#pre press manufacturer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokisgoodgirl · 7 months ago

Text

No Mercy [Loki x Female Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki interrogates you....sexually. Warnings. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Ceremonial erotica. Fun & Games. Soft! Dom Loki. Established relationship. Light bondage. Denial. (w/c 1.8k)

“Do you plead mercy, little one?” Loki’s voice is terrifyingly calm. If it weren’t for the violently hard erection pressed against his thigh beneath those tight, slutty trousers you might actually believe you were in danger. Deny me, you’d challenged him. Make me break. And he has. And he’s close.

“You’ll never make me talk,” you say defiantly. The layer of fear in your voice is fake, but the tremble isn’t.

It feels like you’re dripping on the bed, knees together, folded to the side, hands tied to the posts. Loki’s eyes flicker to the sheets beneath you as you squirm and a slight narrow of his eyes confirms that yes, you are in fact, dripping on the bed.

You’ve been at this for almost an hour. He’s barely touched you. Just a graze of his tactfully deployed fingers, a blindfold, the targeted skim of his breath and the devastation of his carefully chosen words.

Now the blindfold runs between his fingers as he tilts his head, thinking. “My interrogation requires a little more...finesse, then,” he says, making the blindfold disappear in a flash of green. “A touch more...pressure.’ You whine, yanking the thick leather binds wrapped around your wrists. The manufactured innocence on your face is like blood to a free-wolf and Loki’s lips curl in a wicked smile.

“I’ve been doing this a long, long time,” he says imperiously as he unbuttons a cuff. His long fingers make slow work of folding the sleeve up the meat of his forearm. “I may be a Prince, but an Interrogator of the Crown was my calling, I think. Don’t you?” Your chin rises and you nail him with your stare, hoping your tits look as great as you think they do. You arch valiantly towards his quiet wrath and with a deep breath, you deploy your best 50's starlet impression. “You’ll never break me….Loki Laufeyson.” He releases an exaggerated growl that makes new arousal well between your tightly closed thighs. “Is that right?”

A golden flicker licks from his forehead, the horned diadem unfurling from nothing at all. He’s working on the other sleeve as he swaggers to the side of the bed, taking his time. An oil of sweat has formed on your chest and you squirm for real, trying to break free. “You know how I feel about the horns, oh god-” you mutter, breaking character, clenching as another devilish smile stretches his lips. He stands by your head, crotch inches from your face. So close you can see his cock throb through the fabric. So close you can smell the earthy sweetness of his pre-cum. A low rumble of laughter penetrates the air. “I think you’re closer to defeat than you let on, little one,” he says, drawing a cool finger down your cheek. “Desperate to yield to me, desperate to give in to my demands; to furnish me with the carnal knowledge of your body that I require…that the realm requires.” Against every instinct screaming in your body, you yank your face away. “Perhaps not,” he says bitterly. A wave of dark sandalwood fills your nostrils as the mattress dips and Loki mounts the bed one impossibly long leg at a time.

He spreads his knees while he spreads yours. His face is bladed and angular in shadow, smouldering eyes sparkling beneath his battle-crown of gold.

The god reaches forward and runs his huge palms up the front of your thighs. His touch is electric. You buck up, feeling a web of arousal stick against the bedsheets. Loki glances at it through half-lidded eyes, his trunk heaving with heavy, silent breaths. “You bring this on yourself,” he whispers coldly as a strange object appears in his hand. It looks like a little bell with a round, tapered tip. But heavy. It looks heavy. There's a slight amber tint that warms in the low light.

“My seal,” he explains with an air of condescension. He swings it between his thumb and forefinger. “You will submit to me...one way or another.” He leans closer, dragging the cool golden seal over the curve of your breast and a violent shiver wrenches down your spine. “They always do,' he says. "And I have come prepared.” His eyes follow the metal seal’s descent over the dip of your waist, enjoying the shudders of overstimulation they cause. The graze of his raised markings harden your nipples and you strain your neck to the ceiling as he runs a line down the centre of your stomach and pauses at the top of your mound. The weight between your legs is unbearable; it’s an emptiness only Loki’s cock can fill. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” he murmurs sweetly with those dark brows peaked. But it’s an act, trying to trick you – of course. Oh god, he’s so fucking hot, it’s terrible. Every urge screams to cry mercy and have him fuck you like a victorious king; ride him as you hang onto those horns and make him see double. “Do it,” you spit, clenching your teeth. You yank the leather ropes again. “Pervert.” Loki’s brows rise in genuine surprise, a flash of mirth you recognise skating across his face before his features harden again. Role play with Loki is like nothing else. The king of your heart, but king of the performance too. “Very well,” he says, and the cool roll of metal slips against your cunt. He toys with it, pressing its ridged base against your clit and rubbing it in slow, maddening circles. “This seal has started wars,” he says in the same calm, even tone, “ended them, too.” Your stifle a groan of pleasure as the curved tip dips inside your pussy. Its sharp bite seems to melt inside the heat of your slit. “But you may be my greatest challenge,” he purrs as he slides it from the hole. You whimper as he brings it to his lips, rolling it, moaning in a low inhumane frequency. “And since I have just now claimed you with my crest...perhaps your conscience will allow me to claim you with my cock.” Your will to resist is fading fast. Loki tsk’s with feigned irritation as the seal vanishes and his attention turns to the mess beneath your legs. Arousal sticks to your inner thighs in a glistening sheet.

You groan as he flexes his fingers in front of his face, thick veins standing to attention on the back of his hands. He folds all but two, sucking them between his lips and hollowing his cheekbones in the process like an absolute whore. Without a pause, he curls them inside you and the air dissolves from your lungs in a strangled moan of his name. “Doesn’t count…” he warns. You look at him with your mouth open, brow a map of twitching lines. "You have to say it."

Loki kneels between your legs, as cool as Jotunheim ice, pumping his fingers slowly inside your slippery cunt, thumb sliding against your swollen clit with an arrogant smirk on his face. Your hips rise to meet him on every thrust of his palm. Breath comes in short bursts as you clench around his fingers, back arching into his touch as orgasm threatens to ruin you- He slips them out. “Loki!”

The frustration is real - no need to act. The god’s eyes widen in a shameless caricature of innocence. “I have given you every opportunity to yield to me, I have I not?” He pushes the rolled sleeves of his perfectly fitted shirt higher in a targeted attack. Your legs have begun to tremble at the loss of his touch. “And at every opportunity," he continues, "you have stayed true to your loyalties...which I respect."

The ceremonial sincerity in his voice is sickeningly erotic as he hooks his hands beneath your knees. “But pleasure...true pleasure...is a privilege reserved for those who yield to me.”

The sharp cool of his metal diadem stings your flesh as he kisses your inner thigh. He draws closer to your desperate sex, so close you can feel his breath cool against it as he says, “So cry mercy darling, and it will be yours.” He’s really dialled the drama up to eleven tonight. Instinctually you try and lurch your arms forward to grab the curve of his horns and press him deep into your pussy; mad for the feel of his tongue flat and flawless moving against it. “Oh god,” you whimper, fighting yourself. “Good girl,” he purrs, grazing his parted lips over your swollen labia. It’s too much. “Oh god, Loki…” “Good girl, say it...beg for it,” he spits as he falls back on his haunches and reaches for the button of his suit trousers. He looks so fucking mean.

The beat in your chest has turned to syrupy thumps as your legs straighten and contract on either side of him. “You want to be my good girl…” A pop echoes and his cock suddenly weighs in his hand like a weapon. You’re salivating...actually salivating. He pumps slowly back and forth, jaw clenching, his eyes hard as flints. “Don’t make me finish myself on your traitorous face.”

“Mercy,” you gasp. Loki’s grin widens and it touches his eyes. He licks his lips. “Do you want me to stay in character?” he asks quietly as his clothes disappear- everything but the horned diadem on his head.

His shoulders roll and every muscle in his torso tightens, thighs bulging as he clenches against the punishing grip of his fist. You bite your lip, nodding. His eyes flash. “Well chosen,” Interrogator Loki says. The hard edge in his voice has returned with a vengeance and he melts the leather binds holding you with a wave of his hand. “I trust my faith in your repentance is not misplaced,” he says as he crawls up your body with intent. Loki’s hair swings around your jaw, the scent of him, the weight of him. His length presses like metal against your throbbing clit and you buck your hips, trying to catch him. Every thought in your head evaporates as Loki of Asgard buries himself inside you with a shuddering exhale. Your legs wrap around his hips, forcing his ass down, pushing him deeper.

There’s a thud, and then another one; the curve of his horns beating against the headboard. Loki deploys a wolfish smile as his fingers curl around your wrists. “Can’t take any chances with my minx of a prisoner,” he whispers against your cheek. “No mercy,” you moan into his open mouth. It’s a request he understands as he delivers another targeted roll of his hips. “No mercy,” he replies.

A/N - Have I told you guys how much I love you recently? Because I really do. I hope you know that. x

Tags ( in comments - all of you, soz. Normal way is not workinnng)

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #lokismut #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki oneshot

1K notes · View notes

simply-ivanka · 3 months ago

Text

How the Biden-Harris Economy Left Most Americans Behind

A government spending boom fueled inflation that has crushed real average incomes.

By The Editorial Board -- Wall Street Journal

Kamala Harris plans to roll out her economic priorities in a speech on Friday, though leaks to the press say not to expect much different than the last four years. That’s bad news because the Biden-Harris economic record has left most Americans worse off than they were four years ago. The evidence is indisputable.

