#potential bidders

[berry-hwa]

The designs i had in mind when i wrote the mermaid au fic!!! Not my best works but they get the point across

[pensivespacepirate]

ah. the free dome is a foil to ramsey's promise

[redstone-sun]

i have absolutely no horse in this race, i vote for whoevers funniest on whatever poll happens to show up on my dash, but can i say in my private canon with like one or two friends mumbo is the tumblr sexyman of all time

[ramonathinks]

HIGHEST BIDDER.

summary: tired of your virginity, you decide to auction it off — but you weren’t thinking it would be leader of the notorious group, onychinus who offers the most money of $10,000,000.

cw// 18+ virginity loss, soft sex, small plot but not really, pet names, slight? knife play, oral, she/her pronouns, choking, finger sucking, praise, dumbification, degradation, slight fingering, corruption kink( if you squint), female guided masturbation (? kinda? idk!), squirting, attempt at aftercare, the twins have a cameo. wc: 5.3k

tagging: @lvminy @kissxcore @sunasbon @preciousamethyst (hope it’s okay to tag you guys 🥹🫶🏾) @satorubi

You could only assume it was Luke or Kieran who had told Sylus where you were and perhaps what you were up to. Or maybe it was that damn crow, who insisted you stayed inside. But really, it didn’t matter who said anything because Sylus was grabbing you before a single hand flew up. 

“10 million.” His voice was sharp — a hint of anger, annoyance and frustration on him, it oozed off his body and with the dazzling ruby eyes of him staring everyone down… they got the hint that he was throwing around. He was pissed. Too pissed to hear what anyone else had to say. Power rolled off of him in waves everyday but it was obvious that this day, and this girl and this place was provoking him. 

The auctioneer's lips trembled in his presence. “T-ten million going at once.” He awkwardly scanned the room, not a cough of a mumble was heard. “Going twice.” Breads of sweat gathered around his forehead and he swallowed. “Sold!” He exclaimed, nodding his head rapidly in Slyus’ direction, guiding the both of you towards a secluded area.

He scoffed and tightened his grip on your body, it took him little to no effort to hand over his card and in a few seconds the transaction was completed; a portion for them and the bigger sum of the money going to you. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you briefly. 

You couldn’t help but feel like the stupidest person ever and perhaps at this moment… you were. Being stuck inside and with nowhere to go most days because of the claims of dangers awaiting you, it was tiring. Plus, you had urges, like anyone else – womanly and carnal urges, desires and fantasies. You couldn’t help yourself when Luke mentioned it in passing and Kieran slapped him on the head telling him to shut up about it; it was simply interesting and something Linkon City would’ve never allowed. 

You hated the silence. “Are…are you mad at me?” Walking out of the pale building and to the dark cold outside, moving close to his motorcycle. Looking around you think about how the tenebrific ambience that’s casted over this place, it really wasn’t the same as where you grew up, time moves differently here, almost. 

“You went into the N109 Zone alone, potentially putting yourself in danger and you want to know if I’m mad at you?” He speaks with a hard tone, his touch scorching hot against your arm, his touch addicting. “Of all the times to be reckless…” He does a heavy sigh, followed by pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He’s handing you a helmet and putting his own, sitting down and waiting for your arms to wrap around his waist before he drives off. The wind rushes through you swiftly and no matter how many times you’re on his motorcycle, you can’t help but to feel fear course through every fiber of your body. 

Time always seemed to move faster when you were with him and it moved especially fast being on his motorcycle, he drove dangerously and it always led to you clinging more closer to him than you realized. 

Upon making it back, you jumped off the motorcycle and handed him the helmet, shaking your hair to make sure it looked halfway decent. 

Stepping back inside of the Headquarters of Onychinus, Luke popped his head around the corner and you mustered up the angriest glare that you could make him cower away. You could hear him and Kieran chattering about something. “No use in being mad at them, you brought this on to yourself.” Sylus told you, ushering you into his room.

You just sighed, sitting with your legs crossed on a singular chair that was near a small table in the room. The air felt more tense and uncomfortable than the other times you were here and you couldn’t help but to think of how for once you wished that Mephisto was here so that you wouldn’t be alone with him, not with this temper he clearly had. “Listen Sylus, it was a stupid thing and I know that—”

Lightening wasn’t as quick as him when he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. Nothing with him was ever warm and inviting, always hard and even a bit mean but luckily not forceful. His tongue licked at your lips and you complied with no hesitation. His tongue felt hot against your own, it sent flames up your body and you could feel everything in the pit of your stomach and to your throat. When he pulled away, he looked at you and from the way he smirked… you knew you looked out of it. Your eyes alone felt heavy and your knees were wobbling, too weak to stand. With your eyes on his, you watched the dazzling red become harder to look away from. 

The voices came strong and with a clear message: “fuck him… fulfill your desires…” they spoke to you and you both loved and hated the throbbing sensation that followed. You wanted to remind yourself that he was an enemy… it was too hard to do when he looked like he did and with a voice as deep and rich, it was almost unbearable. Yes, he was an enemy but you couldn’t lie to yourself; you knew the real reason you went to the auction was to make him jealous. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you react the way it does but it burns inside of you and to your very core. 

When the light from his eye dimmed and with rapid blinks you were back and felt more stable. “Your little mind always tells me more than your lips do. If you wanted me… I would’ve given you all of me with no hesitation.” It sounded like a promise and it swayed you, you leaned into his arms. “I can try to be gentle.” He whispered close to you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sylus,” His name trembles out of your lips. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make me…” You squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to make me feel good.” You felt too vulnerable in his presence but the truth slipped from your lips so fast as if you were forced to.

He looked as if something took over him, desire deep in his ruby eyes and you couldn’t look away from him, too turned on. “Take your clothes off.” His husky voice said above you. He didn’t move, just watched you shuffle your clothes off until you were in nothing but your panties; when you moved to take those off, it was then that he stopped you. “I’ll handle the rest.” He assured you before he laid you down — your head on his soft black pillows and your body rigid. 

You don’t know where the knife came from until it’s rubbing up your calf and moving its way up to your underwear, the cool metal piercing your skin just barely. Your breathing labored and measured, trying not to show your fear but it was failing you. “Stay still, I would hate to nick your pretty skin.” The knife tickled your thighs when he finally snipped open the front that held your secret possession.

He groaned at the sight, audible and bit his lips to contain himself more. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt. There was a smile so deep on his lips as he spread your lips open for him to see. “You ever touched down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes. “Show me.”

“H-huh?” You stuttered out. “I can’t just…” 

“Just show me what you normally do… when you’re all alone… in your room…under the covers.” He says it slowly, letting you absorb every word he says.

You’re bare and can feel just how comfortable his comforter set was. Your cunt wet and inviting but his eyes stay on yours, which makes it harder for you to breathe. “I just kinda just do…” Clumsily you spread your lips and simply slid your fingers around yourself, barely focusing on your clit but already overwhelmed. “But I can’t make myself cum, ‘m too sensitive.” His eyes transfixed on your fingers and pussy as you work yourself, your face contorting between pleasure and something else before you stop, heavily breathing. 

“Oh? No wonder you’re so unsatisfied, you don’t know your own body. Good thing I’m here to help.” He’s closer, sitting at the end of the bed yet so close to you. He spreads your legs and you can see a glimpse of excitement dancing in his eyes. He inspects you – stroking up your legs and inching his way up and down your thighs, ignoring how with every touch your breath hitches and your toes curl. “I haven’t even touched you that much and you’re already a mess.” He spreads you; opens you up and closes your folds again completely immersed in the gushy noises that follows.

“This,” Sylus says, spreading your sticky lips apart and his breathing getting heavier. “This is your pretty little clit.” He taps the bud with the rough pads of his fingers. “She sits right here behind these lips.” His fingers are lighting a fire and trailing it around your body. “Open these up again… and this,” you gasp, his fingers sitting right in the spot you never touch. “This twitching little hole? That’s where I’m going to fill you up.” He chuckles humorously, circling the hole and gathering the leaking wetness there, your hips rising on their own accord before he pulls away. 

“Now, your turn.” 

“But I—” You’re close to tears, wetness gathered at your lash line daring to fall. “I can’t, I don’t think I can do it like you.” You hated how needy you sounded and how clingy you were being. 

“I hardly did anything. Just simple touches, to show you where everything was. Pleasure points that you should follow. Did you want more? Did you like how I touched you, little one?” You couldn’t help but to gasp at the nickname, it filled your body with more wetness and he watched it leak down to his sheets. 

Your insides continue to flutter at the name and your face feels hot. “This is what you paid for right? Might as well get your fill from it.” You try to sound bold and intimidating but his demeanor just softens at your attempt. 

“As you wish.” He bends down and cups your cheek before placing a delicate kiss on your lips and you can’t help but to squeal a bit at the warmth that his lips bring you. His fingers brush your face before he moves his mouth down to your neck, licking a stripe before sucking on your skin. You can feel his lips curling into a smile at every noise you make. “I could do this all day… but where’s the fun in that? I’m sure you’ll make even better noises when I touch here.” Cupping the palm of his hand and gently slapping it against your core, your back arches and a whiny moan slips out. 

“See? So much better.” You hate the smug look on his face, his red eyes radiant in the dim room staring you down makes you self conscious and ready to hide yourself from him. “I’m going to put my fingers right here,” His breath tickling your core. “Then my tongue, okay?”

You just nod…unable to speak, he watches your face and holds his fingers up to your lips.“Put 'em in your mouth for me, get' em all wet…” Your tongue slides between them, saliva spilling out of the corners of your mouth. “Good girl,” he patted your head, ruffling your hair and you couldn’t help the feeling that took over you. Your mind was everywhere yet nowhere, just him… that was all your mind could think of and be consumed with. The praise had your body on a different kind of high.

He uses those same cool wet fingers to open you wider. Slowly dipping inside of you, circling your center and easing inside, making you tighten up. “Don’t clench, just relax. It’ll only hurt more if you do that.” You take a few deep breaths, allowing your chest to fill up and expand before a release. He spreads your lips and he just looks. There’s a hum on his lips before he kisses your clit; full tongue running across the sensitive area. Your back lifts and arches off the bed but putting his hand on your lower stomach – he forces you to take it. There’s a look in his eyes that’s daring you to disobey him and it makes your tummy flutter. 

