#the long con....the bait and switch....

[beemovieerotica]

im really out here with 30,000 words of an ostensibly Stede/Ed fic, but Mary and Spanish Jackie are getting an explicit sex scene before Stede and Ed even hold hands, and that's really what feminism is all about

[probablyintensemuses]

Hey, Brother

Armando Aretas

🎧- Story of My Life: One Direction

summary: Armando’s your older brother, here’s how you meet, past and present.

themes: extreme angst and fluff. A bit of violence. But mostly found family and sibling love.

authors note: completely convinced he’d be an amazing older brother. There is a 8 year age gap between reader (20) and Armando (28). Also shout out to my older brother…I wuv you 💞😭 Also yes I know i switched a few things around. Just enjoy it. If you want a part two, lemme know!

Read Part two here

Four Years Ago

Miami Florida University

The night on campus was quiet, the only things to be heard were the comforting trill of crickets and the soft waves of the ocean, only three miles out from the college.

Armando sat idle on his motorcycle, twelve beats away from where he’d been told you, their next victim, worked.

This entire time he’d been killing people in the name of the Aretas family, he couldn’t understand why Mike Lowery, some beat cop came last. And why his mother was resorting to taking his daughter as bait.

What made Mike so important that he deserved a fight for his life, for your life?

“Mamá, no entiendo, ¿por qué ella?” Armando says through his phone.

Isabel sighs on the other end. “Con el tiempo, hijo mío.”

“She’s just a kid.” Armando sighs, pulling out his ipad and looking at your photos again.

From what he gathered, your were a first year nursing student here at MFU, you got great grades, danced for a kpop club, and worked part time at the cafe he was currently parked out side of.

But most importantly, you were Mike Lowery’s daughter.

Which, in the grand scheme of things, shouldn’t matter.

But for some reason, to his mother, it did.

“She's a pawn,’ Isabel hisses. “Mike necesita conocer el dolor de la pérdida; this will show him.”

Armando nods, taking a deep breath, feeling the same incorrigible anger rising up in his pit again at the sound of Mikes name.

This man had stolen everything from him: his family, his dynasty…his father.

Though his didn’t understand his mother’s methods, he’d never question her madness.

This man took everything from them, it’s time he learned that same pain, and as much as he didn’t enjoy hurting innocent… you were the key to getting even.

“Lo haré mamá.” Armando said, watching you finally exit the cafe.

“Muy bien.” Isabel said, hanging up.

Armando pushed off on his bike, riding a bit down the narrow street before hanging a right and turning back around.

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a needle. Whatever was in there was strong enough to knock out a bear, so it should have no problems sending you, a small college freshman, into a deep sleep.

Swiftly, he drives forward, accelerating until he just passes you before he makes an abrupt stop, cutting your path off.

You fall back and onto your ass.

You help as you hit the pavement, lifting your small hands to access the damage that had been caused by you cradling your fall.

You hiss at your bleeding palms before looking up at Armando in sheer disgust.

The heat of your gaze causes Armando to flip up the visor on his helmet, something in your eyes giving him pause.

He wasn’t a vain person in the slightest, but something about your eyes, when he looked in the mirror, they were so similar to his own that it nearly startled him. They were the same shade of chocolate brown covered by thick, dark lashes.

His observation of you quickly dries as your curse at him. “What the hell, dude! You could have killed me!”

Armando doesn’t say anything, instead he offers you a hand.

Reluctantly, you take it.

Just as your nearly up, Armando pricks you with the needle.

Your face drops as you snatch your hand away from him.

You look down at your palm, a single trail of blood dribbling down your wrist from the spot he pricked you at.

“What the fuck,’ you wobble, turning to run down an ally.

Armando watches as you attempt to flee, he knew it wouldn’t be long before you passed out.

And as he predicted, ten steps in and you were slumped against the moist ally ground.

He picks you up, slinging you across his shoulders, carrying you towards his bike and driving off into the night.

Later…

When you awoke, you found yourself bound to a chair in a large, abandoned house. You wiggle against the binds, only scathing your wrist even more.

You scream out, panic rising in your chest as your breaths shorten.

"Help!" You scream. "Someone help me!"

"Help is on the way, princessa.' A slick voice says.

