on all sides, well shit, this doesn’t look good.

Your frantic eyes shift all around you as your world comes to a crashing halt, a helicopter flies over head, and in this moment you want nothing more then to slash your way out of this one. But you’re trapped.

You stand to Bucky’s immediate right as Steve stands to his left, hands out protectively as you glare at the officers in front of you, neither you nor Bucky speaking a word as you take in heavy breaths from your hefty sprinting session. Suddenly the notorious War Machine lands with a dramatically heavy thud onto the road in front of you, shoulder gun and hand blasters raised as he looks between the three of you.

Well at least it’s not actually Ironman. Right?

“Stand down, now.” Commands War Machine as you throw him a resistant look of pure daggers, hatred and fury flashing across your face as you clench your fists.

Obeying the authoritative command, Steve puts his shield away, latching it to his back as you begrudgingly retract your silver tinted claws back into your forearms with the usual shling sounding as you do so.

“Congratulations, Cap.” Verbally applauds War Machine, voice clearly sarcastic, “You’re a criminal.”

Moments later the Romanian police fully surround you all, guns at the ready; you’re harshly pushed to the ground by angry gloved hands that take captive of your arms and wrists as they pin your stomach to the earth.

“ot"yebis', tupyye pizdy!” You mumble angrily in Russian as the Romanian special task officers hold you like a wounded beast, your actual words translating to “fuck off, you stupid cunts” though they’re none the wiser to your heated threats.

Your chin scrapes against the cement tiles as your hands are pressed against your back, tied instantly as you strain your head to look up. The panther retracts his catlike claws before unclasping his helmet to reveal the troubled face of a dark skinned man; brows furrowing in confusion you suddenly realize who he is when War Machine says, “Your Highness.”

Grimacing in agitation, you can’t help but let out a string of curses aimed crudely at the Wakandian prince and many of the officers in question, half of your verbal abuse a mix of both English and your mother tongue. Soon an officer lightly kicks your side as you send him a deadly glare that causes him to take a cautious step back.

Though to relieve himself of his high authority once more, he gathers some of his men's attention by pointing down at you, “Muzzle this one.” He commands diligently as you squirm in protest, your face a mask of pure rage while Bucky keeps a steady frustrated gaze with the ground. His heart breaking for how they’re treating the two of you, but most importantly how they’re dealing with you.

If not for the current situation, you could have actually laughed; well now, aren’t you quite royally fucked.

-

Tagged: @minigranger​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​ @diegos-butt

[mj-spooks]

The Legend of Vox Machina E3 Thoughts LET’S GOOOOO

Once again I have next to no knowledge of Critical Role aside from scant tumblr gifs and posts and two friends who cosplay Vex and Vax so STRAP IN

- Last ep ended w Lord Briarwood FUCKING UP SOME BANDITS on his way to a banquet that the party will be at so. I’m sure. This will be. Fun.

- Oh no we’re starting with a Happy Family Flashback. That bodes ill.

-  WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

- So I’m guessing this will be A Percy Episode which is exciting bc Predictable Character Preferences and gifs tell me that he’s going to be my favorite but he’s done and said so little thus far that I haven’t gotten to enjoy him

- He’ll have to unseat Grog which will be no easy task as we are now Sandwich Buddies.

- IT’S THE MASK THERE’S THE MASK

- “Bad dream” “Are there any other kind” OUCH MY SOUL

- Keyleth we can’t be friends anymore you’re entirely too cheerful in the morning

- “Maybe you should cut loose once in a while” based on what I do know I feel like this. perhaps. advice that he will not follow in a manner you would prefer.

- Lady Allura simply cannot be arsed and honestly? inspirational.

- Perc you nerd

- PERC YOU NERD

- Do they have other clothes I feel like fancy party means they need other clothes

- Percy sir do not write checks you cannot cash

- Oh good they do have other clothes.

- On the other hand though, rainbow codpiece.

- Scanlan, never change.

- Pike and Grog’s friendship is something that can honestly be so personal?

- DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN

- “My safeword’s ‘mommy’“ ‘scuse me while I re-evaluate some preconceived notions about Scanlan’s bedroom activities.

- OH AND HE HAS TO SIT ACROSS FROM THEM. BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. GREAT.

- “Grog no” GROG YES LISTEN TO HIM HE HAS GREAT ADVICE

- Fancy party Vax do be lookin kinda fine tho

- SNAKE BELT SNAKE BELT YESSSSSS I LOVE IT

- “They say no one comes in or out” Jack Sparrow then where to the stories come from I wonder dot gif

- “Hm why does Uriel’s voice sound so familiar” *googles* KING EZEKIEL?!

- hypnotizing mother fuckers. natch.

- SCANLAN NOBODY WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR BEADS

- Oh this bitch.

- NO REFLECTION IS THIS MOTHER FUCKER A VAMPIRE

- vaxplzgetoutofthere

- w e l l s h i t

- Scanlan please no

- FUCKING V A M P I R E

- Matt Mercer NPC just can’t catch a break ever can he

- “No one kills Vax but me” oh Grog you say the sweetest things

- ah yes the ole ‘sword absorbs blood and becomes stronger’ trope. love it.

- That “I had them” has big “His throat was bare beneath my hand/His throat was there and now he’ll never come again” vibes

- Uh Percy babe y’all were ALL getting your asses kicked and you’re like, the LEAST injured from that fight so, maybe don’t yell at Keyleth :P

- OH. OH HO HO.

- The line between “Don’t yell at Keyleth” and “LOL YES BECOME POSSESSED BY DARKNESS AND FUCK THAT RANDOM SERVANT UP” is certainly there but do I know where it is? Nope.

- Ah dangit Uriel. I mean it’s probably good that you showed up but also dangit Uriel.

-  Arrested tho. Damn lol sucks for VM.

[elocinnicole]

Not Dating. Just Friends

Summary: Shauna’s apartment has a plumbing issue and has to stay somewhere until it’s fixed

Pairing: Collin Hoskins x OFC Black!Reader (Shauna Lewis)[mentioned mainly] Rating: M for language 18+ MINORS DNI This is set between the events of the movie and the show Blindspotting

Shauna knew she wasn’t tripping when she felt droplets of water hit her face. She looked up at her ceiling and saw a small puddle forming. When she got off her bed to investigate that’s when the floodgates opened and water rushed down onto her brand new bed set.

“FUCK!” Shauna called out

“We’re sorry, our toilet was overflowing,” a person said from a hole, yes, a hole, in Shauna’s ceiling

“Shut the fuck up!” Shauna yelled back, how can someone’s toilet overflow that much and they not notice it.

“Wow, a waterfall!!!!” Zan said from behind Shauna, he rushed forward eager to play in the water, knowing her son, she scooped him up

“Don’t play in the water baby, it’s not clean.”

“Aw,” He pouted

"We’re really sorry, we didn’t know--” The neighbor above started to say 

“I really need you to, SHUT UP!”

Of course, it was just Shauna’s luck that she left her phone on the bed when the water came through, so she was left without a phone. Shauna knocked loudly on the front door of Rainey’s house, hopping her pounding was heard over the bass of the music. She had stopped by Ashley and Miles earlier but when no one answered she came over here. She shifted her weight, Zan fell asleep on the car ride over, and not wanting to wake him she carried him up to the door. After a few minutes, she was about to go to her mom’s hopefully she was back in town. She couldn’t remember if she came back from visiting your aunt tonight or tomorrow morning, without a working phone she couldn’t call anybody. Just as Shauna was about to go back to her car, the door swung open, letting out a breath of relief, she was happy to see a familiar face.

“Shauna?”

“Shit, Ash, can we come in please?”

“Uh, yeah, how did you know we were here?”

“I went to your place first but y’all didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, we came over for Rainey’s birthday. Miles just left to pick up her and Nancy from the club. What the hell is going on?” Ashley asked allowing them into the house

“Fuckin neighbor above me toilet was overflowing and now there’s poop water in my damn apartment.”

“What the fuck?”

“ Right? My phone got fucked up so I couldn’t call before I came over and I need—”

“Shauna, go put Zan in the bed with Sean. Then come down to the kitchen, we taking shots. Sounds like you need one,”

“Shiiit, I need the whole damn bottle.”

