#money and access forgoed

[hecateisalesbian]

My Roman Empire is that I will never have enough time or money or access to do everything

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part II - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute, uncomfortable situations (nothing extreme)

a/n: thanks for all the love on the first part! Hope y'all like this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Part II

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

“You look well rested.”

Cashmere winked at you from her seat in front of her vanity. She was brushing out her long hair, getting ready for the evening. You let out a sigh and plopped down at your own vanity in the dressing room. 

“I am,” you replied. “Someone bought out all my nights this month but no one’s shown up. It’s…strange, don’t you think?”

Cashmere shrugged, going back to looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Seems to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

You began putting on your makeup for the night, not that you’d have any clients. But you were still expected to be in the Courtyard for a bit. “Secret, maybe, but they're definitely not an admirer. If they were, why wouldn’t they come get what they paid for?”

“Some of these Lords just throw their money around to impress us. I wouldn’t think too much about it, Serenity,” Cashmere said. You fought the urge to cringe at the fake name. “Consider it a vacation of sorts.” 

“Until Lydia finds out,” you snorted. “Then she’ll probably double book me.” 

“Just rub some kohl under your eyes,” Cashmere suggested. “Make it look like you’re still having sleepless nights like the rest of us.” 

“Not a bad idea.”

More girls walked in and you fell silent. Telling Cashmere about your current situation was one thing. You trusted her as a friend. But some of the other girls would likely pass on the information to Lydia and that’s the last thing you wanted. 

You finished your makeup before shrugging on a new lingerie set with a dark pink silk robe over it. You followed the girls to the Courtyard, ready to perform your nightly duties so you could retire back to your room for another peaceful night alone thanks to your mysterious donor. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Your vacation was short lived because the next day, Keir showed up and requested sixteen specific girls, your name included, for a party that was being hosted in Hewn City with some elite nobles. Even the High Lord and Lady would be present apparently. Not that you’d be allowed to approach them. Every time you worked these kinds of events, all the girls were given strict instructions on how to dress, what to wear, and what Lords to entertain. 

A dress was waiting for you in the dressing room. It was a long black dress that fell to the floor with two slits on the side to show off your legs. It was backless with a few thin straps that criss crossed on your lower back. Sitting beneath it was a pair of silver heels and on your vanity sat a matching silver jewelry set. 

You had to forgo your bra for the dress, likely the reason it was chosen. You did a sultry smokey eye and dark red lip for your makeup before you pinned your hair into a pretty updo to show off the back of the dress. 

By the time you were finished getting ready, the other girls were too. It wasn’t long before you were being led into the throne room. During parties like this, only the elite and those invited had access to this room in the castle. 

The ebony floors were polished, the carved pillars spanning so high you could hardly see where they connected to the ceiling. Various nobles mingled together, sitting on settees, smoking cigars, with glasses of wine and whiskey in their hands. 

The High Lord and Lady sat on their thrones on top of the dais at the front of the expansive room, dressed finely in all black with their crowns on their heads. Standing next to the High Lord was the General, the big, brutish Illyrian. Next to the High Lady stood the Shadowsinger, his eyes scanning the room. You’d seen the Shadowsinger plenty of times during the occasional trips your High Lord and Lady made to Hewn City. But that night he had walked through your doors in The Labyrinth, you had been taken aback by how beautiful he was. 

Memories of your night with him flashed through your head and you tried to fight off the blush and heat that started coursing through your body. Azriel had been a generous lover. Far more generous than your other clients, that’s for sure. He had actually cared about your pleasure. Not to mention he was the hottest male to walk through your doors.

It was a pity that he had disappeared so quickly and never returned.

“Alright, girls, you know what to do,” Lydia hissed at the group of you. “Do not embarrass me. Anyone who steps out of line will receive a new mark.” 

That was the last thing you wanted to do. You looked down at your hand, at the small tattoo on the inside of your ring finger. You only had two more marks left. Two marks and then freedom would be yours. 

You started mingling with the various Lords, pretending to eagerly listen to them brag about the most mundane things like their latest hunt or new investments. Servants meandered around, filling wine and whiskey glasses. 

When you were younger, you had accepted them like most of the other girls. Having a little alcohol in you always made the night easier. But you were going to steer clear of it—not wanting to jeopardize your progress with Lord Keir and Lydia. 

You started making your way towards the front of the room. You had to steer clear of the High Lord and Lady but the wealthier and more important males always sat near the front. And if you caught the attention of someone Keir wanted gone, that would be just an extra bonus to the money you’d be making off them. 

You were used to eyes trailing after you everywhere you went, but something else was tugging on your senses, making you feel not like you were being ogled at like always but watched. 

Your eyes darted around until they landed on a familiar pair of hazel ones. Azriel hadn’t moved a single step from his post but his eyes were on you. Your steps faltered for a second, taken aback by how intense his stare was. 

Was he scared that you would out him? Address him in front of his High Lord? He should know that you couldn’t. The same way he couldn’t mention anything that took place in the Labyrinth. 

Your name being called shook you from your thoughts. 

Your attention was pulled to a handsome male with long, white hair that matched his equally pale skin. Lord Thanatos’s golden eyes were running up and down your body as he sat sprawled in an armchair like it was the High Lord’s throne. He beckoned you to him with two fingers. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you had no other choice but to go to him. He was your least favorite client but he had a weird obsession with you. It was rare for him to choose any other girl in The Labyrinth besides you. You gave him a seductive smile, slipping into your role for the night. “How may I help you, my Lord?”

You let out a small gasp as he latched onto your wrist and pulled you onto his lap. The Lords around him all snickered. He brushed your hair to one side before whispering in your ear, “You’re going to be helping me a lot tonight, sweetheart.” 

Your insides shriveled up. Lord Thanatos was your least favorite client because of how rough he was with you. But he paid a lot of money so Lydia and the guards often looked the other way, only sending a healer into your room once he left. 

“I’m looking forward to it, my Lord,” you purred, resting a hand on his chest. You weren’t, of course. Not even because of the pain he’d inflict on you but more so because Lord Thanatos was Keir’s secondhand man and closest confidant. Which meant those two lines tattooed on your finger would still be there when you woke up tomorrow morning. 

Lord Thanatos went back to chatting with the various nobles seated on the couches and settees around him. If it wasn’t for his wandering hands on your body, you would’ve thought he was ignoring you. His hardening cock that was pressing into your backside had you shifting as much as you could to his thigh. You glanced around the room only to find Azriel’s eyes still on you. His fists were clenched, his face frozen with a hint of anger. Anger and something else that seemed suspiciously like longing. 

You shifted again in Lord Thanatos’s lap for an entirely different reason now. 

Cashmere happened to be walking by when Lord Thanatos grabbed onto her wrist and yanked her down to sit on his other thigh, forcing the two of you to share the small space. 

She giggled. “Two of us? Don’t tell me you’re getting greedy, my Lord.” 

You exchanged a small look with her. It didn’t happen often but sometimes clients wanted to take two girls at once. You preferred when you were chosen along with Cashmere, because you two were close friends which made it less awkward. 

“I think Serenity wants someone to play with,” he smirked, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

“Anything for you, my Lord,” you smiled. “You know how much I love to please you.” 

He leaned back in his chair and tossed his arms behind his head like he commanded the room. “Go on then. Kiss.” 

You glanced at Cashmere who gave you a dip of the head so you reached forward and hooked some of her ginger hair behind her pointed ear before kissing her lightly. She tasted like cherry wine. You pulled back after a second and for some reason, your eyes caught Azriel’s. He was closer now, leaning on a pillar, wreathed in shadows—watching. He twirled his dagger in his hand with ease. 

“Oh come on, Serenity. Don’t play coy,” Thanatos laughed. “I know that mouth can do better than that.” 

Cashmere grabbed your face lightly, her eyes shining with a look that urged you on. You kissed her properly this time, caressing her face. This time the two of you gave the Lord what he wanted. But you could feel Azriel’s overwhelming stare still on you. 

It wasn’t until your lips were swollen and you were panting that you finally let up. You could feel your lipstick smeared all over and wiped it with your hand. 

“Oh, she’s made such a mess of me, my Lord,” you pouted. “Will you excuse me so I can fix myself up?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said, pulling Cashmere closer to him. “But don’t keep us waiting.” 

“Of course,” you said with a nod, rising from his lap. 

When you glanced at the pillar Azriel had been leaning on, he was still staring. It was a bit unnerving. You let out a shaky breath and quickly hurried out of the throne room and into one of the bathing chambers down the corridor. You rested your hands on the edge of the sink, staring down at the basin. You just needed a breather. Just a second to collect yourself. 

Not a moment later, you felt a prickling sensation on your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rose. Your head shot up and you left out a gasp as your eyes met a pair of hazel ones in your reflection. 

Azriel stood behind you, his shadows swarming him. 

You whirled around, backing into the sink. 

“What are you doing here!” 

Azriel took a step forward, out of the darkness. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he stated in a low voice that had goosebumps rising on your skin. 

You crossed your arms, staring up at him entirely confused both by his appearance in the bathroom of all places and his remark. “Shouldn’t be where? In the bathroom?”

“No,” he growled, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t be here, at this party.”

“What do you mean? You know what I am. We were hired—” You cut yourself off as you had a realization. “It was you, wasn’t it? The one who booked up all my nights?” 

Azriel said nothing, gave no reaction other than his large wings twitching. You swallowed thickly and turned back around, away from his daunting stare, finding it easier to stare at him through the reflection on the mirror. You summoned your small clutch with some magic before pulling out your tube of lipstick. 

“Look, Azriel,” you began, starting to apply your lipstick. “You’re not the first male to feel ashamed after sleeping with me. If you’re doing this to absolve yourself from whatever guilt you have, consider it forgiven.”

Azriel stepped closer, his face darkening. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood my actions. I do not feel ashamed because I slept with you, angel. I’m ashamed that I made you sleep with me.” 

You shoved your lipstick back in your purse, turning around to face him. “You didn’t make me do anything. I knew what this job entailed when I signed up for it, okay?”

“But is it…is it what you want?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I can’t say it’s been a dream of mine. But it's a hell of a lot better than being sold off to some male and having all my freedoms taken away.”

Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, tousling it. “Those shouldn’t be your only two choices.”

“Well, take that up with our High Lord, Azriel, I don’t know what to tell you,” you sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my client is waiting—”

You went to brush past Azriel to the door but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t,” he breathed, “Don’t go. I know you don’t want to be with him. I could see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t have a choice, Azriel,” you snapped, trying to pull your wrist free. “So let me go.” 

“Sounds like you’ve already had all your freedoms taken away,” he bit back, his grip unrelenting. 

“You know nothing,” you argued. “If this is the one thing I have to sacrifice to keep all my other ones, then so be it. Besides, I’m almost—”

You cut yourself off, cursing in your head at your slip-up. No one could know about the deals the girls at The Labyrinth had with Keir. If word got out because of you…

“Almost what? What were you going to say?”

Azriel’s eyes were pleading with you, like he was hanging off every word that came out of your mouth. You let out a shaky breath and shook your head. “Nothing. Nothing, forget it. Now, please let me go. You’re going to get me in trouble with Lydia.” 

You tried to leave again but Azriel pulled you back. “I can’t stand to see you look so miserable with him. Please, let me help you. I paid for you tonight; I’ll go tell Lydia that I’m taking you back to the—”

“She won’t care. She’s just going to give you your money back,” you cut in. “Lord Thanatos pays a lot of money to have me. More than whatever you gave her.” 

“Then I’ll pay twice as much as him,” Azriel stressed. “Or whatever I have to in order to make sure he doesn’t end up in your bed tonight.” 

“I take my orders from Lydia. What she says goes.” 

“Fine, give me five minutes,” Azriel said with heavy resolve. “Just avoid him for now and I’ll sort it out.” 

You looked at him closely. “Why do you care?” 

“Don’t��don’t ask me that,” Azriel murmured before he disappeared in a whirl of shadows, leaving you stunned and confused. 

You left the bathroom finally, making your way back to the throne room. Your mind was screaming at you to go back to Lord Thanatos before you got in major trouble, but something else in you wanted to listen to Azriel. You had no idea why. You grabbed a champagne flute off a tray from a server and made yourself look busy near a pillar that concealed you from Lord Thanatos’s view. 

Five minutes passed and you were beginning to lose faith in Azriel, resigning yourself to the night with Thanatos when he stepped out of the shadows behind you. You let out a gasp of fright, spilling your full glass of champagne. Azriel grabbed the empty glass from your hand and set it on a table before taking your hand in his and guiding you away from the pillar. 

“I sorted it out,” he whispered under his breath to you. “But Lydia seemed…suspicious of my interest in you.”

“What do you mean?” You hissed back.

“She’s wary of you being a spy for the High Lord,” Azriel answered, quickly. 

You held back a laugh at that. “Then I guess we’ll have to make her think you’re interested in me for…other reasons.”

Azriel stopped and pulled you close to him, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Don’t get me wrong, angel. I am interested in you for all those other reasons, too.” 

A chill skittered down your spine and you looked up at him with a coy smile. “Good, that’ll make this easier than.” 

“Make what easier?”

“The show we’re going to put on for her,” you whispered.

Azriel’s cheeks turned a bit pink and you just knew you were going to have fun with him. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel found an armchair next to some empty couches in clearsight of Lydia and sat down, spreading his legs apart in invitation and patting his thigh. His face was unreadable as you sat in his lap, tossing an arm around his neck and throwing your legs over his thigh, leaving them to dangle. He placed an arm around your waist, his hand lying flat on your stomach, and pulled you closer to him. 

Azriel leaned in, whispering, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You won’t,” you replied, honestly. 

His eyes searched yours for a second before he nodded. You placed a hand on his chest, running your fingers over his leathers. “Aren’t these a little constricting?” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly. “I’m used to them.” 

You hummed, your eyes darting towards Lydia to see her watching the two of you. “Well, I much prefer you out of them, shadowsinger.” 

