#and shes like “have you never paid taxes??”

[wonderjanga]

The IRS

Billy doesn’t pay taxes. Anything related to taxes, he doesn’t know about.

M’gann: “What’s an IRS?”

Kid Flash “They’re these guys who collect taxes.”

M’gann: “Really? I’ve never paid taxes before. Are they gonna come after me?” *sounds slightly concerned*

Kid Flash: “Maybe-”

Marvel: *comes out of the kitchen with cookies* “No, they’re not. M’gann, the IRS isn’t real.”

M’gann: “It isn’t?”

Marvel: “Yeah, it isn’t. Wally’s just pulling your leg.”

Kid Flash: “Uh��� no, no I’m not… Marvel you do know IRS is real, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

Marvel: “Well, they’ve never come for me and I haven’t paid a single tax in my life.”

Kid Flash: *sounds completely concerned* “That means you’re committing tax fraud.”

Later…

YJ and Marvel: *all huddled around Tim who’s hunched over a computer*

Marvel: “Why’s is everyone here?”

Robin!Tim: “What do you mean, Cap? This is a celebratory moment. We didn’t even know you could commit a crime, yet here we are.” *typing on computer*

Marvel: “Why’d you pull up C.C. Batson?”

Robin!Tim: “Cap, you’re not exactly hiding your face. Anyone could find out who you were if they just dug a little deeper than the surface.”

Artemis: “Your name is C.C.?” *tries to see the computer*

Robin!Tim: “Charles actually.”

Zatanna: “You look like a Charles.”

Marvel: “I do? Huh. Well, anyways, I’ve been legally pronounced dead so I shouldn’t have to pay them right?”

Robin!Tim: “Well, you’re alive now. That means that you technically faked your death and that also technically means that you’re committing tax fraud so…” *types on computer* “You should owe 5 billion to the IRS.”

Marvel: *sounds completely devastated* “WHAT?”

Aqualad: “How could he possibly have racked up that much?”

Robin!Tim: “Well, Cap’s been “dead” *does quotes with his hands* since 1958 so he put off 66 years of taxes. Plus, the price of a dollar went up as the years passed so yeah.”

Marvel: “Oh my gods…” *sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown*

Kid Flash: “Wow. You’re actually an egregious tax evader. 5 billion is insane.”

Even More Later…

Batman: *came to check on the kids*

Marvel: *in a corner, rocking back and forth, practically crying*

Batman: “What’s wrong with him?”

Robin!Tim: “He owes 5 billion to the IRS.”

Batman: “…What?”

Robin!Tim: “Yeah, I know, right?”

Batman and Robin!Tim: *watch as Conner comes by and puts a bunch of blankets on Marvel. They then see M’gann come in with some hot coco and hand it to Cap*

Batman: *sighs* “I’ll get the money.” *walks away*

Robin!Tim: “Hey, Cap! You can stop worrying now! Batman is gonna hook you up.

And that’s how, after much refusal from Billy and a lot of peer pressure from both the YJ and Mr. Batman, itty bitty Billy Batson ended up with 5 billion dollars. And since he didn’t want to be arrested for tax evasion, he was too scared to hand it over to the IRS. (It’s not like he knew how to pay them anyways) But hey, Billy now gets to treat himself, Mary, and Freddy. They now have a decent apartment, better clothes, and lots and lots of food money, and potentially toy money? Billy’s been eyeing these Bulletman and Bulletgirl action figures for his and Mary’s birthday coming up. He hopes Mary will like them, or at least the Bulletgirl figure, he knows she’s a big fan.

Also, I have no idea if the 5 billion dollar thing is right, I pulled that from somewhere and I honestly forgot where.

[ethan-acfan]

More desmond headcanons bc my blorb is scurrying around my head and won't leave.

Desmond develops chronic migraines from the animus like the really bad kind. The ones where you pass out and wake up in Pain™️

Desmond is weirdly good at singing, but he never tells anyone, and most of the time, when he sings around others, he does it ironically, so one day he is just humming a song and everyone is like "WTF YOU CAN SING?"

Des starts picking up odd habits from his ancestors, such as refusing to step into a room with his left foot (edward) or running his tongue along his scar.

He 100% blames himself for not getting clay out of the animus

Is creepily flexible, like to a concerning degree.

He strikes me as a language nerd he def has duolingo, and even before the animus, he knew like 15 different languages

He climbs walls (yes, I was a wall climber as a kid, yes I am projecting rn)

ADHD DESMOND

He once got a 70 year old bottle of whiskey from a "friend" from the bar, and he absolutely shows it off every chance he gets.

He has connections to gangs and has gone on bike rides with them.

He can't do basic math to save his life if someone puts a multiplication problem in front of him, he short circuits.

He starts getting really bad nose bleeds from the animus, scares the crap out of everyone.

Definitely knows how to flirt like FLIRT can turn the straightest of men gay for a night if need be. It just gets worse after going through ezios' memories.

Has a list of really weird talents but can't do basic tasks like, yeah, you can dislocate your shoulder and pop it back into place, but can you cook eggs without burning them🤨

Terrible at cooking (95% sure his food is banned under the Geneva Conventions)

Can't walk in a straight line he is the friend who bumps into 1000 times a minute while walking down the side walk.

He is weirdly silent, like even before the animus thing, he is always weirdly quiet like silent footsteps can't hear his breathing etc. He dosent mean to it just happens

The only training that really stuck from the farm was the stealth training it was also his favorite subject to work on he probably hated hand to hand combat.

He has never filed taxes a day in his life, but the IRS could never track him down. He honestly doesn't even know he supposed to be paying them. The IRS has a meltdown over this.

Ok, I think this was enough to satisfy the itch in my brain. I'm gonna go to bed, know I might post a one-shot about the IRS one tomorrow. Idk

[corsairspade]

Halenthir scenario where they get married for tax benefits (in a platonic good friends sort of way) and fall in love long distance via sending each other letters with ideas on how to best leverage their marriage for tax evasion.

[bondagebimbo]

LOVE when the pharmacy decides to fucking dick around with my meds so badly that now I’m off my mood stabilizer, my pain meds, and my fucking birth control (in a few days) because they’re insisting I should have extra fucking bottles of each one and I DONT because they don’t let me pick up more than a one month supply of narcotics at a fucking time so do explain where these extra bottles are, hmm ????? and they didn’t have enough caplyta ordered last time to even give me my usual 3 months supply of that so … ???? get your fucking heads out of your asses and give me the fucking meds you owe me ??? like ??? but I’m in a nasty headspace right now so if I call the pharmacy this morning, I’m going to be that cunt ass customer they bitch about all day because this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. in fact, the first time, they straight up committed insurance fraud by marking one of my scripts as filled and picked up WHEN, IN REALITY, THEY FUCKING LOST THE SCRIPT AND HAD NO RECORD OF IT BEING FILLED OR PICKED UP IN THEIR SYSTEM, BUT YET, MARKED IT AS SUCH AND CHARGED MY INSURANCE AN ALMOST 8 GRAND FOR THE FUCKING 3 MONTHS OF MY MOOD STABILIZER THAT I. NEVER. RECEIVED. I’m genuinely about to report this entire pharmacy to the pharmacy board because I’m so fucking done with this place. it needs to be shut the fuck down because you’re telling me, out of an entire pharmacy, y’all share the same IQ point AND dead brain cell, collectively ??? then don’t fucking work in healthcare where people rely on you to know your shit and keep track of their fucking meds because you’re just constantly making shit worse on people since you can’t seem to not fuck around with these meds and not ‘lose’ scripts. fuck out of here.

and I’m pretty much out of weed, which is usually my back up pain management method, without the money to afford a delivery order by their cut off time to order in 3 hours because I just paid my fucking bills and have SOME to go towards it, but not enough for delivery to be free, and I’d still have to walk my ass to one of the ATM’s nearby because they don’t accept my bank as a prepaid method OR any of the cards I have on my person. 🫠

I can literally feel my back spasming and seizing on and off while I’m laying on my fucking side, I’ve had a migraine with a stupid ass aura for almost a week now because chronic migraines fucking suck and i was REALLY hoping this one would be over by now, my muscle inflammations that my pain meds are supposed to limit are already beginning to start their itching deep in my muscles so soon they’ll blossom into a whole fibromyalgia fucking episode and become entirely inflamed, my joints in my hands fucking hurt because of the dreary weather so I really need to get into a rheumatologist at some point soon as well and get that shit figured out, I’m nauseas as fuck from all the pain, and I’m moody, hormonal, and just feel like fucking death physically.

I’m just. I give up.

this shit is exhausting and painful and so mentally fucking taxing to constantly deal with and I just want a fucking break from all this fucking shit. I wish I could just … not exist … for even just a little while with how fucking painful existing actually feels right now 🫠😭

[gallusrostromegalus]

Basically. I got screwed.

I am very sorry for how relatively quiet this blog has been but I've been dealing with a very unpleasant situation the last few months, and now I need help.

Essentially, I tried to help someone out, and she took advantage of me, and I have no way to recoup my losses.

Earlier this year, I moved into a new house. Before we sold the old house, a Now-Former friend ran into some trouble and was about to become homeless with pets and a small child. Not wanting them to be on the street, we offered to hold off selling the old house so she could stay there for a little while, if she could pay the cost of the mortgage on that house (because I could afford one mortgage but not two) while we helped her find somewhere more permanent.

I was not making money from this- since I was still paying the utilities and property taxes, I was actually losing money, but willing to soak that in order to help her save up and get her on her feet.

Instead, she:

Never Paid a Dime towards covering the mortgage costs like she agreed ($12,000 for the nine months she was there)

Trashed the house ($500 dump fees for the trash alone)

Let her pets piss and shit all over the house ($1,500 bio hazard cleanup, $4000 to replace the carpet and other damaged flooring)

Caused an electrical issue in the garage ($900 to repair)

Broke the washer, dryer and refrigerator ($2500 to replace)

Broke the fence ($1000 to repair)

When I told her I could no longer financially support her and that I needed to sell the old house, she illegally squatted there for a solid three months and I had to hire a lawyer and actually take her to court to get her to leave ($2,500)

The resulting stress has been, as you can imagine, stressful.

So stressful, in fact, that it aggravated a the medical conditions my husband had and made him extremely sick. He had to go to the hospital and take time off work to recover. Now the health insurance is trying to weasel out of paying his short-term disability claim.

So net, this woman has managed to cost me around $25,000 and that's not taking into account the missed paychecks and medical expenses. I do not have $25,000, and until at least $13,000 of that is spent to repair the damage she did, I legally cannot sell the house to even begin to recoup my losses.

Theoretically, I could sue this woman, but she doesn't have any money and it would be me paying even more money I don't have to get... Nothing. So I'm asking for help to cover the costs of getting the old house ready to sell, my husband's medical expenses, and other expenses incurred by this debacle:

If you can help out in any way-share, donate spare change, anything- I'd be extremely grateful.

Thank you.

