#incentivize partners

[learning--tech]

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[melodrangea]

The way you write for Black star is wonderful. There isn't enough black star fics out there ad you definitely do them justice. I'll probably request more black star stuff from you but I don't want to be a bother. That being said if you're feeling up for it maybe black star with a reader that kisses him to shut him up. Maybe usually on the cheek but they kiss him on the lips during a mission. <3

Black Star’s S/O Kissing Him to Shut Him Up

-girlie you will be kissing this man A LOT if it’s to shut him up

-he never stop talking, most of the time you find it endearing

-until he’s screaming about how you’re the hottest s/o ever and is starting to go into detail…

-when Maka isn’t around you just got used to kissing Black Star to shut him up

-you noticed it was very effective early on into your relationship

“IT’S ME THE ALMIGHTY BLACK STAR AND ONE DAY IM GONNA-“

“💋”

“I’m gonna- gonna, I’m gonna shut up now”

“Love you babe <3”

-speaking of which if you kiss Black Star and then tell him you love him? his brain just goes to total mush

-if you ever want him to calm down or cuddle just kiss him and tell him you love him, he’s putty in your hands

(you also incentivize him to study with kisses)

-what really flusters him though is kissing him on, before or after missions

-he will not, I repeat WILL NOT leave for missions without a good luck kiss

-in the privacy of your own home that it

-kiss him infront of anyone that isn’t Tsubaki…

-he’s stuttering, blushing and yelling about how a manly man deserves such a sweet partner

(he’s overcompensating lets be honest)

-overall this is a very successful method and Black Star absolutely loves it so it’s a win/win

———————————————————————————-

but that’s all folks! I hope you enjoyed novakitten <3

-Melodrangea <3

[ceilidho]

For that Price prompt with the reader who was served divorce papers: Wouldnt it hurt so good if the main reason the ex-husband divorced her was because he got his affair partner pregnant? That he gave that other woman the baby he had denied her for so many years.

ooohhh that would hurt so good. Wouldn’t commit to a baby with you but will with the person he’s having an affair with.

It’d be even better fodder for Price if he happened to find out (and he would, of course - probably has ears out everywhere to make sure he’s apprised of the ongoing situation with your ex husband as you go through the divorce proceedings) because that would just incentivize him to coax you into letting him knock you up. You wanted one so bad and there’s no point in waiting around for your ex to come crawling back to you, no reason to put your life on pause while trying to pick up the pieces. Price has been in your life for ages, maybe just on the periphery but certainly long enough for you to trust him with something as important as giving you a baby.

[the-modern-typewriter]

hhhhhhhh your work is just absolutely amazing and I cannot get enough of it… so much that I miiiight have just rebooted the last like two years of your blog… so uh sorry about ur notifs

And some of it had me thinking about how I tend to see like worldbuilding and/or scenarios that revolve around like sex as a necessity- such as like sexpollen or idk fuckordie scenarios - and I always wonder about how another asexual person would react to those, esp if they were more sex repulsed. There just doesn’t seem like space for us to exist in those worlds lol. And maybe it would be clinical or just like wet and awkward. Or they just can’t do it, regardless of the consequences. Your piece with the ace protag who described kissing as just like wet really resonated with me ig. Sorry about the word dump here oop. So if you want, I’d love to see your take on the situation.

I actually think there's a lot of space for asexual or aromantic experiences in these scenarios! Perhaps not the stereotypical take, but the consent/power/attraction dynamics inherent to these scenarios can form an interesting comment for parts of the ace experience.

To be honest, I've always viewed these scenarios on the horror spectrum and I would probably write them as such. Though I also don't think they have to be.

I might write something fully at some point, but:

Fuck or die/sex pollen is simply an extreme version of the already existing societal pressure to have sex/engage 'normally' with the culture we live in. It would be very easy to use that to make these scenarios an ace horror story.

When you add aceness to the mixture, or any sexuality that conflicts with the specific pairing in mind, is that irrelevant to the larger forces at work in the story (e.g. the plant, or the people forcing the fuck/die scenario or whatever) or is the point? E.g. is there a version of the story where someone ace is dosed with sex-pollen because it's considered an in-world cure for asexuality given it manufactures sexual attraction? How does that change attitudes to asexuality within that universe?

Is there a version where someone ace and their partner mutually and consentually try out sex-pollen so the ace person can see what sexual attraction is like? What does that say?

Are ace people immune to sex pollen for whatever reason? What in-world consequences does that have? Do you end up with ace people incentivized to take on jobs in areas where this would be a danger to other explorers? What commentary does that create within the world of these universes?

How does it change the character dynamics? If one person is so utterly against doing anything, even if it ensures both of their survival, what does that do to the other person? Because it's technically a necessity in these stories, but there are still actually two choices and for obvious reasons perhaps these stories rarely lean into the 'or die' part of the scenario. What does the other person decide in this situation?

Then there's the version where it is pure necessity. Not a big deal. No worse than any other chore. There's still consent, but honestly not all consent when you're ace is enthusiastic. In which case, the ace person who may already be geared more towards considering sex as a means to something else might actually be far less traumatized by this scenario than someone non-ace who might view sex with higher stakes/as more sacred/whatever.

Does an asexual alien view fuck or die/sex pollen scenarios with the same morality as an asexual human does? Quite possibly not! E.g. does one not consider it bad in anyway because that's just what humans do and they're not even aware of the consent/power issues going on. What does the dialogue between those two characters look like?

I don't know. I just think there's a lot people could do with the premise + asexuality! Ace people don't live in a world where sex and prevalent attitudes towards sex/sexuality have no bearing, and asexuality is in itself a broad and nuanced spectrum of attitudes.

[5eraphim]

I have a request for a short little one✨ But only if you have the time and want to👍

So darling is like this smart, classy, intelligent woman spy meets and gets obsessed with and makes plans to manipulate her. But she ofcourse catches on and the next day she's gone, so spy has to hunt her down. When he does find her he has a completly new apperance due to his discuises and reader is genuinly interested in him. So one night they drink or something and darling gets drugs sliped in her drink so spy gets to fuck her un-discuised and she gets to have high, amazing sex with the person she dispises the most without even realizing it. Darling doesen't really know she's practicly been raped or find out it this man was spy all along! Yay!

Men will truly display some of the lowest depravity imaginable and then grab a shovel. (<- support class behavior)

Title: Unspoken Alliances

Character: Spy 🐍 (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, x reader, dubcon/deception, toxic relationship, drugging/forced intoxication (MDMA, ecstasy and alcohol), sensory deprivation, restraints, AFAB reader, mind games, revenge sex, marking/biting, teasing

Word Count: 7.2k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"Love goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2 Scene 3, Shakespeare

"Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eye are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye." Plato's Republic Book VII

"So beautiful. What a tragedy you can't see it for yourself." His voice was low and breathy, almost purring. Close enough to feel his breath against your cheek as he stretched out beside you, but from your position, blindfolded and restrained by ropes laying on your back, just out of reach from the man in bed. 

Ever since you shared a cocktail with the mercenary you believed to be Medic earlier that evening, you felt something special spark between you both. The moment that last sip of alcohol passed your lips, something awakened, aroused, and unrestrained by former inhibitions; in a matter of a few hours, the two of you wound up in the same bed. A touching act of intimacy overshadowed by two factors unknown to you. Firstly, it wasn't just alcohol you consumed, and second, the one who gave you that drink wasn't Medic.

Blindfolded, your hands were bound over your head with a soft, stiff black rope, the same rope which wound around both your ankles, pinning them down flat and securing them to the bottom bed legs. Keeping them fully extended and spread, you didn't need the ropes to comply, but he insisted. Annoyingly, you were still clothed, incredibly turned on, and unable to do anything to solve that problem yourself, forced to wait with agonizing anticipation for your partner to make the next move.

But that was your own problem, as the man was in no rush now that the hard part of the evening was over. After a rough start, Spy lured you back to his place to spend the evening with him, of your own free will- with just a bit of incentivizing from him. Exactly how he wanted you.

Spy tried to play fair at first, planning to court you civilly. Far be it from him to fall fast for a stranger, but it had been too long since he shared his bed with a woman, making Spy act a bit impulsively, almost desperately. However, even with sex on his mind, Spy didn't want to come off too imposing too soon. Better to appear mysterious, magnanimous, and charming to attract you closer rather than risk scaring you away by making his real intentions known. 

He thought he was playing all his cards right. He'd been in this situation before more times than he bothered to remember. Spy invited you to an innocent cup of coffee with him during your lunch break to discuss work, his treat, of course. But despite Spy's best efforts to play things safe, after waiting fifteen minutes past the agreed time at the cafe, he understood with grim bitterness that you stood him up. 

It hurt to be blown off like that, but Spy refused to allow this to be the end of it. He returned to work later and discovered you left hours before. He heard you complained about some kind of illness, but Spy knew you were likely just trying to avoid him or any confrontation. Fortunately, Spy was tipped off that you were planning on heading to another coffee house on the other end of town to finish your work, the kind open late into the night and was accustomed to customers occupying space for hours while chain-drinking caffeinated beverages.

It was naive to assume you could just run off to some cafe for a few hours while hiding from him. 

It was all too easy for Spy to find you under the disguise of another, offer you a spiked drink, and watch you fall into his arms. Spy spared no precaution. Even with the MDMA pumping through your system, scrambling your sensory information and reasoning, he was too close now to risk you waking up. You were so needy and cute when you were drugged out of your mind. It made bringing you home and back to bed with him so easy. Letting him walk you upstairs to his bedroom while hanging off his arm, giggling, wearing the intoxication on your sleeve. If he wanted, Spy bet he could push you up against the wall and take you in the hallway, and you'd let him; you'd love him for it. But he had better things in mind for tonight.