Your words had their desired effect. Azriel’s chest rumbled with a quiet growl, his hand caressing your waist. You giggled, pressing a few kisses to his jaw. His scent of cedar and night-chilled mist seemed to envelope you. He gripped your dress in his fist, his entire body tense. 

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered, lowly. “Anything.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

Azriel nudged his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His breath ghosted over your skin, causing goosebumps to spread. “Something real.”

You were never very forthcoming with your clients, always keeping your personal details secret and making up stories and lies to feed their curiosity. But something made you not want to lie to Azriel. 

“My name is Y/n,” you started, shifting closer to him so no one else could overhear anything said. His hand that was on your waist slipped to the exposed skin on your back, his fingers lazily trailing up and down. “I was born to a low-ranking noble and his bitch of a wife, my mother. I was going to be sold off like cattle to some Lord who had already gone through three wives—you can guess what happened to them—but my friend, the one you saw me with earlier, helped me escape.” 

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, pulling you flush against his hard chest. You melted into the heat of his body, the thin dress you had on did nothing to keep you warm. The hand that was on your back slipped to your thigh, parting your skirt so he could touch your smooth skin. Your heart jumped in your chest.

“Tell me their names,” Azriel growled into your ear. “Tell me their names and consider them gone.” 

You laughed, darkly, twisting your arm around his neck to stroke the hairs at his nape. “No need for that. They’ve been…taken care of.” 

Azriel’s other hand drifted up to your throat, grasping it lightly and tilting your head back so he could pepper his own kisses along your jaw and neck. Your breath hitched and you found yourself grinding down on him, gasping as you felt his hardening cock. Suddenly, none of this was pretend. Had it even been pretend in the first place? No…no, it hadn’t. You had been burning and burning for him since the night he had stepped into your room. 

“I’m sorry—” 

You turned to look at him and kissed him firmly before he could finish his sentence. He groaned as your lips met his and you pulled away entirely too soon, lingering only centimeters away. 

“I’m not,” you purred.

Whatever resolve Azriel seemed to have, whatever dignity of yours he was trying to preserve, all of it was forgotten in the moment. He lurched forward and kissed you again, his hand on your throat angling your head to his liking—the rings on his fingers were cold against your heated skin. You moaned at the feeling of his soft lips, at the taste of him. 

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you gave into the subtle request, parting your lips for him and deepening the kiss. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your thigh slipped dangerously close to the place between your legs that seemed to be begging for him. You’d never been so turned on in your life. The thrill of knowing eyes were on you and the feeling of Azriel consuming you caused your brain to numb all thoughts. 

His hand on your throat slipped down your side, his knuckles running along the side of your breast. You arched into his touch with a mewl and he answered with a small huff, his wings twitching. Meanwhile his tongue was still exploring every inch of your mouth, claiming you in a way that had you throbbing in his lap. 

Azriel pulled away, leaving you panting for air as he began to trail kisses down your jaw and neck again. His wandering hand landed flat against your stomach, pushing you farther into him until you were flush against his body, your legs falling open to either side of his thigh. Your half-opened eyes darted around the room. 

It seems Lydia had lost interest in the two of you but another set of eyes were on you. 

“The High Lord’s watching,” you murmured as he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth. 

“I don’t care,” Azriel growled, his mouth moving to nibble on the delicate skin of your throat.

“He’s not going to get mad that you're allowing yourself to be seen with Hewn City scum?” 

“Fuck him,” he snarled, biting down on your skin and causing you to gasp. He soothed the mark with his tongue before kissing his way up to your mouth again. “Stop talking about another male while you're sitting in my lap.” 

“Yes, sir,” you smirked before he kissed you again, his hips thrusting up into your backside. You groaned, your core rubbing against his thigh with his movement and causing a strike of lightning to flash through your body. The need for him was overwhelming. You’d never felt this way towards anyone. 

His hand drifted higher on your thigh, until his thumb traced the inner junction between your thigh and hip and felt the wetness that had started to spread there. A small whine came from the back of his throat that had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You pulled away from his kiss to stare up at him with lust filled eyes, his own full of hunger and craving. 

“Azriel?”

“Yes, angel?” 

“Get us out of here.” 

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice. His shadows engulfed the two of you and transported you to your room in The Labyrinth. You were on your knees before him not even a second later, overcome with the need to taste him, to touch him, to devour him whole. You pulled at the laces on his pants, your fingers working quickly. Azriel’s hand slipped into your hair, fisting your locks in between his fingers. 

“Angel, you don’t have to—”

“Azriel,” you cut him off, staring up at him with hazy eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Before he could reply, you yanked his pants down causing his large member to spring up, already hard and leaking. You nearly groaned at the sight. He was so big, so big and thick. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the head of his cock and he hissed, his fists tightening in your hair. 

You stared up at him as you took his cock in your hand and licked up his entire length. He let out a loud moan, tossing his head back at the pleasure. You smiled at the sight, your other hand sliding down your body between your legs, hoping to relieve some of the throbbing.

But Azriel growled and yanked your head back.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” Azriel commanded. “Only I get to touch you there.” 

If it had been any other male saying those words, you would’ve laughed in their face. But it coming out of Azriel’s mouth only made your throbbing intensify. You whined, but listened, grasping his cock with both hands and finally taking him in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” Azriel hissed, guiding your movement with his hand in your hair. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” 

Your thighs rubbed together at his praise and you continued to bob your head back and forth, swirling your tongue under his cock and running it along his veins. His hips began to thrust in time with your movement, his hand guiding you to take more and more of him in your mouth until he was fucking your face. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he moaned, thrusting into your mouth. “Good girl.” 

You choked, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. Normally you would hate a client treating you like this but with Azriel it felt different. Maybe because his rough taking of you was coupled with small words of praise and encouragement, urging you on.

“Just like that,” he groaned. “Fuck, angel, you look so pretty with your lips around my cock.” 

You whimpered, taking more of him until his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Your hands jerked the part of him you couldn’t take because of his unbelievable size. His groans and growls kept you going, kept the fire between your thighs burning. You needed him more than you needed air. 

Azriel yanked you away from his cock by your hair and you whined at the loss of contact. He pulled you up off the floor, his eyes nearly black with lust. “Take off your dress,” he ordered. 

You maintained eye contact with him as you quickly stripped yourself before him. The air around the two of you was intense, the need for one another so tangible. In this moment, you weren’t Serenity, the prostitute who worked here. But Y/n. The girl underneath the mask. 

“Get on the bed,” he demanded. “On your knees.” 

You scurried to the bed, doing as he asked. You were entirely exposed to him in this position, your arousal dripping down your leg. You could hear him taking off the rest of his leathers and waiting in anticipation until his hands fell on your hips, rubbing them softly. 

“Gods, you are so beautiful,” he murmured, one hand trailing up your back and gently moving your hair to one side so he could see your face. His cock rubbed against your folds, gathering your wetness. “Fuck and so ready for me.” 

“Azriel, please,” you begged. You could feel yourself gripping around nothing, needing to be filled by him and him only. 

“One day, I’m going to worship your entire body,” he grunted. “But I need you, angel. I need you right now.” 

“Please,” you begged again. “Take me. I’m yours.” 

Azriel slammed into you so quickly, it knocked the breath from your lungs. You moaned at the feel of him, at being stretched so thoroughly. He waited a moment, his breathing labored, allowing you to adjust before he slid back out and roughly thrust back in. 

“Say it again,” he growled, taking a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over again. 

You whimpered, “I’m yours.” 

“Again,” he snarled, his pounding into you causing the whole bed to shake. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intense pleasure. Your whole body was tingling at his touch, at his words. “I’m yours, Azriel. I’m yours.” 

One hand stayed on your hip to help keep you in place while the other slithered up your back and into your hair, fisting it again. He pulled your head back, exposing your neck as he drilled into you. Your back arched as you cried out at the feeling. You had already been so turned on, your orgasm was quickly building. 

“More,” you groaned. “More, Azriel, please.”

He growled and yanked you up by your hair, pulling your body flush against his. The new angle felt deeper, his cock brutally hitting you in that sweet spot that had you seeing stars. His hand traveled from your waist to your breasts, squeezing and caressing them. Your head fell back against his shoulder as your body arched into his touch. 

He released your hair to rub circles on your clit, leaving you both breathless and screaming. 

Your body was entirely his in this moment. He controlled every ounce of your pleasure, every cry that came from your lips. You had never reveled in giving yourself up like this before. Not until Azriel came. 

“Azriel…I’m gonna….I’m gonna,” you panted, the lewd noise of skin smacking together the only other sound in the room.  

“Be a good girl and cum for me angel,” he whispered, huskily, in your ear. 

His words pushed you over the edge and your orgasm slammed into you. Your entire body clenched around him as waves and waves of pleasure crested through you. Your vision went white hot with it. Azriel’s name fell from your lips like a Devil’s prayer. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, fucking you through your orgasm. Until you finally came down from your high, your body slumping in his hold. He let you fall to the soft bed, your face smashing against the cushions as he held you up by your hips. His rhythm became desperate, feral until he finally came, burying himself in you with a loud growl. 

You were both still panting as he slid out of you with a hiss and fell to the bed next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled your body on top of his, letting his wings stretch out. You laid a cheek on his chest, feeling safe as he wrapped both arms around you. 

“Don’t leave this time,” you whispered. 

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “I won’t.”

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Three days later, you were sitting in Lydia’s office, your nightgown covered in blood, a numb look on your face. Keir was standing before you, leaning against her desk with his arms crossed as he sneered down at you. 

The burning on your ring finger was lingering, one of the tally marks gone. 

“Lydia tells me that the shadowsinger has taken a special interest in you,” Keir said, stroking his jaw. Your eyes remained distant, staring past him to the wall. 

The blood was still warm on your skin and you knew the body lying in your bed hadn’t even stiffened. You knew better than to talk during these meetings, allowing Keir and Lydia to converse with each other while you sat there. 

“Show me your hand,” Keir ordered. 

You lifted your arm, holding it outstretched to him. He took it, twisting it to see your ring finger.

“She only has one mark left, my Lord,” Lydia added from behind her desk. 

“I see that,” Keir said, letting your hand drop. “Your last target is the shadowsinger. Kill him and you will have completed our bargain and will be free to go.” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your eyes going wide as you finally looked at the male standing above you. “W-what?” 

“You heard me, girl,” he snarled. “Kill the shadowsinger and you’re free to go.”

Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. 

Keir’s words played in your head over and over again as you made your way to the bathing chambers to finally wash the blood of your latest target off you. 

Kill Azriel and you’d finally be free to leave this place. Finally free to take all the money you’d been saving up and leave this damned court to build a new life for yourself. The dream you’d had all along. Kill Azriel and your dream of being free would finally come true. 

Kill Azriel.   

Kill Azriel or…don’t and end up stuck here, lost in The Labyrinth forever. 

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[mister-mickey]

Word of god

(This is going to be a VERY long post so buckle up)

Word of god is a phrase used in fandom that refers to something that the author of the source material has said, but was never confirmed in the source material. Because it was never confirmed in the original material, it isn’t considered canon. However, word of god is basically the next step down from canon.

This means that while you can choose to ignore it, you can also choose to accept it.

In the outsiders fandom, there are certain “word of god” type things floating around. Think soda going to Vietnam (and then that being retconned) or Johnny’s legal name being John. Even Dallas being scared of spiders, of crying after he read little women, of Steve enjoying wearing women’s underwear (?).

These are all examples of word of god. They were not mentioned in the outsiders book, but they are all things S.E Hinton has said on her twitter and in other places.

I’m only sharing the definition because what a lot of people never seem to talk about (possibly because they don’t know or because they don’t know how to access it) is S.E Hinton’s fanfiction. I think a lot of people would enjoy learning about some of the other things S.E Hinton has said about the characters. (Keep in mind, on her ffn account, she claims to not be S.E Hinton, but using the details she’s shared about her fanfiction in interviews, it’s pretty obvious that this is her account)

Just keep in mind, none of this is canon unless you personally want it to be. Don’t harass other people for accepting or not accepting any of this as canon. Fandom is supposed to be fun, and that includes letting other people make their own personal spaces and headcanons.

I’m going to share all of her outsiders fics here (as in, I’m going to link them so others can read them too) and then I’m going to share every detail that I noticed. If you read them and notice things I missed or didn’t talk about, PLEASE REBLOG WITH THOSE THINGS!

First fic- The Haircut, published in 2008. This takes place after their parents die but there is no mention of Johnny or Dallas, so it could be before or after their deaths

- Pony cuts his brothers’ hair (or at least Soda’s) probably because they can’t afford a professional haircut

- Either pony is really bad at it (possible, as seen in the book with Johnny) or Soda is incredibly dramatic

- Darry checks pony’s homework

- Pony is not great at math but does well in English, however he still misspells things (which makes the fact that he judges sodas spelling or grammar in the letter soda sent in the outsiders very funny)

- Soda is likely very forgetful (he forgot that he left the iron on and burnt a hole on his work uniform)

- This is something we could have figured out anyway because of the time period, but it’s implied that their mother would have been the one cutting their hair and ironing their clothes.

Second fic- The first Christmas After, published in 2008 (shortly before Christmas too, on December 14) this takes place after their parent’s death and after Johnny and Dally’s death.

- The Curtis brothers are willing to forgo tradition in order to save money (Darry says they agreed on no Christmas tree and mentioned avoiding getting a turkey for thanksgiving, even though they ended up getting one anyway because Darry’s job gave it to them)

- Soda apparently is not actually a decent cook. People like to headcanon that his cooking tastes okay and just looks funny or tastes a bit too sweet, but apparently soda seriously fucked up the turkey.

- Twobit is willing to eat gross stuff (he ate the turkey and darry jokes twobit would willingly eat cat shit)

- The Christmas tree is also free, like the turkey. Soda got it at work. I guess the Curtis brothers are pretty lucky, or they have jobs that kind of care about them (wild idea)

- I think this was mentioned in the book, but Darry is very casual about drinking. He grabs a beer after work.

