#liz answers her mail

[lizleeships]

Your destiel art is very sweet and amazing

Thank you so much friend! <3

[lizleeillustration]

Can I ask what brushes you use ??? Your work is so beautiful <3

Mostly the defaults AND the Jingsketch collections on Procreate, AND the Tsaoshin collection on Photoshop :D Hope that helps :D

(thank you so much!)

[probablyasocialecologist]

To bring about its hypothetical future, OpenAI must build a new digital ecosystem, pushing users toward the ChatGPT app or toward preëxisting products that integrate its technology such as Bing, the search engine run by OpenAI’s major investor, Microsoft. Google, by contrast, already controls the technology that undergirds many of our online experiences, from search and e-mail to Android smartphone-operating systems. At its conference, the company showed how it plans to make A.I. central to all of the above. Some Google searches now yield A.I.-generated “Overview” summaries, which appear in tinted boxes above any links to external Web sites. Liz Reid, Google’s head of search, described the generated results with the ominously tautological tagline “Google will do the Googling for you.” (The company envisions that you will rely on the same search mechanism to trawl your own digital archive, using its Gemini assistant to, say, pull up photos of your child swimming over the years or summarize e-mail threads in your in-box.) Nilay Patel, the editor-in-chief of the tech publication the Verge, has been using the phrase “Google Zero” to describe the point at which Google will stop driving any traffic to external Web sites and answer every query on its own with A.I. The recent presentations made clear that such a point is rapidly approaching. One of Google’s demonstrations showed a user asking the A.I. a question about a YouTube video on pickleball: “What is the two-bounce rule?” The A.I. then extracted the answer from the footage and displayed the answer in writing, thus allowing the user to avoid watching either the video or any advertising that would have provided revenue to its creator. When I Google “how to decorate a bathroom with no windows” (my personal litmus test for A.I. creativity), I am now presented with an Overview that looks a lot like an authoritative blog post, theoretically obviating my need to interact directly with any content authored by a human being. Google Search was once seen as the best path for getting to what’s on the Web. Now, ironically, its goal is to avoid sending us anywhere. The only way to use the search function without seeing A.I.-generated content is to click a small “More” tab and select “Web” search. Then Google will do what it was always supposed to do: crawl the Internet looking for URLs that are relevant to your queries, and then display them to you. The Internet is still out there, it’s just increasingly hard to find. If A.I. is to be our primary guide to the world’s information, if it is to be our 24/7 assistant-librarian-companion as the tech companies propose, then it must constantly be adding new information to its data sets. That information cannot be generated by A.I., because A.I. tools are not capable of even one iota of original thought or analysis, nor can they report live from the field. (An information model that is continuously updated, using human labor, to inform us about what’s going on right now—we might call it a newspaper.) For a decade or more, social media was a great way to motivate billions of human beings to constantly upload new information to the Internet. Users were driven by the possibilities of fame and profit and mundane connection. Many media companies were motivated by the possibility of selling digital ads, often with Google itself as a middle man. In the A.I. era, in which Google can simply digest a segment of your post or video and serve it up to a viewer, perhaps not even acknowledging you as the original author, those incentives for creating and sharing disappear. In other words, Google and OpenAI seem poised to cause the erosion of the very ecosystem their tools depend on.

[pocketstoriesstore]

NSFW +18

You found your old job partner. And that’s how it goes on.

“Well, didn’t expect to see you here…”

You had to visit the old office to take some archives for your boss. You decided to make it silently, cuz you didn’t want to see anyone of your old team, including him, who decided to do the very same and take documents of some old missions for his leader, in the very same time.

Leon listened to you, sitting in his old chair. Eyes reading every step closer you took.

“Two years ago you left, didn’t say a word to anyone, so i’m pretty sure you didn’t expect to see me anywhere for the next decades…”

You felt your face melting.

It was good to feel all the frustration in his voice, especially when you thought he wouldn’t care if you were close or far from him. That’s what you used to feel since the last time you both been together.

It was a fast mission and your team was the administrative part of it, so you only got to see each other in the end of the day, like, conversations and stuff, while congratulating him and the rest of the team for the successful mission. You both locked eyes since the first minute of the meeting, ending things in his bed as you both wished for months.

…

After hearing that, you laughed. Accidentally exhaling surprise in your voice.

“Well, i did my best.” You said.

“At what, exactly?”

“Well, i… You know, you had something going on. You and one of your partners, the long haired girl. Cmon, Leon. Don’t be silly. You know i’m not being a freak.” - You finally protested, feeling bored by the soft investigation on your arguments.

“What? what are you talking about? You left me on read for two years because you were jealous of… what are you saying?”- He now was on his feet. “I’ve always tried to get closer, especially when i knew you was about to move. You’d never let me say everything i wanted to, always cutting me off and vanishing. It was all because of that? Impossible!”

“Look, i really have to grab this to Gil, so i have to go. Was good to s—“ Now he held your hand:“No way. You’re doing that again. Being a freak.” You stood static, starring at him in the eyes, no blink.

“Please, it’s all ok. I just have to go” - “You’re getting red. Phill said you still have a crush on me. He said you’d never forgot me. Is that true?” His hand holding your chin, cautiously.

You felt your face chicks burning.

“This conversation is so weird. You must be joking, right?” You awfully tried to simulate a giggle, but was a waste of time.

“Cmon, you just told me you was jealous about someone i was TEACHING!” He laughed, playfully and proud of himself for taking that off of you without even try. “Liz is a friend, she was new at the corporation and i was his leader. We’re actually friends, but she has her own girlfriend. Ain’t it fun? and you say me that… We know nothing about anything in the universe, don’t you think?”

Your face was literally on the floor…

“Do you know what? I choose the perfect day because i didn’t meant do be through anything like that. What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are you telling me?” He laughed more: “Answering your old doubts before you go ahead thinking more and more bullshit, as you did for the last two years. Now tell me if Phill was telling the truth. d’You like me?” He was seriously looking into your eyes. He was a little uncomfortable too, you could judge, but only because he had to go on since he played about that.

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Ok.”

You stared at each other.

“I’m sorry for making this uncomfortable, I also wasn’t prepared to see…you. Anywhere, but here?… impossible.”

“I missed you so badly, Leon. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, so i avoided any gossip, and choose to keep those thoughts to myself. But i still miss you. I think about us every single day, every time. I’ve been so fucked up about it. But hell i missed you. In my days, our hellos and goodbyes and our e-mails, the meetings in the parking and everything. I miss your skin on mine, Leon. Are you happy now?”

“I miss all of that since the day we kissed for the first time. I miss you a lot. I’m fucking serious, girl.”

He got even closer and held your neck strongly in his embrace. You left every paper cautiously in your table and held him back, tightly. His nose shoved in your messy hair, and his heavy arms pressing your body as if you were about to vanish in any moment.

“Never, ever, do this to me again. Let me know things. Be mine, please. Please.” He said, kissing you hardly.

“Leon-you said in a whisper- Phill was so fucking right.”

And then he said in a groan, while searching for your bare skin underneath the fabric of your skirt, cuz you made the way easier for him to go on: “I know that, love.”

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY & THE WRITERS!

The Wordsmiths of the Lucyverse

Whether Lucy was the writer, or one of the various characters in her universe, the creative output always made us laugh! Novelists, playwrights, screenwriters, journalists, composers, and columnists were all part of the Lucyverse.

"Liz Writes a Song” (1949)

Liz Cooper (Lucille Ball) is convinced that she is a musical talent, but when a music professor (Hans Conried) tells her she'll never be a singer, she decides to take up songwriting instead! 

LIZ: “Carrie Jacobs Cooper writes again!” 

Carrie Jacobs-Bond (1862-1946) was a songwriter who composed some 175 pieces of popular music from the 1890s through the early 1940s. She is perhaps best remembered for writing the parlor song "I Love You Truly", becoming the first woman to sell one million copies of a song.  

“Lucy Writes a Play” (1952)

Lucy writes a play set in Cuba for Ricky to star in, but he refuses the part. She changes her play from Cuba to England and has Fred take Ricky's spot. Once Ricky learns a famous producer will be in the audience, he decides to surprise Lucy and appear in the play, but he has the wrong script. 

Ricky sarcastically calls Lucy “Mrs. Shakespeare.”  Her first play is titled “A Tree Grows in Havana” and the revised version is titled “The Perils of Pamela”. 

“The Publicity Agent” (1952)

Peter Leeds plays the newspaper reporter who asks the Scheherazade, Maharincess of Franistan. 

LEEDS: “Would Her Highness answer a few questions for the press?” LUCY: “Yes.”  LEEDS: “Good. Your highness, is it true that Ricky Ricardo is your favorite vocalist?” LUCY: “Yes.” LEEDS: “Do you like any other American performers?” LUCY: “No.” LEEDS: “Now, let me see if I have this straight... You've never seen Ricky Ricardo in person, you first heard his records two years ago and you fell in love with his voice and decided to come to America to see him. Your father didn't approve, but you came anyway and you can hardly wait to hear him sing. Is that right?” LUCY: “Yes, no, yes, yes, yes, no and yes.” LEEDS: “I see. Now about the political situation in Franistan ---”

“The Operetta” (1952)

The Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League is putting on an operetta and Lucy decides to write the show herself!  Needless to say, Ricky and the Mertzes are in the cast as well. The final script is “The Pleasant Peasant” by Ethel 'Romberg' and Lucy 'Friml' and starring 'John Charles' Ricardo. In reality, the songs were written by series composer Eliot Daniel, who wrote the show's theme song.

“Ricky Has Labor Pains” (1953)

To crash Ricky’s ‘daddy shower’ (aka stag party), Lucy and Ethel disguise themselves as Sam and Fred, reporters for the New York Herald Times Tribune, a mash-up of several real New York dailies.

“Lucy Writes a Novel” (1954)

Hearing that a housewife got $10,000 for writing a book, Lucy decides to become a novelist. Much to the chagrin of Ricky, Fred and Ethel, her subject will be a thinly disguised (and outrageously romanticized) version of her own life titled “Real Gone With The Wind”. 

LUCY: “You'll get no more books from me, so go watch television!”

“Fan Magazine Interview” (1954)

Magazine journalist Eleanor Harris doing a feature story on the Ricardo marriage, at the same time that Ricky's agent concocts a publicity scheme inviting women on the Tropicana mailing list to a phony date. 