He puts his full tongue against your clit and you try not to move but your body trembles. His fingers draw circles around your thighs, inching closer to your slit. It makes you realize that he was simply distracting you to alleviate the slight pain from when his fingers actually slipped inside. When they did, you gasped aloud. “Sly–us… please.” Your legs threatened to close but you forced yourself to keep them open and it took a lot out of you.

“Good girl.” He muttered, obviously appreciating your efforts. “So tight…” He tries to move his finger but you only flinch and groan, which makes him use two fingers from his opposite hand to rub lazy circles against your clit. That alongside your breathing helps your body relax and brings a lot of ease to you, opening yourself up. He slowly strokes your insides, taking his time to drag it forward and back, slipping it out before bringing it back inside. You can’t help but notice how eyes flicker from your lower half to your face occasionally but you don’t say anything. “Deep breath.” He tells you before he slips another finger in beside the other. 

You whine when he moves them both inside of you, your body rocking against his fingers with a circular motion of your hips. He opens them up before closing them again, you grip the sheets. He felt so deep inside of you with just his fingers… the real thing would be different – longer and thicker – you didn’t know if you were ready. “You’re overthinking aren't you? Just focus on how you’re feeling right now.” His eyes are on yours, his fingers curling inside of you so deliciously that you forget to breathe. When he takes them out, you feel incredibly empty, your hole clenching for more. You're huffing and shaking when you look his way again, he’s opening and closing the two fingers that were inside of you; playing with the slick that was there before he sucks them off. He slips them back inside, sliding them on your inner walls and pressing upwards – the pads of his fingers rubbing circles inside of your soft insides; which makes you squeeze his fingers tight. Rubbing your clit again to soothe you, he slowly curves them as he slips them out – you gasp at the feeling.

He grips your hips and forces you to slide down, his breath knocking the wind out of you when you feel it right by your slit. Your fingers tightly gripping the duvet in anticipation, awaiting his tongue. You gasp when his tongue circles over the hole, nudging there just a bit before he licks up a wet trail; moving back to your clit. He plants a small kiss on the pink throbbing bud, then another before he takes it in his mouth and sucks. His tongue moving around in shapes you can’t make out until you feel the hard S he craves in with his mouth, his head rocking against your legs. When the Y comes, he’s peeling back the hood of your clit and flicking the initial inside rapidly. He slides his face down before he finishes, he pulls your sticky lips apart and dives inside. The tip of his tongue sliding back and forth achingly and painfully slow, his head shaking to the sides when he licks upwards, curving his tongue to hit a particular spongy spot that makes your thighs shake. Your fingers now dig through his silvery hair, pulling when he does a harsh lick against your core. “Taste so good…” He mumbles, rolling your clit between his tongue.

The obscene noises that you hear comes from his mouth feasting on you – slurping, sucking and even the noises of his own groans. Groans that were akin to a dying man giving his last prayer, his groans were drowning out the sounds of your own moans. “I can’t take it–” Slushing sloppy noises are what drowns out your moans and pleads. “Sylus please…” You can feel your own wetness under your bottom and embarrassment floods through you, and at the right time his nose bumps into your clit and you grind into it more with a huff; nothing but useless babbling coming out of your mouth. Another lick causes your toes to curl and your body to twist and coil when a leaking orgasm passes through you; which doesn’t stop him from sucking everything that you have to offer. 

 His hair now disheveled from you tugging and pulling on it — his face sopping wet from your juices and you can’t help but look away from him, he sits completely upwards. “Look at me.” Your eyes back on his, biting your lip before you looked down at the bulge in his pants – it looked so big and your mouth ran dry. It was an accident and unconscious thing but you licked your lips while staring and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “You look really interested in pleasing me.” His brow is arched and his voice low. “This is going to be fun.” He said more to himself than you, standing and unzipping his pants. 

You were still completely naked yet he was clothed – almost fully – just his cock sitting out of his pants standing hard and proud against his stomach. This sight before you made you remember who was in power and just how much power you lacked. But wordlessly, you got on your knees. “You want it? Want my cock? ‘Can see how you’re panting for it.” He was truly condescending and knew how to put you in your place, but the way he made you cum made you see nothing but starlight and you wanted to please him.“Come and take what you want sweetie, take what you need.” You stared – 7 and a half inches of a tanned cock and two firm balls blocked your view of everything else – the tip leaking with white sticky precum dripping down. You trace your tongue up the sides, licking up anything you can to get the taste of him before you kiss the head; then you open your mouth around him and let your teeth run against the sides before you suck him in.

“Watch your teeth, kitten.” His nose scrunched up and he closed his eyes, his shoulders growing relaxed, you take what you can’t fit in your mouth in your hand and give it a few gentle strokes. “And be careful around the— thehead.” He says when your tongue runs a circle around the tip and one wet suck. His face relaxes for a second and you can’t help but to look him over. You knew he was good looking but right now with pleasure all over him, he looks a thousand times better. 

The heaviness in your mouth felt so foreign but you welcomed it, the masculine salty taste that followed when you bobbled your head back and the way your cheeks puffed out because of him; it felt good. Your saliva dripped on the floor beneath you, your technique sloppy but when Sylus gripped the back of your head, you felt like you were on cloud nine. He gently guided you, pulling you forward and back – letting your mouth take him as deep as you can, before he pulled you back off. He inches himself inside, you suck and swallow around him, hearing him groan above you sent your body into a frenzy. You choke a bit but he keeps a steady pace to train your mouth again, muffled moans erupt from you when he moves your head again, hitting a deeper spot almost reaching the back of your throat. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed and a whine slipped through your lips, his praise making your thighs clench together. When he finally pulled you off, strings of spit broke off from your mouth and his dick. “I’m going to come inside of you.” He tells you, but you can barely register what he’s saying too far gone on your high of being used. You’re smiling a dopey grin and he squeezes the sides of your face to make you look at him, your glossy eyes in a permanent daze. “That was only the beginning, are you sure you can handle the rest?”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” Your voice is trembling and hoarse as you speak. You wanted to feel him cum inside of your throat but maybe you were being too greedy, your body swayed. He lifted you up from the floor, your knees burning. You lay there, your eyes droopy as you wait for him, all you hear is movement and a zipper before he returns to you. 

“You belong to me, got it?” His hand wrapped around your throat. “Your body is mine to please, to fuck with… to do whatever I want with. And I don’t plan on letting you forget it.” His voice is hard and mean again, his jaw tense as he stares in your eyes.

“I knowww.” A whimper mixed with a whine comes from your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just sighs. Your body trembles and you sniffle, it makes him cradle your hand in his hands.

“You’re shaking, are you that scared?” He asks you gently, as if you’re a flower who needs tending to. Your eyes wide but say nothing. He laced your fingers together, his hands covering the both of yours in an iron grip. “It’s okay kitten, I won’t hurt you.”

You yelp upon feeling a cool sensation hit your lower half, him rubbing it more inside. He’s hovering over you, his beautiful face watching over yours as he slides his cock over your pussy, not daring to push it inside. He just moves his hips well enough that you’re gasping every time, his tip bumps your clit and you bite your lip, your nails ready to pierce his back. You lean into his touch and he kisses your jaw, trailing them down and gently nibbling at your collarbone, sucking on the skin. “Relax,” He says, playing with your wet folds, he starts to play with your clit again and you shiver. “I’ll be gentle.” Did Sylus truly know the meaning of the word? You’re wailing when he slides just the head in, barely. Easing a small bit of his tip in and fucking you just a tiny bit. 

Then you feel him nudging more inside of you – his head thick and the squelching noises of him moving in make you tense up, but he whispers in your hair to calm you down and then you’re sucking him in. Your voice is gurgly when more of him slides in, a new found warmth inside of you. “Still so tight…” A strained groan fell from his lips, you reached from him with tears in your eyes. Sylus didn’t move, he rubbed your hair but stayed there then he did a tiny jerk of his hips, the stretch makes you sob, but you know that he’s only barely inside of you and that there was more to come. He tells you to take a deep breath and you listen, not wanting to be in any more pain; he slips more of it inside, a thumb on your clit. He presses his thumb and does small circles around it – strangled sounds come out of your lips – he still hasn't moved. 

You look at him, you put his face in your hands and look in his eyes, telling him just how ready you are for this. He’s working his cock in slowly, inch by inch but he looks like he's scared to overwhelm you. When his pelvis meets yours you gasp…your hips buckle when he completely bottoms out, a sigh dying on your lips and tears free falling… it didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to but the pain still lingered. Your eyes rolling back and you squeal, your fingers holding tightly against him. “Oh…oh… Sylus.” Panting – your eyes probably filled with hearts — as you look at him, lovingly.  The stringing stretch subsides when he does a small thrust, not too deep but enough to make you feel good. He pulls back and pushes himself back inside, watching your expression as you take him. 

He’s being as gentle as he can, you notice. His hips thrusting soft, just nudging the soft spots inside of you. He pushes inside of you again, the first painless thrust and you both moan. Your belly tenses when he speeds up and the noises of wet skin slapping makes your body heat up. He’s rocking his hips against yours, circling his hips clockwise in a way that makes you shudder. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, he fucks you a bit harder than before. The sound of his balls slapping against you is all you can hear – his strokes getting deeper as he slows down, you look down and see the strings of wetness coating his cock as he stuffs you full of it again. “God, feels so good inside of you.” His mouth slightly agape.

 A small squirt of wetness spills out of you as he thrusts inside, some of it under your bodies and some of it splashing upwards as he digs deeper inside of you. You’re squirming and squirting, eyes crossing over when you hear him say: “Marking your territory, kitten?” It only makes you gush more, squeezing around him. You can feel his deep chuckles as it vibrates from his chest to yours – he’s always mocking you but right now you could care less —the way your body feels has you ready to bend to his whim. “This little kitten and these sharp claws…” he hisses when you press your nails deeper into his skin, you dig them down his back. The long drag of his cock felt amazing against your walls, a small sharp thrust inside has you both grunting.“Clenching around me so hard.” He kisses the top part of your head and you relish in how caring he’s been, you almost forgot how any of this started.

“What’s my name?” His voice thick with a bit of annoyance, it was clear that he didn’t forget how any of this started. You felt full, lifting your hips trying to meet his thrust, his cock hitting spongy parts inside of you that made you see nothing but bright colors.

“Sy-Sylus!” Your eyes rolling back in your skull and your mouth in a permanent ‘o’ shape as he’s inside of you, pure bliss in the form of the gentle thrusting of his body into yours. 