- The real reason Darry didn’t want a tree is because he knows it’ll be upsetting to do christmassy stuff without their parents.

- Darry will shove his feelings down to try and make the holidays enjoyable for his brothers

- Steve has a mother who is active in his life. This is crazy to me because everyone just kind of assumed he didn’t have a mother. I will continue to deny her existence though lol

- Steve’s mother cares enough about the Curtis boys to send Steve over with some fudge.

- The Curtis brothers have their own ornaments. Soda’s is a car colored like a candy cane, Darry’s is a reindeer holding a football, and pony’s is an elf reading a book. The ornaments were from their father.

- There’s a joke that I think I’m not catching? I think it’s twobit saying that he called a girl a ho, but it might be innocent? I’m not the best with tone. He’s making a Santa Claus joke

- Twobit likes eggnog (gross) and shares it with soda. The eggnog has whiskey in it, which is what gets Steve interested in drinking it.

- The Curtis brothers had a dog named bowser, who also had an ornament. Bowser was a present for Darry’s fourth birthday. Darry assumed he was the only one that remembered bowser, but soda claims to remember him too. I guess this means bowser died when soda was very little. Possibly before pony or when pony was a baby.

- A lot of the Christmas ornaments are crafts that the Curtis boys made at school. (Aww) Darry and soda grew up faster than Ponyboy did, apparently pony was willing to do kid stuff longer than they were (they stopped wanting to make crafts by middle school but pony did them even after) Darry thinks it’s because their mom wanted to keep her baby a baby.

- The boy’s personalities show in the ornaments they made, Darry’s are well structured and planned, but with zero imagination. Sodas are sloppy and not great, but hold character. Pony’s are said to be eye catching and imaginative.

- Pony is supposed to call Darry from a pay phone if he realizes he’s going to be late for curfew. Pretty solid rule, I think

- Mr. Curtis wasn’t actually better at understanding people than Darry is. The main difference seems to be Mr. Curtis’s patience in dealing with people he doesn’t understand. Darry compares himself to his dad

- Their mother and father also have ornaments! Their mother is an Angel playing the piano (considering the other ornaments, we can assume their mother knew how to play piano) and their dad’s is a Santa going fishing (I guess he liked to fish)

- This is basically canon anyway, but pony was too skinny and frail after Johnny and dally died

- Soda is lactose intolerant. This does not stop him from consuming lactose. He is kind and sleeps on the couch when he does so that pony doesn’t have to listen to him farting all night (disgusting)

- Darry understands soda even if soda doesn’t say anything. So I guess Darry not understanding pony isn’t because pony is quiet and doesn’t tell him anything

- They have ornaments for Johnny and dally. Johnny’s is a little dark haired Angel singing a hymn, and Dally’s is a little devil with wings and a halo with an evil smirk.

- Johnny doesn’t like cutesy things. He is a greaser, he’s still tough. They all decide that Johnny and Dallas would like if they saw their ornaments.

- Joking about Johnny and dally makes the gang a little happier. Even after death, they bully Dallas a bit because they miss him (the hang him at the top of the tree 😭💔 and they giggle about looking up his ornaments skirt)

- Dallas would allegedly have set fire to the tree if he was there and saw them doing that

- Steve has a bunch of cousins in Muskogee Oklahoma, as well as an Uncle Bob

- Twobit’s sister is named Bren. Twobit is close with his grandmother and is visiting her for Christmas. He is going to give her whiskey for her present because his mom doesn’t let her have it.

- Soda likes to attack his brothers with tickles

The third fic- The Drive North, published in 2007. This is the longest fic, and it’s an au. I have several disclaimers I think I should make before I talk about it.

Disclaimer one- this is a Wild West au, it takes place in the late 1860s. Because it’s an au, there are some things that don’t really translate to canon. I will be sharing things that are canon to this fic, and maybe expanding how I think they’d fit into canon, but just remember, they do not fit perfectly

Disclaimer two- some of the things changed directly contradict canon. Several of the characters go by different names, some of them even have the wrong ages (I originally assumed everyone was the same age as in canon, but then mason and Tex from Tex showed up and they were ten years older than everyone else which doesn’t make sense because Tex takes place in the 70s and they should be younger than the gang), and some of the characters have pretty different back stories (the Shepard siblings are orphans in this and they’re being raised by their grandfather. This contradicts canon because in That was then, this is now, they are said to have their mother and a stepfather)

Name changes

- Steve is called pistol

- Angela is called Angelique

- Twobit is called Two bits, and his real make was changed from Keith to Eugene.

- Dallas is called White snake, which leads me to my next, and the most important, disclaimer

Disclaimer three- there is a lot of racism in this fic. Mostly weird Native American representation. This mostly comes from Dallas and Tim, but basically dallas is a white child that was kidnapped by native Americans and was then raised by them. Tim’s parents were killed by native Americans (which is of course a thing that happened back then, but I don’t think it’s written very well) These are common racist tropes, and I think it would do people good to be aware of that if they choose to read this fic.

There is also a few brief references to slavery and the civil war, and off the top of my head, I don’t think any of the characters were particularly against slavery. So if you want to read this, be aware of that so you don’t get caught off guard. There’s also a few slurs/incredibly outdated terms

I think thats the end of the disclaimers, if anyone else thinks of something I should add, tell me. I think this fic is an interesting look into the characters, but I don’t want people going in blind and unaware of the negative aspects of this fic

- The Shepard’s grandpa is named Philippe Shepard (Shepard is spelled different several times through the story, so is Philippe) he is fairly well off, I don’t think he’s rich, but he is successful. He has a Spanish gelding which is a fancy horse. Darry is jealous of him. Philippe is a former Texas ranger and he is very strict and good at bossing people around

- The Curtis brothers are doing a cattle drive under Philippe’s supervision. He’s their boss basically

- Soda’s real name is actually Patrick in this, and “Soda” is short for Sodacrackers because he likes hardtack.

- Everyone loves soda. Just looking at him makes people feel good

- Pony was a solemn baby that liked to study his surroundings. He was only silly when he was around horses, which is where he got the nickname Ponyboy. (His real name is Michael)

- Pony and soda are uncannily good with horses, which is why Philippe Shepard hired the Curtis brothers. Darry seems to really admire Philippe actually, he doesn’t shut up about that old man

- Curly Shepard is described as a hot-head, who doesn’t seem particularly skilled because he’s riding drag. This is the worst position to take because the dust gets kicked up at you. Curly was very upset about getting that position

- The Curtis parents died at different times in this. Their mother seems to have died of some sort of sickness because her death is described as “lingering”. Their dad went off to war (the civil war, on the confederate side. This does not make me fond of Mr. Curtis) when Darry was fifteen.

- Philippe Shepard does not support slavery. He also seems to have an anti-war stance. At least for himself. He says he won’t get his head blown off so people can own slaves. Philippe Shepard fought against the Mexicans and the Comanche at some point, and has enough experience with war to know he doesn’t like it

- Ponyboy has a paint pony

- Pony cried after he said good bye to the lake (the Curtis brothers are leaving their house for good) because he spent a lot of time at the lake. Darry seems embarrassed of him for that

- Pony wears soda’s hand me downs, but they still don’t fit him because he’s scrawny.

- Pony is tough physically, but incredibly emotional

- Soda has a chestnut mustang horse

- The Curtis brothers will be relatively well off after the drive. Darry plans on sending Pony to a school so he can put his book smarts to use and live in a society where that stuff matters

- The first chapter is repeated twice lmfaooo

- Two bit does not like Philippe. Philippe also uses flattery to get his way lol

- Twobit is the cook, which I guess means in canon he could be a decent cook too. He learned how to cook from his mom

- Mr Shepard is in love with Twobits mom 😭

- Mr Shepard also uses his money to get his way

- Twobit’s sister is named Lizzy in this one. Either he has a shit ton of sisters, or his one sister does not have a decided name

- Mr Shepard does not approve of ms Mathews babying Twobit. His eye twitches when she says he’s “just a boy”

- The Curtis brothers are said to have sold their eggs to make money

- Johnnys name is John, and he’s named after his father. So he’s John jr. He’s also called “little John Cade” 😭😭❤️❤️ and he’s going to be twobit’s assistant

- Dallas is their scout/interpreter. Original when I read this, I thought Dallas was actually Native American and I thought that was interesting. But no, he’s just a White guy that was raised that way. I think native Dallas would be very cool to see though, becuase I hate the trope of white people being raised by native Americans instead of people just writing native Americans

- Twobit is lazy. He doesn’t like getting up early or walking

- Mr Shepard does NOT think twobit is funny. I think he might actually hate him

- Mr Shepard spanks his grandkids and he makes sure to tell everyone. He also seems fully willing to spank other peoples kids too (he threatens twobit) He is very strict with his grandkids. He says he uses a quirt, I looked that up and it looks scary

- Mr Shepard is genuinely mean asf, and he seriously doesn’t like twobit oh my god

- Mr Shepard is seriously down bad for ms Mathews. He hates twobits dad 😭 he even calls the dude worthless

- Twobit’s dad was a sweet talking drummer who only stayed around long enough to give her kids

- Philippe has dark eyes and white hair

- Philippe was present when twobit got the nickname twobit. I think twobit isn’t particularly proud of his nickname.

- People don’t seem to like Dallas. I’m not talking other people, even the gang seems kind of uncomfortable around him. Also the gang isn’t a gang. I don’t think they’re necessarily even friends here.

- Curly is confirmed to be just a nickname. His real name is not shared

- Twobit got his nickname when he was ten. Instead of it meaning that he has a big mouth and will give his “two bits” to any conversation, it means that he’s so useless that you wouldn’t give “even two bits for him”. The twobit lovers can feast on any angst that provides. It explains why he doesn’t like his nickname in this

- Twobit’s little sister worships him and his mother adores him

- Another reference to Mr Shepard having a big old crush on Twobit’s mom 😭 this point is really being driven home, and it takes twobit a while to realize. He is horrified when he dies and almost drops a barrel on Johnny 😭

- Jesus Christ Philippe won’t stop threatening people. He says “every pound lost is money out of my pocket, and I catch anyone taking money out of my pocket there's going to be an inch off his hide.” Which curly confirmed is true and not just a phrase.

- Pony doesn’t give a fuck about cows. He calls them meat on hooves 😭

- Pony, pre fic, never liked going into town and didn’t like people. I don’t think he’s friends with Johnny (yet)

- Darry likes talking to people and sharing his opinions. He’s respected in their town

- Pony doesn’t think he’ll ever grow as big as Darry or soda. I find this interesting because I always just assumed he was small because he was younger.

- Pony prefers animals to people

- Pony likes to watch people instead of talk to them. This is already kind of canon, but it’s funny to hear him talk about it

- Darry has to ride big horses because he’s a big boy. It’s also implied that he’s still growing?! Apparently he’s still filling out into his frame. How fucking big is he going to get jfc

- Soda likes pretty horses, but he’s smart enough to pick horses based off of their speed

- Steve and curly both like hot (I’m assuming wild) horses. The difference is Steve can handle it, curly can’t. Curly got thrown off his horse 😭

- Tim and his grandpa both ride the fancy Spanish horses. They’re very pretty but pony feels tired just looking at them because of how jittery they are. But they never get tired

- Tim and his grandpa are long boned? I think this means tall? Or maybe they have long limbs lol. They’re also said to be heavy muscled. I don’t know if that contradicts Tim’s description in the outsiders, where he’s described as lean. I don’t know if heavy muscled means bulky, but it feels like it would? Tim can be lean and still muscular but the way it’s written makes him sound pretty different from the book

- Curly is convinced that he’s going to have one of the fancy horses one day, but Tim and Mr Shepard think he’s stupid for thinking that. So I guess he probably won’t. In their family, you have to earn a fancy horse, and curly hasn’t earned one yet

- Dallas rides a white horse that he stole.

- Buck Merrill is the sheriff? I find that very interesting because he was just a party guy in the outsiders

- Dallas is wearing a breechcloth, but sometimes wears pants. He also wears eagle feathers and face paint. I don’t know if that means anything. He is said to be Comanche (or at least associated with them)

- Dallas cut off Johnnys dad’s ear and wears it on his belt as a trophy. He did this because Johnnys dad was beating Johnny, so I guess they’re still close in this fic

- Everyone can sense Tim and Dally’s tension (it’s not sexual, it’s worse) and they are placing bets on who will fight who first

- Steve claims Dallas grabbed a creature off the ground and ate its head off

- Dallas has a sweet tooth

- Dallas only really talks to Johnny

- Johnnys dad is a blacksmith, and he’s huge.

- Twobit is a gossip, he makes sure he knows ALL the goings on. Every day he takes a one hour walk across the town to see everything

- Johnnys dad is suspected to have hearing loss and a bad temper

- Johnny got his scar from his dad back handing him with a hoof file (this is the event that caused Dallas to cut Mr cades ear off)

- Ever since then, Johnny has had less bruises

- The younger people on the job get to have more sleep 🥺 tim and darry work early in the morning and late at night because of that

- Angela snuck along 😭 she wants to be treated like Tim and curly so she has been following them for the past few days. Mr Shepard is PISSED

- Mr Shepard’s scoldings have caused tears among many people, including Angela

- Mr Shepard CARRIES THE QUIRT AROUND to to threaten people

- Angela is just as good at riding and shooting as curly but not as good as Tim.

- Angela was meant to stay home and have sewing lessons while her family did the cattle drive

- Angela either dislikes doing girly things like sewing, or she just prefers doing horse stuff. I can’t tell if she’s meant to be a tomboy, which I feel doesn’t necessarily fit with her character in twttin, or if she just thinks sewing lessons are boring.

- Dallas knew Angela was sneaking around, which means he is sneakier than Angela Shepard.

- Mr Shepard would 100% beat Dally’s ass which is notable because so far he’s respected Dallas a lot as an adult. He’s very upset that Dallas knew Angela was there and didn’t say anything

- Tim and curly are said to play pranks on angela which is why she’s so sneaky and suspicious

- Dallas cut off a piece of Angela’s hair. This is strange to me because he didn’t have a reason to do that? In the fic he uses it to prove that he was watching her, but how was he supposed to know he needed to prove that? Why did he cut a lock of her hair? Freak

- Dallas calls Angela a scrawny prairie chicken? So I guess she’s small and skinny.