President Biden claims that he inherited the worst economy since the Great Depression, but this isn’t close to true. The economy in January 2021 was fast recovering from the pandemic as vaccines rolled out and state lockdowns eased. GDP grew 34.8% in the third quarter of 2020, 4.2% in the fourth, and 5.2% in the first quarter of 2021. By the end of that first quarter, real GDP had returned to its pre-pandemic high. All Mr. Biden had to do was let the recovery unfold.

Instead, Democrats in March 2021 used Covid relief as a pretext to pass $1.9 trillion in new spending. This was more than double Barack Obama’s 2009 spending bonanza. State and local governments were the biggest beneficiaries, receiving $350 billion in direct aid, $122 billion for K-12 schools and $30 billion for mass transit. Insolvent union pension funds received a $86 billion rescue.

The rest was mostly transfer payments to individuals, including a five-month extension of enhanced unemployment benefits, a $3,600 fully refundable child tax credit, $1,400 stimulus payments per person, sweetened Affordable Care Act subsidies, an increased earned income tax credit including for folks who didn’t work, housing subsidies and so much more.

The handouts discouraged the unemployed from returning to work and fueled consumer spending, which was already primed to surge owing to pent-up savings from the Covid lockdowns and spending under Donald Trump. By mid-2021, Americans had $2.3 trillion in “excess savings” relative to pre-pandemic levels—equivalent to roughly 12.5% of disposable income.

So much money chasing too few goods fueled inflation, which was supercharged by the Federal Reserve’s accommodative policy. Historically low mortgage rates drove up housing prices. The White House blamed “corporate greed” for inflation that peaked at 9.1% in June 2022, even as the spending party in Washington continued.

In November 2021, Congress passed a $1 trillion bill full of green pork and more money for states. Then came the $280 billion Chips Act and Mr. Biden’s Green New Deal—aka the Inflation Reduction Act—which Goldman Sachs estimates will cost $1.2 trillion over a decade. Such heaps of government spending have distorted private investment.

While investment in new factories has grown, spending on research and development and new equipment has slowed. Overall private fixed investment has grown at roughly half the rate under Mr. Biden as it did under Mr. Trump. Manufacturing output remains lower than before the pandemic.

Magnifying market misallocations, the Administration conditioned subsidies on businesses advancing its priorities such as paying union-level wages and providing child care to workers. It also boosted food stamps, expanded eligibility for ObamaCare subsidies and waved away hundreds of billions of dollars in student debt. The result: $5.8 trillion in deficits during Mr. Biden’s first three years—about twice as much as during Donald Trump’s—and the highest inflation in four decades.

Prices have increased by nearly 20% since January 2021, compared to 7.8% during the Trump Presidency. Inflation-adjusted average weekly earnings are down 3.9% since Mr. Biden entered office, compared to an increase of 2.6% during Mr. Trump’s first three years. (Real wages increased much more in 2020, but partly owing to statistical artifacts.)

Higher interest rates are finally bringing inflation under control, which is allowing real wages to rise again. But the Federal Reserve had to raise rates higher than it otherwise would have to offset the monetary and fiscal gusher. The higher rates have pushed up mortgage costs for new home buyers.

Three years of inflation and higher interest rates are stretching American pocketbooks, especially for lower income workers. Seriously delinquent auto loans and credit cards are higher than any time since the immediate aftermath of the 2008-09 recession.

Ms. Harris boasts that the economy has added nearly 16 million jobs during the Biden Presidency—compared to about 6.4 million during Mr. Trump’s first three years. But most of these “new” jobs are backfilling losses from the pandemic lockdowns. The U.S. has fewer jobs than it was on track to add before the pandemic.

What’s more, all the Biden-Harris spending has yielded little economic bang for the taxpayer buck. Washington has borrowed more than $400,000 for every additional job added under Mr. Biden compared to Mr. Trump’s first three years. Most new jobs are concentrated in government, healthcare and social assistance—60% of new jobs in the last year.

Administrative agencies are also creating uncertainty by blitzing businesses with costly regulations—for instance, expanding overtime pay, restricting independent contractors, setting stricter emissions limits on power plants and factories, micro-managing broadband buildout and requiring CO2 emissions calculations in environmental reviews.

The economy is still expanding, but business investment has slowed. And although the affluent are doing relatively well because of buoyant asset prices, surveys show that most Americans feel financially insecure. Thus another political paradox of the Biden-Harris years: Socioeconomic disparities have increased.

Ms. Harris is promising the same economic policies with a shinier countenance. Don’t expect better results.

165 notes · View notes

vanessagillings · 1 year ago

Note

I love your art so much!!! I've also been starting to paint with gouache, and I'd love to know a little more about your process! What kind of paints do you use, do you sketch first or start with paint, do you paint in layers over several day or all at once?

Hi and thank you! I hope you don't mind me answering this publicly and apologies for length, but:

MY ART PROCESS!

Supplies: I use winsor and newton gouache and arches cold press paper blocks, usually 140 lbs (the lime green ones) and sometimes 300 lbs (the teal green ones). Even though this paper comes pre-stretched in blocks, I actually take the sheets off and stretch them myself because I've found arches' glue isn't as strong as it used to be. This is how you get watercolor paper to lay flat! I recommend youtubing some videos on how to do it -- there's a lot of great tutorials out there. Also, I use princeton brushes, and kraft paper tape and these boards to stretch my paper. (these aren't affiliate links, I just shop at blick)

A word about art supplies: these are the exact tools I use but everyone uses supplies differently and two people with the exact same supplies might get different results! A lot of it is about what works for you and what you like, so I always suggest that gouache/watercolor beginners just buy a few tubes from a couple of different paint companies and some small pieces of paper from different manufacturers to see what you like. Just changing one ingredient in the above has created massively different results for me, but maybe that'll end up being something you'd like! The first step in learning a new medium imo is to play. Just have fun!

ALSO: gouache isn't super light permanent, check your tubes for which ones hold up to sunlight. Here is winsor and newton's color chart explaining which ones will fade when exposed to sunlight -- all manufacturers will give you this. I only use the colors rated A and AA, and I still frame my pieces with UV glass just to be safe. Not all gouache is re-wettable, but winsor and newton is. I just put it in my palettes and refill my palettes if it runs low. AND SOME PAINT IS TOXIC. A lot of paints have cadmium and cobalt in them. I don't use any of the toxic colors, but if you do, make sure you don't eat while working and wash your hands thoroughly afterwards. This information is also usually available on manufacturer's websites. As more people are rejecting cadmium paint, you'll see more tubes labeled things like cadmium-free yellow. This is why. More artists should be aware that their tools can be dangerous. You don't need that many tubes of paint to begin, just a warm and cool red, warm and cool yellow, warm and cool blue, white and black. I have around 50 colors and use 20 regularly. I always mix all my colors myself, and never use straight tube paint. Most of my colors have about 5-6 different tube colors mixed together. If you use re-wettable paint a tube of paint will last you years; even as a professional I only buy new paints every 5 years or so.

Process: I ALWAYS start with a sketch first. Not everyone has to, but because I do illustration work -- where sometimes a client gets input on a drawing -- I always do a lot of preliminary work before I even begin to paint. At this point, even my personal work usually involves the exact same process:

I start with a 3" or so thumbnail that I scan (left; I traced it quickly digtally for clarity to myself here) and then either clean up digitally or print out and clean up traditionally with tracing paper (right):

Then I scan the cleaned sketch in and color rough it digitally (left, this was for a gallery show, so no one had to approve my color roughs, so it's messy!) then I transfer my sketch to my paper (with either carbon transfer paper or a light table), stretch my paper, and paint (right):

I obviously changed my mind about the color of the ribbon in the trees, ha, and made everything a lot more vibrant. The benefit again of gallery work is no pre-approval!

You are correct, I paint in a series of washes, going from lightest to darkest, where I apply the same color beneath all shapes that are the same warmth (cools under all upcoming cools, warms under all upcoming warms). I paint a piece usually in one or two days, depending on complexity. I didn't take pictures of the above painting, but here's a different painting to show you a little bit what I mean:

I painted the peach color under everything (and twice for skin tones), and the gray color of the sky under everything that would be grayish (the rocks, trees, her pants, her skirt, and coat). I do this to stop me from getting darker lines where two different colors butt up against each other, and also for color harmony. I have step by step photos of this in my process stories highlight on my instagram; also check my FAQ and tip highlights for more info on all this stuff. Most pieces take around 25-30 washes before I start adding in the details (sometimes I add in face details early though because if I mess those up it's not worth finishing the rest of the painting! 😅)

All this might seem like a lot of work (...it is) but I do it so that I can show clients previews of the final piece and so I don't have to repaint the finals. I also used to pre-test all of my washes on scrap paper like this:

I still recommend doing this if you're just beginning! But at this point I only do it when testing techniques because I know my paints really well. (the above was my test for the pine boughs in this piece)

Painting by far is the longest part of the process, so I do more work up front to not have to do it twice. Every piece takes about 6-24 hrs of actual work time to produce. Stretching watercolor paper takes about 24 hrs to dry, and because I sell most of my originals in galleries, they need to be flawless, so planning ahead is useful and in the end saves me time.

And to conclude this novel of an explanation, don't be overwhelmed by all the information I've given you! I put it here so that people at various stages of their artistic journey can maybe find something useful in it. But seriously, the first step to learning how to paint whether it's traditionally or digitally is just to have fun. Try it out, see what's working and what isn't, and then try to solve specific issues that you're struggling with. I've been doing this for a loooooong time at this point, but here's my first watercolor piece from when I was re-teaching myself how to paint traditionally nine years ago:

Obviously, I was destined for greatness. Ha, yeah, no. If you scroll back through my tumblr archive, you can see me learning how to use these paints in real time. And keep in mind that I'd been working digitally for years before then, and years before that where I didn't post my work online at all.