You turn and see a beautiful woman taking slow, slutry steps down the staircase towards you.

"Who the hell are you?" You croak, scooting away from her the best you can in this damn chair.

The woman, grips your chair with one hand, while running another through your curls. "Your fathers la venganza.” She hissed.

“Don’t touch me,’ you bite. “And my father did nothing wrong, you’re lying.”

Isabel grips your chin, hard. You try and wiggle free but it’s no use as she pulls you close.

She turns your head from side to side, the warm evening sun causing a glint in your eyes.

“Always the eyes,’ she mumbles. “He gives all of his children his eyes.”

“What?” You question, breathlessly.

Isabel forcefully lets you go, leaving a sore spot on your chin.

Your mind reels around her words and the weight of them.

She was your father’s revenge, why? And had she been the one to shoot him all those months ago?

And all of his children. Your father only had one child, you.

Looking around the wear house and seeing all the sage and candles burnt, the circles and alters, you could tell that whoever this woman was, she was crazy and you wanted no parts.

The thought was enough to make a few screams come out of you.

You stamp your foot against the ground, “Let me go! Let me the fuck go!”

Isabel rolls her eyes at you, mumbling something in Spanish before she shouts, “Armando, ven a llevarla antes de que la mate yo mismo.”

Quickly, the man for the other night emerges.

“No,’ you scoot back in your chair as far as you could. “No.”

The man, Armando, grabs you out of your chair and drags you up the staircase.

At the top of the staircase, he slices your binds loose but still has a good hold on you.

Now, you by no means are a good fighter, but with your dad being police, you know a few things.

So as Armando unlocks a door, presumably to put you in, you stamp on his foot as hard as you can.

Armando yelps at the sensation, doubling over, giving you enough time to kick him in the legs and send him down on the ground.

As soon as he hits the floor you take off, running down the steps as fast as you can.

In the foyer, you check for the exit in front of you, but the door is locked.

Your head is buzzing, you didn’t have much time as Armando would be up soon, probably ready to kill you, and that Isabel, who knew what she’d do if she caught you.

You had to move fast, and the window behind you, seemed like your best bet.

You scurried over me to it, working frantically as you tore wooden planks off the window.

You about all got your face out the window before strong arms wrap around your waist living and pushing your back.

You scream as you hit the ground, coming face to face with a less than pleased Armando.

“Enough games!” He shouts.

You crawl backwards, afraid he’ll hit you…or worse.

“Okay!’ You whimper. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” You squeak as he towers over your shaking body.

You fully expect him to return the blows you’d given him earlier, but to your surprise he doesn’t. He just grabs you up again and takes you back to that same room.

Shoving you inside he gives you a parting word.

“Do that shit again, and I won’t save you.” He slams the door, leaving you alone in a windowless room, wondering how you’ll end up dead.

In all the enemies your father has had, none of them had mad it a personal mission to kidnap you…so why had they?

Fingers toiling with the dirt around you, it finally clicked.

This was a set up.

You were bait.

And just as fate would have it, you could hear what sounded like your father and Marcus crowding in the foyer downstairs.

You stood up, running towards the door and banging on it like a madwoman.

“Help! Dad! Uncle Marcus!” You shout, slamming your fist against the door.

When the door flies open, you expect to see one or both of them there, but you see Armando.

“Come on.” He grabs you. “Nice and easy.” He places a gun to your temple.

“Stop, why are you doing this?” You whimper, taking careful steps down the stairs.

“Why did your father start it, hm, princesa?” He questions, pulling you in front of your family.

“Dad!” You shout, tears pooling from your eyes.

“Let her go, Armando!’ He shouts, turning to Isabel who stands elated. “She’s a kid.”

“We were all kids once, Mike. It’s why she must have her turn.” Isabel says.

Mike shakes his head, drawing his gun at her, Marcus doing the same to Armando.

“You kill me, he kills her.” Isabel shrugs.

Marcus adds, “then I’ll kill him.”

“Then it’ll be a blood bath.”

You whimper, “please don’t hurt me.”

Armando tightens his grip on you. “Cállate.”

“I just want to go home, daddy.” You cry.

Mikes hand shakes as he hears your pleas. “I know, baby, and we will.”