[evilgwrl]

Arranged marriage! With ghost where she’s from a small island and ghost comes to collect taxes well the island is just a few hundred short they can make it up next year? Right?! Nah ghosts is like mmmmm I’ll take what yall call a princess mean while she’s struggling as much as the other fokes on the island so when Simon takes her way and finds out she’s never lived the simple life he makes it his mission to show her the good that can out of this arrangement smutty if you would 😭 I’m obsessed with the arranged marriage trope with ghost he’s a cutie patootie

Arranged Marriage w/ Simon Riley

Holy moly I love this…

Thank you for this idea @creepytoes88 I hope you don’t mind that I made him a king, I just wanted it to flow with giving her a better life and the tax collection <3

King!Simon Riley x Reader

Archipelago

CW: Being sold by your family to pay off debt, sharing a bath, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm bc simon knows what to do ;)

Word Count: 2,623

Twisted fingers hooked under the bark, knees scraped with stagnant flora, coiling limbs of bushy thorns blistering around the tropical plains. There was a subtle burn that sunk through your thighs, muscles gnawing at your bones before you finally settled on a thick branch, wind hissing in your ear, almost warning you. You paid no attention.

Pupil-blown eyes stared off to the view in front of you, lapping in the vicious strain of turquoise, untouched coral glistening an array of colours under the harsh sun. There was a trickle of sweat that ran down the back of your neck, your hair thrown into a rough bun as you shielded yourself with raggedy, overworked fingers.

You watched the skerries surrounding your island, a flurry of birds swooping low before nestling down on the warmth of the rocky floor. It was a peaceful sight. Nothing but the low crash of waves to be sound, the occasional calling of a fellow Islander working its way through the palms and out of the sand, before landing in your ear.

You felt the prickle of pain shoot through your feet as you landed on the ground, the grass covered in speckles of yellow dust sticking in between your toes as you hurried down to the village. Any bit of tranquillity soon disappeared as your eyes locked into the sight of the townspeople, the Island far too small to accommodate such needing families.

“Y/N! Where have you been? The King shall be here soon and you’re off running with the fairies.”

Your Mother’s tone was harsh and reprimanding, her eyes tight with wrinkles as she scowled, chucking a makeshift broom at you. You weren’t exactly sure what the difference of you sweeping would make, the life you live here, swept or not, is strikingly different to the one of a King. No matter how beautiful your Island is, your feet are permanently stained with grains of sand, skin is littered with dull scars and fresh scratches.

You understood her worry, offering her a gentle, apologetic smile as you followed her bustle of orders. Your Father was the village Chief, a wise man who led the people to survive without the worry of advanced civilisation.

You were seen as a headcase to the others. A woman whose head wasn’t fixed well enough to her shoulders. A dreamer. Your mind was amplified by the need to do more, to see more. Untouched beauty too turns mundane when you’re not allowed to experience it.

As night fell, the waves seemed to settle, burying themselves in the crops of sand that spanned around you, 10-legged creatures hiding away in the cocoon of a cracked shell. Palms slept with the safety of coconuts that would blossom into the town’s delicacy, the meat tender on the tongues of children, the water fuel for the fishermen. There was a large bonfire lit, the earthly crackle occasionally popping as a spark flew out, hissing against the cool air before dispersing into a drag of smoke.  

Girls chattered around you, smoothing down their appearances as they used crushed berries on their lips and the apples of their cheeks. You were never fussed about the King, hardly paying attention to him on his previous arrivals if he even bothered to show up. You took note of his lack of empathy, normally sending one of his men in his place, unbothered by the Island that’s supposed to fall under his command.

You heard the ship pull up, wood striking against the ground as it split between the beach, a carved woman tangled to the figurehead, flowing hair etched between wood and a man’s knife as she breached the island. They were a loud bunch, deep voices echoing across the Isle as your father walked down to greet them formally.

The air grew silent, thick smog suffocating the air as your father appeared, his figure shaking as he hobbled towards you. Toughened hands gripped your cheeks, stroking the sun-kissed skin to comfort you.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“We- We’re short on our taxes,” he gulped, a hand planted in your matted hair as you scrunched your brows together.

“But how? We’re sensible, we work harder- How?”

“Things happen beyond our understanding sometimes, sweetheart, just know me and your mother love you very much.”

“I know? Why are you-” you stalled “- Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?”

“The King needs a wife,” he hiccupped as realisation set in, spine snapping into a cold flush as you attempted to wriggle free from your father’s grip.

“No-“

“I have to, Y/N, I don’t have a choice!”

“A choice? There’s always a choice! How could you do this to me?” The strain of a sob wracked through your chest, your heart beating eerily slow against your rib cage as you wailed out for your mother who only walked away, her face concealed by strands of hair. Hands coiled around your biceps, dragging you towards the ship as you carried on, cementing your heels into the dirtied sand to anchor yourself.

“Stop resisting,” A harsh voice spoke into your ear, nails breaking the surface of your tender skin as you nipped at the air, wriggling. Your limbs felt mangled as you were thrown over someone’s shoulder, your stomach caving in with a penetrative force as you choked on the air, saline tears streaming down your face.

Aching skin collided with the sand as you were thrown onto the floor, leather boots staring back at you as your head cocked up. His figure was tall, dressed in all black with a row of medals displayed on his breast pocket. His stare was dark, irises the colour of burnt whiskey, pale lashes flickering down at you before looking back up. The rest of his face was covered by a woven garment, handcrafted to perfection, painted with a white skull.

“Did you find it necessary to throw her at my feet like she’s some dog?”

“Your Majesty she was res-“

“It is a yes or no question.”

His voice was thick with malt, a hidden arrogance underlying his words as his eyes spoke for him. A veiny hand was offered to you, light scars tracing his knuckles before he lifted you, admiring you for a brief second.

“She’ll do. I’ll be back in 6 months,” The King spoke roughly.

The sea breeze was tranquil given the circumstances, the ocean rocking your tears to a halt as you huddled yourself away in the captain’s quarters. Your body was trailed with layers of silk, dirtied clothes moulded to your skin as you sniffled. There was a vast smell of salt, almost suffocating you as it burnt through your nose and hair. You scrunched your skin, rubbing at your nostrils before nestling yourself into a pillow.

You awoke to the sound of commotion. You took in the handful of women surrounding you, their hair tied back in a tight bun, protected by a frilly cap. They wore black and white dresses, aprons attached to their fronts and smiles on their faces.

“Good evening, your majesty. Shall we run you a bath?”

You sat up, hands creasing against the sheets below you as your eyes adjusted to the new scenery. You weren’t on the ship anymore.

“Where am I?” You choked out, huffing your chest out to look more intimidating. In reality, you look cowered, skin droopy with betrayal, burst blood vessels evident under your eyes.

“In your private quarters, the King requested we come to you, settle you in.”

You scowled, “I just want to be alone.” They left in a hurry, feet skidding against the floor in a squeak as they shut the large oak doors behind them.

The room was one for Royalty. The large bed was dressed in golden sheets, red swirls detailing the plush headpieces, solid gold baubles along the edges as tall stakes met the ceiling, lace hanging from them for privacy. Your feet hit the polished marble floors; calloused skin not used to such luxury that you almost yelped in unfamiliarity. Glass trickled from the overhead chandelier, an arrangement of crystals advocating flickers of light across the room, an occasional rainbow seeping through like a diamond in the rough.

Oil paintings hung from the walls, detailed gold wrapping around them as the figurines stared at you dauntingly. A plethora of books rested on shelves, a comforting sofa tucked away in the corner, highlights of red bursting through the stuffed pillows, plucked by the finest of feathers.

The room felt suffocating, the air a terminal sickness that wove into your lungs as you realised the severity of the situation. Your father – your parents, had sold you away to the King to pay for lost taxes. You were a miserable sight as you huddled over onto the floor, chest collapsing with cries as you attempted to grip the material beneath your knees, desperate for the sensation of sand.

Simon watched you intently from the door as he cracked it open, a deafening cough sounding from him as you looked up at him, bewildered.

“I understand the circumstances aren’t the best, but your people owed me, and they chose you as collateral.”

“I want to go home,” you hiccupped, facing away from him in humiliation. His leather shoes hit the floor, striding up to you in only a few steps.

“This is your home now, and in a few weeks, we shall be wedded. Whether or not you choose to invite your family is up to you, but I shall not tolerate disrespect. If you didn’t want the maids to tend to you, that’s fine, but I will.”

You watched his stalking figure disappear into another room attached to your quarters, the heavy pour of water indicating that he was running you a bath. You rose to your feet anxiously, popping your head around the corner as you took in the room. A large tub was carved with porcelain, wide in size with golden feet, bubbles guzzling under the powerful stream as the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Undress,” He spoke as you cocked a brow.

“In front of you?” You scoffed.

“You didn’t want the maids, now you have me. Undress.”

Your clothes itched as they were ridden from your skin, bare body flushed under the light as you attempted to conceal yourself from his bruising vision. The water scolded you as you sunk in, muscles relaxing instantly under the soothing oil. It was an irregular feeling.

You heard him shuffle behind you as you turned, eyes gawking wide as you took in his naked figure, cock resting low against his thigh. A squeak slipped through your lips as you turned around in a fluster.

His mask was off, his face a welcoming surprise. His brows were thick, bulging above slit frames, his nose slightly crooked with a masculine appeal to him.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, chest tight, eyes bulging.

“Bathing,” he practically snarled, “move over.”

Your belly felt hot, the unknowing feeling of arousal seeping through your pores as you adjusted in the water, the liquid rising as he stepped in before you were pulled back against him, bottom flushed against his thighs. You were tense.

“Relax, it’s just a bath. We will not do anything until you’re ready but after marriage, I will need heirs.”

“Heirs? I don’t even know your name!”

A hand coiled around your waist, tugging at the tender skin for a moment before it rested, settling at your upper thigh.

“It’s Simon, Y/N.”

“How do you- “

“What kind of King would I be if I didn’t even know the name of the woman I’m marrying?”

The air was hazy with steam, almost suffocating you as you felt yourself relax against his hard chest, delicate twirls of hair tickling against your spine. As your body settled, Simon washed you, entwined rag lubed with delicate soap as he massaged it into the crevices of your skin, any dirt seeping into the water. His fingers were long as they massaged against your scalp, digging any knots out with a gentle force before rinsing it.

You found yourself refreshed as you settled into the sheets once more, body fresh with a floral scent, skin drenched in almond oil, the glistening reflecting against the flame of the fireplace. The bed sunk in as Simon crawled in next to you, menacing frame wracking against yours. It was silent, the usual sound of waves and birds no longer hushing you to sleep.

Your fingers twitched as you played with the hem of your nightgown, letting out a low, exhausted breath.

“I shall not hurt you for as long as you are mine, Y/N. I hope you grow to trust me and understand that I am a man of my word. If you allow me, I would like to show you who I am and the life you can have here.”

You swallowed. There was an itch inside you that couldn’t be scratched, his words only adding fuel to an uncontrollable flame as you turned to face him, cocked up on one arm. Your gown hung low, strap dangerously low on your shoulder as he adjusted his vision back to your face, lips parted with a flushed manner.

“I’ve never experienced anything before.” Your voice was low, an evident streak of self-consciousness staining it as you averted your gaze.

“Let me help you.”

Rugged fingers lifted your gown up, silk resting against your stomach in a hunched manner as Simon gripped at your thighs, spreading them lewdly. He huffed out a hum of appreciation as you jolted in embarrassment. You were so open, so exposed to fresh eyes.

“No one’s ever touched you here?” He asked. You shook your head, gazing down at him with an unspoken innocence. You felt his lips curl against your thigh as he placed a gentle kiss to it, letting it rest against the warm skin before two fingers pulled apart your lips, glistening folds presented before him.