Eleanor Harris (played by Joan Banks) was the name of a real magazine writer who wrote about Lucy and Desi as early as 1940. She also authored a book titled The Real Story of Lucille Ball published about the same time this episode was first aired.

“Ethel’s Hometown” (1955)

The last stop before Hollywood is Albuquerque, New Mexico, Ethel’s hometown, where she is given the star treatment instead of Ricky. Billy Hackett (Chick Chandler), editor of the Chronicle, is doing a story on Ethel Mae to herald her return on her way to Hollywood. 

“Bullfight Dance” (1955)

Lucy is asked to write an article for Photoplay Magazine about what it’s like to be married to Ricky. Lucy keeps the contents of the article secret until she’s given a plum role in his latest show. 

“The Hedda Hopper Story” (1955) / “Lucy Takes a Cruise to Havana” (1957) 

Both episodes featured Elda Furry, a film actress who turned gossip columnist and renamed herself Hedda Hopper (1985-1966). She was the go-to source for what was going on in the personal and business relationships of Tinseltown. 

She supported Lucy and Desi throughout their careers and they repaid them with these special appearance, as well as mentioning her name in several other episodes. Hopper was recognizable for her elaborate headgear.

“Homecoming” (1956)

Recently returned from Hollywood, Lucy is interviewed by gossip columnist Nancy Graham (played by Elvia Allman) about life as wife to a famous movie star (aka Ricky). The character is probably a tribute to Sheilah Graham, who was an English-born Hollywood journalist. Along with Louella Parsons and Hedda Hopper, Graham wielded sufficient power to make or break Hollywood careers – prompting her to to say that she was "the last of the unholy trio."

“Milton Berle Hides Out at the Ricardos” (1959)

Milton Berle appears here in the capacity of a published author, promoting his first (and only) novel, Earthquake written with John Roeburt. 

Berle had previously written the joke books Laughingly Yours in 1938 and Out of My Trunk in 1948. He wrote his autobiography in 1974 with help from Haskel Frankel. His last book was a 1987 collection of sketches and reminiscences titled B.S. I Love You. 

“Lucy Becomes a Reporter” (1963)

After just three days as the fill-in society reporter for the Danfield newspaper, Lucy’s job is hanging by a thread. The only thing that will save it is an interview with a press-shy financier visiting town.   

 Mr. Foley, the Tribune’s editor, refers to Lucy as Brenda Starr. Brenda Starr is the lead character in a comic strip about an adventurous female reporter. It debuted in 1940. Like Lucy, she had red hair.  Lucy says that she was called ‘Clare Boothe Lucy’ in high school, a pun on Clare Boothe Luce (1903-87), who was a writer and journalist in her own right, in addition to being married to Henry Luce, a powerful publishing magnate in the magazine industry.  Viv calls Lucy ‘Louella’ a reference to gossip columnist Louella Parsons. Lucy later invokes the name of Parsons’ chief rival, Hedda Hopper, another chronicler of Hollywood during the mid-twentieth century.

Critic’s Choice (1963)

Lucille Ball and Bob Hope play husband and wife theatre critics in the film based on the 1960 Broadway play of the same name written by Ira Levin.

“Lucy and the Soap Opera” (1966)

Curious to find out how “Camden Cove,” her favorite soap opera, will turn out, Lucy disguises herself in a number of outrageous get-ups to gain access to the show’s reclusive writer Peter Shannon (Jan Murray). When her efforts fail, she gets herself cast as an extra for a taping of the soap. 

“Lucy and Eva Gabor” (1968)

The author of a controversial novel (Eva Gabor) is in town and needs a quiet place to work so Harry volunteers Lucy's home. Naturally, it is anything but peaceful and far from quiet.  

Eva Von Graunitz (Gabor) is writing a follow-up novel to her successful “Valley of the Puppets”, a title that parodies Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls (1966). 

“Lucy the Co-Ed” (1970)

Harry's old flame Gloria (Marilyn Maxwell) is in town to help produce a musical for their college alumni. They resurrect a show Harry wrote in 1928 and cast Lucy, Kim, and Craig in supporting roles. It was written by Harry during his senior year there in 1928. Previous episodes have stated that Harry both performed and wrote shows while in college. The title of his musical is “It's Always Do-Wacka-Do at Bullwinkle U”!

“Tipsy Through the Tulips” (1972)

Lucy is in charge of keeping a mystery novelist (Foster Brooks) sober long enough to finish his next book.  The book David Benton Miller dictates to Lucy is titled “The Killer Wore Wodden Shoes,” a murder mystery set in Holland. 

“Lucy and the Professor” (1973)

Lucy thinks Kim is interested in one of her college professors. She mistakenly believes it is Professor Dietrich (Murray Matheson), author of the best-selling book Sex and the College Girl. It is actually her much younger music professor John Kleindorf (John Davidson). 

“Lucy Goes on Her Last Blind Date” (1973)

Lucy dates eccentric Ben (Don Knotts) who is a prize-winning writer of verses for greeting cards!  

[choices-and-voices]

So we’ve now made it to Chapter 3 of The Deadliest Game, and the two main questions raised by The Deadliest Gambit have both been answered: we know the truth about Nick & Farah’s double life, and we know the life-changing secret that Nick was planning to reveal at the party. Those were the two leads that I thought might be pointing us in a ‘Nick Faked His Own Death’ direction, and now that we have alternative explanations for both of them… I’m starting to seriously doubt that he’s still alive after all. Honestly, the scene in the cool room probably should have crushed my hopes a lot sooner, but I am nothing if not an optimist and I wanted so, so badly for our MC to see him again. Now, it feels like experiencing his death for a second time, and I am still bizarrely emotionally invested in it all. If The Unexpected Heiress had given me this much to grieve about Amelia, I probably would have dissolved into tears by Chapter 2 😢

(Also, it’s kinda early for predictions, but – just putting it out there, the two people I’m most suspicious of right now are Pete and Liz. In Pete’s case, it’s because he also works for Whoosh, and therefore he has more to lose from this deal than just Nick’s inheritance + he’s more likely to have heard about the deal from someone in the company, eg. via them answering one of the ten thousand emails that everyone teases him about sending every day. In Liz’s case, it’s because she works directly for Nick, and therefore she’s definitely out of a job if Nick gives away all his funds – she even skirts around the issue in her interrogation, when she says that she’d never hurt Nick because he’s ‘the entire reason [she has] healthcare.’ Plus, we already know that Liz knew about the deal beforehand – Nick gave her relevant documents to mail on in The Deadliest Gambit – and her alibi is that he ‘asked [her] to take care of a work thing’ just before he died, despite him making a huge deal earlier in the night about how Liz & Jun were off the clock. Idk, it just doesn’t stack up to me, and that could just be due to sloppy writing on PB’s part but it could also be deliberate. I’m really, really excited to see where things go next, if only because it means that Nick Gallant gets closer to the vengeance he deserves 😭).

It has occurred to me that I should add a final comment to my last post about Nick Gallant. Firstly, I want to note that I actually really like Dante Valdez – I know he’s the book’s ‘preferred’ LI, and often that puts me off, but in this case he comes off as very sincere and hard-working and I think he’d be a great fit for my MC. I am 100% planning to romance him. Secondly, I have wondered whether this is going to be a Veil of Secrets-esque situation, where Nick is eventually revealed to be a) still alive, b) no longer in a viable relationship with Angelina (PB is already hinting at that much), and c) actually a last-minute love interest. And if that ends up being the case? My MC is gonna have a big, big decision to make.

[thegeminisage]

i’ve really had a whole day. first the third-worst house i’ve ever cleaned then swan song and then realizing dean’s arc in s5/s6 is identical to [redacted]. i’m gonna throw myself into traffic

[lizleeships]

I feel like I don't tell you often enough how much I enjoy your art. I am going to try to make a concerted effort to like/ comment/ reblog it even more because it literally ALWAYS brightens my day. I love how you portray ALL of tfw, not just cas and dean! it's so lovely!

I really appreciate you so much, and needed this so much today. Thank you for taking the time to write <3

[lizleeillustration]

hi! just realized you’re local to me and was wondering if you’ll be doing any cons soon bc i’ve loved your art for a while and would love to get some!

Aww I'm delighted to hear! I'll be doing Laval Comiccon in April! Hope to see you there :D

[alexcalder]

—it's amazing how physically exhausting it can be to do nothing, and for the past three hours he had done just that. a little before half past one in the morning when his target returned to his penthouse from an event, much to the hitman’s dismay; he was not alone. leaned back against the chair, he watched and waited, mentally wishing for the man’s guests to leave —he needn’t any witnesses, after all. the clock read a minute shy of five in the morning when the door was about to close behind the last guest —he was lining up his shot. finger curled around the trigger; anticipating. Claude’s name flashed on the screen, momentarily distracting him. the fleeting second of averting his gaze from the target had been enough to miss the chance. “fuck,” he hissed, quietly —what a fucking amateur mistake. flipping the phone over, he readjusted his position on the rifle.

Alexander waited until he was already on the road before he checked the message Claude had left him. the time read 5.04am. there were no missed calls or messages from Liz. perhaps she went out with her colleagues after work? ( though, she usually did let Claude know ). he tried calling her —certainly, Claude had already tried that— but she didn’t pick up. the clock showed 5.23am when he ditched that car, walked several blocks down after the car had been wiped clean, and got an Uber to his neighborhood. he tried her phone a few more times; still no answer.

