#no i like it well done. very well done. practically charred.

[roxannepolice]

I'm just going to sit here and be amazed at the fact that you can spend nearly twelve hours making a case of morality being complicated; that actions rarely have only good or only evil consequences; that magnanimous actions can be done for selfish reasons; that people can have selfless and selfish motivations at once; that you can develop an individual morality while social ethics remain at the corner of your eye to define yourself in line or in opposite to them;

and end up with an audience nodding and smiling patiently, waiting for the simple solution to get pulled out of your hat like a very tired rabbit.

[ghostaholics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader (established relationship) ➸ WARNING(S): [ 18+ ] body shots; oral (receiving); ruined orgasm; basically PWP with slight BDSM (disciplinary action) ➸ SUMMARY: Simon teaches you a very important lesson about holding still – extended version of this. ➸ A/N: Thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who lets me bitch about anything and everything including this and offered kind words when I certainly lost faith in the whole thing. ➸ WORD COUNT: 2.2k

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Pilfered from his not-so-secret stash and running low with about a quarter left; the contents slosh around in their bottle-shaped confinement as he stalks into the room with a heavy hand swallowing around the widest circumference of the glass.

Good memories, usually. Like the first time he’d brandished his titanium pocket flask for you to take a sip. You’d scrunched your nose, feigning disapproval of the drink. And he'd said – cheeky as always – with a low-timbered response:

"Don't worry. The taste of your cunt's still my favourite."

But now, there’s no trace of that Simon anywhere to be seen. His face is entirely devoid of the amusement he already so rarely expressed. Stone-rigid. Unimpressed. Disappointed – seems like – and certainly not in the mood for any games.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇? ❞

It's a red-hot brand searing the edges of your memory (charred, ash-coated, lined by the cinders of a poor attempt on your part that had gone up into flickering embers).

See, the brain remembers it well.

Your cunt, too: the walls hugging his cock, full of his cum – excessively so, nearly bursting with it after he'd buried himself to the hilt and stayed inside just to plug your snug little hole, ensuring that none of it would dribble out after he’d fucked you senseless. He’d given you plenty, more than enough. And it’d been generous of Simon. A gift, really, considering the enormity of the initial request.

Make me yours?

He’d only had one thing to say, just a simple favour in return for doing this, for indulging you. His voice had been hoarse, sandpaper-rough from overuse – your fault entirely – eroded away after being subjected to a whole night's worth of groaning against the shell of your ear and telling you just how fucking good you felt before you'd milked him for everything he was worth with your greedy, pulsing self.

Keep it all in then.

You’d done your best not to clench, but stretched taut around the girth of his cock like that, you'd just wanted to readjust. Not a lot. But the position you'd been in wasn't the most conducive one for this. And you’d shifted – barely, practically inconsequential (or so you’d thought) – to where you wouldn’t have even thought it’d matter except—

It had.

Pushed some of it out, that is. A stream of cum trickling down onto an area of the duvet, staining it – the unfortunate aftermath of your decision to move.

Thas’ a shame. Thought you wanted it. Guess I was wrong.

Simon comes to a stop at the foot of the bed where you're sitting; he towers over you – an intimidating, subduing presence without even having to try. "Had to wash the sheets because you couldn't keep it all in.”

You blink in surprise as your mouth parts slightly in what you're sure must be a dumbfounded expression. Of course, this is nothing new. You were there. Responsible for the incident, apparently. And though it wasn't necessarily your fault, you still feel the need to explain that it was due to factors beyond your control. “There was so much—” (As if it'll help your case.)

But he's never cared much for excuses.

“How ‘m I supposed to finish inside you knowing that you’re just going to waste it?” he asks. It's a rhetorical question, not one that actually requires an answer.

Your chin tips down in a silent apology. There's something heavy sitting in your chest; remorse, you think.

He grips your jaw in his hand, forces you to look at him. “Yeah, love. We’ll fix that. Gonna teach you how to be grateful, how to understand the value in the things I give to you."

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

He makes you tell him your colors.

You do.

He asks if you know what you’re supposed to get out of this.

You answer that he’s probably going to have to wash the sheets again before you can learn whatever lesson he’s trying to impose on you.

Yeah, that earns you a sharp pinch to the hip.

That massive body of his sinks to the floor, one leg bending down before the other joins it, rough carpet cutting into his knees, undoubtedly. Then, his fingers curl around your legs, blunt digits sinking in – ten identical divots pressed into the flesh. He leaves light indentations with his palms spanning along the sides of your thighs to spread you open while his elbows anchor into the mattress.

Heat blooms across your skin, every surface that he touches and even in the places that he doesn't – white-hot, intentional (and he never does anything without purpose); it sparks a fever that fans out, unfurls. There's no part of you left unaffected. You're growing warmer by a few degrees. Doesn't sound like much, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference if the beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck are any indication.

And Simon lets out a soft scoff. Cocky. Like he knew what was waiting for him—

You're soaked, absolutely drenched. Cotton panties, sticky –saturated beyond belief. If you looked there yourself, you wouldn't be surprised to find a damp patch on the fabric steadily growing in size.

He's such a sight, too: the contour of his muscles shifting and rippling, all brawn and power – his presence speaking volumes about just who holds the cards right now, undeniably the one in control here; the visual of his stature and build emphasize that. And authority bleeding from the width of his shoulders if not spelled out by his words alone.

"Haven't even touched you, and you're already dripping," he murmurs. "Why?"

Your mouth trips and stutters over your own words the same way your heart trips and stutters over his. "Because you—y-you're..."

His thumbs hook into your panties, slowly peels them away – not an easy feat, damn things are clinging to your cunt – before dragging them down your legs. "Say it, sweetheart. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

And your mind is racing, jumping too many steps ahead. "You're going to eat me out?"

Simon stuffs his panties in his back pocket for safekeeping. A souvenir, since there won't be much use for them now. "I'm gonna eat you out," he affirms.

"Mhm, yeah. Want your mouth on me."

"Whether or not you come depends entirely on if I feel like letting you."

"Oh—"

"Spill a single drop, and you don't come tonight," he says, never one to draw out the details. His instructions are concise, uncomplicated. Then, further inquiry. "We clear?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shaky breath before trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yes."

"Good girl," he purrs low, almost a growl – though you're not quite certain that you deserve the praise yet.

He’s answering to a shrine, beckoned forward by the invitation of a wet cunt and the promise of a taste of your slick. He pauses, takes a brief moment to admire it in his own way, almost reverent as he takes in how your arousal’s smeared everywhere from your folds to your inner thighs (all for him, because of him – isn’t that right?).

But make no mistake, there’s absolutely nothing respectful about the act that comes next. Simon leans, forces his shoulders to hold you open, before he bows his head and he licks; it’s a hungry tongue lapping at the slit, everything terribly hot and wet – the sensation makes you jolt upon first contact because it's too much. So, so much.

And at the same time, not enough.

The feeling spikes along the circuit running from your head to your toes – empty thoughts save for the white static that buzzes in the hollow of your skull, a tingling, prickling paresthesia-sort-of-thing that usually accompanies the high of an orgasm. Except, the irony’s not lost on you in this instance; he’s hardly even begun to wreak havoc on your cunt yet.

Currents zip down your spine, down, further down, everything else collateral damage. No part of you is spared by the overwhelming fervor responsible for it – the initial onslaught of his mouth laying waste at the spread of your entrance.

Every single nerve-ending is on-edge, trigger-sensitive as he sucks, and kisses, and fuck are his groans heavy, bone-deep, the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering in his chest. They radiate from the point of origin where your core’s suffering, reverberating tremors that diffuse out to the rest of you. It makes your skin thrum like a live wire. There’s no hope of staying in a fixed position if he keeps this up. How could you? The odds are zero to none. It isn’t feasible.

You forget your place, can't help but squirm within his iron grip.

Then, Simon; a severe reprimand— "Watch it," he rasps. It’s a lull amidst the incursion, an unplanned interlude. Temporary reprieve (barely) so he can scold you for your inability to follow his instructions.

A low whimper leaves your throat. That's completely out of the question, beyond what you're currently capable of. Easier said than done. "I'm trying—"

"Then try harder."

Despite how weighed down your eyelids feel, you manage to guide your laden gaze south, let it roam over your stomach. The dark, amber liquid in your navel sways; it rocks, sloshes with the tide, a consequence born from the pull and heave of your jarring movements. Exercise caution. This is delicate work – a balancing act. Those thoughts are cloudy.

Your mind is fuzzy, thick, a drunken haze. Buzzed, lightheaded. And everything's off-kilter. But you haven't had a single drop of alcohol. None at all. Couldn’t, because everything's still sitting in your navel right there like it’s supposed to.

Simon dips his head back between your legs, continues to seal his mouth over you, flattening his tongue to lick thick stripes from your entrance to your clit. He doesn't let up, only bringing his face closer, following that same path again and again and again – agonizing – until you're trembling. The noises he’s making, something debauched and bottomless – one wet groan after the other. This isn't for you. It's for him, that much is clear.

You plead anyways, hoping he'll grant you an amnesty that you haven't earned in the least bit, "Need you inside. Anything, just—"

"Sure you can handle it?"

Breathless when you say, "Ah, yeah..."

"We'll see about that," Simon murmurs.

He doesn't believe you.

To be fair, you’re not so sure you do either.

But he's courteous, slips one finger in and lets you clamp around him. And your cunt flutters, welcomes the feeling.

You release a soft moan. “Want more, Si. Feels good."

His face turns to the side, wet nose and chin grazing along your thigh to spread the slick in more places that haven't been drenched yet. Then he bites. Gentle. An admonishment. Nothing serious about it though: scraping, the light pressure of teeth sinking into the skin as he pulls with his mouth.

You jerk suddenly before catching yourself.

"Don't be fuckin' greedy. You'll take what I give you, and you'll thank me for it." He's curt, perfunctory. No delay as he offers up his two fingers to your mouth. The expectation is clear. “Suck.” And he's waiting.

You wrap your lips around them, swallowing him down, not one to squander an opportunity sitting in front of you, right? You understand that now.

“So tell me how good you taste.”

"I-um, taste good—"

"Yeah, you fuckin' do."

"Thank you."

“Mhm.”

You can't see it, but you can hear it: the low clinking of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being undone. Clinking metal and rustling denim being tampered with somewhere below your line of sight as he reaches down, almost like he— is he… oh.

Most of his body's obscured by the edge of the bed, but everything from the chest up is still visible. Simon's shoulder is bobbing slightly, arm pumping back and forth in a rhythmic motion and fuck, he's getting himself off to this.

That sends another spark of arousal to your core, makes you gush. It adds to the mess coating his jaw, his chin, his lips. You whimper out something – broken syllables – his name, maybe. You’re not entirely sure.

God, you’re almost there. So close. Wound up tight, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing his tongue—

Until he stops entirely. No contact. Simon pulls away in such a rush that you gasp, startled.

"Look at that." Accusatory.

It's a trail of liquor dribbling over the curve of your stomach, down your side in small rivulets. There are streaks pooling onto the sheets underneath you. Tragic.

(Couldn't help yourself, huh?)

Guilty as charged.

Shit.

"What'd I say – told you to hold still, yeah?"

And even though you had a feeling it would happen, you still have the nerve to act surprised at the result. "Fuck," you whine pathetically. "Was so close—"

"We're starting over. Don't care if it takes us all night, we're gonna keep at this 'til you get it right or you use up the rest of the whiskey," he says, readying himself to deposit another pour of alcohol into your navel. Simon lifts his shoulder in a light shrug like he can't be bothered about the final outcome. "Better pray that it works out before the bottle’s empty. Won't let you finish otherwise, sweetheart. Understand?"

[seat-safety-switch]

The grills have fallen still. After a long and productive barbecuing season, the weather has turned and we now face the grim reality of not being able to cook steak outside for the next six to ten months. A pessimist would say that's okay, because nobody can afford steak anymore. An optimist would say that's not okay, because the grocery store doesn't have as much security over the winter.

My own relationship with barbecue is very complicated. Like some of you, I was raised in a traditional household, where it was expected that the man of the house makes dinner approximately once per year, and only with some kind of outdoor grilling implement. This was always either undercooked or near-burned, and so I never quite "got" the cult of televised grilled food competitions that arrived at the turn of the century, when people were losing faith in the old gods of Iron Chef and looking for a new bandwagon to climb onto.

Perhaps things are different down in the south, where the mild weather means that the outdoor chefs get a chance to char their meat at least twice per year. And they're close to places that have actual spices, so close that it seems likely that by sheer chance, a truck full of jalapeños could crash nearby and flavour the meat with aerosolized peppers while the operator of the grille is distracted by the arrival of the fire department. I don't know for sure, and I don't want to speak to their unique culture of "making food hotter."

For me, personally, the only way to enjoy food cooked outside is on a hot exhaust manifold. Wrap your purloined porkchops in tinfoil, slam them into the nookiest part of the engine's hotside, and go for a drive.