“Who do you belong to?” His teeth clenched and he’s squeezing your waist hard, staring at you… his ruby red eyes glowing in the dim room. His pace picking up faster, squelching plopping noises from the two of you grew louder.

“Youuuu. Sylus.” You admit, puffy pussy sucking him inside. “I belong to you.” He touches your stomach, gazing at it as he fucks himself inside of you. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” His hand on your throat. Grinding his pelvis against yours, your clit pulsing against him. He stops and slides out before he jerks back in, gripping your thighs.

“Sylus!” You’re breathing hard and feel him twitching inside of you when you say his name again.

“And you tried to give it away.” He slapped your cunt and you jolted, a small squirt coming out of you. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is muffled and tears fall; you feel so good and you can’t believe you made the stupid decision in the first place when you could’ve asked him to do this… to make you feel this good. Closing your eyes, you focus on the feeling. He’s stretching you out, squeezing your ass in both of his hands to further spread your body open for his pleasure.

“Eyes on me. Keep looking at me. Look at me while I touch you. Look at me when I make you cum.” Your eyes still closed and he sighs. “Look at me or I’ll stop.”  He gives a sloppy wet thrust pumping his cock inside of you. 

That simple statement made your eyes snap open, “Sylus please…please don’t stop!”  There’s a tremor in your voice and the bed creaks at the same time; your wet walls swallowing him deeper inside. “Please fill me up. I need it.” You’re babbling and the curve of his cock hits a new spot inside of you, the tip grazing your cervix just slightly… just enough to make you feel good and to gasp around him. 

It felt like he was going to devour you.

And you craved it.

So you let him. 

It was one last thrust that was your undoing as you both cum, your back arched and your body feeling completely boneless, wetness slipping out of you as he pulled away. Your body shaking, he kisses you and pulls you close to his bare chest. As you’re drifting to sleep you hear him whisper in the sweetest voice, “I truly do adore you.” 

But maybe you dreamt it.

When you wake, your body is covered in sweat and a heavy arm has you caged in. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and you feel wetness there too, you shiver. You slide from behind the arm and attempt to stand. “Fuck.” You mutter, looking for your clothes or for any clothes. You mentally slap yourself upon remembering that Sylus cut your panties as you rummage through his closet. You pull out a folded plain dress and slip it on, making your way out of his bedroom. You close the door gently so that he can stay asleep and you walk towards the main hall.

“Sounds like Boss really taught you a lesson.” You heard snickering and with a slight limp to your walk, you moved over to slap Luke’s arm.

“Looks like it too.” Kieran said, making you hit him too. “It’s not like we didn’t hear it, you two were so loud that Mephisto left and I swear before he left that he tried to cover his ears. I would’ve done it too, if I thought it would drown off the ‘Sylus don’t stop’ you kept moanin.” Mimicking your voice made you kick him in the shin, which he yelped at. 

“Both of you just hush. I-I’m leaving.” You make your way for the door as they trail behind you.

“So this is you attempting to sneak off?” Luke snorts, you know he’s rolling his eyes behind the mask.

“Yeah right, boss really isn’t letting you leave now.” Kieran chuckles.

“They’re right, you know.” For a split second your body is lifted in the air and slammed against the front of a hard naked chest and for possibly the millionth time today, your body felt hot all over. “You really won’t be leaving my side now.”

But you already knew that.

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[whore-ibly-hot]

'Photo Shoot'

Yan!Photography Student x GN!reader x Yan!Art instructor (Joseph and Mr. Burton)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: All characters are legal age, multiple yanderes, dub-con touching, perverted thoughts, voyeurism, student/teacher dynamics, nude photography, no real mention of specific genitals

AN: I'm so eepy right now... Also, if you like this fic, use the tags on my masterlist to find all the other Yan!Boarding School writings.

The smoke coming from the corner of the room ceases when Mr. Burton snuffs a cigarette butt out on an... ashtray? From where you're sat, you can see him putting it out on what looks more like a student pottery bowl. That strikes you as odd, but he can be very critical of others art so you can't be suprised. Cracking his knuckles and leaning back a little, he turns to you and the extremely quiet classmate beside you, Joseph.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road, yeah? Joseph, you're our camera man, I'll have you leading this thing, running the camera's and I'll give some creative direction. Student and the master, I can finally teach some actual fucking art." Mr. Burton mumbles, as Joseph quickly begins setting up the camera on a tri-pod. You feel odd about him to say the least, despite you being the 'muse', as Mr. Burrton calls you, Joseph's barely made eye contact with you. You agreed right off the bat when Mr. Burton asked you to help one of his favorite students with some anatomy shoots, you like Mr. Burton, he's funny, honest, and that's refreshing, given you worry some people at this academy have ulterior motives. Still, you had some concerns as you fiddle with the thin top you wore at Mr. Burton's request. "Mr. Burton?" you ask, and he looks up from where he's mumbling about something with Joseph. He motions for the young man to keep working as he strolls over.

"I'm nervous." You admit, hand rubbing at your elbow as an attempt to self-soothe. "I don't usually get, nude, on camera, and i-it's not that I don't trust you, sir, but-" He puts his hand up to cut you off, gently rubbing your shoulder. "Woah, woah. I get it, I get it." He assures you, tone comforting. "You're my student, and you've got great, great potential. I've been on the art scene, kid, I see the burnout path some people go down, I see the ways people exploit and get exploited. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. If you get uncomfortable, I'll pull you out. And trust me, being in the nude for art starts to feel perfectly normal after a while, okay?" He pauses, then sighs. "Okay, it's comfortable except for being cold as hell." He laughs.

You chuckle in return, but there's still a bit of worry. He can tell, and leans in. "What is it that worries you, exactly? If it's insecurity, trust me, the real artists are those marketing execs who can photoshop a skinny model and make change up the whole idea of beau-"

"It's not that sir, I promise. I'm just worried about other people seeing, you know? I'm worried about it getting spread around, or people getting bad ideas about me." You admit, face a little pale. Mr. Burton's brows furrow, and he slaps his hand down on his jeans. "Joseph, come here!" He yells.

Joseph jumps, hands shaking as he almost knocks over his tripod. "But- uh, the cameras-" He squeaks out, and Mr. Burton shakes his head. "You're one of the best photographers I've ever met, Joseph, I know damn well that cameras been set up for well over ten minutes already. Come here, don't be shy, don't be weird. You're freaking out the subject." At the idea him staying away is freaking you out just as much as him coming up to you, Joseph walks over. "H-hi." he greets, holding out his hand. You shake it, and it is particularly sweaty.

"Joseph is a great photographer, my best student and possibly one of the best I've ever seen. I assure you, he's a good kid. He's dedicated to his craft, this isn't a complex scheme for him to fence some nudes of you to the highest bidder." The young man's eyes widen exponentially as Mr. Burton makes his assertion, and instinctually puts his hands up in surrender. "No, no! I would never, ever. Do I- do I come off as that kind of creep, if I do I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that at all, I just struggle with, well, some issues like that." Joseph visibly frowns, and Mr. Burtons hand tenses from it's spot on the table.

"You are pretty creepy, Joseph." Mr. Burton admits, making the boy flush as the teacher playfully pushes his head. "This'll be good, good art pushes outside of comfort zones, yeah? Let's get all set up." He claps his hands together as he goes to stand behinf the camera with Joseph. You strip, and sit awkwardly before the camera in front of a messy brick wall with various stains and prints on it from Mr. Burton's studio. Mr. Burtons licks his lips subconsciously as he looks over your meek form, the clears his throat. "Okay, first position, mermaid pose. Lets get those legs to the side."

The shoot continues on for a while, until Mr. Burton suggests a more 'raw' shoot. That's how you find yourself posing, hands over your chest area and thighs ever so slightly parted while Mr. Burton sits behind you, also nude. You worried about it being inappropriate, mostly for his sake. "Couldn't this... I mean, I'm willing to do it if you think it'll be good art, but won't you get in trouble if people find out?" You ask, turning over your shoulder a bit. He scoffs again, and shakes his head. "No self-respecting person with credentials like mine would teach these silver spoon brats art, I'm all they've got." He assures you, going to move an arm around your waist from behind.

"What composition do you want, sir?" Joseph asks, face red as he uses every ounce of will-power to try and suppress an erection at the sight of you and the older man. He'll worry about the new and conflicting feelings later. He's got enough photos to die happy, but the fact you seem so willing fills him with a delusional sense of your interest in him.

"It's your shoot, Joseph. Take over directing." Mr. Burton calls back, and Joseph doesn't seem sure. "I don't know, sir, you have more of a vision than me, and-" Mr. Burton groans, rolling his head back like a kid throwing a tantrum. "Jesus christ, kid. How many times do I have to hammer in that you're a good artist? You can direct your own shoots-" He notices the violently red flush of Josephs cheeks, and chuckles. "Or is this more an issue of being to embarrassed, because I told you-" He waves his free arm around. "We are pushing the envelope, making something raw, pushing ourselves out of comfort zones. To be a great artist, you have to not be afraid to tell your NUDE SUBJECT, to spread their legs and bare it all." Joseph is completely silent, stun-locked by his gruff teachers comments. He begins examining the shot in the view-finder after taking a few shaky breathes.

"Alright, Sir... of course." He swallows, and his shaky hands adjust the lens. "I want to-to try and delineate from what other people think nude shoots are, away from like... porn and stuff. Raw, but intimate, I think." Mr. Burton nods for him to continue, and seeing the interest in your eyes at his creative direction, Joseph gets a little more confident. "If you're okay with it-" He addresses you now. "I'd like Mr. Burton to be able to touch you, nothing too invasive, just a kiss on the neck or the shoulder, maybe letting him hold your thigh?" Joseph keeps his tone soft and asking, sure to imply you can say no.

"That's alright, I trust him." You mumble, looking at the gruff art instructor and seeing to your surprise a soft look on his face. "I'm honored, little muse." He teases, and the nickname makes you flush. "Oh, and you too, Joseph, we've not talked much, um, but you seem really dedicated, I'm sure I'm in good hands."

Shit. Well, so much for keeping his dick down, but at least he doesn't think you can see from the way the lighting is set up. He nods, and you shiver, feeling a cold pair of lips and a thin stubble scratch at the surface of your shoulder. "Are they cold?" Mr. Burton chuckles, placing a few more small kisses as you hear the camera shutter snap. "I'm sorry, I can't control the thermostat in here, all this money and they can't afford to make sure I don't freeze my dick off doing my job." He's always so grumpy, even when he's trying to be sweet. You close your eyes and try to relax into the feeling. It escalates occasionally, hands on your thighs as he kneads gently at your flesh, occasionally making a complaint about something or picking at Joseph, who keeps making an odd series of grunts, but you assume he's just breathing heavy from being so focused.