6.02am. he made it to Westside. it would be so much easier if he could go talk to the club’s security, but given the club’s affiliation to the Syndicate, he didn’t want to get them involved. the place was closed, parking lot nearly empty —but Liz’s car, the one he had gifted her a few days ago, was still there. fuck. he lit up a smoke, walked up to the security post by the entrance, after parking further down the road. “hey man, I forgot my wallet…” he began, and the other man wasn’t happy —the plan was to send him away with an excuse when his gaze fell on the items on the desk. the purse, he wouldn’t recognize, but the phone —he averted his gaze. “never mind…still drunk,” he laughed, showing him his wallet. there wasn’t enough fucking time. 6.28am; the security guy in the building across the street knocked out cold, undisturbed to look at the footage from 3am and forth. the quality was awful, but she could be seen walking across the parking lot, then there was no sign of her; moments after she had come out, a car drove off. the plate number wasn’t visible, let alone the driver, but at least he had a model, a type of vehicle. why the fuck would someone do that? as soon as all footage of him ever being there, or around, had been erased for good, he left.

three days later and no one had called her father for ransom. damn, he had forgotten all about Claude until the new voice-mail; he hadn’t filled him in. hadn’t said a word to him besides asking about the babies. the babies, too, he had been too focused trying to find the owner of that vehicle…fuck him. “I’ll find her,” he had simply told Claude when he opened the door. but they wouldn’t talk about this, not when the babies were there and seemed distraught in Liz’s absence. time passed slowly —between taking care of the babies, and trying to find out more clues about what had happened to Liz; the twins always asked about her, it took a week to reassure them she was coming back, she was a trip. the only good thing was that all evidence pointed to that vehicle being involved; a couple of more security camera footage he got from neighboring buildings; still none clear enough to have a plate number. when he could leave the twins alone with Claude, he worked on locating that motherfucker. two weeks had passed when he was driving back to Liz’s place to put the babies to sleep, from a meeting with an informant when he spotted the vehicle. a couple of calls later, seemed like his guy was a drug dealer, owned an apartment down Fifth Street; hadn’t been in business for too long —word had it the guy was unhinged. he had nothing to lose, no other lead. so he decided to invite himself to the guy’s apartment, search the place. breaking into one’s home without a trace wouldn’t be a first for him; the guy’s place had nothing. nothing memorable. no hidden spots, apart from a compartment where he had some cash, a couple of guns. no drugs, save for some pot. nothing —so he didn’t run business from here, this was his front. new, but kinda smart, he thought in disdain. what if this wasn’t even the guy? and then, a small photo in the trash, crumbled up caught his eye. a photo of Liz from when she still worked in the strip club; her in the parking lot. he stalked his place for days after that, to no avail; he had someone arrange a meeting for him, as a client. and then, he followed him; bound to finally lead him to where he was keeping her.

they drove out of town, Alex followed from a good distance, continued straight ahead when he took a turn down a dirt road, leading to a seemingly old, abandoned farmhouse. waited for a while before turning back. found an old run-down RV, parked there —the house was a couple of minutes walking distance away. he made his way there. patiently, slowly, stealthily. came around the back, quiet for a moment trying to make out any sound, any sign of her —before testing the back door in case it was unlocked.

⸻ Once more the show for the week, a sentiment of fulfillment for her work, and Elizabeth was heading home, what surprised her was to see a man seemingly waiting for her in the dark in the parking lot. Liz squealed startled to the lowkey familiar face. 'Lux! There you are… It's me. Chon. ' The mysterious male appeared from the darkness revealing himself by the lights of the post, and Liz put a hand on her own thumping heart. ❛ Oh, thank God! I thought it was a stranger. How are ya doing, mate? Did you watch the show? ❜ The Aussie asked as he smirked at her questions. 'I couldn't watch it. I miss you at the club, is there any way that I can make you return? I have the contacts and they can re-hire you. ' Chon was trying out the small talk with her, in which she was falling easily on the bait. Chon was one of the guys obsessed with her, and ever since she left the strip club, he was hunting her down, stalking every movement she did. Sometimes, he gave her flowers when she finished her shift at the club. Occasionally, he gave her drugs, like on her birthday, he was the one to give her heroine. ⏤ ❛ Are you here because I owe you money? I told you I could pay for the drugs. ❜ Liz asked after a while. ' No, Lux. A gift is a gift, and I told you I don't want you to deal with the wrong people. I'm here to see you. And can you do me a favor? I don't understand much about pets. How about you help me to see if what I found is okay? It's in my car. Besides, you're an Aussie, and you people are good with pets. ' Chon said, and she rolled her eyes, she hates when people point out "oh, you're an Aussie, could you handle the snake? spider etc. " That's really annoying.

Liz was finding this conversation kind of weird. But shrugs off the oddities. She would excuse herself and leave if he was somebody she NEVER saw in her life. That was not the case. She went to see what he had on his trunk when he opened it, it was kind of dark before she was able to pick up her phone to turn the lantern on, he used a stone to hit on her head, knocking her out. Chon said 'sorry' to her, as he used tape to tie her up, put a mask on her face in which she couldn't see anything, and fit her inside. ⎯ After a long ride, he arrived at the house, in the middle of nowhere, away from the town. And put her in a basement with bad lighting, chained, in a place with rusty objects, including the chains on her, and bad hygiene.

…

MEANWHILE.

The elder Beaufort, was finding it odd. He double-checked the time on his watch. He decided to call Alex, but left a voice message: ❛ Hi, erhm… Sorry to bother you, but Lux is at your place? It's just she hasn't back from work. Normally, she just text me. Maybe she is mad at me, women! Ok, au revoir.❜ Message by Claude around 5. AM.

6 AM.

The twins woke up. ❛ Mamma! Mamma! ❜ Both rushed to the door, as they heard footsteps in the corridor. Claude went to spy, but there wasn't nobody. The Frenchman then decided to call to a few of her friends that he knew. ❛ Hi, I don't do this often but Lux is here? I need help with my grandchildren. ❜ And call to one, or two or three friends… Nothing. He organized his grandchildren to the daycare and prepared their backpacks, forgetting to put a snack in one of them, and the toys. Lilou went with messy hair, and Beau went to the daycare, with an unwashed face, and messy hair.

3 days later…

No sign of Elizabeth. And then he decided to go to Westside, it wasn't the days she worked there but the last time she left she went for work. 'I'm sorry, I didn't see her'. Her car was found, and he had a bad feeling. A worker from the parking lot saw Claude seeing her daughter's car, and handed him her purse, and the phone with battery died.

On the same day, Claude. ❛ Alexander, I have a bad feeling. I think she's gone. Help me to find my daughter. I don't know what to do. If I didn't know her better, I would say she did the same thing as her mother. I found her car, her phone and her purse, at work. Did you fight with my daughter? You two argue?! I need to know! ❜ Claude said distraught in the voice message.

2 WEEKS.

No sign.

Nearly, 3 WEEKS.

'No one will come to get you. This place is soundproof.' Chon said, looking at Liz. And the blonde just spits on his face. ❛ Let me out! ❜ She yelled, and Chon wiped her spit and slapped at her face, leaving her chained, and switching off the lights, leaving her in the darkness again.

@alexcalder

[whumpsday]

🩸 Kane & Jim Masterlist 2: The Other Stuff 🩸

Main story chronological masterlist / Main story writing order masterlist

🌌 AU Series:

🍷 The Whumpers’ Soirée (on hold) - Part 1 - Kane and Jim find themselves as co-whumpees under a new whumper.

⚖️ Choice of the Hunter (on hold) - An interactive series where you, a hunter, decide how to treat captive Kane.

🪽 Angels & Demons (on hold) - Part 1 - The guys get wings.

📦 BBU AU (complete) - Part 1 / Part 2 / Drabble / Part 3 - BBU.

🪐 Standalone AUs:

Purring AU - AU where Kane can purr. :3

Sunrise Reprise - Kane gets stuck outside at sunrise.

Bellamy Saves Kane - What it says on the tin.

Early Pickup - Jim saves Kane when he still has some fire.

Second Chance - Kane wakes up a decade in the past.

Dark!Jim AU - Jim as a whumper. + Bonus

Bad End - Jim fails his final escape attempt.

Brink of Death - Jim fails his final escape attempt. Again.

Bellamy Saves Kane 2 - BSK again but different this time.

Human Bellamy - Kane reunites with an alternative victim.

Tiny Kane - What if Kane was 5 inches tall?

Human Kane - Kane turns human, faces the sun.

Time Travel - Both boys inexplicably wake up in the past.

Mermay Special - Vampires are an aquatic species.

Slow Cooked - Kane is left in the sun for three years.

💫 AU Drabbles:

Liz punches Kane

Table

Carewhumper Kane

Kane forgets Jim’s name

Alternate ending to #27: Rebellion

No Escape

AU tag - also includes ones that are just concepts

🚀 Crossovers and Collabs: (some contain varying degrees of 18+ content, check within for specific warnings)

🔨 Kane & Jim x Catharsis (Part 1 / Part 2) - Kane escapes the hunters, winding up on Luan's doorstep. (ongoing)

🤝 Celeste & Kane with wolfeyedwitch’s The Heart and the Hunger - Kane gets a new friend in captivity when Celeste’s owner sends his pet vampire for training. (complete)

🎃 SPK with whumpshaped’s Killing, Stalking, Whumping - Kane joins Pumpkin in Seth’s basement, with the two later being saved by Bellamy and getting their happily-ever-afters. (complete)

🌗 K&J x MMSS with not-a-space-alien’s Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset - Varied crossovers including Lex & Ari rescuing Kane, Liz rescuing Valen, and Kane joining Valen in Nick’s lab. (ongoing)

⚡️ Kane & Raiza with whump-queen’s Raiza - Kane was picked up from the hunters by a brand-new whumper instead of a caretaker, to face a whole new flavor of whump than the cold torture he’s used to: intimate pet whump. (on hold)

🎁 Livestock with dragonfireridge - A short story where Bellamy takes in an injured human. (complete)

7️⃣ Kane & Seven with whump-queen’s Seven Series - A BBU crossover where Kane is bought from the hunters by a sadist and befriends her boxie. (on hold)

🔥 Suppressing Fire with whumperstorm's Last Chance - Kane takes a more fiery victim than ever, one whose potential he never could have guessed. (ongoing)

💌 Fanfiction:

Bleed by whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

Bite by whumpwillow

New Friends, Old Dilemmas by lethologick

Letter by whumpwillow

Soup by whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

Torture By Silver by lost-in-labradorite-halls

View by whumpwillow

Popsicles by lost-in-labradorite-halls

Celebration by lost-in-labradorite-halls (HEAVY GORE CW)

First one by not-a-space-alien

Second one by not-a-space-alien

Lynx + Trans Kane AU by whumpshaped

Home Sweet Home? by whumpwritings

The Final Apology by clickerflight

Fan Mail by writereleaserepeat

the 10/10 amazing zizi fanfic by whumpshaped

Falsely Persuaded by oliversrarebooks

💐 Related series:

Cat and Mouse by t0rture-me

Shattered by oddsconvert

Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset by not-a-space-alien

🎨 Visual:

Fanart

Picrews

🎵 Playlists:

Masterpost - Contains playlists for Kane, Jim, Liz, and Bellamy

🔗 Misc:

Answered asks with additional content

Other posts with additional content

[lingthusiasm]

Lingthusiasm Episode 72: What If Linguistics - Absurd hypothetical questions with Randall Munroe of xkcd

What’s the “it’s” in “it’s three pm and hot”? How do you write a cough in the International Phonetic Alphabet? Who is the person most likely to speak similarly to a randomly-selected North American English speaker?