During the drive home, Spy shed his disguise, carefully ensuring he had the cover of the darkness on his side before doing so, but when he checked on you using his peripheral vision, you were too out of it to notice a thing. Quiet jazz hummed through the static-softened radio, the scrape of windshield wipers against soft rain, and the quiet ambient sounds of traffic, all softening and melting together in your mind, making you feel like you were in a cozy dream.

If you were beautiful when Spy first met you, where you were focused, headstrong, and in "work mode," seeing you all tuckered out and woozy sprawled out in his passenger seat made you all the more desirable. So innocent and at peace, at this point in your drug-induced haze, you were beginning to detach from reality, your mind unraveling as a pleasurable brain fog began to roll in. But it was only a matter of time before the alcohol and MDMA really hit your system and, subsequently, your libido.

In a haze, you were brought from the front door to the one in his bedroom. To his surprise, you were somehow aware you were in his bedroom, and using a wall to support yourself, managed to peel away from Spy enough to wobble your way over to the bed, not bothering to turn on a bedroom light to find the bed. He felt a throb, watching the smile on your face as you sat on the edge before going boneless as your limp shoulders and spine made contact with the luxurious sheets. Conflicted, Spy wondered if you were so desperate to get into bed because of drowsiness or lust, but judging by the kisses shared before the ride over, Spy refused to believe you wanted this any less than he did.

Using his own body to support yours, and his shoulder to rest your head on, Spy lead you inside. It was a miracle he didn't accidentally uncloak himself before getting you home. You were so trusting to accept his drink and even allow him to goad you into drinking it so fast. Ever the sadist, Spy felt quite a stir watching you begin to nod off. Rubbing in the cruelty a little harder by skimming over the top secret documents you were working on before he showed up, the ones you were in charge of protecting, knowing he could use this as blackmail later. 

As you slid into a comfortable spot in the center of the bed, making sure to slip off your shoes before entering, lying comfortably on your back, taking a moment to appreciate having somewhere so comfortable to stretch out. A sound halfway between a yawn and a sigh passed your lips as you lethargically made yourself comfortable. The bottom hem of your top just barely pulled upward as you stretched out, exposing the skin beneath to the comfortably chill bedroom air. Without thinking, you were about to pull your shirt off from over your head when Spy spoke from a few paces to your side. He stalked closer to the bed, his hands finding yours, thin fingers firmly wrapped around your hands, keeping them still. If you were clear-headed, you would've instantly detected how small the hands holding your own were, far smaller than Medic's ought to have been.

But logic and suspicion didn't matter now. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your entire body felt like an overextended tendon, full of anticipation just seconds away from snapping. 

The excitement made you giddy. And childishly, you tried to fidget your hands out from his grasp while he kept you pinned in place without budging. 

"C'mon- it's too hot in here, I wanna take everything off." The voice you heard hardly sounded like your own, so slurred and pouty.

In a far more measured voice, Spy responded, "Whining will get you nowhere. You're in my house now. You follow my rules here."

He sounded so cold and detached that you couldn't help but mope, trying to focus your gaze up at the smear of non-descript shadow where his face ought to be.

Spy felt a twinge of regret for being so harsh, "I promised I'd bring you here for a good time, didn't I? Be patient, and I will make it worth your time."

From your spot in bed, you stared up at Spy with wide, unfocused eyes and nodded once. Crouching down much closer to the bed, Spy's face was close enough now that you could feel his breath as it fanned against your own face. "Allow me to be the one to undress you tonight."

It wasn't a request. It was a definitive statement. Your eyes drift shut, as the mere thought of him undressing you made you throb. You wanted it so damn bad, but the best you could do to communicate such a want was a timid little nod and a vague noise of understanding. 

"Tonight, we're doing this my way. Now lay nice and still for me." Without Warning, you felt his hand make contact with the side of your face, holding something soft and sleek in his hands.

Spy, holding a long, thin cloth with both hands, made an effort to secure the fabric over your eyes, but for just a moment, the trance was broken as you pulled away a bit confused and slurring, "Blindfold?" You tried to focus on the mass of shadows where his face was, trying to formulate a complete sentence was too hard, but you hoped he understood what you meant and would explain himself. 

Rather than an explanation, Spy remained absolutely still but responded in a voice far less soft than before, practically growling, "As I said before, you're in my bed now. Now lay back and obey. I will not warn you again."

Without another word, you clenched your jaw shut and held your head as still as possible while he worked swiftly. Spy pulled away to sit upright in bed, "Give me your wrist." he ordered.

You knew better than to question him again and compiled without a word. Feeling a sick thrill for being ordered around like this. If you were sober, you might find such unquestioning obedience shameful, but if logic was already forgotten, shame followed soon after. You couldn't be bothered. It felt too good to allow someone else to take control after so much stress at work. There was no need to think; your body knew how to respond to his touch, obey commands, and submit.

It wasn't long until Spy managed to restrain both wrists together at the headboard and ankles to the bottom corners of the bed before you felt the bed dip beside you as he returned to his seat beside you. 

Blindfolded and spread, you were a vision he'd never forget, even while fully clothed. And he couldn't help but smile as he crawled into place on all fours about you, hearing your breath deepen and how you couldn't stop fidgeting beneath him, feeling too hot under the layers of fabric that separated your body from his.

The feeling of his body so close to where you needed him the most, you tried to buck your hips upward where you thought he would be, only to come up too short below to get any friction, unaware of the pathetic little sounds you made tring to get any kind of stimulation from the man in bed.

Spy whispered, his voice dripping with faux sympathy, "Poor thing, you're looking so flustered. Is something wrong?"

You nodded and tried to speak but couldn't get any actual words out to urge him on. Spy snickered to himself as he rebalanced his weight onto one arm while he used his other to skim his hand over your shirt, just above your belly, stopping over your belt buckle as you stiffened up, expecting him to undo it for you, but he kept his hand irritatingly still, making you shutter almost panting, under the strain of forcing the muscles in your core to keep from grinding against his hand.

"I'll undo the belt for you, but only if you ask properly." The smug bastard.

Not a full second later you murmured out a needy "C'mon, please! Please just do it already!" To which Spy responded by pulling his hand further away, much to your frustration.

"You can do better than that. You're a smart woman. Use your words." He sounded almost bored, but you could feel him smirking down at you without needing to see his face. If there was one thing you could count on from men of the support classes, it was ceaseless sadism. You should've known he was going to draw this out.

"Please, please undo my belt, I'm too hot- F-feels like I'm dying down here!" It was hard to speak due to the vague numbness of the face and how your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth. You knew the words were garbled; you wouldn't be surprised if you were drooling and your voice hardly coherent over the sound of your own labored breathing, but worse of all, he still didn't seem convinced.

"Hm. Not bad. But you're rather amusing when you're begging for me. Too amusing for your own good. Perhaps I should keep you here a little longer."

You were ready to sob from the frustration of it all. "C'monn, it's not fair, I wanna touch you too! I wanna feel your body with mine- I wanna make you feel good too!" 

Apparently, you said exactly what he wanted to hear as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering, "You already are."

Shifting back to sit on his knees, Spy could now use both hands to take off your belt before pulling the zipper down. You sigh with relief at the cool air against the exposed and overheated skin. 

For a moment, you were able to take a deep breath to enjoy this before saying, "Please, take the rest off- you're killing me down here!"

Spy wasn't done yet. Rising from the mattress, he walked to the side of the bed, cupping your cheek, making you nuzzle against the stiff leather glove; you'd never felt so starved for the contact of another. Using his free hand to draw his knife, kissing the side of your face with the flat of the blade. The cold steel against your cheek made you shiver, "You want your clothes off so bad; you don't mind if I use this little thing, do you?. You aren't afraid, are you?"

If he had any lingering reservations, you would break out of your ecstasy-fueled trance; they were entirely gone. Not even with his signature butterfly knife pressed directly against your face did you realize who you were dealing with. 

The slight sting of the knife felt like heaven, and you sighed, knowing relief was so close you could taste it. "Cut them off, I don't need them anymore- just you. You're everything I need." Aside from the spike in libido, your emotions were significantly heightened, and you could feel your heart swell as the words left your mouth, and you felt in that moment, you truly loved the man beside you- whoever the hell he was anyway.

Spy too felt distracted for just a moment at the sincerity in your voice. He expected you'd gone entirely cum-brained by now and didn't expect you to say something surprisingly touching. Starting at the bottom of your pants, he pinched the fabric taught with one hand and used the other to start cutting with the knife with surgeon-like precision, then making likewise work to your shirt, leaving you almost entirely bare. Thankfully, he knew what he was doing because you refused to make this easy for him, constantly wriggling in place, distracting him by sighing as the clothes were practically peeled away.  

Feeling a few layers of clothing peeled away felt like a massive weight off your chest. It wasn't long before you were left in nothing but undergarments, which were promptly cut away like the rest of your clothes. 

You hardly realized the fabric was gone or that Spy was back between your legs until you felt an ungloved hand tracing up your inner thigh lightly, taking his sweet time before his hand eventually found your sex. Spy applied almost no pressure to his fingers, but the contact alone made you go giddy, unable to stop squirming as Spy's fingers began to move slowly and without much pressure.

Feeling the slick coating his fingertips as his eyes drifted shut, he grinned with satisfaction, feeling how fast you were coming undone. Allow his fingers to move on their own, and his thumb placed firmly against the skin over your clit. You tried to buck upwards and angle your hips to feel his thumb where you needed it, but he knew exactly what he was doing and didn't budge until you settled down. You knew without having to say anything or even look at him to understand the message he was trying to send you, be good, and he'll give you what you want, but not until he's ready. In other words, "Sit, stay, and beg."