It culminates in you being positioned over him, as if playing the playful or dominate role in some sort of erotic moment. Mr. Burtons hands rest on your ass, his firm yet not fully erect cock a little too close to your hole. You're chest to chest with him, and while he's relishing in the feeling, Joseph makes a hand motion, and he knows its time to pull away, at least for this ession. He's smart, knows not to rush it, and he knows this is more than enough material for the vouyeristic camerman.

"I think we got some good shots, i-it's getting late. I'll go grab something from the vending machine while you too warm up." Joseph scarmbles away, camera bag held oddly across his crotch area. Mr. Burton smiles as you slide off from him, flushed as the weight of your previous position hits you. "You were great, a real professional." He urges, scooting forward to sit beside you.

"Thank you, sir. I was trying not to get too flushed or anything, I hope I didn't sweat too much." You admit, and he shakes his head to assure you. "Nah, you did fine, but if I could make a suggestion?" You look up. "No real intimate scene like that doesn't have a couple kissing. On your neck and shoulders was fine, but lets face it, people do more than neck each other when they're getting it on like that." He glances at the door, making sure Joseph is still doing whatever it is he's doing out there. He didn't discuss this part with the young artist, but let's face it, learning to be one step ahead, to protect your work and your muse, is something he's gonna have to learn anyways. "Will you let me show you?" he asks, voice low as he leans closer to your face.

You glance at the camera. "It's not running, though shouldn't we wait for joseph to take the photo?" You ask, a little more unsure about the artistic integrity of the action. He shakes his head as he lets his stubble scratch your cheek. "This'll be practice, yeah? For next time..."

"Next time?"

"Next time." He mumbles, lips feverishly sealing against your as he hunces over your form, cold bodies pressing together and leaving goosebumps which trail down your form as the session closes out.

[marveltrumpshate]

The MTH mod team is proud to bring back Marvel Trumps Hate for a seventh run! Inspired by Stony Trumps Hate and Fandom Trumps Hate, our purpose is to encourage fandom unity while raising money for nonprofit organizations that work to protect civil rights, marginalized and oppressed communities, and the environment.

Our fandom-wide fundraiser auction raised $36,852.10 USD for charity with the help of 156 generous creators and hundreds of bidders last year (and we not only hit a massive milestone to celebrate half a decade of MTH ($200k!), but we also surpassed it with a grand total of $215,652.53 raised over the past five years). This year, we’re looking forward to raising just as much awareness and money for some Marvel-ous causes!

Creator sign-ups will open in one month’s time, on Sunday, September 15, 12 AM ET (Eastern Time). Creators may offer different types of works such as fics, art, edits, videos, beta services, crafts, and more for any character, ship, or universe in the Marvel multiverse.

Sign-ups will run until Saturday, September 28, 11:59 PM ET, which should give everyone plenty of time to think about what they’d like to offer, spread the word, and sign up as a creator!

There will be a preview week from October 13 to October 19, during which potential bidders can peruse all the auctions and start building their list of fanworks to bid on. We will also use this time to make corrections to auction pages before bidding begins.

The 2024 MTH Auction Week will then run from October 20 to October 26. All auction times are in ET. If you’re in a different time zone, you can convert times here.

Please follow us for updates and visit our About, How to Participate, Schedule, and FAQ pages for more information. If you have any questions after doing so, you can contact us here!

We believe our fandom is a caring community determined to help those in need just like the superheroes we love so much, so let’s unite, organize, and pay it forward. As the Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes theme song goes, “assembled, we are strong!”

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hello!!! hope you’re doing great, I kinda wanna ask about Thomas x Sister Shelby if you do that ? And if you do I’m thinking she’d be smart, has a very quick tongue and she wants to get out of the Shelby business to marry the love of her life (alfie😝😍) so she fakes her death and ofc everyone is distraught and angry than after a few years Thomas sees alfie at his home and than comes his sister who he thought had died and he berates her than she says something like you’re a worse person than me always killing for money like he can’t live without a war. Also I am in the mood for a very angst ending

A/N: Hello my love! How are you doing? I am so so sorry that this has taken forever. Truthfully, I had no clue how to do this. I thought about this long an hard, and though some things I switched up, I hope you enjoy this. I feel like this got me to stretch my writing muscles, and it was really fun. Let me know what you think darling!

Run Away With Me Darling

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader; 3.8k words; fluff, angst

Warnings: language, contentious family relationships, arranged marriage???

It started innocently enough.

You bringing tea and biscuits to meeting rooms where the men started their schemes. Listening and taking notes alongside your ever watchful Aunt Polly. Sneaking glances at the big brute in the chair across from your big brothers.

“Thank you treacle. Yeah that’s real kind of you.”

That brute is the only man that would say thank you for the tea you bring by. And when you go to pour more for him, he’s the only man who says, “No need for that darling. Grown men can pour their own tea yeah?”

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than professional. But you should’ve known. Known from that first encounter outside those Shelby walls… you and Mr. Solomons shared a single soul… and heaven nor hell could keep you from each other’s grasp.

It was hot. London is not a tropical city by any means. But the sheer amount of bodies, activity, and warm rain, had transformed the city into a sauna. The wisps of your hair along your neck and forehead are plastered to your body. Rivulets of sweat sneak down your chest. The heat could only be described as oppressive. You were counting down the steps till you could go home.

On the one hand… it was strange having a home all to yourself. Truthfully, it was the Shelby homestead in London, where the family would stay when business needed attending to. However, when they all left, you stayed. Carrying delicate messages. Keeping a close pulse on the going’s on of the city. And perhaps most importantly… remaining a pretty show pony for the Shelby family.

You hated to admit it. But you were desperately jealous of Ada. She had the guts to sneak past Arthur, Tommy, and John. She had the foresight to marry her true love before Tommy could marry her off to the highest bidder. You had no such luck. No childhood love. No sweetheart to campaign for. The boys had made sure of it. Despite Ada and your protests, and Polly’s discrete ploys; Tommy had decided. The sweet, pure, and innocent youngest Shelby girl will be auctioned off to the richest and most lucrative partner for the Shelby Company. And she will remain pretty and docile. A prize.

The mere thought made your stomach twist and churn and burn.

You loved them. Your family. More than most love their family. But you could barely breathe under their watch. Even in another city you felt the reach of their eyes. Felt the whisperings of potential matches for your hand and womb. The sweat on your brow burned your eyes. Taking place of the unshed tears you long abandoned.

All you longed for was cold water. A cool bath. Anything to scrub off the sweat and dirt and exhaustion. However, shade covered your front door, casting a shadow over the threshold.

“Sweetheart! Been waiting a bit for you!”

No matter where you see Mr. Solomons, he seems to take up all the space. You don’t know how he is able to stand the heat, with his coat and hat and bushy beard. But he looks unfettered. Cool even. You finally felt the kiss of the breeze on your neck as you approached.

“Mr. Solomons. How can I help you?”

“You going to invite me in like a good girl?”

“I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my home.”

“You think me strange?”

“Oh Mr. Solomons you are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Makes you a little excited though don’t it? A hint of danger yeah? Big brute standing at your door.”

You stuck your chin out, staring directly into his stormy eyes. “I’m not afraid of you Mr. Solomons.”

His mouth quirks up in the corner. A twinkle in his eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned into your space, “Oh I know sweet. You ain’t like the others ain’t ya? I saw it… the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. Those boys… cold blooded little snakes… you… nah… there’s a flame in you treacle…and I look forward to see you set things aflame.”

Before you could respond in any way, he leaned away, smiling at your response. He pulled out an envelope from his coat and handed it to you, “Contract and information for your devious brother my sweet. Don’t worry, put a little something in there for you too for your trouble.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand. Unsure of how to respond to his… behavior. His rumbling laugh set a shiver down your spine, but you pushed it down as you appraised him, “This seems below your job description… don’t you have messenger boys?”

He further smirked, “I hope you’ll forgive me, that I want to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not a kept girl.”

“That you are not. Just have to inform your brothers of the fact don’t you?”

Hot shame rose in your cheeks. The envelope in your hands crinkling sharply. You felt the cool brush of gold rings on your cheek, “I have a standing dinner every Thursday evening. Let it be our little secret, hmm?”

Before you could react, a coarse kiss is pressed to your knuckles. As he started walking away, you called out, “And if I don’t show up? What then?”

He turned, with a boyish smile, “You’re not a kept woman treacle. Not my business. I’ll just send my messenger boys in my place.”

That was a year ago. Things were so simple then. Secret dinners. Secret mornings. Secret dalliances and outings around town. And when the family came to town, you placed that mask back on. Sweet, innocent, and docile Shelby girl. Ready at the beck and call of her family. And when they left, you ran right into the arms of Alfie. Because where it all started as something to feel disobedient, it grew into something deeper and more ancient. You felt your soul intertwine with his, as if it was always searching for him. In the evenings when he whispered his love for you and kept you close, you had never felt safer. Never felt more alive.

But dreams are not forever. Sooner or later the bubble must pop.

“You’ll need to come back to Birmingham dearest.”

“For how long?”

Everyone looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t even look up from his dinner plate, “Permanently. I’ve got a husband for you.”

Your fork dropped. Your heart stopped beating.

You faintly hear Aunt Polly call your name.

“Husband?” You whispered.

Tommy sighed, “That is what I said. High time you married, you’re old enough. Mr. Gorman has multiple factories both here and in the states, and his son is set to inherit them all. It’s a good match, it’ll be very beneficial to the company.”

“Tommy I don’t even know him.”

“You have your entire life to get to know him. Now finish your dinner.”

“So you just decided is that it? You just decided to that I’d belong to some man? Tell me Tommy… how much did you sell me off for? How much is my womb worth?”

“Watch your mouth!” Polly hissed, with Arthur wincing at the cutting words.

“I’m not going.” You stood from your chair. Preparing for battle.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I’m not going! You cannot make me!”

Tommy rose from his seat, John putting his head in his hands with Arthur knocking back a drink. Low. Deadly. Tommy always could command a room with his voice. Cold finger pointing at you like a deadly weapon. “You will do as you’re told. This is not about you. This is about the family. In a week, I will come fetch you. I will drag you back to Birmingham if I have to. And you will marry the young Mr. Gorman, and you will have as many of his fucking babies as he chooses. You will be rich. You will be safe. And you will be set. I am not about to argue with a child.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. Sorrow. Mourning. Hatred. “I hate you Thomas Shelby. I hate you.”