After putting Zan to bed Shauna came back down to see Ash, Miles’ sister, Trish, and Janelle, Collin’s sister. She met her a few weeks ago when Collin invited her over for a small cookout.

“You look like shit Shauna,” Trish said in true Trish fashion

“Damn Trish I just told you she got a lot of bull shit going on at her house.” Ash scolded

“It’s cool Ash, remember that shit the next time you wanna schedule a last-minute appointment. Imma let Kia do your hair the next time and she gonna fuck up your edges.” Shauna snapped she grabbed the first available shot glass and downed it

“First of all, that was my damn shot and second, I was just playin, Shauna, damn lighten up bitch.”

“I got a fuckin’ huge ass hole in my apartment and my shit is ruined, and I just paid off that fucking bed set. DAMN!” Janelle quickly poured Shauna another shot which she eagerly took

“That was a nice ass bed set too,” Ashley commented

“Wasn’t it? It lit up and shit, did y’all bitches know that shit had drawers in the front too?!”

“Where you get yo set from? I’m trying find a new bed for when I move out.” Shauna glared at Janelle who held up her hands in defense

“Just like boogie bitches today don’t wanna tell nobody where they get they shit from. I’ll just google the shit myself, ain’t that hard. What color was that set?”

“Janelle!” Ashley said nudging her friend

“What?”

“I don’t know what Imma do, this is the last thing I needed right now. I know they gonna pay for it but, the rent’s been getting higher, Zan’s Dad hasn’t paid child support in months, it ain’t like he broke, the nigga just went on a trip to Vegas. This was just the last thing I needed on my plate.”

“Well, of course, you know you guys are welcome here, it’s gonna be a little tight but we’ll make the room.”

“So you just offering up rooms here like we a fucking boarding house?” Trish added, Ashley ignored her, she learned a long time ago sometimes you just had to ignore Trish.

“Like I said, you guys are welcome here.”

“Ashley, you’re the best but I don’t wanna be a burden. Zan can stay here but I can stay at my Mom’s.”

“That’s all the way across town, how the hell you gonna get Zan to school?”

“Maybe I’ll let Zan stay with his dad I mean he’s been asking about spending-”

“No, Shauna stay your ass here. We’ll find room for you.”

“Shauna, you can stay at my place, you’ll be right next door to Zan. It’ll be easier for you to get him to school and to work.” Janelle offered, you sighed heavily you really weren’t in the position to deny help. “You can sleep on the couch.”

“Fine, thanks, Janelle.”

“Of course, besides I would like be a bitch if I didn’t let my brother’s girlfriend stay at our house.” You blushed when Janelle mentioned ‘girlfriend’, you and Collin weren’t officially dating but the two of you were spending a lot of time together ever since Ashley set the two of you up.

“Not his girlfriend yet, we just friends.”

“Girl bye, y’all more than friends, I saw that sneaky link that other day,” Trish teased

“What sneaky link?” Janelle exclaimed looking at you

“Bitch so I was outside with Jackie and I seen Collin come outside and I ain't really think much of it. I thought the nigga was gonna roll up, but then I seen this bitch pull up and she got on an oversized hoodie and some UGG slides. Bitch, I know what a sneaky link look like.”

“Okay, it’s not a sneaky link, and we not dating, we’re just friends.”

“Bitch, whatever, it was a fucking sneaky link.”

“How the hell I ain’t hear y’all? Collin room is right next to mine.”

“Y’all wasn’t home,” Shauna mumbled

“Where was Zan?” Ashley questioned

“With his Dad,”

“Bitch, you did not drop your baby off just to get some dick.”

“First of all, he was already over there, and what if I did? Shit, I need some too.”

“Alright, can we not talk about my brother’s dick,”

“Like you ain’t never had a sneaky link with Jaylen,” Ashley teased

“Jaylen?! Corner store Jaylen?” Shauna exclaimed

“Nah, see we ain’t talkin about that,”

“The fuck we not, bitch when this happen?”

“A few times, that’s it,” Janelle said vaguely

“Un uh, bitch I seen Jaylen car outside your house more than a few times. Don’t play,” Trish added

“Damn, Trish what about your sneaky links since you know about everyone else’s?” Ashley asked

“I don’t do sneaky links.”

“Bitch bye, Ash thank you for keeping Zan, if he get too much I’ll call his Dad and he can come get him.”

“Shauna, it’s cool. You know Sean loves playing with Zan, I got you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you’re my last appointment, thanks again.” Shauna turned to look at Janelle “You stayin?”

“Yeah, you can head over, Collin should be there.”

“Oh see, you can get some pick me up dick.” Trish joked, Shauna flipped her off before saying bye to every and leaving Rainey’s

Shauna walked over next door to Collin’s and knocked on the door a few times. The door opened to reveal a confused Collin, he must’ve been sleeping because it looked like he was still trying to open his eyes up all the way.

“Shauna? What’s goin on, everything good?”

“Uh, no. I just came from Rainey’s there’s a leak at my place and I had to find somewhere to stay. Janelle said I could stay here while my place gets fixed.”

“Damn, that’s fucked up, come in.” Things were still kinda new between the two of you, it had only been a month since your first date.

“You can sleep with me—shit, I mean if you want to, not that you have to. If you don’t want to then you don’t have to sleep in my room—”

“It’s cool, Janelle said I can take the couch.”

“Do you need something to change into?”

“Yeah, I got clothes in my car but I don’t feel like going back out there. I honestly want to lay down.”

“Aight, I’ll get you somethin’, uh, there are pillows and blankets in the living room. It’s that big ass cushion in the middle of the floor.”

“You mean an ottoman?” Shauna teased

“Haha funny, yeah. I’ll be back.”

“You were in the middle of transforming the couch into a bed when Collin returned with one of his Oakland t-shirts.

“You giving me a Town shirt?”

“Don’t act brand new, I already know you been stealin’ my shirts.”

“I don’t steal, I need something to wear because somebody has been ripping up all my shit,”

“Maybe you should come over no clothes next time,” Collin smirked

“Nigga, bye.” Shauna started to take off her clothes and Collin adverted his eyes not to seem disrespectful for staring

“You don’t have to look away, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Shauna said, slipping the shirt that was basically a dress on her onto her body. She sat down on the sofa and started to get comfortable,

“Can you sit with me for a little bit? If you don’t want to then—”

“Nah, it’s cool. You want to put on a movie?”

“We can, I might fall asleep. I got an early hair appointment tomorrow.” Collin sat beside Shauna and they cuddled up to one another

“When you gonna braid my hair?”

“Nigga, you gotta make an appointment, I book up fast.”

“Aw, you gonna make me book an appointment.”

“You are not an exception, you gonna have to book like everyone else and hope that I’m available.”

“Well, I’m different than your other clients?” Shauna hummed in response

“How so?”

“I think your clients have a different form of ‘payment’ than I do,” Collin said his voice getting lower,

“Oh really, and what kind of payment you got?”

“Imma give you that happy ending,” Shauna snorted and playfully slapped his chest.

“That’s not how it goes, stupid,” The front door opens and they can hear Nancy laughing loudly

“Bye, Rainey!” Nancy shouted walking into her home “Don’t flash nobody else!” Nancy walked into the living room and stopped upon seeing Shauna and Collin on the couch. They couldn’t help it, but Collin and Shauna felt like a couple of teenagers that had just been caught kissing by their parents.

“I don’t care what you do, just don’t fuck on my brand new throws. Use the old ones.” Nancy said as she walked to her room.

“Ma!” Collin whined

“Collin, I’m well aware when Shauna comes over for whatever the hell y’all call it now. Hi Shauna!”

“Hey, Nancy,”

“Don’t fuck on my new shit, don’t touch my apple juice, and we good. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Collin and Shauna said in unison

“You should probably get some sleep, don’t you have work in the morning?” Collin suggested

“Yeah, and I have to leave earlier Zan’s a little farther away from school. Thanks for sitting with me.”