So for anyone who needs to hear it: there's no such thing as talent, just hard work, patience, and trying again and again and again...and sometimes again. What I do is a skill and anyone can learn it. Sometimes, progress is slow. I'm 38. I only really feel like my art was half-way decent starting a few years ago, but I've been making art my entire life, and I went to art school at 18. 20 years later I'm kind of figuring it out.

The best advice I can give, whether it's about art or not, is find the thing you love so much that you'll keep at it even when you suck at it, because most skills you'll suck at to begin with -- and perhaps for a long time. I sucked at art for yeeeaaaaarrrrs. On top of the usual learning curve, I struggled with fine motor control and dexterity. But I loved it so much I kept trying every time I failed. If I can do it, so can all of you, no matter what stage of art you're at now, and no matter how old you are.

Anyway, thank you to those still reading this deep in. I wish you all the best on your artistic journey. Art can kick your butt sometimes, but it's also pretty dang rewarding 💛

#art tips #process #art tutorial #asks

535 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 8 months ago

Note

Hey Steph,

I am in the mood for some really long fics. Preferably not AU as I find those hard to get into. Although, like always, I am open to your all your suggestions.

Loves Seven.

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh, I've a TONNE of long fics, and a lot of them AREN'T AUs! I'm gonna use your ask as an excuse to post a new list, and please check out the other pages linked below! I label if a fic is an AU or not, so just skip over those if you're not up for them! Enjoy!

NOVEL LENGTH FICS: 50 to 100K Pt 4

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

Anxious / Worried Sherlock Pt 2 (Over 20K w.)

Long Pining Fics (50K+) [March 2023]

G,T, & M-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt. 3 (20K+)

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV, Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long fics #my fic recs #50 to 100K

56 notes · View notes

vermillioncrown · 7 months ago

Text

ands snippet: fast and furious

Summary: Vivienne delivers on a promise and expected only the self-satisfaction of a “job well done.” His Dark Grace decides otherwise.

or tldr: the batmobile's first, official iteration gets its christening 😏 (making out + some d/s vibes) this is a write up of this post on how bruce (the batman, really) and vivienne "get together," originally written to entertain @rozaceous (and here's the link to the og concept) the gist is that it's pre-NYE party debacle, ros and vi are practically u-haul lesbians but it's no one's business (not even their authors') how involved they are with each other, and ros and bruce have not resolved their UST yet.

“—and there might be tolerance issues with the panels, but they should be resolved by next month.” Neel Singh, the Experimental Manufacturing lead, concludes his briefing and falls half a pace back.

“We’re not racing the clock, Neel.” Vivienne jots down her thoughts in her notepad, and adds, “The winter holidays are coming up. I don’t expect anything more until February, the earliest.”

“Y-Yes, of course.” After pressing him for continuous updates for the past few months, of course he’d feel discombobulated by the sudden release of the gas pedal, so to speak. Neel pulls out his phone to type a message. “Should I call anyone else to show you around, Vivienne? Someone from Facilities for the test track?”

Vivienne looks up and out past the glass, into the indoor test track where the subject of their discussion sits parked. All aerodynamic sleekness and curves, the diffused polish of a practical matte black coating, and the intuitive physical sense of power and nimbleness in its form…

Now that—that is her son, midwifed by the hardworking and circumspect members of her handpicked team.

A thought comes to mind. “We’re dealing with carbon fiber, yes? RTM process?”

Neel nods warily. “The team assessed it to be the best fit for purpose…”

“Let me see the molds. And I may have some thoughts on the trickier shapes.” At this point, it’s better to do things right than to play coy with knowledge. There aren’t any patents on the line, or papers to publish.

Bless Neel—he’s not the most inspirational team lead out there, but the man can get things done, keeps track of his flock, and does not put them in the line of fire if he can help it. It takes the entire hallway’s length to convince him that no, Vivienne isn’t here to take heads and draw blood. And yes, she does have some experience with composites. Thankfully, what she knows and has retained is relevant enough for their use case.

The setup tour and the technicians present are all of acceptable quality. There’s nothing wrong with their process, per se…

“I appreciate the team’s rationale in using vinyl ester. However, in application, the easier forming and mechanical properties with using epoxy should make it an appropriate trade-off,” she declares her verdict. No one is impolite enough to interrupt her (or they’re not green enough to), but the manufacturing team does exchange serious side eye among each other.

When dealing with technical experts, care must be taken to speak their language. Always acknowledge someone’s hard work, and give good faith that they’ve made their decision with good judgment behind it.

And, of course, one should give explicit reasoning when suggesting an alternative. “We won’t be seeing the same type of corrosion nor UV exposure on average, or most of the expected causes of catastrophic failure”—here, Vivienne meets their gazes directly, pausing deliberately so they get her gist— “will render long-term considerations, hm, superfluous.”

Various noises of scoffing and muffled chortles come from the team before her. “It’s likely to explode, GTA-style, before we care about actual sunlight in Gotham,” someone mutters. “Got it.”

Bonus: appeal to their good humor, show that you’re on their side. Show that if they work with you instead of against you, everyone benefits.

“Then, we’ll put the order in for epoxy instead?” Neel announces to the group.

“Let me liaison with the Testing guys, see which specific one they recommend,” one of the technicians answers while the others debate quietly between themselves. “And we need to check the MSDS for any changes needed.”

“Shouldn’t be much—I think we can relax some of the workflow, too,” another one calls out. “It’ll go a lot faster this round.”

Neel turns towards Vivienne, implicitly waiting for her approval.

“Go ahead,” she confirms. “No rush. You should have enough budget; if not, CC me on any requests.” She waits for Neel to nod before turning back to finish her notes.

One of the technicians whistles low and, undeterred by his coworker’s elbow to the gut, asks out loud, “How the hell are we getting the funding for this? It can’t be government.”

Vivienne pauses, looks up to raise an eyebrow at him. She gives it two seconds—enough to make it awkward but not enough to be aggressive—before answering nonchalantly, “Does it matter? As long as we can all go about our day without the mob brazenly shaking people down in public, or an attention-seeking wack job gassing the streets and locking down the expressway, I do not care.”

The emphasis nets her a “fair enough” gesture and no further questions, with the general atmosphere being one of jocular compliance and satisfaction.

Very good.

She turns to Neel, while announcing to the group at large, “That will be all. Everyone should make sure to confirm with my PA on their way out, so you all can receive your bonuses in a timely manner. Have a happy Thanksgiving.” Then, more directly at Neel: “I’ll meet with Facilities before closing the site for the holiday. Official half-day.”

He gets her unspoken “clear everyone out” order and turns to usher the technicians along, all while starting a phone call with other leads in the testing facility.

---

Vivienne takes the scenic route towards the direction of the Facilities Management suite, walking leisurely to keep her baby in her sights the entire time. She returns absent hums of acknowledgment to the people that greet her along her way, dismissing them when they try to ask if she needs anything, and eventually, the facility is empty.

Instead of turning into the Facilities suite, she goes to the nearby elevator to scan her card and wait.

The building lights dim to their low-occupancy standby state. Then, one of the shadows in the empty hallway distends into a vaguely humanoid form, stalking forward until there’s a glint of whited-out eyes.

Ever the dramatic. His Dark Grace’s penchant for positioning is comically perfect.

“I assume you’ve looped the cameras?” Vivienne tilts her head towards the Facilities suite.

The Batman gives a little, “Hm,” and continues towards her and the elevator.

Yes, duh. Vivienne doesn’t roll her eyes. It’d be wasted on this bat-shaped mime.

She instead flips her notepad to a later page, where she’s noted down the information received from Facilities via email a week ago. Meeting with them was entirely unnecessary. Her mind runs through what would be the most efficient loop of comprehensive testing—and if they waited until sunset, she could set up and open the outdoor portion of the track for “realistic conditions.”

It’s rather easy to ignore the looming shadow next to her—she’s had practice and more important things to think about. Normally, anyone impolite enough to look over her shoulder at her notes would be told to back off, but here she can hope that he’d absorb some proper methodology for fucking once. To be fair, any thought of “proper” leaves her head upon reaching the ground floor of the track.

The so-called “Batmobile” is gorgeous. If not in her heels, Vivienne would have sprinted over to him.

Her beautiful baby boy.

She tucks her notepad and pen away into her handbag, and loops the shoulder strap across her torso. All hands are needed for properly admiring this work of art.

“Ah—the slight ripples Neel mentioned,” she talks His Dark Grace through the visual inspection. “Project Lead Neel Singh,” she adds for clarification, letting him know who and what to satisfy his paranoia. “Yes, the matrix voids will be easier to mitigate with the modifications to their vacuum assistance setup, the tooling support, and of course, not using vinyl ester. More workable.”

She walks around the car, eyeing the front and back tires, noting the height of the chassis, and internally debates the optimum between aesthetics, performance, and practicality.

“Hm. This tire size is special order, but still commercial-off-the-shelf. The concern is that typical road conditions won’t allow for anything lower, but we need to balance the handling with the overall weight…especially since the chassis will be so lightweight.” She backs up and takes in the whole of the car’s form. “I…I’m actually a bit worried—we might not have the right balance between the aero and weight for the CG, being not for track purposes, so we can’t go as low as actual motorsport designs—”

“—then let’s test it,” Batman cuts through her fretting. He’s been following along with her inspection, practically hovering over her the entire time. The fingers of his gauntleted hand carefully trace where she was pointing out, trailing behind her hand’s path. “That’s why we’re here.”