“You will get over it.”

You ran to your room. Weeping the rest of the night.

Because how can your body and name be given to a man, when your heart and soul belonged to another?

They left the next morning. Arthur knocking on your door to announce the departure, and trying to convince you, “He’s a good lad darling. Trust Tommy alright? Wouldn’t let nothing bad happen to ya, even though it seems like right shit. Don’t be too angry at us. We’ll all still be close. And anyway… it’s what’s good for the family.”

You didn’t look at him. Not even a hum of acknowledgment when he kissed your hair tenderly. A regretful sigh leaves his body as Arthur walked away, taking one last look at your quivering body on your maiden bed. Arthur always had a soft spot for you. Always defensive for you unlike your other siblings. He had tried in vain to get Tommy to rethink the arrangement. You didn't need to get married. The company didn't need such an alliance. They'd get by as they always have. But Tommy's sights were set much higher. He wanted that name of honor. And to get it, he was willing to play by the rules of old money. Tommy had convinced Arthur enough. Enough that you'd eventually forgive them all.

The orange sky illuminated your bedroom in a bloody hue. Your throat dry and head hot and pounding. The creaking and settling of the house had become a steady ring in your ears, you didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

"Treacle. What are you doing? Eden said you haven't left since last night. You ill?"

Maids hear everything, you think bitterly. But you couldn't be too cross with Eden. Not really.

"He's done it Alfie."

Alfie toed off his boots after the hat and coat. Sinking into the too ornate duvet. "Who treacle? What happened?"

You faced him, deep creases of the duvet threads divide your hot wet cheeks. Lashes clumped together and soaked. "Tommy... he... he finally did it. He's married me off. In a weeks time I'm to belong to some... Mr. Gorman. His father owns factories, and I suppose that's enough for my bride price."

You feel your body being gently tugged up and into Alfie’s embrace. Despite any protest from you about how it may affect his back, he shushes you instantly, “Now now my little dove. Nah you ain’t going back to Birmingham. You ain’t getting married to some prick. Nah you’re staying here with ol’ Alfie.”

You force your face under his chin, letting his unkempt beard absorb your sobs, “No Alfie it’s true! Tommy told me yesterday at dinner! He… he’s taking me away Alfie! I hate him. I hate him so much. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t even know!”

“I already told you darling, you’re not going to! It’s not happening.”

You push his shoulder, “You’re not listening to me! Tommy said-“

“I don’t give a shit what Tommy said! You’re not marrying the shit because you’re marrying me!”

Like an unpracticed magician, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring. Its glimmer and fractals made it look as endless as the night sky. You felt the breath in your lungs catch, anger and fear simmering down and cooling. You dared not touch something to precious, “Alfie Solomons…”

“Was my mother’s. Gave it to me when I came back from the war. On her death bed. Made me swear that I wouldn’t give it up for any pretty girl on the street. Had to give it to the one.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, “And I-“

“The one treacle. If you’ll have me.”

He shifted you in his lap, fully facing him, “Now… I had a whole event planned out. Garden stroll. Drinks. Music playing. And I know I’m a sorry old monster and you have loads of suitor-“

“Alfie-“

“But I swear on my life treacle, you’ll never want for anything. You will have freedom to do whatever you would hope to do. We’ll go anywhere. I’ll love you till the stars go out-“

“Alfie! Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you! You silly old man!”

You pushed him back and kissed him fiercely. With all the passion you had been hiding from your family for years. Until the acidic burn of reality came down, “But what about Tommy? Alfie you hate each other, he’ll never let me go.”

Rough hands running up and down your thighs, gazing in awe at the fiery halo surrounding you. “I was willing to go in and threaten blessing or death.”

“I won’t have you put in danger for love. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

With a laugh and kiss to your fingertips he whispers, “You got any ideas? I’m all ears.”

You try to think, but kept coming across a wall. Any option you thought of ended in bloodshed. You fell into the bed next to Alfie, curling into his chest, “I wish we could just run away.”

His arms tighten around you, “What if we did?”

It would happen three days before Tommy would come to fetch you. You dismissed Eden with an oath to secrecy, and for four days you played the part of excited bride to be. Purchasing things for a new marital home, a wedding dress and new wardrobe. Who cares if the detail of the lucky husband was slightly off?

Whenever your family called, you lied happily through your smiling teeth. At first you felt a twinge of guilt. But in the end, they stood by as your brothers sold you off. They lost the right to the truth. They hated Alfie, said as much any time they came to the house. They would never understand. They would never allow it. But this was your life. And you would be damned before you were cleaved from your beloved.

The men from the distillery made regular visits to the house in the middle of the night, picking up your things to take to Margate, dropping off love letters and updates from Alfie. With each passing day, your heart became lighter. The binds lessening. Freedom was right on your tongue.

Three days before Tommy, Arthur, and John are to pick you up, the horrific news explodes through Birmingham. The Shelby home in London: set ablaze. No survivors. The beautiful bride, burned alongside her wedding dress hanging in the window. The youngest Shelby girl, an angel amongst demons, taken too soon from the earth from a horrific accident. The fire so destructive, not even a body is there for a proper burial. Just ash and a memory of that sweet face. The funeral is horrible. Wailing and weeping from all of Birmingham. Aunt Polly could barely keep it together, blaming Tommy for it all. Even business acquaintances from London and beyond come to pay their respects. The most shocking visitor, was Mr. Solomons, who paid for the funeral itself, “I’m sorry Tommy for your loss. I really am. She was a sweet girl. But… she’s in a better place I’m sure.”

And what a better place that is. White washed home right on the beach, windows open at all times, with the sea breeze billowing pristine gossamer curtains in the wind. You spend your days reading and writing to your heart’s content, strolling the beach, playing with Cyril like a child. As Alfie settles affairs in Camden during the week, he visits during the weekend, serving and worshipping you like a goddess. He never gave you information about the family. You didn’t want it. That was your old life. A you that you couldn’t recognize. Here, in this life, you were free. Free to speak. Free to argue and give your mind.

After a month, Alfie permanently moves to Margate. Home. Retired from the gangster life with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, with more than enough to comfort when he’s gone.

And the years pass blissfully. Just how it was in the beginning. Kisses and dancing and laughter and arguing and love and joy. 3 years of absolute heaven, you had nearly forgotten how it all was almost taken from you.

But the past does have a way of rearing its ugly head doesn’t it?

It’s the dawn of summer. The final kisses of spring bringing crisp clean air through your marital home. Alfie had never felt better. The pain in his body had long left him, only flaring during the coldest evenings. The dark circles under his eyes have dissolved. His face and body, fuller, firmer with the glowing health of a man at peace who works for life not death. You were upstairs, searching for the a particular spool of thread you had been working with for a blanket you had spent days on. But it needed to be done soon. Alfie shifted through the records you both had been collecting. Symphonies had become his special interest in the recent months, and he was looking for a particular composition that he felt would make your heart sing.

The heavy knock on the door sent the hair on his neck stand at attention.

Only one demon knocked like that.

His eyes shifted to the stairs. He could still hear you moving things around. Searching tirelessly for that spool. You’d be missing for a couple minutes. Enough to rebuke the vile creature from the door without your discovery.

With a deep breath, Alfie tries to remember the armor of his past. The Mad Baker. Just as another round of knocks was about to come, Alfie opened roughly, “Tommy! What are you doing here? Gates of hell need their master don’t they?”

He looked thinner than normal. It’s been years since the men had seen each other, but the difference was still shocking. Those icey blue eyes even more haunting than they were at the funeral. Gaunt cheeks and pale skin made him look like a living corpse. A flicker of a flame winked behind those eyes. Hope for another fight. Something to set him aflame. “Hello Alfie. Enjoying retirement?”

“Yeah actually I am so whatever you have up your sleeve I want no part in it so if you’ll just fuck off.”

Before Alfie could slam the door, Tommy stuck his foot in the door, “Not that simple Alfie. Worlds gone to shit and it needs Solomons to set it to right.”

“Your world not mine. Now get out.”

“I’m not going to leave until you let me in Alfie.”

Your angelic voice danced on the breeze down to the front door, “I found it! Alfie you would not believe where it was! I swear I’m losing my mind.”

Tommy’s face some how went paler. As if he heard Satan’s whisper of condemnation. Alfie tried to push the door closed, but with the strength of a mad man Tommy pushed past the threshold.

Tommy almost fainted.

This must be hell.

He must have died.

It’s the only rational idea.

God chose to lock him in the home of his biggest agitation, with the ghost of his dead baby sister.

But this couldn’t be your ghost. Your swollen belly proves this.

“Holy shit.” You drop the tea cup in your hands when you see Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy who saw you buried and dead.

Alfie rushes in, pulling you behind his broad frame. Through his linen shirt, you feel the ragged breath and hammering heart of your husband. You feel faint. “Tommy… you need to leave right now.”

“You paid for the funeral.”

“Tommy we can do this later but you need to get out right now. I’m asking nicely.”

“You knew she was alive… you knew.”

“She is very delicate right now she does not need any excitement.”

“You fucking made her delicate! You compromised her you fucking bastard!”

You cried out as Tommy lunged for your husband, “Stop it Tommy! Enough! Get out of my house!”

Tommy stumbled, pointing at you, “You… you’re fucking sick. You’re demented! You caused Polly a near heart attack. You are disgusting!”

You push past Alfie, who is left watching, “I’m disgusting! You sold me off to some man. And for what? To get people to see you as a big man? Guess what Tommy, you will NEVER be good enough for them! They’ll always see people like us as trash! But you don’t care. Anything to get ahead right?! You’ll stoop as low as you need to ahead.”

Tommy laughed bitterly, holding back the urge to spit, “And what about you yeah? So spoiled that you throw the biggest tantrum of the century. Whore yourself out to the Mad Baker, and get knocked up with his bastard.”

“I’d stop talking if I were you Tommy.”, Alfie snarled darkly. Fists curling in. Like a wolf ready to devour.

“I’d rather be his whore than be a part of any family of yours. You can’t leave well enough alone. Murdering and slaughtering for some honor so quick to tarnish and fade away. You tried to lock me away, never taking a care to what I wanted or thought. But you can’t do that to me anymore. I’m a Solomons, and I carry his child. You can’t touch me.”