When you're done, the food should be well above safe operating temperature. And if not, the thin film of unburned gasoline and oil coming out of the leaking intake manifold gasket ought to kill whatever bacteria is living in there anyway. Importantly, you get a chance to practice this skill each and every time you are forced by the hostile aims of terminal-stage capitalism to drive to work. It's the fastest way to improve your barbecuing game and amaze the neighbours. And why stop there? When you get a Michelin star, you let me know. I bet you get a discount on tires.

[pattypanini]

Lay All Your Love On Me Chapter 5- Rules

Josh Kiszka x Reader AND slight Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: Around 4k

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the fifth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! Thank you so much for all the support, we appreciate it all. Here is the taglist incase anyone wants to be added to it: TAGLIST. This is our last 'smaller' chapter but its filled with lots of good stuff. We hope you enjoy chapter 5, Rules.

Also get ready for smut because it doesn't end from here, only gets worse. LOL. And get more use to Jake, because we’re going to be seeing a lot more of him soon 😘

Next chapter coming this Thursday!

Warnings: 18+, SMUTTTTT, Unprotected sex, Tit fondling, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Angst, Flirting, Cursing, Hickeys, Alcohol, not good coping mechanisms, jealousy, heavy petting. (lmk if i forgot anything!)

Y/n’s POV:

Walking to class the next morning was an experience. You both ended up sleeping through the alarm and had to get ready at his house. So that meant having to go to class in his sweats and t-shirt from last night. Charlotte wasn’t the happiest that you didn’t walk with her to class, in fact you ended up being half an hour late to your lecture, but telling her about the night distracted her from her anger.

“He may or may not have eaten me out..” You raise your eyebrows, as you tilt your cold brew up to your lips, taking a swig. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Charlotte covers her mouth to keep her drink in. 

“Char, quiet down please. I don’t think all of Starbucks wants to know about my night,��� you scolded her with a chuckle. It had become routine to go to Starbucks after your first class due to the break you both had before your next one. 

“Well… how was it? Was he good?” Charlotte presses. 

“It was really good. A lot better than I expected, I’ll say that. His talkativeness definitely translates into the bedroom.”  

“Omg, I bet you're looking forward to practicing now. I mean you guys are, like, practically married at this point.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, in a teasing manner. 

To be honest you weren’t looking forward to practice this afternoon knowing that Lindsey would be expecting a cover of your adventures of last night, and that Josh would be listening to it to hear what you rated his performance. So fucking cocky. 

“Umm yeah, sure I guess I’m excited.” You respond, knowing you were completely lying to her.

You finish your drinks and say your goodbyes, making your way to your hour and a half long class that you would spend most of the time online shopping. 

—

First week of April 2023- Spring Semester- Junior Year

The rest of the week, practice goes fairly smooth. It was now the beginning of April and you were enjoying your time at practice, feeling very confident in your role. You still had a little over a month before the real deal but everyone was making good progress. But of course something was nagging at you. Josh was still talking and flirting with that bitch, Sophia. Yeah you were a little jealous, but so was she. She wanted Josh so bad and can’t take seeing Josh being flirty with you. 

When everyone was trying out, Sophia explained that she would be soooo perfect for the role of Sophie. Apparently, she's not as perfect as she thinks because you’re the one that got the lead. Guys only want her because she has a fat ass, but she’s just a fucking airhead. All looks, no brains and definitely no personality. She was very rude to everyone she met except for guys. You didn’t understand how Josh couldn’t see that. Or maybe he did, and he just wanted you to get jealous. Asshole.

By the time it hit Friday you were so done with the week. You were kinda excited to hangout with Josh this weekend since you barely talked during the week, but you couldn't seem too desperate. 

You walk over to Josh who is still talking to Sophia way after practice ended to talk to him about the weekend. “Hey Sophia, are you done talking to Josh?”

“I’m actually not sooo.”

“It was a rhetorical question dumbass soooo, bye.” You give a bitchy smile, sending her on her way. Josh turns to you with a confused look on his face. 

“Uhhh what the fuck y/n?”

“Did you really have any interest in what she was saying, because your body language alone shows literally anything but interest.”

He rolls his eyes, waiting for what you have to say.

“Are we hanging out this weekend?”

“Why so desperate for me y/n? Did Monday night really change you.” He says smirking, eyeing you up and down.

“Sorry for wanting to be around you, besides I can’t be hanging out with anyone else, but you don’t seem to be holding up your end of the bargain so I guess it doesn’t matter. So what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m going to the Alpha Delta Phi house tonight for their party, but you're not coming, those guys would be all over you.”

“Is Sophia coming?”

“Yeah but only because she heard I was going, but you're not coming.”

“Okay fine. I’ll just call Mark to have him over. See you on Monday.” You turn, beginning to walk away before you feel a hand grab your shoulder, turning you Josh’s way.

“No you're not!” He says looking deep into your eyes with anger, and jealousy. “If you're coming you're staying with me, got it?”

You nod your head with innocence and leave without another word. Tonight was going to be fun, and Josh would finally realize why no other girl could ever replace you.

JOSH’s POV:

The shower was relaxing, especially after a week of long practices and stupid classes. You just wanted to unwind and get a little drunk at tonight's party. You weren’t super thrilled when Sophia said she wanted to come to the party, not that you care about her being around everyone. You just didn't want to hear her yap all night, that was your job. 

You wanted to pick out an outfit that you knew y/n would like, but she really hasn’t expressed what she likes on you, so you opted to stick with your basics, a white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and high top white vans. 

You quickly shoved your pen in your pocket and keys and you and Jake started heading towards the main road. You texted y/n that you would meet her outside the frat house at 11:15 before you went in. You wouldn’t let her walk into that damn house alone, even though she probably has a million times.

The walk to the house was quiet. Jake has obviously been flirting with y/n, but she wasn’t reciprocating it so you didn’t worry. When you finally got there you waited outside and sent y/n a text. 

11:13pm Josh: We’re here, where are you?

11:13 pm y/n: I’m on the street, chill.

You waited a moment and scrolled on your phone until you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn to see her. Holy shit. She was pure beauty. Y/n stands there wearing a plum corset top with black leather pants and black docs. Her long hair was curled loosely and fell over her shoulders perfectly. Her makeup was gorgeous and perfectly accentuated her features. You hadn't realized how long you had been staring for before y/n said something. 

“Josh, hello? Are you good?” She flashed her perfect, white teeth at you.

“Oh yeah, we can head in.” You notice her necklace is off centered and reach forward to fix it, lining the initial in the middle of her collarbone. 

“Thanks Joshy.” She smiles at you and makes her way up the stairs as you turn to look at Jake.

“Pick your jaw off the floor Jake, she's not yours bud.”

“We’ll see about that, brother.” He pats you on the back, a stupid smirk plastered across his face, following y/n’s footsteps.

I’m gonna kill him. 

-

Something about tonight made you think you were going to need a fair amount of alcohol. You make your way to the kitchen where bottles are scattered across the counter tops. The rooms were dark and overstimulating with all the music and people. You make your way across the room on the creaky floors into the kitchen. You grab a cup for you and y/n and attempt to find her in the ocean of people. When you finally find her dancing with some of her friends you tap her and hand her her drink. 

“Thanks Joshyyy.” She smiles, takes a sip, and continues to dance. She already seems a little tipsy.

“Did you drink already?” You ask, taking a sip of your own drink.

“I meannnn, I had a few shots before I came, but I’m tot-ally in control.” She says slurring her words. She grabs you by your shirt pulling you into her, forcing you to dance with her. In her drunken state, you feel a splash of something soak into your white shirt. “Josh, oh my god, I’m sorryyy.”

“Fuck. Uh, it’s fine,” You were pissed, slightly embarrassed as well. Annoyed, you stomp away from her to find some napkins.

As you enter the kitchen, you locate the napkins and look over to y/n’s direction. You see she’s already found another guy. She leans her head on the mystery man’s shoulder, loudly speaking into his ear. 

“My number is 517, wait, that's not close. Um, haha. Uh, 273- 5. Wait fuck- its actually 274,” she screams into his ear, laughing hysterically. “The last four digits are-”

You’ve had enough, you race towards her leaning into her ear. “What did you not understand about our deal?” You say through gritted teeth, speaking just loud enough so only she could hear. 

“I’m only being nice. Cool it.” She snaps back at you, defensively. 

“Fine. I guess I can be ‘nice’ too, hm?” You walk away from her, beginning to regret letting her come along. You grab your pen from your pocket and take a quick hit, followed by another sip of the mixed drink. You make your way to the dance floor, looking for her. When your eyes spot her, you quickly make your way over.

You reach your hand out to her, inviting her to dance with you. “ Care to dance?” You offer her a syrupy, sweet smile. Your eyes plead with her to say ‘yes’.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Sophia takes your hand and you guide her so her back is pressed against your front. The song Kill The Lights begins to blare through the speakers, undoubtedly rupturing anyone’s eardrums who were in close vicinity. The strobe lights flicker around the, otherwise, dark room. Your hands land on her hips, grinding her ass into your semi-hard dick. She looked lovely tonight dressed in an emerald green bodysuit paired with black skinny jeans. Her tits practically falling out of her top and her jeans perfectly highlighting her curvy hips. 

“You look pretty tonight, Soph,” You lean down and whisper into her ear.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Kiszka,” she retorts, biting her lip and grinding harder into you.

“Oh fuck,” the friction of her grinding was beginning to get to you. You break away from her, turning her around to face you. “Want me to fill up your drink?”

“Please,” she hands you her cup and you scurry off to the kitchen, yet again. It appeared to be your favorite place tonight. You find yourself looking y/n’s way, to see her staring back at you. 

Y/n’s POV

Are you fucking joking. After everything you guys talked about, he still takes it as a fucking joke. Well, maybe you weren't one to talk, but two can play at that game. You make your way through the crowd, in search of a Kiszka twin, and certainly not the slutty, fuckboy twin. You see him standing leaning against the wall, beer in hand. His black button up only buttoned to his navel, enticing you even more. “Can you dance?” You ask him, batting your lashes at Jake. 

“Fuck, yeah!” You grab his hand forcefully pulling him to the dance floor, and right pass Josh so he can see you and his twin walking by, hand and hand. Blame It by Jamie Foxx and T- Pain begins to play and that was enough to get you in a certain mood. You left no time to start grinding up on Jake, pressing your ass into his dick. 

His hands began feeling up and down your body, going from your ass, around your hips, up to your waist. As you look deep into Josh’s eyes you grab Jake's hands and begin to reach down pulling them higher so they are just below your tits. Your hips sway against him, feeling his dick harden into your ass. 

“y/n…” Jake mumbles into your ear, seductively. “Damn..” You move his hands to sit right on top of your tits and he gives them a light squeeze. “... you’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You would hate this type of PDA normally, but tonight you were just in the mood for revenge.

“I know you’ve been wanting to touch me, Jake,” You turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Yeah? Who says?” His brow quirks up, challenging you. He pulls you closer, your bodies now flush together. 

“Says me, and all the flirting you’ve been doing lately.” You tilt your face up to his, looking directly into his chocolatey brown eyes. A few moments of silence pass as you both continue to dance.

You feel a hand wrap around your bicep and pull you away from Jake. 

“What the actual, fuck, do you think you’re doing?” It was Josh. His eyes darted between you and his brother. 

“Just having some fun Josh since you wanted to leave me stranded on the dance floor! You expected me to dance all alone? I don’t fucking think so,” You snap at him, ripping your arm out of his hand, turning back to Jake.

“Where were we?” You shoot him a small smile, simply to get under Josh’s skin.

“No, it's time to leave, let's go.” He says pulling you away from his brother, dragging you out of the party.

You rip your hand out of his, yet again, and cross your arms as you walk with a purpose to get back to your dorm, whether he would follow or not.

“You’re no fucking fun Josh! You expect me to just stand there while Sophia is grinding on you. I may have been a little drunk but I’m sober enough to realize that you aren’t following the rules. So, OF COURSE, I wasn’t going to either. I didn’t think you could be so dense Josh!” You practically scream at him, as he follows close behind you. 

After a long quiet walk you finally make it to your dorm, with him still hot on your heels. Charlotte, without a doubt, would be staying at someone else's dorm tonight so you would be alone. You swing the door open trying to shut it infront of him, but he stopped it before it could fully close. As you make it into your bedroom, you slowly peel your pants off feeling over-stimulated, leaving you in only your corset and undies. After struggling to get your pants off you flop onto your bed, facing up to the ceiling. 

You close your eyes for a brief moment, and feel a presence above you. 

“You’re being a fucking brat you know that, and its making me crazy, y/n.” He begins to put his hands on both sides of your head, hovering above you. His lips dangerously close to your ear. “You don’t know what you do to me, mama, do you?” You shake your head, obviously knowing you make him horny. “Well I’m gonna fucking show you, and there won’t be any more confusion.”