Credit where credit is due—that’s true. At least he didn’t immediately demand to do so; his interjection is a polite ask, the bat and all things considered. And Vivienne wouldn’t have let him within a zip code of her new son if he wasn’t ready to handle. She can allow His Dark Grace some fun, for once.

She takes out the prototype key fob—slow enough to rile up the menacing furry next to her—and clicks. The doors unlock and pop slightly ajar before she dangles the fob in front of Batman.

He’s finally trained enough to be polite during their handovers; he takes the fob from her possession without force, and waits for her to situate herself in the passenger side before getting in himself.

“No helmets. Well, you better not get me killed,” Vivienne says blandly when Batman starts up the car. He purrs, lovely and smooth like a spoiled cat. “Or I won’t offer custom hubcaps. Ones with little bat decals.”

There’s a faint smirk on His Dark Grace’s face. “I’m better than that.” He teases with a brief revving of the engine.

The test track comes into hyperfocus in front of Vivienne; on a whim, she clicks an additional control up top near the rearview HUD of the car that opens up the gate to the outdoor track. She can recognize the adrenaline building up—it’s what follows a good challenge, either mental or physical, and she welcomes it with relish.

“Let’s see it, then,” she nods towards the gate, unable to help her toothy grin in return.

---

Her baby boy “handles,” is what Vivienne can say for now. She didn’t expect the response to be buttery smooth on first iteration, and for something experimental. The seeds of something are present—His Dark Grace pulled them into two hairpin turns in sequence—and coupled with the snappiness, she thinks they have an unpolished gem in their hands. The car is like having a barely tamed big cat, leashed up and ready to let loose on one’s orders.

It’s fucking exhilarating.

The stupid showoff figures out how to manage the car quickly enough. He pulls another turn that lets them slide perfectly against the side of the track into the bay that’s meant to be a small pit area. The uncovered half of his face is not as expressive as he pretends to be, day-to-day, but the expression present is full-on cocky as hell.

(Honestly, Vivienne can admit to liking it—or at least, this is much more tolerable than the public-facing himbo she needs to politely shake hands with whenever he deigns to muck around at the office.)

“Proven enough?” His typical growl is less forced, and more of a pleasant rumble that harmonizes nicely with the idling engine. In the full furry get-up, subtle side glances and all that aren't really possible. His Dark Grace turns to stare at her, goading for a response.

The cowl and the whited-out effect of the lenses are eerie up close, but dealing with the devil is much less intimidating when one has leverage. In Vivienne’s case—he knows she’s capable and motivated enough to possibly add something like a kill-switch to the car, just to fuck with him if he pisses her off. His Dark Grace wants her baby real bad, and with proof of concept she can probably get him to do anyt—

Hold up, Vi, say that again? Her inner Ros stops that train of thought.

“Differential adjustment shou—well. Acceptable,” she gives him the compliment, leaning back into the seat with a more relaxed posture. They never make the ergonomics of them fit for anyone of average height; her hairpin has slightly loosened from how the back of the seat rubbed against her updo, and she pulls the pin free to restyle her hair. She feels the Batman’s stare as he waits, and she keeps him waiting. “You’re competent and quick on the uptake. Adaptive.”

Wrangling the Batman was the equivalent of wrangling a division of egotistical engineers working at the cutting edge of everything—all very competent people that will step on each other’s toes, get in each other’s way, and are too used to being correct that they forget their purpose. The balance was slightly off here, becoming the classical joke of “one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses.”

But everyone has their leverage points, and all are susceptible to The Carrot versus The Stick in personalized ratios and applied judiciously. Vivienne didn’t aim to do anything as Machiavellian as put the Dark Knight of Gotham under her thumb, but that’s where he somehow ended up. She, by sheer grit, found the winning combo of getting him to listen to her—at least when it came to nonsensical designs—and actively soliciting her opinion. She’s not dumb enough to lose that leverage when she sees it in her hands. Maintaining it requires work: showing agreeableness to an extent, with the occasional reminder that he’s in her territory and he would do well to remember it. A little flick to the ego, occasionally.

It helps to put into perspective that, at the end of the day, Bruce Wayne the Batman is nearly five years younger than her. Engineers and technicians under her, the ones ranging from two to ten years younger, with a plethora of tertiary degrees between them—her mind can’t help flagging them as “children” until they temper themselves with a real project, from bid to deliverable.

So, of course her brain demoted the fucking CEO of her company and its parent conglomerate to being a “boy” as soon as he called her Lucius’s PA. She has found no evidence contrary to that ever since. With him neatly categorized, accounting for unique attributes and handling, Vivienne knows very well how to deal with “boys,” because she wouldn’t have gotten this far otherwise.

“Hah. If you had wrecked my shit, as with your typical M.O., maybe I could’ve gotten a nice dinner out of you tonight.” Her tone is intentionally sharper, diction and accent more crass with the habitual New Jersey attitude rather than her usual featureless cosmopolitan speech pattern. Dusk was here, steadily eating away the evening hours as autumn progressed. They’ve stayed later than she anticipated, but…

…for once, in a very long time, she was having fun. The evidence is on her teeth—she was grinning wide enough to catch some of her lipstick on her canines, which her tongue can clearly feel the slick of it.

“Well. We’re done here. Keep up with”—she gestures at the whole of him with a dismissive hand— “that well enough, don’t piss me off, and maybe you’ll earn your new toy by the end of next quarter.”

That whole posturing—after prolonged proximity and the hot-and-cold of seemingly hard-won praise versus snide dismissiveness—is supposed to make His Dark Grace harrumph and skulk away.

Today, he grabs her hand. It’s not violent or anything, but he doesn’t touch her. She’s lost her temper enough to jab her finger in his cowled face, and he’s been taken aback enough and in the position to let her. He’s never touched her.

That—that’s not in the script.

His Dark Grace continues to stare at her, his exposed jaw not quite clenched enough to denote a possible temper tantrum incoming. So, she minutely cocks her chin up, adding a slight challenging tilt to her expression with a raised eyebrow and the slight baring of her teeth in a sneering smile. What are you doing? Are you really—really?

He has her wrist with his left hand, and his full attention and facing is towards her. The right hand comes closer. And because he doesn’t pull her that she lets him, it’s so much closer until—of all fucking things—she feels the gauntlet leather past the corner of her mouth and pressure on her teeth.

The thumbpad has her lipstick stain on it from him wiping it away.

She scoffs, half-between a laugh and an incredulous squawk, and tries to tug her hand away. It doesn’t budge. “How badly do you want this car?” The tone isn’t right—wrong mix of scathing versus levity. And yet, it seems to draw him in closer, the tireless masochist that he is. “Didn’t I say ‘don’t piss me off’?”

“I’m hoping to do the opposite.” This close, he doesn’t bother with the growl at all. He’s almost inaudible over the engine. The lipstick-stained gauntlet cups her jaw, the thumb carefully avoiding her skin, and he leans in when she doesn’t resist.

What the fuck. What is happening. Did he bug the apartment, overhear the sleepover-bullshit talks with Ros?

It’s fascinating, clinically speaking. From what Vivienne’s heard of local gossip, especially among the secretary pool and their particular brand of romantic fantasizing, the Batman is expected to be rough. Wild. He’s supposed to fulfill all sorts of “tall, dark, and handsome” daydreams and lonely imaginings at night, along with fighting crime—what a busy guy.

So, to have him soft and insistent at her mouth, but more like asking for permission than forceful, is a fascinating gap between expectation and reality. He’s not a shabby kisser at all; the playboy types usually have something else going on that makes everyone else do the work for them, and they get to reap all the pleasure. That is apparently not the case here.

Eventually, he pulls back so they can breathe and reassess.

Vivienne looks. She really looks—his face may be mostly covered, he’s still staring, but he’s flushed, visibly steadying his breathing, and her lipstick stains his mouth in a viscerally appealing way that makes her want to lick her teeth. He’s paradoxically much more exposed than she is.

And with that, His Dark Grace is really such a pretty boy—something Vivienne has constantly lamented with Ros over for his pissy attitude. He’s perfectly amenable now, though.

“You really want this,” she says this again, her free hand coming down to pat the console between them and leaning closer.

He’s still a cheeky shit, though. “I want it,” and tilts his head again, ready to close the distance at her say-so.

She means the damn car, but— “Then you’ll have to work for it,” and she closes the distance herself.

#phd-verse #on ands #verm bits #so uh. what am i up to rn? (besides this)#still finishing my document (380+ pgs now)#i ended up running some additional experiments bc i'm insane #and i'm still waiting for the various admins in my life to fucking give me my paperwork and aehrohewohrowehofsd #and and trying to not commit homicide before i graduate :)#but back to the snippet---i hope this is some interesting insight into the whole thing

28 notes · View notes

duckprintspress · 11 months ago

Text

Gorgeous Merchandise to Accompany an Awesome Anthology!

It wouldn’t be a Duck Prints Press crowdfunding campaign if we didn’t have super cool merchandise to accompany our spectacular anthology of outside-the-binary characters exploring aetherpunk worlds, Aether Beyond the Binary. We worked with some really awesome creators this time, and we’re so excited to share the art they’ve done and the merch we’ll be making with it!