- Tim ends up being the one to start a fight between him and Dallas

- I think Dallas enjoys making Tim angry enough to start the fights. It makes sense to me tbh, it’s very funny and I think it fits with canon. Dallas slashed Tim’s tires in the book, and I guess he did that to get his attention

- Tim is racist, and this plays a part in his hatred for Dallas. It’s apparently because his parents were killed by native Americans, but Mr Shepard says that he needs to stfu because Dallas had nothing to do with that.

- Dally’s real family had a terrible fate and I think they were killed in either the same raid that killed Tim’s parents, or another one close to that one.

- The Shepards mom’s name is Antoinette and she had a fate worse than death. I say this because Mr Shepard says he wished he was there to put a bullet in her head to spare her from what happened to her. He doesn’t say what happened, but I guess it was pretty awful.

- Tim likes to punch and grapple, Dallas likes to dodge and kick

- They aren’t friends of any sort like in the book, there’s no “cut from the same cloth” here

- Curly, soda, and Steve would have been cheering and whooping if they’d been present, but they’re elsewhere at this time

- Pony and his brothers fight sometimes, but they usually give up pretty quick because Darry gets embarrassed fighting with teenagers, soda starts laughing, and pony will start crying out of frustration

- TIM PULLED A GUN ON DALLAS

- Curly almost shot his toe off practicing his fast draw, which led Mr Shepard to ban it 😭

- Tim, his siblings, and Dallas were all very young when their parents died. No specific age is given, but Philippe says they were all very little

- Philippe is their paternal grandfather (obviously) but he saw their mother as his own daughter and apparently she was very egg beautiful. He seems more sad about her death than his own son’s death

- Tim has an impressive fast draw

- Mr Shepard defends Dallas against Tim and says that he needs to cool it with the anti-native American talk. He says he understands why they’re all mad white people are in their lands. This doesn’t stop him from taking the land though.

- Angela is now riding drag as punishment so curly gets promoted I guess.

- Twobit exaggerates stories and Tim clips them too short. Pony is the best storyteller

- Pony doesn’t know what a “sporting woman” (a prostitute) does until soda explains it

- Pony understands sex, he just doesn’t understand why anyone would ever have it for fun lmfao

- Steve got his ass beat by his dad for wasting his wages on prostitutes 😭 I guess his dad does get physical with him

- Pony says if Steve knew half as much as he thought he did, he’d be the most valuable person on earth 😭

- Pony thinks sex is gross and begs soda not to have sex (soda refuses and says he’s gonna do what he wants)

- Darry really enjoys not being in charge. He likes that Philippe is in charge because then he isn’t responsible for his brothers. He hates babysitting and pretends not to see pony nonverbally begging him to come with him into town so he isn’t alone

- Mr Shepard calls pony and Johnny the youngest, but I know that in the outsiders curly is fifteen, so he’s in between them. Either curly is a different age in this fic, or Mr Shepard doesn’t see him as an individual person (which now that I’m typing that out, I think that’s probably the case)

- Johnny doesn’t like lots of people. As in crowds

- Darry makes pony and soda take at least one bath a month. Stinky boys

- I think pony and Johnny have become friends now, they’re naturally drawn to each other

- Pony yelps runs away from a prostitute because she talked to him? I don’t think the situation called for that? He seemed genuinely terrified and Johnny just followed him

- Neither of them know what the clap is, Johnny thinks they were going to “get clapped” 😭

- Pony likes cats but can’t have one because the coyotes will eat it (very sad, one of my cats got eaten by a coyote ☹️)

- Pony cries when he’s scared

- Twobit won thirty dollars playing a game (he told the people he’d give them a chance to win it back the next day, while knowing that he wouldn’t be there the next day 😭) that’s about 700 dollars today

- Steve tries to look cool in front of soda omgg

- Steve also seems jealous of how naturally cool soda is. He’s upset with himself for being jittery around the prostitutes when soda is so calm and charming

- Steve has a mustache 😒 he grew it out to look older and he fiddles with it subconsciously

- Soda is insecure about “just being charming and handsome” because it isn’t something he had to work for

- Soda immediately started venting to the prostitute ?

- Soda immediately talked about marriage with this prostitute, he hasn’t even done anything with her and he’s already in love with her

- He gave her his entire wage… he gave her TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS and told her to wait for him oh my god

- He saw her flirting with other guys and immediately thought about KILLING HER what the fuck

- THE OTHER GUYS WERE TIM AND DARRY!!

- They were described as tall cowboys so I guess that’s means Tim and Darry are both tall

- Philippe is sick of these teenagers. They all spent their money on dumb shit and he’s judging them hardcore

- Tim and Darry have become best friends at some point, they keep giggling with each other

- Curly gave himself alcohol poisoning the second he had access to alcohol which is kind of funny to me. Either he’s a serious drunk or he’s so inexperienced with alcohol that he die at know what a limit is. I don’t drink at all so I don’t know which makes more sense. I’m leaning towards the second one because of the way he’s characterized in this fic

- Steve gets mad when soda is sad, not mad at soda, just mad in general

- Tim and Darry became bffs because they ROBBED A POKER GAME WITH GUNS! ARMED ROBBERY! They did this to save twobit from being fired after twobit spent money that wasn’t his, which is kind of sweet of them.

- Curly is sad because he was trying to get the guys to enter a brothel (part of the reason he was drinking so much) and got so drunk that he woke up in an alleyway with all his money gone 😭. He laid in rant alley for a day and a half before Tim came and found him 😢 (my stupid son)

- Soda is embarrassed about falling in love with the first woman he saw

- Steve is mad all the time, and soda doesn’t understand how he does it. Soda finds anger exhausting

- Tex and mason are very… ?? Again, they’re ten years older than the gang, instead of ten years younger. They’re both bearded and wild. They live in the middle of nowhere and say that god has abandoned them. Tex says he shot mason to make him shut up

- Nobody has been sick yet except curly, so they have plenty of medical stuff

- Johnny compares Dallas to a knight in this (instead of a gallant soldier in the book)

- Tex says he shot mason because mason gave him a bad cup of coffee. They’re very strange

- Curly broke his pinky finger oh my god (I have to be honest and say everything curly does makes me giggle because he does so much stupid stuff. My baby broke his pinky 😭😭😭❤️❤️)

- Steve cracked his tail bone when his horse escaped, and Darry got bad rope burn

- Philippe likes Sodapop. He does think soda is tiring though

- Tim values the adoration and hero worship from curly and Angela to be too mean to them. He pretends to be indifferent to them, which fools everyone except Philippe (awww)

- Tex and mason are crazy, they talk so much trash and they’re so mean to each other. It gives everyone else a shock

- Angela has a crush on Tex, who is supposed to be around 24 ish. Tex has no plans on doing anything with her thank god

- Angela wanted to be a tomboy because boys got more attention, but now that she desires boys attention, she acts more feminine. This is masons insight because Angela starts acting sweet and precious the second she starts liking tex

- Tex became friends with everyone within a few days of them joining

- Curly is good enough at roping to teach Tex how to do it. It’s nice seeing him be good at something

- Tex took herding lessons from Tim and Darry

- Darry and soda mess with pony enough for him to be suspicious when people tell him things

- Dallas keeps doing things to piss Tim off (he whacked him in the head with a stick and rode off on his horse before Tim could do anything)

- Tim “doesn’t find anything humorous in anything white snake (Dallas) does” and is very grumpy when Dallas does something to make people laugh

- The story ends on a cliffhanger but that’s it

Anyway, take what you want from these fics as canon and disregard anything you don’t want lol

[canisalbus]

It's probably fair to say that, as a child, Machete's goal was to just survive. Even as a young adult, survival obviously remained a principle goal.

But slowly, over time, he gained power, and is now a cardinal. He no longer struggles to fend off death (weakened constitution notwithstanding.) He probably still sees himself as trying to survive day-to-day, but clearly it becomes more than that, even if he's not fully cognizant of it.

I guess what I'm wondering is, besides "survival", what are Machete's goals? As a cardinal or otherwise. What prevents him from leaving or resigning his post? Does he have aspirations other than Vasco? Does he see himself as subservient to God, or is it something else?

I'd say his aspirations are pretty mundane. Security and stability are probably the biggest priorities overall, financially and health-wise. He doesn't thrive in unreliable and unpredictable surroundings. The fact that he knows he will have his basic needs met for the foreseeable future, there are people ready to prepare him a warm bath at a moment's notice, a reputable doctor to look after him, and armed guards that are never too far away, eases his mind considerably. A large part of his work revolves around routine, carefully crafted plans and immutable etiquette, with relatively few unpleasant surprises. He's so high in the hierarchy that very few people can treat him disrespectfully and get away with it.

He wants to prove that he's capable, competent and useful. His deeply rooted inferiority complex (that largely stems from the demeaning and belittling way his mentor treated him when he was his apprentice) has made him a lifelong overachiever, which in turn has served him well in his career. He's ambitious and driven but I wouldn't call him power-hungry in an egoistical way, he can come across as overbearing but it's because he's a perfectionist control freak who's obsessed with doing his job well and has a tendency to think most people around him aren't up to the task. He isn't in it for fame and wealth in itself, it's more about having a purpose that makes you worthy of respect.

On a more personal level he's passionate about reading, studying and learning. Partly because he's inquisitive and genuinely enjoys it, knows he's good at it and feels good about being good at it, but also because he wants to be the most learned, most cultured and most academic person in the room. Not necessarily for bragging rights, but to feel like being smart will always keep him one step ahead of the others and that way no one can pull the rug from under his feet.

He would never be able to afford the things he wears and the luxuries he has access to if his life hadn't taken the exact turns it did. He spent his early childhood in a monastery and was trained by a priest who valued asceticism and self-denial so he didn't have a lot of nice things growing up. Now as a high ranking church official he has more spending money than he could've imagined, and while he has an expensive taste, he oftentimes fails to enjoy the benefits of his status properly. He has a comfortable home with a massive bed, but it's not uncommon for him to sleep in his office or forgo rest completely. Even though he could be savoring the rarest most complex dishes every day, there aren't a lot of foods he likes eating. He would like to look pretty but even his outlandishly costly and carefully tailored silk garments can't redeem the fact he doesn't feel comfortable in his skin.

He can't resign because his sense of self-worth and lifestyle are tied to his job. It's the one thing he's demonstrably skilled at. He's worked himself to the bone to get where he is now and the prospect of losing it is simply unfathomable. He doesn't have ties to his biological family and his friends are few and far between, if he gave up his position he'd have functionally no one to rely on but Vasco. On top of that he does feel like he owes his life to the church and serving it to his best ability is his lot in life. His state of faith and relationship with God is complicated at best but he's nonetheless terrified of what might happen and how he might be punished if he ever chose to abandon his post.

[soft-boi-eli]

Sylus x cane user reader

Tw. Not proof read. You scare sylus. You do fall but you good.

Ok sylus is definitely will take care of you. No ands ifs or buts. He has the money and the power.

And even though people view you as a nuisance or a faker because your so young he seea you as one of the most powerful people he met.

Hes just like you mean you go through this shit, the pain, the comments, and even the harassment and you are still living dispite all of it. He fuckin respects you.

His house is now accessible completely. He had stairs yes but now there is an elevator. Nothing is put too low or too high the shelves up high were too high for you to reach anyways.

The bathroom? Theres a built in shower chair with a second shower head for easy reach, cant have you falling. Also mephisto is always with you. Be it in his house, in the bathroom, anywhere he is there. Cant have you hurting yourself.

Im rambling. Uhmm uhh. Here a scenario that has happened. Warning you do fall. Your ok with a new big bruise on you booty but ok. Sylus is however very overwhelmingly concerned.

You wanted a shower and apprently that was a crime of your body. Today you were doing ok. The pain was minimal and you trusted yourself. It was a day of stupid mistakes. And your dumbass decided to forgo the built in shower chair. You call yourself a dumbass for a reason. In the middle of you rinsing your hair out your leg gives out. The loud thud was heard through the base. And you just sat there, more stunned then hurt. You landed ass first onto the river rock floor.

And you sat there blinking and digesting what had happened. However you didnt have long to take it in because the door was opened violently. And in came your hulking boyfriend. He hadnt even turned off the shower. He was in there with you soaking his expensive clothes. Looking over you for broken bones. And to top everything off with a cherry and bow you had started your period. The scent of blood had him fretting more and more. "Sylus. SYLUS!" His eyes landed onto yours. And your hands went to his face. "Im ok. Im on my period and i fell. My ego and butt may be briused but im ok." He was quick to bundle you in one of his black towels and help you slip on a pair of underwear. "Well kitten you are going to have to let me determine if you are fully ok."

He had carried you to the bed, he didnt care for his sopping wet clothes, setting you down with your cane next to the bed. He had stripped off his wet shirt, pants, and left only his boxers.

He had flipped you to lay on your stomach, gently running his hands over your back feeling every bone and each muscle. He stopped when his hand reached your lower back and hip. He looked into ypur eyes waiting for your nod before he gently pulled your undies down to expose your butt. The area red and a small amount of purple already exposed itself.

His fingers were soft and his lips gently met with the bruised flesh. "Sylus! Dont kiss my butt cheek!" He looked up meeting your firey gaze. His ruby eyes glinted with a bit of humor. Sprinkling more gentle kisses over the flesh. His hands were just a suggestion on him holding your hips. His heart lighten at the giggles that escaped you. The thought of you in pain faded.

"My kitten is definitely not broken. But there is quite a bit of a bruise there." He rested his face into the small of your back. Having pulled up the fabric of your panties. His breath soft against your skin. His wet hair left water drops everywhere.