You felt pleasure tickle up your spine as the King placed a small kiss against your clit, a mewl escaping you as you instinctively attempted to press your thighs together. He let out a tsk as he looked up at you, amused by your reaction.

“Relax for me,” he said, arms flushed around your thighs before his tongue soaked up the middle, your juices drenching his lips as you squealed, your fingers wrapping into his dusty hair as he ravaged the taste of you.

The noises you made were wanton, slopping breaths soaking the air as he worked against you, slurping you into his mouth with an aggravated need for you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it before sucking, an obscene scream sounding from you as he continued the assault.

“Taste so fucking good,” he quipped, holding your belly down in place as your hips lifted, clit overstimulated by the amount of pleasure it only just began receiving.

“Sim-Simon, I feel strange- somethings happening,” you croaked, pulling at his hair in an attempt to stop him.

“Let it happen,” he growled, his tongue thrusting against your entrance as a finger pressed against your nub, rubbing it in circular motions as you began to hold your breath.

The pressure in your belly was turmoil like an unknown danger was approaching. Simon didn’t stop, the sound of your breath hicking stirring something primal inside of him as he held you down before the pressure inside you popped, a broken whine piercing the air as you came, hips rocking desperately against the King’s face as he growled against your heat.

He pulled away, spit slick against his chin, cocky smile on his face as you panted, chest rising and falling in a synchronised fashion. Your legs closed instinctively, wetness seeping between your bottom as you shivered, satisfied clit throbbing.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 5

[prompt: face sitting]

male reader x ahn yujin

3.5k words

Yujin is giving you shit when it happens.

It’s been a little over an hour since she turned to you, bored and pouty about it, and asked if you wanted to fuck again.

She gives you shit in the way only the prettiest girls can get away with. Perfect smile, like she's innocent. And all low and breathy in her throat. Hitched around the vowels of your name. Threatening enough that you thought about just immediately capitulating. It was tempting. 

"Or you could stay on the floor like a lame loser bummin’ around in your pajamas." She leans up on the arm of the sofa. "Either way."

Yujin stretches and her sweater is huge. One of those cozy campus crewnecks that everybody seems to have, oversized and inviting and right. Her shorts are ridiculously small, just enough of her stomach peeking out over her waistband for you to want to feel it, touch it, have the pleasure of sinking your tongue into the shallow groove.

She's teasing you because she never quite knows what to do with her energy. Lacks an outlet big enough, really, but is also selfishly delighted in getting any response at all, no matter how halfhearted it might be. You stare at her. You watch and don't speak when she runs her fingers up her stomach to pull her sweater up with it. You groan. She grins. She is pretty, her lips full and eyes soft. The laugh that follows her is because it's always obvious when she's won and you wish your body wasn't so prone to giving away your weaknesses.

"Hey." She blinks slowly, lifting one leg up. Her bare foot, warm, toes flexed, against your thigh, nudges against you once, and again.

"How many orgasms until I feel a little more forgiving towards my good friend who, I know, is super super sorry that he can't afford the pizza money because he chose to use his own allowance to do something as silly as pay rent, I wonder?"

"I paid half last time."

"Doesn't make sense because you ate it all.

"You said you weren't hungry." You start to object because you do have an objection. A list, actually, prepared, of instances you think you're owed. But Yujin arches, and when a separate but related complaint rises swiftly to the foreground, your throat goes dry -

"Orgasm tax."

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she asks, and you’re struggling to answer truthfully, honestly.

She rolls over, lets you see everything she has, the tiniest shorts in the world tugged even higher, the generous curve of her ass and thighs in silhouette. You didn't ask for this but you weren’t about to die without it, you think, looking up from the floor and staring, wetting your lips, absolutely sure. She does it all on her own and it takes an absurd amount of effort to peel your hands off the ground.

"Stay where you are," she snaps, seeing it too - and in a second of deliberate slowness, hooks two fingers into her shorts, tugging them aside before looming over you. "Or you're not fucking me today. At all."

You let your head thud down against the rug beneath you. "That's not fair."

"You've gotta come up with something better than that. You could suck up, beg, maybe I'd forgive you if you just told me how much better I was than the cash I could use on literally whatever."

Your eyes cut down.

Part of you wonders if you've always been such an easy mark - whether being here has changed you, if all these months of dangling carrots in front of you are paying off or if you're just a willing accomplice to your own exploitation.

Part of you isn't stupid. Yujin's taken an almost disturbing amount of pleasure in flaunting herself since the first night you drank too much, said too much, resisted too little - you can tell the way it starts, a smile toying in the corner of her mouth, before she taps the band of her bra, waits to hear you swallow - to hear how hot you get - before she casually asks what it would take, "to convince you", to change the conversation from whether she wants something from the vending machine, or she just forgot it was laundry day, or where the hell that note from Wonyoung had gone, to what she'd like the answer to be. What would you let her do if it got you another chance to get under her shirt, see her all bared, eyes dark and hair like a veil across her collarbones, pretty nipples and swells of her breasts pushed up, until you put your mouth on her.

Yujin tilts her hips so it's easier for you to follow, her hand snaking beneath her body as she speaks. A gentle grunt gets muffled in her sweater, her toes curling into the space between your knees and it hurts, stings a little, the desire you're holding back, and then it goes right through you like fire, sharp.

(Part of you is incredibly stupid - but you think the truth is it doesn't matter.)

Yujin's kneeling over your chest, and her bottom lip, plump and lush, catches between her teeth. "Can you think of anyway to be useful?"

"A lot," you choke. It's true.

Yujin makes a noise. "Proof. Evidence. Put up."

The movement she makes - twisting of legs and stomach flexing and the fabric of her shorts down off her ankles - is one single, fluid motion and for a second you're distracted by how quickly she's gotten you there. Thighs resting over your shoulders, the only thing your lungs seem to remember how to do is want.

"Come on." She bounces her knees a bit. "Dick or mouth, get going."

You should really say something smart, show her how clever and charming you can be, how you've actually got a lot to show the hottest girl in the world - and sometimes Yujin giggles like she's shocked  about it all herself, but right now her eyebrows are raising, expectant and challenging and it makes it difficult to think when there's an open invitation inches away for you to bury yourself in. Your lips feel like sandpaper when you kiss the inside of her thigh. Her hips stutter and drop an inch as your tongue works its way out, thick and obscene and it shouldn't be so thrilling to hear her so low, so urgent when you have no say, really, in how this is going to go -

"Take care of me, yeah?" she practically whispers the words - all while your fingertips drag along her outer thighs until her spine straightens, gets her shoulders pushed back, her breathing louder, somehow, as if you couldn't feel her need without knowing already exactly what you can do for her.

And the most honest thing you could say in the moment, because Yujin has her panties stretched to the side, revealing the inviting creases where her long legs meet her hips - for god’s sake, her pussy is right fucking there, inches in front of you; glistening slightly in her own slick and looking so, so pretty - the words get kissed right into the curve of her thigh: "It's not fair."

The look she gives you makes it worth it. "Excuse me?"

"You asked, didn't you. It's not fair that your pussy's so good that I can't think about anything else."

She huffs, her thighs shaking just a little with the effort of staying put. "So, what," and your mouth closes in, kiss deep, your nose pressed in right at the peak of her folds, her entrance, and you try not to drool as you inhale and drag the flat of your tongue in, hard, where she's desperate for you, "you think this should all go in reverse or something, like I should worship your dick until you stop being a useless perv - "

But the insult dies in her throat. A moan comes out instead, harsh, deep, loud and enough that Yujin slaps her palm over her own mouth before throwing an impatient scowl down at you.

Here's what you'd tell her, if you weren't busy licking circles into the ache leaking from her core, eating her cunt like a starving man, if you had the audacity. Yujin can't control herself. Doesn't help that she's sloppy. When her orgasm hits she will get louder and she doesn't even like the things that come out. That's the thing about Yujin, really. She says all this shit, and really, in the end, she wants a good fuck so bad she can't keep her mouth shut, but the noises she makes are exactly the same as the sounds that you choke on -

Because as pretty and easy and fun to kiss as she can be, the absolute best thing about your relationship is that the more orgasms she gets the less she can breathe, much less control what the fuck she's saying to you. It's cute and hilarious and beautiful, when she forgets, when she gives everything up because in the end it's never any competition, the way she fucks, is so desperate. Her hips work themselves into your grip, over and over and over again, like they are meant for this. 

For getting off on your mouth alone.

All you know right now is that with the way you have your hands on her - one still holding her panties open and the other squeezed tight around the muscle of her outer thigh - it's like her clit's directly in line with the back of your throat. If you press your lips around her pussy and hold them firm, just like the way her knees are starting to tighten around your face, she's going to come. It will hurt her and it will leave her completely boneless, and you've fucked this much to the point where you have learned, well, she can never complain.

Not that she would. The slick dripping down your cheeks and throat and down to the front of your shirt - it's fucking everywhere - makes it obvious: any ability to talk is replaced with her just grinding her pussy against you, bucking and shouting, riding and writhing until you decide her pretty little pink slit can have another taste. 

Her only other option, really, is clenching and throbbing and cumming as hard as she can all over your waiting tongue.

"Hey. Get your fucking mouth back down," she breathes, taking her fingers out of her cunt and then promptly pushing your head back in, "and - uhnn, I - yeah, exactly. Mmmnghh - "

You smile, muffled and hot against the fabric of her thighs, her fingers twisting in the hair behind your ears and tugging firmly. "Oh."

"What did you want again?" she asks - except her body tells a different story, all flushed and keening and, fuck, absolutely soaked from your touch - she rocks against the base of your chin, slumping and dropping down and letting gravity do its work. You work your tongue over her throbbing clit, again, again, and Yujin moans loudly. So pleased.

Just this mess she's made of you. The smell that coats your nose, and chin, the way it feels when she ruts her whole body against the place where she's worked the hardest. Her breath stalls where you start to breathe in, and looking up at the cinched look in her face you press further.

It’s every little circle lick and lave and gentle nudge of the tip of your nose, where the feeling makes her cry out, where the sensation, overstimulated, is close to that perfect balance between too much and not quite enough, all while working your fingers into the swell of her ass, and finally her hips make small, greedy, selfish thrusts into your mouth.

She sobs for you. You sigh, contented, because you don't even need to ask.

"You're so fucking good," she murmurs, heel of her palm pushed into her eyes like she's struggling with a headache. "God, fuck, do that again."

It's so wet on your chin already, but you do it again, just for the way she bucks into it.

You give her the closest thing you have, your thumb riding the rim of her ass, tongue rubbing, stroking her pussy faster. Yujin's teeth work against the insides of her mouth as her hips shift forward, and she is clenching and begging for the cock you know would make her scream if you just stood her on her hands and fucked her from behind - it's such a cruel way of making her work to feel so fucking amazing - but you're here to indulge, and really, when she shivers and pleads the exact way she does, your mouth still full, how are you supposed to do anything besides fucking obey.

Yujin reaches up to grab onto the edge of the couch, anything to brace herself as her cunt sloppily gets wetter. The thickest part of your tongue is good enough for this. Everything about her clit is just this dull, swollen throb. Begging to be worked over the way you're licking at the entrance to her pussy, inside and all, kissing, sucking, kneading, pulling, - fucking her just right - until she starts fucking cursing up a storm.