JOSH’s POV

God, you don't know how long you’d be able to keep it together before you unleashed everything you had on her, but you had to work up to it. You wanted so badly to put her over your legs and spank her hard to teach her a lesson, but since she drank you didn’t think that would be the best move. Hooking your fingers under her panties you pull them aside, giving you full access to her beautiful wet pussy that you know you didn’t contribute to. But you knew you’d contribute to her not being able to walk tomorrow. 

“Who made you this wet, mama?” You already know the answer but you just want to hear her say it out loud. 

“Y-You Joshy.” She says with innocent eyes. Anticipation written all over her pretty face. 

“No, I said who fucking made you this wet, huh? Was it the guy in the corner or my fucking brother. Don’t you dare lie to me,” You say, grabbing her face slightly, making her look into your eyes. 

“It was Jakey, I’m sorry baby.” Jakey? Not the fucking pet names.

“Don’t be giving him fucking pet names, those are for me and me only, got it?” She nods again, and you let go of her face.

“There seems to be a lot you need to learn mama, and we're gonna make sure you know all of that before the end of the night.”

You kneel again before her, wasting no time to get to her wet heat. You bring your fingers up to the entrance of her mouth, “Open.” She opens her mouth up, sticking her tongue out slightly. What a dirty whore. You shove your fingers deep down her throat, making her gag slightly. As you bring them out she sucks on them, making your already hard dick throb under the fabric of your shorts.

You shove them deep into her pussy, curling them up to hit all the good spots. As if you had hit a button, she begins to arch her back and moan. 

“Let it all out, let me hear you baby. Your moans make me so fucking hard. They turn me on so much, mama.” You quicken the pace of your fingers.

“Josh, oh my god. You’re perfect holy fuck. Your fingers fill me up so good.” You’d be filling her up even more soon.

You notice her tits bouncing in her corset, that needs to come off, immediately. You remove your fingers and flip her onto her stomach. You start unlatching all the clips and turn her back over to back to peel it off the front of her. Her marks had faded from the other week.

You lean forward, making quick work of your mouth to create new purple bruises that would match her corset perfectly. Kissing each one of them before connecting your mouth with hers. 

“Are you ready for my cock mama?” You ask quietly.

She frantically nods her head, you could tell she needed it, but we weren't going to give it to her that easy.

“Beg for it baby, tell me how much you need my hard cock in that pretty pussy of yours.” 

“Fuck Josh I need it so bad. Wanna feel you inside” You begin to unlatch your pants pulling them down to the floor. “You're gonna stretch me out so good with your huge cock.” Bending down to her pussy, spitting straight onto it. “I wanna cum around your cock, please Josh.” You grin feeling like she gave you enough. You slap her pussy before thrusting into her hard, not giving her much time to adjust.

You lean forward, one hand on the bed, one on her tit. You lay a sloppy kiss to her lips and fuck into her hard. You could tell you were hitting the right spots. She was moaning and bracing herself by grabbing your biceps, which very quickly escalated to her nails scratching down your back. Fuck. It fucking hurt, but hurt so good. 

As you continued to pound hard into her you felt a new angle was needed. You pick yourself off her and begin to grab her ankles, and pull them up to your shoulders. Letting them rest there as you fuck her even deeper now. 

She was melting beneath you, becoming a sloppy mess. Her moans picked up, you could tell she, and yourself, were close to a breaking point. You kiss her ankles softly, which contrasted to the hard pounding you were inflicting onto your pussy.

“Where do you want me to cum baby?” You say through heavy breathing.

“Cum in me Josh, I wanna feel you fill me up.” Holy shit. You weren’t going to question it. As you get closer to your release you begin to feel squeezing around your cock.

“God, y/n, if you keep squeezing me like that I’ll come right, fucking, now.”

“FUCK JOSH, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop, harder!” She begins to buck up against you, meeting your thrusts.

“That's it baby, cum for me. You're such a good girl for me” 

With that she let out one final moan, filling the room with pleasure. You weren't too far behind her. You continued pounding her hard and within a few seconds came right into her pussy, just like she told you to. 

You fell into the spot right beside her in bed.

“You think you learned your lesson?” You tease, looking over at her. 

“Definitely Josh, it’ll be hard not to think about you.”

“Yeah? Why is that y/n”

“Because I’m going to be thinking about you every single time I try to walk.”

You can’t help but laugh at her comment. You wanted to make her feel good, make her want you even more. 

You couldn’t be bothered to get dressed, instead you pull the blanket up from the bottom of the bed, press a kiss into her head, and fall asleep next to the girl of your dreams.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TAGLIST

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12 @woyayaofdreams @freyjalw @musicspeaks

[syndrossi]

Back with more dragon lore:

How much hatchling raising is done older dragons? (Both ideally and in the current system that the Targs have if its different) Are they actually tended and cared for, or are they left to fend for themselves after a certain point? Because if the care Caraxes is showing now persists to teaching them, that could mean the two hatchlings are learning the war tricks of a veteran dragon while being projected as being absolutely huge...

Dadraxes: Humans can carry bent branchs that fling sharp splinters. They may not hurt your scales, but they can tear your wings and harm your human. What do we do to anything that hurts our human?

Qelebrys: Claw, fangs and fire.

Shadow: Char well before swallowing.

Dadraxes: those were both good answers. But remember, when diving towards an army, you always want to dive flame first. Now, what do we do when we pull out of a dive over an army?

*takes out Rhaegar's newly gifted books for transcribing dragon lore*

These days, I expect very little raising is done by the dragons themselves, with the Dragonkeepers filling the role of caretaker as well as guard. It's that thing where the more responsibilities your position has, the greater the job security / prestige, with the Dragonkeepers seizing more duties over the decades.

Whereas in the wild, they would be spending years with their parents. Since dragons are very large creatures with high caloric needs and a long lifespan, they need their parents for longer. I tend to have the maturity ranges for dragons at first year = infant/toddler, years 1-7 = child, 8-13 = teen, and 14+ = adult. They can technically be on their own probably sometime in childhood, since they'll be big enough in the wild to hunt for their own food, but they can still be preyed upon by other dragons.

In Valyria, I expect it was a balance. You want the hatchlings raised from birth to develop communication/cooperation skills with humans, but dragons are the best teachers for dragon skills: hunting, killing, navigating, etc. So they had that "co-parent" style model we've talking about before, where the mother's rider took on the role of the other parent.

Luke and Jace spend more time with their hatchlings than most, and Syrax being Rhaenyra's mount means that they get more time with their actual mother than other hatchlings in the pit do, which is helpful/healthy for Arrax and Vermax.

But Qelebrys and Shadow are getting a ton of parenting already from Caraxes, especially now that they're in the Red Keep's enclosure with him. Once they're big enough to keep up with him in the air, I can imagine the lessons really taking off. (And of course there is co-parenting from all three of Jon, Rhaegar, and Daemon.)

Squealing with pure joy at your General Dadraxes lesson, it's so cute! 🥰 And also practical! Because you're right, he has that valuable experience he gets to pass down to ensure that they don't lose their riders to thrown sticks, and that enemy humans protect themselves appropriately against the very LARGE pointy sticks they like to attack dragons with. And definitely to char before you swallow. *nod*

[captainpulisic]

i hate accidents! - c. pulisic

happy 25th birthday to my number one boy. again, this is for my girlies who go against gender norms and can’t cook!

gif credits to owner , wc: 1.8 k

flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter. flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter, you kept repeating the ingredients to yourself, making sure you had enough of each one. flour. sugar. eggs. milk. butter. oh- and cocoa powder. don’t forget the cocoa powder.

“oh, y/n.” your best friend leaned against her refrigerator, looking at you with weary eyes. she half heartedly gestured at the mess of ingredients you had laid across her kitchen counters. “why are you even doing this?”

her roomate chimed in from the next room where she was watching some movie, “yeah, we know cooking isn’t exactly your expertise.”

of course, they knew. everyone knew. you were self aware, you knew it better than anyone else. but this wasn’t cooking. it was baking. it was baking a birthday cake for christian so maybe this would prove easier than cooking?

you were going to bake it with love and whatever other bullshit people said, so this had to come out right, right?

“you know what you should do?” your friend was suddenly very serious. she took a step closer to you and fake whispered, “go get a store-bought cake that comes all prettily decorated. you just put it on a plate at home, put some candles and ta-da! it’s a beautiful homemade cake you made.”

you deadpanned, “are you being serious right now?”

“of course,” she waved you off. “i’ve done it plenty of times, people always fall for it.”

taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and point towards the door. “get out.”

“but this is my kitchen!” she half laughs, half protest.

“I know, I know,” you shake your head as you push her out of the room. giving her one last grateful smile as you shut the door, “and I really do appreciate you letting me borrow it but I seriously need to focus on this.”

yes, you had to find refuge in a different kitchen, no longer allowed in your own. after another cooking disaster, christian and yourself (mostly him) decided it was best to keep your time in the kitchen to a minimum.

“there’s only so many pots in the country,” he had teased as he tried scraping off the char. what? no one had told you making pancakes could be so hard!

it worked better for you, anyway. away from his prying eyes, you’d had free reign to practice all week long. you’re sure he’s grown suspicious of why you left every day for a few hours and came back smelling like you’d bathed in a tub of vanilla extract (you had spilled some on your clothes too many times to count). just yesterday, he had stopped you in the hallway and wiped some flour from your hair. when you saw him give you a curious glance, you leaned in to kiss him and led him straight to your bedroom. predictably, no questions had been asked after that.

with his strict diet and tough self discipline, christian didn’t indulge in sweets as often as would like. he stuck through rigorous training and healthy eating habits expected of him. his birthday cake was one of the few times of the year he let himself enjoy a sugary overload. therefore, you knew you couldn’t fuck this up for him. you had spent weeks scouring the internet for recipes and consulting with his mom on baking tips.

since his birthday fell on a monday this year, you’d planned to go out and celebrate with friends on the weekend. today was reserved for just the both of you. while he had a few hours of training, you were going to take advantage of the time to overcome the impossible and successfully bake an edible cake.

well, I have to start at some point, you chewed on your cheek. triple checking you had all the correct ingredients and measuring cups, your nerves got the best of you as you figured it was time to start.

you had settled on a simple chocolate cake- well the recipe seemed simple enough- and knowing of christians love for chocolate. hell bent on succeeding, you followed the instructions exactly as they were written and measured everything to the exact tablespoon.

all was going smoothly until it was time to add the designated two cups of sugar into the growing mixture. you hadn’t noticed you’d used up all your sugar during your trial runs. the recipe said not to stop stirring the batter, in fear that it would mess up the consistency. thus, you absentmindedly ventured into the cupboards in search of any sugar.

keeping your attention on stirring the batter, you reached for the unlabeled container of white grains?

aha! sugar!

once the batter was finished, you slathered the pan with butter and stuck it in the oven. moving onto making the chocolate buttercream frosting, you sprinkled more sugar from the container into it.

all too soon, the oven beeped and you rushed to take it out. surprisingly, it looked soft and spongy and like an actual, real cake. now more excited than ever, you covered it in the chocolate icing, trying to make it look as pretty as you could.

(the self restraint you had to not dip your finger into the bowl should be studied, truly.)

after thank yous and goodbyes and congratulations that you created something edible were said, you rushed back home in hopes of beating christian. making sure the house was still empty, you carefully take the cake out of the container and arrange it prettily on the counter. sticking a few candles into it, all there is left to do is wait for the birthday boy to come home.

soon enough, you hear the front door open and his footsteps advancing. he’s always had the knack of looking for you, of easily finding you. before you know it, his hands are on your hips and you feel soft lip brushes on your neck. it’s barely a mummer, “hey, you.”

“hey, birthday boy.” you turn around to face him. you cup his face, as he looks down at you fondly. his lovesick smile mirrors yours. it’s useless finding the urge to kiss him silly, thus you satiate yourself. rising to your tiptoes, your hands find themselves combing through his hair as your lips meet his. pulling away after a few moments, you can’t help but laugh when you see him try to follow you. you settle with leaving a trail of kisses all over his face and working your way down to his neck.

hearing him let out a content sigh, you find yourself settling your arms around his waist. mumbling into the crook of his neck, “you’re old.”

when he pouts and argues that he’s young, you retaliate and insist he’s reached grandpa status. this causes him to prove to you how young he is, by chasing you throughout the house. passing hallways and turning corners, the chase leads you both to the kitchen. where low and behold, a pretty chocolate cake sits with candles sticking out of it.

“oh,” upon seeing it, christian stops dead in his tracks. marveling at it, you see his eyes light up and he has the biggest grin on his face. stepping closer to inspect it, “is it from that new place down the street?”

that ‘new place’ was a bakery that had just opened up a few weeks ago. it’s a cozy, picture-perfect bakery that had cakes and pastries lined up along their windows. it’s the type of place where you’d have been able to get a professionally-made chocolate cake guaranteed to taste heavenly.