"My big bad dragon oh so scared over a small fall." He stared into your eyes a glare. "Kitten. It sounded like you fell and broke everything in the shower. Luke and kerian heard it from the garage." Your face flushed. Embarressment flooded you as your face found home in a pillow. He slowly ran his hands up your back, fingers swirling and lossening knots of muscle.

"Now kitten. When you shower i would feel comfortable if i showered with you for a little bit." With his fingers breaking any tension in your body you could only hum in agreeance. "Even if that means i have to strap you to that damn chair kitten. Its installed there for you." His voice went stern. "I felt good today. I thought i could stand." He places a kiss to your shoulder blade. "I know kitten but sometimes even if you feel like you're able to it might be safest to just use the aide." You pouted at him. Anger slightly sparking. "I dont mean tjat you cant shower or do things without them. I just think its safer." He slowly pressed his body onto yours hands now back to holding your hips.

"Sylus! Your heavy!" He hummed as his body slowly relaxed letting your body get use to it. "Sorry kitten. You scared me and now i want to be as close as i can." Your eyes soften, all anger you had was gone. You werent alone here. You forgot that. If you had a fall at your apartment it was just you and finding if you were ok yourself. But here? With sylus. You had other people that would worry or get scared.

His face was nuzzled into your neck, so leaning your head onto his was easy. "Sorry sy. Use to livin alone." He hums arms now wrapped around your waist. "I know kitten. I dont blame you though." You let your body relax under his weight. You knew he was scared for you. You knew he cared so much. And he knew that you being stubborn and wanted to do things your way was something that he loved about you. He would never change you or even want to. Even if it seemed you were able to scare him to death most of the time.

[tigerpeachs]

Business or Pleasure - Okkotsu Yuuta

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, fem reader, pet name usage, sex worker, pwp, dub-con (just to be safe), transactional sex, cum shot, choking, shoe licking, fingering, alcohol consumption, oral sex (male receiving), praise, slapping, shoving, tw: assault, scummy yuuta

-`ღ´- wc: 5.6K

-`ღ´- a/n: ya know - I totally skipped over one Yuuta project to flesh this out, but here’s to hoping the other one comes soon as well. also this is my first time trying something like this so hopefully it came out well! if you have any request or comments, my inbox is open  ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_ 

-`ღ´- synopsis: You receive an odd request as a sex worker from a mysterious client. When a large sum of money is provided for your services, you decide to play along, even when things aren’t in your favor. 

It was uncomfortable. You felt uncomfortable. There was something different about this meeting. You were used to sex work and selling yourself. It all came easier to you than the rat race others put themselves through. There were people miserable from working a 9-5, going home to their empty homes, and barely living their useless lives. You didn’t want that. You adjusted your dress and rocked your feet in your high heels, looking up at the elevator numbers change. 

Top floor, penthouse level. You knew the man must be professional from the way he requested you. First, you were sent an NDA before you were even given access to who the client was. You were still allowed to decline if you decided to forgo seeing the client. Once you sent your signature back, which had to be approved by a notary, you received a care package and an invitation to meet your new client along with some instructions. 

Hair must be styled, fresh professional makeup, waxed, shaved, oiled, and moisturized skin. You were to wear a clean-scented perfume, a fresh set of nails, and a tight black dress with red bottom heels. You accessorized with pearls, a black clutch, and a long wool coat. Everything else before this felt like practice. The attempts to look pretty, finding the most flattering dresses, saving up for pretty shoes, and soothing yourself by taking care of your body. 

As the number got closer to the top floor, you pressed your shoulders down and back, then straightened up your posture. You chewed at your bottom lip slightly before the door opened. There was an older gentleman standing before you. He wore a suit and had perfect posture. His hair was greying and his skin was loose, letting you get a read that he must be in his late 60s. 

You began to wonder if this was the person who you’d soon be working for. Not that you haven’t done it before, but you’d rather not sleep with older men again. There were too many awkward silences as they rutted a softening cock against your entrance. 

“Right this way ma’am.” He spoke, leading the way down a lit hallway. You both stopped at a door and he placed his arm out. You looked at him inquisitively before realizing you were still wrapped in your coat. You smiled and thanked him, taking off the material. You felt a chill fall on your exposed back which lacked the warmth from your black dress. He stood in the same position and looked down at your clutch purse. You closed your eyes, smiling one more time; rather more at your stupidity than his kindness, and gave him your bag as well. 

“Please enter the room and wait for the head of the house and me to return.” He departed before you could acknowledge what he said. You walked into the room with the release of a tight sigh. You immediately took in your surroundings in order to become more acclimated.  There was a large table with two chairs, one on each end. There was low lighting and no apparent area of the lightbulbs location. You grabbed a seat and raised your eyebrows as you sunk in. The level of comfort it provided made you want to slouch and drape yourself over the material. How does one make wood feel soft?

Minutes ticked by and you grew bored of the room you were kept in. That thought of slouching from earlier became more delightful as time passed. Your head drifted as you sat. What might you have for dinner tonight? When was your nail tech available again? Maybe you should finish that book on your nightstand that seems to be collecting dust bunnies from neglect. Your mind drifted to worse places. Although the wait was long, it couldn't be worse than some of your previous clients.

Worst case scenario, you were about to be brutally murdered. Though, with this line of work consisting of mostly male clients, that meant there was always the possibility of assault, rape, or worse. Neutral scenario, the client might be into some shady stuff and just wants to have some fun on the side. Best case scenario? Maybe retiring for life and never having to look at your bank account again. Yeah. That sounds pretty good. 

Your daydreaming was cut short by the rustling of the doorknob. You sat up again, back erect, shoulders back, neck straight, with your chest perked up. Your hands remained on your lap instead of the table and you sucked in a slow easy breath. Your eyes glossed over as you got ready to perform. 

“My Apologies, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long.” You looked over to see…a young man in front of the elder gentleman from before. If you were shocked, you didn’t show it. He was handsome with an almost playful and youthful flare to him. He wore a suit as well with the tie slightly undone. A few buttons were already opened up and his hair was out of place. 

He walked over and eased a hand over his hairline, pushing it back and fixing his side part - almost as if he could feel you analyzing him. 

“No need to apologize. I assure you, it wasn’t long at all.” You were intentional with your words. Although it wasn’t long, it was still a wait. 

As he got closer his scent hit you. Warm and sweet. Something with an amber flare that danced across your senses. His natural scent still came through. It entered your nasal cavity and spread through you like a shot of whiskey. You could almost taste him even from his professional proximity. You stood as he reached his hand out to shake yours. You made sure to apply the same pressure and he gave you a charming smile.

“Yes, well then. Thank you for your patience.” You knew he was trying to get a read on you as well. His eyes quickly did a once-over. The only thing that caught his attention was the mess up of your lipsticks. A mark from your restless teeth during your arrival. Nerves getting the best of you took away from the prestige you tried to showcase for him. 

“Is there anything I can get you?” He questioned as he moved to take his seat “Perhaps a drink?” He sat down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he interlaced his fingers. His pace was smooth and his voice soft. Yet his presence was still demanding. It left a sense of unease in the room. 

“No, thank you.” You spoke. He nodded at you but spoke his next words to the older gentleman standing by the door.

“Glenlivet Winchester, neat, please.” He moved after acknowledging the young man’s words, “Oh, and water, please. Just in case she’s parched during our meeting.” The older gentlemen paused.

“Yes, right away Sir.” 

He left the room and all the attention was back on you.

The man smiled again, “My apologies, I never gave you my name. Okkotsu Yuuta. Although I’m sure you read the paperwork, you know what to address me by right?” He paused and gave you a moment to prove him right. You did read the paperwork. You memorized every line to secure the opportunity in front of you.

“Yes, Sir. That is correct.” He wanted a clean woman who was obedient in every sense of the word. He wanted you to listen to him. It wasn’t uncommon for CEOs, presidents, lawyers, doctors. They all either really liked control or being under control. 

He sighed with relief, sitting back. He seemed happy. Pleased with himself to have you across from him. His hands smoothed across his thighs, fixing any wrinkles in the material of his slacks. His leg bounced slightly with excitement. You didn’t say a word, waiting for him to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry if I seem improper. I’m just so…” His eyes landed on you again and it felt different this time. His gaze darkened, the polite smile before becoming a condescending smirk. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of what was about to become a reality. Yes, he did his research to find the right type of woman for this. He was happy to see your polished and pristine appearance. Not a hair out of place on your head. But more so, he admired how vigorous you seemed. Your body language, your handshake, hell even your tone was unassailable. 

Yuuta loved money. Very much. But if there was anything he loved more, it was seeing what money did to people. How powerless they became over it. How powerless would you become for it?

“...So excited,” He finished.

The older gentlemen from before came back in with various items. There were fat cigars, a straight cutter, an ashtray, a gold-encrusted liter, two glasses, and a pitcher of water. 

He moves to open the bottle of scotch but your client stops him. 

“Have you served before?” You nod your head, knowing what must be coming next. Yuuta gave the older man a look of dismissal, leading him to walk out the door.  

“C’mere,” He smiles, beckoning you towards him, “Pour me a drink, Sweetheart.” You stood up and walked over to him. He didn’t pay you any mind, opting to cut open one end of his cigar. Your hands smoothed over the bottle and then you twisted the top off. You grabbed the old-fashioned glass as you listened to the wheel of his liter spin. Once. twice. Then a flame sparked on the third attempt. 

Pulling a few puffs through, he relaxed in his seat, leaning back and letting his head fall over the top of the chair. His neck, long and elegant, strained as he pressed the smoke out of his lungs, letting it dissipate above him. He hummed in contentment before pulling his gaze back up to you. You poured him a perfect serving. Two fingers worth. You held it out to him. He gripped your wrist, making you jump slightly from his speed and strength. Your skin burned under his hold. 

He kept his eyes on you as he brought your hand to his mouth. 

You knew better than to look away. His gaze told you everything you needed to know. Keep. Your eyes. On. Him. He sipped from the glass, once, twice before releasing your hand. You shifted your weight on your heels, holding the glass closer to you as your joints ached. He sits properly on his throne and offers to take your hand. You set the glass down and place your hand in his. He spreads his legs a little bit.

“Take a seat for me,” You didn’t have to guess that this show of dominance and your submission did something to him. You could tell from the strain of his pants that he liked playing this game with you. You liked playing games too. 

You stood between his legs as the start of his little competition began. You opt to sit on one leg and drape your legs across the other, knowing it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. You crossed your legs and rested one hand on his chest, the other draped across his shoulders. He grabbed at your waist whilst holding his cigar in his mouth. The expensive smell of his cologne was washed out by thick ringlets of smoke. He removed his smoke for a second.

“Grab the glass for me, baby.” 

You did as you were told, leaning over, slightly out of his embrace. When you returned he took another sip, making you hold the glass for him. Although you knew he was somewhat fit, the seat you took changed your perception of him completely. While you saw a skinny man, his suit worked well to hide the heavy expanse of muscle underneath it. His fingers skimmed across your hip, making your body trust his touch. 

“You listen very well.” He starts to talk. “I like that about you.”

You remained silent following his cues for another sip of alcohol. His hand came up to toy with the shoulder strap of your dress. This moment felt slow, as though you both were moving through molasses. His eyes ran over you, and he took a tentative touch to your collarbone. He pulled you in a bit closer and you did your best to remain still. Sitting pretty. Like a well-trained dog. 

He dragged his nose across your neck, inhaling your scent and groaning in approval. The sound he made caused you to press your thighs together. Thoughts of eliciting that noise out of him again cluttered your mind.

Yuuta felt hungry. His hand dropped to your hip, palming it with excitement. You smelled raw and sweet. It was like a mix of vanilla and brandy. He couldn’t help but press his lips against your neck in a wet kiss, moving up slightly to nip at your jawline. You felt a wave of desire run through you, causing your hands to become unsteady. You retaliate by tightening your hold around the glass and adjusting yourself to press against his erection. 

“Mmm, you taste damn good,” He groans against your skin. You could feel his arousal, heavy against you. You arched your back, enjoying the compliment, and quickly discovered the accumulation of arousal in between your thighs. His hands felt rougher, the drink in your hand rippled as he hitched the fabric of your dress up. Your panties were already damp from his light teasing and he was soon to find that out if he kept inching his fingers up. 

“Too bad you’re just some trashy prostitute.” 

Your rushed hands slammed against his chest, and you quickly moved out of his lap in the process. The scotch fell from your hands, spilling over the rim and onto your client. His cigar ashed out from the process, falling onto his expensive slacks. You swallowed hard as he stared down at the mess you made on him. The glass remained on the floor beneath the two of you. Cracked - just like the facade between you both. 

The room is suffocating in silence and time seems frozen. 

His eyes stayed down for a minute.

Or a few.

Right as you open your mouth, he takes a stand and tsks in disapproval. The cigar drops into the ashtray and he swipes across his slacks to get rid of the ash. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t come out of the fabric well. Yuuta grabbed at your elbow to position you well. He takes one large deep breath. 

A sting spreads across your face. His large hands push roughly at your shoulders, forcing you down so fast that your knees slam against the floor. The sharp pain makes you cry as you hunch over trying to comfort yourself quickly. Yuuta smooths his hair back once more before taking a seat again. He sighs out of exhaustion before taking a look at you. You’re still bowed over, registering the fact that he struck you.

“Hey,” He says plainly.

You look up at him with disdain. No. Disgust. 

He tilts his head at the look and then gives a sweet laugh. He views your pout as comical. Sort of like when a child throws a tantrum or a dog is upset at its owner. He leans towards you and his finger slides under your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“I paid a lot of money for you. I know you’ve been in this line of work for a while and you promote yourself well.” He tilts your head to look at the red mark across your cheek. He whistles at the sight, thinking maybe he was a little too heavy-handed on his brand-new toy. He still wanted you to look presentable after all. “You’re a good businesswoman, right? You come up with your end of the deal typically and men, like me, find that admirable. Girls like you work really hard don’t they?” He forced you to nod before letting go of your chin.

He sits back up, creating distance between the two of you. 