Using his other hand, still gloved, he pushed your thighs open a bit wider, massaging the soft, sensitive flesh of your upper thigh. With his help keeping your thighs spread and pressed down against the mattress, you found it much easier to remain stable, keeping your motion limited to your back arching up from the bed, your knees buckling with such tension, you swore you could feel the nervous tremors making your legs shake and head pull back and forth in rhythm with your heavy, labored breathing. Spy was pleased to see how well you managed to hold steady, content enough to use two fingers to stroke up against your slit, just hard enough for his fingertips to slip in before slipping back out as he traced upwards. Gaging your reaction, he dropped his thumb to connect with your clit as he slipped a finger inside, watching you jolt a little in surprise. 

Spy didn't need to move too long to find where he was looking for, his single finger curling up, feeling every inch of warm, slick softness he could while you struggled to stay still. Spy could feel your struggle, and with a tone of slight mockery, Spy hummed, "It's alright if you want to grind against me since you've been so good at being docile. I'll give you permission."

It was perfect timing, too; as he slid a second finger in, you felt yourself tense up, your own body overjoyed at the stimulation, before you began to roll your hips in rhythm with his hand as his fingers curled inside, trying to find that spot he found earlier. Before long, you were trying to choke back a moan- slightly nervous Spy would decide to punish you if you got too loud while he pumped his fingers inside. You tried your hardest to keep up with his pace, but as he moved faster and harder inside, you were too tense to move much on your own and let him play with your body as he wanted. All of the tension and heat building at your core felt like it was getting too much to handle, you could feel the oncoming climax, and you were ready for it.

Spy planned on making you wait longer for your first orgasm of the night, but now that he was here sitting in the moment, he felt almost as excited as you were to let it happen. And with one more roll of his thumb, timed perfectly with the fingers inside, it happened.

Despite the heavy restraints, you felt like you were flying. When you felt yourself coming against Spy's hand, your mind was lost in a drug and pleasure-induced euphoria that made you whimper and groan as you rode out the high as long as you could. You could hear Spy saying something but couldn't really understand. You weren't entirely back to your senses, but when he swiped his thumb against your forehead to wipe some of the sweat away before planting a loving kiss, you beamed, knowing whatever he was saying, it must've been good! 

After such an intense experience, you clenched and unclenched your hands into fists, curling your toes, trying to gently work the feeling back into them. The past few hours were a blur, the past few days were painful, but now nothing mattered to you but this moment. As you stewed a bit longer in a soothing afterglow, comfortably recalling the events of the evening before, which brought you here.

You should've finished your work before heading out for the night. But when your intuition told you to avoid men, you found it best not to question it. Spy wasn't the type to offer anyone kindness without wanting something in return, and you had a bad feeling about exactly what he wanted. You hardly knew Spy but weren't surprised to learn he was the type to think a few charismatic advances entitled him to easy access to you whenever he pleased. And as soon as you got the chance, you packed up your work for the day and left base. The distance from base gave you the comfort to believe you'd escaped Spy for the evening, but for someone like Spy, who made a living of hiding and stalking, you could only do so much to remain undetected, and if he wanted to find you, there wasn't much you could do to protect yourself. It was hard to keep from watching the other patrons of the coffeehouse closely, and you couldn't help looking over your shoulder, expecting to see someone else watching you. But no one was there waiting, and hardly anyone noticed your staring. You were beginning to think you wouldn't feel safe again until you were back in your own bed.

It was mid-afternoon when you arrived at the small, decently secluded cafe lounge to get work done. Still, you were so distracted thinking about Spy, and the general noise and bustle of a public location kept you from much productivity. By now, the sun already set, the work day technically ended hours ago, and you had little to show for it, and your frustration only made it harder to focus. 

Your eyes wandered from your screen to the empty mug beside you, and you considered if another drink would inspire some more progress or at least justify occupying your space in the cafe for so long. Before you could decide your next move, a hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality. 

"Good evening!" You stiffened visibly upright in your seat at the sound of someone close behind speaking, gently squeezing your shoulder to get your attention. Your head whipped over your shoulder to see Medic, chipper as ever, standing less than a breath away behind you, still in his work attire, though thankfully clean of any bloodstains or crusted bits of entrails or bone that might've clung to him during combat.

"Hey, Medic, I didn't see you there!"

He grinned, "Did I frighten you?"

Relaxing at the sight of a friendly face, you mirrored his grin, "Not at all, old man." 

Without waiting for an invitation, Medic turned to the largely blank Word doc on your screen and the pile of documents beside the laptop, "Still at work?"

You weren't supposed to let any of the mercenaries get a peek at confidential documents, but if you were honest, there was almost no information for him to steal. Shutting the laptop, you gathered the papers, organizing them back into their folder while he watched. 

"I was on my way out, actually. Though a change of scenery would make me more productive, I think I better call it a night." You realized it seemed rude to pack up as soon as he showed up, but you were far from home, and if you wanted to catch the bus back to town, you needed to head out. 

"Leaving so soon?" Medic questioned.

You picked up your dirty mug, keeping your eyes on it as you drummed your fingers against the ceramic, "Sorry, I wanted to make it home before dark. I really should head before it gets too late."

He nodded, "You came pretty far out of your way to get a little work done. Is something troubling you?"

Your first instinct was to play it off as nothing, to lie and give some lame excuse about always wanting to visit this longue, but why bother? Odds were, if you couldn't focus here, rushing home wouldn't do your productivity any favors. Checking the time, you confirmed it wasn't all that late and decided to go ahead and tell him the truth.

Sitting back in your seat, you set the mug back onto the table, staring out the window at the streetlights piercing the winter night fog. "It was another mercenary on your team. He was acting weird, and I didn't want to run into him again today, so I came here."

Not a full second later, Medic replied, "It was Scout, wasn't it."

You smiled, "Surprisingly, no." 

He looked at you expectantly. Despite the nearly empty coffee house, you quickly scanned to see if anyone was listening in on this conversation, which obviously none were, before replying in a quieter voice, "It was Spy. I can't explain it, but he was being so nice to me. I don't trust that, not from him anyway." 

Medic nodded, "You think he wanted something from you?"

"I think I know exactly what he wanted." You grumbled.

He put a hand on your knee, trying to express sympathy. "You're smart to get away so fast."

"I want to think so, but I just know he's going to be all bitter the next time I see him! And I can't even relax now because I know he could be anywhere!"

Medic settled back in his chair a little, folding his arms across his chest with an odd, amused look on his face. "You must really hate him, don't you? You can tell me, I won't say anything to him, I promise."

You sighed through your nose, unsure how to reply, "That's just it. I'm really not so sure if I do or not."

Medic looked at you skeptically, not anticipating that response, "Pardon?"

You laced your hands together in your lap, fidgeting slightly in your seat as you kept your gaze focused out the window beside you, "Well, to be fair, it's never fun to care about someone more than they care about you. Yeah, Spy can be a real creep, but it's not easy to feel unloved like that, who wouldn't feel sorry for someone in that situation. Or, like, you need to love someone enough for the both of you, I guess? I'm sorry, I'm not sure this is making much sense, is it?"

An odd look crossed Medic's face, almost one of disbelief. "Do you really feel sorry for him?"

Shrugging but maintaining eye contact, you nodded, continuing, "I mean, it's a lot of pressure to try and love someone enough to make the other person reciprocate the affection. I understand how it makes someone feel so trapped. I know it's hard, but I believe it's for the best to keep my distance. For both our sakes." As you rambled, you shifted a little in your seat. "I mean, even if it is just sex or whatever, no one likes feeling turned down or unwanted like that, you know? Maybe I don't like him personally, but I really can't help but feel for him here, you know what I mean?"

Clearing your throat and sitting up straighter in your chair, you felt a bit awkward after your little tangent, "Anyhow, all that to say, I feel bad about skipping out on him like that. I guess I'll owe him one next time I see him."

Medic's easygoing smile returned, nodding to you in understanding, "True, but you'd better be careful next time you meet him. Wait and see where all that sympathy gets you next time, whether you meet his love or hate."

"I didn't think about that. God, this sucks." You had no idea if you felt any better after getting this off your chest, but you were just about certain any chance of finishing your work tonight was out of the question. No way you could focus on all that now.

Just as you were about to get ready to depart for the evening, make some lame excuse about needing to get home urgently or something when you heard Medic's voice again, "You look tense. How about something to drink?"

You couldn't help but chuckle a little, "Is that advisable? Mixing stress and alcohol?"

Medic shrugged, not appearing to see any issue, "All in moderation."

A drink did sound like just the thing, but you had a bad feeling if you didn't leave now, you'd regret it by morning. "I'm not so sure. I have to catch the bus soon."

He brushed off your words as soon as they left your mouth, "Let me drive. I insist."

Hell, if he was so intent on something to take the edge off, you weren't about to stop him, "If you really want to…"

Needing no further incentive, he was off while you busied yourself to ensure your confidential documents were tucked away and back in your work bag. Medic returned shortly after with some kind of cocktail in a highball glass, slightly rose-colored in one hand, and a cup of black tea in the other. He handed you the one that looked like a cocktail. You accepted, raising your glass a little thanks, "To good company."

Medic tapped his cup against your glass before taking a small sip of his drink, watching you do the same. The drink was much sweeter than you were expecting; it wasn't precisely a luxury-tier location, but the flavor of your cocktail tasted particularly artificial and syrupy. Still, a free drink was a free drink, and you made sure to give thanks before trying another sip. It tasted much better on the second try, now that the sweetness didn't take you so off guard.

You closed your eyes a little, trying to decipher the taste. "What kind of flavor is in this?"

He stared at you over the rim of his teacup, "Try and guess."

Forcing another sip down your throat, you answered, "Mango?"