“It’s good, Imma go lay down,” Collin moved to get up but Shauna grabbed his arm

“Or, you can stay a little longer?” Collin smiled softly and got comfortable. They talked for a few more minutes, Shauna was the first to go to sleep, Collin smirked at her soft snore. She would probably be embarrassed that Collin knew that she snored but he found it cute. Collin pressed a kiss to her forehead before he too drifted off to sleep.

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!!

Tagging: @nikole-witha-k  @iknowthekoolaidflavor @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs​

[ktheist]

04 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.9k

➙ warnings. angst

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ warnings. explicit content. smut. 

➙ synopsis. 

“you wanna say goodbye?”

“yes, i would love to say goodbye.”

x

one second, you’re exiled from taehyung’s room and the next, you’re under lockdown in the same exact room you were forbidden to enter. 

the boy who always made a fuss about cleaning up - cleans up his mess without a single complaint. you thought he’d come knocking on the (his) door and ask for your help but after an hour of twiddling your thumbs and swaying your feet in the air, kim taehyung finally walks in with beads of sweat on his forehead and that ugly stain of a vomit on  his shirt.

he pulls it over his head and tosses it into the laundry before pulling a fresh mickey mouse printed shirt and slips into bed. the temptation to text jeongguk or hoseok or jimin to pick you up has never been stronger but you bite the inside of your cheek, lay out the futon and turn off the lights.

“good night, tae.” you say into the darkness, not expecting for an answer.

“why did you do it?” the darkness whispers back.

“it just happened,” you know better than to offer half-baked excuses for something you completely intended and would even pursue if you didn’t get caught in the middle.

when silence lapses into the room, you thought the matter done and buried six feet under you and taehyung’s conscience. 

not the first time you’ve been wrong.

“why seokjin? why not me?” his lips brush yours, tasting like heartbreak and missing the part where he’s supposed to be drunk and out of his mind for even daring to get so close to you.

to let his hair brush against your forehead. to let his hand snake down your thigh with feather light touches until he’s an inch away from grabbing your ass. if he dared try, your kick wouldn’t be aimed at the air to which he moves it away and places that hand next to your head, boxing you under him completely.

“ew, what the fuck?” and despite the trapped-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place situation, you manage to lean as far away as you can. or so you’d like to think, but you can still feel his breath fanning your neck.

you wish you have an owl’s ability to twist its neck all the way to the back.

“you’re my best friend, taehyung! get off!” you feel like a child hitting her father with her tiny little fist. taehyung doesn’t even flinch when it hits his chest.

but he pulls away anyway, standing on his knees over you within a lull in time before he falls back on his butt in the space between your parted calves. the wrist of his hand that’s propped against the floor brushes against the side of your foot.

“do you get it now? we grew up together,” his voice echoes into the dark, “my brothers are your brothers- that- what you did- that was messed up, ___.”

“so? was creeping up on me like that necessary?” you retort,  pushing yourself up and hearing the thud pillow you vehemently hurled at the silhouette of the man hunched over a couple feet away from you, “you perv!”

“how much do you like seokjin?” he asks, trapping the pillow in his lap, under his elbow, but before you can even say anything, he shoots you another string of question, “do you even like him?”

“stop making it sound like i’m the bad guy,” you huff, “as if your brother’s such a saint. he wanted it just as much.”

“i don’t care who wants it more, fuck’s sake,” he says roughly, “all your past relationships have only been sexual.”

holding up one hand, you find your shadow cloaked fingers much more nails, “your point being?”

“don’t you stop to think about how much things’ll change? how awkward it’ll be at family dinners once you finally got tired of each other? how awkward it’ll be for me?” 

“oh, because everything’s about you, isn’t it?” you roll your eyes yet your stomach churns.

only silence hangs over the darkness as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. taehyung pushes himself out and marches out of the room whilst you stay rooted in your spot, curled into a ball with your legs against your chest.

when morning comes, you’re awaken to the sound of taehyung padding around with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off his hair and trickling down his chest, “there’s no one if the bathroom, if you wanna wash up.”

it’s the only exchange you have in the morning and throughout the drive to your uni until taehyung parks the car in the spot somewhere near your faculty.

“i thought about it,” you finally say, breaking the silence. the way he turns to you in your periphery makes you want to shrink into the seat and crawl away like an ant but you shrug instead, “what you said last night - i thought about it... you’re right, you guys are the closest family i have here. and i don’t wanna ruin that just cause i can’t keep it in my pants.”

the soft hum of the music fills the space between you, making the unspoken truth a bit more bearable than a pin-drop silence. taehyung’s hair sways for the briefest moment as he arches his brows in contemplation before unsmiling lips curl into that signature box smile, “really?”

“yes, really,” you roll your eyes, “one dick wasn’t worth losing my best friend over.”

“i’d hug you but i’m still having withdrawals from what i saw last night,” tahyung’s face scrunches in disgust.

“oh so that’s what it takes to get your sleazy hands off me. by the way seokjin-” trickles of laughter escapes your mouth as you hop out of his car, managing to avoid his swatting hand just in time, “bye! thanks for the ride!”

x

the mindless banters between you and taehyung never cease, if anything, it goes from playing rock-paper-scissors to decide where to eat to googling up and showing each other pictures of poisonous shrooms in case you get lost in the woods for more than 36 hours.

you used to have lunch together every other day, but taehyung comes to you for a continuous three day, hitting four days streak in between classes this week. each time bearing that boyish grin that could fool just about anyone when it comes to picked-up pieces of a broken heart.

“she texted me,” he shrugs, twirling his chopsticks in the bowl of cold noodles and letting the silence hang stale without any hint of providing more information until you nudge it out of him.

“i didn’t text back.” he says it as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“it’s so easy for you boys, huh?” you don’t know where in the deities greenland he got the narrowing of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as-

“seokjin didn’t text you?” the titled smile of his tempts you to smack it off his face right that instance.

“how- wha- that literally has nothing to do with your bitch ass ex-girlfriend who were talking about though?” kim taehyung doesn’t offer any response, only the sway of his shoulders as he laughs before digging into the sweet, savory noodles in front of him.

it’s only after you’ve returned to your faculty, fast-walking towards your lecture, that you find out the subject matter himself sitting hunched over on one of the benches laid out along the roofless pathway that leads to your faculty. the jaws of the girls and gays that happen to be standing a few feet away, drops at the way seokjin looks up, eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight before his lips curl into a smile.

“hey,” there’s that smile you miss so bad.

x

it turns out seokjin’s little shit of a brother and your ass of a best friend snuck into his room, flashed a light over his face, bypassed his phone’s lock and deleted your number, blocked you on snapchat and unfollowed you on instagram.

“and here i thought you were done with me,” your jaw would have hung loose if you don’t have the tip of your venti mocha swirl keeping your lips together as you stare at the pavement, walking aimlessly with seokjin down the path of rose beds.

“i took the day off, decided to try my luck, and hope you’d see me at waiting for you awkwardly - everyone probably thinks ‘who the hell is this old ass guy hanging around-’“ his words get cut off by your gasp as you feel your face hurting from the way your lips are almost reaching your ears.

“you did?” shoulders sagging, you press a hand to your chest where you heart flutters with a sort of warmth, “for me?” before holding your arms out in an invitation for a hug and retracting them not even a second later, “no wait- i promised tae i wouldn’t do this.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself at the sky rose garden because the pathway you found him at, all of a sudden, becomes a runway for the girls and gays. they pass you in a guise of walking by whilst their eyes linger on his broad chest and pants that hug his thighs and the protrusion of his natural size that wasn’t going to get smaller than that.

“what he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or us,” there it is again, the melodic hymn of a chuckle as he opens his arms for you, the action ever so natural, as if he’s done this a couple of million times.

and just like that, you fall into his embrace, cheek mushing against his chest as you inhale the familiar scent of mint seaside and the faintest scent of woody earth. you find it unfair that his heart beats steadily whilst yours thrash in your chest. maybe that’s the cause of your cheeks heating up.