“uh, no.” you gave him a sheepish grin. feeling very shy, you’re beginning to regret even doing this. you’d been so happy about not fucking up the baking, you hadn’t considered how, maybe, christian would want a big, 5 star cake. you were just so proud of what you’d done! you hate to admit it but you had put love and all that bullshit into it. but, maybe, he did want a cake from an actual bakery. cheeks warming, “I actually made it.”

“y/n,” he whispers. it shouldn’t be physically possible but his smile got even bigger. he looked so handsome. reaching for your hands, he pulls you into his arms. looking down at you with the softest gaze, “you made this? for me?”

all you can do is nod. nerves overtaking your system, “I did, it might not even be that good, i’m sorry it’s not that pretty-”

he shuts you up when he leaves a kiss on each cheek and a few more on your forehead and nose. cupping your face, his thumb begins to stroke your cheek. you feel slightly silly over how fast you lean into his touch.

“oh baby, ‘m so proud of you.” his voice is too soft, and the look he’s giving you isn’t helping. your knees feel like jelly. he’s leaving kisses all over your face now, whispering ‘thank yous’ in between. “this is the best thing you could’ve done for me, thank you, my pretty girl.”

feeling the worry lift from your shoulders, you sigh in relief. solemnly nodding, “I was really careful, so it should taste decent.”

“I bet it’ll taste as great as it looks,” he dips down to leave a kiss on the corner of your mouth. that's when you see that particular glint in his eye. he goes in for another kiss, a deeper one. when he pulls away, the bastard bites your lip. there’s a teasing smile, “but I know it won't taste as sweet as you do.”

later that night, after dinner and gifts and intimate celebrating, you find yourselves seated at the counter.

yes, maybe it tasted like cardboard and the icing had a salty taste instead of sweet one (was the unlabeled container full of salt or sugar? you’re not that sure anymore.)

yes, maybe you both tried swallowing it and smiling through the torture your tastebuds were going through.

yes, maybe you lightly slapped his chest when he told you he felt bad for you guys’ future children. they’re going to think we hate them, he wheezed throughout the laughter.

yes, maybe you both were in hysterics over this bizarre situation and went out to buy a real, edible cake from the nearby bakery. and back home, when you lit a candle on it, you scolded him when he told you what he had wished for. he scooped some icing onto his index finger and smeared it on your cheek. then kissed the other, unaffected cheek. “for every year, to be exactly like this one. I want a salty cake for the rest of my life if it means you’re here.”

“hey!” you pouted. getting some icing yourself, you dragged it across his nose and curved it down to his upper lip. “the wishes don’t come true if you tell people, you know.”

he pondered this for a second, “well I was going to wish for you to get some cooking lessons but who would bake me a salty cake, huh?”

“haha,” you deadpan. leaving another kiss on his cheek, “you think you’re such a comedian, grandpa.”

i personally love a good birthday sheet cake from the grocery store. feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you!

[gojosbf]

why do you think that female char are no longer well written on jjk? /genq (i am caught up with the manga so don't worry about spoilers)

SPOILERS AHEAD!!! for me all of this began with nobara's death and it went downhill from there, now see I understand it might've been important to give yuuji motivation etc but when a roach naoya get's to survive again and again after getting killed but there is no hope for nobara who was one touch kill and had chances of survival but doesn't purely for shock factor, it doesn't sit right with me.

Okay, ignore even that maybe it's my attachment to the character talking so let's talk about other female characters: most of the fandom forgets momo exists that's how useless he made her, she suffered no serious damage (not as far as I remember) and her only active role was in kyoto goodwill arc and an appearance in shibuya we barely see her after that.

Gege treats female characters as a catalyst for mcs, either they're completely useless or get killed off or even if they're powerful enough they're barely mentioned or shown doing something useful.

Example for catalyst: We literally never really see Utahime in action except in Shinjuku Battle to boost Gojo's ct. Like really? That's your semi grade 1 sorcerer and all throughout the manga that was her only role?

Example for completely useless: I already talked about momo, lets about miwa okay, she put her everything to that one swing post-shibuya against kenjaku only for him to deflect it with his bare hands and what about her after that? Nothing!! She gave up everything and now she cannot do anything, just another cheap tactic to get rid of another useful character.

Example for killed: Listen I will accept Mai's death because it served the purpose and was one of the most impressive parts but other than that? Yuki Tsukumo, the special grade, the star plasma that rejected even tengen and cornered kenjaku, her death was so anticlimactic and unsatisfactory, she was practically winning but apparently "a miscalculation" caused her death, listen I like a shocking plot twist and death but that seemed like nothing but an excuse to get rid of another strong female character because gege had no idea how he'd use her in future.

More example for catalyst: Tsumiki and Yorozu (aka the same body but!) she was such a driving force for Megumi but after Culling Game arc hit we got a tease of her (or them) and that provided more motivation for megumi to fix things to work harder to bring his sister back but instead of seeing more of her gege killed her off after sukuna took over megumi's body because her purpose was served!! Done. She was there as long as she could be used as a beacon of hope for our poor boy.

Example of if powerful then they're barely shown: Shoko and Mei Mei, we know both of them are quite capable, they've proved their worth and aside from the fact that Mei Mei is a fucking pedophile she's still a great sorcerer but now she doesn't care about sorcerers and henceforth isn't present/doesn't provide much or any help at all other than the telecast. Shoko on the other hand, we're supposed to believe that her using rct is special and she's one of the most important characters mind you she's the part of the og trio but we rarely get to see her. Even know (the up to date manga chapters) they keep talking about taking the injured sorcerers to shoko but they never !! show !! her !! in !! action !! Like c'mon she's been working overtime but SOMEHOW gege can't dedicate more than four panels to her?

Now onto Maki, the only one standing, the only female character gege truly utilised gave her one heck of goal and arc and then very conveniently forgot her for next 100 chapters. She's great yes, and gege's finally back to currently giving her the attention she deserves which I am very skeptical about because if he just kills her off in next chapter to make a statement istg...but everytime she's mentioned they HAVE to mention toji, it's almost like she'll never leave his shadow, all her achievements are boiled down to FEMALE TOJI which, don't get me wrong I love toji but she's more than that, she's a monster because she wiped out a whole clan not because she shares same superhuman powers as her predecessor and dare I say she's already surpassed toji at this point.

Let's not forget Uro and Angel/Hana whom gege brought in once for one job and then we all completely forgot about them. (I am mentioning them last because he's done this with many other characters so they're truly not an unique case in that sense)

Returning back to when jjk first was fairly new and we had these panels

it was hype we thought FINALLY!!!! she doesn't denounce her femininity but isn't used as a fan service material through them either and she's fucking nuts and strong FINALLY!!! only for gege to go well now that you've had the crumbs you're getting neither, not the pretty ones nor the strong ones and even if they're strong I am going to act like they don't exist so have fun!! And that's why I think he's really downgraded.

[switchbladedreamz]

I Want You, Dumbass.

He owns my entire soul.

Requested?: nah

Rating: R, once again lots of cursing. Bc its fun

Summary: Logan has his eyes pried open, figuratively, a little perspective forced onto him by Charles. It helps him see things for what they really are. For who you really are.

PLS REBLOG IT HELPS ALL BLOGS GROW🥰 COMMENT AND LIKE🫀

~~~~Logan's Point of View, 5:08am

Ripping off the sheet and blanket that cover me, my skin pebbles in goosebumps from the new chill in the air. "God damn it." I huff out quietly into the dark. I tossed and turned all night. Can't get decent shut eye. I turn to lay on my side. Staring in the darkness where my closed door would be. For five hours I've tried and failed to sleep. No matter how hard I will with closed eyes it never comes. All I can think about is her. For once I'm not thinking about Jean.. It's her. Y/n. It feels different when I think about her. 'Did I fuck it all up? What have I done..' These are the thoughts that have plagued me while sleep is nowhere to be found. I have class in three hours but I can't ...I can't bring myself to care right now. 'Why did I have to ask her out? Was it on purpose that I overheard their conversation? No, that's stupid.' I don't really believe in fate. Y/n and I had a perfectly good chummy coworker thing and I just had to go and blow it all up. Jesus fucking Christ when will I learn. 'once..just once can I have something..real. Do I even know what I want? I know what I don't want.. No Striker, no old friends' granddaughters, no having a boyfriend when we meet.' I beat myself up for who knows how long when 'bbbbrrrrriiinng bbbrrriiiingg bbrrr-'. My alarm pulls me out of the self-pity parade I had grown comfortable in for the past..well when I realized I couldn't sleep nine hours ago. Another day, another dollar, another student turned into a scholar.

"Alright everybody, I want those papers on my desk by 8 am next class Thursday morning. And no wikipedia! Okay, class dismissed." The students scramble out of their chairs, feet scuffling quickly across the floor. They can't get out fast enough. Heh. 'alone again.' thoughts creep in from the shadowy parts of my consciousness. 'aaah self pity, the oldest pain in my ass.'

Pacing back and forth in the empty classroom. I cant help but rewind the events of the last three days in my head. Over and over like the world's worst rollercoaster. Karma is hanging my ass out to dry. Like a dumbass I asked my coworker out and it backfired only to find out she has feelings for me. That was three days ago. The next day I found the only bar in town worth a fuck burned down. All that is left is a damn charred husk of load bearing beams and an empty parking lot. Oh I can't forget that a new student whose...gift...is acid spit and lunch did not agree with her so guess who got sprayed with acid puke and hotdogs in the middle of a lesson about World War II. It hurt like a bitch. And the fucking cherry on top of this sundae is that Jean and Scott are getting married. They announced their engagement last night. Cheers to the happy couple.

Jesus. Here I am goin on and on lamenting as if I could do anything to fix these problems. Except the first one, I'll admit. Charles enters the room. Hank, who usually is one step behind him is nowhere to be found. "Anything I can do to help Logan?" My head snaps towards. A growl at the bottom of my throat. I can feel my back muscles flexing like hackles raising on a cat. I need to calm down. "Charles I told you to stay outta my head." He looks at me with pity..i hate that fuckin look in his eyes.

"You're practically broadcasting your thoughts all over the school. I didn't need to use my power to know what you're thinking." I sigh heavily and sit down. "In any case", Charles continues, "I'd like to help with your troubles with Ms. L/n. Or at the very least make sure you don't pace a track into the hardwood floor." The quiet whir of his chair is an oddly comforting sound. My elbows brace on my knees as my head falls heavily into my hands. "What do I do?" I hate feeling vulnerable. "Apologize to Y/n, she's a forgiving person..within reason. Let the chips fall where they may afterwards. Oh, and Lilly feels terrible about the incident in class today. She asked me to pass on her apologies, sweet girl. As for Scott and Jean, put on a brave face as always." My head quirks up. "Really? A brave face? That's all the advice the acclaimed Professor Xavier has?" I scoff. What a help. "It's what you always do when it comes to those two and it's all you can do.....She's made her choice." Charles' voice softens at the end. Her choice. Her choice. It's never me. I look at her and it doesn't even feel the same any more and it pisses me off. I feel nothing when she looks at me. And that's what makes me burn. "Logan have you ever considered the difference in the way you're seen by Jean and Y/n?" My head raises, my confusion pours out through my question, "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, Jean... She sees your exterior. The illusions, the gruff-cigar-smoking-bad-boy-who-listens-to-no-one. But if that were true..you wouldn't be here. Even I have my limits and tolerances. If you truly didn't care about anyone or anything but yourself as Jean may believe then what are you doing here? I'm not questioning your place here but rather putting things into perspective. Now as for how Y/n sees you. She sees a kind man with a big heart who keeps people at arms length and hurts them before they have a chance to hurt you. That's how I see you. We can see the great man you are yet to become. Now who do you think is more deserving of your time? Lastly perhaps consider the fact that Y/n did not reject you because she doesn't want you, but she wants you so much she couldnt use you to hurt herself because of the love she holds for herself. Did that make sense? Anyways what I'm trying to say is that it was an act of self-preservation." I look at Charles. I really look at him, studying the expression on his face as his words process. There's nothing in his voice that indicates blame, deceit, judgement. He's simply trying to help me. I've made my decision. "Thanks, professor. See ya around" I get up from the chair and as I walk past Xavier I pat his shoulder, "You too Logan." he responds.

I'm laying on my bed. Charles' advice ruminates in my mind while I pull in a drag of smoke off the cigar between my fingers. Debating if I should have a drink or not. Then I remembered the bar burned down...... Well ..shit.

~~~~

All I've thought about since last night is how i could apologize. One thing I respect about Y/n is she's straight forward, so I figure thats how she would want me to approach this. In a few strides I cross the wide hall, before I have a chance to overthink I'm knocking on Y/n's door. 'We alternate days for history, she's gotta be here somewhere but if they're not in here I don't know where-' my thoughts are interrupted by the door opening and the scent of dahlias invades my senses. "Oh hi, what can I do for you Logan?" I notice her glasses slide up her nose as her head tilts up to make eye contact with me. There's music playing in the background. "Uhm" at a loss for words, I turn my head right and look down the hallway then left at the stairs. "Can we talk?" She nods and opens the door wider for me. After closing the door I watch her walk across the room, pausing the sounds of thrashing guitars and double kick drums from the speaker by the open window.