Hologram Plant-Loving Robot Sticker: this adorable plant-watering bot graces the back cover of the wrap-around cover by Mar Spragge, and they and the plants they’re watering will sparkle and shine on this rectangular, shimmery, holographic sticker. 4 in x 4 in/10.25 cm x 10.25 cm. (Printed by Vograce)

Aether Music Magic Bookmark: this lovely glossy bookmark features artwork by Pippin Peacock on the front and the signatures of the contributors to Aether Beyond the Binary on the back. 2 in x 7 in/5 cm x 17.75 cm. (Printed by UPrinting)

Aether Dux Die-Cut Sticker: it wouldn’t be a Duck Prints Press anthology without a custom Dux designed by Alessa Riel. Dux is our non-binary company mascot, and for this campaign they’re decked out with crystals and machinery and ready for aether flight. 3 in x 3 in/7.5 cm x 7.5 cm. (Printed by Vograce)

Non-Binary Sky Whale Enamel Pin: this lovely pin depicts a celestial whale moving through a starscape, with the non-binary gender sign dangling by a chain from they’re mouth. The artwork for this pin is by Atomic Pixies. 2 in x 2 in/5 cm x 5 cm. (Manufactured by Alchemy)

BONUS MERCHANDISE! That adorable plant-loving robot? We’ll be making it into a key chain as our Patron-exclusive extra! All $10/month and $25/month patrons who also back the campaign will get this cutie to hang from their keys!

Our campaign, which launches on December 26th 2023 (four days from when this post goes up – soooooon!) will include backer levels with all this merch, and also pick-and-choose add-on options. We’re also offering a trade paperback AND a premium hardcover edition of this book – our first anthology published as a hardcover! There’s loads of other add-ons too – our past anthologies (as e-books or in print!), a short story bundle of works by Aether Beyond the Binary contributors, 5 (FIVE!!!) of the adorable dux plushies by EmpowerFantasy Plush, one-of-a-kind wands by Alessa Riel, and more.

We’re days away from launch – follow our pre-launch page and get notified when the campaign goes live!

#duck prints press #aether beyond the binary #merchandise #mar spragge #pipping peacock #alessariel #atomic pixies #enamel pin #enamel pins #bookmark #non-binary #nonbinary #non binary characters #non-binary characters #non-binary pride

38 notes · View notes

sorcerous-caress · 10 months ago

Note

Hii I’m back with thoughts on the modern loser: You mentioned one instance of tying him to his chair in his home office and sucking him off even though he tries to keep that space neat and tidy in case of any webcam meetings. Now I am here to propose a consideration to you: You’ve stayed the night over the weekend and into the weekday, and he’s in the midst of a work meeting when you wander into the doorway. The computer is between him and you, with you standing behind it off screen and out of webcam view, but directly behind the monitor he has to look at and thusly in his peripheral. And for a moment you just watch him, observing that mask of graceful indifference he puts on when he’s playing the role of “Noble High Elf”, when you get the idea to test just how durable that mask is.

His eyes flickering and snapping up to you when you start to slowly run your hands over your clothes body, following the curve of your thigh then up tracing the bend and swell of your hip and waist. Over your belly, digging your fingers into your chest until your flesh bulges between your fingers a bit. Then back down the way you came but this time you slip your fingers under the hem of your shirt when they start to wander back upwards, slowly peeling back to bare the gorgeous soft skin you know he loves pressing his fingers and mouth (and cock) against. Painfully slowly pushing your shirt up to your collarbone, watching in coy amusement as his jaw goes tight and his eyes flicker with a wild helplessness as he fights to maintain his composure. Maybe even an inkling of a flush starting to creep into his cheeks.

Cupping your chest in the cradle of your fingers and kneading, grinning when his pupils dilate until only the faint ring of his irises are visible. Jiggling your body a little bit for him before dropping your hands to the waistband of your pants to give them the same treatment. Pushing the material down to your knees so everything between there and your collarbones is exposed for him. You barely even have to touch yourself at this point, just the sight of you standing there functionally naked has made that hazy, desperate expression you love pool in his eyes and you just know he’s already staining the inside of his trousers with his pre-cum just from your little mini-strip tease. His voice already sounds wrecked as he rasps out a haphazard excuse to step away from the meeting, fingers fumbling to mute his mic and freeze his camera before he nearly throws himself out of his chair, advancing on your naked body like a starving man would to a feast.

—🩵 Anon

Bullying a loser high elf is a full time job

Maybe you have no idea just how important of a position he holds on. He has never told you his last name after all, so you totally didn't recognise it all of those times you've seen it on newspapers or even on the tv news.

Elf embasidor to the human city? An important figure in this manufacturing company? A renowned scientist for his discovery in this one field? A whole dean of a prestigious elven college that recently started accepting humans? You don't know.

Like you've guessed he was rich a bit by human standards. He has a nice apartment and a car and can seemingly take time off whenever? But nothing made the impression that he was rich rich.

That's because you haven't seen the amount of money his human obsession burns through. He can't publicly buy things on his own, so he has to pay someone to pay someone to eventually get him that gas station human porno mag.

Elves are also really expensive- at least high elves are. Wood elves wouldn't have a cent to their name even if you robbed them at gunpoint. So Meluidil definitely thinks a banana costs 10 dollars because that is what they charged for it back in his home, inflation gets crazy when everyone and their grandma has the retirement benfits salary of 1000+ years.

That's why their economy is self contained. High Elves don't buy things unless from other elves so they don't crash the market. And smuggling human goods to him didn't come easily at all.

So since you have zero clue about all of this, you just decide to slowly chip at his sanity by teasing him whenever you see him busy with work.

Maybe he gets an important call from office and he can't ignore it? What's a better way to spend your time then to lock eyes with him as your hands slowly move down between your legs, fully touching yourself in front of him and edging your orgasm as he stares with his red ears twitching.

He's trying not to stutter, to keep this noble high elf facade with the caller. You can see a slowly growing stain on the front of his pants where his hard cock is pressing against. Meluidil's mind is blanking out as he helplessly has to stand there, leaning against the doorway and watching you masterbate. The second his call is over, he's barely registering the beeping coming from his phone before he's throwing your legs over his shoulders and meeting the heat between your legs. Sucking and licking as if it's his own true purpose.

Another time, when he was in a video call meeting in his home office. Something about how different he looked at they instance just drove you wild. He is usually so adorable and mellow around you, all needy and clingy.

But sitting on that chair, he was anything but that. A serious face, a proud stance with his chin lifted slightly and long ears on display. The hint of condcendion in his voice that all high elves are known for. Everything about him screamed nobility and high class, not once did he yawn or lower his posture. Each word was spoken carefully and each syllable held a melodic hint to it.

The people in the meeting listened when he spoke, waiting their turn and never daring to interrupt him. Even by the off chance someone was rude, Meluidil never raised his voice and it only took a look of discontent for them to immediately apologise for their inappropriate behaviour.

High elves truly represented power, wealth and social status in human societies. To even work besides one is a special opportunity because they have been alive for so long and have so many experiences and connections.

And here you are, staring at this all powerful high elf. Just out of range of the camera view on his laptop as an innocent smile graces your lips.

His breath audibly hitches when you're finally down to your underwear, fingers toying with the sides as you give a faux look of contemplating if you want to push it down or not.

He can see the hair trailing down your pubic area to disappear under the seam of your underwear. The way your shirt is pushed up to your chest, displaying yourself for him.

Meluidil's eyes widen for a second before he immediately realises how forward he has been leaning and fixes his posture, schooling his features back.

Oh but you just started, how much you'd love to moan his name and beg him to help you with this unbearable need between your legs. Beg for the powerful superior high elf to come help this needy human with their heat, they're just a helpless human who can't cum by themselves and they need this elf to fuck them into an orgasm.

But you take pity on the subtle begging look in his eyes as he nods towards his computer, you have mercy after all.

So you settle for slowly stripping off your remaining clothes. Stretching a bit as show off your body proudly, feeling his intense gaze on you, his hungry Lustful looks.

As a final touch, you walk clower to his desk, just a hair away from where the camera could see you. You bend down and pick a pen from the floor, giving him a full show and everything.

Leaving the pen besides his hand, his fingers almost shaking from this unbearable torture you're subjecting him too.

Eyeing the space between his legs under the desk, you look back at him. He's instantly catching on to what you're planning on doing, and despite what his rational mind is screaming at him to do, he can't help but spread his legs further and subtly unbuckle his pants for your to crawl between.

But you just smile, turning around and leaving him there with a painful ache.

#♡Meluidil #♡human kink #♡human reader #♡smut #♡modern au human kink #♡modern loser high elf #♡🩵anon

31 notes · View notes

psalm22-6 · 4 months ago

Text

The International Distribution of Henri Fescourt’s Les Misérables: Universal Pictures, the Carl Laemmle-Victor Hugo Scholarship, and a surprise appearance by William Hays

Sometimes it happens that two movie versions of Les Miserables are made and released at the same time. It happened first in 1909, when both the Edison Manufacturing Company and the Vitagraph Company of America released versions. It happened again in the 30s, when Raymond Bernard released a version in France, at the same time that Richard Boleslawski made his version in America. And apparently it had almost happened in the 1920s. In 1925, Henri Fescourt released his version of Les Miserables. The movie is notable for being in four parts and close to six hours long. Meanwhile in America, Universal Pictures founder Carl Laemmle was apparently thinking of doing the same thing. In 1923 he had huge success with an adaptation of Notre Dame de Paris, starring Lon Chaney. "Some months ago I had in mind making into a photoplay, Hugo's great classic, Les Miserables,” Laemmle said. “When I learned that the Societé des Cineromans were already engaged in the production of this work, I investigated and found to my great satisfaction that it was being done most admirably. Having in mind our mutual desire to share the better of European productions with our American patronage, I arranged to distribute the picture in England and America.” (the Universal Weekly, 11 December 1926) At the Regent Theatre in Portsmouth, England Fescourt's Les Miserables was recut and shown in two parts: “The Soul of Humanity” and “The Barricades.” It was reportedly very successful: 18,000 and 19,000 people were said to have seen the first and second parts, respectively. And that’s despite 80-degree weather and competition from a carnival, a regatta, and the start of the football season. People were apparently lining up 2 and a half hours before the show in order to get in. At the Rialto Theatre in London, 14,200 people came to see it in its first week. (the Universal Weekly, 2 October 1926). In the US, the movie was initially shown in three theaters: to the Associated Advertising Clubs of the World at the Forrest Theatre, in Philadelphia, to the National Press Club at the Poli's Theatre in Washington and finally at Carnegie Hall in New York City. Some sources say that the film was shown in full (18 reels), some say that it was cut (to 14 reels). The Philadelphia and Washington showings were attended by the French ambassador. (The Moving Picture World, 10 July 1926). In attendance at the Washington showing were First Lady Grace Coolidge, Herbert Hoover (then Secretary of Commerce) and MANY other people whose names you can find here.