Medic shook his head, his eyes never once leaving you as you enjoyed the cocktail, "Not quite. Try a little more."

The more you drank, the faster it went down. It was intense; you could already tell that much, but it didn't taste like strong liquor. It was like some kind of miracle potion! "Is it grenadine?"

Medic wasn't even drinking anymore. His teacup was abandoned on the saucer while his full attention was on you. "Not that either. Take a big sip and see if that helps."

You tried to take as big of a sip as you could manage but ran out of drink before you could do so. Still, you were curious to know what was in the drink and how the flavor seemed to change and warp the longer it stayed on your tongue. "Guava?"

Medic clapped a hand on your back, pulling you into a tight hug, making your head spin slightly from the sudden movement, "You got it! How do you feel now?"

"Drink was amazing! And I, uh, I do feel a little better, thanks!"

Keeping one arm wrapped around you, he took the glass from you with his other hand, "Almost done!" He poured the last concoction you didn't even realize was left into your mouth while you swallowed obediently, feeling warm and giddy with Medic's arm wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you upright."

"There you are, good job!" His praise sounded eerily like what a doctor would give a 5-year-old after enduring their first shot, and weirdly, it didn't embarrass you. You were too warm and full of levity from the alcohol to care about feeling patronized.

Helping you back down to your seat, "Wait right here, I'll return the glass for you."

While he was gone, you stared blankly ahead at your screen, watching the line blink on a predominantly white Word document until Medic returned, leaning down with one hand on the back of your chair to shut the laptop. "Didn't I shut that already?" You thought before he spoke, "Ready to go?"

You knew you weren't done, but for some reason, you couldn't exactly remember what you started in the first place and didn't complain as Medic helped gather your notes and put away your device. While it was impossible to stay focused, you were still largely coherent, feeling somewhat affected by the alcohol, though not in a way familiar to you. Heavy eyelids made the world around you dark and blurry. The spinning in your head made you bob forward in your seat, unable to find your posture. The taste of sweet artificial fruit clung like a thick syrup to your tongue and in the corners of your mouth no matter how many times you swallowed. 

A fuzzy, warm feeling deep in the pit of your gut made you shift in your seat as you found it more and more difficult to mask this sudden drowsiness. Fortunately, Medic was more than happy to help you pack up the work bag you thought you already tucked away and hold the door open for you, leading you by hand to his car through the dark, hopefully not unsafe roads. 

Medic led the way effortlessly. For a split second, you were too timid to lean on him for support; you were a grown woman and had no right acting so sloppily after a single drink. But whether or not you wanted his help, by God, did you need it. And he could sense it, too. Leading you with one arm wrapped around your waist to help keep you upright while leading you to his car before helping you inside.

You sat back, your eyes drifting shut, feeling Medic leaning over you to help fasten the seat belt, and with his shoulder so close, your head tipped forward to rest against it. If Medic wanted you to stop acting so clingy, he wasn't about to say so, allowing you to keep your head resting against his shoulder as he patted the top of your head. "There you are, nice and safe." 

Just as he was about to pull away, you leaned a little harder against him, shaking your head, trying to keep him close despite your absence of communication skills. "Not home… Scared to go back-" 

Thankfully, he was close enough to understand the mumble that was your voice. Using one hand to ruffle your head playfully, "You don't have to be alone; come home with me." 

He didn't need to assure you, nor was he scared he might have to; by now, your mind was entirely overtaken by fuzzy neediness. Any concerns about trusting another person to get you home while you were already so out of it were gone. All you knew was you wanted Medic to stay, to keep you feeling safe and comfortable. As long as he was there with you, none of the potential dangers of the world outside mattered. 

Childishly, you clung to his coat with clumsy, weak fingers, keeping him close as you buried your face in his chest, "Need you- Need to be safe." It was too hard to bother with complete sentences. Not only was your mind spinning, but your tongue felt too big for your mouth, and though you could hear and understand Medic well enough, communication on your end felt impossible.

For a while, he didn't pull away; instead, he used both arms to support you in a secure hug as you remained nestled into his chest. "I've got you." 

Eventually, you managed to pull away enough to look up at him, blinking, unable to entirely focus or see him clearly with dilated eyes. "Let's go home."

But before he could pull away further, you planted a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against his lips. Instantly, you felt him returning the kiss, and he cupped your cheek with one hand to help keep your head table and deepen the kiss, giving you butterflies. His tongue slid against yours so smoothly it helped soothe your agitation and confusion over how you managed to become so sloppy over a single drink. Medic's mouth against your own made you feel like nothing but he mattered, a feeling which never once went away the drive over; even as your eyes drifted shut, that comfortable smile never went away as you replayed the kiss over and over in your head.

Never before had a ride home at night felt so intense and relaxing. Fluorescent lights passed in dull flashes, and the windshield wipers clicked to clear the rain with a soothing rhythm. No doubt if you tried to take the bus home, you'd catch more than a little unwarned attention with your loopy behavior. But none of that mattered because you weren't in a crowded bus, and you weren't going home alone; you were with Medic. Even if you couldn't see him in the dark car, the presence of another nearby soothed your worries, and made your heart throb.

Thinking about the car ride over was enough to remind you- and bring you back to the present moment, especially when the blindfold was pulled from your eyes. It didn't make much difference; the lighting was so low, and you doubted you could see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea if he could see your face either, but you smiled up at him regardless, the least you could do to thank him for all he'd done for you tonight.

But you didn't need to see an entire face when you felt your lips against yours, and you didn't need to see who the lips belonged to kiss back. One kiss on the lips became one on the neck, and you could feel hands all over your body, getting greedier, wanting to feel all of you against him. You didn't even realize he was already naked until you felt his head probing against your clit.

The sensation of hot skin grazing between your legs, preparing to align with your core, made you flinch, unable to suppress your own whining. Feeling so needy and overwhelmed was agony. Fortunately, Spy was completely sober and ready to give you precisely what you needed. As if you even deserved it after leaving him high and dry earlier- but for you alone, Spy was willing to show some mercy. 

His own raging hard-on, throbbing as his head connected with your sex made Spy sigh, watching you with half-lid eyes as he prepared himself to thrust forward. You were feeling far less coordinated, haphazardly trying to roll your hips against him, all while he remained still as a statue above, waiting for you to tire yourself out enough to let him take control. 

It's incredible how Spy didn't need to see your face or speak with you to communicate; he knew exactly what you needed. When you finally settled down enough to let him move again, Spy lowered his head to the crook of your neck, nipping at the thin skin as he fully entered your body. 

The ropes creaked lightly as your body strained to accommodate his anatomy while inundated by so many other sensations.

You were just coherent enough to say, "Feels… Feels so fucking good."

After those words left your mouth, you were uncommunicative for the rest of the night. Present, aware, and even responsive to Spy, but unable to speak. One round of sex stretched into two, or maybe more? One of your last memories of the night was the feeling of something running down your thigh and a needy kiss against your neck, which morphed into a harsh bite- but even that wasn't enough to fully awaken you. It wasn't long until your body couldn't take anymore and passed out, still fully restrained in the bed of another.

By the time Spy fully unwound the restraints from around your wrists and ankles, you were too sleepy to realize Spy was directly in front of you. Spy could feel himself swelling with pride, staring down at your helpless body curled up comfortably in his own bed, naked and spent. The effects of the MDMA and alcohol were beginning to subside; you were past your climax, and now it was time to rest. 

It was dangerous to mix drugs and alcohol. Initially, Spy told himself he was alright with doing this because, if you accidentally had a bad trip or unforeseen adverse reaction, you brought it on yourself for rejecting him. Watching you suffer was an outcome he prepared for, but seeing you unravel and completely give in to pleasure was far more rewarding.

Spy watched your breathing become heavy and slow, curling into the fetal position on your side, to drift off into a deep rest. He was pretty drained from all the excitement as well, but forced himself from the bed, switching on a lamplight as he made his way down the hall to fix himself some black tea.

Perhaps he'd regret staying awake all night in the morning, but for now he was more than happy to ride out the sweet triumph of conquest a little longer. The situation wasn't new to him. Spy was blessed with great fortune with the opposite sex, and even those who initially tried to brush him off, it was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. Usually, not even the satisfaction of victory lasted long after the lay, but as Spy sipped his tea, watching you naked and deep asleep, he knew it'd be a shame to move on so soon. Whether it was affection or sadism that made him want to keep you to himself, Spy wasn't sure, but he knew it had been ages since he'd felt such a fondness.

It was so cute how you thought you could run away fast enough for him not to suspect you would try to brush him off earlier. Trying so hard to plan a way out from behind his back, entirely ignorant of the way his eyes followed you, reading you from a distance. You had no idea who you were dealing with, and the idea of keeping you here, showing you the extent of his depravity and an entirely new meaning of the word held Spy with wrapt interest. And he realized what a shame it would be to end all the fun tonight because you weren't awake to feel it yourself.