Isabel smacks her lips. “Liar!” She shouts, lunging at Mike.

Mike dodges the hit, but Marcus’s gun going off starts a cataclysmic event.

Everyone who wants present before suddenly emerging from the darkness and letting off their weapons.

You scream, falling back into Armando, who lifted you off the ground with one hand while shooting with the other, as the chaos erupts around you.

“Marcus!’ Mike yells. “Get Isabel, I’ll get my daughter!”

Marcus sprints, to the best of his ability, after Isabel, while Mike makes full way towards Armando.

In a dark room, Armando drops you, pushing you into a corner.

“Don’t make a fucking sound.” He threatens.

You whimper in a comply.

You hear your father, Mike, burst through the doors, calling your name.

You do as Armando says, though, keeping quiet, afraid anything you do or say will get you and Mike hurt…or worse.

You watch from the dark corner as your father searches the room, only seconds later Armando jumps him, landing a blow.

You watch from the sidelines as they traded blows back and forth.

And it hurt to watch your father in a fight, it did, but what hurt most? The words slipping from his mouth.

“Armando,’ he said. “I’m your father.”

Your head was buzzing, spinning.

What the fuck did he mean this man was his son? How was that even possible?

Your heart raced as you watched Armando’s face fall, confusion lacing every corner.

“You’re lying,’ he said lading another blow, bending down and dragging your father out of the room and into the burning hallway.

You weren’t sure if it was adrenaline or curiosity, but you needed to see this through, hear it for yourself.

You push to stand and creep after them.

Armando has your father at the ledge, his shirt balled up working his hands.

“Last chance,’ he croaks, eyes searching. “Who are you?”

“I just told you.”

“Lie again.” Armando growled, wrapping his hand around your fathers neck, applying pressure.

You gasped, stepping forward, but a hand cautioned you to stay hidden.

You turn, finding Marcus’s comforting eyes as he mouths, “Don’t do it.”

"He needs us," you whisper in protest, Marcus's arm staying firm on yours.

"They need this, just wait."

You relax, only a little watching the scene unfold.

"Ask your mother if you don't believe me." Mike croaks.

Armando turns, loosening his grip on Mike, and in a turn of lightning, Isabel appears, mumbling in Spanish.

"Es verdad lo que dice?" Armando questions his mother.

Isabel shrugs. "No es importante. Mátalo.' her eyes drag over to where you and Marcus stand. "Entonces ellos."

Armando shakes his head in frustration. "Es mi papá?"

Isabel's eyes darken, her words fleeing her mouth more rapidly. "

"Is he my father!" Armando shouts.

Something in the way your father laid limp in Armando's graps, the fire and smoke building around you all, and the life you once knew just yesterday crumpling around you had you desperate for the truth.

"Tell him!" You shout.

Isabel pays you no mind when she says, "yes."

Three letters.

One word.

That was all it took for your world to shatter.

You had a brother you hadn't known about, a brother who drugged and kidnapped you.

all of his children have his eyes.

A brother your father had behind you and your mother's back.

The realization made your mind splinter, picking up in your chest with each shortened breath you took.

Tears pooled in your eyes, making the scene in front of you blur and sharpen, wax and wane.

It's not until a shout and commotion caused you to dial back in, where you find Isabel pointing the barrel of her gun directly at your chest.

You're too frozen to move and put your hands up to brace yourself for the pain, for death.

But it never comes.

only the sounds of four shots ringing out and blaring in your ears, that's the only sensation you get.

You move your hands from your eyes and find Isabel falling over the balcony to her death and Armando on the floor, his shirt filling with blood as Mike, Marcus, and Rita crowd around him.

It clicks then for you, he took that bullet for you, he stepped in for you against his mother.

This family was dysfunctional as hell.

"Get over here!' your father calls out to you. "Now!"

You scurry over, tearing off your flannel and placing it on Armando's wound.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" Rita shouts.

"Go with Rita!" Mike shouts towards you.

You nod, locking hands with Rita and rushing out of the burning building.

Once outside, you look behind yourself to find Mike and Marcus dragging Armando's body and placing him on the ground, applying pressure to his wounds.

The rain clouds your vision as you draw closer to the van waiting to take you away and back home.