“You can always leave if you want,” He takes his eyes off of you, looking unamused with the thought. He gives you a moment as if it was the respectable thing to do. As if you could pass up a payout like this. While tears brimmed your eyes, you mentally reminded yourself of that. 

“Or,” He drags his eyes back to you and smiles politely. He knows your answer already. It was apparent in the sick look on his face. “Can you be a respectable partner? Do you want another chance to be my good girl?” He leans in a bit, resting his forearms against his thighs.

You knew what he was thinking. 

And that's what made you feel so pathetic when you said -

“Yes, Sir.” In a broken tone. 

His smile grows before he sits up. He grabbed your face with the same brute strength he used before. Although it hurt, he smoothed his hand over the mark on your cheek, gently touching the skin and leaving a burning sensation in its wake. The look in his eyes was tender, endearing, and loving.  

His touch didn’t stop. He slipped a hand under your chin again, holding you in place. The other moved to your mouth, where he pressed his thumb against the seam of your lips. You slowly opened up, allowing him to violate the new expanse of skin. He didn’t have a look of arousal on his face. It was more inquisitive. Like he was examining you with care. 

He dragged his fingers across your gums and against your teeth. He stretched your mouth out before he slid his fingers down your throat. You tensed as you suspend your gag, curious if he would prefer for you to fight the intrusion a little instead. He doesn’t switch his body language up to showcase what he wants. Instead, he runs his thumb across your lips once more, impressed that your lipstick doesn’t smudge. 

“Stand for me,” You didn’t bother verbally responding, only raising up on shaky legs in front of him. He warms up to your obedient nature, leaning back a little as he pulls you forward just a step. 

“That’s my good girl, you’re being so sweet for me.” He sucks at the finger that was just inside your mouth, sending a chill down your exposed spine. 

“Strip for me. Keep your undergarments on.” He sat back more and started to relax in the chair. He didn’t bother watching as you stripped. The dress fell smoothly off your skin as he decided to glance at his wristwatch.

He put his hand up, curling his fingers towards him in a beckoning motion. You step out of the dress, moving towards him. You notice that he grabs at his cock, possibly to adjust himself or maybe to alleviate his erection. He tightened his jaw as he concentrated on your form. You were beautiful. Warm skin and a voluptuous body. Prim and proper. Sweet and ripe for his taking. His eyes glazed over in admiration of such a woman. He could jerk himself off in a matter of seconds from watching you. The thought entertains him, but Yuuta was never greedy. He could hold out for something better. 

He grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him. His hands skimmed over the thin fabric of your underwear, skimming over your sex. His fingers dragged down your thighs and took in the expanse of your skin. He put some weight against one palm, and lightened the other, making you turn in his hold. 

Your back faced him. You wish you could see him but you elected to keep your posture facing away from him. Again his hands skimmed and examined your frame. Light touches pressed against your skin as he felt your spine. He skimmed at the dip of your back, petting over the area as images of you bent over, struggling to take him filled his mind. 

You felt his face come near, the hair from his head slightly tickling your lower back. His hands found their familiar place on your hips once more. He couldn’t control himself.

There was no verbal instruction. Instead, you felt his hands bend your forward. You made sure to fold your body over for him, sticking out your ass, waiting to feel his hands explore your frame once more. But he found what he was looking for. You're soaked. The fabric stuck to your cunt, a silhouette of it forming through beautiful threads of fabric.

His touch didn’t come. 

He cleared his throat, unable to look away from the sight in front of him. 

“Stand up straight for me,” He instructs, leaning back. You slowly raise and you peak at him over your shoulder. He’s covering the bottom part of his face, his unnerving smile gone, and his eyes flit over your frame, landing on your expensive pussy covered by a pathetic excuse for underwear. His mind is still on the place between your thighs. 

“Drop to your knees for me,” He says, rubbing his hands together, working to soothe himself. You do as you are told. You drop down and look back at him, giving slow blinks to him. He wraps a hand around the back of your head. You follow his lead as he pulls you forward. You brace yourself against his knees but continue to follow his motion. 

Your cheek meets his upper thigh, laying against his hard-on. You can feel how big the mass is through the thick fabric of his dress pants. You take a deep breath as he reaches over you, dragging his fingers from the bottom of your spine upwards. 

Once they catch over the latch of your bra, he lightly prods at the fabric. You exhale as he undoes the garment. The lacey piece falls from your skin, your breast chilled from the air in the room. Yuuta pulls the piece off the rest of the way before allowing you to lean back. 

You sat pretty for him.

He smiled at you. You smiled gently back this time. Possibly from his warmth. 

Possibly from his uneasy nature.  

He lifts his shoe towards you. You look down, noticing an amber liquid lightly spread across the leather of his dress shoes. He doesn’t bother playing into your confused nature. Instead, he places the shoe across the warmth of your chest, right over your sternum, and presses in slightly. 

“Be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” 

Silence filled the room once more. 

You didn’t have to do this. You could get up and leave. You looked over to the table to see if any napkins were present. There weren’t. You assumed he wouldn’t be happy if you used your dress or bra to wipe his shoes clean. You looked up at him once more, uncertain. 

He frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“C'mon, lick it up.” You felt frozen in time. That's disgusting. Foul. You don’t know where his feet have been this whole time or how long he’s worn these shoes. You stare at the amber liquid once more and he gets impatient. He grinds the balls of his feet into your chest, annoyed. 

You grip at his ankle to alleviate the pressure. If you thought his hands felt heavy, the weight of his foot was unfathomable. It felt like he was crushing your ribs. You had to press into the ground just to stay upright underneath his dirty shoe. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale through your nose. The money. That large sum of money could easily keep you from doing work like this again for a while. Plus, you supposed you’ve licked worse…

Yuuta smiled as you pulled his shoe closer to your mouth. You ran your tongue across the rich leather, the scotch mixing with the unique earthy flavor. You made sure to suck it up, just as you did your ego. You gazed up at your client, his eyes were hazy and his mouth hung open slightly. You noticed a slight movement from his hand and dropped your eyes to see him palming himself. 

After sucking up each drop of scotch, the man leaned over. You held the liquid in your mouth as he pulled your head closer from the nape of your neck. 

“Don’t swallow yet,” He instructs and you listen. You brace your hands on your thighs, intimidated by his lustful gaze. He leans in more and pulls you in as well. His lips press against yours with hunger and urgency. You moan into the kiss, opening yourself up to him. His tongue pursues yours, and he suckles around it, taking the scotch and grime off his shoe into his mouth. You expect that to be it. Just a kiss for his game. He didn’t relent. His mouth was bruising and demanding. It was a message. You wouldn’t win against him. 

You gasp as he pulls away, seeing such a serious look on his face.

He hums in approval. His thumb slides across your spit-slicked lips for a moment before he grasps at your chin. He pulls you closer and you follow his lead. Your face is close to his again. 

“Can you be a smart girl for me?” He asks before leaning back. He doesn’t bother waiting for your response. Only one glance down at his erection and you understood what he meant. Your hands slide up the expanse of his thighs, skimming over his cock. He jumps lightly at the touch, forcing his gaze back to you. You meet his eyes, expert hands undoing his belt without a single glance away. He chuckles lightly at that and grabs at the cigar on the table. 

You ease your hands into his slacks. Gentle touches, slow moves, teasing in every sense of the word. You tug his pants down just enough for the outline of his cock to no longer be trapped beneath it. There’s a slight light coming from the cherry of his cigar, helping you see the precum that's left a wet mark on his briefs. 

Before removing his underwear you lean over him and press your lips right against his covered tip. He stalls, watching you with his interest piqued. You suck gently at his leaky tip, savoring the taste of him. You had to admit… it tasted better than most of the cum you’ve swallowed down. He pulls gently at your hair and you come up only to take his underwear off. 

His cock slapped against his button-up, his swollen head leaving a bead of cum on the expensive cotton. He watched intently as you took him in. His cock was pretty in every sense of the word. It was flushed pink at the tip, with a base a bit more tan than his milky skin tone. The veins running down his shaft were thick and continued around his pelvis. He curved upwards slightly and once you grabbed at it, it felt warm and heavy in your hands. Most importantly, it was big. 

You got into a proper position, letting your back arch as you leaned forward. One hand braced yourself in between your folded legs and the other led his tip against your lips. He didn’t bother speaking, but you could tell he was excited from the way he scooted his hips forward in his chair. You pressed open-mouth kisses to the underside of his tip, getting the sensitive area wet. 

You can hear him inhale the smoke right as you open your mouth more, letting the head of his cock slip in. Both hands rested against the ground now as you leaned forward, taking more of him inside of you. You suckled around the skin, moaning slightly as you pulled back. Soft breaths fell from his lips as you got into a rhythm. He felt heavy on your tongue. Your jaw ached from the weight and stretch of trying to accommodate him. 

You persisted in taking all of him, flattening your tongue and sucking more of him down. It hurts. A lot. Your nose finally touched the hairs against his pelvis. You purposely clenched your throat around his shaft causing him to grip at your hair. A broken moan fell from his lips that made your arousal feel heavy. The cigar was long forgotten as he used both hands to lead you up and down his dick. 

You kept the pace he set, only breaking it to hold all of him inside you again. Once more, you tightened your throat while licking at his balls. His moans were broken by a slight laugh. He dropped his hands and allowed you to play with him as you pleased. You moved back to his tip, sucking harshly before licking his full length and mouthing at his base. 

You couldn’t help but feel smug at the look on his face. He was ruined. His hair was a mess, the shirt he wore had more buttons undone. And the drunk look on his face told you everything you needed to know. You brought one of your hands up to stroke him and sucked at the under seam of his tip. He shut his eyes, restraining himself. It was too much. Feeling the pressure you forced out of him along with seeing your angelic figure pleasuring it. It made you happy to see him working so hard against you.

You tightened the grip on your stroke and sucked just a little harder causing his hips to stutter. You moved to take his whole cock in again but he moved faster. He grabs at your shoulder and forces you back. Your grip was replaced by his and you watched as he rutted his cock into his hand. More moans fell from his sweet lips as he watched you. 

Swollen lips and tear-brimmed eyes. Your chest heaved and your skin was wet from his precum and your drool. He liked seeing you ruined beneath him. He liked the mark he left on you. He liked seeing you be his mess. The thought of having you again and again and again plagued him. The images flashed before him as his cum shot out across your tits.

Warm cum dripped across your collarbones and breast. It mixed in with the previous mess you made from sucking his cock. The sight was absolutely vile and yet, both of you couldn’t get enough.

Your break was short-lived. 

Yuuta immediately grabs at you before laying you across the table. You try to sit up on your elbows at the very least, but he pushes you back down, shaking all the materials on the surface from his force. 

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, laying his still-hard cock across your pantie-clad cunt. 

“Look at what you do to me,” You don't have to look through. You can feel him. You can feel the heavy weight of his cock prodding at your lower lips. You can feel the sticky drip of his cum still easing out his tip. You can feel how slick he is against your pelvis.  And you wanted to feel him more. 

While you’re anticipating the thought of what that delicious stretch inside you would feel like, Yuuta collects some of the cum across your breast and rushes to press it in your mouth. You don’t hesitate to take his offer. You slide your tongue across his digits as he pumps them in and out of your mouth. His cock jumps at the feeling, tensing with the need to be inside you. 

You’re being so good for him. You take every drop he gives you and you’re looking up at him like you're thankful to be here with him. Thankful to have his cum on your lips. 

And he smiles. 

It touches his eyes for once. 

“Atta girl.” His eyes drop, taking in your naked frame once more. He ruts his cock against your slick-covered folds one last time, squeezing at your hip to control himself. “Thank you for this.” He leans back, tucking himself away.

He helps you sit up and slowly move off the table. 

“Get dressed, then please help yourself to any refreshments.” 

He then walks out without a word to you. 

You slowly get dressed and the moment you straighten yourself up completely there was a knock at the door. You didn’t bother saying come in, instead, the older gentlemen from before walked in. He doesn’t say a word to you. He holds out your coat, purse, and a special envelope. Once placed in your hands you could tell it was filled with unmarked dollar bills. 

You’re led back to the elevator and descend to your normal life.

A few weeks pass by. Life was good. There was no need to schedule new appointments due to the surplus of money Yuuta provided you. You lay across your couch wondering what you could possibly do with your day. There was a new café in town you could try. Or maybe you could hit the farmers market and take a walk into the city. Just go with the ebb and flow of life for a little while. A knock interrupts your daydreaming forcing you to sit up. 

You didn’t dare to answer the door right away since you weren’t expecting any guests. A chill ran over your body as you thought of who it might possibly be. You slowly moved towards your door and listened to hear if anyone was out there. Once the coast was clear you creaked open the door slightly. You look around, not seeing anything until you gaze downward. There stood a letter. In the same envelope.

 The same type of special envelope you recalled receiving from your last client.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

They're forgoing links now

Okay, first of all, I'm pretty sure I've seen "Hala" at least one other time in my inbox if not more.

Second, now that there's not even links for vets in inbox requests (and I do allow media in my inbox questions), I feel safe in saying that 90-ghost was likely always one of the scam ringleaders in this whole "prove you're better than others by giving unblinkingly to deeply questionable but totally "vetted" gofundmes!!!" mess.

If you have clear proof that 90-ghost was/is NOT a scammer (and I am talking actual evidence like one could use to prove I was defaming said person), please correct me. But honestly, I never saw an inbox ask with that name on it that didn't stink of scam. Because they were all in my inbox. Swearing up and down I could trust them because this person and several other of the same names over and over had totally vetted them with real vetting techniques that I literally could never find an explanation of.

Also, regarding the others who I think were ringleaders on this same part of the scam with 90-ghost, the names escape me. Although someone, when I made an intentionally vague post about how there were ABSOLUTELY scammers in the Pro-Palestine tags getting people to give up money without thinking because emotional kneejerk reactions are just human slot levers, someone reblogged and named one of the people I was thinking about who I DID NOT NAME. And they repeatedly vouched for 90-ghost and vice-versa.