“i can do it, you know?” his voice vibrates against your ears in a honeyed tingles, “i can use my ‘big bro influence’ and get him off our backs.”

you lift your head, breath stuttering at the sight of star glinted eyes gazing down at you with the gentles smiles, “should you?” but you shake your head a second later, “no, he’d hate me forever - he’ll know i put you up to this because you’re too nice. you’d ne-”

a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head and you’re lost in an ocean of galaxy, “i brought up the idea, if anyone’s gonna get in hot water, it’s gonna be me.”

“that’s not what taehyung’s gonna think,” the recollection of your conversation with the aforementioned man floods your mind and almost as if an invisible current wraps around your body, you find yourself  taking a step back in surrender.

“and he’s right, seokjin,” the way his eyes flash with a sort of emotion - one that you can’t pinpoint, let alone interpret the meaning of - doesn’t go unnoticed by you yet you go on, “this has to stop. once the passion simmers down and we get bored of each other, what do you think is gonna happen?”

but the words that hits the air is like frostbites to your warm, beating heart, “you already have it in your mind that we’re gonna break up.”

it takes you a second to clear your throat, another to gather your thoughts, “relationships like ours always end with a break up.”

galaxies are littered with illuminating stars but you’re a fool to have turned a blind eye to its dark side. and seokjin’s stars have dimmed, leaving only a trail of shadow in those clouded eyes.

but the half-hearted smile that curls on his lips appears like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, “do you wanna at least goodbye?”

your eyes follow his that trail down to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“yes,” you beam, “i would love to say goodbye.”

x

the cars and the scenic view of the highway pass by in a blur, not that you’re in a position to stare out the window like a heartbroken woman whose fiancee set out for way.

“slow down,” there’s a desperate plea in his voice, “i don’t want to cum too early.”

the stern, warning look he shoots you is makes you giggle. what with his flushed face and twitching self in your hand.

how adorable.

“but you taste so good, jinnie,” your tongue sweeps past your lips, licking the pre-cum off his oozing tip.

“keep teasing me like that if you want me to pull up and fuck you on the side of the road,” the threat on his tongue sends tingles down your spine.

eyes glinting, you can basically hear the blatant disregard in his voice when he first asked if you’d climb up in his lap while he was hitting the back of your throat after you’d quickly scurried into his car for the last goodbye.

so you take it slow, licking him down his length as his hand settle on your head, caressing your hair.

the door closes behind you as seokjin pushes you against it, his hand on your cheek as he crashes his lips against yours and your hand reaching under his boxers. it looked almost painful as he zipped up his pants before getting out of the car and walking the distance between the parking spot and the apartment.

you distinctly remember the sight of a blanket on the couch and an opened laptop on the coffee table, the red of the cans of energy drinks laying around on the ground and surface of said coffee table - they only ever try to clean up when they know you’re coming for your weekly stay over.

but who are you to judge when your clothes soon join the cans on the floor, forming trails down the hallway.

by the time your body lightly bounces on top of seokjin’s bed, you feel the cold air brush against your skin whilst he stands over you like a beast drinking in the sight of the prey he’ll devour. but you don’t mind if that allows you to admire the beautiful landscape of tight abs and powerful physique.

a sort of dread washes over you at the thought of such length coming close to the apex of your legs. taking him in your mouth was doable but only because you’ve had enough practice to know how to adapt to certain lengths by steadying your breath. but you’ve had enough experience to know you wouldn’t just be able to get use to his size right off the bat.

and he’s the biggest you’ve ever met.

your hand runs over the ridges of his muscles biceps before they twine together over the nape of his neck. it must have been the way you look at him, the yearning that pours through gaze and beckons him like a siren’s song. 

the spot of the bed a few inches from your head dips as he props himself on his forearms, lips marking your skin as his.

“seokjin- ah!” you should already used to the bold caress of his tongue around your nipple.

your control is devastated, your thighs are quivering and seokjin’s touches have enthralled you in a fierce flare of yearning. 

“ah,” you breathe out, gaze unfocusing as pleasure and discomfort flood from your core while he deliberately stretches you out.

his hand returns to the side of your face as he stays inside you, lets you feel him, take him for what he is whilst he kisses your cheekbone, your jawline and burry his face in your neck. 

your breath stutters as you feel him slide out of you, heart beat stammering for the briefest moment when his tip kisses your entrance before he pushes himself in deeper than before.

but you know you haven’t taken all of him in.

not yet.

“you’re stretching me out so good,” you say barely above whisper.

“not even half is in, baby,” is all he says before you feel the muscles in his back flexing as he shifts most of his weight onto his hands, thrusting deeper into you.

“fuck,” you moan, the discomfort fading away as pleasure surge through your body in waves as your arms wrap around seokjin’s neck, face buried in his shoulder until you don’t know where he starts and where he ends.

lost in wicked delight, your fuzzed mind barely registers the sound of your phone despite its blares a few inches above your head where you remember tossing to before slipping out of your jeans and succumbing to the reckless savage lust that neither you nor seokjin should speak about to a single soul.

“pick it up,” the man’s husked voice drums in your ear clearer only because of the cease of ripples of pleasures as he stills.

“wha-” you don’t say much, groping around for your phone before shooting him a pleading look of ‘can’t this wait till after you give me the greatest orgasm of my lifetime?’

“it’s taehyung,” the name that spills out of your mouth strikes guilt into your beating heart.

“hm? you’re tightening up. is it because of my little brother?” the surge of possession in his voice tempers with your sanity, it drips like sweet honey rose and mars your skin with its thorns, “answer the call.”

x

note. ooof ig yall know what next chapter’s gonna be. maybe.

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics​ @heyjiminnie​ @hyuck-me​ @fanfuckingfic​

[ultraclairedg]

The Tale of Turandot

There is a house. One enters it blind and comes out seeing. What is it?

This is possibly the oldest riddle ever and was written in Ancient Sumer around four thousand years ago. (Scroll down for the answer)

People, even during the most ancient times, like to test their logic and knowledge with riddles. We like making them for others to solve and we like solving them ourselves – thereby feeling clever and proud of our intellect.

In the fifth century BC, Sophocles gave us the Sphinx riddle in “Oedipus, the King”.

What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?

These are just two examples of riddles that have come to us from ancient times. The use of imagination and fantasy is essential to riddles so it comes as no surprise to find them in many stories.

Let’s move forward in time a little to look at another example.

In the mid twelfth century, a poet was born in what is now modern-day Azerbaijan. He wrote a number of poems including one in which an ancient Persian ruler goes off in search of seven beauties. The beauties are each related to the seven known planets of that time. One of them is, of course, connected to Mars and she is supposedly Khutulun, the real daughter of a Central Asian nomadic ruler and a relation of Ghengis Khan and Kublai Khan. She is one tough lady. She hunts and wrestles and is known to have won many, many horses by wrestling and beating down prospective suitors. (If you Google her name, a number of articles will pop up, should you be interested)

Fast forward to mid eighteenth century Venice where a playwright for the Commedia dell’Arte uses this Persian poem as the basis for one of his plays. This play is much admired by the German poet and playwright Schiller, who decides to write his own version. The hunting and wrestling bad-ass nomad princess of the central Asian plains, however, is a bit too much for European sensibilities, so our heroine gets transformed into a cold Chinese princess who, instead of beating the crap out of her suitors, sets them riddles. If they can solve the riddles, they will win her hand; if they can’t, they die. She’s such a nice person, one wonders why anyone would fall in love with her in the first place?

Nevertheless, one nameless suitor eventually turns up who manages to solve the riddles, but this bitch of a princess still doesn’t want to marry him. So, good guy that he is, he gives her a chance. He tells her that if she can find out his name by dawn of the following day (sound familiar? Rumplestiltskin?), she can kill him and not marry him. In order to avoid the marriage, the princess orders all her subjects to stay up all night trying to find out his name or they will be beheaded in his stead. (What a lovely woman!) This is what the suitor sings while awaiting for the dawn.

None shall sleep, None shall sleep! Even you, oh Princess, In your cold room, Watch the stars, That tremble with love And with hope. But my secret is hidden within me, My name no one shall know, No... no... On your mouth, I will tell it, When the light shines. And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine! (No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.) Vanish, o night! Set, stars! Set, stars! At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!