[n-agiz]

A DISTANT LOVERㅤ boyfriend! nagi seishiro x gn! reader — angst + fluff [ 2.0k+ wc ] cws none ! MDNI

ㅤnagi seishiro was a distant lover, or so he thought.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover.

not because of all the reasons people were always so quick to judge him for, though.

nagi loved you — and contrary to popular belief, his love for you was way stronger than his passion for videogames or soccer or anything else he deemed worthy of his time. you were his first love, one of the few people who saw him for who he truly was and accepted him for it. he knew you didn’t fully understand him, and he couldn’t judge you because he himself didn’t fully get why he was the way he was at times, but the fact that you didn’t leave him for all the things he did but couldn’t explain and instead incentivized him to push forward to try to learn the source of all of it made his heart flutter, that compassion something not many people had shown him so far. he loved you more than he could ever put into words, more than he could understand, more than life itself even — but he was still nagi, the weird kid who got a cactus only because a plant he had to water every so often was enough company for him, and the lonely kid who had spent most of his school years all alone being treated as a weirdo — reo’s arrival in his life the only thing that stopped him from spending all of them that way. he had grown, years had passed since then and if that period could be considered his life’s rock bottom, he was now undeniably at the peak of it, having an established career in the sport he took so much enjoyment from and a partner who loved him to the moon and back — but even with all that, even with all the highs he had accomplished and all the lows he had gotten over, he was still the old nagi in many ways, and what he for a while thought were stupid habits he would eventually get over as he grew and matured, were now things that impacted his life more than ever, and those thoughts hurt him, because he wished it didn’t have to be like that, wished he could be different.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover for many reasons, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t control any of them.

he had a hard time opening up to you about his feelings; nagi loved you, he knew that, and to some degree he was sure you did too, but he was also aware that you didn’t know just how deep his feelings actually ran, and that was entirely his fault. he remembered to tell you ‘i love you’ each time he departed from you in the morning or before drifting to sleep at night, but that wasn’t enough to show just how smitten he was with you because although he always remembered to repeat those three, powerful words, he lacked in what should come after. he was never able to explain why, was never able to look at you and tell you that you made him feel like the luckiest man alive and that he would give everything he had worked so hard for up and even burn the entire world down to ashes if that meant not losing you. he loved you more than he loved himself, loved you more than the sun loved the moon, loved you more than the flowers love the rain — loved you more than anything else in the word, more than words could even begin to describe. his feelings were indescribable because words had yet to be invented for them to be able to be correctly and fully expressed, but he should still be able to try to narrate them to you, and the fact that he couldn’t hurt him. they were overwhelming — in the best way possible, obviously — and nagi could never even chose the words to begin to at least explain that to you, tell you the he loved you but that his love was so great that he wasn’t able to even measure it himself, and because of that, he felt like he lacked, felt like you would never know how he truly felt and would just stick around because you felt bad for him.

unknowing to him though, you understood your boyfriend better than he assumed you were capable of. you didn’t know how deep his love for you ran within him, that part was true, but you knew he treasured and loved you more than anything in his life, and that was more than enough for you, the struggle to express feelings one you understood all too well too, even if nagi didn’t notice it.

beyond that, though, nagi seishiro was also a distant lover because he could never find enough time to be with you; or at least he thought so. for a good chunk of the year, nagi had a packed schedule, his job one that forced him to travel more than he would like and spend more time away from you than he could handle. he missed you all too much, the weeks he had to spend away from you always feeling endless and like a punishment, the pace in which they passed torturous due to how slow it was, and the day he would finally fly back home to you always seeming unreachable. he hated having to be away even if for just a day, hated leaving you alone, hated feeling far away from you, hated being physically distant from you. he hated every part of it, and because of it, at moments where he felt hopeless, he hated his job, wished he could leave it and start doing something else that would allow him to be close to you every day — the only reason he hadn’t done so yet being your insistence on him continuing to pursue it because it would be a waste of all his hard work if he just gave up like that. still, that wasn’t enough to satiate his longing, to make him miss you any less, to make him stop despising his career path. the facetime calls, the texts, even the times you would sometimes travel to meet him — none of that was enough to him because he still felt like he was failing you, making you feel alone, and it was all his fault.

you didn’t see things that way, however, and if you knew nagi did, you would remember to tell him that you didn’t view him like some monster for having a life apart from you and your relationship more often. you missed him, missed him more than you could describe and about that you would never lie, but you also found happiness in seeing your boyfriend go after his dreams, found happiness in seeing him run so freely throughout the big, green field and found happiness in celebrating all his goals and victories with him. you hated that you had to be apart from him for weeks at a time, but the glee and anticipation you felt whenever you met again after that time separated overshadowed it, made it feel worth it, even. him having goals and aspirations only made you love him more, not hate him in any way.

and to finalize it all, nagi seishiro was a distant lover because he wasn’t as affectionate as he should; he wasn’t a touchy person, he enjoyed his personal space and didn’t crave physical touch that often. he still kissed your forehead whenever he came home from practice at night, still cuddled you every time you drifted off to sleep next to each other, and still held your hand when you were out and about together — but somehow, to nagi, that never felt like enough. he should do more, he thought, should touch you more, should kiss you more, should hold you more, should do everything more, but he just couldn’t, and he hated himself for it. other people made it seem so effortless, physical touch something expected from a relationship, something that came naturally along with it, but he couldn’t seem to give you enough of it, always feeling like he lacked in that department like he lacked in so many others. he wondered how others did it, wondered why you didn’t complain about it, wondered why you were settling for less than you could get, and all those thoughts killed him because they made him feel worthless, another reason for him to feel like he wasn’t enough, wasn’t good enough for you. he tried his best, tried to reach out for you more frequently and tried to initiate those displays of affection as often as he could — but sometimes he was unable to do so, sometimes he just wanted to be alone in his own bubble with you sitting a few inches away from him on your own world too, and that made him feel guilty, because what sort of boyfriend thinks of that as good alone time with their partner?

nagi does, and you were alright with it, because any second you could spend with him was time well spent. you enjoyed your nightly cuddle sessions, enjoyed holding his hand when you were out together, and enjoyed each kiss he pressed against your skin when he came home at night more than anything else. you always knew he wasn’t a touchy person, knew he enjoyed keeping his distance from the moment you met him, and that never stopped you from loving him or made you love him any less — if anything, it only made your heart beat faster anytime he leaned towards you because you knew he wasn’t doing it subconsciously, that he was doing it purposefully because he wanted to show you that he loved you, his thought out effort into showing his affection more meaningful than if he did it without thinking twice, you thought.

nagi seishiro was a distant lover for many reasons, and he thought about them so often that he could say them out loud from the top of his head as if they were part of a script he had spent years studying and memorizing — but that was exactly the problem, they were all inside his head, all things he had thought about and assumed you disliked him for so, when with a broken voice and heavy tears cascading down his face he opened up to you about all those demons, about all those thoughts that kept him up at night, about all his weaknesses, you hugged him close, hugged him hard and stronger than you ever held, allowing your boyfriend to open up to you while sniffling and sobbing against your neck as you kissed the top of his head, giving him space to talk at his own pace, letting him get everything off his chest that had been burdening him. you listened and tried to understand, secretly happy that he trusted you enough to confess such things, and by the end of it, when his crying had calmed down and he wasn’t holding you as tightly, already waiting for you to break up with him, you smiled faintly, and you hugged him tighter, and you kissed him one last time before you moved to cup his cheeks instead, making him face you so you could look straight into his eyes as you told him just how much you loved him, and just how much none of those things mattered to you, how you didn’t see him in any way that resembled what he had just described. you didn’t invalidate his feelings like nagi was scared you would, on the contrary, you actually made him feel seen, understood, and above all, loved for who he was in a manner that he had never felt before. you didn’t hate him for all the traits of his persona he thought of as flaws, instead, you loved him for them, and as stupid as that could be, nagi had never thought of that as being a possibility.

nagi seishiro was anything but a distant lover, you two concluded at the end — he was caring, committed, loving in his own way and more than willing to put effort into your relationship, and at the end of the day, that was what actually mattered.

N-AGIZ '22ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[autisticlancemcclain]

“…wonder what he’s thinking about. Who he’s threatening, rather. Hey, Lance.”

Lance startles a little, turning to face his thoughtful-looking best friends. “Hm?”

“What’s up with him?”

“With who?”

Hunk inclines his head to their very own black paladin, who is standing tall with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, face twisted up in a scowl and glaring heavily at the people in front of him. All their new allies give him a wide berth, some looking at him nervously before skittering away and whispering to their dance partners and friends.

“Why does he look like he wants to kill someone? Or, well, more than usual,” Pidge says bluntly. “Are you two fighting or something?”

Lance hums, rocking back on his heels. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Is it just socialization stress?” Hunk ponders.

Pidge shrugs. “Maybe? Who knows. Maybe someone said something dumb and now he’s imagining all the places he can stick his knife.”

Lance snorts. It’s beyond possible.

“I’ll go find out,” he says, handing his plate of fancy shmancy gala goodies to Pidge, who immediately starts eating them even though hey, those are Lance’s, she has her own.

“You do that, Loverboy.”

Rolling his eyes and aiming a flick to her ear (that she dodges), Lance does, strolling up to his boyfriend and tapping him on the shoulder when he fails to react to Lance’s presence. He tenses for a moment, but calms when he realises who touched him. The scowl instantly melts off his face, furrowed brow shifting into something soft and sweet, grin crooked and showing the barest peek of crooked incisors.

“Lance,” he says, and there’s so much fondness in his voice that Lance can’t help reaching over to wrap his arm around Keith’s waist and rest his chin on his chest, tilting his face up to meet bright indigo eyes.

“Hi, baby.”

Keith brushes the hair out of Lance’s face, tucking the barely-long-enough strands beyond his ear and keeping his gloved hand cupped around his cheek. “Hey, yourself.”

Lance tilts his head to the side just enough to press a kiss to Keith’s palm, then looks back up at Keith. He’s well aware that they’re being gross and mushy in public. He doesn’t care. The gagging noises he can vaguely hear from his dumbass best friends behind him only incentivizes him to be mushier, actually.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Keith brightens immediately, small smile widening into a grin and free hand waving about in the air as he speaks.

“Okay, well, everyone on this planet is taller than us, right? And I was thinking about being tall, and how that leads to bigger skeletons, but not really more joints because then everyone would be bendy. But then I was thinking about how your spine is sort of the tallest bone in our bodies but it’s also the part with the most joints, right, and then I was thinking about joints and I started to think about the skeleton song and how inaccurate it was, so I was trying to sing it in my head but accurately and I forgot how many C vertebrae we have exactly —”

Lance has to bite his tongue as hard as he physically can to keep from bursting out laughing. He doesn’t want Keith to think he’s making fun of him, or else he’ll get all pouty and the excited glimmer in his eyes will go away, and that’s the last thing Lance wants.