"Is he going to be okay?" You ask, holding your wet and naked arms.

Rita sighs, ushering you into the car. "I don't think that's something you should have to worry about.' She smiles softly. "Get some rest, kid. Okay?"

You nod and shut the door, feeling the car jerk before it pulls off and away from the chaos.

You fasten your seatbelt and lean your head back against the headrest.

Perhaps Rita was right, maybe worrying about Armando wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it was best for you to shove it down and let your dad deal with it, like he did everything.

Because you didn't think your heart could handle any more than what it was already going through. Thinking about Armando, your father, and Isabel...it would only weigh you down more.

So you decided to leave them all at that building that night, to burn up in the flames.

At least you tried to...

Four Years Later

Miami Florida University

"Please tell me you're coming to this party tonight?" Your friend, Kiesha, asked over the phone.

You chuckle, climbing the last flight of stairs to your apartment. Your father, Mike, had got it for you as gift for being in your last year of college.

“I can’t, sorry.’ You place the key code to your apartment and the door unlocks. “Lots of studying to do.” You half-lie.

“Girl, all you do is study. You know college is not actually for school.” You can practically feel her rolling her eyes.

You drop your bags on the counter, pulling out a pack of ramen noodles and starting a pot of boiling water.

“That’s easy to say for someone who’s only half majoring in, what is it, communications?” You comment.

The line goes silent for a minute before Keisha comes back.

“Wow,’ she scoffs. “I get that you’re stressing out with finals and you know, your dad being a fucking fugitive and all, but you don’t have to take it out on me.”

You run a hand through your hair, it getting tangled within your curls towards the end.

“Kiesh,’ you groan.

“Save it. Have fun studying.” She grumbles before hanging up.

“Fuck!’ You shout, turning and tossing your phone down the hallway.

Your grip at your hair and tug slightly, shutting your eyes you feel a hot tear slip out.

It had been a whole week since your father and uncle Marcus were deemed fugitives and accused of doing God knows what. It had been hard for you and Christine.

Knowing your father, you knew the allegations weren’t true, but another cover up, same as Captain Howard.

Still, you know it was bullshit meant nothing to the “adults” in charge. They saw him as guilty, and that seemed to be the end of it.

You turn, wiping away your tears and placing your ramen into the boiling pot of water.

It wasn’t the best, but it was all you could stomach these days, the fear of your family's future causing your appetite to slim.

You twirling the noodles in the water with a pair of chopsticks, watching the five minute timer chime by. It all but captivated you into a trance until a creak against the floor caught your attention.

You turn your head, peering down the hallway you had just thrown your phone. Staring into the darkness, you see a figure moving towards you slowly.

You gasp, grabbing a large knife and holding it out in front of you with shaky hands.

You would call for help, but unfortunately your phone was in harms way.

“Don’t come any closer,’ you squeak.

The figure doesn’t respond, it just trudges closer and closer to you until it’s emerged into your kitchen lighting.

At first, you have to squint real hard to make out who it is, but then, when you catch a glimpse of his eyes, so hauntingly like your own, you know who exactly it is.

Your brother, Armando.

You don't drop the knife, keeping it held high as you slowly approach him. You'd seen how vicious he was, and you weren't taking any chances with him.

Closing the space between you two, you could see that he's in full tactical gear, covered in blood.

He takes another step towards you, you step back, before collapsing onto the ground and passing out.

You rush towards his side. “What the hell!” You rip open his vest, finding all kinds of stab wounds and lacerations littering his body. “Armando!” You shake him.

He doesn’t respond, you shake him again, harder this time, and a tiny black book falls out.

You open the book and find your address on one sheet and another sheet addressed to you.

Don’t hate me, babygirl. I’ll explain everything soon, until then, you two lay low.

Be strong for me.

Love, Dad.

You could scream, you could actually fucking scream right now.

No way this motherfucker sends this other motherfucker to your house for you to nurse back to health.

You crumple up your father’s note, chucking it across the room.

Looking down at Armando, you watch the slow rise and fall of his chest as he lay unconscious.

It was obvious he was loosing blood, and you could let him bleed out and pretend you tried everything.

But then again, he saved your life before…and he didn’t even know you.

Guilt tugged in your chest at the thought.