You probably don’t recognise the English words unless you’re an opera buff but a lot of football fans will recognise this version of it as it suddenly became really famous in 1990 when super-famous opera singer Pavarotti ‘s version was used as a football World Cup theme.

As I mentioned before, if Turandot is such a terrible person, one wonders why anyone would want to marry her no matter how beautiful, rich or powerful she is, so some bright spark has come up with an answer for that conundrum too. In the 2021 Chinese film “The Curse of Turandot”, the princess wears three bracelets which were given to her when she was young. These bracelets are, of course, cursed so they turn this otherwise pleasant young lady into a homicidal hellcat. Although this film is in Chinese, the character of Prince Calaf, the one who sings Nessum Dorma in the opera, is played by American actor Dylan Sprouse. Needless to say, his voice was dubbed, but that’s very common in Chinese dramas where the voice you hear is often not the voice of the actor playing the role. This film wasn’t great so I wouldn’t recommend it even if you like other Chinese films but it does show how an idea that originated in the imagination of a 12th century poet, changed and altered to suit European sensibilities in the 19th entury and used as a football theme in the nineties can be brought right into the 21st century and given a new spin. Imagination is a wonderful thing!

(Riddle answers: A school and a person)

[pagesoflauren]

The Highest Bidder Ch. 1 (Ransom Drysdale x reader; sugar daddy!AU)

Summary: A graduate-level education is a costly pursuit. When you move out of state to study in Boston, expenses pile up, leading you to auction off what is apparently your most valuable asset: your virginity. It goes to the highest bidder…who happens to be Ransom Drysdale.

There are no major spoilers for Knives Out. Consider this as an alternate timeline. There will be references to the movie/its characters and family dynamics revealed in the movie.

Warnings: loss of virginity, explicit sexual content/smut, angst, sugar daddy/baby arrangement, dark elements, dubcon, cliffhangers, minor spoilers for Knives Out, unprotected sex, irresponsible driving (don’t drink and drive!), swearing, Ransom is an asshole (more to add and if you spot any that I’ve missed, please kindly let me know!)

A/N: Huge disclaimer...I really didn’t want to end this chapter the way I did, but it was getting a little too long...but there’s more coming! Don’t worry, please don’t send an angry mob after me 😱  Big love to @threeminutesoflife and @caffiend-queen for beta-ing this for me! ❤️ One last thing about the text messages: Italics are sent messages and bold italics are received messages :)

This chapter is written under the assumption that the reader drinks alcohol.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

With his bedroom illuminated by the flashing images of his television, Ransom lounged lazily in his bed. One hand was occupied with his phone as his thumb slowly scrolled over the screen, the other idly wrapped around his cock as he took in the images on the device. 

Various girls, all a few years younger than him, staring with false wide-eyed innocence or sprawled out provocatively across recliners on sandy beaches or by turquoise-watered pools. Their names or aliases were listed under the respective photos, with a number in green text next to it. 

Deciding there were too many options, Ransom scrolled back up, the hand on his cock pausing as he started setting filters through the search. He changed them to specific hair colors, skin tones and a more concentrated age range. The only filter he didn’t change was the prices--there was no limit there. The page refreshed and showed him more favorable faces. 

His mind started to numb and the faces started looking too similar. As he was ready to pack it in for the night and tuck himself back into his boxers, a strange listing catches his attention. 

He sees you, kneeling in the sand at an apparent topical destination in a barely-there bikini. Unlike the other girls, though, your face is candid, caught in a laugh, eyes crinkled and lips spread in joy. There’s no price. Just the letters “HB” in red text. 

He clicks on your photo and the webpage changes to your profile. There’s a few more photos of you: one with a cat, more vacation photos. Your location is convenient: Boston. Not too far from where he is. 

But all of that fails to answer the question at the forefront of Ransom’s mind: Why don’t you have a price next to your name?

He scrolls through a couple more meaningless pieces of information: a little blurb about who you are, your measurements, your race and your conditions.

One time only.

“What?” he wonders aloud, face scrunching in curiosity. Sugar babies don’t just have sex once and then walk away with a fortune. From what he’s heard, they bitch and moan but shut up when there’s a cock in their mouth (or pussy, for that matter). They need to be looked after either because they can’t afford it or can’t be bothered to do things on their own. Then, once he reaches the end of your profile, he understands. 

Virginity Auction. Current Bid: $8,250.

Ransom smirks at the prospect. He wasn’t looking for a virgin, but he likes the idea of taking one now. 

The number changes in real time, going up in five dollar increments before someone brings it up to $8,500. A pop-up window appears, warning him that if he’s interested, the auction ends at midnight. Ransom’s eyes flick to the top of his phone. It’s 11:57.

He thinks for a few ticks. If he pays you enough, he’ll have the convenience of entertaining himself between your legs and taking your virginity with no strings attached. Once that’s done, you’ll be out of his hair. He wouldn’t have to put you up, send you money or deal with your whining or complaining. 

Sounds like a good deal. 

Pressing his thumb into the blue button that says “Bid,” Ransom looks at the clock again. 11:58. 

Initially, he types in $10,000. But with two minutes to go and your price still ticking up, he doesn’t want to chance getting outbid by someone at the last second. He has to blow the other bidders out of the water. 

Sat up in your bed and wringing your hands nervously, you look at your cracked phone screen. Midnight has just passed and you’re waiting for a notification about the final bid in your auction. It started at $5,000 and in the week that the listing was posted, you had gotten notifications whenever it went to the next thousand. 

This isn’t how you wanted to lose your virginity. Ideally, you would have genuinely made love to somebody, someone your parents would have approved of and who truly cared for you. Even more ideally, it would have been the man who eventually became your husband...though you wouldn’t have waited until marriage to lose your V-card. You were about to take the next step in life and--you had to face it--you weren’t getting younger. 

What was the least ideal of it all was the fact that you were doing this out of pure desperation. Your graduate program was starting in a month and your savings were mostly gobbled up by application and testing fees. Living out of state didn’t help either; most of your money went to paying rent and commuting around the city. If someone paid you enough to tide your finances over, you could live off that money until the end of the semester, after adjusting to the program and your schedule, before taking on a job off campus. 

Your phone buzzed with an email from the website and you tapped the banner. Your email app launched and opened directly to the message. 

Your auction has ended. 

Reading further, you can’t believe what you see. 

Winning bid: $50,000 by Ransom Drysdale.

Fifty thousand dollars? Surely there must be a mistake. Why would someone pay ten times the starting bid? 

And Drysdale...where had you seen that name? 

Closing your eyes, you searched your recollection to place the name. It’s so familiar. 

Deciding your memory is unreliable, you resolve to a Google search of your highest bidder’s last name. 

The first result that pops up is a real estate company and a picture of famed author Harlan Thrombey, who apparently is the father of the woman who owns the business.

You feel faint...these names are not insignificant in Massachusetts, let alone the world. Harlan was a best-selling mystery writer--you had some of his books in your library back home. 

Then concern floods your brain: if this Linda Drysdale is Harlan Thrombey’s daughter, that makes Thrombey her maiden name. She must’ve married a Drysdale. 

Are you a pawn in some horrible cheating scandal? You must be, nobody has the name Ransom. It has to be an alias. Her husband must be looking for some young thing to get his rocks off. 

Stress causes your scalp to prickle as your phone buzzes again with a text message from the semi-mysterious Ransom, checking if it’s you, that he has the right number. 

Yes, you reply. 

The three dotted message bubble pops up before turning into another message.

Good. I’ve made a reservation at The Boxer in the city for Saturday. I told them you’ll check in. I told them not to charge you anything, but if you need to pay any fees, I’ll send you the money back. I’ll be there after 9. 

A chill runs down your spine at how direct he is. But, you suppose you can’t expect anything more from him. 

Okay, you acknowledge.

More dots, then another message.

Dress appropriately.

Despite your lack of experience in the bedroom, you know for a fact that he’s not referring to office attire. 

Settling back onto your pillow, you pull the covers over yourself and breathe slowly. You’ve got some preparation to do.

What do you bring with you when you’re planning to lose your virginity to a complete stranger in exchange for tuition money? 