Tommy settled, steel washed over his face. “They have a right to know.”

“You all have a right to nothing. I’ll see the family when I’m good and ready.”

His eyes shift to Alfie, “You are evil incarnate. You are cursed.”

No sign of mirth reaches Alfie’s eyes when he smirks, “Careful Tommy. You know what they say about curses. Especially when you curse family.”

Without another word, Tommy storms out. As soon as the door slams, shaking the lamps, you let out the breath in your heavy lungs, “Holy Shit”.

Your knees give out from under you, and cold shakes roll through your body. Alfie grabbed your body, helping you into a chair. “Settle my love it’s alright he’s gone. What do you need? Baby ok?”

“No I’m ok thank you my love. I just… I need air. I can’t believe he came here. He knows. They all know.”

“Hush darling, breathe for me, settle your nerves, you don’t need to worry. They know but they can’t touch you. You’re my wife and they can’t get to you. You are your own woman. You are safe.”

“But what are we going to do. What if they come?”

“Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll have some boys come in, set up a watch. We won’t be caught off guard ever again.”

You nodded. Trusting the words of your husband. You felt an affirming kick in your ribs. The rushing of your heart. You had paradise for three years. You couldn’t run forever, no matter how far you got. The bell had finally tolled, and it was time to face it.

[akutasoda]

hello, aventurine with a teen!reader who has a similar past like his?

for the 1k followers event

preserving youth

synopsis - when he meets someone who has been through his struggles

includes - aventurine

warnings - gn!teen!reader, fluff, slight angst, spoilers for aventurines backstory?, all that kind of stuff, wc - 541

aventurine knew first hand how cruel and unforgiving the galaxy could be. each and every planet or ship had the potential to house a disgusting secret that normally became interwoven with other places that did the same. it was in no way pleasant or excusable but they didn't care, at the end of the day it wasn't their livelihoods being played with like some cheap kid's toy - eventually thrown away when they became bored.

aventurine aimed to travel the path of preservation to protect his people, but sometimes a small part of him also wanted to protect those that went through the same horrors he did. that seemed like a harder goal as it could be happening all over the galaxy but sometimes he wished he could help those within range, or within his knowledge.

it was no surprise that the IPC liked to pry on the weak and vulnerable, they were a respected entity and who would dare refuse them? unfortunately that's how you ended up roped into their scams, they pried on your vulnerability and before you knew it you were being forced to work under their ranks. that being said, not every IPC worker had come from unfortunate backgrounds or had been constantly passed around to the highest bidder but that's what made you stick out to aventurine.

during his youth, he had been treated as a lowly, worthless being whose value could only come from the people that payed for him. he knew the kind of people they were and more specifically the types of people that were in his position. it was only a passing glance really, you hurried past him with a stack of papers in hand but he couldn't help but spot a small mark peeking out from behind your clothes - one that he desperately wished didn't mean what hr thought it menat. it would be the second time he saw you that he realised two things: one, that mark meant what he thought it did and two, you were too young for this.

he could take a quick assumption that you were probably the age when he was being passed around and yet you had landed here - already probably experiencing what he had been through. it didn't sit right with him that it was obvious that the IPC used your unfortunate position to rope you into a life's work with them and so he'd decide to use it against them. he travelled the path of preservation and he would try anything to help preserve what little of your youth remained - something that wasn't done for him.

akutasoda's 1k event

[amtrak-official]

California High-speed Rail has received 2 bidders to build the Trainsets for the High-speed Rail, those being Siemens and Alstom

[decolonize-the-everything]

Reading more of Project2025 and y'all...cancelling federally funded shows that are "too liberal" is on there. Like NPR & PBS

Yeah. Cancelling Sesame Street is literally part of an evil white supremacist plot to overthrow the government. I hate it as much as you do.

Page 247 of the mandate:

Defunding CPB would by no means cause NPR or PBS—or other public broadcasters that benefit from CPB funding, including the even-further-to-the Left Pacifica Radio and American Public Media—to file for bankruptcy. The membership model that the CPB uses, along with the funding from corporations and foundations that it also receives, would allow these broadcasters to continue to thrive. As George Will wrote, “If ‘Sesame Street’' programming were put up for auction, the danger would be of getting trampled by the stampede of potential bidders.” Indeed, “Sesame Street” is on HBO now, which shows its potential as a money earner"

Screenshot of the full page:

[seiya-starsniper]

Every time I see your avatar (the new promo pic of dream) I think “that’s omega dream being all glammed up to be sold off to the highest bidder by his parents” and I can’t help but obsess over it 🙈

oijsfidfjsfisfjiodf CONGRATS ANON I HAVE A NEW WIP 😂 I have written zero things written for it but it's happening. Have a summary in lieu of actual words:

Twenty-year old Dream has just come of age for presentation, and early bidding has already begun to acquire this tantalizingly beautiful, yet sullen omega for a mate. Night and Time Endless are already salivating over the numbers, it seems their petulant omega son who couldn't find a mate on his own, may actually be of use after all. Dream absolutes hates everything about the presentation process. Hates all the photoshoots, parties, and absolutely boring meet and greets he has to attend. Hates that his parents are using him to elevate their status, when really, this is all just a convenient excuse to throw him away. At least he's allowed to dress how he wants! But instead of putting off potential suitors, Dream's moody demeanor and penchant for wearing all black seems to make him even more appealing to would be alpha mates. The question is, who will ultimately win the omega's heart, and will they have the money to pay off Dream's parents, or will they steal Dream away into the night and run off and elope?!

[arsenal16gunnerfc]

So Long, London

23 years old and heading to your 7th consecutive champions league final should make you feel like on of the most accomplished players in the world. However, as you look across the pitch to your ex(?)-girlfriend you cannot help but wonder if that is the case. On the pitch you had been thriving for years, but off it you cannot help but feel like your life slowly slipping away. You have given everything to your career and for some reason it just keeps taking more from you. You see Mapi run towards Ingrid and see Ona and Lucy embrace. You look at your national teammate Esmee and see her laughing at something Frido said. You see Alexia share an emotional moment with her mother and can’t help but feel reminded of the fact that your own mother has never and will never be able to see you lift the trophy, having passed away when you were younger.

You shake the hands of the Chelsea players almost mechanically and congratulate your own teammates on, what is for most, another finale. One where you could possibly be facing your old team. The one who sold you after winning the Olympics back in 2020. The one who deemed you not good enough to keep and happily pawned you off to the highest bidder, which in this case was Barcelona. You cannot help but wonder if your life would have been different if you didn’t leave Lyon. Would you have been different? Maybe you would have been enough for the blond whose hand you haven’t shaken yet. Who had been pulling away from you since the start of the season where she debuted for her childhood club.

At first you thought she just wanted to focus a bit more on her career. You knew she was disappointed that she didn’t get called up for Australia and after two loan spells away from the club she loved most, she was eager to show her potential. Thinking back on it you knew she was already acting distant over the summer, but being so focussed on the world cup you didn’t realise it. When you didn’t see each other much after you had returned home, you figured it was because of her eagerness to start the season the right way. Besides you had gotten injured, so it was not like you could easily come and visit her. However, as the season progressed, and the contact became less and less you couldn’t help but start to worry.

You guys had been each others biggest supporters for years. You watched every game she played in. If you were playing at the same time, you would watch it the moment you came back. Usually texting her when watching or afterwards about how proud you are of her. You ignored the fact that she didn’t respond likewise, thinking she just wasn’t happy with not getting many minutes. 

She didn’t get the season she wanted. Chelsea was not unbeatable, and it seemed like the teams in the league knew it. That’s when the fights started. You were slowly coming back to playing and when you had finally returned to the pitch and even scored a goal, you finally felt a sense of peace again. After receiving many congratulations from friends and fellow players you couldn't help but notice no message from your girlfriend. You were hurt by it and when you mentioned that she just told you that you were already one of the best players in the world and that you didn’t need her to praise you. You had thousands of fans already doing that. You rationalised that she was just struggling and that the fact that you guys hadn’t seen each other in months was not helping your case. Knowing both countries weren’t going to France that summer, you figured that you could fix this then and make up for time lost.

Then the draw happened, which in hindsight seemed to be the final nail in the coffin of you guys’ relationship. She wasn’t there when you played and beat Chelsea in the final in 2022. Maybe that was for the best, back then she was unconditionally rooting for you. It seemed almost inevitable that the first time you would play against one another would be in the season in which she was so desperate to proof herself that she would do anything to win. You didn’t care. You wanted to see her thrive, even if it meant you would have a harder game. 

You didn’t play the home game, only just coming back from your ACL and still building up. You figured that because you weren’t playing anyway you would get a moment to see her, having a bit more flexible schedule than normal. That however was not the case. She didn’t want to see you. Claiming to be too busy and focussed on the game. You also knew that they were on a tight schedule and would be flying home almost immediately after having been told by Niamh. You figured you would probably get a chance to see each other for the return fixture in London. 

However, when you reached out to your presumably now ex-girlfriend to tell her you were cleared for the away game you were left without a response. That hurt, but you could also understand it. You know how important a game like this is. How nervous you were in your first semi-final. You had hoped to be the one she turned to with her concerns and to be there to ease her worries, but that wasn’t the case. Looking at her embracing a girl in the stands who seemed to be the only one able to put a smile on the girls face, you cannot help but fear it never would be again.

Lost in thought you miss Chelsea’s injured skipper coming towards you to shake your hand. You had known Millie for years, having many friends on the lionesses and frequently being in London. She pulls you in and tells her she’s proud of you, asking how your knee is doing. You don’t answer her and keep looking towards the stands. Niamh is eventually the one who captures your attention by hugging you and not letting go. You snap back to the conversation when you hear her talking to Millie, Keira and Lucy who had also come over. 

You tell Niamh you’re sorry and she just shrugs though you can clearly see the emotion in her eyes. Losing to a Spanish team cannot be easy for her after suffering the same fate over the summer. You once again wish things had been different. Maybe you should have tried to sign for Chelsea instead of extending your contract with Barcelona, even though you are a die-hard Gooner. Maybe it would have saved yourself and the people you care about some heartbreak. Maybe then you would have been enough for her. 

Eventually, Alexia calls you over for the team huddle and to thank the travelling fans. After signing some things and taking pictures with the fans you finally make your way into the tunnel. Looking up you finally make eye contact with the blonde you have loved for the last few years. When looking in the eyes that once held nothing but love for you, you know see an emptiness and coldness that almost startles you. But more prominently you see sadness and regret. You know that the next time you visit London it will not be the same anymore.