“Fuck.” You breathed, throwing your head back.

You knew what you had to do.

You figured lifting him would be hard, he was bigger than you by a long shot and was basically deadweight.

You tapped him, shook him, slapped him…hard, but nothing woke him up.

Looks like you’d be operating on the floor.

You stood, gathering your curls in a pineapple on your head, and headed to your bathroom.

You grabbed all the first aid kit supplies you could find, fresh clothes, a blanket and pillow, before heading back out to the main part of your apartment.

You slipped on some gloves, cut open his shirt, and began working on his wounds, dressing them and putting on bandages.

Thank God for nursing school and clinicals.

It took you two bowls of ramen, a Celsius, and a whole heck of a lot of bandages and gorilla glue, but you got Armando mostly patched up.

You wiped the sweat of your forehead grabbing the pillow and blankets you’d grabbed.

You gently lifted his head placing the pillow underneath and the blanket on top of him.

Next to his body you placed the fresh clothes, Gatorade, protein bars, and a bottle of water.

When you finally stood, you felt woozy and in need of a shower and sleep yourself.

But before you crept off to take your shower, you stood over Armando, taking in his features.

His dark hair, his smooth skin, his nose, and lips. He looked like a Spanish version of your father and it was freaking you the fuck out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You walked away hoping your father’s explanation was coming soon because, you may have just saved his life on the conscious fact that he’d done the same for you, but he was still dangerous…and who knows what would happen to you when he wakes up.

The next morning, when you wake up, you creep out of your bedroom, peaking to see if Armando had moved at all.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

You release a heavy sigh, walking over towards his body.

You watch his chest rise and fall, faster than last night.

Good.

At least your dad couldn’t kill you for letting his son die.

You lean in a big closer to Armando, checking out his wounds from a far.

One wound had opened it seemed like.

You turn and grab the gorilla glue and a bandage of your counter.

Completely removing one bandage, you toss it to the side, pinching the skin of his chest while prepping the glue.

You’re just about to glue his would shut again, when his arm shoots up, gripping your wrist.

You scream, falling back on your ass.

Armando’s eyes shoot open and he sits up quick in a panic.

You crawl backwards, away from him, bumping into the cabinet .

Armando groans, rubbing his sore torso and arms.

His eyes skate across the room before they find yours.

He jumps back a little. “¿Qué diablos me hiciste?”

You swallow, holding your knees. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

Armandos eyes widen then narrow. “Did you do this to me?” He says, accessing his bandages.

You hesitate to tell him the truth…would he be mad and hurt you again?

Armando must sense the hesitation. “I’m not going to hurt you,’ he groans, slowly standing up. “It’s just a question.”

You nod, backing away from him. “Yes…I did.”

Armando swipes up the bottle of water, chugging it, tossing it aside, and then going for the Gatorade. “Gracias.” He grumbles, heading towards your bathroom.

You stand, slowly following after him, still keeping some distance between you two.

Armando peers over his should, eyebrow raised. “Mike sent me, if you’re wondering.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here.”

“I never said that.” You clarify, even though he’s not wrong.

“Don’t need to.”

You frown. “Armand—,”

He slams the door shut.

“Great.” You roll your eyes. “Just fucking great.”

You slam your head against the wall, thinking off all the ways you would tell your dad off when you saw him next. But until then, it seemed you and Armando would be roommates.

So you should try and be cordial, right?

[artbyblastweave]

If I were doing a Marvel timeline reboot thing, I would do the bait-and-switch of introducing Mysterio as a member of the superhero community in good standing- abeit one with a Booster-Gold air of loveable skeeviness to him- and then I would drop a bunch of red-herring hints implying he's a massive traitor in the usual manner, none of which would ever pan out. And then I would do the big finish for the whole continuity, I mean whatever the A-plot is, and it would just never seriously involve Mysterio outside of crowd shots, leaving the audience hanging in perpetuity as to whether the untwist was that he was seriously a hero for real this time around, or whether this is just what it looks like from the outside when he perpetuates a major long-term con of some kind successfully.