"Oh god, god, oh fuck fuck, fuck," her hips shift until she's the only one riding, the only one fucking. Until you just get to lay there with your lips slack, drooling open, hands a frame for her entire body while she works your face, and nothing could be better - "yeah, oh, fuck, fuck yes - yeah - fuck, hahhh. You're going to make me fucking cum-"

And you almost say it: that's your line - it's not enough, you'll never have enough of her cunt - her clit or the slit, where she leaks, thick and sticky. Her slick tastes heavy on your tongue, and you can't swallow fast enough. Your fingers are so deep into the pliable skin of her ass - digging and needy and reaching for where she's tightest. Her hands pull sharply at your hair. You feel her, tightening her ass around your finger, cumming wet across your cheekbones and -

It goes on, her body pressing into you, until with a sudden snap of a cry, she cums.

“God, fuck-”

If Yujin doesn't have to see the look on your face after getting her off this hard, it's only because the pressure in her body has her knees across your eyes forced shut. A spasm clenches, almost rhythmic, through her thighs, and god, Yujin just cums her brains out. It's pretty hot. You make it count: pushing your fingers just as deep into her pussy, working, exploring - right as her whole body is tensing and coming apart and your other hand circles, two fingers, dipping down and through the cleft of her ass and into her tightest, hottest hole -

You know better than to rub at her entrance once the ripples and waves start - instead, it's more pressure.

Pushing up as deep as you can and your lips mouthing at her folds while her hips squirm for something harder, something stronger and with intent - like, maybe, if she thinks she is trying to push away, she will start to believe that the mess running from her hole isn't hers. It's yours. All that liquid heat pooling below her and what could ever make sense other than she needs more? She needs the way she trembles and shakes, the way her pussy weeps as you wring it for the pleasure that's well on its way -

You always feel like an idiot after, stupid with how much you enjoy this, what she gives you, but how could it be anything but fantastic, your vision dizzying when it swims from lightheadedness and the lack of oxygen to your brain. Yujin's holding you right where she needs, right between her thighs and next to perfection, just tight enough for you to groan, to make a low whine build in the back of your throat and that gets her, too.

There is the rush and a wave, the heat, of something that crests and breaks in her that has to match the absolute loss of control she seems to have all along - the only part you feel you are sure about is that Yujin always rides her cunt - all dripping lips and aching holes, swollen and flaring and practically begging to be fucked harder and more thoroughly - into every orgasm she's taken from you, until there's no where to run.

Even through your nose, and you're suffocating, her legs trembling with the rush of it all. You're gasping and shaking but she's shaking apart and you need that: to feel her melt from where her body collapses all its weight onto you and the way the aftershocks have to make it seem, at least for a moment, that she’ll never, ever recover.

"Fuck," Yujin sighs, "I fucking hate you."

(Translation: she can't fucking live without you.)

"Any time," you murmur and her entire body falls into you, straddled across your chest and slumped there, sweaty and spent. Your heart beats the moment, trying to remember when it was you could stop feeling this way about your roommate.

A part of you believes that, once upon a time, before all of this started, that your desire, your lust was rooted in seeing a friend who was beyond hot and simply unavailable.

A bigger part of you knows that asking for clarity isn't the point - because maybe, right now, in the way your hand has started massaging the soft skin under the curve of her spine, you should realize you can't live with it never happening again.

"What's my balance," you ask, rubbing your thumb into the crook behind her knee.

"Mm?"

You exhale.

"Two. I think you're good for two."

You laugh. "For real?"

She stretches.

"Or I suppose we can go for four or five, but that means you're paying for dinner, too." Yujin does this thing with her hair when she's excited. Swings it back, smiling wide.

Which is fair, you think, given the pulse between your legs throbbing and twitching as you picture it: the curve of Yujin's waist and the drop of her lower back, her bare ass. Her soaked little slit that can't help but beg to fucked and fucked and fucked, until she's trembling and quivering and leaking-

"Then I'm gonna eat," you promise her, "every last inch. Going to taste you and swallow."

Yujin shifts, sitting astride you.

You hum. "Still interested."

She simply kisses you - breathes you in - tasting herself on your lips and tongue, before leaning back with her palms flat against your chest and taking it slow as she starts to ease you into the kind of sex that doesn't leave either one of you with a throat quite so raw and dry.

So it's quiet in your apartment, just for a little while, when the afternoon starts to settle in and she rolls back onto her heels, not able to support the rest of her. You fuck her deep and it's amazing how quickly you both fall into rhythm. Yujin's clutching hard on either side of your hips. Folding herself back. Trying, by the end, to bury you where her fingers have been.

By the time she gets herself up on the couch, belly flat against the cushions and her hips arched back as she fucks herself with the length of your dick, you're just desperate. Aching in a way you know will happen any moment and even so, you can't even bring yourself to consider stopping because this is perfect - it's everything, really. To push her down, hold her still, and fuck her so thoroughly that she cries and shudders as you spill into her.

To have her.

Yujin holds a part of yourself so tender, something you have kept close for far too long, and watching her with her arm reached behind herself, clutching blindly with her fingers, as her moans go quiet with just these whimpery, little things, a thought occurs to you, of exactly how dangerous your roommate is -

Because with you fucking into her like this, this is more than sex ought to be. More than it’s ever been.

(More dangerous yet is thinking: maybe - perhaps - it is exactly what Yujin wanted, from the start.)

[ixtaek]

Who in the Chain pays taxes?

Twilight - Twilight has helped finance two separate businesses, one of which is right under the castle’s nose. There’s no way he can play the “I don’t have money” card. But he’s also from Ordon, which seems to be its own semi-autonomous region. So I suspect he pays some village taxes but Dusk keeps him from having to pay Hyrulian taxes. She also hired someone to audit MaloMart so it evens out in the end.

Warriors - He definitely pays taxes. Taxes, in turn, pay his salary.

Time - Time does not pay taxes and complains about taxes often. Malon actually is the one paying.

Wild - Pre-Calamity he paid taxes like Warriors. Now, there are no taxes. It’s better this way.

Four - Pays his taxes but sends them with a bill for all the swords he makes the Royal guard which is always, curiously, about twice the amount he just paid in taxes. Picking up the refund is an excuse to see Dot. He uses the fact he pays taxes as evidence he’s an adult when people mistake him for a child.

Hyrule - I am convinced that Hyrule doesn’t really understand money. He does not pay taxes.

Legend - He would not pay taxes except the Hylian equivalent of the IRS has been side-eyeing Ravio’s shop a long time, so to avoid an audit or raid while he’s away, he pays both of their taxes and hates every second. Ravio has never paid taxes in his life and won’t start now.

Sky - You don’t have to pay taxes if you’re married to a goddess~

Wind - In spite of being a literal child he is wanted for tax evasion.

[sailorstar9]

My Stepsister Seduces My Husband, But What She Doesn’t Know Is That...

F/N and Zhongli had their wedding shortly after the Lantern Rite Festival.

Everyone thought F/N found a handsome man, not knowing the truth. They were all deceived by his chiselled face and body; F/N's step-sister was one of those deceived. Because no one, save for the Adepti in Liyue Harbor, knew that Zhongli was the Prime Adepti.

After the most recent 'Rite of Descension', he started to work at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour as its consultant.

A few days after the Lantern Rite Festival, F/N brought Zhongli home to visit her parents. They brought along three large boxes of gifts along with Gaming and a fellow guard from the Transport Agency. It was Zhongli first meeting with his wife's family.

The presence of Zhongli and the two Transport Agency guards scared F/N's biological father and stepmother.

The dinner table was set after Zhongli paid Gaming and his partner for their services.

F/N's step-sister, dressed to the nines, kept helping Zhongli to food, trying to impress him. “My sister is merely a junior tax agent working at the Ministry of Civil Affairs. And yet she found such a wonderful man like brother-in-law. I envy her; unlike me who works hard training under Director Yun every day, afraid to eat more just to maintain my figure. I might be able to perform alongside the Director some day and may not even find a partner as good as brother-in-law.” she sighed, showing off by pinching her slim waist.

F/N's step-sister, Zhen Yu, was brought by F/N's stepmother; their two families were from divorced and remarried families.

A few years ago, F/N's mother died from a rock slide while working at The Chasm. Shortly after that, F/N's father quickly got together with Zhen Yu's mother after a meeting with the marriage broker.

Ever since Zhen Yu entered the household, the two step-sisters never got along. Zhen Yu especially loved competing with F/N. When Y/N pulled her hair into a bun with a hair stick, Zhen Yu would also bun up her hair the next day with an extra hair stick. When F/N was thirteen, a boy from the neighbourhood gave her a love letter. Zhen Yu then intentionally wore a floral dress in front of him and claiming F/N was dirty and didn't bathe. Seeing the boy flee from embarrassment, Zhen Yu smirked to herself. Later, when F/N approached Yun Jin for an apprenticeship, Zhen Yu followed suit and applied. She cried pitifully, saying she didn't dare to ask for much. And if her real father was around, he would definitely be willing to send her.

The Yun-Han Opera Troupe apprenticeship fees were very high and the family could only afford to send one person.

F/N's father, feared being accused of favouritism by his new wife, sent Zhen Yu to Yun Jin.

F/N gritted her teeth and started working, using the Mora she saved from her salary to pay for her way through law school.

Later, when F/N brought a classmate home to introduce him as her boyfriend, Zhen Yu also stole him from F/N.

At this moment, when Zhongli heard Zhen Yu's words, he put down his chopsticks with a bang. He frowned slightly but didn't say anything, just overturning his bowl on the table. “My apologies.” he started. “I don't like anyone, except my wife, serving me food. I'm disgusted by the saliva.”

Zhen Yu was stunned, her face flashed with embarrassment. She looked at Zhongli plaintively, “I'm not a stranger.” she whined.

Zhongli did not say a word and just pointed his knee with a finger. “Move your feet under the table away from my legs.”

F/N peered under the table cloth, noticing Zhen Yu's foot was reaching under her chair to try and touch Zhongli's leg.

Zhen Yu was instantly dumbfounded; after all, this trick of hers always worked. It's not something a normal person would point out directly. Seeing everyone in the family glance at her, she was so embarrassed that she quickly explained, “Brother-in-law, have you all misunderstood something? If you don't like me serving food, it's okay. I know my sister is usually petty, but I really don't mean anything by it.”

F/N's step-mother immediately spoke up, “Mr. Zhongli, this is Zhen Yu's goodwill. She usually looks down on everyone, never being so gentle and caring. It's just a kind gesture. Did F/N say anything to cause you to misunderstand?”

F/N father also chimed in, “Our table is small. Bumps are inevitable. Don't think so much about it. Zhen Yu is just caring for her brother-in-law.”

As F/N watched her father's and step-mother's behaviour, she couldn't help but sneer. Zhen Yu had done this kind of thing not just once or twice; they had always turned a blind eye and they weren't any different now.

As soon as they finished speaking, Zhongli unbuttoned the top button of his suit with a somewhat amused smile. F/N was about to get angry at her father's words, but he patted her shoulder. Then, he manifested a sharp Geo shard from his palm. Letting the shard twirl above his palm, he said, “F/N has told me everything about the family. Let me make it clear to you all. F/N is my wife. If you still want to bully her in the future, don't blame me for being ruthless.” snarling at the three of them after he dispelled the Geo shard, he added, “Respecting you as F/N's parents, I won't speak any dirty words. If you don't want trouble, don't let your attention wander to my wife.”