"Well look what the cat dragged in. You know I didn't take you for the groveling type but you look pretty on your knees." My mind blanks, ..out of all the different ways I'd imagined they'd react. "W-wh..uh" i fumbled to find a response. Her head falls back and she laughs "Oh darlin' I knew you couldn't resist me."

I half laugh half wheeze, not expecting this to be her reaction. "Y/n. I came to apologize. I'm real sorry about the other day--"

"Oh its fine, theres no need to apologize. Really. So you fucked up, and I've heard about the awful past few days you've had. I'd say your reckoning has been wrought." There's a shit eating grin on her face. "Hmm. So now what?" I ask, too damn confused. Y/n replies "How about you take a few days to figure what you want then get back to me." I look at her, "get back to you? That's it?" She huffs out a chuckle. "Yep. Simple as that. Figure out what you really want, when you get back to me we'll see if what it is the either wants and if it lines up together. You know, like adults."

"And what is it that you want?" Mischief and longing sparkle in here eyes, framed by the lenses of her glasses. "I want you, dumbass. I want a real relationship." I walk over to her, standing in front of her. She looks up at me. "Is this few days thing mandatory?" My hand touches her bicep. She glanced at my hand then up to my face. " 'fraid so darlin" I chuckle, "Well I'll see you in a few days then."

~~~

Sorry it's so short!! Please enjoy🖤🖤

[screamingcrows]

Taken Care of - Cyno x fem reader

Note: Never let me live down that my first piece of fanfiction (not counting the awful slow burn Sylvanas x Jaina from Warcraft I made as a 13 year old) was for Cyno more than a year ago for the explicit purpose of cracking a joke. I've since edited a bit, and felt like uploading it here to have my writing in one spot, consider this an updated version. Tags: fem!reader, crackfic, pun so bad I got hate anons, reader is a student, reader has a dendro vision, established relationship, suggestive at the end, fluff

It was your first time venturing further into the desert than Aaru village, and you had honestly been dreading this trip ever since it became clear that you would have to go on it. The scorching heat made you wish that you could've either kept your mouth shut or at the very least swallowed your pride and backed out. 

All you had wanted to do, was pick a poorly understood subject for your thesis. Not an unreasonable wish by any means. Being an Amurta student, you'd practically had your ears cried full of withering zones and the different families of fungi. And you'd had enough of that, not wanting to spend your entire life studying some obscure detail just for your research to be 'new'. 

So you'd pitched an idea to your supervisor, you wanted to investigate what effect proximity to an oasis had on the evolutionary path of scarabs. After some bickering back and forth, they had agreed to let you pursue this, but under the condition that you were willing to change subject if you'd made no substantial progress within two months. It had now been one month and the only discovery you'd made was, that the literature on scarabs, or anything from the desert really, was sparse at best.

That's how you ended here, boots full of sand, dry skin, probably a good sunburn, and more than a little bitter. But samples wouldn't collect themselves, and a field trip was the only way around your lack of reference material. You rubbed at your tired eyes, regretting it immediately when sand got into them. 

At least Cyno had offered to escort you, not liking the thought of anyone else being responsible for your safety. Of course, as soon as rumor spread that the General Mahamatra was taking leave to escort a student around the desert, you were met with more than a little malice from your peers. You'd done what you could to keep the relation subtle, but avoiding all suspicion was impossible. 

The first morning out of Aaru village you woke to an unfamiliar sight. What appeared to be a mercenary standing with their back towards you, Cyno's jackal helmet laying discarded in the sand.

"What did you do to the white haired man? Speak, or I will set you ablaze!" Your voice shook more than what you'd have like as you scrambled to get up, it would have to do.

"A single night, and already my precious flower has turned into a cactus" 

As always, Cyno's voice was even, but you had known him far too long to not notice the subtle hint of amusement in his tone. When he turned to face you, the satisfied smirk he wore only fueled your annoyance at his antics.

"And what would you have done if I decided to attack first and ask questions later?"

"My flower, you have a dendro vision... Explain to me how you plan on charring me? Regardless, I do feel confident in my ability to dodge a sleepy student in uneven terrain." 

"Fine. Just warn me before you pull such a tasteless prank again" 

"This? No.. I.. I mean... I heard what they were saying behind your back. This way, you can say that your escort was just another mercenary." 

You noticed a light flush across his cheeks, and with that all your irritation dissipated. 

The second day went smoothly, Cyno surprisingly being able to guide you to many groupings of scarabs, sheepishly explaining that he had always found them fascinating.

By the third day in the dunes, you were both tired. Cyno kept insisting that he would keep watch for most of the night so that you could be well rested for your fieldwork. He was undoubtedly hiding the exhaustion better than you, but the slight drag of his feet as you walked towards the next observation spot gave him away. 

That and how he had been cursing at his hair for getting in his eyes all morning. You couldn't help but giggle at the memory of the oh-so-dignified General Mahamatra fumbling about in the morning sun, swatting at his hair while threatening to cut it off unless it behaved. He had undoubtedly thought you asleep.

"If you have breath to spare on laughing, we should be going faster" his voice sounded like he had been inhaling sand instead of air. You couldn't help the whine that left your lips at the thought of your already tired legs picking up the pace.

"Cyno, I'm just a feeble scholar, I wasn't made for field work"

This statement caused him to stop dead in his tracks and turn around with a wicked grin.

"Really? Because in my experience-" 

You cut him off by slapping a hand over his mouth, already knowing his next words. A small shiver crept down your spine feeling how dry his lips had become. Looking into his eyes, his exhaustion became increasingly clear to you. He'd been working himself half to death before going with you, and this clearly wasn't the break you had hoped it would be for him.

"We are stopping at the next oasis we reach. Research be damned, I need a rest,"

Convincing him to stop was easier than you'd imagined. The determination in your voice having no doubt helped, even if he didn't know the underlying reason for the sudden outburst. You plopped down with your back against a palm, closing your eyes and relishing in the shade the overhanging leaves provided. As you opened your eyes, a deep frown settled on your lips, there your idiot was, standing guard in the sun. 

Gently pressing a hand to the trunk behind you, you decided to not give him the opportunity of refusing a rest. The roots sprung to life and crept towards your beloved General. In one fell swoop they wrapped around his ankles and pulled, causing him to fall to the ground. He merely let out an exasperated groan and did his best to flip onto his back to avoid getting a mouthful of sand. 

As he came to rest with his head in your lap the roots gently untangled themselves from his golden skin and disappeared back into the sandy ground. You wasted no time gaining access to his white mane of hair as you started gently scratching at his scalp. Cyno practically purred at the action, letting his eyes remain closed, it was almost obscene to watch as his face contorted until a peaceful expression finally settled in his features. 

"You are a wicked, wicked woman," he couldn't fight the smile on his lips even as he tried to sound stern. Your only response was a soft kiss to his cheek, only serving to have him melt further into your soft form. 

"If anyone sneaks up on us I am blaming you," this time his tone was more serious, but with the sleepy expression on his face you only rolled your eyes at him and mumbled a quick apology.

"Worry not General, I'll keep watch while you rest" as you gave him a final pat on the head, you moved to get up, only to be met with Cyno holding you down with an impressive amount of strength given his state. A hand snaked up your body and closed around one of your breasts, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Don't go, it seems we have plenty of securi-titty"

You sat back down in utter shock, remaining completely quiet as you tried to process the words that had left his mouth.

"Ahem. You see, I took the words security and ti-" You cut him off with a loud snort followed by laughter.

"It seems you will be to blame if we are ambushed General," Your amused tone made his ears take on a reddish tint. Cyno looked up at you with eyes full of adoration.

"For this, I am willing to take the chance of being caught unaware" 

He grabbed your hips and pulled until you were laying next to each other. After a little while in silence, Cyno's breathing evened out as he fell into a light sleep. A content sigh passed your lips as you settled against him, satisfied with the outcome. 

[jackiequick]

Meet more of the family, Miss Stark & The Youngest Barnes | Marvel OC

———

Liv Stark ⌚️

Full name: Olivia Charlotte Stark-Vega

Nicknames: Liv, Vi, Lottie, Lola, Clary, Char, Charlie, Miss Vega, Snark Central

Age range: 5-18

Height: 5’1

Relationship status: Single

Background: American with Peruvian, Polish and Italian descent

Father: Anthony Stark

Godmother: Elizabeth Stark

Godfather: Jason Underwood

Brother & Sister: Rei and Morgan Stark

Step-mom: Pepper Potts

Uncles: James Rhodes, Happy Hogan & rest of The Avengers

Abilities: A bit of geek and hacker due to her love of technology, basic hand to hand combat since she enjoys boxing and her witty personality. She’s young so she hasn’t gotten plenty of skills yet.

Personality: Liv has a smart touch, gentle soul, sweet, charming and easy going. She is a bit of a bitchy girl and stubborn about everything she does. If she wants to do something, she will probably sneak out to get it done. She got a some of anxiety and a nervous twitch (which would grow over the years since Liv is afraid of being alone and in the dark about a lot of things), this creeping fear and sadness that will take over her if not careful.

- However Liv is very accident prone, she’s always getting hurt one way or another, giving everyone an heart attack since the age of 9 since she’s always been a active little girl. So in result she give Tony and something for Rei to roll his eyes about.

- From an young age, she has always been into tech, jewelry and over all. Wanting to build and grow a her own little things, she was a Stark it’s a given! She watched a lot of movies so she got creative with her ideas.

- Random fun fact, one of her favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, just because she likes Kat Stratford’s aesthetic and attitude. But it’s many Action Movies and Rom-Coms that she will watch with Pepper, that she enjoyed. It’s where she gets her inspiration for things.

- She adored the idea staying in the lab, tinkering and cleaning up the inventions that were made. She practically lived in there, staying home to help and learn. It caused never want to leave that house in general, having a bit of mouth on her after hearing the adults always speak their minds (so don’t be surprised this girl start rambling and throws out whatever bullshit that appears in her thoughts), but it allowed her to be a safe within those four walls.

- It didn’t take long for her to start filling up a notebook with designs on how to incorporate technology into fine jewelry (aka The Stark Watch, necklaces to tracking and security measures, bracelets to be use for defense purposes and rings can be transformed into gauntlet). 

- She’s always been bit of business women! Wanting to create products to help people, keeping an eye on things from behind the scenes, represent and model for Stark industries and such. 

- But she was still so young, so her parents and siblings didn’t want her to grow up so soon in the spotlight of it. She’s a kid! And she understood that, it bothered her but she understood why. So she stays hoping her time could come where she can help out the group.

—> Because little did she know that theses little gadgets and gizmos that would be incorporated into the ideas her father and older brother would use as fashion purposes in the future with their own suits. Aka they’re Iron Man suits!

—> I know you may be wondering about her family life, well Liv raised well per say. She had to move around a lot as a child, especially since Tony never wanted the public attention to be on her just yet and her mother wasn’t sure that she would taken care of. It took convincing from Pepper and Jason to let her stay home with them, so everything was fine after that.

Her relationship with her father was an nice one. When it comes to parenting his kids, Tony was a rather dramatic, embarrassingly loud at times, a little cocky and stubborn parent per day, so it’s a bit difficult to get him to calm down and talk softly with him. Tony cares a lot about his children, having Rei and Liv to take care of but he was always busy with the company having to arrive home late, events he had to attend and ending up being tired.

Other than that, he tried to make time for his son and daughter, bringing them to the lab and everywhere he could. Even if he got in trouble afterwards. Tony always tries to inspire his daughter to do what she loves and experience things, be caring, make sure she was alright too and etc. But they make it work!

Ohh, did I forget to mention how annoying and protective Tony can be as a parent? He will take everything very seriously or not serious at all, acting out if something goes wrong and he tends to be questioning his motives. Even blaming himself if something bad were to happen to his family. Tell Tony Stark you have a crush? He sends JARVIS to keep an eye on you. Ask Tony for something like a new backpack for school? He buys you something else.

In his defense, he does everything with so much love (even if he doesn’t always portray it in the best way).

Her relationship with Rei however—you wouldn’t think it but rather wholesome, since she’s the little sister he never exactly wanted. They were completely opposite to one another, he’s grumpy and she’s easygoing, he rather work alone in silence and she rather work with music blasting and etc. But as much as Rei may be annoyed and want to throw his little sister out of the house, deep down he cares about her, even though he didn’t show it to her very often and he’s very protective of her ever since he was a child.

Rei and their father, always trying to keep Liv out of harms way and safe at home. Even if they tend to fail at times.

Since Tony was always busy, Rei tends to be one to look out for Liv and keep her in check, being her personal bodyguard for everything she does. If it was up to him, Rei would wrap his baby sister in bubble wrap and not let her leave the house!!