However the showing I would most like to have attended was the one at Carnegie Hall, which was presented with a special pre-show portion: an actor portraying Victor Hugo appeared on the stage, and then pretended to fall asleep, at which point actors dressed as characters from Les Miserables emerged from a giant copy of the book. “The Hugo speech and the resurrection of his characters were part of the Universal presentation given Les Miserables by James V. Bryson and Joe Weil,” reported the Moving Picture World. “The idea was taken from the original prologue in the picture itself and made an effective opening for this really fine production.” For the film's wider release, Laemmle proposed to conduct a survey to see how people would prefer to see it: in its entirety or in an abridged form. Apparently he distributed a questionnaire via the Saturday Evening Post, Liberty, and Photoplay Magazine. Overwhelmingly people reported that they would like to see the movie unabridged, and that they would be willing to go to the theater multiple times to see the multiple installments. Wagner's Ring Cycle was cited as an example of a story successfully told in parts. People felt very strongly about wanting to see the entire thing. As one journalist, who had seen the screening in Philadelphia put it: “It would be, it seems to us, a pity to subject this picture to the sort of ruthless cutting that would be necessary to bring it down to the length of a single feature. Great length usually consists of unnecessary padding, in a large measure, but not in this instance.” (the Motion Picture News, 10 July, 1926) In the Universal Weekly (a trade publication for theater owners) one ad reads:

Thousands gave the overwhelming answer [to the question of whether it should be cut]: “DON’T touch Victor Hugo; don’t rob us of a single scene of pathos, beauty, or magnificence; give us the immortal Jean Valjean as he lived, suffered, loved, and triumphed.” So “Les Miserables” will come to you in two distinct stories, for showing on successive days, or weeks, as you see fit. First, “The Soul of Humanity;” second, “The Barricades.” Each picture so big it ranks as a screen achievement; together — Victor Hugo as Victor Hugo would want to see his work on the screen. A radical step! Yes — and it is the RADICAL that is SHOWMANSHIP!” (the Universal Weekly, 2 October 1926)

However despite this declaration that the film should and would be seen in full, Universal ultimately decided to release an 11 reel cut. As the Moving Picture World reported: “At first the two-part proposition was voted so strongly that Mr. Laemmle was on the point of ordering the print cut that way and a campaign looking toward this distribution of the picture started. But later advisors won the day. He reconsidered at the last moment. The picture has been cut to eleven reels and Carl Laemmle now announces that it will be distributed to theatres next season as a single super-special.” But Laemmle wasn’t done. He had plans for another way of exciting the public’s attention: the Carl Laemmle-Victor Hugo Scholarship. It seems that originally Laemmle had intended the contest to be for college students, as he had purportedly reached out to over 700 universities to ask if they would participate. But ultimately it was decided that the contest would be open to high school students in the United States and Canada, with prize money intended to be used in furthering their education. A similar contest was to be held in the UK, where prize money could be used for university or an apprenticeship. Students were invited to submit a 500 word essay answering the question: "What ideals for life do you find in 'Les Miserables?'" To prove that the author was in high school, the essay needed to be accompanied by a letter from their school principal. A reporter for Universal Weekly opined: “The choice of this subject is regarded as a happy one in that it gives a present day aspect to the characters and motivations of Hugo's romance. It is said to be excellent also for its scope, and not of such a nature as to hamper students from certain sections of the country or from certain walks of life.”

Ad in the Saturday Evening Post. For the US & Canada contest, it was announced that there would be ten $500 scholarships and one $1000 grand prize, for a total of $6,000 in scholarships (that’s over $100,000 today). The number of scholarships available was increased when Jean Sapene, of the Society of Cineromans also made a contribution of $3,000 (The New York Times, 14 Aug 1927.) According to Laemmle, the contest was not “any form of blatant advertising” (source) and yet…it was definitely an advertisement. Though technically entrants didn’t need to see the movie to submit an essay, the contest was great advertising for the movie and additionally, it elevated the profile of the movie by branding it as educational, salutary even, not simply entertaining. In “City of Dreams: The Making and Remaking of Universal Pictures,” Bernard F. Dick writes that Laemmle wanted to be known as “a defender of the values derived from a liberal arts educations” but that “those values did not exist in the abstract; they had to be present in a film Universal was releasing. [In creating the scholarship] Carl was not especially interested in Victor Hugo’s novel Les Miserables but in Henri Fescourt’s 1925 film version that Universal was releasing.” “Much thought and discussion with my associates convinced me that an admirable way to [increase the general appreciation for Victor Hugo’s creative genius] would be through a student’s essay competition,” stated Laemmle. “This would entertain on the part of the entrants something more than a casual reading of the book and impress them with the value of character as exemplified by the life of the novel’s hero" (Niagara Falls Gazette, 18 October 1927.) The scholarships would be awarded by Dr. John J. Tigert, United States Commissioner of Education; Dr. Ernst Crandall, Director of Visual Education of New York City; Dr. Thomas Finnigan, Chairman of Visual Education of the National Education Association; and Octavus Roy Cohen, an author of “ethnic comedies” (and yes that's as bad as it sounds.) The head of the awards committee was Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler, president of Columbia University (Butler would later win the Nobel peace prize but is remembered today for his notable silence in the face of the growing Nazi movement). The letter from Butler accepting the role of judge was published. Here is an excerpt:

My friend, Mr. Will Hays, has sent me your letter to him of November 9th with its kind suggestion that I should act as one of the judges in the interesting and highly useful competition that you propose for high school students. I have written Mr. Hays that it will give me great pleasure to accept your suggestion and to serve your cause to the best of my ability.

If you didn’t catch that, that’s William Hays, who the Hays code is named after.... So while I most strongly associate the 1935 American film version of Les Misérables with the movement to sanitize films and remarket them as educational, we can see that Hays and others were laying the ground work for that with this 1927 release, the scholarship contest, and an advertising campaign that sought to involve educators and students. In cities across the United States, special screenings were held for students and teachers, sometimes at a reduced price, supposedly due to the educational merits of the film (and definitely not in an attempt to sell tickets). Libraries and bookstores handed out hundreds of thousands of bookmarks (designed by the Cleveland Public Library) advertising the film, in addition to entry forms for the contest. In Charleston, South Carolina the high school superintendent wrote an article in the newspaper about the movie. (The Motion Picture News 28 January 1928). In Buffalo, New York school officials endorsed the movie and the superintendent distributed information about the scholarship. (The Motion Picture News 25 November 1927). In Boston the premiere was attended by the Governor, as well as 18 school superintendents (Motion Picture News, 18 November 1927). And in Houston, Texas students in the French and literature classes were given extra credit if they attended the movie (Moving Picture World, 31 December 1927).

The bookmark in question (Moving Picture World, 24 December 1927.) So who won the contest? One of the $500 prizes was awarded to Alfred Hollander, a student of Emmerich Manual Training high school in Indianapolis, Indiana. He came in 5th place.

(The Indianapolis Times, 23 April 1929) And the first place winner was 14 year old Edwin M. Snell, a student at Central High School in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

(Exhibitors Herald World, 11 May 1929) But the real winner was Universal Pictures, which surely made buckets of money. And that’s all I have to say on the subject for now, except for to thank @mabeuf5 and @l832 for reigniting my interest in this topic and that I’m sure we will be hearing more about this from the two of you soon.

#les miserables #lm 1925 #lm in education #lm in america #sorry this post is so long #all mistakes are mine and mine alone

17 notes · View notes

dailyanarchistposts · 3 months ago

Text

Feeding Soul, Freeing Soil

“...all of us will come back again to hoe in the ground... Or hand-adze a beam, or skin a pole, or scrape a hive — we’re never going to get away from that We’ve been living a dream that we’re going to get away from that. Put that out of our minds... That work is always going to be there.” — Gary Snyder, in The Real Work: Interviews and Talks, 1964–1979

In the pre-industrial world, food was the basis of human life. If not deserving of outright ceremonial worship, then certainty food was not something just taken for granted. Sure, this was probably out of pure necessity of survival, and due to technologies in our culture we have more of a margin of error. But I have to wonder when I consider the mindlessness with which so many of us purchase, prepare, consume, and dispose of food, if the “privileges” of convenience and effortlessness are really worth the consequences. On psychological and spiritual levels, the disconnect between our daily lives and the source of our very existence — the raw material that fuels our bodies and minds — has an effect that is both profoundly symbolic, and frighteningly real.