BTW, 90-ghost is still posting, as I have just discovered, and I have decided I am standing by everything I've said here because, frankly, I have smelled a scam since day one. Because it was always this guy and the other handful who were ALWAYS "vetting" until people went, "Um, you know what? It seems like scams are getting through and that's bad, so could you get us more transparency?" And then one of the people in the associated circle went, "Oh, wow, by total coincidence, I have to stop vetting for awhile." And another went, "I can't possibly keep explaining how these scammers are scamming even though I've been doing just fine at it until we seem to have hit the scam I'm running," and 90-ghost is still posting completely unsubstantiated and random gofundmes while also still having his pinned post be from 2024 and how he can't get funds from gofundme, so why would he promote a platform that is clearly difficult to access for Gazans if he is, himself, a Gazan? He can't be the only one getting his funds frozen.

Anyway, he's as scammer, and my anon is turned off because of other scammers, so if you wanna call me names or tell me to kill myself, you're gonna have to actually face the consequences of putting your name on your actions.

Also, give to charitable organizations but also fuck the Red Cross for its part in the performance art fuckery of Hamas making a fucking parade of handing over coffins. Which is a war crime under the UN's own rules, not that the UN is aware of that if they don't want to be aware of it.

Free Palestine from Hamas. Free Israel from Antisemitism. Free people in need from scamming fuckshits.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lisa Needham at Public Notice:

Earlier this week, The Onion’s bid to buy Alex Jones’s Infowars fell apart in a manner that was as perplexing as it was depressing. At the same time, Elon Musk was attacking a Chancery Court judge who ruled he couldn’t have his absurdly bloated Tesla pay package of $56 billion. These cases aren’t just similar because they involve two of the more repugnant people in the current media landscape. They’re also both symptoms of a judicial system that is in no way able to deal with right-wingers who have access to mountains of cash and rabid followers they can sic on judges. Back in November, The Onion — also known as “America’s Finest News Source” — won a bankruptcy auction for Infowars and announced a plan to turn it into a “very funny, very stupid” website instead of the misinformation and vitriol-filled hellscape it was under Jones. Infowars was on the auction block because Jones owed the families of victims of the 2012 Sandy Hook shooting nearly $1.5 billion in default judgments for his relentless promotion of the conspiracy theory that the shooting was staged by “crisis actors.”

Rather than pay, Jones filed bankruptcy for three of his shell companies, trying to force the Sandy Hook plaintiffs to accept $10 million, or roughly 0.6 percent of what they were awarded. He then dragged the families through bankruptcy court for two years — after having spent three years fighting the initial lawsuits — but was ultimately required to sell Infowars and other assets via bankruptcy auction to satisfy creditors.

Enter The Onion, whose bid was undertaken with the cooperation of the Sandy Hook families. The Onion’s cash bid of $1.75 million was less than the cash offered by the only other bidder, First United American Companies (FUAC), which bid $3.5 million. Normally, a bankruptcy trustee would be required to accept the highest bid because the job of a trustee is to maximize the recovery for creditors. Here, though, things were more complex than simply awarding Infowars to the highest bidder. First, the Sandy Hook families agreed to forgo some of the damages they were entitled to as a way to increase the value of The Onion’s bid. Additionally, the other bidder, FUAC, is the company that runs Jones’s grifty online supplement store. But neither of these things seemed to matter to US Bankruptcy Judge Christopher Lopez, who on Tuesday threw out The Onion’s bid, saying the auction left money on the table for the families and that the bankruptcy trustee was required to “scratch and claw and get everything you can for them.”

With this, Lopez essentially told families who backed The Onion deal that they couldn’t have the deal they wanted. Instead, they may be forced to accept Jones’s weird and complicated sham deal where he gets to sell to a friendly party he’s already affiliated with, one that almost certainly would allow Jones to continue operating Infowars. If this seems the very opposite of fair and a terrible result for families Jones has victimized, that’s because it is. Lopez’s decision leaves the families in the limbo they’ve been in for years, particularly because he declined to actually rule. Instead, he said he didn’t want another auction and told the bankruptcy trustee to return in 30 days with a plan. It’s a triumph of form over function, of procedural niceties over actual fairness. Now, the question is how much more the families can endure. They spent years being attacked by Jones and his listeners, followed by years of litigation. Besides the fight in bankruptcy court, Jones is also appealing the underlying judgments themselves, saying his free speech rights were violated. Earlier this month, a Connecticut appellate court upheld most of the verdict against Jones, but he’s vowed to take that to the state supreme court. Despite declaring bankruptcy and whining that he’s broke, Jones seems to have ample funds available to weaponize the courts against the families. All the while, Jones has complained that the cases were rigged against him and called the Connecticut judge a tyrant. During the Texas case, another Infowars host showed a picture of that judge in flames.

[...] Delaware Chancery Court Chancellor Kathaleen St. J. McCormick has now twice ruled against Musk, leading Musk to go on X and accuse her of “absolute corruption” and to call her “totally crazy” and a “radical far left activist cosplaying as a judge.” Musk’s fans have joined in, calling her insane. Several dozen law professors and lawyers have asked the Delaware State Bar Association to defend McCormick, in part because the Delaware Judges’ Code of Judicial Conduct prohibits her from speaking out about the attacks. In the future, Musk likely won’t have to deal with McCormick anyway. He’s reincorporated both Tesla and SpaceX in Texas. That state has a new business court with judges appointed by GOP Gov. Greg Abbott and will likely be highly favorable to Musk.

Trump helped normalize attacks on judges

Deep pockets have allowed both Jones and Musk to drag out cases and to go scorched earth against any opponents they face. To be fair, that’s always been the case for rich litigants. But the constant attacks on judges that rule against them — attacks that seem to come with no real consequences — are a product of the Donald Trump era. It isn’t just that Trump was able to exploit the weaknesses in the judicial system for long enough to win the 2024 election, a victory that all but ensures he will never suffer any consequences for his actions, no matter how criminal. It’s also that Trump ushered in a new age and created a permission structure where any adverse ruling from a judge is grounds for personal attacks and cries of corruption.

MAGA influencers Alex Jones and Elon Musk, along with right-wing big money, have intimidated courts with threats and caused supporters to join along.

[asinglemagpie]

The Golden Raven: Here Be Spoilers 10 (Once More With Feeling)(Chapter 22)

Oof those were some heavy chapters... Now I'm well rested, let's dive into more!

Why didn't they flop on anyone's couches? Rhemann would have taken them in, surely!

Can we start a fund to order some takeout from a very specific restaurant? Neil knows the one.

When your therapist helps get access to money... you gotta admit sometime that you're in so shitty a situation that they would risk their career to help you even the smallest bit.

Okay look. Thea is a touchy subject from what I've seen, especially regarding Kevin, so I'll be brief. She and Kevin should not have happened - she was far too old and he far too young. But. We have to remember that the Nest ran on its own twisted set of rules and morality, and nothing they did was outside of the lines that they had been bullied and tortured into. I do not think they are good for each other. Kevin needs someone to be more than exy with. Someone who can knock him down a few pegs and then hold his hand as they rebuild him into something better. Thea is what he needed, but now she holds him rigidly in place when he should be blossoming.

That said, she sounds hot AF and I'd stick around too so...

The fact that Kevin is letting himself be annoyed with a camera in his face? The interview either broke him from being "I must have a perfect public persona", or shit going on that we're not privvy to yet has gnawed through him and this is what he's got left.

AARON DRIVING THE MAS MEANS MORE TO ME THAN I CAN EXPRESS OKAY?! 😭

It never gets old calling Kevin "Queen" (always capitalised).

Andrew showing signs of taking to heart what Jean said is also INSANE. Like... He's forgoing one of the significantly few things he finds comfort and calm in because he won't risk being too slow to save Neil? I... I just... 😭

How does their relationship even work anyway? They never see each other, I doubt they call each other because they don't seem the type. Just... ???

Thea's harsh AF but totally correct statement. Honestly she has to be scary as fuck and again I'm not entirely against that...

Kevin and the moment of "well I can't fix that".

Spader also being incredibly correct. Sadly the Ravens do NOT have access to adequate mental healthcare.

The fact that the FBI know who started the fire, but Laila's family doesn't sits weirdly with me. I can't decide if I'm misunderstanding, or if Nora is frantically waving a red flag.

William is still one of my favourites.

Warren however can choke on a whole bag of thorny dicks.

In a just universe, a recording of that conversation would have fucking ruined the Wilshires. Alas there is no just universe and skinbags of anal leakage like this cunt get away with this shit.

Jean getting to truly own something of his own choosing 😍

Honestly I'm 50/50 on the "are they suicides or murders?" purely because Ichirou wouldn't draw eyes onto the Ravens, and by extension the Moriyama name, by just bumping them off. There would have been a couple of tragic accidents, people got rattled and performed badly, pushing some to that point, but it would be so much... Less. Than how it's going down. BUT those three going in such quick succession - when there's been days for what Thea said to sink in - just seems... Too coincidental. Hella fucking sloppy though. Like suspiciously sloppy. Are we sure it's Ichirou we should be looking at? Or any Moriyama at all?

Laila taking her life in her hands riding pillion 😂

Jean quietly absorbing everything he can about a Jeremy he doesn't know.

Jean openly choosing a path where there are no Ravens is just... Everything.

Kevin isn't a Raven. He's fine on a technicality.

Jeremy thinking he's taking it out of context when he's very much in the right context lol.

[darkmaga-returns]

More USAID Fraud? Zelensky is ready to resign. Conservatives win German elections. US looking to extend hostage deal’s current phase. Trump calls Trudeau ‘a loser’. NEW: RFK Plans at HHS

Lioness of Judah Ministry

Feb 24, 2025

More USAID Fraud? Billions Of US Tax Dollars Are Missing From Haiti Relief Projects

If only 2% of the $4.4 billion allotted for Haitian relief was actually used in Haiti, where did the rest of the money go...?

There are those that say all government aid is a scam in one way or another, and so far the revelations surrounding USAID are proving those people right daily. Democrats and the establishment media, in a bid to muddy the waters and save face, continue to claim that there was never any fraud at USAID and that the Trump Administration is simply labeling projects they "disagree with" as suspect. Of course, spending American tax dollars on projects the public never asked for and were never told about is the epitome of fraud, and waste is never a good thing. Beyond that, the question of billions in missing funds certainly falls into the category of criminality.

USAID’s role uncovered in ‘regime change’ in South Asian nation

$21 million allotted for Indian elections recently cited by Donald Trump was actually meant for Bangladesh, new report claims

The $21 million in American taxpayer money earmarked for “voter turnout in India,” which was recently canceled by Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) was actually allocated to Bangladesh, according to an investigative report published by The Indian Express on Friday. The media outlet claimed it had gained access to the funding records and learned that the allocation had been made by USAID in 2022, with $13.4 million already disbursed for “political and civic engagement” among students before the January 2024 elections in Bangladesh. Bangladeshi Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina was forced to resign in August following massive student-led protests that left hundreds dead.

WATCH: Shocking Video Captures American Airlines Flight AA292 Escorted by Fighter Jets to Rome Amid Security Threat

A transatlantic American Airlines flight with 199 passengers aboard was forced to divert to Rome on Sunday following a “possible security issue,” leading to a dramatic military escort by fighter jets, as captured in shocking video footage circulating online.

American Airlines Flight 292, which departed from John F. Kennedy International Airport (JFK) in New York, was originally bound for Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, India, according to Time of India. However, in mid-flight, the aircraft was suddenly rerouted to Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport in Rome. American Airlines said in a statement to ABC News that the flight was diverted due to a “possible security issue.” Multiple news media reported that there was a bomb threat.

BREAKING: Trump Names Dan Bongino as Deputy FBI Director

President Donald Trump announced on Truth Social that Dan Bongino has been tapped as the next Deputy Director of the FBI under Kash Patel, whom Trump has called the “best ever” pick for Director.

Bongino, a former NYPD officer and Secret Service agent, holds a master’s degree in psychology from CUNY and an MBA from Penn State. He later became a prominent conservative commentator and one of the country’s most successful podcasters—a role he’s willing to forgo to take on the position. Trump emphasized that Bongino, Patel, and newly appointed U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi will work to restore “Fairness, Justice, Law and Order” in America. The move signals a dramatic shift for the FBI, which has faced mounting criticism for political bias in recent years.

FBI Director Kash Patel Will Also be Named as Acting Head of the ATF

FBI Director Kash Patel has reportedly been chosen by President Donald Trump to also serve as the acting head of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF).

Unnamed sources confirmed the pick to both NewsNation and Fox News on Saturday evening. The news that Patel had been chosen to run the ATF came just one day after he had been sworn in to run the FBI. Fox News reports, “Former FBI Director Christopher Wray resigned at the end of former President Biden’s term, and Attorney General Pam Bondi fired the ATF general counsel, Pamela Hicks, on Thursday.”

[starstruckbyacomet]

Body positivity takes backseat as fashion houses pick skinnier models

There are several interesting points in the article which caught my eyes:

1)) As Ozempic and its counterparts become more commercially available for aesthetic purposes, it has pushed the body positivity movement to the backseat.

Enrika, a 28-year-old plus-size UK-based model. Source: Instagram.

2)) Enrika, a 28-year-old plus-size model, told the BBC that brands sometimes often use tactics in campaigns to virtue-signal being inclusive - such as highlighting stretch marks on plus-sized models, whilst airbrushing them on others. She said: "It sends the message that 'We don't actually think you look as good as the slim models in our skirt. But we accept you because we are such kind-hearted good people, so please give us your hard-earned money', it's nasty work and I don't support it."

Shaun Beyen, casting director for Fursac. Source: Knack Weekend.

3)) Shaun Beyen, casting director for iconic French brand Fursac, told the BBC: "The only motivation for a brand is to sell clothes - that's it. I don't think we need to lie about this. Brands adopted body positivity in the 2010s because in part they saw it as a commercial opportunity, and when they saw it was no longer performing as they would hope in 2020, they hopped off."