Fuck all if you have a clue. 

You spent the days leading up to Saturday getting yourself ready. You bought a tight dress and pair of strappy heels from the sale racks. You cluelessly browsed for lingerie before an associate took pity on you (or just desperately wanted you out of her store, jury’s still out on that) and helped you select a lacy set complete with a garter and stockings. The associate absolutely gushed at how the color of the material complemented your skin tone, though you could care less. You forked over $120 for the damn thing and scampered out. Learning from your friends’ mistakes, you purchased a set of condoms using the self-checkout kiosk (and prayed you picked the right size). You weren’t instructed to buy condoms, but you figured you wouldn’t risk the chance of not having any. You endured a Brazilian wax, stifling profanities as the woman did her work. You also had trouble getting over your embarrassment; a stranger was going to see you bared all for him in a few days so if you can’t handle the wax lady seeing you, how could you handle “Ransom”?

Ransom.

Thinking about him did nothing for your nerves. You were certain you were going to lose your virginity to a man in his late 50s, who was married to Massachusetts’ biggest real estate mogul and the daughter of a renowned author. 

Dear God, what if she found out? Her father wrote murder mysteries, she had plenty of ways to kill you and get away with it. What if you weren’t even meeting “Ransom” and you were meeting Linda and she was going to kill you at the hotel?

You shake your head and look back down at the contents of your duffel bag: toiletries, a change of clothes for tomorrow, the condoms and your phone charger. You had created a playlist on your phone...if you weren’t going to lose your virginity to someone you loved, then maybe you could fake it with music. 

Who are you kidding? you chide yourself. 

You sigh and resolve to getting ready. After eating dinner, you strip off your old band t-shirt and sweatpants, remove your simple cotton underwear and novelty pineapple-patterned socks before discarding them into your laundry hamper. 

You shimmy into the lacy knickers, the material feeling quite uncomfortable against your skin. You clip the bra on next, followed by the garter around your waist.  Then you finish off with the stockings over your legs, stopping at mid-thigh. After fastening the clips on the suspenders to the lace trim at the top of the hosiery, you sit at your vanity to apply some makeup and fix your hair. 

“‘Dress appropriately’,” you mutter as you pull your dress from your tiny closet, “Hopefully this is appropriate enough.”

You maneuver yourself into your dress, struggling with the zipper for a moment then smoothing the material over yourself. You slide your feet into your heels and teeter a bit as you stand up. 

You’re not planning to really impress too much, so you pull on a downy, puffy jacket to combat the sea breeze the city gets in the evenings. 

Pulling the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, you look in the mirror one last time. You catch the reflection of the clock: it’s almost seven thirty. Taking into account how long it’ll take for your rideshare to arrive at your house and the traffic in the city on a Saturday night, you’ll arrive at the hotel a little after eight. You suppose now’s a good a time as any to leave. 

Requesting a car for pickup, you realize there’s no going back. 

Stepping into the hotel lobby, you know you don’t belong here. 

With modern touches and old architectural charm, the men wearing luxury tailored suits and women wearing unaffordable dresses, you felt you stood out like a sore thumb. The most luxurious hotel you had stayed at was a Holiday Inn Express near Disneyland. And it barely had functioning lighting. 

You timidly approach the front desk. Though the receptionist gives you a warm smile, you’re not comforted. 

“Hi, I’m here to check in for Drysdale?”

The man’s eyebrows raise in what you assume is recognition. 

Maybe this “Ransom” meets other escorts here often, then.

“While we would normally ask you to cover the fees upon checking in, Mr. Drysdale is a very good friend of the hotel so we’ve accommodated his request to make an exception,” the man informs you as he types away. He grabs a keycard and hands it to you. 

“You’ll be in room 6-F. Have a pleasant stay.”

“Thank you,” you say meekly, taking the card before turning to take an elevator up. 

Once on the sixth floor, you locate and unlock the room. The lights turn on automatically and you’re met with a cool gray toned room, which gives the room a darker atmosphere already. 

The entrance is narrow and you assume the bathroom is on the other side of the wall on your right. With wobbly steps, you move forward and see the room open up. 

The first thing you notice is the king-sized bed. Beyond it, the windows show illuminated facades of buildings outside. On the wall opposite the bed is a desk with a speaker and aux cord on top of the marble workspace and a fridge underneath. A TV is mounted on the wall above the desk. Next to it is an open wardrobe with a bathrobe hanging, cubbies and drawers, as well as a tray of refreshments. 

You set your bag on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe and retrieve the remote to turn on the TV to create some white noise and maybe kill some time (and nerves) as you wait for nine o’clock to come around. 

You wander into the bathroom and look yourself over in the mirror. You shake out your hands and pace, deciding to take off your heels for now as you pad around the room. 

Ransom was bored of dinner and his host knew it. Everyone else kept a level of decorum, but all the guests knew this get together was extending much longer than necessary. 

Checking his watch, it was quarter to nine. He threw back the rest of his drink before nodding to his friend and exchanging brief glances as he got up. Haphazard goodbyes were thrown his way as he pulled on his jacket and Ransom gave a nod of acknowledgement. He exits the restaurant, whistling to get the valet’s attention and handing the man his ticket as he pulls out his phone. 

Where are you? he messages you. 

At the hotel, sir. Room 6-F. 

“‘Sir’,” he muses to himself, smirking at the title you’d given him. He didn’t even need to tell you to address him that way. 

Have them bring up my usual from the bar.

Yes, sir.

Wondering how far he can take this, he asks you to send him a picture. 

He’s surprised with how quickly you comply. You’re sat on top of the sheets at the edge of the bed, leaned forward so your elbow can rest on your knee and the camera can get a view of the plunging neckline of your dress. Your hair falls nicely over your face and your palm cradles your chin. 

He can’t lie, he loves the way you look. You may as well be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Taking a few deep breaths, he wills himself to calm down; he can’t get hard yet. 

He puts his phone into one pocket and reaches into the other as the valet returns with his car. When the valet approaches, Ransom hands over a few sad, crumpled bills as a tip before walking around to the driver’s side of his car and climbing in. Sending one last message to you, he pulls away from the curb and heads to the hotel. 

I’m on my way. Make sure my drink is there before me.

You let out a spastic sound of nervousness and shook out your hands again before getting up to pace around the room again. 

The drink was on the way, you placed the order as soon as he told you to. You didn’t want to give him any excuse to not pay or complain you were unsatisfactory. Though, not having any experience in bed might prove that mission to be difficult regardless of whether or not his drink came in time. 

There’s a knock on the door and you jog over, pulling the door open to find a waiter holding a tray with a glass of what you assume is Scotch perched on top, covered with one of those signature little hats hotels always place on top of glasses. 

“Thank you,” you smile, carefully receiving the glass from him. He bows silently and turns to leave. 

You shut the door and place the glass on a coaster you find on the desk. You bother yourself with where the glass should rest (next to the speaker? on the far end, closest to the wardrobe?). Deciding it should be on the bedside table, you move the glass and coaster there then return to the desk to plug your phone in and play some music. You cringe at your choice to include Ed Sheeran in this playlist, but there’s no going back now. 

Suddenly, you hear the clicking sound of the door unlocking and you scramble over to sit on the bed to put your heels on. 

When you look up, you’re shocked to not find a man in his late 50s, nor the severe looking woman you’ve seen plastered on real estate posters. 

You find a man who can’t be that much older than you, dark hair and blue eyes that stand out in the dim light of the entry hallway. His cheeks are pale and rosy, framed by a strong jawline. He’s tall, crown of his head so high towards the ceiling. His broad shoulders nearly touch either side of the walls as he approaches you. 

He’s dressed rather casually, as if he was out to dinner with friends. The color palette of his outfit matches the hotel room: cool gray henley shirt, black blazer and jeans, finished off with a pair of brown boots and belt to match. If you’re honest, he looks like a model. He looks like he could have any woman he wanted. 

Why the hell does he want a virgin?

When he comes to stand in the room, hands tucked into his pockets, he looks you up and down from where you’re seated. His lips pucker thoughtfully and you see how perfectly pink and full they are and you wonder what it would be like to kiss them...