[merbear25]

Hellow, Hope you're doing well ^^ <3 May i ask for our dearest Mad scientist for the Halloween event ? The Great and infamous Caesar Clown ; ( 4 ) in an abandonned hospital ; with Truth or dare 💋; with a female x reader ? You can go SFW or NSFW as you want, feel free to write it as you want ~ I love your wittings and works ! i can't wait to see what you'll cook this time ! As usual you're gonna surprise me/us ! Good luck and happy scary Month !!! Art by @NANAYAkokonotsu on twitter

This...this is what happens when you give me full rein with my muse. The terrifically creepy picture helped though. I hope you like it. 🧡💜

The creepy crawlies that scurried past offered more than a panic induced shriek. They also contained fluids that held so much potential for whomever knew what to do with them, and this place was crawling with unrecognized promise. You were plucked from your duties and placed under the watchful eye of the one you took orders from, each request being stranger than the last.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, breast play, tit job, dark themes: fear play, dub con, mentions of insects, experiments, and death

Go on. I dare you. (Caesar)

“Mind your step.” The call trailing over your shoulder was more out of annoyance than concern for your safety.

You looked down to see a long centipede scurrying in front of your feet. Swallowing the urge to yelp, you quickly threw it in a spare jar. You heard a chuckle from behind you, making the dead air go cold.

“And here I thought you’d be able to handle helping me. You haven’t lost your use now, have you?” The question bit into you more than any canines ever could.

“No!” You spat out. “Of course not. Just… caught me off guard is all.” Your eyes glanced to the side to meet his two yellow orbs burning into you with the intensity of the sun.

But then, as if a switch was flipped, his demeanor shifted into one more playful. No matter how friendly the smile he wore was, there was no mistaking the sinister aura exuding from him. “No?” His purple lips stretched into a smile. 

Your eyes darted away from his, not wanting him to see the nerves pinching at your face.

“Hmm, somehow I don’t believe you. How should we fix that?” He drummed his fingers on his chin, feigning to be deep in thought. With the decrepit walls sealing you in, the possibilities flourishing in his dastardly mind were endless. “Oh, I’ve got an idea.” His tone was deep and dragged out of him.

The hair stood up on the back of your neck as the tension hung in the air. “Truth or dare?”

Even with every fiber of your being telling you to choose the safe option, he was obviously testing you. You were being baited to prove yourself to him and rid him of these rising conflictions of why he was keeping you around.

“Dare.” When that single word left your mouth, the soft tapping of the millions of insects within your proximity fled.

“Let out that centipede you caught earlier.” His voice was soft, pulling you into a false sense of security. When your face scrunched from the unnerving rattling within the jar, the final part flowed past his lips. “And let it crawl on you.”

Your hand shook slightly and your breath quickened. You couldn’t refuse, not when you already felt as if you were on thin ice. Hesitantly, you unscrewed the container and held in your scream as the pointy legs scaled up your arm and under the back of your hair. Down your back it went, while you stood paralyzed with fear.

The legs dancing along your skin were too much. Their pinching ends against your sensitive flesh caused you to shake violently in a desperate attempt to get it off. With your heart still racing, you managed to jar it once again. Your huffs and puffs from the adrenaline rush were barely given a chance to soften as he laughed at your misfortune.

“Not too bad, not at all.”

“It’s my turn, right?” Your breaths were still shaky.

“Hmm? Oh, right. Go on then.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” His answer felt insulting after what he’d just made you do.

The frown you had was involuntary, and yet he couldn’t help but chuckle again. He continued down the hall, albeit slowly, you absentmindedly followed him. “What do you have planned for these insects?”

His eyes sparkled with excitement at your curiosity. “Well, only those gifted enough to see their potential can truly understand my plans but to put it simply, I’m going to use their extracts to create a poison with the most horrific side effects.”

Before you had a chance to even want him to elaborate, he shoved the question “truth or dare” at you. His gaze had you in a stranglehold, placing dread that you had an unspoken expectancy to choose the more dangerous option.

He drifted further down the hall to the rusty door at the end. The bitter cold of the basement nipped at your very core. Without realizing it, he’d lured you further into the depths of this hospital that was long since forgotten.

Sighing, he straightened his posture, which gave you a reminder of how feeble you looked in comparison. “You know, there were many hospitals in this area that were forced to build morgues due to the increase of disease. So many perished.” A hint of romanticism laced his words. “And, well, keeping them in the basement just added to the necessary cooling effects.”