[fandomtrumpshate]

Wanted: Fandom Ambassadors for FTH2024

Happy December, everyone! The 2024 auction is still a few months away, but for your FTH mods, early-stage planning and organization is already underway.

One thing we're really hoping to step up, this coming year, is our fleet of fandom ambassadors -- that is, people who do some targeted outreach to their own fandom(s) about the auction in order to boost the auction's profile, and hopefully increase the number of creators and bidders who take part.

In the past we've focused on smaller(-for-us) fandoms, but this year we've decided to fling the gates wide for anyone who wants to help us out! Of course we'll be thrilled to get support from fandoms that are less involved in the auction, but if you want to promote the auction to the Star Wars or Good Omens fandoms, that's great too -- the more, the merrier!

Being a fandom ambassador can involve an elaborate coordinated outreach campaign across multiple platforms with a couple of fandom friends, or it can be as simple as boosting the auction to your fandom on tumblr and in a couple of dedicated fan communities. Some of our veteran fan ambassadors will be returning, and they can help you get started and offer some tips.

If you're potentially interested in serving as a fandom ambassador, fill out this form! Filling it out is not a commitment of any kind, just an expression of initial interest — we will get in touch later to follow up.

We're looking forward to hearing from you!

[bunni-v1]

Cureé

Chapter 2: Strange Men Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: Vil is a manipulative older brother; Idia

Info: Vil and Reader; Idia x Reader; Riddle Rosehearts x Reader; Leona Kingscholar x Reader

🍓How exciting that I got the second chapter done. It's considerably shorter, but I hope it's still worth reading. Love you all, enjoy!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02

You sit quietly in your room, drenched in sweat in clothes far too small for your frame. You felt like a child waiting for a scolding. You might as well be. The anticipation of your brother's reaction to your little escapade with Epel was wearing on your mind since the guards set you back into your room.

No one was allowed to visit you, and you weren’t allowed to leave - at least, that's what you assumed the burly guards placed outside your door and windows were for. You sighed – you’d been doing that a bit too much today. 

Left alone with nothing but your thoughts and time, you decided you would ponder about what happened to you today instead of driving yourself mad with worry. 

You turned another year older and had another extravagant party where all you did was sit and watch your guests enjoy it for you. You learned your brother intended to sell your heart off to the highest bidder of jackasses in all of Twisted Wonderland. And… most importantly, you realized that you and your brother are not nearly as close as you thought.

Just how many secrets was he keeping from you? 

Did he banish you from the forest because he knew about that phantom? If he knew why didn’t he tell you about it? Why has he done nothing to stop it until now? What about all the citizens you know who frequent that forest? Was it all right for them to go in with such potential danger?

So many questions swirling in your head, you nearly forgot about the strangest thing of all—that man from the party. You hadn’t even caught his name, but he had made such a lasting impression on you. 

You took the hat he gave you off your head, examining it with curiosity. He knew so much and was so charming and sneaky at the same time. If you were a weaker person, you would’ve fallen for him in a heartbeat. 

His words still echoed in your head, how people wanted to harm you, how he wanted to see you again. You won’t lie and say it didn’t make your heart race a little.

Your door creaked open, and you looked up from the hat, fiddling with the brim of the hat. The long-awaited confrontation has come.

Vil’s face was practiced patience, the perfect queen stood in front of you. Not a hint of what he felt was leaking through his facade, but you knew he was pissed beyond words. He took his seat from the tea table and pulled it to sit across from you, resting in it as if it were a throne.

Were you a regular citizen, or were this a normal day, you would be horrified. However, you had sat with your thoughts long enough to understand you had every right to be leagues angrier than he was.

He stared you down, waiting for you to relent. When you didn’t, he sighed, shaking his head.

“This was a rebellion,” he started.

“Was it? I wasn’t sure. Thank you for letting me know, brother.” you shot back with venom dripping from every word.

“You are angry.”

“You have betrayed my trust.”

“I am doing what I must for the betterment of our people.”

“The betterment of our people includes selling me off to the dragon prince that everyone is afraid of?”

“I am not selling you off.”

“What are you doing then? Vil, he claimed I was his betrothed!”

“He is trying for your hand, as everyone else will, fairly.”

“Who is everyone else.”

He sighed again, clearly frustrated with your unwillingness to bend to him. It felt liberating to see him upset in the same way you had felt upset since your parents died.

“Leona, Riddle, Malleus, and Idia are your main contenders,” he admits, rubbing his temples, "there are a few more, but they don't stand much of a chance."

“I can’t believe you offered my hand to Leona Kingscholar. You do know he hates my guts, right?”

“And I hate him, but his family adores you, and the alliance would be beneficial.”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands, “It’s always about benefits with you isn’t it? Could you not think of what is fair and kind for me for once?”

Your brother did not respond for a long moment, and you thought that perhaps he had left, but then he wrapped you into a tight hug. He hugged you like he used to when you were both little kids, both innocent to the world around you and still afraid of the shadows on the wall and monsters under your beds. Despite all your anger and your unanswered questions, you melted into his arms and cried your heart out.

“I have not been kind or fair to you, and I apologize for failing you in such a way,” he whispered, “you can trust me, my darling. I have never done anything that wasn’t in your best interest.”

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You did not learn much that night, or the many nights afterward. You doubted that your brother would’ve told you much about the monsters in the woods if you asked anyway. It had been weeks since your night in the woods, and things were returning to normal… sort of.

If you ignored the new presence of your new suitors wandering around the palace. Ah, and, your new guards. Courtesy of Riddle Rosehearts. Seems he wanted to get on your brother's good side early, so he sent you two of his kingdom's ‘best’ knights. If by best he meant stupidest.

Ace and Deuce were diligent but incredibly easy to rile up – especially Deuce. Ace spent most of his time trying to do just that, and Deuce always fell for the bait without fail. They were just magnets for trouble, though. ‘Trouble’ being Roseheart’s attention, of course. 

You were in the library with them at this moment, skimming through history books, attempting to find any information about what you saw in the forest. All you knew was that these creatures were fictional in the eyes of the public, but the history books could tell you something.

They weren't proving too useful.

You wondered how that mysterious man found so much information on this creature. First-hand experience, maybe? If that were the case, then shouldn’t more people be aware that these creatures are real?

You sighed, closing another dud of a book on the table. 

“‘Nother loss?” Ace asked from his seat next to you, flipping through a nonsensical fiction book.

You nodded, picking up the next one to start looking through it. You’d been at this for hours and still hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Deuce offered shyly, still not used to being friendly with royalty.

“Nah, let ‘em suffer,” Ace snarked, closing his book with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had some help.”

“We’re not helping you chase a crazy dream, Your Highness,” he teased.

“I believe you princess.” Deuce defended, though he made no effort to grab a book.

“Thank you, Deuce. It’s nice that one of my guards appreciates me and my mind.” You joked lightly, enjoying the way Deuce perked up at the praise.

“Aw, you’re such a suck-up,” Ace groaned, “seriously though, what do you think you’re gonna find in these old history books.” He snatched the book out of your hands, flipping through the pages, “This stuff is hidden, so looking in the regular books probably won’t get you anywhere.”

You sighed, slumping in your chair. He was more right than you’d like to give him credit for, and it frustrated you to no end when you were proven wrong. 

“Hey, don’t give up just yet, we can still find something if we work together,” Deuce assured squeezing your shoulder, and you gave him a tired smile. 

Instead of comforting you as well, Ace stood from his seat with a posh look on his face. Book in hand, he began reading from it in a voice that you assumed was mocking yours. He had his own way of making things easier, you supposed.

It was just what you needed too, to be poked fun at. It was making this process far less arduous. You and Deuce both laughed gleefully at his obnoxious display, so he amped it up, pretending to be more prissy and royal.

None of you heard the door opening through all the noise you were making, nor the clicking of heeled boots and clanking of metal armor until it was too late.

A voice cleared behind the three of you, and you knew it was Rosehearts by the way Deuce and Ace immediately stiffened. You sighed, turning to look at the Duke with boredom, waiting for his routine lecture. 

“I was unaware that your training taught you to mock the princess, Ace, is that what you've learned, or do I have to send you back to the kingdom for remedial lessons,” he said, scowl wrinkling up his otherwise stunning face.

“No sir!” they responded with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“So why do I keep catching you doing just that--”

Riddle's personal guards – Trey and Cater – sent you an apologetic look. You placed a hand on your hip, rolling your head back in annoyance as he continued his lecture. You felt for his people deeply. If this was the man running their country, they were doomed, and you were doomed if you had to wed him.

You weren’t sure how long he went on for, you weren’t listening at all, but it must’ve been an eternity with the way Deuce was sweating. He looked horrified, poor thing.

You would hate to upset your brother again, but you hated little tyrants who didn’t know their place more. 

“If I catch you doing this ever again I wil–” 

“Rosehearts,” you interrupted, “you forget yourself. Screaming so hard you’ve turned red in the face – this is not a good way to win my hand, you know?”

He tensed up, features confused between anger and embarrassment. 

“Ace and Deuce are my friends, and they are my guards. They are doing as I wish, and is that not why you sent them to me?” 

“I- yes. Of course Your Majesty,” though he was still red in the face, he was able to answer calmly enough. 

“Good. Now, you’ve come to the library for a reason outside of scolding my guards,” you shifted topics gracefully. “What can I help you find? I know this place like the back of my hand, so I’m happy to help.”

His face shifted to full-on embarrassment now, clearly not expecting you to handle him with as much ease as you did. In front of his own people no less. 

“I wanted to see your books on equestrians,” he admitted.

With a wave of your hand, you dismissed both sets of guards and gestured for Riddle to follow you. You examined his face carefully as you guided him toward the equestrian section. He was pretty, with delicate features except for his sharp grey eyes. If his personality weren't so horrible, you might say you were attracted to him. 

“I wasn’t aware that you liked horses, Rosehearts,” you commented curiously, trying to see what you could get out of him.

“I do. I have three girls back at home,” he answered, avoiding your eyes, “do you like horses, Your Majesty?”

“I do, but not as much as you, it seems,” you teased lightly watching his face flush, “Riding was my mother's favorite hobby, and she was teaching me before she passed, but no instructor has been nearly as good as she was, so I gave up on trying.”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, seemingly conflicted on something. You watched him curiously, dangerously intrigued by what might have him so in his head. Then, he swallowed and looked into your eyes, “I could teach you. I’m told I’m the best rider in my kingdom, and I’ve been wanting to teach some classes.”