Most of us would agree that food is a catalyst for family and community bonds. Without it, the very fabric of our cultures comes unraveled And we can see that happening today. We have no time to cook, and even less time to eat. Our culture’s fixation on efficiency and timesaving makes it impossible for us to appreciate what goes into producing it. In our ignorance, we demand produce that is not seasonal or bioregional, the transportation of which fills 4 million trucks a year, which use $5.5 billion worth of fuel, and spew 4 million tons of pollutants into the air. The average distance food travels from farm to fork is 1300 miles! (Rodale, 1981) We demand certain tastes at a snap of the fingers, even if it means transporting a spice thousands of miles, or using large amounts of oils pressed from genetically engineered seeds half a world away. We demand to be able to cook rice in ten minutes, which requires industrial processing that removes all the nutrients from the grain. Most meat-eaters in modern society don’t ever see the animal until it ends up packaged and in the grocery store. All these “conveniences” reinforce a dangerous sense of detachment and alienation.

One of the most revealing metaphors relating to modern society’s culinary dysfunction is in our dependence on processed foods. People would be more whole eating whole foods, not fragmented and refined commodities with isolated nutrients added back in. Food in its natural state evolved alongside human beings, and when obtained directly, it provides us with all we need. Food processing is an unnecessary obstacle to nutrition that benefits the long line of manufacturers, packagers and advertizers who take 90% of every food dollar, mediating our physical sustenance.

Lack of vitality is a major component of malnutrition from modern food sources. Grown in depleted soils with chemical fertilizers to mimic fertility, the plants become dependent on the chemicals to survive. Similarly, when we eat a lifetime of nutrient- depleted food our bodies become dependent on pharmaceuticals. Just like in the forest, agricultural soil health can be seen as an indicator of the health of the entire system, of which we are a part. If the soil is depleted of nutrients, so is the food that grows in it, and so are those who eat it.

8 notes · View notes

mydayinthebuilding · 4 months ago

Text

Make Me A Different Person (spiderman!jongseob x gn mutate!reader)

CAST LIST

You as The Experiment… Y/N (unknown last name)

Kim Jongseob as Peter Parker… Jongseob Parker

Hwang Intak as Harry Osborn… Intak H. Osborn

Haku Shota as Ned Leeds… “Soul” Leeds

Choi Taeyang as Michelle Jones… Taeyang M. Jones

Choi Jiung as Harley Keener… Jiung Keener-Stark

Yoon Keeho as President of the Anti-Spiderman Club… Yoon “Pres” Keeho

youtube

ACT ONE: PART ONE

“Ow!”

"Watch it, loser!"

The door had opened right into your outstretched hand, and your knuckles screamed in pain, but you desperately tried to control your breathing as Eugene Thompson--aka Flash--scrambled past you. You glanced back at his burly figure and spiky blond hair thudding down the hall, bumping into everyone he could and blaming it on them. You shook your head, and carefully reached for the door again, quickly pulling it open.

You headed to the back of the classroom, holding your hand tenderly.

"Well, Y/N," started the teacher, and you looked up to see that no one else was in there. "Almost all the other kids just left to go on that field trip." He noticed you were in the back of the room. "Have a seat up here. I'm surprised you didn't go--after all, you're one of my top students."

You took a seat in the front, unzipping your backpack. "Yeah, well, I'm fine in your class, Mr. Kang, but science class is a different story."

He chuckled. Then he shrugged into his words: "I didn't have much planned today, so you're free to work on another class... science, perhaps?"

You nodded. "Will do."

You looked down at your hand that Flash had smashed the door into. It was still throbbing and red around the knuckles, but luckily didn't break open any skin. Then you checked the faint Light underneath the skin on your wrist, and took a calming breath when the energy dial was low. It will be fine, you reminded yourself. You shook out your arm, then pulled out your laptop.

The tab currently open was a few of your photography club pictures. You'd had them done for days, but thinking about showing them to anyone gave you goosebumps. You closed the tab, and opened the class site.

Your science teacher had posted an assignment for people not going on the field trip; that included you and only you. As you looked through it, you knew she'd done it simply to irk you, because you were learning about plant biology, not the chemistry behind a spider's venom. Of course, it was clear that the field trip was also useless, since your peers that went weren't required to take notes.

But you weren't about to go on that field trip. They were touring Oscorp, the second best robotics and chemical manufacturing company in the States.

Oscorp was also home to many of your fears. Sure, spiders were freaky, and their robots were always a little creepy to you, but they weren't even half of what truly scared you.

Suddenly, you noticed you'd been pressing the keys down hard, and the screen in front of you was full of the home row letters. You blinked, and put your head in your hands. Palms pressing on your eyes, you tried to focus on the shapes in your mind so you could stop thinking. But every flash of color was like memory lurking just below the surface.

It's going to be fine.

The door opened, and you looked up, eyes readjusting to the light through a squint, and met eyes with a couple students whose pleasant smiles quickly turned to upturned noses.

Your stomach lurched.

A batch of juniors that just so happened to hang with Flash--apparently they'd grown up with him, and kept hanging with him even when he got held back. So, of course, they loved to bully whoever he decided wasn't worth his time.

And that included you.

You felt your muscles tense up, and your heart rate was increasing ever so slowly, but you knew that you'd be fine with Mr. Kang in here--

"Oh, good! You just needed those copies for your project, right?" Mr. Kang said, getting up. "You can stay here and keep an eye on Y/N, though they probably don't need it, and I'll go print those for you."

"Yes, sir," said Julie. She cast you a nasty smile. "Thanks."

And soon enough, you were alone with a gang of bullies. Your hands squeezed into fists as your thoughts turned dark.

There were four of them in total. A tall football boy with greasy blond hair past his ears folded his arms and flexed his chest over them. You thought his name was Connor. A girl holding a phone in front of her face ruffled her coffee-brown hair so she had an extreme side part, and then stuck out her tongue and its piercing for a picture. You didn't remember her name, but knew her follower count was impressive. Then there was Julie's boyfriend, Riley, who had his arm across her shoulders and his chin held high in the air.

But Julie was the clear leader when Flash wasn't around. She held herself so confidently, and twirled her long red hair with one finger in a way that almost seemed like a threat. You swallowed, and gave the best smile you could muster, then glanced back down at your screen. With tense muscles, you sat there praying.

It's fine, you're fine, you're calm, you're normal, you're fine!

She marched over to your desk, but you were glued to your seat in fear. When you met her eyes again, they were livid.

"Good morning," you said. But maybe you really should have stayed quiet this time.

"Does anyone want to take a guess at what percentage of the work done here began in Mr. Osborn’s notebook?”

“Probably one percent, tops,” said Flash, snickering. “If his straight-C's son took after him, that is.”

“Anyone else?” Liz said, shaking her head. She was technically supposed to be learning with the rest of the sophomores, but she was an intern there. They asked her to take the group on a tour, and thanks to her confident smile, Jongseob couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She tucked her dark wavy hair behind her ear, and he watched her bright eyes search the group. He didn’t notice that she’d focused on him. “Jongseob?”

“Sorry?” His face heated up as he glanced away. “Um, seventy percent?”

She grinned. “That’s more like it.” He felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled especially brightly in his direction.

Soul leaned over his shoulder and whispered, “Dude, do you think she’s into you? That was-“

“Shut up, Leeds.” Jongseob nudged in the side. Soul leaned away, laughing.

Liz shook her head once more at another kid, and then Intak raised his hand.

“90 percent.”

“That is correct! Mr. Norman Osborn is the main mastermind behind this company’s projects. Of course, Intak would know more about it than me, but…” She gave a close-lipped smile. “If you’ll look here…”

Soul patted Intak on his shoulder. “Flash just shot you the nastiest look. Should I fight him to defend your honor?”

Jongseob and Intak blinked at him. He hunched over.

“Yeah, who am I kidding? I’m not street smart. I can’t give up my perfect school report to defend you.”

Intak shook his head in a chuckle. “Either way, my father doesn’t reflect what I’m like in school. Flash has a point. I get B’s in my first language, and my dad comes up with all the latest ground-breaking technology.”

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about that," Jongseob said with a laugh. "How could your dad have come up with all of this? He's just a guy."

Intak shoved his hands in his pockets. "You'd be surprised."

“Now, if you follow me to the next room,” Liz announced, opening a door that Flash immediately strutted through, “you’ll be able to see work on the neutralization of deadly spider venom.”

The class gasped a little at the sight of webs strung across the entire room. Flash tensed, and froze in the doorway.

“These spiders live the average amount of time and can eat the same things as usual, but their venom is engineered not to hurt humans in any way.”

“L-let’s go to the next room,” Flash said, backing away.

“Not yet. Are there any volunteers to hold one of these little spiders?”

Jongseob glanced at his friends, but Soul shook his head hard. Intak crossed his arms and smiled sweetly. “Jongseob will!” he called.

His heart dropped. “No, dude, what?”

“Don’t you think it would impress Liz?”

“Come on, Jongseob!” she said.

And then he found himself pushed to the front of the group, presented with a spindly arachnid hanging by a string. Its beady eyes stared down at him, legs wiggling as it lowered itself. It was like it knew what was happening. He held a shaking hand below it, every part in his body already tingling in anticipation and, honestly, fear. He knew it wouldn't hurt him, but he couldn't get over the thought of eight legs crawling all over him.

And then it hit his skin. The whole class seemed to shiver in excitement, watching the nerd hold a bug half the size of his palm. But it did nothing. They just stared at each other.

"See?" Liz offered. "It's entirely harmless."

Jongseob allowed himself a calming breath, and then laughed. It inched down to his wrist. "This isn't so ba- Ow!"

The spider went flying through the air as Jongseob looked down at his wrist in shock. It bit him! It wasn't supposed to injure him in the long run, but the bite was right beside the Light. He shifted his sleeve a little and watched his veins pulse strangely, before reverting back to normal.

"Hey--Jong-" Liz rushed toward him, reaching for his hand, but he flinched away.