F/N's father opened his mouth, his face red with rage, wanting to say something, but he knew he was helpless against a Vision user. Infuriated and trembling, he yelled, “How dare you... how could you find such ruffians?”

F/N simply cleared her throat and grabbed Zhongli's arm. “Ruffians? Dad, don't talk nonsense. Don't you know Zhongli is a renowned consultant at Wangsheng Funeral Parlour?”

Zhen Yu and F/N's step-mother's faces turned so ugly it could have dripped ink. They probably couldn't continue eating that meal.

Zhongli didn't say much as the conversation had ended. “it's getting late.” he started. “You should rest early. I'll take F/N home.” with that, he wrapped his arm around F/N's waist and walked away.

Turning back to her childhood home as she and Zhongli walked to the walk path, F/N saw Zhen Yu glaring furiously. F/N, it's not over between us. She swore. I must have your man. There's no cat in the world that doesn't steal fish. Just you wait and see.

“Looks like my step-sister has set her sights on you.” F/N turned to Zhongli.

F/N was surprised when her father paid her a visit at her workplace, bringing ham to apologize.

“Your mother's favourite was ham, you know.” F/N's father spoke, picking a piece of Minty Meat Roll at Wanmin Restaurant at lunchtime.”

“Alright.” F/N sighed, knowing her father's underlying intentions. “Here's the address.” she wrote down her current lodging address on a piece of paper.

“Let Zhen Yu bring them over to you.” F/N's father suggested. “She also wants to apologize to you.”

Using family ties to deceive me. F/N wondered after her father left the restaurant after paying for his share of the meal. Was it just a ploy to get Zhen Yu my address? It seemed like my sister hadn't given up; still determined to win Zhongli over.

Sure enough, that weekend, Zhen Yu showed up at F/N's door, knocking. She was dressed in a figure-hugging qipao and high heels.

Seeing F/N answer the door, she hesitated for moment, collecting her flirtatious look. “Your place is hard to find. My feet ache from all that walking.” she whined.

“Then, why don't you hire a transport agency?” F/N was not amused.

“How could I?” Zhen Yu complained. “I've come to apologize in person. I wasn't being polite the other day.”

Then, she simply entered without taking off her shoes and gave a glance around. “Is Zhongli not at home?”

“He's out getting bamboo shoots.” F/N answered, just as Zhongli came in with several bamboo shoots in a basket.

As soon as he saw Zhen Yu, his eyebrows farrowed and he gave F/N a questioning look.

“I couldn't help it.” F/N shrugged. “She sticks like glue.”

Zhen Yu's eyes lit up when she saw Zhongli. She practically skipped over, but before she could take a few steps, she tripped and fell in front of the married couple. She rubbed her legs awkwardly, “I think I sprained my foot. Honey, could you help me up?”

“You're an adult and you can't even walk properly without tripping on flat ground.” F/N chided. “Maybe you should get checked up at the Bubu Pharmacy.”

Zhen Yu pouted when Zhongli just walked over her and into the kitchen.

“Why bother with her?” the Lord of Geo looked at his wife as they prepared ingredients for Oncidium Tofu.

“She's like a rush that you can't shake off.” F/N replied, slicing the tofu.

Zhen Yu, feeling awkward, noticed that neither of the couple were paying attention to her. After a while, she picked herself up before darting towards the kitchen. “Is Zhongli the one who cooks at home? It must be hard for you; working to support the family then coming home to cook for my sister. When I have a husband, I won't let him cook for me. Cooking is women's work. Men shouldn't be in the kitchen.”

Zhongli poured himself a cup of Chenyu Brew, blew across the tea cup and took a sip to calm himself down. Rolling up his sleeves, he downed the entire cup, revealing his entire sleeve tattoo. “What's on the menu tonight? Let's cook this.” he looked coldly at Zhen Yu.

“Cook...” Zhen Yu stuttered, her face turning pale at the golden diamond-shaped tattoos decorating Zhongli's arms. “In our house, both of us handle the inside. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I don't have a problem.” Zhen Yu stammered. “I just feel sorry for my sister. It's not easy for you.”

“You're not someone to me.” Zhongli replied dismissively. “Why should I pity you?”

F/N pulled the still shell-shocked Zhen Yu away, “It's better to just give up. Not all men fall for your tricks.”

“Wasn't my brother-in-law just joking?” Zhen Yu recomposed herself with a forced smile as she prepared to leave F/N's house. “He's really funny.”

“Don't worry, mom.” Zhen Yu assured her mother once she returned home. “There was a small mistake there. There's no man I can't handle. I'm set on winning Zhongli and making F/N miserable. You didn't visit their house. You don't know they live in a house bigger than ours and they have more antiques than us. It's just her husband seems a bit off but rich people all have their quirks. It's normal. F/N is not as attractive as me. Why should she have such a good husband? She must have tricked him. Wait and see. I used to steal all her boyfriends. Now I will steal her husband too. Men are all the same.”

“Now, what is this about the ex-fiance of yours?” Zhongli breathed, the couple were cuddling in bed after a night of lovemaking.

Acting upon Zhen Yu's instigation, F/N's former fiance had harassed the couple during lunchtime.

“He's just a cheating scumbag that's not worth mentioning.” F/N replied. “We cut off any contact a long time ago. Zhen Yu is bothering you, not me.”

“So, someone's still yearning for your husband and you're not jealous?” Zhongli quirked an amused smile.

“Of course, I get jealous.” F/N playfully poked Zhongli's bare chest. “But I know not everyone can seduce my man.”

Days later, F/N's relatives begun to gossip about Zhen Yu's dismissal from her apprenticeship. She had bullied her fellow junior troupe members and attempted to seduce the troupe elders' sons to get more prominent roles which backfired when Zhongli made a formal complaint of her misconduct directly to Yun Jin. She was permanently expelled from the opera troupe, ending her dreams of performing alongside the troupe director.

[morganbritton132]

You probably get this all the time, and I don't know why I only thought about this now, but I'm suddenly fascinated by the idea of a government employee who knows about the Upside Down that has been tasked with keeping an eye on Eddie's TikTok page and just constantly being so frustrated

I never get this but I have thought about it at length!!! Lol.

I just picture one overworked and underpaid agent being tasked with the whole *hand waving* Hawkins Situation.

There used to a time when the Hawkins Project was a coveted position given to the best agents with the highest clearance, but now… Now all the gates to the other world have been closed. There’s been no activity in three decades. Brenner’s dead. The Russians defuncted their projects. The girl – Eleven or Jane, or whatever – hasn’t blown anything up since the nineties.

The Hawkins job is a babysitting job with CIA-level clearance, and it’s just… it was supposed to be a cakewalk but. There’s just… there are so many of them.

And for a while, they were spread all over the country.

One of them is a US Senator now and she called the head of the FBI ‘a bitch’ and ‘a coward’ on a hot mic last week, and maybe.

Maybe for the sake of national security and their own sanity, maybe this agent pulled a few strings and dotted a few more I’s than they’re authorized to just to get Lucas Sinclair, Maxine Mayfield-Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, Nancy Wheeler, and Robin Buckley back in Chicago.

Maybe they did that. There’s no paper trail, but maybe they did.

It’s easier to keep track of a ‘party’ of people if most of them are in the same state.

This Party – as they fondly call themselves – barely qualified as a threat anymore. They are barely a concern at this point. Only a few of them are considered dangerous enough to require anything more than the occasional check-in. Those people being Jane Hopper, James ‘Jim’ Hopper, Nancy Wheeler, Murray Bauman, and – much to this agent’s annoyance – Edward Munson.

Eddie wouldn’t be a cause for concern if he wasn’t so goddamn loud. He is in no way a threat to national security but the CIA doesn’t love when people allude to a defuncted Cold War project that resulted in an inter-dimensional serial killer murdering a bunch of small town high school students.

This agent does not believe that Eddie Munson knows what an NDA is or that he signed one.

It is one thing to write songs about demon bats and hell spilling into small town Americana or to make your album cover resemble the charred remains of Henry Creel’s disfigured body (‘yeah’ the agent thinks, ‘you’re not that slick, Munson’) but it is something else to announce to your millions of TikTok followers that you got rabies in a hell dimension.

This agent does not have enough pull to persuade Congress to outright ban TikTok and actually thinks that a TikTok ban would be an overreach of government control, but damn if it would not have made their life easier. Though they fear that Munson would just go to YouTube and the idea of longer content makes them shiver.

And by the way, this agent expected better from Steven Harrington!

This agent liked Steve! He was one of their favorites!!

Steve didn’t make waves. He lived a quiet life, paid his taxes, and barely had a social media presence. He was an absolute dream to be monitoring until Eddie downloaded that cursed clock app.

Steve was never viewed on the same threat level as Jane Hopper or Murray Bauman, but he was a closely monitored subject due to his long-term injuries and his time spent in the alternate dimension and the Russian bunker under Starcourt Mall. Despite close monitoring, there is no note in his file of any digression until Eddie started shoving Tiktok in his face.

This agent sits in their office at the CIA’s Chicago location.

In the basement, at the end of a long dusty corridor, beneath a buzzing fluorescent light, they get a notification on their computer. It’s from Tiktok, and this agent breathes in slowly. They rub at the forming headache between their brows and names it Eddie Munson.

They click the notification, waits a second for the shitty wifi to bring them to the app, and watches as Steve Harrington says, “Technically we’re time travelers.”

And they sigh.

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU

Part 1 | Next

Wow, okay, people seem to really like this. Awesome! Whelp, here's part 2!

“Alright, order.  Order.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a Triple Nasty with cheese, extra mustard and pickles.” Laughs rang out at Dash’s remark as everyone settled in to their seats.  Sam, who stood at the front of the room by a blackboard, just gave the quarterback a flat look while Danny and Tucker snickered at the teacher’s desk.  The group was meeting in an empty classroom at Casper since most were still Casper students, at least for another couple of months until graduation.  Jazz and Kyle, both of whom were attending school in Gotham, were dropping in to visit and attend the meeting.

“We are now beginning the first meeting for the Green Amity Co-o-”

“Oh, we are not calling it that!” Paulina cried out.  Sam’s eye twitched and started to glow slightly as those around the Latina nodded in agreement.

Jazz quickly stepped in.  “While naming something Green in a city that has a known meta Eco-terrorist might not be a good idea, we can discuss names later.  For now, let’s focus on more important matters for the co-op.”

“Right,” Sam sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders.  “So has everyone had a chance to look over the info and pictures Jazz and Kyle were able to gather?”  Getting various conformations, the goth nodded. “Does anyone have any objections on using the building as a Gotham based co-op?”

“Not really.”

“Nope.” 

“None from me.”

“Okay, so we’ll put down an offer to buy the building,” Sam nodded before shuffling around some papers in her hands.  “Next on the agenda is rent.”

“Won’t we own the building?  Why would we need to pay rent?” Dash asked.  Kwan nodded while several others in the group just dropped their heads.

“Because we need to pay for things like utilities and taxes,” Valarie shot back, arms crossed as she stared down her former friend group.