When they were kids (and even now) Liv would follow Rei wherever he went and wanting to copy him, be like her big brother because he always around the corner with something snarky to say to her and a huge potty mouth (it resulted in her having a huge attitude as well). She will always be the one to encourage Rei’s designs for suits and talk to dad about something.

He talks and she will absolutely love to listen to him (even if 85% of the time she has no idea what he’s talking, cause he’s smarter than her at a lot of things.)

Sometimes you will find Liv in a moody way shutting everyone out of her room and just curled up in a ball, similar to brother and to be honest, it concerns Rei a bit when it happens. But he would probably try to snap her out of it, even not he will let her be in her moody moments. He knows how it is

At the end of the day, no matter how different they were with one another and the paths they choose, they cared in their own way. Even if when they’re public, they act like they don’t know one another.

—> As for her relationship with the Avengers and Young Avengers! Ooof let’s stick to first impressions, shall we?

She met all of them when she just a child, joining Rei and Tony on a simple basis day with the group. She first started watching her father talking with Bruce Banner, and she took a liking to him very much seeing how nice, gentle and reserved he can be. But there an edge to him, that she found to be cool.

As for when she met Rick, it was when him and Rei were chatting. Her first impression of him, to her the young man is that he looked like a old school Disney Channel Star with a nice smile and warmth, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

So when she saw Bruce, Rick, Rei and Tony all work together in their own separate labs blasting music so loudly..the only thing Vi said, “Oh no, there’s 4 of them!”

When she met Natasha, she just cool and rather chill per say acting like the nonsense agent with a soft side. Romanoff’s daughter on the other hand, she was just curious about her and Vi liked that.

Same thing goes for Clint and his daughter, they were just cool people. She was always amazed with the skills they had, and a part of her always knew that Clint Barton was a family man. And she was right, when they appeared at the Barton’s Barn years later.

Meira and Luna were just so relaxed, gentle and sweet girls. She adored how they acted with their teammates and siblings, especially Meira since she was a little sister just like her. Sweet and snarky.

Ethan was just super chill and suspicious of everything, Rei didn’t like him and carried Vi alway from from very quickly. Cole was just so mischievous, snarky smile and tossing jokes every day, making Vi laugh or snort. But a part of her respected him greatly, cause she heard he was VERY powerful.

Liane, well she didn’t like her right away. She annoyed Olivia very quickly and she sent painful glared toward the girl who tried to make friends with her. After a while she softened toward Ms Felton, but it took a long time cause she saw Rei didn’t like her either.

——

Daphnia Barnes-Wilson 🪫

Full name: Daphnia Ramona Wilson-Barnes 

Nicknames: Daphne, Nia, Daph, DD, Sparky, Daffy, Fifi, Birdie,

Other name while on the run: Davina, Robin

Age range: 7–20

Height: 5’7

Relationship status: Single

Parents: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson

Background: American with Mexican and Chilean Origin

Aunt: Sarah Wilson

Uncle: Steve Rogers

Sister: Laurie Wilson

Brother: Benjamin Barnes

Abilities: Marksmanship and Acrobatics, having took some gymnastics classes. She’s also a bit of a fast learner so she’s fluent in English, Spanish, Russian, Portuguese and some French.

Personality: Gentle, a little broken due to being let down a lot in life, warm-hearted, clumsy, a bit shy and humorous at times. But if she’s anything like her fathers, she’s stubborn enough, a little self-sacrificing, and willingly to help no matter what.

- Sam and Bucky have been together for a while now, since their chemistry was a challenging one it always hard to settle down and figure out what they want. However a house, family and future for their kids was always one of them.

- They already had Laurie and Benjamin, so they thought two kids was enough as it is. But things took a small turn when they stumble at a orphanage in Brazil for a mission and met this no named little girl who gave both of them the most honest smile.

- Sam has always been one to have a big heart, so wanting a big family was always part of that. So his heart spoke before his words ever could, wanting to adopt her. Bucky Barnes on the other hand was a little hesitant—well more like worried—about the whole thing, he always wanted a little piece of normalcy and he got it with Sam and their kids. But adding a 3rd? That was a lot of responsibility, but he caved as soon as he hung out with the girl.

- To be honest, they saw a bit of themselves in her. So she was adopted when she less than 10 years old and brought into a family of oddly comforting heroes. They named gave her a name and did everything they could to make her feel comfortable. Welcomed.

—> So Davina (or Daphne) as they called her grow up with her parents and siblings. As loved as she was, she always felt alone and feared that it will all be taken away from her. Especially with the fact that her parents were heroes themselves, there was always a chance that they can end up hurt or worse, if not careful.

- But Bucky always made sure to tell her and every single one of his children, “Don’t worry, I’ll always come back home to you guys, no matter how long it takes.” And Sam would tell them, “You’re our kids, we will always love you and be there to tuck you in bed whenever we can.”

- Sometimes they would be gone for 2-3 days, maybe a week or a whole month leaving the kids in care of family and friends. Laurie was the oldest of the siblings, so they could handle themselves very well and or sneak off to join the fight ending with them in trouble. Benjamin being the second oldest, so he rather stay behind during the fight and stay with his sisters and friends.

- Speaking of fights and travel, when if plenty say battle isn’t place for children. Sometimes Sam and Bucky had no choice but to bring there kids with them to places like Wakanda, Stark Tower, France and or let’s say Germany for instance. Even though it was a hassle to bring children along for the ride, it was an interesting learning experience and a way to test out their kids

- And to be honest, Daph and her siblings enjoy it a little too much. Cracking jokes, running around, exploring different places and meeting interesting people, and creating new ideas among one another. It was a field trip for them sometimes.

-> And if your wondering, yes Daphnia is team #HateJohnWalker! When she found out, she was ready to take her baseball bat and wack his head with it, demanding the Shield back with a glare. Bucky couldn’t be more prouder of her in that moment laughing, meanwhile Sam rolled his eyes unable to believe what he heard.

- Random fun fact, she played baseball before she was ever adopted and had really good aim, depending on where she was hitting. It was a trait her siblings carried on as well, especially Benjamin even if he was more reserved one, he had a great aim.

- She always loved any sport that involves movement and play, soccer being one of them (since she lived in Brazil for a while). She liked to think she was rather talented when it came to that, even if she was a problem when it came to being around other kids, having a small temper and glaring at other people. Mainly, it was her insecurity that she hid underneath her own glares. 

- Matter a fact all the kids were talented in their own way ever since they were younger. Daphne when she was very little, believed at the time that she didn’t have any good talents and wasn’t as smart enough as it is. Until Sam took her out to the shopping and noticed that she stopped in front of small gymnastics building with wide eyes, softly grinning at the sight. She pleaded for him to let her walk in and see the girls, he nodded letting her watch. As she did, Daph realized she wanted to join in on the fun and dance as well. Sam couldn’t stop himself and called Bucky for his opinion on it.

- She started her classes soon enough and enjoyed it for the most part, her body was rather sore after some classes. So she wasn’t too happy about that part. When Bucky told Nat about it, the Russian spy came in shocked and said, “If she wanted to learn some acrobatics, why didn’t you come to me or Lydia? Barton would’ve showed her!” 

- Bucky just rolled his eyes and replied, “Cause she wanted that to be her own thing. And it doesn’t hurt to have some normalcy around her, Romanoff. I think it’s a good thing..” And Bucky was right about that, since he loved seeing his husband and children happy, enjoying themselves and having a break from the hero world. Hell, he goes to every talent show, buys items needed and participates in whatever is needed. Even if he’s not too happy about it at first.

- Of course as much as acrobatics were her own thing and all she ever wanted to do, so she can have that skill set. That didn’t stop the idea of having good marksmanship in her left corner, she was already good with a baseball bat and Bucky was more than happy to show the basics of how to hold/use a gun to his kids. Sam wasn’t too pleased about that idea though saying, “They’re too young!”

- And to be honest, Daph was pretty good with a gun. Swinging it swiftly and tossing the gun in her hands, holding it up to her target (which was an old target board hanging outside nearby the trees). However that didn’t mean she didn’t play around with the gun at first, holding in her hands and pretending to be a spy. “Barnes, but you can call Agent Daphnia Wilson, at your service.” She said with a giggle, humoring herself.

- Daph was always a little silly, cocky and daring. Not thinking first and asking questions later kinda gal—oops! So it lead her to getting in trouble sometimes, breaking certain curfews if she out at the movies with a friend (like with one of the young avengers), being a little lazy about things and running away from her problems like a champ. But by the end of the day, she was good girl.

-> Speaking of Young Avengers and Older Avengers. You’re probably wondering who’s her favorites are and first impression were of the teams huh? Well, here are your answers.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff were a given to being liked by her, due to her parents being friends with them. I mean come on, they are basically Captain America, The Black Widow and the rest of Cap’s Quarter.

Moving down the list Thor was always a silly man to her, hearing stories how he speaks in old English and is very noble when it comes to the things that he does. According to the stories from Sam, he was a rather loud fella with a good heart.

Clint Barton, she took a liking too finding his simple ways of life and honest charm to be a nice thing to see. Plus Clint has a similar murder stare to Bucky, so it was funny to see their resting faces when they’re in the same room together.

The man, the myth, the legend himself (or that’s at least what people like to say) Tony Stark was always one of a kind. She was very nervous to meet all of The Avengers, one of them being Stark having seen how the persona he displayed on TV screens and the stories. But in reality, Tony was just a genius goof with snarky humor, so it lighten up her mood.

It was like Bruce Banner sensed her nervousness from a mile away since she appeared in The Tower. He noticed the child behind Sam Wilson holding her jacket, leaned down to her level to kindly introduce himself to the girl and watching parents reactions. Soon enough, with Bucky leaning against the wall with a nod of encouragement, Daph started talking to Bruce with such softness and gentleness.

As for the rest of them, she met them some time later. The Young Avengers. She met the Stark siblings, Rei wasn’t in the lightest mood having no like the idea of meeting Barnes or Wilson’s kids but Olivia gave her a warm welcome and waved at her before rushing off to meet her friends at the mall.

Natasha Romanoff’s daughter Rochelle was kind enough to show her and her siblings around, chatting with them knowing it felt to be the new kids. Daph liked her reddish hair and kind smile.

Liane was something else, having been on a rambling mess when she met Daph and trying to figure out what to do with her plans. Laurie laughed as her sister snicker at the blonde, meanwhile Benji just rolled his eyes confused wanting to get away from there.

Meira was and will always be a delight to meet, since Daphnia met her that same week in The Tower’s kitchen and taste testing her new batch of cookies. They were delicious.

Speaking of food, when Daphnia met Rick she got the same warmth and kindness she remembered from being Bruce. But this time it involved snacks and jokes around his week at The Tower, she was all ears listening to him as they entered the kitchen to find some chicken nuggets.

Cole and Luna, it was more magic and fun spells when she came to see them. The two were casting some spills, when she got caught in one of them being turned into a little mouse by accident. Cole laughed as Luna worried, but they turned her back to normal soon enough.

Ethan was the 3rd sibling she met, and she thanked all the Stars and Stripes that it was a simple meeting. He was watching a movie, being Monsters Inc. when she met him the guy joining The Young Avengers for a movie night.

———

I hope you liked it and thank you for taking your time to read this!

If you want to know anything about theses OCs, let me know in the comments below.

Please like, comment, share and reblog if you like.

Tags: @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @msrochelleromanofffelton @mallowbee4 @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @whitewiccan @rooster-84 @parisparker269 @sherloquestea @starkleila @meiramel @blueboirick and etc



[empressgeekt]

you know what would be a interesting au

the events of burning branches happen except the wedding proposal letter happens like a day or two before the Biggest loudest Crazies party ever

Well, if Char were around during the party attack, he would not be alone. They're would be Rockers around and I think they would take the Chef down, and help relocate the Pop tribe to a closer forest area to Rock territory.

However if She did get away with the snack-pack, Char would follow Poppy because it's clear she has ZERO survival skills. During the journey they learn a lot about each other.

"I really don't understand why you're so against hug time."

"It's because it feels insincere. Like Hugs should be something special, when someone needs it. Not scheduled. And I'm not used to strangers touching me."

"*gasp* you don't hug your' friends! That's so sad!"

"What? no. I hug my friends but it's not one the hour, and my friends aren't just random people in the streets."

"You aren't friends with everyone in your village?"

"I can't. There's over 5000 people just in the main city alone. Too many to know personally and get stuff done."

"But you do you take care of them if you don't know them?"

"Majority vote."

"But wouldn't that mean that some of them won't be happy with the plan."

"Yeah, the needs of the many out weight the needs of the few."

"Could you just find a way to make them all happy."

"Sometimes, but in some cases you can't. Why are you so concerned with how happy they are anyway."

"Uhm duh! That's the job of the king or Queen, keeping the people happy! Is that not how it works for Rock trolls?"

"No, the crown's job is to keep people safe, secure and stable."

"So, was Creek right and you guys can't feel happy?"