You blinked, pausing in your steps for a moment, which he followed. You could feel his nervousness build with each second you stayed silent, but you didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t expected him to offer such a thing. Perhaps it was just a way to get in good with your brother, but you were too curious now.

You smiled, “Are you trying to make up for yelling at Ace and Deuce?”

He smiled a little back at you, “Perhaps, but I would like a chance to teach someone, and I do… want to get to know you, just a bit. We are politically inclined to get along after all.”

You laughed at that, “I suppose you are right. Then, I’ll say yes to your proposal.”

He grinned, and you found yourself grinning back at him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, just a bit uptight.

“Ah- ahem, the books are just right here,” you said suddenly, gesturing in front of you both.

“Oh, of course, right. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Of course.”

With a nod of your head, you dismissed yourself.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

After your little ‘incident’ in the library, you decided you’d like some fresh air. Just a break from the smell of old books and inhaling cloudfulls of dust. You dismissed Ace and Deuce from duty and made your way into the castle’s garden. Your mother had planted most of the flowers herself, and none of them had been the same since she passed. Somehow, they too seemed to lose most of their life without her.

As you walked, your mind began to wonder back to what you were trying to escape: the phantom in the forest. There was no historical record of them - none whatsoever. At least, not in your records, which meant one of these two things. 

1. They truly didn’t exist, at least not until recently. If this was the case, then the one in the forest was either a fear-filled hallucination or an exception to this rule. It couldn’t be a hallucination, since Epel and the man saw it too, so if anything it was an exception. Though, that didn’t make sense either, since the man seemed keenly aware of everything about it.

2. They had existed for a very long time - long enough to outage you, at least. It also means your brother had purposely removed all mentions of these things, which meant he didn’t want you or any of your staff to find out about it. This meant he knew far more than he was letting on, and he still didn’t quite trust you with this information.

You adjusted the brim of your hat – the one the man gave you in the forest, the look of it had grown on you, though you supposed it was a bit silly with all your fancy dresses. You hoped he would come back for it like he said he would, there was much you needed to discuss with him, and you’d like to catch his name this time.

Truthfully, you needed to speak with anyone who had some experience with magic – anyone but your brother, of course. The staff wouldn’t discuss magic with you they weren’t allowed to since magic was dangerous and Vil was insistent that you would hurt yourself by using it.

You picked up the pace of your walk, feeling frustrated at your helplessness. You were the second most powerful person in this kingdom, and thanks to your brother you could hardly do anything. You were growing sick and tired of his intrusion into your life.

A sickening crunch beneath your foot and a groan to your right halted you in your spot. Lifting your dress to see what you just stepped on, you frowned, turning to glare at the owner of the tail you just stepped on.

Leona Kingscholar greeted your glare with his own as if you were in the wrong.

“Why don’t you watch where yer goin’ mousey,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t you get out of my mother’s petunias!” you snapped back.

He growled but did as you said regardless. Seems he’d rather not sit through a whole lecture, which was smart on his part. You’d learned your lecturing skills from Vil.

“Why would you even be asleep here, you have a perfectly good room that my brother prepared for you.”

“Felt like it, and no one was stoppin’ me,” he replied, adding “Until now…”

“Aren’t you just charming?”

“Look who’s talkin’, you’ve got a mouth on you for a princess.”

“I do, to deal with the likes of you, of course.”

He rolled his eyes, stretching out his limbs in a manner so casual it was practically disrespectful. You have no idea why Vil was allowing this buffoon of a man to try for your hand, but you knew he had no chance in the first place. Leona was brash, rude, and downright lazy. Not exactly the perfect prince, and not the perfect life partner. 

His eyes scanned you with boredom, “Are we done here.”

You blinked at him, pondering something, and then smiling at him, “Actually… you’re a talented magician, aren’t you?”

“What of it?”

“You must know plenty about blot then?”

It was his turn to blink at you as if he was waiting for you to tell him your question was a joke. When you didn’t, he grinned so wide you could see his fangs, busting out in boisterous laughter. Your smile fell into a pout, confused as to what could be so funny. You were serious.

“You’re serious,” he asked between chuckles.

You nodded sternly.

He wiped at his eyes, “I knew your sorry excuse for a queen sheltered you, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

You crossed your arms, frowning, “I don’t understand what’s so funny, I’m being serious.”

“Listen mousey, I’m telling you this because I don’t like your brother, but blot isn’t real. It’s made up to scare little things like you off from using it,” he finally answered, proud as a lion would be, “Start usin’ yer head instead of listening to what that lunatic you call a ruler says all the time.”

He turned to leave at that, leaving you glaring at the petunias in front of you. Before he fully walked away, he decided to shout out, “Your hat looks awful, by the way.”

You huffed, swiping the hat off your head. This whole investigating thing was going to be far more difficult than you thought it would be. Leona confirmed that blot, and phantoms, weren’t exactly common, but he gave you a million more questions to worry about.

Examining the hat in your hands, you hoped that the mysterious man would come and visit you soon. If not for your sake, for the sake of your people. 

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You wound up in the library once more, more frustrated than you had been before. There truly was nothing about these mysterious beasts anywhere. You’d combed over every single book over the past few weeks ten times over and still found nothing. A groan ripped its way through your mouth, echoing off the empty library walls. 

You would get nowhere with this frustration. Your only remedy was the fact that these creatures were not plenty enough to cause an immediate threat… at least, you hoped they weren't.

The door to the library creaked open, and a faint blue glow filled the dark room. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. This topic was consuming your life, wasn’t it?

The person at the door crept in, quietly muttering to themselves under their breath. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was Lord Idia of STYX. The blue fire of his hair was a dead giveaway. You knew the least about him out of all of the men crawling around your castle grounds.

You knew his parents were incredible magicians, and frequently played with death. You know that a curse had befallen him and his far kinder younger brother Ortho. And you knew he tended to slink around in darkness and avoid all socializing at all costs. So seeing him was quite a surprise.

He didn’t seem to see you, wandering around the shelves of books with a scowl on his face. You didn’t want to disturb him, you were tired and needed quiet too. You tried to stand from your seat quietly, but the legs of your chair squeaked.

The blue light flared up for an instant, and Idia whipped around to face you. He looked as though he was about to cry. You gave him an awkward smile, lifting your hands to show you were no threat.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you quickly tried to ease.

He didn’t respond, simply staying frozen and blinking at you.

“I was just leaving, I won’t bother you,” you said, softer this time.

He relaxed a bit, still keeping the frown and wide-eyed look on his face. He watched you as you gathered your things, careful and delicate as any princess should. Quietly scooching your chair back in, and moving with all the grace in your world. You figured you’d just leave like that, but he cleared his voice behind you.

“Ah, uhm, you’ve spent a lot of time in here recently,” he said nervously.

You turned to him with a polite smile, “I have, yes. I wasn’t aware you were watching me?”

He jumped, “I-I wasn’t! I just, uhm, I notice things.”

“I’m only jesting, don’t worry.”

He relaxed again. He was more jumpy than you’d expected him to be, not very fitting of a future leader. His parents had a lot of work to do if they wanted him to succeed.

“What are you researching,” he asked quietly, almost reluctantly.

He was likely trying his hand at courting you since he was one of your suitors, but he wasn’t good at it. It was charming how clumsy he was, a nice change of pace. You chose not to tease him this time.

“It’s silly,” you admit, “Leona laughed in my face earlier about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hunger for knowledge in his eyes. Now, that was unexpected of him. He didn’t seem to be the type to be hungry for knowledge, but maybe you judged him wrong.

“Do you… know the stories about blot, you know the fairy tales our parents would tell us about?”

He nods.

“Well,” you sighed, feeling crazy, “what if they were real.”

You expected him to laugh. To jeer and point and call you crazy, but he doesn’t. His face seems stern, and he is completely serious.

“That’s a pretty bold claim to be making with no evidence.”

You stiffened, his attitude had completely changed. Seriousness didn’t suit him, his face wasn’t built for it, which is why it was so unsettling. He didn’t break that stare on you.

“I- You’re right. I’m just going stir-crazy, being locked up in this room can get to someone,” you quickly explained, not wanting to spend a second longer here.

As you began to leave again, he muttered something that sent chills down your spine.

“You shouldn’t go digging your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Swallowing thickly, you gave him a polite curtsy and mumbled your understanding, quickly stepping out of the room. To think he was being shy and sweet just a few moments ago, what an odd man.

His behavior did give you answers, however. Blot clearly did exist - obviously, since you saw it. However, this proves that it's a hidden subject, and people with power - a few of them at least - knew about it in more detail than they were willing to admit.

That just meant you had a lot more searching to do, and you had to be more careful about doing it.

[penroseparticle]

Extremely stupid D&D Cleric concept I might use for my next game:

Cleric to the highest bidder.

This cleric was a cleric for a God who in concept supports this style of play- say a God/Goddess of Fate or Chaos, Trickery or Wealth. Essentially on most days you are a cleric of that faith and have the domain and class features associated with it Every day after a long rest (or by session, I'd talk to the DM for this), roll a D100. on a 90 or higher, your god has sold your divine clerical goodness to the highest bidder behind the scenes, and you are now a cleric of X God. You have their domain slots, class features, etc. until you complete a task given to you by that god that, by your proximity, connections, power, or current undertakings, you have the most power to complete at this juncture.

Very much if you don't have a homegrown cleric, storebought is fine.

Your god brokers the contract with this other god for use of their divine powers for X amount of days, and your job is to try and complete the assigned task in that time- the spells and powers given will typically be useful in completing it, but if you go over your contract time, you have your regular domain and powers but still have a contract to fulfill. Maybe you get cool one time use of spells or a tip on a rare item or favor with the local church or something as payment for completion too.

It's got great potential for like, punch clock heroics. Cleric working in retail the customer is always right energy. Your city slicker cleric spends 3 days having to extoll the virtues of the forest while being an ecoterrorist and blowing up a sawmill type vibes.

The best bit is that obviously your DM can have LOADS of fun with this- sure it can be random but also your DM can just say hey you wake up with a new contract for plot reasons too. You can suddenly make a challenge easier or harder for the party based on gameplay needs, loop players in to knowledge via divine intervention (literally), tons of dramatic twists availble, etc.