In this episode, your hosts Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne get enthusiastic about absurd hypothetical linguistic questions with special guest Randall Munroe, creator of the webcomic xkcd and author of What If? 2: Additional Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions. We only wish that there was a little more linguistics in the book. So Randall came on to fill the gap with all his most ridiculous linguistics questions! One of our unresolved questions that we can merely speculate about is our predictions for what the future of English might be like. Are you listening to this episode from more than two decades in the future? Please write in from 2042 or later and let us know how accurate we’ve been!

Click here for a link to this episode in your podcast player of choice or read the transcript here.

Announcements:

We’ve teamed up with linguist/artist Lucy Maddox to create a fun, minimalist version of the classic International Phonetic Alphabet chart, which you can see here (plus more info about how we put together the design). It looks really cool, and it’s also a practical reference tool that you can carry around with you in a convenient multi-purpose format: lens cloths!

We’re going to place ONE (1) massive order for aesthetic IPA chart lens cloths on October 6, 2022. If you want one, be a patron at the Lingthusiast tier or higher on October 5th, 2022, timezone: anywhere in the world. If you’re already a patron at that tier, then you’re set! (That’s the tier where you also get bonus episodes and the Discord access, we’ve never run a special offer at this tier before but we think this time it’ll be worth it!).

In this month’s bonus episode we chat with Lucy about redesigning the IPA! We talk about how Lucy got interested in linguistics, how she got into art, how we started working with her, and the many design considerations that went into making a redesigned IPA chart.

Join us on Patreon now to get access to this and 60+ other bonus episodes, access to the Lingthusiasm Discord server where you can chat with other language nerds, as well your exclusive IPA chart lens cloth!

Here are the links mentioned in this episode:

xkcd comics

Randall Munroe on Twitter

Order what if? 2 here

Wikipedia entry for X-IPA

Onomatopoeic etymology of the word ‘clap’

Human Screams Occupy a Privileged Niche in the Communication Soundscape

Urban Dictionary entry for ‘based’

You can listen to this episode via Lingthusiasm.com, Soundcloud, RSS, Apple Podcasts/iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also download an mp3 via the Soundcloud page for offline listening. To receive an email whenever a new episode drops, sign up for the Lingthusiasm mailing list.

You can help keep Lingthusiasm advertising-free by supporting our Patreon. Being a patron gives you access to bonus content, our Discord server, and other perks.

Lingthusiasm is on Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram, Pinterest, and Twitter.

Email us at contact [at] lingthusiasm [dot] com

Gretchen is on Twitter as @GretchenAMcC and blogs at All Things Linguistic.

Lauren is on Twitter as @superlinguo and blogs at Superlinguo.

Lingthusiasm is created by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our senior producer is Claire Gawne, our production editor is Sarah Dopierala, our production assistant is Martha Tsutsui Billins, and our production manager is Liz McCullough. Our music is ‘Ancient City’ by The Triangles.

This episode of Lingthusiasm is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike license (CC 4.0 BY-NC-SA).

[bqstqnbruin]

23

Hello, hello, here I am with a fic for @antoineroussel's winter fic exchange. I had an amazing time writing this for @rosesvioletshardy. I hope you like it 💛💛💛

This was inspired by the song 23 by Kyle Hume

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: swearing, implications of sex (nothing really serious or explicitly mentioned), I'm mean in this at times but that's on brand at this point

________________________________

Save the date: Jeremy and Steven, January 22nd, 2022

Andrea and Eric’s daughter Amelia’s first birthday party, February 13th, 2022

Save the date: Taytum and Alex, March 19th, 2022

Save the date: Michelle and Nathan, March 26th, 2022

Steve and Liz’s engagement party, April 10th, 2022

Rachel’s baby shower, May 21, 2022

Save the date: Emily and Kevin, August 6th, 2022

Save the date: Natalie and Domenic, October 8th, 2022

And those were just the ones that were already sent to you. Not to mention the how many that you knew were coming, that were already in the works of being planned, and the ones that you just didn’t want to go to or already knew you couldn’t attend.

It seemed like every other day, a new ‘Save the date’ card or wedding invitation was showing up in your mailbox, someone else that you knew growing up, in college, now at work, getting married or announcing an engagement, having a child, doing something that warranted a celebration for any major life event that everyone was having.

Everyone but you.

You were just living your life, doing whatever it was that you wanted, not a care in the world. Part of you didn’t care that you seemed to be the only one of your friends who didn’t have a significant other, who wasn’t completing some major life milestone every other month, who really just was going with the flow of things in hopes that everything would eventually work out. The other part of you was anxiously waiting for everything to work out, that something good would happen to you with someone great.

Maybe you’ll find that by the time you’re 23. That seemed like a good age to get going. It was the age your parents met, the age your brother had his first kid, the age where everything good happened to everyone in your family. It had to be the same for you.

________________

“Who are you bringing to Jer’s wedding?” Cellini asked you.

You shrugged, not looking up from your computer. “Fuck if I know.”

“Didn’t you say that you were bringing someone?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t know who that is yet?”

“No.”

“I’m only going to invite you to my wedding if you’re in a relationship.”

You finally look up, the annoyed look on your coworkers face in contrast to the confused one on your own. “Why?”

“Because!” she screams, a few of your other coworkers looking up, shooting dirty looks in your direction, “Do you know how annoying it is to not be able to make the little seating card and have an actual name for the seating chart?”

You stare at her, trying to process what it was that she could possibly be trying to say to you. “No, and neither do you.”

“I helped plan Milani’s wedding,” she tells you, referring to her sister, “and she uninvited anyone who said they were bringing a date and then couldn’t say who their date was.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her, knowing that Jeremy would never do that to you. “Jer isn’t that dramatic.”

“He might not be, but Steven is.”

“And who are you bringing?” you ask her, hoping that she didn’t have an answer.

“Seamus, duh,” she says, you silently kicking yourself for forgetting the boyfriend she talked about constantly. You two sit there for a few moments before Cellini starts up again. “What if I set you up with someone?”

“Oh, god, no,” you groan, sitting back in your chair, your head thrown back slightly as you covered your face with your hands. “Last time you did that, I had food poisoning for a week and couldn’t find my favorite bra until I got it in the mail in an unmarked package three months later.”

Cellini scoffs, sitting back in her own chair. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me with finding you a wedding date.”

“What reason have you given me so far that would make me trust you?”

“I’ll find you three dates and you can pick from there, how about that?”

“You don’t even know three single guys.”

Cellini had apparently taken that as a challenge, finding you not only three single guys, but going beyond that and finding you five, single, and incredibly attractive men who had no business still being single unless there was something seriously wrong with them.

There was Maxwell, the guy who was on his college cross country team and it still showed, especially since running seemed to be the only thing he talked about. His red flag was that he had an obsession with bugs, which wasn’t something you really cared about, follow your passion and everything, but it became a little much when the two of you first met and he left you to chase a bug that he saw on the sidewalk for his collection.

There was Clayton, who was cute, but he really didn’t seem to be there meeting you for any reason other than Cellini told him he had to be. He was probably only doing it because you were sure that Cell had mentioned he had a crush on her at one point, and based on the way he couldn’t stop talking about her, he didn’t seem to be passed that crush just yet.

There was Jackson, the one who told you when you were leaving that first meeting that he liked you and wanted to spend more time with you, but didn’t want anything with you. Not even to go to the wedding with you. He thought Cellini was just doing this as a blind date because he had told her he was bored and alone.

There was Luke, the high school teacher at a Catholic school in the area. He was fine. He ended up just being another nondescript guy that would probably show up in a dream or something without you being able to place where in your life that face came from.

After the fourth guy, you weren’t sure Cellini was actually on to anything.

“What’s his name again?” you asked her, on the phone with her, waiting for her last option for Jeremy’s wedding to arrive at the coffee shop he picked. “Titus? Timmy?”

“Who the fuck is Titus? His name is Tyson. He’s friends with Milani’s husband. Honestly, I should have just introduced you two to each other first.”

You scoff, knowing Cellini was probably giving you a look despite you being unable to see it. “And why would that be?”

“You two are perfect for each other.”

“Y/N?” You hear, pulling your attention away from Cellini’s description of him.

“He’s tall, adorable, just dorky enough that he seems innocent, but not enough so you know he can be a little devious when he needs to be. He’s fit, like’ running your hands on his abs and never wanting to stop’ fit. He’s got that smirk that you love and will make you melt, curls that I know you want to run your hands through and pull while he moans your name,” she told you, you only tuning into the last part, hanging up without a word.

“Tyson? Hi,” you greet him as he takes the seat across from you. Cellini was right about everything she said. She should have introduced you two first.

“So, you need a wedding date?” he asks you.

You didn’t know what it was about him, but you couldn’t help but start to blush, sheepishly nodding in reply. “Mine and Cellini’s friend is getting married and I said I would bring a date, which I don’t have.”

“Yeah, your friend Jeremy!” he says, shifting towards you, his arms resting on the table supporting him. “Cellini showed me their wedding site, he and Steven look like they make a great couple.”

“They are,” you tell him, starting to mirror the smile that was growing on his face. “They met when they were freshmen in college.” You tell him the story that you knew about them, sure that you were leaving out details about them, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He seemed to be hanging on to every word of yours, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

The two of you sat in the coffee shop for hours talking about everything you could think of. From the outside, it looked like you two were friends who had known each other forever.

“Oh, shit,” Tyson says, checking his watch. “I have to get going, I have to pack for a road trip.”

You had no idea why, you were sad that he was leaving, wishing you could spend more time with him and trying to think of anything you could say that could lead to you being with him longer. “Do you need help?” you offer.

He hesitates for a second, immediate regret washing over you. “I should be fine this time,” he tells you, you praying that the hurt that you felt wasn’t showing on your face. “But, how am I doing on the wedding date front?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face.