But.

But.

The idea of Keith glaring at the air so hard that it’s making an entire gathered planet of people nervous, the fact that Keith has his own isolated little corner in the ballroom because his expression is so frightening that everyone else is too scared to be anywhere near him, the fact that Hunk and Pidge have spent the last who-knows-how-long contemplating what could have possibly made Keith so angry that he’s scowling that badly…and the whole time he’s singing a silly little kid’s song to himself and thinking about skeletons?

It’s funny.

“I love you,” Lance says as soon as Keith pauses to take a breath. He can’t quite keep the amusement out of his tone, which makes Keith narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“I love you, too,” he says slowly. Lance can hear the question in his voice, and chuckles quietly to himself, getting up on his tiptoes right press a lingering kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth. Keith relaxes instantly, his free hand coming to match his other and cradling Lance’s face carefully, tilting his head to improve the angle. Lance tries to sink into the kiss like he usually does, but he keeps picturing Keith’s glaring face, internal monologue singing a song about skeletons, and can’t help his giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Keith mumbles, petulant.

Lance pecks his lips one more time before pulling away. He’s still grinning.

“You’re just cute, is all.”

“I am not. I am cool and menacing.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you say.”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Radley Balko at The Watch:

Here’s a sentence I never imagined I’d need to write: It would be a bad idea for the U.S. to go to war with Mexico. And yet here we are. The thing about a candidate as historically dangerous, impulsive, and incompetent as Trump is that he routinely proposes stuff so off the wall that it would tank virtually any other campaign. But because of this, some of his nuttier ideas are overshadowed by everything else he does. In a previous post, I looked at one of these under-the-radar ideas — Trump’s catastrophic promise to deny federal funding to any school that requires kids to be vaccinated. Today, we’ll look at another — the Trump/Republican vow to bomb or invade Mexico. Trump has repeatedly threatened that, if elected again, he will bomb drug cartels and fentanyl manufacturing facilities in Mexico. He has also proposed sending assassination teams or special forces units into the country. He vowed to take these actions with or without the consent of the Mexican government. The Mexican government has been pretty clear about where it stands on this: They would not consent. So let’s be clear about what Trump is proposing: He’s proposing an invasion of Mexico. Which means he’s a proposing a war with Mexico.

Trump’s history with this threat suggests we should take it more seriously than the typical bluster he spouts during one of his campaign rally monoglogues. Rolling Stone reported last year that even then he had already asked his advisors to assemble a “battle plan” to enact shortly after he’s elected. He also reiterated his promise in an interview he and running mate JD Vance did with Fox News last month (Vance is also all for it). The origin of the war with Mexico idea dates back to the end of Trump’s first term, when, in response to rising fentanyl overdoses, he attempted to designate drug cartels as Foreign Terrorist Organizations, despite the fact that they don’t fit any reasonable definition of a terrorist. He apparently thought this would allow him to bomb the cartels as if they were ISIS cells. It turns out that it isn’t that simple. You can’t simply call people “terrorists” and immediately start bombing the countries where said “terrorists” are operating without first consulting with the leaders of those countries. Mexico’s president promptly and resoundingly dismissed the idea. This apparently irked Trump enough to take the position he advocates today: Just bomb them, anyway.

[...] Destructive, counterproductive policy that treats foreign lives as disposable has long been the hallmark of U.S. overseas drug interdiction. We’ve funded the extra-judicial execution of drug offenders in Thailand, Indonesia, and the Philippines. We partnered with South American governments to shoot down suspect drug running planes without regard to the possible loss of innocent life — that is, until the policy claimed the lives of a U.S. missionary and her daughter. In Panama, the CIA (specifically, George H.W. Bush) propped up and facilitated the drug-running operation of brutal dictator Manuel Noriega. When Noriega was no longer useful for fighting communism, the U.S. then indicted him for said drug running, then (specifically, George H.W. Bush) invaded and bombed his country. We killed hundreds of Panamanian citizens in the process.

As for Mexico itself, in the mid-2000s the U.S. incentivized the country’s government to enlist its own military in the drug war. That policy toppled some cartels, but also spawned destabilizing turf wars and violence as rival factions vied to replace them. The winners then and the military have since been fighting for nearly two decades. The death toll is now approaching half a million people. When asked about the carnage, then-Secretary of State Hillary Clinton basically said in 2011 that tens of thousands of dead Mexicans was a price the U.S. was willing to pay to keep harmful drugs away from Americans. (It did not keep illicit drugs away from Americans.) The arguably most destructive U.S. overseas anti-drug program was Plan Colombia, Bill Clinton’s drug eradication program that poisoned farmland, fostered rampant corruption, and pushed that country into a civil war that has killed tens of thousands of people. This too did not keep illicit drugs away from Americans.

[...]

It will backfire

Even drug cartels have a code. They go out of their way to avoid harming U.S. law enforcement, and they don’t target U.S. citizens. When underlings have violated this code, or when U.S. citizens have suffered collateral harm, the cartels have bent over backwards to make amends. The last thing they want is to bring the full force and weight of the U.S. government upon themselves. This of course doesn’t excuse the times drug violence has harmed American citizens. We should naturally seek justice in those cases. But while what Trump is proposing won’t end the illicit drug trade, it will create an existential threat to the current cartels. It will back them into a corner. Cartels avoid U.S. casualties because they want to remain in operation. If they know the United States is sending its military to kill them, there’s no incentive to adhere to the code. They’re likely to lash out — against U.S. law enforcement, U.S. citizens, possibly U.S. politicians.

[...]

Mexico isn’t our enemy

Depending on how you measure it, Mexico is either our first, second, or third biggest trade partner. Any military action taken without consent of the Mexican government would bring most of that trade to a screeching halt. That risks about $855 billion in annual commerce. It would threaten millions of jobs, particularly in California, Texas, Louisiana, and the industrial Midwest. When Trump threatened to completely shut down the border during his first term, economists warned it would result in a shortage the goods from Mexico, including computers, cars and car parts, gas, chemicals, and produce (goodbye avocados!). Mexico is also a big consumer for U.S. agriculture. So corn, soybeans, poultry, pork, and dairy farmers would also take a hit. We’d also see major interruptions in supply chains that flow through Mexico. When the Border Patrol shut down just one official crossing in San Diego for just a few hours in 2019, businesses in that city lost $5.3 million. All of this economic damage would come in addition to the calamitous economic effects of Trump’s other disastrous campaign promises, like across-the-board tariffs and mass deportations.

Radley Balko perfectly describes why going to war with Mexico is a reckless and costly idea.

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Coryphae

CR 6

Neutral Evil Medium Fey

Module: Down the Blighted Path, pg. 52

Among the most elegant and graceful of all Fey, Coryphae (which I will be referring to as "Cories/Cory" from now on) are Fey that seem addicted to the act of dancing, acting as entertainers, messengers, and occasionally warriors for fey nobles. They can't hold still for a single moment, and spend every waking moment of their days perfecting their own acts and movements until they have reached what they consider to be their peak. They rarely stay in service to a single lord for too long, as performing the same dances which earned them the attention of one noble will swiftly become stale, and there's nothing more poisonous to any Fey than stagnation, forcing them to try new moves to earn the favor of a different noble until those dances, too, begin to bore them.

Traditionally noncombatants, Cories spend most of their time as eye-candy, using their spells (namely Dancing Lights and Ghost Sound, both at-will) to augment their performance (as in Perform (Dance) +18), but they have plenty of utility for any Fey noble with one in their employ. Their ability to use Charm Person at will allows them to garner attention from anyone they wish, or pour flattery on someone their boss needs in their pocket. If that doesn't work, Cories have Suggestion at 3/day to make the following aggressive negotiations a little more tolerable.

In terms of aggressive negotiations, there are few fey better at delivering beatdowns which don't look like beatdowns; anyone in a direct fight with a Cory hardly looks like they're having a bad time, least of all the fey itself, which treats combat as another way to train their moves. . Benefiting from their constant motion to confound anyone trying to attack them, any round a Cory moves at least 10ft in triggers their Elegant Maneuvers, bolstering their attack rolls, CMB, and AC by +5, raising each of them (respective) to +12, +15, and 21. Each of those is important to the fey, as all of its techniques require it to get in close, very close.

"Holding hands" close. Cories have a pair of claw attacks they can use to deal 1d4+2 damage, but such brutality is a waste of their talents! They'd much prefer to get someone into their Enchanting Dance, a full-round action which lets them scamper up to 30ft in a given direction and attempt to grapple with one creature it passes by as it moves. If it succeeds, that unfortunate soul is claimed as a dance partner and has no choice but to go along with it until they either break the grapple, or the Cory finds someone more fun to dance with. The Cory can, from that round on out, force its dance partner to move along with it as it gracefully darts across the battlefield, and the victim takes 2d6 points of nonlethal damage from the frantic movements... and 1d3 points of Wisdom damage if they fail a DC 15 Will save, possibly because the fey's presence is wearing them down. The loss of Will is dangerous, as it opens the victim to being charmed, suggested to, or downright Dominated (which the Cory can do 1/day), and the Cory's dance partner cannot AoO the fey as it casts on them, nor can the Cory fail a concentration check to cast while grappling. Anyone hitting them back while grapples not only has to contend with grapple penalties, but the ever-present DR 5/Cold Iron most fey have.