"I'm fine! Haha, don't worry. It's not like it'll kill me."

Her brows furrowed, but then she nodded, and turned to the screaming group trying to get away from the rampant spider. Flash was nowhere to be seen.

He looked back down at his wrist. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He swallowed, hard. Then he rushed out the door, knocking into Intak's shoulder on the way. Where were the restrooms? He barely made it to his own stall before collapsing over the toilet, gagging.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." You patted down the entirety of your backpack and quickly realized your chip wasn't in there. It was like an inhaler for your "episodes", and every time you got too confident in yourself, you let it go missing. And right now wasn't a good time for it to be.

A shudder passed through your body, and your jaw clenched so hard, you thought you might crack a tooth. You glanced at the juniors, and knew immediately that this would be bad. You just had to leave--

"So, Y/N, I hear you got a perfect score on the science homework," Julie started with a smirk. "Oh, wait, you didn't even turn it in. Thanks, by the way, for lending it to me."

She sat on your desk, and you immediately stood up, accidentally pushing your notebook off the desk. The juniors gasped. All you could feel was your blood rushing in your ears. She scoffed, and her friends stepped closer to you.

"It's not like you needed it. Are you going somewhere?"

You tried to take a slow, calm breath, but it sounded angry.

"Got--to--go," you managed, before shoving past a couple of them. They reached out to grab you, but recoiled from your skin. Your arms were rock hard--not because of any muscles, but because of the episode that was beginning. You had to get out of there, before you exploded.

You pushed open the door in a hurry, revealing a shocked Mr. Kang and a stack of papers going everywhere. You couldn't even squeak an apology, and instead tears began to stream down your cheeks as you ran.

"Julie? We need to talk," you heard him say, and then you rounded a corner and slammed into the fire retardant box on the wall.

Its door went flying, and you didn't even bat an eye until you reached the restroom and could splash your face with cold water. You couldn't even feel it, which was a really bad sign. But you kept doing it, hoping that it would reverse the effects. When you started feeling the chill, you stopped, and ripped a paper towel from the dispenser to dry off. You hadn't even noticed the water had splashed all over your front side until then.

"Great." You grabbed another paper towel and tried to pat off the wet splotches on your shirt, but it didn't help. You caught yourself in the mirror and laughed. You were a sight to behold, for sure.

Your eyebags were the biggest thing on your face. Your eyebrows were drawn in a permanent scowl. Worst of all, you could still see the uncontrollable fear of yourself in your eyes. You were disgusting--horrible. You could imagine the headline: "UNDERCOVER FREAK OF NATURE INFILTRATED HIGH SCHOOL." Thanks to Julie and her gang, you were always on edge, wondering which day would be your last at this school. Sometimes you resented her for the fear. Today you found yourself wishing she had won this time. Maybe then you wouldn't have to hide. Maybe then someone would hear you out.

Maybe then you'd get help.

But as you stared into your own soul, you knew there would always be something wrong. You couldn't be fixed. A monster that hid under its own bed was better than a monster running free.

There was a knock at the door, and your head flung toward the sound. "Y/N? It's Mr. Kang."

Your voice stuck in your throat. Glancing down to your wrist, the dial seemed to be cooling down. You shuffled your feet to the door, opening it shakily.

When he saw you, he sighed in relief. "I'm glad you're okay. I had my suspicions about Julie and her friends, but I didn't know they had a problem with you."

All you could do was nod.

He pursed his lips. "Let's go talk to the principal."

You followed him, the sound of shoes on the floor echoing in your ears, but all the while you wondered how you weren't spotted yet. How did he not realize you were the freak? If anyone deserved to be bullied, it was you.

"No one deserves to be bullied, Y/N," he said suddenly. You blinked, and he chuckled. "That must be why you stayed quiet about it, right? Well, you're wrong. You are a great student and a good person."

"Thanks, Mr. Kang." There was really nothing else to say.

"So, you're being bullied? Homework stolen, a couple of sharp words, and you've been physically hurt before?"

"Yes, sir." You looked down at your hands, tugging your sleeve further over your wrist. Mr. Kang had gotten you a dress code sweatshirt to replace your soaked one. It gave you little comfort when speaking to the principal like this.

"I'm thankful for the report." The principal cleared his throat, and finished typing. "However, Y/N, I can't let your own behavior slide. Not fully."

You snapped your eyes upward, suddenly feeling a tingling in your body. You struggled through a calming breath, but your eyes clouded up anyway. "Sir?"

It's fine, it's fine.

"You broke school property today. The fire retardant case is completely smashed on the floor. I'm afraid you'll have to pay if off. Since you're a great student and I don't totally blame you, only worry about two hundred bucks of it."

You released a shaky breath, nodded, and reminded yourself that they really couldn't know anything was different about you. Hardly anything really went wrong, and accidents happen. You could pay this off, and then no one would have to pry further. If only you had the money.

“Hey, Jongseob?”

Jongseob squeezed his eyes shut, tears wetting his lashes. He clutched his stomach gently, leaning a little bit more over the toilet. He was on his knees, keeled over in a public stall, and he’d forgotten to close the door. Well, it was too late now.

“Jongseob, are you in here?”

It was Intak. He wanted to sigh in relief, but every movement he took made him more aware of the nausea building up. He glanced at his wrist again, but the bite was still very prominent.

Can’t harm him? Yeah, right. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He’d always pretended to be the same as everyone else. But the light on his wrist was proof of otherwise. He suddenly gagged, and ripped his hand from his stomach to the toilet seat to brace himself.

The episode came and went, but then he saw that the entire front of his shirt had come off with his hand now on the cool ceramic. Fresh air met his sweaty chest, and he took a steady breath.

Footsteps approached quickly, then, and he knew immediately that Intak was there.

“Oh, man, are you okay?”

Jongseob’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. He wasn’t necessarily a cool guy in front of his friends, but this was sort of humiliating. The son of the creator of these spiders witnessed him basically overreact.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, hanging his head.

No answer. He heard paper rip and water run, and then Intak came back over and pressed a damp towel to his forehead.

“Don’t be sorry. A lot of times the placebo effect really does affect you like this. You know it’s not gonna hurt you, but some part of you still fears it, so your body reacts.”

Jongseob tensed, and finally looked up at his friend. He was shocked to see a kind smile, where there normally sat a reserved frown.

“It’s totally normal, it’ll be fine.”

“I want to go home.”

Intak nodded. “Let’s go. Where’d your shirt go?” Then he spotted it. “Ah.”

“I don’t even know.”

Somehow Intak snuck him out of the crowded building, and got him an extra lab coat to cover up with, no problem at all. He was starting to feel much better, and wondered if he should say he’s fine to go back.

But they were already in a taxi headed to his Aunt May’s house, so he let himself recover. He pressed his palms against the leather beneath him, and stared out the window at the city flashing by.

Oh no—Aunt May! That would not end well. If she saw him come home early looking so sick, she’d ask questions. He knew logically, it wouldn’t be a big deal to lie a little bit, but he also knew he was a terrible liar.

“My dad will pay for any healthcare you need, if you do.”

He sucked in a breath. “No, no, it’s not a big deal. I feel much better by now.”

Intak laughed, “Good! Because explaining this to him would honestly suck.”

Jongseob believed that. Mr. Osborn was a stern man, and he could guess that he wouldn’t be too happy to hear his project was having negative effects. He’d probably care more about silencing this incident than Jongseob himself.

But that wasn’t a big deal.

“Woah, you can’t even see the bite anymore!”

Jongseob jumped and looked down, and realized it really was gone. Like nothing happened. Maybe he really had imagined it. He sighed, looking out the window once more. Intak patted his shoulder with a similar sigh.

The taxi stopped, and Jongseob realized he was staring right at his house. He started, and thanked Intak sincerely, offering to pay him back. As always, that wasn’t an option. Intak waved goodbye and Jongseob turned to face his front door alone.

Unfortunately for him, Aunt May spotted him through the glass of the door almost immediately.

“Jongseob!” she exclaimed when he opened the door. “What- what are you doing back here so early?” She threw down a pile of folded towels—it was laundry day—and reached out to caress his face with soft, cool hands. “You‘ve got a fever.”

“Just a small one, but I guess it was enough to leave early.”

Her forehead creased and her worry lines grew deeper. Before she could say anything, he continued.

“Honestly, I just wanted to leave. It was boring and had nothing to do with class. I have homework to do.”

She stepped back, eyeing him with suspicion. “Alright. Well, help me carry these up to the bathroom and then you can get on with that schoolwork.” She wagged a bony finger in the air, and a smile began to form on her lips again. “You’ve got to keep your scholarship, or you’ll be getting a job!”

Jongseob relaxed, and took the towels with a forced smile, hurrying up the stairs. “Love you, Aunt May!”

“Oh, get on with it!”

But once he’d ducked into the bathroom, he realized there really was something wrong. The towels wouldn’t drop. It was like he was… sticky.

part one out of six.

taglist (let me know if you want to continue being tagged): @foggypkryptonite @thecarnivaloflies @zendieya-8 @harmonys-bunny @fullsunstrawberry @marleymade @hw4ngss @chuuswifereal @horangipoweryummyyummy @the-kpop-simp @blue-lumiere @yereneee @hrts4seobie

#title inspired by the song by h&d #p1h #p1harmony #spiderman #kpop #marvel #spiderverse #marvel x kpop #spiderman!jongseob #I HAVE SPIDEY SEOB STUCK IN MY HEAD ALWAYS #apologies for the long wait i am shockingly terrible at. everything lol #please comment your thoughts--I'd love to include your headcanons in future parts!#mr kang is kang minhyuk from cnblue btw

9 notes · View notes