You give him a small smile, trying your best to flirt with him. “Well, I don’t know if I should say yes to you when I barely know you.”

“Good, because I get back Sunday,” he says, standing up from the table, “and if you’re interested, I want to see you again before the wedding.”

You tell him yes, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, watching him leave the coffee shop unable to let your eyes wander anywhere besides him until he was out of sight. You sit back in your seat, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. You never were like this after meeting a guy unless you were drunk and waking up the next morning regretting at least one decision from the night before and leaving as soon as you could.

But Cellini had known the guy who could take your breath away all this time, waiting until now to introduce the two of you.

________________

Sunday rolled around, Tyson inviting you over to his place to make you dinner and watch a movie with him, Cellini not hesitating to tease you about your ‘Netflix and chill’ night that was about to happen as your first date. Actually, your second date, since Tyson told you he considered your first date that day you met.

You were sitting on his couch, Tyson banishing you from the kitchen while he cleaned up and telling you to find a movie that you could watch. You found 13 Going on 30, not caring if Tyson had seen it or not, settling into the cushions while the opening credits started playing.

“What did you pick?” The title cards comes up on the screen before you can answer, Tyson saying, “Huh, I’ve never seen this one before.”

“How have you never seen one of the best movies ever?” you ask him, Tyson extending his arm across the back of the couch for you to lean up against him, resting your head on his shoulder. The two of you stay like that the entire movie, Tyson adding his commentary every now and then, his fingers dancing up and down your arm, tracing patterns as he pulled you closer to him with every chance he got.

By the last scene, Jenna and Matt are sitting on the couch outside their new home, sharing Razzles, you and Tyson in a similar pose. You look over at Tyson, feeling his eyes on you for the last few moments.

“You aren’t watching,” you whisper, seeing his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“I know,” he says, his face inching closer to yours. “This might sound dumb, but can I kiss you?”

You could feel his breath on you, waiting for you to tell him what you want. “Yes,” you let out, his lips connecting with yours without a second thought. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you up onto his lap, you running your hands through his hair. Your mind went blank, wanting him, needing him to do everything he asked. He seemed to be the same; every time you asked him if you could do something, he eagerly told you yes as you went for it. Your bodies moved together as if they were made for each other, finding the parts of you in him that you didn’t know were missing.

Part of you thought he was the love you were supposed to find when you were 23.

________________

“Ok, so I heard from Tyson that things went well,” Cellini says to you that next Monday at work, her eyebrows wiggling to match the mocking tone that was dripping from her voice.

You were suddenly mortified, praying that she didn’t know everything about that night. “What did you hear?”

“Tyson wants to go to the wedding with you,” she squeals, just about jumping out of her seat in excitement. “See, I told you that you were perfect for each other.”

Cell keeps gushing about you and Tyson as a date, going on and on about how he would look so good with the tie color that matched your dress, dancing with you, everything. “When’s your next date?”

“The wedding?” you say, a hint of confusion in your voice. The other night wasn’t really a date. You hadn’t even technically agreed to take him to the wedding. Cellini still apparently had another man for you to see if he was your potential date. “What about guy number five?”

“Tyson was guy number five.”

“Well, you said you had another one after Tyson.”

“Why do you need to meet James?”

“Actually,” you start, “If he calls himself James, there’s probably something wrong with him.” You let out a sigh, guess you had to settle. Settling for someone who could be perfect for you if you were in a place where you were ready to be with someone. Settling for Tyson.

Cellini keeps going on about you and Tyson again, not seeing to notice or just not caring about the fact that you weren’t paying attention to a word that she was saying. You wanted Tyson to text you, not go through your friend to say that you would go to the wedding together. The wedding was in about two weeks, plenty of time for him to get his tux and match his tie to your dress. He didn’t have to be anything more than your wedding date. There was no need for him to be more than that. You weren’t 23 yet, you didn’t have to worry yet.

“Oh, my god,” Cellini stops her rant, her eyes wide as she looks just over your shoulder.

You turn to see what it was that had her like that, or rather, who. Tyson was at the front desk of your office, talking to the receptionist but clearly looking for someone while he listened to whatever it was they were telling him. He finally lays his eyes on you, a wide smile covering his face that you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of. Something about that stupid grin of his was haunting your memories in the best way possible, from the smile he gave you after he pulled away from kissing you, the one he flashed as he was leaving that next morning, every time he did was replaying like a film reel in your head as he was walking towards you. “Hey, Cellini,” he greets your friend before she scurries off, mouthing something along the lines of ‘have fun’ before disappearing. He turns to you, not seeing what she said. “I was wondering if I could take you out to lunch.”

There was something about the slight tone of nerves that were coming through his voice that sent shivers down your spine. You had only known this boy for a week and there was something about him that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You knew he was only your date for your wedding, but you couldn’t stop yourself from taking him up on his invitation to lunch.

He brings you to a cafe not far from where you worked, his hand in yours the entire walk there as if you two had been together for years. Tyson sits across from you, his hand running through his hair nervously as he looks at you. “I have to admit,” he lets out with a sigh, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other night.”

You give a smile, Tyson matching yours. “I haven’t either,” you tell him, Tyson reaching across the table. You put your hand in his, feeling him give you a gentle squeeze. What was this, where you two dating? Were you supposed to ask him what he thought, if he thought you were? Or was he only in it for the friends with benefits and the wedding? You would be fine with the latter. You weren’t sure you could handle dating at this point.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?” he asks you.

You want to see him. You need to see him.

“Like for another date?” you ask him.

“Yeah. You know, dinner, a walk around the city, back to your place or my place and hopefully repeat the other night if you’re willing?” he suggests, a rosy tint showing up on his cheeks at his suggestion.

He take in a deep breath, trying to figure out what you wanted. You wanted him. But you couldn’t have him. “I like the first part of that,” you start, your voice trailing off as the smile on his face fell.

Tyson felt himself starting to panic. “Did I do something wrong the other night? You can tell me, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in any way,” he lets out.

“No, no,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand that was still holding yours. “You did nothing wrong, I just.” You stop yourself, trying to figure out what to tell him. “I think you want more than I do from this.”

His shoulders deflate at your words. “What do you want from this?”

This wasn’t a conversation you pictured having as the waiter brought over the food you had already forgotten you ordered, sitting there in public as the stream from the panini you got started to reach your face. But there you were, in the cafe, talking about where you wanted this relationship to go with the boy sitting in front of you. This perfect, gorgeous, sweet boy who was everything you could ever wish for in a man. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be dating someone.”

________________

You hadn’t seen him in a week and a half. Not that you didn’t want to, but you were working late nights trying to get everything done (thank you overtime pay), and the nights that you weren’t working late were the ones that he was either traveling or just playing a game and didn’t have time to come see you. You missed him.

“Why aren’t you dating him, again?” Cellini asks you while you’re sitting at your desk, staring at your phone instead of actually doing any work. You were trying to manifest him texting, calling, sending a snapchat, anything that would give you a reason to talk to him like you had been waiting for all day.

“I don’t date.”

Cellini scoffs, earning a confused look from you. “You’ve been spending the last year and a half that I have known you talking about how you hated that you felt like you were ‘behind’ everyone you knew when it came to meeting the person you were supposed to spend your life with. Now you’ve met him, and all you’re doing is using him to sleep with and then as a wedding date. Then what?”

“I am not. I’m not ready to date,” you try to argue back.

“No, you think you aren’t ready to date. Tyson is your person. Tyson is the one you’ve been waiting for in your life to be yours, I know it.

You roll your eyes at your friend. “How do you know he’s my person?”

Cellini shrugs, looking down at her hands and starts picking at her cuticles, not making eye contact with you. “I don’t for sure, it’s just a feeling. But you won’t know unless you date him. Like, actually date him.”

“I told you, I don’t care about dating. I have time when I’m older to date, I don’t have to start thinking about that stuff yet,” you say to her, leaving out your arbitrary age that you wanted to date knowing that it was ridiculous.

Cellini rolls her eyes at you, standing up from her chair. “There’s no timeline set in stone about when you meet someone. There’s no schedule about when you’re supposed to fall in love, get married, when you’re supposed to accomplish those ‘milestones’ that you always talk about. When your person comes, they come. Your person is here in your life, and you’re trying to keep him out of it for God only knows what reason.”

Before you can respond, Cellini walks away, leaving her words hanging around you. ‘Your person is here in your life.’ There’s no way she could actually know that Tyson was the one for you. He was just your wedding date, and nothing more.

________________

The night before Jeremy’s wedding, you and Tyson were at your place, as you had been the last few nights that both of you were free. You couldn’t help but feel like the two of you were actually dating, something you were trying to stay away from, something that you kept telling yourself that you weren’t ready for.

You were cuddled up next to him on your bed, the sheets pulled up over your chest, Tyson’s hand in yours as you both tried to catch your breath. Tyson was unlike any guy you had been with before, so why were you trying so hard to push Cellini’s words out of your head.

Tyson kisses the top of your hair, mumbling something against you that you could make out. You look up to him, a lazy smile on his face. “What was that?”

“I like this,” he says, using his free hand to tilt your chin up to him, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. He pulls you close to him for a sweet, slow kiss, his hand cupping your face before working its way to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him. He pulls away first, you wanting to go back for more when he presses his forehead against yours. “I like you.”

You smile at him, unsure what to say before settling back onto his shoulder, feeling him kiss the top of your head again. The wedding was tomorrow. You probably weren’t going to see Tyson again after tomorrow night, probably not like this at least. You were trying to tell yourself that you didn’t want anything more with Tyson than you had now, and that you shouldn’t even being doing what you’ve been doing with him, no matter how good it was. No, no matter how great it was. “I like you, too,” you let out, barely above a whisper.

Tyson was everything, but he couldn’t be anything.

“I need to ask you something,” he tells you, shifting so you’re forced to sit up and look at him. “We’ve been dating for a little bit now,” he starts.

“Wait,” you cut him off. “This isn’t dating.”

You could feel your heart shatter at the look on his face, the absolute disappointment and confusion that fell on him. “Then what is this?” he asked, quietly.

“We’ve been on dates, but we aren’t dating. This was just for the wedding,” you say to him, hating yourself for those words.

“So when do we get to the part where we are dating?” he asks, the tone in his voice starting to change.