While hanging onto one creature and dancing with them until they're unconscious or insane is a viable tactic, Cories are actually incentivized to move from target to target as they dance, as their Cut in with Care ability causes all attacks made against them to have a 50% chance to hit their dance partner instead, but only on the first round they establish the grapple. Their Enchanting Dance and Cut in with Care not only shuffles the party around in various annoying directions (denying flanking bonuses and Full-Attacks), but causes anyone using a weapon to hesitate swinging lest they hit their ally. Even sociopathic Sorcerers with Fireballs in their hand and no regard for their allies will be annoyed by the fact the fey's Evasion ability isn't affected by their grappled status, so throwing an AoE at them while they have someone in their clutches has a very high chance of only hitting their ally.

Cories aren't huge threats on their own and will quickly fold if they're forced to hold still (Elegant Maneuvers explicitly does not work with 5ft steps), but through either their frantic dancing or their spellwork, they can swiftly make a party into their own worst enemies. They're not meant to be boss fights on their own, but they're extremely annoying encounters if the party has no way to keep them in one place, and as such work as excellent hazards IN a boss fight as their dance pulls people out of position AND traps them in irritating grapples.

You can read more about them here.

[sweetchcolate]

arnold: *perfectly pegs down rishe's behavior (realizes that if he tells her not to do something, it will just incentivize her to do it even more)* also arnold: i don't even know what the fuck you'll do next haha

(At least Rishe isn't the only one dealing with an unreadable partner).

[rideboomcabs]

RideBoom Demonstrates Strong Interest in the EV Revolution with New Initiatives

RideBoom, a leading ride-hailing platform, today announced its unwavering commitment and strong interest in the electric vehicle (EV) revolution. As the world moves towards a greener and more sustainable future, RideBoom aims to play a pivotal role in the adoption of electric vehicles and contribute to the reduction of carbon emissions.

With the growing concern for environmental impact and the need for sustainable transportation solutions, RideBoom recognizes the urgent need to transition to cleaner and greener mobility options. As part of its long-term strategy, RideBoom is actively exploring various avenues to integrate electric vehicles into its fleet, promoting the use of EVs among its driver partners, and offering reliable and eco-friendly transportation services to its customers.

RideBoom's interest in the EV revolution stems from its firm belief in the positive impact that electric vehicles can have on the environment and society as a whole. By transitioning to electric vehicles, RideBoom aims to significantly reduce carbon emissions, improve air quality, and contribute to global efforts in mitigating climate change.

To kickstart its EV initiatives, RideBoom has already begun engaging in partnerships with leading electric vehicle manufacturers and is actively working towards creating a robust infrastructure to support the widespread adoption of electric vehicles. This includes establishing strategic partnerships with charging station networks, investing in charging infrastructure, and incentivizing driver partners to transition to electric vehicles through various programs and benefits.

Additionally, RideBoom plans to launch a dedicated electric vehicle program that will provide attractive incentives and support for its driver partners who choose to operate electric vehicles. RideBoom's CEO (https://www.linkedin.com/in/harry-malhi-87671254/), Harminder Malhi known as Harry Malhi, expressed excitement about the company's interest in the EV revolution, stating, "At RideBoom, we are fully committed to embracing the EV revolution and driving the transition towards sustainable transportation. By integrating electric vehicles into our fleet, we aim to create a positive impact on the environment and contribute to the overall well-being of the communities we serve. We believe that by working together with our driver partners, customers, and industry stakeholders, we can build a brighter and greener future."

As RideBoom (https://www.linkedin.com/company/RideBoom) continues to expand its operations globally, the company remains dedicated to exploring innovative solutions and collaborating with industry leaders to accelerate the adoption of electric vehicles.

About RideBoom:

RideBoom is a leading ride-hailing platform committed to providing reliable, convenient, and sustainable transportation solutions. With a focus on customer satisfaction and environmental responsibility, RideBoom aims to revolutionize the way people move, promoting greener alternatives such as electric vehicles to contribute to a cleaner and healthier planet.

[twisted-lusty]

Sweet Sin

What a great way to come back to this fandom. I had been dying over the newest chapter, so, why not share a little piece of art I made about our favorite dragon?

TW: NSFW content (MDI)

GN reader

Looking at you, it was like he was trying to apologize for all those actions he had taken against not only you, but the whole Night Raven College. Malleus felt like the monster people always said he was… especially after harming you, the one he most cherished and the only one who saw the fragile dragon behind those emerald pairs of cold eyes. 

Kissing his lips was something you missed, feeling his hands holding you close filled you with a kind of feeling only the Draconia could offer you. Looking with adoration to his sad expression, you simply whispered: “it’s ok.” But it didn’t feel like this to your partner.

He could never forgive himself after all the damage he had done… So instead of using his pathetic words, Malleus decided to come closer to your neck, kindly kissing the skin of your body in an attempt to make things better. Your head went back as you felt the trail he was leaving over it with adoration and care… you loved that man. You loved him with all your heart and could never bring yourself to hate the dorm leader of Diasomnia.

Your hands gently rested over his cheek, you smiled at him and his heart started to beat faster. It was the sign that you allowed him to taste more of your body, that you invited him to share this lustful sin once again. Malleus couldn’t avoid accepting such an invitation, not taking much time to run his thin and delicate fingers over your skin. By your part, you simply brought the man closer to you by holding his back, fully accepting his actions.

Soon, both of you were undressed over the bad, sharing kisses and running hands at each other's bodies. The passion corrupting your bodies was intense, however, more tempting than indecent touches was the urge to finally consume the act. Spreading your legs, it was a call to Malleus… It was a request to be corrupted by him, eating alive.

You were amusing… coming closer to you, he placed himself in your entrance, finally starting to love your body the way he should. His movements were kind, but rough at the same time. The perfect balance between a burning passion and the desire that hid deep inside his soul. He adored hearing you moaning, calling his name and holding strongly the thin blankets of your bed. 

The crying for more of this lustful act only incentivized him to please you more, burying his intimacy deep inside you… And you adored every second of it. Still holding the blankets, you locked eyes once again with your beloved one. Malleus slowly embraced your small human body and kissed your lips with love, passion… adoration even. It was enough to make the man finish inside of you, making a mess in your body. Feeling this warm feeling made you shiver and cling into Draconia’s body.

With a last smile, you gently mumble: “I love you.”

And with that, the rest of your night was filled with affection and gently caring. Ah, Malleus really loved his Child of Men.

[your-average-queer-teenage-mess2]

One of my favorite types of stories out there, is the one where the story shows multiple different perspectives and scenarios in which the same SPECIFIC real-world problem is explored from different angles. Bonus points if the problem is categorically something that mainstream media is incentivized to overlook.

Example: so I just watched Beetlejuice 2, and I legit really REALLY loved how the story of "girl/woman feels isolated from society because of problems in her own life that are legit too much for her to handle, gets involved with guy who really fucks her up", which in the real world, happened too many fucking times to count, got explored in this film through three different stories, WHICH ARE ALL REAL.

Jeremy's the edgy asshole you thought was really awesome when you were way too young to recognize red flags when you saw them, who you thought was so charming and cool because he was just so sweet at first, who dragged you in when you just wanted someone to listen and ended up locking you into genuinely dangerous situations because he just didn't fucking care. That's real. That happens. And I'm glad it was shown.

Rory's the exploitative fucker who will find you when you're in a low point, love-bomb you when you're too emotionally drained to do anything but cling onto his support and manipulate the hell out of you in order to turn you into a codependent object for his use. Now, the Rorys of the real world are usually not as often in it for the money as much as they are for the emotional validation that comes from satisfying their savior complex, but there definitely ARE cases in which they financially exploit their partners. That's real. That happens. And I'm glad it was shown.

Beetlejuice is (and this one I actually have quite a familiarity with) that equally broken enabler who feels so much more free than you to walk around fucking other people's shit up according to his whims in ways that genuinely terrify you but you don't dare to say anything about, who keeps clinging to you and saying that you and him "understand each other so well!" And you can tell that his behavior is basically what your behavior could be if the societal trauma forcing you to repress and turn your untreated mental illness onto yourself was gone, so that you genuinely DO feel a sense of comradely with him, even though he's fucking scaring you, won't take no for an answer and treats you as an equal target as anyone else for his own issues which he insists on turning into everybody else's problem. That's real. That fucking happens. And I'm SO FUCKING GLAD IT WAS SHOWN.

Also, another reason I'm glad this specific scenario was shown- women in media are so often portrayed as these perfectly put-together centers of reason and balance, and GOODNESS am I glad to see a movie that for once actually explores what it looks like when they get crushed under external pressure. Because like. That happens a lot. There's a lot of pressure to living as a woman in society. It often crushes women. And people really only want to explore that in specific case studies of discrimination and abuse. But not here, and I love that.

And also, like. Presenting MULTIPLE socially-outcasted women who's personality isn't immediately turned into a prop that is then used to further the development of their male love interest IN THE SAME STORY? LOVE THAT LOVE THAT LOVE THAT.

So anyways, yeah, that's why I consider Beetlejuice 2 to be an incredibly feminist story which does an amazing job as showing female characters as real people while also presenting specific gendered struggles which they face. Love that.

[julietasgf]

This is truly the greatest thing I have ever made. I'm so proud of it!