“Not to mention that we should collect some money for potential repairs that will be needed in the future,” Wes added, nodding.  Dash turned and glared at both of them.

“As Val and Wes said, we may own the building, but we still need to gather money to pay for things like water, electricity, internet.  Things needed to make the building usable,” Jazz explained in a less condescending tone, mullifying the blond.

“So we need to figure out how much each utility is and split it between everyone, with a little extra on top to make a fund for repairs?” Danny clarified.

“That is a start, but some people will use more of some things than others.”

“Well, we can always start with it and adjust as we get a better idea of how much it costs and who uses up what amount,” Star said as she stood up and walked over to the board.  She picked up a piece of chalk and began writing down numbers.  “Do we know how much we have to pay for property tax?  From what I could find on the internet, the average cost of utilities in Gotham is about $118 a month, give or take.”

“That lines up with what I saw too, though that doesn’t include internet or phone plans,” Val nodded.

“Well, our phone plans aren’t likely to change, so we don’t need to worry about that.  Most internet plans start about $40 a month,” Tucker added.  Star nodded and added the 40.

“As for property taxes, given the building’s estimated amount, it would be about $15,900 a year, which is paid quarterly.”

Star continued writing.  “So 15,900 a year is 1325 a month.  We currently have 11 people, so that’d be 120.45 per person per month just in taxes.”

“So utilities plus internet and taxes would put us at about $242 a month.”

“Don’t forget insurance and repairs.  Gotham isn’t the safest place, what with all the supervillains,” Danny added.

“Never mind random ghosts dropping in just to fight Fenton.  We’re probably going to have to repair the place more often than the average,” Kwan nodded.

“Hey!  Don’t pin the property damage from ghost fights on me!  It’s mostly the GIW doing that!”

“We know, Danny, but you can’t deny that there are going to be at least a few ghosts that will come just to fight, and the GIW are likely to follow them.”  Danny crossed his arms and grumbled, but conceded.

“We should just double the amount we have for now.  That way we can cover the basics and have enough to cover anything that could come up, while most can afford it with a part-time job,” Tucker suggested.

“It’s a start,” Jazz agreed.

“And if we need to adjust it, we can always discuss it again,”Mikey pointed out.

“Alright, so all in favor of starting rent at $485 a month, raise your hand.” Sam counted the hands in the air.  Eleven.  “Very well.  Up Next: rules.”

“Oh come on!  We’re no longer kids and are going to college!  Why would you wanna create rules?!” Dash protested.

“Just because we’re adults now doesn’t mean that there aren’t still rules we have to follow,” Jazz responded.  “Pretty much any place you could live would have quiet hours and cleanliness requirements.  Plus I’m pretty sure there are places or things that you wouldn’t want others to mess with.” More grumbling was heard but no more protests.  “Now, from what I’ve observed and read on the internet, in general quiet hours are generally between 10-11 pm to about 8 am during the week, with it rolling back an hour on the weekends.  I don’t need it to be that strict, but I would like to have some quiet by the time I’m going to sleep.”

“What exactly do quiet hours entail?  Is it like a curfew?” Mikey asked, pushing up his glasses and looking at the two actual college students.

“Nah man, they’re just the hours you have to be quiet for.  Ya can do whatever ya want, so long as yer not disturbing anyone or keeping them up.  Just don’t do anything that’ll get the cops or Bats on ya, and yer good,” Kyle explained.

“Sweet!”

“So what should these quiet hours be?  Not going to lie, but midnight seems like a good start, especially if you have early morning classes,” Wes spoke up.

“Midnight is good for me.”

“Aw, but what if we want to have a party!”

“Well, if you start at 8, that gives you four hours,” Sam explained, raising her eyebrow.

“A 4 hour party seems to be enough, especially since not all of us would want to have a crazy party outside our door all night,” Val stated, glaring at Dash and Paulina.

“It seems common consensus is quiet by midnight.  What about when they end?”

“Well, most of us will likely have classes starting by 9.  Including travel time and getting ready, we’re likely to be up around 8 or so.  That’d give us 8 hours of quiet to study and fall asleep.”

“So midnight to 8 am for quiet hours?  Any objections?” None were made.

The meeting continued on in much the same way, with only a few protests to some rules, mostly related to shared chores and the creation of a chore schedule.  But these protests were quickly silenced by a glare from Valarie that slowly glowed a slight red the more protests were made.

“Alright, I think we’ve covered everything we set out for today’s meeting,” Jazz said, tapping some papers against the desk she sat at.  She took over the meeting as Sam grew more annoyed.  The goth was now sitting between Danny and Tucker, who were both offering small touches of comfort.  “Remember, if you have any questions, share them in the discord server.  And if you have any suggestions for a name, please feel free to send them to Wes, who will compile them into a poll so we can vote on them in a week.  Now, would anyone like to add anything else?”

A few mutters and shakes were the answer.

“Very well, that concludes this meeting.  Hope everyone has a good summer, and when we next meet, hopefully, it should be in our new building.”

***

Did I seriously just write 1363 more words of set up? Yes, yes I did. I have no regrets. We should be in Gotham starting next chapter and get up to the shenanigans then.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there! I started writing this while I was baking a pie for my own mother.

I am going back and forth on whether Phantom Planet is canon or not, but either way, all of Amity Park knows about Danny in this, but not the outside world, and especially not the GIW. While I do read a lot of bad parent Maddie and Jack, I much prefer to have them as good parents that love and accept both Danny and his little clone/cousin/sister.

Sorry guys, but Bruce is not adopting either Phantom.

Again, feel free to leave suggestions for names for the Co-op, as well as for this little AU itself. Also, suggestions for shenanigans and powers our liminal teens might have outside just glowing eyes.

[magicbystarlight]

Star Crossed — Prologue

Hux x Reader, Ren x Reader

Summary: Years after leaving behind your life as a Jedi, an unexpected encounter forces you to confront the past you wanted to forget. Divider.

Warnings: 18+, canon-typical violence, sexually explicit scenes later, additional warnings as needed. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 1.1k

Lieutenant Atrox stalks through the halls, his face pulled taut with displeasure. It’s an expression you've grown familiar with in these last three months. You’re on his heels, nonetheless, with a datapad clutched tightly to your chest.

The Lieutenant and yourself had only arrived on board the Finalizer the night before from the Exheres System. He had spent the the time drunk while you spent it combing through three years worth of trade routes, ship manifests, store inventories, and planetary exports. It had been to quell the nagging feeling you’d gotten during a review of the last audit of an inconsequential clothing shop on an inconsequential planet, but it had paid off.

"Please, sir, if you would just listen I can—"

"I don’t have time for your theories. Ren will be here at any moment."

An unnecessary reminder. The headache that plagues you is evidence enough that the Sith had already boarded and subjected some poor soul to the Force. A day early of his expected arrival. Normally, you'd have found sanctuary far from any Force User. Twice before you'd been on the same vessel as Kylo Ren and twice before you'd shoved yourself into a dark corner far, far away. But this is important.

You hope.

"But I found it, sir. There's a bimonthly shipment of polyfibe that—“

“Polyfibe is the most common fabric in the galaxy.”

The hallway ends at two large doors. They open with a whoosh, revealing a room with a long table. It’s thankfully still empty. “It is, but it can’t be made on Sentrena which is where the shipments originate. Or any of the planets in that star system. They don’t have the proper resources or machinery.”

His steps came to a halt with a defeated sigh as the doors shut. “Could it be imported and shipped from there?”

“If they wanted the price quintupled.”

“Some people are stupid with their money.”

“Yes, but,” the datapad lit up as your fingers work deftly to bring up the list, “there’s no inventory of polyfibe or anything made of polyfibe in the shop.”

He takes the offered tablet, eyes roving over the list. His brows scrunch and he shoves it back into your hands. "When is the next shipment?”

“Today.”

“Send a squad to intercept.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

His fingers grip your upper arm, pulling you back harshly as you try to turn. “You better be right about this or you’ll find yourself shoveling shit somewhere for wasting my time.”

A nod in understanding is all you muster before he releases his grip. Scurrying away, the door barely opens in time for you to squeeze through. Or at least, you thought you had before you collided with a solid surface.

With a glance up, you meet the icy gaze of General Armitage Hux. A scowl adorns his face as it has in every hologram you've ever seen of him. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

You can hear the sneer in his voice as you continue past him. "I'll never understand why we use civilians for secretaries."

—

"Chromafiber?"

The hologram of Sergeant Eviena is shaky, but her voice comes through clear. "Yes. It appears they were making suits of it."

You nod, pacing the small, sterile office. “For camouflage. Stealth suits.” Chromafiber is expensive and difficult to work with in unskilled hands. "The best money could buy. Who are they for?"

"They wouldn’t say, but" she reaches into her pocket and produces what appears to be a clothing patch with a familiar, flame-like insignia, "we found a batch of these hidden away."

It’s the worst case scenario. You expected smuggling of some sort, perhaps avoiding taxes or bringing in some other outlawed substance. But they’ve been providing a lethal advantage to the Resistance, possibly for years. “Detain them. Send me every file you find. On the ship, in the shop, on any droid. Everything."

Despite you having no authority to give such commands, Evenia nods. “Yes ma’am.”

The hologram dissolves and you’re left alone once more. You don’t linger to soak in the victory, retracing your steps across the ship to where the meeting had been taking place. It’s been nearly two hours since you left and you've heard nothing on comms about them being finished. By the closed doors and the sweating lower officers waiting just beside them, it’s safe to assume the meeting continued. The pain in your head is dull. A good sign. Perhaps Atrox will be in a decent mood for once.

You wait, leaning against a wall further down a hallway that leads the opposite way of the docks. Two dozen reports have already chimed on your datapad. They’re easy enough to run through the programs you’d created to find key phrases, locations, names, patterns, etc. There’s nothing the programs recognize in them, but names pop out to you as you skim. They’re all common names. Too common.

Fake names designed to be overlooked. You’ll have to consider adding a program to make sure something like this isn’t missed again. You pull information aside as you continue to scroll, letting it drop in a new document for later review. No matter how well they hid their connections, there was always a trace left behind.

A commotion has you looking up. The doors open and the sounds of someone in hysterics floods the corridor. A man backs out of the room, pleading. Only one person inflicts that sort of fear. You don’t have time to flee.

Pain erupts in your skull. Blinding, burning white pushes from every corner. Something cracks. You try to resist, to push back against the Force, but it’s too much, too close, too late. A locked door that had held for more than a decade splinters and explodes beneath the pressure. The pain disapperates, but it’s no relief. Every part of the world around you turns bright and vibrant, connected and overwhelming. A sense suppressed for so long snapped back like a rubberband.

There’s a hand on your face. Green eyes boring into yours. "I love you." Brown Eyes. "Stay with me." Yellow eyes. Blinding red.

Gasping, ragged breaths drag air back into your deprived lungs. Cold seeps through the gloves. Your hands are on the floor. Shattered datapad between them. Black boots behind it.

He sinks to his knees. “You’re alive.” The robotic overlay can’t hide his surprise. Fingers on your chin make you stare into the abyss of a mask. Kylo Ren. But beneath the mask you feel him. A twisted, darker version, but still him. Alive.

Ben Solo is alive.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hi! What do you think would happen if there was a disease that turned people into yanderes and the reader is immune? So she’s the only sane one, which everyone around her falls in love (romantically and platonically) and turns obsessive?