You sit up a little straighter, feeling an argument coming on between you and him. “We don’t.”

“Why? I like you, I want to be with you, and I have a feeling you like me and want to be with me,” he says.

You bite your lip, knowing that he was right. “I do, but,”

“But, what?” he cuts you off. “Is this that stuff Cellini had warned me about?”

“What did she warn you about?”

“You don’t want to date anyone. You have it in your head that you have to wait for a certain time in your life where you can start living and being with someone else. Why?”

You flinch at his words, something about the bite in his tone that you didn’t expect making you recoil from him. You never really thought about why other than, ‘because.’ “There’s no point in doing anything serious right now,” was the best answer you could give him.

“But, why?” he asks again, more force in his voice.

You couldn't answer him, your mouth opening in closing like a fish while he stared you down waiting. He didn’t wait too long for an answer, getting up out of your bed and gathering his clothes. He turns to you while you sat there, silently, shaking his head with his clothing balled up against him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tyson opens his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, shaking his head and closing the door behind him instead of letting out what he wanted to. He stood on the other side of your door, putting on his clothing as silently as possible while he tried to listen to see if you were going to try to chase after him.

You sat there, too stunned to move. You had just sabotaged what was probably the best relationship you would have in a long time, with the best guy you had met, the most perfect person for you was sitting in your bed next to you, and there you were, letting him walk away.

Tyson let out another sigh, trying to fight back his tears while you were there letting yours fall. You got up, not loud enough for Tyson to hear you, and crept over to your door. You had no idea if he was still there, your hand hovering over the doorknob. If you had opened the door while Tyson was still there, his back leaning against the wall next to it, he would stay.

He would stay, and do everything he could to convince you that you were both in the right place in your life to be with each other. Deep down, he knew that everything about you two was what you needed from the other; you were his comfort, his voice of reason even though you were just as insane as he was, his person to talk to when he wasn’t right for whatever reason. He was your strength, the warmth that you needed when you couldn’t find it otherwise, your joy and the smile on your face.

All you had to do was open the door. Your hand was right there ready to open it, Tyson there on the other side without you knowing. You just had to open it and you would find what could be your forever relationship on the other side.

And you didn’t open the door.

________________

“You look like shit,” Cellini says when she opens the door to her place. The two of you were getting ready together that morning and heading over to the wedding that way. You already knew that Cellini’s observation was true; you spent the night after you heard your door close crying. You were kicking yourself for letting Tyson get away from you, but what else were you going to do. You didn’t want to be with someone. But Tyson made you think otherwise. You always heard that you would find your person when you stopped looking, and there he was, when you weren’t looking.

“I know that, help me not look like shit,” you mumble, pushing past her with your dress in hand.

The two of you get ready in silence, Cellini already filled in about Tyson storming out last night. She was mad at you for it, but not showing you at that moment. You were mad enough at yourself, anyway. You spent the night thinking about Tyson, wishing he was there with your, the image of him burned in your mind every time you closed your eyes. You hated yourself for letting him walk away. 23 was too far away for you when Tyson was so close.

“Is he still coming today?” Cellini breaks the silence between you.

You shrug looking at yourself in the mirror. You just finished your makeup, the thought of Tyson ditching you starting to make you tear up, and there was not enough time to redo your makeup if you were going to cry. “Do you think he’s the kind of guy to bail?” Cellini gets up, gently resting her hand on your shoulder.

“For you, I don’t think he would.” You nod, knowing that if you said anything, it would just be followed with a sob. You were pretty much ready to go, slipping into your dress and heels before Cellini tried to find the keys to her car. She had helped you pick out a red dress, outside of your normal black, but fuck, you looked good.

You just wanted Tyson to see you in it.

There was nothing that could occupy your mind other than Tyson during the wedding. Jeremy was saying he would spend the rest of his life with the love of his life, he and Steven looking the happiest you had ever seen them. They were saying their vows, you trying to force a smile when Cellini nudged you in the side. You couldn’t see Jeremy and Steven. You wanted to be standing there with Tyson, something absurd for only having known him for a few weeks, but Cellini was right, he was your person.

Love at first sight was never on your mind. Falling in love quickly was never on your mind. Finding your person was something you never thought would happen, and neither was letting him go.

Getting to the reception was a blur, the first part of it was a blur, and you were sure the rest of the night would be the same. There was nothing, no one, that could keep your attention or really bring a smile to your face. Tyson had bailed as your date, the seat next to you empty as Jeremy and Steven and the rest of their wedding party made their entrance.

“Is this seat taken?” you hear someone say, pulling you out of your trance, Tyson with a small smile on his face as he leaned against what was his seat anyway. You smile, nodding as he takes the seat. He’s close to you, your breath hitching as you feel his knee against you. “Sorry, I’m late, practice went long,” he tells you, leaning back.

You felt weird with him next to you, the tension between you after your last conversation still lingering as neither of you said a word. Cellini didn’t seem to notice, or, she didn’t care, simply greeting Tyson and then getting up to dance with her date. She was lucky enough to have a boyfriend, Seamus looking at her the way Tyson looked at you while they danced together.

“Do you want to dance?” Tyson finally asks you, standing up and holding his hand out to you before you answer. You nod, following him to the dance floor, just as a slow song starts to play. He holds you close, his hands on the small of your back, your arms draped on his shoulders. “I waited for you to follow me last night,” he tells you.

“What?” you ask in shock. You thought he left. If you had known he was waiting, you would have went to him. But why didn’t you? “I had no idea.”

“Would you have followed me?”

You didn’t even need to think about it, the immediate ‘yes’ coming into your mind. “Of course.”

“Then why are you waiting until you’re 23, of all ages, to let yourself fall for someone?”

“I’m not.”

It was Tyson’s turn to look at you with shock, his mouth hanging open slightly while he tries to find the words. “What are you saying?”

“Waiting is stupid when I have the perfect guy right in front of me,” you tell him, your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

He doesn’t say anything, his hand leaving your back and finding your cheek to pull you in for a kiss. Everything melted away for a moment, everyone around you was gone while you were there with Tyson, the perfect, sweet, goofy, beautiful boy that you didn’t have to wait for to come into your life.

He was standing right in front of you.

[clubsmarties]

An amused smile overtook his features as she had a point. "It's like ask for forgiveness not permission sort of thing." He rolled his eyes and laughed, he set himself up for that one. "If you don't answer I'll still leave voicemails and you know I can ramble like no other about different topics. So choices for you are answer the call or be prepared to have a hundred voice mails all talking about different things." There was not going to be a day where he wouldn't enjoy annoying her just to get a reaction from her. Of course now it wasn't as bad as when they first started talking but still fun. That giggle was quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds. His heart picked up at having her so close but kept his composure. Being in a lions den with people who wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they knew his actual job was nothing compared to the way she made him feel. "Now you're taking a shot at my eyesight. Two for two. You're on a roll." That smile still plastered on his face as he said that. "Sounds like you're just jealous of my bat eyesight."

"You say that but I don't know there might be some part of you that likes hearing me talk. Especially when you've got random questions that aren't so random. I have a feeling you like my voice." She gave him food for thought. It would be funny to pull a prank on him for the fun of it. He hadn't pulled those types of shenanigans in a few years. More like a few months since he and his brother in law's would always one up the other. "A degree is just a piece of paper in the grand scheme of things. It just means that tasks were completed. Doesn't measure how smart you actually are."

"Oh okay. Now you got me curious to know what else you've been called. How imaginative these jerks have been." He could tell there wouldn't be words that would affect her the way people intended it to. That alone made him smirk. "Whatever you say, lila. Just know I'll still think you have the weirdest analogies. You can't stop me," he smiled as a soft chuckle escaped him.

"It's not childish to have a dream," he expressed. "Everyone has them. Adults and kids alike. Even animals. Whoever says that dreams are childish clearly don't understand what they actually represent. I don't know about others in life but I'm not one to squash dreams no matter how childish," he threw her words back. "They may seem to others. If it's important to you then its important to me."

The question made him think for a brief moment then grinned. "Well, milk chocolate can actually kill me so that one is out. I like both white and dark chocolate but have a preference for dark chocolate. The Godiva ones are so good. But all time favorite are the ones my sister makes. Regardless of your answer you can't get rid of me."

That elicited a laugh from him as he still stood his ground. "And you accuse me of being blind? I wore polka dots bracelets just like week. Also I do have a polka dot tie." It was the one his niece gifted him for his birthday and one he cherished as much as he did the small child. "Now hang on a moment. Why do you think a cat is scary, wouldn't you smile if you saw a friendly lighthouse instead of a boring one? Ones every other sailor has seen before?" Now he was just being difficult to be difficult. He loved when he ignited that small little fire in her when she couldn't help but contradict him.

He laughed as his brain zeroed in on how perfectly their hands fit together. Almost like they were meant to fit together. This was going to be the thing he'd get hung up on he just knew it. A startled chuckle escaped him as he followed behind her, eyes sparking with amusement at her head start. The fancy free manner in which he saw her let go if only slightly made his heart constrict in that way that Liz could make happen. Oh was he in trouble. He caught up to her and saw her sit down with her hands in his hoodie and he knew right then and there if he would have no problem being swallowed up by the ocean if the sight in front of him was the last thing he saw. He took a seat beside her and leaned his elbows over his knees as he tore his gaze away from her and focused on the water. It was serene, something shared between the two. "No," he whispered as he shook his head, letting his longer part of his hair cover one eye as he did so. "I've always wanted to. Though I may have a tiny fear of boats. Unsure though." It was a real fact he hadn't let anyone know about. He wasn't one who visibly showed his vulnerabilities easily. He kept things close to the chest most times and if it wasn't necessary to say then he wouldn't.

[duchessofostergotlands]

I had asked you a serious question on who you'd like to see if Boris stepped down. You gave me a serious answer. Now that Boris has stepped down and its Truss or Sunak, I'm seeing your point about having to choose on what time to burn your house down. I think it had some interesting choices in the race initially but they all fell out and a part of me thinks the old boys would never want Sunak for reasons which makes me worry that Truss must be really something else.