NAME LORE! Specifically the District 2 naming that I’ve already created, but have expanded upon. Keep in mind, this District 2 name system is exclusive to those in the masonry related trade, not Peacekeepers. It’s called a “Home Name,” a name given to you by the various and small masonry communities of the District. Originally it wasn’t a thing since most of those in the district already had names related to the trade, but with the heavy influence of the Capitol and adopting Capitol sounding names, most having Greco-Roman influences, the people of District 2 continued to sustain the Capitol’s favor. It wasn’t until after the war with the influx of Peacekeepers and District 2 becoming the military center of Panem that masonry families and their children felt the shift in their naming heritage in relation to their trade. Thus the creation and at first underground program of a “Home Name” was born. Children born in District 2 would continue to be incentivized to have Capitol or warrior like names, but those would not be the ones used in home. On official documentation, like on a reaping slip or on the roster in the training academy, they would have their actual names (called a Slip Name referencing the reaping slip). The process of creating a Home Name is long and arduous, taking up to two to three years to finalize a handful of names and ultimately choosing one that both fits the babe and reflects their trade. Names can be repeated, names can be changed, Capitol-like first names can be axed all together once they’re past reaping age or not a Peacekeeper in a 20 year contract, but as long as they still hold onto to their trade and call it, there’s no problem at all. As this tradition is not set in stone, various families have their own rules to when and if their children can change their Home Name, with some being as lax as letting them change it whenever the child pleases, to after reaping age, to not at all. If you marry into a masonry family and have no Home Name of your own, you have weeks with your future in-laws to not only get to know each other, but so they can have an outside perspective on deciding the new Home Name. Your partner who knows you best will present the final handful of names, their meaning and bring any tools or stones that align with that name if there are any, and once that name is decided, you’re sprinkled with marble dust on your forehead from a patch of rubble and are called that until your last day, intermixing your old name if you so wish (I showed this to a friend of mine & she said that the sprinkling dust on the forehead gave her christianity vibe. I can't out-run my religious trauma even if I tried). Children also go through the same process, and the case of the Sophro children (OCs) are no exception. The three of them spent the first two or three years of their lives in District 2 to give them a proper Home Name that truly reflected the District and themselves. They take great pride in their Home Name and use it the second they leave the Capitol. Most of the children of 2 that they grew up with didn’t even realize that they’re Capitol until much later and recognized them on TV, using their Slip Names. And yes, there is an assignment done in school in 2 where those who have Home Names pair up with those who don’t, spend the week at their home in the masonry sector where the families there can get to know them and finalize a name. At the end of the week they are given a Home Name by that partner and can use it when they are in the stone working section of the district. I think Enobaria totally has a Home Name (Caliper?). Brutus is for sure the kind to have to follow a masonry kid around for a week.

Sorry for all these words! If anything is confusing, lmk! I also edited it a tad to be a bit more universal since I had some specific sections that reference my OCs, so I axed that as to not give you more unnecessary lore homework lol

plssss dont say sorry for it buddy!! I think it's amazing that you took time to write all of this amazing piece of lore, and I'm always in awe to know more hcs abt D2!!! 🥺

LOVE THAT YOU DIFFERENTIATE THAT IT'S A TRADITION AMONG THE MASONRY COMMUNITY AND NOT THE PEACEKEEPERS (specially bc post-tbosas, I feel like those are worlds apart and very different cultures, but that's something to talk about later). also, love the idea of a slip name vs a home name!!! not only because that's something that already reflects what some cultures already do in environments that end up requiring their assimilation one wayor another, but because it's really smart, you're genius for that 🤌 also, your friend was right about the christianity vibes lsslsksll I rlly like the idea of the marble dust exactly bc it reminds me of the thought of rebirth through the water, and this is even more interesting bc indeed, in some places (as far as I know), when you go through baptism, you get another name (and not only in christianity, I think some other religions also work with the idea of rebirth and another name, however I can't say in detail bc most of my contact religiously talking rlly is with christianity and a few other religions that were born from syncreticism elements). and the idea of in the school kids who are from non-masonry families getting their home name after spending time with kids who are from masonry families is so dope and sweet!!!

again these hcs are SO dope, seriously. I'm 100% here for naming hcs (specially seeing that since tbosas era, D2 was still going for roman empire names, which got me rlly curious and wondering somethings). your headcanons are amazing, and tysm for sharing them, I can't thank you enough <333

[maddymoreau]

Why Mr. House pays more for the Snow Globes than the Platinum Chip:

I see a lot of jokes online and people confused about why Mr. House pays more for a Snow Globes than the retrieval of the Platinum Chip.

Especially with how important the Chip is and how he's been waiting 204 years for it.

(ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ I'm going to ramble an explanation on Mr. House's character and why he does this.

Starting from the beginning.

One of Mr. House's biggest character quirks is that he's a MASSIVE stickler for contracts.

In the contract Courier Six signed it says they'll be paid: "Bonus on completion: 250 caps." Which doesn't sound like a lot until you remember this delivery is supposed to be VERY discreet.

Courier Six: "If the Chip's so valuable, why use a single courier to transport it?"

Mr. House: "You realize you were just one of many couriers, the rest of them dummies, so to speak?"

Mr. House: "Add to that many thousand of caps worth of mercenary protection to screen your avenue of approach."

I know Courier Six still got shot by Benny but Mr. House tried to ensure their travel would be safe.

Mr. House: "Had I used an armed caravan to transport the Chip, I might as well have been announcing to the world "this is important. Attack this!" I didn't want to attract the attention of groups like the Great Khans or the Brotherhood of Steel. Alas, the real threat was closer to home."

You might be thinking well that explains the initial delivery price but why doesn't Mr. House increase it after Benny takes it?

The answer is Courier Six's contact.

Inside the Lucky 38 Mr. House will say.

Mr. House: "My only concern is the recovery of the Platinum Chip. What happens to Benny, I leave to your discretion. When you bring the Chip to me, I will pay you four times the delivery bonus stipulated in your contract. How's that?

Mr. House: “My offer far exceeds the original terms of your contract, which, I will remind you, already obligate you to deliver the Chip.”

While 1,000 caps is small and nothing to Mr. House. It’s important to consider he’s not wrong.

It’s a 400% increase from your original pay.

Something he feels is generous because you're already contractually obligating to deliver the Chip.

The Contract states: "You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until delivery is complete and payment has been processed, contractually obligated to complete this transaction and materially responsible for any malfeasance or loss."

(҂ ` ﾛ ´)凸 Screw my contract!! I got shot in the head!!! You might be thinking.

The Contract's Penalties mention: “Failure to deliver the proper recipient may result in forfeiture of your advance and bonus, criminal charges, and/or pursuit by mercenary reclamation teams.”

Even if you ignore your contact Mr. House won't.

Mr. House: "No, you haven't. This is the second time you've promised to deliver the Platinum Chip. Even if you don't hold yourself to your promises, I will."

When giving the bonus Mr. House is attempting to incentivize the player.

If Courier Six has a Barter 50 Skill they can counter:

"It's a good start . . . but well below market price."

Mr House: "Very well, five times the bonus. {with finality} Not one cap more."

Even after bartering this amount is still well below the market price (remember this for later).

If the player fails the barter.

Mr. House: "Is that an attempt at. . . {beat} {distaste} humor?" I've always taken business negotiation seriously. I advise you to do the same."

If you try to renegotiate after retrieving the Platinum Chip from Benny he'll say.

Mr. House: "Our terms were clear. Now that you have the Chip in your possession, any attempt to "re-negotiate" payment would be tantamount to blackmail."

If you still refuse but eventually cave he'll respond.

Mr. House: "You're fortunate that I have a certain {beat} tolerance for greed. I expect my business partners to be self-interested but {unlike you} smartly so."

If you take the negotiations seriously like Mr. House he will increase you bonus pay within reason.

He's not going to raise is to a 10,000 caps since that’d be a 4,000% mark up. Even just raising it to match the price of one Snow Globes would be 800%.

(ㆆ_ㆆ) You still might be thinking . . .

WHY CARE ABOUT THE CONTRACT!??!? THE CHIP IS WORTH MORE THEN A 4,000% PAY INCREASE!!!! IT'S IRREPLACEABLE SO WHY DOESN'T HE JUST COUGH UP THE MONEY!!?!??

This line perfectly explains Mr. House’s mindset.

Mr. House: "You have a contract to fulfill, a delivery to make. If you can't hold to a contract, simply for the ethic of holding to a contract, you're worthless to me."

Mr. House is TESTING YOU!!!!!

He's ALWAYS testing you to see if you're the perfect replacement for the job he originally planned for Benny to have.

Mr. House: "To achieve my aims, I require a capable human agent to perform certain... {choosing word} tasks."

If Courier Six can't stick to their word and fulfill a contract they signed in good faith. Even if that contact is less beneficial to them. Even if the bonus pay is well below market price.

Then they're not someone Mr. House wants to work with.

This post goes into more example of him testing you:

https://www.tumblr.com/maddymoreau/741007168343588864/veronicaroyce-it-always-bothered-me-that-mr?source=share

That's why the maximum offer Mr. House is willing to negotiate for the retrieval of the Chip is 1,250 caps.

After all if you succeed and work for him the rewards will be immense.

Mr. House: "I'm not offering you an incentive as crude as money - though there'll be plenty of that. What I'm offering you is a ground-floor opportunity in the most important enterprise on Earth. What I'm offering is a future - for you, and for what remains of the human race."

As for the Snow Globes they're a luxury item Mr. House is offering a base price of 2,000 caps for.

There's no contract, no test and no negotiating the price. Only seven exist within the base of the game. The other four are outside the Mojave in dangerous locations like the Sierra Madre and Big MT.

٩( ^ᗜ^)و ´- Mr. House simply likes them and is willing to pay you a high price for a rare item.

[mayorwatermelon]

Okay so I keep having this probably way too in depth fantasy about “training” for a food challenge because there’s just way too many fun stuffing related scenarios that can come from it. Like, having a partner to encourage me to keep up with my capacity training? Incentivizing me with belly rubs and sex and affection for reaching certain milestones for how much I can manage to cram into my belly? And then there’s the event itself - maybe she does little things to help me with the challenge, like rubbing my belly and undoing my pants under the table to make my aching overworked tummy more comfortable?? Ahhhhhh