"We can feel happy, it's just we have other things to worry about over our next thrill trip, and don't trust anything Creek says about us. If you have questions about MY culture you can ask me, and not the guy who calls us barbarians."

"Creek was just joking when he called you that!"

"You mean racism to you is joking around. You're lucky it wasn't Val who over heard that."

"It's not racism!"

"Poppy! he's been calling our traditions and beliefs, savage and backwards. How would you like it if someone some tried to tell you you're music and holidays suck and you should practice there holidays! You know it was exactly this that led to the Great string war."

"String war? They fought over he strings? Dad told me that all the tribe went their separate ways amicably."

"OH...my ozzy..."

It's a very enlightening trip.

Char is fighting an odd buzzy migraine from the moment of they enter Bergentown. He mutters a prayer to Ozzy when they watch Creek get "eaten", Char may not like the guy, but no one deserves that fate. And he pities Bridget for the mistreatment she has but he has trolls to free. His future wife continues to baffle him, with the belief that Creek was still alive and then making a deal with bridget, and that that deal sends his headcahe over the edge.

Poppy is too happy befriending Bridget to notice Char's state until Bridget asks if someone was wrong with him. When Poppy turns to to find Char passed out on the ground twitching, she's panicking. Was he sick? Was this normal for Rock trolls?

During the fit Char sees the Chef grab a elder troll with mint colored hair while the feeling of falling over took his body. He was grateful the seizure was a quick one, since Poppy looked really freaked out once his vision cleared. He shows his scar and explains the head wound, and seizure condition. They let him take a short nap while they get Bridget ready since they were worried for him.

Poppy and Bridget would gossip about boys, Poppy wanting to know all the details about Bridget's love for the Bergen king while they get her ready. Poppy tells her about how Char is her fiance, and Bridget wants to know all about that. "So, he came across the world to marry you and save his people? he sounds very brave." "Yea...I guess he is."

When Creek's betrayal happens, He tells the chef all about the Rock tribe, and Char threatens to kill him!

At the end, Barb and the other Rock trolls barge in to save everyone...right after peace is made.

[karatekels]

Valek TIG. Reader is Jack’s daughter (18+). The church put the cross at a church at a catholic boarding school for slayer’s children in training to be future slayers, trying to keep everything that needed guarding together. But in reality Valek is able to get the cross and a definite reason to keep Jack engaged in the fight. What would be better than turning Jack’s only family against him. Enemies to lovers.

I'm SO excited to finally get to this one! I hope that it's worth the wait - I'm anticipating it to be 4 chapters in total, and this is definitely going to be the shortest one.

TW: Indoctrination by the Catholic Church, implied death, blood (very minor... for now)

---

Heirloom - Chapter 1

---

Deep in the centre of Tuscany sits the medieval town of Monteriggioni, perched on a hill and surrounded by high stone walls. A centuries-old fortress, it has long been a place of protection for its allies, and can become fully self-sufficient during times of trouble.

It has been operating as a self-sufficient town for decades now, its gardens plentiful.

While official records claim a population of ten thousand, the number of people living in this little city fluctuates like the ebb and flow of a powerful tide.

The comings and goings of its occupants are a well-kept secret, known only to those who are allowed access to the city in the first place.

Within the walls of Monteriggioni, the next generations of Slayers receive their training.

To the public, this education is given a generic name of importance, one that oozes prestige but does not invite questions: The International School of Siena.

To anyone that looked over the curtain wall of the battlements, they would observe a quiet town with more than its fair share of churches, a large fortress at its centre. In practice, each church was a classroom, the fortress a dormitory to thousands of children and young adults, all slayers-in-training.

Some were orphans taken under the protection of the Catholic Church, others were the children of slayers, descendants of the Crusaders.

All were soldiers. Or at least, they would be before they were allowed beyond the city’s walls.

Those responsible for the Scholars of Monteriggioni (as they were known) held various roles: providers, priests, parents. But above all, they were protectors and educators.

And when you had completed your scholarship and were done being protected and educated by the Elders, you waited.

You, Y/N Crow, have been waiting for years.

You aren’t exactly thrilled about it.

You had spent the first thirteen years of your life raised by a single mother that had done everything possible to keep you from the dark world your father operated within. You hadn’t even met the man until a few months after the fire that had destroyed your life and taken your mother from you.

The Catholic Church had claimed you as a ward with the written permission of your biological father immediately upon your mother’s death, a strange and unwelcome presence as you had not been raised with any sort of faith in your life. Having nothing left in America, you had been relocated to the tiny town of Monteriggioni and introduced to the terrifying reality of vampires that walked among us in the night.

You hadn’t believed the stories until you were forced to witness the execution of a goon with your own eyes, the memory of their screech and charred body burned into your mind forever afterward. You had spent the next ten years being moulded into a warrior, a weapon wielded by the Church to exterminate the unholy scourge of the earth that was the growing vampire population.

And you’ve spent more than two years now waiting to be recruited so you could leave this place.

How was it that you, daughter of the infamous Jack Crow, Master Vampire Hunter, hadn’t been added to a team yet? And even if the nepotism hadn’t helped you, you had excelled in your training. So what could possibly be the reason you were still stuck in Monteriggioni?

You suspect that your so-called father has something to do with it.

You really hate the man.

Where did he get off, taking you from your home and everything you’d known and forcing you to follow in his footsteps and then not even letting you out into the world to prove yourself? The best years of your life, the time when you were supposed to find yourself, had been unceremoniously taken from you, and for what?

With nothing better to do, you had taken to exploring the catacombs beneath the city as of late, trying to map out the complex system of tunnels you had grown up on top of. You would hardly say that you were even an amateur cartographer at this point, but your ever-expanding maps made sense to you, at least.

Your focus over the last few months has been the western quadrant of the tunnels. Your exploration of the other areas have all yielded at least one secret passageway or hidden room, but you haven’t found any in this section yet.

These dark, underground halls had long stopped being scary to you, but today something feels different, like there is a chill in the air. While it had been early evening when you’d descended into the tunnels, night was likely only falling now, and you knew it took a few hours after sundown for the night’s chill to seep this far into the ground. You’d been dealing with an inexplicable draft as well, which shouldn’t have been possible underground, but there it was, playing with the flame of your torch again and threatening to extinguish it.

Ordinarily, you could fiddle with the fuel and the airway to create a smaller, more stable flame – with all of your training, you really only required the tiniest fraction of light to see in the dark – but the symbols marking secret entrances were small, and you needed as much light as you could get if you didn’t want to risk missing them entirely.

You were right to do so, coming across two small symbols shortly after reigniting the torch for the fourth time today: one in the shape of a crescent moon, the other an empty cup. You had seen the latter symbol before, here in the catacombs; it indicated the need for a blood sacrifice for the passageway to open. The moon, however, you had only seen in ancient texts, usually used to symbolize change or transformation due to the multiple phases of the lunar cycle. It probably had something to do with what was housed inside, which meant that it wasn’t one of the disused passageways that led out of the city.

Eagerly, the curiosity burning within you, you set your torch on a nearby sconce before unsheathing your dagger, slicing your thumb with the ease of long practice and pressing it against the symbol of the cup. When you remove your thumb from the wall, the symbol looks like a goblet of wine, and a deep rumbling can be heard before the wall slides open a crack.

Bracing yourself against the opposing wall, you press on the newly revealed door with your leg, pushing it open, the sound of stone on stone grating but not unpleasant. Stepping inside the room with your torch in hand once more, your breath is taken away by what’s inside.

Up on the old stone altar, dozens of candles guiding your gaze upwards like the bannisters of a divine staircase, is a large black crucifix, adorned with gold and rubies. A real, sacred relic, right before your very eyes, glittering magnificently in the torchlight…

Relics like these were rumoured to have been stashed all over the city over the centuries. You’d come across some of the altars where they had been kept during your explorations, but they had always been empty, the precious artifacts moved somewhere else or destroyed.

Did anyone even know that this was here? Should you know that this was here? What were you supposed to do know that you had come across it? You weren’t exactly supposed to be poking around down here; you hope you don’t get in trouble.

“Crow…” an unfamiliar voice, husky yet soft, purrs from behind you. You turn guiltily, hoping that a priest or cardinal isn’t about to condemn you for being down here.

But no one is there, waiting to pass judgement on you.

Something about that whisper of your name has your hair standing on end, and you suddenly feel quite claustrophobic in this stone room beneath the city. Time to get out of here.

Taking one last look at the cross, you take your torch in hand and return it to the sconce in the main hallway, moving to reseal the altar room. Your eyes skim past the symbols that marked this place, before doing a double take.

The cup is no longer red with your blood; instead, a dark stain fills the chalice, the way rock did when it got wet. A shudder runs through you, and you think that the spike in adrenaline will at least make it a bit easier for you to push the think wall of stone back into place.

“What is your name, child?” a new voice, this one equally as unfamiliar as the first, asks from the shadows. You shriek, diving for the torch and brandishing it against the darkness, looking for the speaker.

“Where are you?” you demand, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “Show yourself!”

“Your name…” the voice demands again, high and clear like the ringing of a tuning fork.

“Y/N!” you cry out, wanting the voice to stop more than anything. “Y/N Crow.”

“Did I not tell you, Cassandra?” comes the deeper voice, clearly a male. “Her blood does tempt me so, just the same as her father’s. The blood of a Crusader…” the voice hisses, and you come to a horrifying realization.

Your blood sacrifice hadn’t been absorbed by the stone.

It had been licked clean.

Vampires were underneath Monteriggioni.

Sure enough, two figures slowly emerge from the shadows, staying just on the edge of where the light of the torch fades. From what you can see, both are dressed head to toe in black, only their faces and hands visible, bare and ghostly white. The female is short, shorter than you, with long auburn hair that falls in waves like spilt blood, while the male towers over you even from this distance, his hair dark and brushing his shoulders.

You don’t reply, you can’t reply. You can’t even breathe.

You just turn and run.

You think you hear the faint whispers of a conversation between them, but it’s hard to be certain as your heart pounding in your ears drowns out every sound but the thudding of your feet on stone.

You desperately try to picture your map in your head, but this was the area of the catacombs that you were least familiar with. Left… you need to go left.

There’s a whoosh of air, and your torch flickers again, nearly going out, and then the female vampire stands in front of you with a gentle smile.

Oh. They had been the source of the breeze down here.

Placidly, you wonder how long they had been down here for, how long they had been following you for.

You don’t give it too much thought; you’ll be dead in a moment anyway. You’re glad that the dormitories didn’t have any entrances to the catacombs; that would give everyone else a chance, at least.

“Come with me,” Cassandra’s piercing voice demands, extending a clawed hand towards you.

You take an immediate step back; it’s more of a reflex than anything. She gives you an encouraging smile that doesn’t meet her wide, pale eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one,” she insists, despite being several inches shorter than you are. “Now come with me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes seem to glow, and you find yourself moving towards her, feeling like you were floating. She was mesmerizing you.

Knowing that her powers of hypnosis are at work does nothing to break you from their spell, and as you find yourself walking into her open arms, Cassandra laughs delightedly, wrapping you in a cruel imitation of a hug.

“Now… sleep.”

Weightless, your world fades to black.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

One of the things that disappoints me the most about John Carpenter's Vampires is that there are quite a few cool ideas and concepts that are just... not built on at all, in favour of more screentime for Katrina's abuse or James Woods's unpleasant quips. I really want to build up this world, and that starts with giving at least SOME of the other Master/Mistress vampires a name, starting with Cassandra!

[titanicfreija]

"So unrelated to everything else, I learned how to do wood-burning."

Sunny deliberately flickered at her guardian to express her question.

"Okay, well, you told me to find an art I liked. Sort of. You said find a thing to do and then suggested sculpting, anyway, and so I went to Thomas, 'cos he's the arty one, and I told him what you wanted for me and he took me down to the City, and he showed me these marketplaces where people who do the art shit all sell their things, and-- I didn't realize there were so many kinds of... Things, stuff you could do."

"Mediums," Sunny said, wishing she liked this conversation more. "Anything can be a medium."

~

"Yeah! And how you use it as one. But, Thomas took me around and... I don't like being all awe-striking most of the time, but everyone was real excited to let a guardian try their stuff, even before I paid them. I tried sculpting, and you were right, I liked it and found it natural, but it reminded me of my hammers and grenades, and I knew you didn't mean for that to be what I did with it."