Lol yeah it’s honestly just a horrible situation all around. I haven’t admittedly followed as closely as I perhaps should because I can’t change the outcome and either way it’s terrible but you have Rishi who is a billionaire who has committed to removing us from the European Court of Human Rights and violating any laws or treaties necessary to do so or you have Liz who is a Margaret Thatcher wannabe who aggressively pushed the “anti-woke” agenda while being the literal Equalities Minister (hence why the Daily Mail loves her). Also Rishi is smart but in an evil way, like Boris. Whereas Liz is just a moron. So like…do I want someone with vaguely functioning brain cells who could do the basic elements of the job but risk them securing Tory party rule for another decade or do I want someone who could undermine the Tories long term but would be wildly incompetent in the short term? What a choice!

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Devout Worshipper: Dark! Peter Parker x Professor!Reader

A/N: So this girl here tried something else. I’ve been wanting to upload since long but this got delayed a lot and now I have several WIPs but finished this first. Sorry not proofread. I’m still discovering my writing style and my forte and thank you for staying and witnessing my experiments! Wear safety goggles please.

Summary: The best of all the educators yet, both smart and stunning, became Peter’s mentor in university. Peter grew too much of a liking for her, from a clingy scholar to her devout worshipper.

WARNING: STORY AHEAD HAS NON-CON, KIDNAPPING, POSSIBLE DRUGGING, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOUR, OBSESSION. DNI IF TRIGGERED.

You sat on the teacher’s desk, going through the latest thesis published by Dr. Banner last week. He had given you one of the several copies and asked you to go through it and your judgement on it. The classroom was slowly filling in as the scholars stacked in, their buzzes growing loud with each passing trice.

You were on the last paragraph of your current page when a slight thump made you break out of your stupor, you tilted your head up to find a brawny youngster leaning in front of you, with his hand planted beside your ass on the ebony desk. He had blonde locks with grey eyes and was definitely a sports’ team captain, basketball you believed, who had his own posse of wannabes behind him.

You kept the paper down in your lap and met his eyes again with an inquiring look. “Yes?”

“You seem new. Me and my guys will save you a seat at the back, so come there when your little reading session is over, babe.” He said smugly, his eyes brimming with mischievousness as they dipped to your cleavage not-so-subtly and stood there gawking while he awaited your response.

You paused to see the whole class had gone quiet watching your encounter with the jock. You gave him a sickly-sweet smile as you nodded shyly for show and he tapped your knee with his other hand before leaving. As soon as his back faced you, you rolled your eyes so hard at his antics you heard the first-benchers gasp. You could still hear him talking to his ‘friends’, “I love myself a badass girl like her.”

You returned to your thesis but before you could finish the last few sentences, the bell rung and you had to stop. Thanks blondie.

You got down from the desk, jumping on your black heels as you made your way over to the door, closing it as lock clicked into place.

The entire class was watching you with quizzical glances as you stood in front of your desk this time and wrung your hands together, “Good morning class and congratulation on making it to your second year in college, I will be your mentor and also your lecturer for biology for this semester and for those who pass, also their next one.” The entire class’ jaw slackened and you giggled lightly as waited for them to digest the news, and then told them your name.

“I know a lot of you see science itself as a chore but since you’ve already taken it, I suggest you try to pay attention as you will have to study it anyways. However, because I can relate to your struggles, I will try my best to be a companion or advisor, whichever way you prefer it, and help you get through the class with flying colours hopefully. So, ask me anything, no matter how stupid or absurd you believe your doubt or query is. I’ll answer as many times as you ask and trust me when I say that I am a woman of my word. You have any questions for the semester?” You finished with a bright smile on your face as you saw the students in the front relax slightly. At least you had their approval.

“Ma’am” The blonde kid started without raising his hand, stressing the word unnecessarily as he and his horde sniggered at some stupid inside joke, and continued, “Can I have your number?”

Some of the students gulped while the others leaned forward interested in your response. That kid thought he could fluster you by putting you in a weird spot. He smirked arrogantly, leaning back in his chair as you raised your eyebrows.

“That, Mr.?” You paused as you lingered for his answer, which came almost immediately.

“Flash Thompson, but you can call me whatever you want baby.”

His friends hooted at his pickup line, some praising his smoothness while some high-fived him.

“That, Mr. Thompson, is an excellent example of the stupid questions I mentioned formerly. Thank you for helping me make it clearer to the rest of the class, an extra point for you in the first grading assignment.”

His face fell as his jaw ticked and you turned to face the rest of the class again, “Though I suppose I will give you my number but for emergency purposes only, you can contact me on my e-mail though which I will be using most frequently. You are supposed to mail me majority of your papers this semester and the grading pattern is expected to change this time around but I will inform you of that when the time for the first assignment comes around. Any other questions, and if possible, a bit wiser ones?”

Peter knew he liked you that day. You were attractive and stunning, yes, that too in the natural way, without make-up and tight clothes. But of course, there was more to you than that, you were smart and witty, hence a young lecturer in this esteemed college and you being a science enthusiast as well was like chocolate chips on top of a well baked dessert. You were spirited and jaunty and your sardonic and sassy replies were never degrading or humiliating. The five-year difference between you and the class made you their elder sibling rather than professor.

The first benchers worshipped your intellect while the last benchers adored your sarcasm. Everyone could see how you gave your all to teach, every trick for learning, showing real skeletons and organs in formalin, easily becoming the favourite mentor ever. You could easily be labelled as the university’s crush of the year.

But Peter soon began to despise that. The perverted comments by the students and jealous, snarky remarks by the plastics irked him. He was enraged by the geeks admiring you but baffled all the more by the strange palette of emotions he had never suffered before.

The sheer envy he was sinking in had never even surfaced while he dated Liz or MJ. For him you were a Goddess, tons divine than his exes or any other female for that matter, who should be properly worshipped and treasured.

He knew these sentiments weren’t right, but in this twisted world where he had combatted with unnatural beings and seen unimaginable horrors, he began to believe morality is just fiction used by the herd of inferior men to hold back the few superior men.

It was the last day before spring break and no matter how much your pupils loved you, it wasn’t enough for them to not get distracted and murmur around. Only half of your entire class’s strength came and that half somehow managed to create more ruckus than usual. Even you were minutes late, not in the mood to teach this aloof and uninterested batch of youngsters.

You sat on the table and crossed your legs, which was somewhat your habit that you weren’t really proud of but continued to indulge in nonetheless, and cleared your throat times to catch the attention of the unmindfully fantasizing students.

The baritone of the males and shrieky pitches of the females made you clutch your head. You were sure going to end with disprin at the end of day. You clapped loudly and effectively so, gathered the class’s attention, but by the roll of their eyes and glares on their faces, you deduced they weren’t happy. Who would have thought?

“Okay, before you all slaughter me to the netherworld with your lethal gazes, let me make it clear that no teaching will commence today.” The class hollered appreciatively and whistled, while you paused to let them do so. Teaching on the last day before a vacation was like speaking to yourself only but with the consequence of your name being added to several hitlists.

“I’ll distribute the graded assignments submitted last Thursday and then, since I’m required to clock thirty minutes of educating at the bare minimum, we can play something, maybe you have some talents to show, principles to mock or some gossip to attend to.” The college kids laughed at your poor joke, perhaps too thrilled for their break that nothing could make their mood sour. “We’ll see accordingly, but first, raise your hand when I say your name, I want to learn at least the names of the students who bothered to come to uni on the concluding day.”

You distributed the papers back, making sure to associate each name with a face and the students took them stuffing it straight inside, not bothering to check their scoring and possibly wreck their mood.

“Peter Parker?” A hand raised in the second last row shyly, a flustered boy with glasses on his nose and a hoodie covering his head. He barely made eye contact and you smiled at his nervy, edgy form hoping to ease him a bit. Your heels sounded heavy against the few stairs as you made your way to the back, the class buzzing with laughs as students barely paid you any heed.

The draught of epinephrine Peter felt was unlike anything he had ever felt before, nothing like the anxiety on the battlefield or the excessive sweating while impressing Mr. Stark. The apprehension he felt was decuple that.

It’s not like he had never talked to you afore, he constantly asked clever doubts, which he knew the answer to already, of course, to make an impression on you, but that was with a two feet and 7.5 inches of teacher’s desk in between. Yes, he measured. He had even made sure a couple times, let’s be honest, more than several times that his Goddess had arrived her fascinating abode safely.

But this time, they’d be hardly half a foot apart and the anticipation was tearing him apart. He did want her close, in all ways possible, but was he ready enough to not make a fool of himself? All his previous conversations were thought out meticulously and beforehand but was ready for a spontaneous interaction?

“Good job, Smart Cookie.” You mused at Peter with a wink and dropped the paper on his desk as he looked at you with those innocent, doe-eyes of his, his cheeks and nose a tad bit rouge.

Peter’s hearing ability got lost as the sound of his heart pumping blood filled his tympanum. He could only watch you retreat back to the front of the class, your hips swaying invitingly in that damned black pencil skirt as you called another person’s name.

Smart Cookie was his favourite nickname now.

It was pretty late when you left the university premises, finishing up all you had to and even preparing for your first week of teaching after vacation because you knew how procrastinating errands went.

You couldn’t almost believe how you were on the adult end of things, making sure and guiding other people. With the job, came a lot of obligations that you had to fulfil and being responsible was hard, really demanding. You suddenly had a lot of reverence for all the teachers in your life, from kindergarten to your degrees.

You were on a sabbatical from research temporarily, signing a teaching contract for three years minimum and you were satisfies with the refreshment. Interacting young, curious minds was almost like a recreational activity you indulged in free time and the various angles they approached science at even taught you something. The scholars found it in themselves to even question well-established biology.

Slightly humming, you made a mental checklist of what all was left to do for your solo, self-discovering trip the next week. All that you should pack, clothes according to the weather in the hills and enough emergency eatables. Maybe you could revisit the work-in-progress papers of yours or maybe it would be a leisure excursion only.

Only you never made it to your flight.

 The pounding of your head made a thrumming noise in your head, increasing its tempo and volume with each passing instant. Your eyelids felt heavy and opening them felt like a chore, which even more difficult considering the light that flooded your vision with every bit they opened. Your senses felt overwhelmed being burdened and strained with their everyday tasks after what you assumed to be at least hours of inactivity.

The sudden spike of pain shooting in your head made you jerk your hand to clutch your throbbing forehead, only to fail and find your hands bounded to something. They weren’t cuffed or shackled, nothing dug in your wrist either. Maybe a rope but the texture wasn’t rough enough. After what felt like minutes, you opened your eyes and sat up, as straight as your confined self could, and looked around.