Nope. We’re not doing that. It’s a one time thing and that’s that. You remind yourself.

His eyes catch the glass on the bedside table and he plucks it up, removing the paper covering before bringing it to his lips to drink.

When the glass is halfway to his mouth, he hooks a finger at you. “Stand up.”

As he drinks, you obey, rising from your place on the mattress and smoothing down your dress before folding your hands together. 

He pauses his sipping, “Turn.” 

Hands falling out of each other’s grip, they land at your sides rather limply and you begin turning, giving him a three-sixty view of your body. You feel heat creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. 

When you come back to face him, he throws his head back to finish his drink and places the glass back on the bedside table, but he misses the coaster. You cringe inwardly at the ring that will surely form on the surface later. 

Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet his. You feel like a deer in headlights, unmoving as his gaze continues to flit over your figure. You wonder if he knows you’re holding your breath. You wonder if he can hear how quickly your heart is pounding. 

When he goes to take off his jacket, things start feeling real. You don’t know how to describe the sound that leaves your throat, maybe something a frightened toad would make. Ransom halts and throws you a perplexed look and you cover your mouth in embarrassment. 

He rolls his eyes. “You nervous?”

The words blend together, but his voice is so honeyed and silken and you can’t help but sigh inwardly at the sound of it. 

Your jaw is slack and can’t make any sounds rise from your larynx. You snap your mouth shut and manage to nod stiffly. 

Rolling his eyes again, he crosses the room to the mini fridge under the desk and pulls the door open. Crouching down, he shuffles through the various little bottles inside before turning and tossing one to you. 

Your balance teeters as you fumble to catch it, the glass slipping out of your grip a few times before you fully grasp it.

The cap makes a cracking sound as it separates from the tamper evident band when you twist it open. You don’t bother to look at the label or pay any mind to the color of the liquid. Once the bottle’s open, you tilt your head back and drink, feeling the burn travel down your throat. When you stop, you notice you’ve had almost all of it. 

Your eyes meet Ransom’s again and he raises his brows as if to ask, Better?

You finish the remaining contents of the bottle and feel the liquid settle in your belly as you twist the cap back on.

“Thank you,” you muster your voice to say. 

His eyebrows raise again, showing his disinterest, and he holds his hand out. You’re certain you resemble a child when you use both hands to carefully place the bottle in his hands. There’s a flicker of confusion that crosses his face and you think you were meant to place your hand in his, but he turns and places the bottle on the desk. 

There’s a sense of dread that settles in your stomach when you realize there really is no going back and no more stalling. You can’t read the expression on his face, but you’re certain he’s not pleased with how slowly this is going. 

Summoning your courage, you reach your hands up behind you and begin to pull the zipper down...

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit

Ransom tag: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

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A note about tags: If your name is crossed out, I couldn’t tag you for some reason. While comments asking for me to tag you are okay, it is much easier for me to keep track of my tag lists if you send an ask. That’s the sure fire way to guarantee I’ll tag you. 

Additionally, if I forgot to tag you, please gently remind me via my ask box.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Let's Play a game - CH.3

Chapter three of let's play a game, as usual pick your own Jude. I know I have!

Tag list: @neocil @cjand10

If you want to join the LPAG tag list, let me know.

If Jude Hastings thinks he can show up at my family brunch and act like he wasn’t committing an act of war, he sure had another thing coming.

I was going to be the best’ girlfriend’ this man had ever seen. I was going to be such a convincing girlfriend that his parents would be begging him to propose to me by the time I break his heart. I was going to be that girl that all his friends, colleagues and all his family compare his next girlfriend to.

I was going to be the girl who destroyed Jude Hastings for other women.

“Hi.” I smiled at the female officer who sat at the front desk. She looked borderline depressed with her piles of paperwork around her. “I’m here to see Jude Hastings.”

“Name.” She drawled out.

“Darcy Edwards.” I plastered the fakest smile on my face as she picked up her desk phone.

“What is your reasoning to see Officer Hastings?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” I held up the picnic basket by my side as the woman eyes widened. “And I brought him dinner.” I put the basket on the bench and riffled through finding the container of cupcakes I’d baked - Oh yeah, I’d also baked dessert - “Cupcake?” I offered the now open container of sugary sweets to the woman who looked at them like they’d offended her entire family. “There is chocolate and vanilla.” She didn’t speak, just kept looking at me.

“Hastings… There’s a woman here to see you.” She looked me up and down. “Claims she’s your girlfriend.”

“Darcy.” I prompted right as she put the phone down.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes if you sit down.” She mumbled before looking back down at her open file.

I guess that’s a no to the cupcake, then.

I pulled the container back, shoving the lid back on and storing it back inside the basket before walking over to the waiting chairs. I put the basket on one and began to fiddle with my dress.

A long summer maxi dress with sandals was the best accompaniment to this whole dinner scheme of mine. Not only was it workplace appropriate, but it gave off this virginesque vibe which would only help me win over his colleagues.

Hastings would have no clue what was hitting him.

“Darcy?” I turned at the familiar voice. Standing holding the door open was Jason Sato. Hastings partner and one of the many people I’d gone to high school with who didn’t seem to want to leave this damn town. “I didn’t actually believe him when he told me you were here to see him.” He began to laugh.

“What do you mean?” I picked the basket up and walked towards him. “Is Jude coming?” I held the basket up slightly. “I made him dinner.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“What?” I faked as gasp - poisoning it would have been too obvious. “Why would it be poisoned.”

“Because the last time you made food for him, you put laxatives in it.” Oh yeah.

“That was high school, Jason.” I gave a giggle. Sweet and innocent. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to poison my boyfriend; he’s too cute for that.”

“It was only two years ago,”

“Was it?” I tapped the side of my head gently. “Bad memory.”

“So you and Jude finally put it all behind you, huh.”

“Sure did.” I smiled as Jude appeared behind him. “Hi Bunny.” I beamed at him. Relishing in the way, his smile dropped at the use of his new nickname.

“Bunny?” Jason tried to hold in a laugh as I nodded idiotically. “Wow.”

“What you got in there?” Hastings pointed to the basket.

“I made your favourite.” I lifted the basket some more. “Egg salad sandwiches and cupcakes.”

“Egg sandwiches are your favourite food?” Jason raised an eyebrow at Hastings. Absolutely not. He hated egg salad sandwiches.

“Picnic food it is.” Hastings amended.

“Did you want to join us for dinner?” I stepped towards Hastings, who wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me back against him. “I made plenty for everyone.” Jason looked between Hastings and me. “You don’t mind, do you, Bunny?” I looked up at Hastings with a wide smile, the smile only becoming broader as I heard Jason let out a snort of laughter.

“Of course not,” Hastings grimaced, leaning down kissing my cheek.

“I am only saying yes because I want to see more of this.” Hastings grabbed my hand and led me through the police officers towards their break room. I made sure to smile and wave at everyone who looked at us, cementing myself as the polite and sweet girlfriend I was.

“How has your day been?” I asked Hastings as I began to grab all the items out of the picnic table, laying them out in front of the two seated men. “Catch any bad guys today?”

“Not yet.” Hastings grabbed a can of root beer I put down in front of him. “How has your day been, babe?”

“Babe?” I pushed my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “You never call me babe.”

“What does he call you then?” Jason asked mid-bite.

“He usually calls me wifey.”

“You what?” Jason spun to look at Hastings while I struggled to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

“What can I say? When I see something, I want I go for it.” He picked up one of the sandwiches. When he sat back down correctly, he looked at me again, maintaining eye contact as he began to smile. “But, baby. If you’re happy to let people know I intend to make you my wife, then I’m happy to call you that in public. I just thought you didn’t want people to know.”

A challenge.

“Of course Bunny.” I walked around the table and sat down in his lap. “You know I want nothing more than to win this big heart in here.” I tapped his chest. “If you want everyone to know you intend to marry me, then I’m okay with it if you tell them.” Do it, Darcy. Win this one. “It’d make me happy, actually.” I kissed his lips, fighting off the bile that rose with the action.