Sunny chirped, but didn't say anything, so Freija continued.

"So we went to just about everything that looked interesting. There's a whole corner for the Eliksni. A weaver, two scrap-sculptors and one who dances out front when I went. Space for more. Crowd was thinner over there, so I made sure to stay longer, watch the dancer and weaver for a while. The weaver-- Eliksni and their manual dexterity. Got a scarf, you can just look yourself later.

"And I did try the scrap, and the dancer tried to teach but I don't have enough arms, and those were kinda important.

"And I tried painting, and I tried sculpting, like I said, I tried like six other ways of making pictures. Pencils, stencils, pastel... Stuff, there were like three things with that word about it. I did not try singing, we know I have fun but do not do well, and I have no intention of fixing that.

"I did try a couple of instruments. The bow-using string ones were my favorite, but I was best with a horn. Liked the drums but was constantly worried I was going to break them. Strum strings were my least favorite. The breath-- ah, I remember, the wind instruments were good but surprisingly hard sometimes? I remember coming away wondering about the ways people come up with to make noises. Lots of them had regional histories, but so many were alike, even from hot places."

Sunny glanced at Freija and felt her light flicker again. "Would you like to do that again?"

"Huh?"

"Go into the city? See... Normal? Mortal? Living people?"

"You're sounding more and more like me. I know what you mean. Non-guardians. I hadn't thought about it."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah."

"Then why not do it again?"

Freija shrugged.

"We can visit the City again. Artist alley and all."

Freija seemed puzzled at the idea, for some reason. "Sounds good," she agreed. "Oh, but, so, we got to this one with wood-burning, which wasn't what it sounded like, but was still really neat. And I wanted to try it, but I ended up doing it my way. Which is basically finger painting with heat, but using different parts of my hands, and using Light. I drew my sun, first, and your flower on your main shell, cos that oblong shape is easy with my little finger, and I turned that into a drawing... Etching? of you. I could never draw your winter lotus, that wonky line of your petals and pointy end threw me off, but burning the shape with my fingers and fingernails worked really well. Singed a Hareball shell right next to it. Even got different shades of char going to look like the color transition. I'll show you when we get home."

Sunny chirped again.

"I kept a plank to practice on. Thomas thought it was funny. He asked if I'd use my hammer. I tried for my face after that, but the only feature I got right was my tattoo. Do you like doing art stuff? Have you ever tried?"

"I doodle with my shell points and I dance," she murmured. She hadn't done either in a very long time. Maybe since Freija.

"I've seen you dance sometimes, there's been music and you'll do that little throb bounce with your pieces, but I'm pretty sure that's not what you mean. How do you doodle with your shell?"

This definitely didn't happen since before Freija. "I would find flat or smooth places and impress on them, like in sand or dust. Murals of things I'd seen, mostly animals eating or hunting."

"Wanna do it again? We can get a tray for sand or paint or ink or something. And I know I don't dance and I remark on the moving all the time, but you wouldn't be you without it and I'd love to see you dance."

Sunny hadn't thought of it in a long time, and now understood Freija's confusion around visiting the market again.

"That sounds nice."

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 24 - Mellifluous

-------------------

FCG / Anni Aughta (Modern Human AU)

Everything about Anni was musical.

Her passions, her laugh, the way she always stepped in time with the beat.

To many she was a boisterous and nasty punk, with all the social graces of a bag of flour and a bite far worse than her already rancid bark.

To Fresh Cut Grass though, and by extension the rest of the Krook House Crew, she was a complete and utter delight. What made her an outcast to society just made her fit in here with them all the more. Her argumentative nature gave Ashton someone to safely banter and bicker with. Her more solitary nature gave Milo the space to work on their passions without worrying that they were ignoring her. After all, if Anni wanted their attention she’d make that known, loud and clear.

And with Fresh Cut Grass?

Well, he loved the music she played. Nothing was more soothing after the average death charred 3am nightmare than the sweet melodies lofting from Anni’s bedroom. Usually the violin, her weapon of choice, so to speak.

A pleased sigh slipped forth, as Fresh Cut Grass shifted their head safely in Anni’s lap, letting the gentle strokes of the bow melt their anxieties away.

“Thanks for lettin’ me listen again, Anni,” they whispered during a particularly long lull in her private bedroom performance. “I know you don't usually like letting anyone in when you're practicing, even if I think it always sounds real pretty and all…”

Anni rolled her eyes, failing to hide the affection behind the gesture from the blue eyed delight in her lap. Like she could ever be truly annoyed with them for even a second.

“You were sobbing so loud that I'm surprised you didn't wake Mi and Ash. How drunk did those fuckers get to sleep through that?”

“They're certainly due for some nasty hangovers in the morning… I’m sorry if my crying disturbed you.”

“Cut it with the apologizing bullcrap! We don't say sorry for fucking crying in this household, okay?”

“I- I know, but I was very loud, and you were trying to practice…”

“And look! I still am! Wow! It's like you didn’t disturb shit!”

Well, that was true. Sure, Anni had taken a 15 minute break to pull them from their bedroom (gosh they hated sleeping alone… but Ashton, with Milo in their lap, had fallen asleep in front of his door, blocking Fresh Cut Grass from getting in), and into her own. Had had to comfort and hold them and he shook and sobbed and sullied her favorite Metallica t-shirt.

But once they'd calmed down she'd motioned for him to lie down and had picked her violin right back up. Anni allowed him to lay their head upon her lap, and well, everything had been fine from there. She hadn't even complained once, something they knew was hard for her.

Anni really was trying her best for him.

“... Thank you, Anni. Really.”

“For what? For the great tunes? ‘Cause that's the only thing you can thank me for. The rest…” Anni paused, slowly turning a peg to adjust a string. “... It's what you've done for me before. Without a single fucking complaint, even when I'm bein’ a fucking bitch about it. That means a lot. So it's no big deal. I don't like seeing you upset, Sunshine.”

Oh.

They hadn't realized it had meant so much. Fresh Cut Grass had only been doing what they thought was right, had only wished to make her feel better. They didn't like seeing her in pain, not one bit. Anni deserved so much more than life had given her.

Everyone in this beat up little house did.

“The music is beautiful, as always. I saw a word a few days ago that I think describes you pretty well. Mel… Mel-li-flu-us? Mellifluous!”

“What's that mean?”

“It's a sound that's pleasingly smooth and musical to hear! Like your violin, or when you hum along to show tunes or just your voice in general. It's a very fitting description, don't you think?”

“.... Fuck you’re a sweetheart.”

A deep red spread from Anni’s cheeks, glowing as soft and pretty as the moonlight that filtered through her bedroom window. Fresh Cut Grass thought it only added to her charming loveliness.

“You are too, Anni. But don't worry! I won't tell another soul!”

“You damn well better not! This shit is for you and you only, got it?”

“Yes mam!”

“Uck, don't make me regret my soft spot for ya…”

Fresh Cut Grass laughed, and Anni couldn't help but think how mellifluous it sounded as well.

Fuck. She really was going soft, wasn't she?

[charsawdeath]

❛ it’s not like you can stop me. ❜ - StaticMoth (Gimme-A-Thrust)

The first time I'd seen his power, blunt and on show for everyone else too, I'd told him to back off.

It was MY Studio, these dumbasses were MY issues to deal with.

But upon further investigation, I learned that Vox WASN'T a meek as he appeared!

Sadistic and feral, both a turn on and a warning!

-

"Back off, Voxxy, it's for the movie~" I remember saying, waving him away from the set.

A gun was pointed out, towards the camera, towards me, and Voxxy lost it!

"Back OFF, Valentino? That's a GUN!"

"It's not loaded, Baby~ Relax~"

I learned later that night when all was said and done that it was HIS mistake to believe an unloaded gun was being used.

How he came to Hell, being shot on screen by one of his game show hosts not liking that he lost!

In a second, after my 'relax' left my lips, I watch as the lights burn hot and bright overhead, some popping further off in the Studio.

Then came that feeling before a lightning strike, I could practically taste it!

It crackled through the room, making my staff cower!

I watch in stunned silence as the lights begin to flicker and energy, electric blue, snakes its way through the cords of the cameras, from the lights overhead and into the rigid body of Vox!

His eyes are blank. His face set in a line.

The antennae on his head turned a blinding white as the power seeped through him.

And in a fraction of a second, one clawed hand is thrust outwards and a blast of heat is felt by any close by.

Meaning me!

The power connects to the body with the gun and instantly begins to bake. The gun, indeed, loaded, blew off the guy's hand before throwing shrapnel into the cameras and Studio workers.

Which also intaled me!

Yanking his hand backwards, the body sails effortlessly towards the electrified TV Overlord. Palm out, the body stops mid flight, then goes one way then the other as Vox simply ragdolled it from wall to wall without effort.

The body, if I remembered anything back in school, was controlled by electricity! The heart to be correct-

The port Vox was using to throw the body around until its charred form sprinkled the floor as it flew.

The body was well and dead by the time the Overlord dumped him back onto the floor, but the horrors he sustained weren't ready to end just then.

His muscles, what remained, spasmed, his smell was over-charred flesh, smoke came off his still cooking body.

And worst yet, a hole where the current Vox had used as the port overtook the whole area of the man's heart, leaving the cavity blackened like coal!

My staff all slowly looked at the Overlord who had effortlessly taken out this Demon and began to back away.

He stood there breathing heavily but didn't look bothered by what he'd done.

He fixed his jacket, dusting it off smartly, then looked at his plain clawed hand. In fact, he made a noise akin to displeasure before he manifested those razor sharp electric blue claws over his normal ones.

I remain seated as the power returns to its rightful places, mouth agape, eyes huge.

The first time Voxxy EVER spoke as if I lay beneath him, was that very same day, at the very moment he saw me looking at him and his once normal looking self.

He smiled, a charming smile, stepped toward me in my chair and simply whispered, "It's not like you can stop me~" Then walked off into the darkness behind me, to his office, where he'd seen the whole thing transpiring and emerged like an angered deity to prove his words true!

I wouldn't be able to stop him-

@gimme-a-thrust

[mahayanapilgrim]

"Outwardly, relax clinging to objects!

Inwardly, give up clinging to the body!

Secretly, loosen clinging to mind!

Tighten with intensity, and then gently relax!

The tightening is the method, and the loosening is the wisdom!

Introduction to the nature of mind by the Lama is like that, as well!

******

The Sign Indications

[Being a record of Padampa Sangye's teachings transmitted through signs and symbolic acts rather than words. Each sign or action is followed by Kunga's verbal description of Padampa Sangye's intention as he understood it.]

When asked about the meaning of ultimate reality, he bound up his mouth with a sling.

To indicate that dharmata is beyond speech or expression.

He blew a mantra on a rhinoceros horn and transformed it into gold.

To reveal that all appearances are the manifestation of the unceasing energy of awareness.

He then took it in his hand and it turned to ashes.

To show that it is empty of true existence.

He placed his sheepskin robe in space.

To show that dependent arisings are manifestations emerging from emptiness.

Stopping his mouth with his left hand, he raised his right hand with palm outward.

To indicate that, if one ceases inner conceptions, external things can no longer be objectified.

Sometimes he would say nothing.

To indicate that, if one reduces one's speech, one will avoid many faults.

He didn't give everything a name.

To show that self-established terms do not exist.

He stole Lama Char's Dharma bag with his texts and burned it!

To show that the ultimate mode of existence is beyond definition.

He held gold and clay in equal regard.

To show that if one practices Dharma one must give up grasping things as real.

He never showed concern for having nice things.

To indicate that consciousness should not pursue objects.

He covered his head with his robe.

To indicate that entanglement in the objects of the six consciousnesses is purposeless.

Sometimes he kept turning his gaze from one place to another.

To indicate that one must recognize the present impermanent moment between past and future.

He stared fixedly, eyeballs unmoving.

To demonstrate that, if one holds the causal energies, gross and subtle conceptions cease.

He very gradually moved his gaze.

To indicate that, by cultivating awareness of the present moment, dual grasping will not occur.

While eating a taste of the most delicious food, he would throw the rest away.

To show that, if one does not give up craving, one will not destroy subject-object duality.

He accepted lack of food and clothing and would not go to receive them.

To indicate that, while undergoing austerities, receiving offerings and reverence is harmful.

He practiced the conduct of a child.

To demonstrate that, because latencies lead into samsara, one must abandon the eight worldly dharmas.

He did anything whatsoever discordant with "conventional" conduct.

To show that attachment to worldly views must be cut.

He acted like a lunatic.

To demonstrate that divine excellence follows true meditative absorption.

He didn't wear shoes.

To indicate that if one has not trained in love and compassion, one cannot be trained in emptiness.

He stayed alone.

To demonstrate that the fruit depends on practice.

He said, "I will give Lama Char the method to attain siddhi!" and tied up his legs.

To teach that practice must first be done on the cushion.

Saying, "I'm going to bless Lama Kadampa!" he plugged up his ears with mud!

To indicate that without receiving the Lama's blessings, one's mind is not ripened by merely hearing teachings.

He did not answer idle questions.

To teach that if one remains entangled with the non-dharmic, one will not reach attainment in one's practice.

He said, "Dampa is not bothered by flies!" and was unhappy if there were no flies around.

To demonstrate that people who see adversity as an ornament view enemies as friends.

The Teachings of Padampa Sangye