The room was shades of grey and blue, a giant bed was where you were sitting. The giant ceiling to floor windows beside you, cast enough moonlight in the bedroom for you to see the entire bedroom. The view outside was so picturesque, that you had been gawking were you not afraid of your surroundings. You could discern you were high up, with how small the vehicles looked and another wave terror ran through you.

A white desk with a blue chair had a laptop atop it, also sitting beside several books. You would have noticed them being your subject and recommendation but you were scanning your brain as to how you landed here. With your vision now clearer, you saw your restraints to be like silk but no matter how hard you pulled, they didn’t snap.

You were full on panicking and staring wide eyed when the laptop entered your vision again. There was no other electronic except it and you calmed yourself to think rationally. Deep breaths, in and out. Your best bet right now was to hope that the laptop was connected to someone’s wifi.

You slid off the edge of the bed and tried to cut the weird silk ropes with bedside table’s corner. It took some time but you succeeded, your hands freed from the poster of the bed as you made your way towards the laptop, after checking the locked door of course.

Another wave of panic ran through you when the laptop wasn’t connected to anything and all available connections were password protected. You noticed the laptop to be brand new, and of a very expensive company that was out of your budget. You also noticed the OS was very different, not the usual Windows you ran. Your AI Cortana in this overpriced gadget, was named Karen.

You still refused to wait for your captor to show up and snooped to find something on the laptop, anything. There was no profile of the owner but you did manage to find at least three GB of videos and images.

Your hands froze and eyes widened when you saw the security footage of your building’s outside, the little bakery’s neon sign confirming the location. The videos were the same, of you entering and exiting every day, just the dates on the videos varied.

Another folder had clips with the same dates, but they were in the lobby of your apartment, your potted plants outside your door the affirmation again. It showed you getting milks and newspaper every morning, ordering take out several days and placing the garbage bags outside.

The earliest date in each folder was after your first month of moving here, second week of teaching probably.

When you opened the third folder, as the video started your hands covered your mouth as you tried your best to hold back the sob and making a noise. The screen showed two camera screens, both inside your apartment. The first showed the living room clearly and your kitchen and you concluded it to be behind some article on the bookshelf.

The other screen showed your bedroom.

You could still see the floral bedsheet with the white quilt atop it. Your red suitcase that you took out from the storage for your trip this morning, resting beside the wall. Your lamp switched on from when you mayhap left it on, already late for the last day of work. As the time hit 12 AM at the bottom of the screen, the video ended and played again. There were even more folders and you wondered how far would the surveillance go, till your bathroom?

Your abductor had live footage of your house being sent to his laptop and that scared you shitless. This was not a random crime, that ransom could end. You were here for something, some sick purpose you didn’t even know. Was this a hate crime? Would you even make it-

“I really wish you hadn’t looked there.”

The deep, familiar voice amplified your fear and you turned your head slowly, almost comically to look at him. Another gasp escaped your lips as you found warm eyes of your student and brows furrowed in confusion and fear when you saw the deranged lust in his eyes. Was this some sick prank?

“What am I doing here and what is this?” You gestured to the screen playing footages of the inside of your house. Seeing someone familiar and the probability of this being a prank should have calmed you somewhat but the revolting trick and the strange darkness in the boy’s eyes made you even more wary.

As he took a step closer, you hastily climbed out of the chair and backed away, nearing the bed again as he locked the door and closed in on you. He made a move to snatch you and you jumped to the other side of the bed barely missing him by an inch. You reached for the door hoping to find it unlocked but it didn’t even budge.

You pulled even harder while being painfully aware of how that kid from your class just sat on the bed and observed, having the utmost confidence in the door. Your frenzied state got a jump-scare when a female voice broke the silence, “Authorization to access locked doors is granted to Mr. Parker only, please refrain from damaging the property, Mam.”

So some tech-boy with a rich background is set on you?

“Please sit on the bed and I’ll explain, please.”

His doe eyes would have fooled you were you not extremely aware of your environment due to the adrenaline coursing through your arteries. He was an exceptionally good actor, you had to give him that. You prided yourself to be an excellent judge of character and here this guy had deceived you for three months.

The AI called him Parker, what was his name again?

Patrick? Peyton? Peter? Yes, Peter Parker.

“Peter?” You softly called out and his eyes widened as a blush crept up to his cheeks as he relished the fact that you remembered his name. You sighed internally, praying that this was a case of a harmless crush gone wrong and he was just innocently hopeful. The image of his dark, lust covered eyes crossed your mind to make an argument but you pushed it aside to calm your nerves and stay as relaxed as you possibly could with all that was happening.

“I know that this is all a big misunderstanding but you are really scaring me here. Can you please at least let me out of this room to somewhere open?” You looked at him, hoping to talk him down and get out. You didn’t think he would hurt you but you weren’t willing to take any chances with this maniacal youngster either.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that, you’ll run.”

Of course, you’ll run, who wouldn’t?

“Peter, boy, listen to me-”

“No, you listen to me! I admit the situation isn’t ideal and you’re probably terrified because of your meddling but this is all for you! I’m here to protect you! The world out there isn’t safe and your heavenly self needs to be resuscitated.”

“Peter, you’re not making any sense. I’m an adult, older than you and you need to understand boundaries-”

“I’ve seen the way of the world, trust me, in fact, far more than you have! Did you know that raping and murdering women on Asgard is considered a common crime? How Hydra is kidnapping young, bright women to exploit them for breeding projects? How the Red Skull resurfaced and his ideals now include eradicating women from Earth as well?”

“Pete-”

“No, you don’t know! You are just blissfully unaware of this world, so oblivious you don’t even how know the perverted and debauched comments your own class makes?”

His outburst frightened you as you felt yourself losing control of the situation, maybe you never were in control. But now the unleashed fury on Peter’s face told you that had triggered an irrevocable topic.

“Calm down, it’s alright.” You said quietly, hoping to ease him again but his steps towards made you back up yourself to the other side of the bed.

“You, You are still scared of me, aren’t you? You still don’t understand, do you? I’ll show you, show you how much I worship you, the true extent of my devotion.” Every ludicrous declaration of his bit away your hope of getting out.

As he approached you again from the foot of the bed, you jumped across the bed again, hoping to reprise your stunt from before. However, your jumping halted midway as something glued your right wrist to the headboard and you jerked due to inertia of movement. As your eyes looked to your hand, the same silky rope met your vision.

You did not have the time or the wits to ponder over the fluid, about how your abductor shot it or how it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard you pulled. A hand on your ankle prompted you to try one last time as you screamed as loud as you could, for as long as your lungs allowed.

“It won’t work, Mr. Stark got me a soundproofed apartment. Pretty cool, right?”

A sob wracked through your entire frame as the tears descended, the frustration and hopelessness and dread, all attacking you at once. Your legs kicked and flexed and when your left fist swung, he restrained all your limbs after dodging, of course.

“I just want to love you, is it too much too ask?” He asked in a quiet whisper, his hands undressing you cloth by cloth; first unzipping the side of your pencil skirt and unwrapping it, then unbuttoning your blouse. When he brought out a pocket knife, your eyes instinctively closed, a “Please don’t hurt me” falling from your lips.

“Never.” He replied with absolute assurance.

The blade cut through your blouse first, leaving you in your garments while Peter sat back on his knees to admire you. You’ve been flattered with the adoration in his eyes had you not gone through the mayhem that you had.

His hand caressed your curves, feeling the soft skin underneath as he took his time admiring you, committing each feature to memory while your tears poured, your eyes never leaving the knife he held.

The blade invaded your privacy once again as it took away your last pieces of defense, leaving you utterly nude and your cries wreaked havoc in the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes found Peter face and you noticed his eyes twinkling in admiration trailing up and down your body several times. His disciple complex was scaring you, you almost bordered considering his Goddess belief.

“So stunning.” He whispered as he came down to kiss you, his lips meeting yours in this bruising embrace of both your mouths and as he began to undress himself simultaneously, his dramatics became the least of your concerns. The thought of the inevitable future made home in your mind and gave you one last bout of courage to try and fight.

The restraints on your limbs didn’t even budge and every fleck of hope deserted your body when you saw the chiseled abs on his scarred torso, his biceps bulging and silently warning you into staying put. He made quick work of his remaining outfit and his hard, angry member was bigger than you had anticipated.

You had not expected a stereotypical nerd to be packing, with muscles and brawns, hardly to even expect him to be the largest among the ones you had ever experienced.

“Please don’t.” You mumbled, defeated, knowing he would not listen. You closed your eyes expecting the intrusion to get it over with. You were caught off handed when you felt him shift and devour into your pussy. He feasted like a man famished, his tongue leaving no area unlapped. The sparks in your abdomen made you queasy and giddy at the same time, you could barely open your eyes due to the intensity of his actions and when he added two of his shockingly calloused fingers, you let go of the coil in mere seconds.

Your limbs sat limp while your vision whitened, your mind foggy and hazy, deprived of all sensibility. When his thick thighs rested on top of yours, your gaze ascended to meet his already staring pupils, the warm, honey brown orbs now a black abyss. You couldn’t even protest in your blissful state as lined himself and entered your cavern, which was lubricated enough courtesy of him.

The stretch burned but as he rocked himself and thrusted with a rhythm, the pleasure started building from scratch. Each push was sturdier than the last and every spot he hit managed to make your breath hitch. Your hands and legs freed as the fluid perhaps melted but the last of your energy was being used by you to stay conscious. When he descended to kiss you once again and trailed kisses to your collarbone, your hands held onto him for support, his biceps providing anchor to you, made of pure muscle.

His teeth bruised your skin as he lightly bit your neck, reaching his end and releasing his load. The warmth that filled you made you let go, his orgasm encouraging another one from you.

Your eyes drooped, your body filled with exhaustion due to all the struggling as you curled in to your side and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to forget your abductor and the forceful, mind shattering ecstasy you felt. Your refused to think about the guilt and the uncertainty of your impending doom in the hands of this maniacal student of yours. You just wished for sleep, for some peace alone.

The wish of yours was not granted when you felt Peter slide behind you, his hand wrapping around your middle as if you were lover. You still gave into slumber, but not before feeling him peck your shoulder with a promise.

“This devotee of yours will worship you forever and always, Goddess.”