Gauthier Borsarello, Fursac's creative director. Source: Yahoo.

4)) Beyen added: "Full transparency - I don't really want to see clothes on someone like me. I want to see it on somebody I aspire to look like." Gauthier Borsarello, Fursac's creative director, laughed in agreement and said: "I hate my body. I don't want to see clothes on people like me."

5)) If you want change, change your buying habits. At least, that's what Shaun Beyen, believes: "Everything is consumer-driven. It's this kind of vicious circle. Every fashion house gives their version of what they know the customer wants, it's their interpretation and it's up to the consumer." Gauthier Borsarello said: "There's a famous French saying: 'If people stop producing, people will stop buying.' But the inverse is true. If people stop buying, we stop producing. No-one is forcing you to do anything. It's an education of the customer: In a polite way - educate yourself."

************

Left: Shaun Beyen, casting director for Fursac. Source: Getty Image. Right: Gauthier Borsarello, Fursac's creative director. Source: Fursac.

As the casting director and creative directors of Fursac, Shaun Beyen and Gauthier Borsarello surely have enough money to afford Ozempic and its counterparts. As you can see in the above pictures, they also have achieved what most people think as the ideal body-shape, a.k.a. not overweight. Yet, both admitted that they don't like their own body. I'm sure people like them are common in the fashion industry.

Fashion trends are created by people who have money and access to various weight loss medicine, experts, and tools. Yet, they still don't like their own body, and are still aspiring to achieve their ideal body-shape, someday somehow. They don't create those clothes to look good on us, the commoners. They don't even think they look good on those clothes themselves. So, why should we buy those clothes? It's better for us to forgo the trend and only buy clothes that objectively look good on us, regardless what the fashion houses dictate.

[vax-seen]

The Facade

Science: the backbone of our world. It is the tool we use to reason, study, explain, and determine everything about our world. Science isn't biased; it's not concerned with the outcome of new information. It doesn't care how long a practice has been trusted. It only focuses on the information we have now and what we can determine from it. Keep that in mind as you read the information presented in this blog.

Most U.S. citizens were raised to trust the CDC's guidelines, follow their doctor's advice, and adhere to the rules these institutions set for society. It’s no secret that our nation's health is in peril: Autism rates are skyrocketing, autoimmune disorders are increasing every year, and chronic illness is rampant. Most importantly, our life expectancy has started to decline. Why is this happening? Why do the institutions in charge of our health keep recommending practices that keep us sick and make them money? Why do most licensed doctors admit they never studied nutrition in their education nor consider it in their practice?

Nutrition is the foundation of health, yet doctors focus solely on prescribing medications to combat the side effects of our poor diets, as well as the side effects from all the other medications prescribed to Americans. The answer is simple: money. Keeping Americans sick is the overriding goal. There is no profit in a cure, and anyone who fails to see that is simply choosing to maintain their safe worldview out of fear. It takes courage to accept that you've been deceived, so I encourage you to have the strength to listen to the facts presented in this blog.

The COVID-19 vaccine represents a new type of "medicine" known as mRNA technology. It works by injecting a lipid nanoparticle that contains instructions for producing antibodies into the muscle tissue in your arm. The nanoparticle is coated in fat so that the cell walls can absorb it and follow its instructions to produce the appropriate antibodies. The immune system recognizes the cell producing something it didn't authorize and labels it as virally infected. It then sends white blood cells to destroy the infected cell. This isn't supposed to be a significant risk because the affected cells are localized in the injection site.

However, one major oversight by the CDC was the decision not to require aspiration for the COVID shots. Aspiration involves pulling back on the syringe before injecting to ensure the needle isn't in a vein or blood vessel. If it is, the doctor would see blood and adjust the needle to ensure the shot is injected into muscle, not intravenously. Without aspiration, many patients received the shot directly into their bloodstream, allowing the lipid nanoparticles direct access to the heart and affecting large numbers of cells there. The immune system destroyed these cells, leaving the heart weakened. Unlike other parts of the body, the heart cannot repair itself quickly. This weakened heart tissue has caused many people to collapse or die on sports fields. If you’ve noticed such cases in the months following mass vaccinations, it’s likely you’ve seen myocarditis, the condition caused by this process, unless censorship hid the videos before you could watch.

Looking back, it’s clear how this happened. The decision to forgo aspiration makes no sense, especially since the vaccine was meant to be intramuscular. The reasoning behind this policy was to prevent vaccine hesitancy—a dangerous and irresponsible choice. No government or authority should be allowed to make such decisions. The fact that this happened is a clear sign that safety was not their priority. Their primary motivation was money, and they developed a system to generate as much as possible.

First, they inflated the severity of COVID to make it seem more deadly than it was. The media, funded by big Pharma (as evidenced by all the drug commercials), instilled fear in the American public. They misrepresented information about alternative treatments like Ivermectin and Hydroxychloroquine, both of which are proven to be effective for treating RNA viruses, including COVID. Even though these medications are cheap and readily available, the government and media suppressed information about them. Ivermectin, which is less toxic than Hydroxychloroquine, should have been the first line of defense against COVID. Personally, I used Ivermectin when I had COVID, and all of my symptoms disappeared after two doses within 24 hours. Thousands of cases of successful treatment with Ivermectin exist, and India even made it their primary treatment for the entire country.

Here’s where things get strange: The government cannot issue an "emergency use authorization" unless there are no alternative treatments. In order to push mass vaccination, they set out to discredit and censor any alternative treatment. All major news networks, Facebook, Instagram, Google, and Twitter (before it changed ownership) implemented censorship to prevent "vaccine hesitancy." CNN even mocked Joe Rogan for using Ivermectin, calling it "horse medication." In reality, the inventor of Ivermectin won a Nobel Prize for its use in humans. CNN's portrayal was evil and misleading. The goal was to convince people that vaccination was their only option. Unfortunately, they succeeded, with over 77% of the U.S. population receiving the vaccine. They didn’t just make it seem like the only option—they made it mandatory for those who wanted to attend school or keep their job.

Why are institutions that Americans have trusted for decades committing such heinous acts? Why is science being manipulated? Why is safety not a priority? Why are hundreds of scientists and doctors censored, silenced, and stripped of their medical licenses when they try to go public with this information? Money. In summary, the government struck fear into the public, said the only solution was vaccination, and made it mandatory if you wanted to stay in school, keep your job, or travel. It resulted in $90 billion in profits for big Pharma. No wonder they sought the emergency use authorization. These actions have led to the death or permanent injury of millions of Americans, and the people responsible deserve to be imprisoned for life.

[mynameisquoi]

ross rose: --but my boss said he still won't give me my old job back, even though i beat him in chess! in fact, i got the distinct impression that he was annoyed with me for winning that game...

kane: such are the perils of the rat race. i am grateful that my ludicrously large inheritance allows me to forgo such a meaningless existence for more enlightened pursuits.

ross rose: that sure must be nice to not have to worry about money! although i think i might go stir-crazy if i didn't have a job to go to everyday.

kane: ...what are you implying? that i may be crazy since i don't have a regular job?

ross rose: ah, that's not--

kane: because i'll have you know that i am an incredibly sane individual. i have several years' worth of process notes from multiple psychoanalysts that can attest to that.

ross rose: aren't you not supposed to have access to those notes since you're the patient?

kane: you would say something like that.

[abimee]

@mustardday direct correspondence from a friend on the matter

basically; artfight is run like shit and the moderators get a lot of stress put on them for zero compensation and instead of clearly explaining where there donations go to in a transparent manner the artfight team has decided to entirely forgo publicly revealing their donation charts, and this year a head mod left last minute alongside a few smaller mods soon after. Artfight has also had a problem only fixed this year where under age accounts could still see and access NSFW content through a filter system rather than outright locking them out of said content

the big red flag being raised by people that personally keeps me from participating is about WHERE the money goes for artfight and how nobody knows what the moneyhandling is like besides the runner of artfight, as all mods and people involved besides iirc a single artist? and the head of artfight have no access to any of the money, alongside that nobody on the artfight teams gets paid besides one coder, the artists, and the artfight leader, and that we do not know the tax classification of ArtFight. so moderators are inundated with hours of work for a whole month with no compensation and have to deal with the lashing out that comes from server issues, sexual harassment, pedophilia on the website, etc. Which for a month-long event that happens once a year, I think they are more than capable of using that ''back store of money'' to pay their moderators, but this is a personal grievance

overall artfight is run like a shitshow and the money transparency issue makes it looks a lot worse than it could be if the leader just posted a yearly expense sheet telling people where their money goes, like all other volunteer orgs do with PDFS and extensive accounting summaries

[leftarrowtees]

Eat From The Side Of The Road

Welcome to the buzzing world of the locavore movement, where your food choices become a powerful statement about sustainability, community support, and personal health. As locavores, the idea is simple yet profound: prioritize food that’s grown or produced within your local region, ideally through direct relationships with farmers and artisans. This isn’t just about enjoying fresh, flavorful meals—it’s a journey towards a more sustainable and equitable food system.

So, why make the shift towards a hyperlocal diet? It all starts with the intersection of politics and food. Every purchase you make is a vote for the kind of world you want to live in. When you choose locally sourced food, you’re advocating for reduced transportation emissions and less packaging waste. Moreover, you’re making a political statement that you stand for small-scale, sustainable farming practices that often fall by the wayside in industrial agriculture debates. Eating locally isn’t just a culinary preference; it’s a political action that supports the environment and local economies.

Farm-to-table isn’t just a trendy term; it’s one of the backbones of the locavore movement. This concept stretches beyond just buying and eating local—it involves building relationships with the people who grow your food. Imagine biting into a crisp apple picked from an orchard a few miles away or savoring a slice of bread made from wheat grown and milled in your vicinity. This connection deepens one’s appreciation for food and informs more conscious eating practices.

However, being a locavore also means being adaptive and seasonal in your eating habits. It’s about syncing with nature’s cycles and not the supermarket shelves. Yes, this might mean forgoing strawberries in the winter or waiting patiently for the first tomatoes of summer, but the reward is a reconnection with the natural rhythm of your local ecosystem. Plus, seasonal food is at its peak in both nutrients and flavor—a win-win for your body and your palate.

Let’s not forget the economic impact. When you buy local, your money stays within the community, bolstering the local economy and enabling farmers to keep producing spectacular food. It’s a sustainable model that fosters community resilience, ensuring that local producers can survive and thrive even when global food markets are volatile.

While the benefits of becoming a locavore are plentiful, embracing this lifestyle isn’t without its challenges. One of the primary hurdles is accessibility; depending on where you live, finding a consistent and varied supply of local foods can be difficult, especially in urban areas or regions with limited agricultural production. The cost can also be a barrier for many, as small-scale, sustainable farming practices often result in higher prices compared to mass-produced food due to the more labor-intensive methods used. Additionally, adjusting to a seasonal diet means that the availability of certain favorite foods can be limited during off-seasons, requiring a shift in eating habits and meal planning. Despite these challenges, the effort to overcome them not only supports a sustainable lifestyle but also fosters creativity in the kitchen as you learn to use what is locally available in new and exciting ways.

If you’re looking to dive deeper into the locavore lifestyle, start with your local farmers’ market or sign up for a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) box. Engage with local food guides and apps that connect you with local eateries and food producers. Remember, becoming a locavore is not about perfection; it’s about making more mindful, informed choices whenever possible. Every small change contributes to a larger shift towards a sustainable future. So, why not let your next meal be a reflection of your values and a step towards a better world? Join the locavore movement and taste the difference—it’s delicious here!

Thank you for reading this Left Arrow Tees blog post. It is supported by our t-shirt store and if you have a few minutes we would love to have you shop around. Thank you!

[wafflerageface]

Alright homies. Time to strap in and strap on for a crap guide to surviving this capitalist hellscape nightmare (because Bezos can suck my dick)

It’s come to my attention that a lot of y’all probably either grew up with access to going to medical professionals, did the walk in clinics, or simply suffered a childhood of feeling miserable but just let sickness run it’s course because who the fuck has money for medical care these days.

I am here to enlighten you that it doesn’t have to be misery all the time. I have been dubbed the mom friend for many reasons, one of which being my innate ability to soothe just about anything that ails you, bandage and package any wound that you probably can forgo the ER (or at least live long enough to get there) and it’s all done for relatively cheap if you know what you’re doing and where to look.

Today’s lesson is what to do when allergies kick your fucking ass because they sure as hell are using mine as a field goal today.

You got a sore throat, but you hate cough drops, cough syrups, all that sticky yucky bullshit that honestly ends up only temporarily soothing the problem and doesn’t actually help? Yeah throw that shit out. What you want is tea. Just buy the off brand shit it works just as well. For soothing a sore throat, get you some green tea and some echinacea (preferably in the same blend but you can have two different boxes) a box of cheap off brand tea will run you about $3.50 a box, so if you need two, that’s $7. You’ll want to add lemon to that (a lemon is like 50¢ I’m pretty sure) and mix it pretty well. Now if you have the money to splurge, you can sweeten it with locally grown honey. That can be expensive though so it’s optional. I know some of us don’t have a lot to spare.

The reason why this works:

Echinacea has antibacterial and anti fungal properties that will help kill the bacteria in your throat that causes the soreness.

Green tea boosts you metabolism, but it also is packed with amino acids, vitamins, minerals, and has a very high count of antioxidants.

Lemon is full of vitamin C which is a great boost to your immune system.

Locally grown honey over regular because it’ll be made with the pollen currently kicking your ass. It’s like giving yourself a tasty vaccination against the local plant sperm.

If you’re needing to sleep, and you’re congested too, or just can’t sleep because of how miserable you feel, you can make this same blend and add chamomile or lavender to it. Chamomile and lavender both provide melatonin to help your body wind down and sleep, but they also have strong anti inflammatory properties that will reduce the inflammation in both your throat and nasal passages. If you’re extremely congested and it’s settling in your chest, add ginger and turmeric instead for a combo that’ll break up that nasty shit quick.

This has been your local lesbian’s insights, now signing off and hoping to not die.