Hrmm I'd like to take a different approach to this than the original *yandere apocolypse* of which I was thinking. Just wrote down some odd thoughts for this one!

Perhaps two thirds of the world has been inflicted with this specific disease-- making this new population become violent, deranged and utterly--obsessively, in love.

There's the beginning stages of violence and death of course, causing a great chunk of the world to go mad as some yanderes who must share a darling cannot do so. Celebrities, idols, and your local barista who's friends with everyone in town, are constantly in a tug of war battle between their yanderes.

But life seems to somewhat settle down. Everyone still functions as they would in society-- going to the bank and paying their taxes, remaining at their 9 to 5 jobs. But there are far more murders, laws are no longer followed; the daytime has become just as dangerous as the night.

Our dear reader, a cashier for a chain grocery store, has so blessedly not been affected by this newfound disease. They know their residence in a large city and with a social job would not leave them unharmed by this new change to the world. So, they begin to attend support groups for 'darlings,' the victims and (mostly) sane population that has been left. At first the other victims were people they had never seen before, seemingly innocent and normal people who just wanted to go on with their lives. They all seemed to lead a much harder living, with their unending stalkers and vicious pursuers that made them sob for hours as everyone else listened to their woes.

Reader had yet to be targeted, of which offers them a sliver of relief-- until they fear perhaps they have been affected by the disease. But their life continues, without any impulse or desire to snatch anyone up, and without any stalkers or murderers on their trail. Life is almost, weirdly, normal.

They don't watch the news anymore, they go home before it gets dark, and refuse to take any extra shifts with anyone who's been affected by the outbreak. They continue to go to the meetings, out of solidarity and precaution in case they begin to hear footsteps behind them when walking from home or find eyes peeping behind their curtains. However, the support group seemed to have slowly begun to change. Its regular members were beginning to dwindle, less and less showing up regularly. And, there seemed to be an addition of.... hostility, amongst the newer members.

The support group "leader", a man who has thrown reader off since day one, seemed to be far more invested in hearing their experiences with these "attackers" as he called them. As was everyone else, of which were slowly becoming vaguely familiar faces. Not familiar enough to mention it, but to the point where it was beginning to get eerie.

It wasn't until they went to their next shift for work, did they realize why everyone seemed so odd. Customer after customer came up, all purchasing odds and ends that could be suspicious if one paid close enough attention. But all that reader could focus on, was how the eyes of each person seemed to linger upon them, taking notice of their loose work shirt and unkempt hair. It was a common sound to hear heavy breathing from the other side of the counter, odd compliments on how beautiful their eyes were, or deafening silence from customers that didn't utter a word but stared in complete captivity. The next support group meeting, those nameless faces seemed to be far more recognizable. At this point, the original members of which reader had originally met, were nowehere to be found. All that remained, were the uncomfortably familiar customers, and the oddly charismatic leader.

Every eye seemed to be on them, each waiting for them to speak on their experience. But despite the creepy, lustful gazes and hateful glares at one another, there was some form of supportiveness that came from the group. They gave reassuring pats and squeezes, some getting a little handsier than others.

There were a few that reader recognized more than others: the silent, dark haired man that came to their register everyday, the businesswoman who always seemed to loosen her scowl once she saw them, and the couple who seemed a tad more than "friendly." Out of all of them though, reader felt the most reassurance from the group leader-- the man who seemed to dote on them like a parent would, though there was still fear over his constantly nagging questions and downward stare behind his glasses.

It was once reader decided to stop showing up to the increasingly more recent group sessions, did things start to turn sideways. There would constantly be a knock at the door, asking why they weren't there, if something was wrong, if a stalker had gotten to them. But it wasnt until recently did they feel they were being watched, followed, stalked.

Things started to go missing, from their favorite pair of underwear to little knickknacks kept on their desk. Reader had never felt the effects of the disease and its victims, but ever since the uncomfortable shift in the support group, life hadn't been the same.

One fateful afternoon, there came another series of knocks. Reader couldn't take it anymore, and had long given up on answering the door. The knocking continued, however. Thered be a pause, a moment of hesitation, before the pounding began again. Muffled voices could be heard outside readers front door, and suddenly there grew a great fear in their chest.

Not long after, the knocking seemed to occur in other areas around the house. The backdoor echoed as glass was banged on, the windows of their bedroom seemingly pressured by fists that begged to be let in. Their name was called from outside, small and booming voices all begging to be let in, promising that they were only there to help.

Reader covered their ears, crawling under the blankets and rocking themselves to the hope that the noise would go away. And eventually, It did-- only to be replaced with the sound of shattering glass and rushed footsteps.

[steddieas-shegoes]

is that tax fraud?

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm-up round prompt ‘taxes’

rated t | 671 words | cw: language | tags: they’re just so stupid, and I love them, look Steve is here!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never filed taxes?” Jeff asked Gareth as they sat around trying to write a song.

Keyword: trying.

Now it looked like they were gonna be figuring out how to keep Gareth out of fucking prison for tax fraud.

“I thought our band accountant handled it!” Gareth exclaimed.

“We don’t have a band accountant! The label just handles our money!” Jeff exclaimed back.

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Eddie, the voice of reason at this moment, held his hands up towards them. “Technically, Gareth only turned 18 two years ago. That’s only two years of back taxes. And if he’s honest, it’ll be fine! He probably didn’t even make enough the first year for them to care.”

“Well, I did get an inheritance from my grandpa who died,” Gareth said unhelpfully. “Does that count as income?”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“This is a joke,” Freak said from his spot on the couch. “Has to be.”

“Oh my god, our drummer is actively committing tax fraud,” Jeff put his head in his hands.

“Guys, it’s fine! I’ll just file it all this year,” Gareth assured them.

“We should call someone. Right? Someone should be told about this,” Eddie started pacing the floor, wearing a trail into the shag carpet.

Who even put shag carpet in here? Shag was terrible.

The door swung open and Steve walked in holding three large pizzas and a grocery bag full of sodas.

“They didn’t have any Mountain Dew, but that’s probably for the best. You guys have a conference call in an hour so eat up,” he said as he started setting everything on the coffee table. He looked around when he realized it was way too quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Stevie. I fear our drummer may be going to prison.”

Steve paled. “What? Why?”

“He forgot to tell the government he has money. For two years.”

“He what?” Steve looked at Gareth to explain.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to file my own taxes! I thought we had a guy!”

Steve looked between all of them. He looked at Gareth.

“You do have a guy. The label provides a guy. I think his name is Sam? Maybe Shane.” Steve shook his head. “Either way. You have a tax guy. He filed for all of you last year.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

“What do you mean? We all filed for ourselves last year. Except Gareth, apparently,” Jeff was frowning at the floor.

“Uh, well, you may have given double the money, then,” Steve laughed, though this wasn’t exactly funny.

“So let me get this straight: the label provided a guy to do our taxes without telling us. We all file our own taxes after this guy already did. No one caught it. Gareth’s the only one who hasn’t double paid into the fucking government?” Eddie asked, face red with shame or anger, it was hard to say which.

“Yeah, appears so.”

“Fuck you guys. Had me worried I was going to prison and I’m the only one who’s done shit right!” Gareth laughed. He reached for a slice of pizza and sat back in his chair, smug smile on his face. “Feels good to have my taxes paid.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freak rolled his eyes. “So how do we get money back if we double filed?”

“Not sure we can,” Jeff sighed. “Probably isn’t worth figuring it out anyway. It’s not like we were rolling in for last year’s taxes.”

“But this year…” Eddie started.

They all looked at each other and nodded.

Yeah. This year would be different. They’d skyrocketed after the release of their first album and their first tour. Money was…pretty fucking great.

“So…pizza?” Steve asked.

They all nodded and started grabbing for their food.

“If you guys want, I’m sure Nancy can try to find a way to get money back. She’s good at that stuff,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, she’d call us idiots.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Hey!”

[laugtherhyena]

Finally getting around to posting refs of my termina ocs, writing these kinds descriptions takes longer than i thought it would.

Character story

The silent Bohemian night reigns with an underlying uneasiness to it. You can't help but feel as if something sinister lurks in the horizon, just beyond where your eyes can reach..

In an attempt to ignore the chill underneath your skin, you reminisce about what has led you to this point in life…

You are the bastard daughter of the minister of All-mer’s church. From the moment you were able to understand the world around you, you knew you were not born to be loved. Your mother hardly paid any mind to you and your father was no different, if it wasn't for her threats to expose him for infidelity he would not have brought you into his home. You never saw that woman again, as the anchor that kept her stuck to that decrepit man was now in his own possession. For her benefit and your suffering, you stayed with your father.

Neither he nor his family were kind to you, it was clear as day that you were nothing more than an unwanted pest in their lives, one of which they aimed to take some benefit from by making you serve them as a houseworker. You were not allowed to eat at the table with everyone, nor receive beautiful clothes or a luxurious room. Years trailed at a snail’s pace as the man you loathed to call father continued to ignore your presence, on occasion he would allow you to enjoy some of the manor's luxuries, but only if you did an exceptional job on the house chores. The small room under the stairs was truly the only place you could call yours in the manor.

His wife despised your very existence and took it upon herself to make your life miserable, expecting you to excel on the most arduous tasks whilst still being available to tend to the family's every needs. There were many times you went to sleep with an empty stomach as a punishment from the mistress, other times you were left with a bruised face and a bleeding nose. With no one to care for you other than yourself, you learned how to tend to your injuries and illnesses with the help of some old medicine books from the mansion’s library. You took pride in your abilities to keep yourself alive and continued to improve your skills as the abuse became progressively worse.

On top of what you endured by the hands of the minister's wife, your half-sister was hardly any different from her, if anything, Madeline’s favorite activity was torturing you for her own amusement. Your shrieks of pain as she cut your face open with the ritual knife were a source of laughter for her, blood and tears stained the floorboards as the burning pain numbed all your other senses. You stitched your face back together, but no amount of healing could ever clear their remnants off of your face. She made you horrendous. Far too undesirable to look at to be around the manor when visits came by.

Your self-taught medical skills weren't enough this time, the depth of the cut was irregular, parts continued to bleed and stitches came off no matter how hard you wrapped your head with dirty old cloth fragments to keep it together.

Hate swelled inside of you with every string of pain, you were determined to never experience such suffering again. And so, you…

Stayed on the lookout for Madeline (Gain nearby awareness)

You stayed alert for your sister's ill intentions during all times of the day. The mixture of the aching of your injuries and the paranoia were incredibly taxing in your young mind, you became restless, anxious to the point where your heart always thrumped at an accelerated rate.

Nevertheless, it worked like a charm. You were able to evade your sister's grasp and even stop her in her tracks whenever she tried to hurt you or damage your few belongings. You felt proud of yourself even if it led to the mistress handing you more work out of Madeline’s complaints to her

Utilized your resources to the max of their potential (Gain resourceful worker)

To treat your pesky injury you made the absolute best out of the few materials you had in hand, reusing the same old cloth fragments to stop the constant bleeding and mixing a couple crushed herbs into blue vials to increase their capabilities. Keeping notes of your doings for whenever such tactics were needed again.