“Sato.” A voice bellowed from beyond the break room, giving me a reason to break the bile raising kiss. “Call for you at your desk, line three.” Jason stood up slowly, looking at us as if we were some mutation.

“Right, coming.” He called back to the voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” I smiled, watching Jason walk out, the door shutting behind him.

“Is this your feeble attempt at a surprise attack,” Hastings whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“You mean like yours from this morning?”

“I didn’t think we were playing dirty, Edwards.”

“We weren’t, then you crashed family Sunday brunch.”

“You needed your wallet,”

“Then you shouldn’t have lifted it from my purse.” I turned to look at him. “You started this. I’m finishing it.”

“Oh no, this is just the beginning… Wifey.” A twisted smirk covered his lips. “You know that comment I made about no more pranks.”

“Of course,” I remembered everything he said that morning.

“I take that part back.” He nodded towards my outfit. “After this little prank, I think everything is fair game.”

“Prank?” I shook my head. “This is no prank. I wanted to make my big strong man some dinner.” I poked his cheek as I spoke.

“You know I hate eggs.”

“No, I knew eggs give you insane gas,”

“Tamato, tomato.”

“Whoopsies.”

“I’m not eating them.” He looked at the sandwich.

“What’d I miss.” Jason sauntered back in.

“Nothing.” I turned back to him. “Jude was just going to try the sandwiches and tell me what he thought.” I spun around to face Hastings. “Isn’t that right, Bunny.”

“Darcy…”

“It took me a long time to make it all, the sandwiches and the cupcakes.”

“It’s lovely of you, Darcy.”

“Thank you, Julian. If only my boyfriend felt the same way.”

“Try one, man. They’re good.” Julian slid a sandwich over to him. Julian and I both watched as Hastings disgruntledly unwrapped the foil that wrapped the sandwich. Taking half of it, he brought it to his lips.

“Take a big bite! Make sure you get all the flavours.” I clapped my hands together. Honestly, I have never wanted anything more than for this sandwich to react badly with Hastings’s gut. The idea of people thinking he shit himself is nearly funnier than it would be if he actually shit himself.

“Of course.” He muttered, bringing the sandwich to his mouth. To my surprise, he took a massive bite out of it, more than I’d expected him t take. As he chewed, Jason and I watched on. “Wow,” He reached for the root beer, taking a long gulp. “Nice.”

“Try a cupcake now.” I grabbed one of the cupcakes and scooped the icing off with my finger. I was bringing it to my lips before Hastings redirected my finger to his lips. I felt his tongue work around my fingertip, sucking off all the sugary sweet vanilla icing.

“Okay, you two might just be enough to gross me out.” Jason broke us from our moment.

“That was my icing.” I sighed, pulling my finger back. I subtly wiped it on Hastings shirt, thankful that Jason couldn’t see.

“Delicious.” He laughed. “You should try one.” He looked over at Jason.

“Give me your finger, Darcy.” He winked at me.

“Sorry mate, But you’ll need to find your own girl.” His hands wrapped tighter around my waist.

“I should get going.” I unwrapped Hastings arms from around my waist. “I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“I finish in an hour. Why don’t you go to my place.”

“I don’t have clothes, Bunny.” I loved seeing a part of his soul die when I used that nickname, thank you, google.

“Well, go home, and I’ll swing by and get you on the way home.”

“He wants to romance you, Darcy, by the sounds of it.” Jason cackled, unwrapping a cupcake.

“Is that true?”

“Of course it is.” His hand ran down my back, stopping at the swell of my hip. “Romance is my middle name.”

“Now I’m sure your mother told me your middle name was Fredrick.”

“Oft.” Julian hissed. “That’s a sexy name right there.”

“Isn’t it just,” I giggled, throwing my hair over my shoulder. I knew by the look on Hastings’s face he wished I were dead right now, and I knew he could tell by the look on my face that I was loving this more than anything.

Payback is a bitch.

“I better go.” I picked up my purse and walked to the door. “Can you bring those back to me whenever?”

“I’ll bring them by tonight when I come to get you.” Jude stood and walked behind me. “I’ll be back.” He called over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” He swatted my ass, causing me to flinch forward. “Didn’t mind it the other night.” He winked.

“You bloody bastard.” I muttered under my breath as he scooted past me. “I’ll kill you.” I growled as he grabbed my hand, pulling me through the station. “When you get home, I thought we could take a bath together.” I began to rattle. “And maybe I can give you another facial, and we can watch the notebook.” I thundered as we passed by a group of highly masculine-looking officers. “Like we did last week, you seemed to like it. I’ll even use the pink face cream.”

“Jesus.” Hastings hissed, shaking his head. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to.” I passed him pushing open the same door I’d entered only minutes ago.

“I’m walking you to your car,” He confirmed, holding the door open so I could move through the threshold. “C’mon.” His hand grabbed mine, pulling me along behind him. We passed by the silent woman on the front desk and out into the warming summer air. “You are -“

“Incredible?”

“No.”

“Amazing… Phenomenal… Astounding… bewildering… bewitching…”

“Insane… mad… cretinous.”

“Oh a big boy word.” We’d reached my car by now, but Hastings still wasn’t letting go of my hand. “Can I have my hand back now?”

“I don’t know.” He leant back against the car, pulling me into his chest. “I rather like the way it feels in mine.” His other wrapped around my waist, holding my body tightly to his.

“I think we need to clear some things up.” I tried to pull my hand back from him. “This whole facade thing doesn’t have to happen all the time… only when we’re around people.”

“No, sweetheart.” He nuzzled his nose into the underside of my jaw, breathing deep. “I’m going to make you fall madly in love with me.”

“Whose says I’m gonna let you?”

“Whose says your gonna stop me?” His lips crawled up my jaw before moving across the skin of my cheek towards my lips. He flipped us over, so I was trapped up against the car “Darcy,” When did his voice become so husky, and why is it sending a shiver up my spin. “Whose going to stop me?” Why did the idea of his lips on mine seem so appealing? Why did I feel like I was starving? And without the feeling of his lips against mine, I was going to die. “I don’t think you’re going to stop me, Darcy.”

He was right. I wasn’t going to stop him.

Without a second thought, I pulled his head, so our lips met. His hand let go of mine and ran up, grabbing onto my face, keeping me locked to him. My tongue traced his bottom lip. I wanted more. His lips left mine again, kissing all over the skin on my face.

“Baby.” I grabbed onto his face this time and reattached our lips. My hands wandered the expanse of his body, feeling all the muscles I was reluctant to remind myself about. “Darcy, we need to stop.” I shook my head against his lips, my own going to his neck. His hands left my body completely resting against the car on either side of my head as I kissed his neck. “Believe me, I don’t want to stop this either, but if we don’t - We’re going to end up naked on the street, and I don’t think that’s appropriate for an officer of the law.”

Dammit, he was right.

“Your right.” I pulled away from him, my chest heaving. “I should save shows like that for when people are around.” He let out a chuckle.

“What games do you have planned in that twisted head of yours.” His fingertips tapped my temple gently.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I pushed his body away from mine, moving so I could open my drivers’ door.

“Well, was your show in there, was that how it was supposed to happen?”

“Let’s just say, it’s not exactly how I planned it - I expected more people wanting cupcakes, I mean they’re cupcakes c’mon - but it’s turning out better than I thought.” I stopped as I was about to step into the car. “You’re going to fall in love with me, Jude Hastings, and then I’m going to break your heart into a million little bits.” Disturbingly he smiled. Not the reaction you really wanted from a man when you tell him you’re not only going to break his heart but also shatter it into a million parts.

“I’m sure you will, Darcy.” He stepped back away from the door. “But I suppose the real question is, will I break yours first.”

“Don’t count on it.” I slipped into the car.

“I’ll see you soon.” He called out as I turned on the ignition. I rolled my window down and stuck my head out.

“You won’t see me if I don’t answer the door.”

“You will.” He winked before turning and walking back down the path we’d walked together moments ago.

As I took off, my mind was consumed by one thing.

Jude Hastings.

Thoughts of him clouded my senses as I drove, and the feeling of his hands on my hips as he pulled me closer to him left chills on my legs.

He was good, but I was going to be better.