They worked, but not without undesirable consequences as your methods granted you a nasty infection that kept you bedridden for weeks. If it wasn't for the knowledge you gained on medicinal herbs from those old books you're certain you wouldn't have made it. You felt incredibly proud of yourself despite your rocky recovery.

After the fact you went on to dedicate all your free time into studying medicine. Countless sleepless nights were spent flipping through medical journals in the manor's library and filling notepad after notepad with knowledge you deemed essential. During the day, you dragged your exhausted body through the house chores, repeating whatever you read last night in your mind as you worked. Now whenever you got sick or hurt, not a single desperate tear was shed as you knew exactly what to do, which in turn made Madeline disinterested in tormenting you. It wasn't fun if your pain wasn't visible.

You watched as your half-sister’s physique blossomed into a beautiful woman while the conditions you grew under made yours grow skeletal and lanky, which paired with the nasty scars tainting your face made you loathe your appearance almost as much as you despise your sister and her entire family.

One evening, luck knocked at your door as a burglar broke into the manor and stabbed Madeline in the stomach amidst his escape. Your room under the stairs kept your presence unknown to the attacker, when it was safe, you followed her cries of agony and marveled quietly at the scene.

Your sister was dying, she couldn't even stand when the pain from the wound kept her legs in place. Blood soaked her clothes as her eyes screamed despair while you simply watched from barely a feet away.

For all the suffering she made you go through, her death would have brought you nothing but happiness…

Yet, you didn't allow that to happen. You grabbed a large towel and pressed against her abdomen to stop the bleeding, keeping her conscious as you waited for her parents to return home so she could be brought to a hospital. That woman couldn't fathom why you were doing this for her, but you were more than aware of where your intentions stemmed from.

Madeline would have died if it weren't for your actions, she's only alive because you allowed her to do so. Attaining a level of power over your beloathed sister of which she could never surpass, she owes her life to you for the rest of her pathetic existence and that fact filled you with a joyful sentiment much greater than if you had watched life drain from her eyes.

Your newfound brought you external consequences that had never crossed your mind at the pivotal moment. Madeline began treating you nicer, she started bringing you along her trips around town and lending you her belongings, chatting with you about life, seemingly interested in forging a real sisterly bond with you. With her abrupt change soon came her mother's, the mistress stopped demanding that you work around the house and began giving you money to buy good clothes and whatever your heart desired. 

In a matter of months you were treated no differently than your sister, even if your father would never officially recognize you as his daughter. These people now smiled kindly at your sight but none ever apologized, nor did they ever acknowledge the abuse you suffered in their hands as horrid as it was. You paid no mind to it though. What you seek in their care is the places their power can lead you to, and for that you can pretend to enjoy their presence.

You told your father of your interest in the medical field and he went on to pay for your tuition in Bremen’s most prestigious university. For the following years you were able to put all your time into something you truly loved while being miles away from those people, learning about procedures and tools you would never have access to if it weren't for the power you acquired over your disgraceful family.

During your studies, you couldn't help but think of the different ways your skills could be put to use…

Study anatomy and amputation (Gain hacking saw + ×1 bonesaw) 

Study anesthetic procedures (Gain chemical slumber)

When you graduated you wasted no time in joining the Bremen army. You were no fool to fall for Kaiser's lunatic preachings, but a lunatic with power certainly has its worth. If you were able to catch his attention then perhaps a fraction of this power could be passed onto you. Giddy with delight over the prospect, you packed your belongings while thinking of ways to make your abilities stand out amongst all other doctors and nurses in the army.

The reality of the situation was much harsher than you had anticipated, but you never cowered. Countless men on the brink of death came to you daily while the frail nurses grew sick with all the death and destruction, you took it upon yourself to put order in the situation and keep the men alive no matter how challenging or exhausting the procedures were. Each and every soul clinging to earth out of your doing added more power to your name, you were certain that if you kept this pace sooner or later Kaiser would direct his gaze towards you.

Keeping your sanity in check amidst the horrors of war was no easy task, you could feel your mind deteriorating as the months went by and the conflict worsened. Still, you never allowed anyone to see through the cracks in your persona, remaining as a miraculous savior for the most gruesome injuries despite being increasingly closer to your breaking point.

You were well aware that you would be unable to remain this way for much longer, not without a way to take off the edge…

Do some reading (Gain ×1 All-mer skin bible)

You used the brief moments of respite through the nights to read through the bible your sister gifted you the day you left home for university, it had been laying in the bottom of your bags untouched for several years. In the absence of anything better to do you decided to give it a shot, though it did nothing but remind you how much you despise magic and everything associated with it, especially the ones that dabble in your field.

You had heard about healing magic once or twice through casual conversations with your classmates back in the university, the reminder alone made your blood boil. A ritual circle and a sacrifice of some kind were all it took for any weak minded moron to achieve medical wonders that defied nature, requiring not a fraction of the effort you put into your work, yet capable of doing so much more than you could ever achieve with your own hands…

Your burning hatred pushed you towards working harder than you had ever before, dead set in showing your superior proficiency in comparison to those deranged cultists.

Drink your worries away (Gain ×2 Vodka)

Through the cold nights you navigated towards places where you could numb your senses with alcohol, be it establishments nearby or the army's own settlements where you knew soldiers would always sneak little things that could briefly take their minds away from the horrors.

Surrounded by men, you were thankful for having a good alcohol tolerance, but you had a hunch that they wouldn't try to do anything to you even if you were the type to become tipsy after a few sips. You could see it in their eyes, your efforts gave you an enormous level of respect amids both the soldiers and lieutenant. Your presence was striking and unquestionably imposing, if you ordered, these mindless buffoons would do anything you wished without question…

To have the confirmation that your power did increase significantly stroked your ego and pushed you towards working even harder.

But despite your continuous efforts, Kaiser hardly bat an eye on you. It seemed as if, in his eyes, you were no different than the countless other nurses in the Bremen army. Day by day that man’s ignorance filled your heart with ire as you grew to hate him and everything he stood for, but you were never the kind to give up, especially not after all the turmoil you endured thus far.

It may not have been what you envisioned but this project of yours certainly wasn't for nothing, as you received a command to travel to Prehevil, capital of Bohemia. Tasked with making a report on the town and assessing when would be the best time to coordinate and invasion. Perhaps if you excel in this task Kaiser will finally set his eyes on you…

With an unexpected trip on the horizon, how did you prepare?

Stock up on medical goods (Gain ×2 blue vial and cloth fragments)

Stock up on self-defense items (Gain Lugr Pistol and ×10 9mm Bullets)

Stock up on food (Gain ×2 dried meat and moldy bread)

Staring at the walls of the stuffy apartment you booked in order to lay low, you couldn't help but wonder if Kaiser himself hand-picked you for this task. Perhaps you are closer to your goal than you had anticipated.

Possibilities swarmed your mind until your consciousness slowly faded as you drifted off to sleep…

Character skills

[wolven91]

A New Mattress

It was odd to have money. George was used to fighting for every penny then figuring out how to stretch that penny as far as it would go.

There was an old joke from George's home that two of his countrymen were fighting over a penny one day and the pair of them invented copper wire as a result. The shrewd business sense and unwillingness to pay over the odds or for something unneeded flooded through the veins of everyone that came from his area.

Granted, nowadays he didn't know how many of his countrymen yet lived. He suspected it was more than himself, he wasn't the only one rescued from his hometown, but he'd been shuffled and lost track of where they were.

Still, now that George was shockingly well paid for a job that wasn't particularly taxing or highly skilled, his bank account was looking healthier than it ever was before.

"Tell me again, why I have to get a new mattress? Mine *is* new. It's literally brand new, they 'printed' it for me when I bought my furniture." The human male asked.

"Because it's not about having a basic mattress, an Atlas one is important."

"Why?"

"Health reasons."

George blinked up at the tall, muscular adonis that was staring down at him, despite him being well over six feet tall.

The taurian woman who he was speaking with was originally one of the first of the aliens to talk to him like a normal person. Brellin was a hulk of a woman, with a set of horns atop her head that could gore someone quite viciously if she wanted to hurt them. Granted, Brellin was more of a lover than a fighter. They'd been talking about moving in together for the last four months, but she was adamant that she would never stay the night unless they got a specific mattress.

One that wasn't exactly the cheapest option. 

"So, your back hurts orrr...?" George probed. If it was that she had a bad back, he wouldn't mind getting the mattress, he had the money, he just abhorred wasting money. She had the body of a body builder, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she had hurt her back by over doing it in the gym.

"Let's say 'yeah' and drop it? I told you from the beginning. I need one of those if I'm staying over." One of her hands came over and caught his chin between a finger and thumb as she stepped forward and lifted his head gently, but without letting him have control.

"I don't mind just coming over for fun, but that's my rule. Get the mattress and we can have fun all night..." She promised, seemingly getting into the role of the seducer. It fine change now that the taurian knew the human was putty in her hands.

That evening, a new Atlas mattress was delivered and placed onto the oversized bed frame of George's home. He dutifully fit the sheets, having a mild fight with them, but ultimately winning.

As he waited for Brellin, he clambered up onto the bed and lay on it.

It didn't feel any different, besides the grooves cut into the mattress itself. It was made from an odd material and the grooves deliberately cut into the material gave the appearance of a diced mango still attached to the rind.

It didn't matter to him for long though, as his front door rang as Brellin arrived.

Several hours later, Brellin was storing up a storm and George could barely feel his legs but couldn't help the contented grin on his face. The taurians were apparently a race of incredible stamina and the fact that sex for them was a rare event, they were beyond the term 'eager'.

It took some mental gymnastics to get over the size difference. An eight-foot-tall body builder that wanted to use her tongue on every inch of him was certainly a change of pace, but George could make that sacrifice to keep her happy.

Still, her warm, finely furred body was incredible, and he wished to never have to stop her pressing it against him.

Unfortunately, he got his wish.

Unbeknownst to him, Brellin, was a hugger.

Completely asleep, satisfied as she was, the giant minotaur rolled over, the mattress barely shaking despite her huge size, and her arms reached out to find her lover. George woke immediately from his dozing when the power clawed hands grabbed his shoulder and bodily dragged him into her body as if he were no more than a pillow.

A heavy body fell atop him, and the air was forced from his lungs, it coming out in a whoosh of air.

Then she was still again, perfectly asleep and dead to the world.

George, however, was pressed firmly in the centre of her chest, her full body weight pressing down on him, crushing him. He couldn't get air, couldn't lift her, couldn't breathe!!

The only movement he could even do, was turn his head, thanks to the deforming nature of the mattress he was being pressed into.

Air!

Sweet, cool air weaved its way between the grooves of the mattress beneath him and the entrapped man sucked it in greedily.

After a few, the man reevaluated his situation.

He was currently trapped beneath his lover. She was beyond strong, far too heavy to move, and it looked as though she was going to be staying still for the foreseeable future. The mattress beneath him had deformed enough that he wasn't being crushed and allowed oxygen to reach him despite what should have been a crushing weight.

Thank god Brellin told him to get this thing before they had actually fallen asleep together...

After a few minutes, the human came to the conclusion that this wasn't the *worst* situation in the world. His view, limited as it was, was incredible. His world for the time being was limited to just Brellin and he could feel her almost covering every square inch of him.

He was 'stuck' here until at least morning, so the young man settled in, enjoyed what he could and rapidly fell asleep listening to the massive heartbeat and steady lungs of his lover.