His eyes held onto you as he pushed the door open. The black void in front of you could only really be identified by the smell—death. The fluorescent lights flickered as they strained to turn on. One in the far corner cracked from the old wires. Grayish tiles covered the walls and floors—once white but now stained with mildew.

He leaned down by your ear, his breath hot. “That one.” His long arm stretched out from over your shoulder, lazily pointing at the only remaining cooler to be closed. “Get in it.”

You trembled as he placed his other hand on your shoulder. “I-I can’t,” you whispered.

“What’s that? Can’t?” His lips brushed against your ear as he delivered a tinge of threat. “Oh, dear, that won’t do.”

“No, please!” You broke away from his grip. Your legs trembled and your lip quivered as you fought back tears. This brave mask of yours was showing deep cracks. His laugh chased after you as you fumbled with the latch. “I can do it.” Taking a deep breath, you sat yourself down on the metal.

Caesar grinned down at you, partly in pride and partly in amusement. “I won’t leave you in for long, my dear.” With that, he promptly shoved you in the darkness that reeked of decaying flesh.

Each moment felt as if it was being stretched out as some cruel unwarranted punishment. Your breaths were labored as panic tasted your exposed nerves. You couldn’t scream for him to let you out though because that would undoubtedly lead you down the same path as the other unfortunate souls to have disappointed him. So, you closed your eyes, hoping that you could fool your anxious mind into thinking it was someplace else.

Loud thuds rattled the chamber, coaxing a startled shriek from you. “Are you ready?” Your muffled “Yes” was granted with the dull lights of the room. Visibly shaken up, he gave you some ounce of comfort. “Well done! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

“Why… Why did you do that?” You could barely look at him but managed to catch a glimpse of his puzzled expression.

“I can’t give you a straight-forward answer.” His response was genuine—unable to pinpoint the appeal to all of this. At least, not at that very moment.

“Last one, alright?” The promise was wrapped in thorns, but it was all you had to grasp at. Your answer “Truth” brought on some annoyance. “Really. After that you choose ‘truth’?”

“I…Okay, dare.” Not wanting to risk leaving this place in anything other than one piece, you complied. 

“Good,” he purred. “Take these off.” His large hand caressed your shoulder for a moment before plucking at your shirt and bra strap. The threatening presence he had was still shifting to one trying to offer affection and gentleness, both of which you were in desperate need of.

You did as you were told, further earning yourself drops of praise. His fingers traced patterns on your bare back, gently claiming you as his. When you removed your bra, his other hand cupped your soft flesh with unexpected tenderness. A soft gasp escaped you as he massaged your delicate breasts. He hummed with satisfaction. Your sounds only made him yearn for more.

He plucked at your hardened nipples, while watching you closely. Each subtle change in your face put him into a deeper trance. “I doubt this place has ever heard such lovely noises, my dear.” Each word dripped with desire.

A whimper left your soft lips as both of his hands roamed your exposed figure. Each motion they made over you radiated fervor. “Lie back,” his command was tender, so as to not scare away those darling sounds you were making. You could hear him unzipping his pants and fumbling with himself. Your expression changed, leading him to soothe your woes. “Shhh, don’t worry. I won’t be very rough.” He trailed weak kisses along your forehead before straddling you.

With him placing his length between your breasts, you instinctively nuzzled it with your soft body. A deep sigh of pleasure left him as he gripped the sides of the table. At first his thrusts were more to allow himself the enjoyment of taking you for himself: you being pinned under him, panting softly, a look upon your face that read you were eager to please him. But then that look and those sounds tore away his restraints. His eyes rolled back and fluttered shut as he picked up his pace.

The squeaking of the metal mixed with his grunts and your shortened breaths. A room riddled with the scent of death and visited by those who feasted on it was given new life as the two of you satisfied your lust. It may have been buried deep below the surface, but the unearthing brought you to a fever pitch. Cries of release echoed throughout the premises, daring to wake the dead. Such a high carried both of you through the rest of your exploration, giving whispers of your sinful passion that had recently struck you.

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you @thewholelemon @moodandmist @run-for-chamo-miles and @youarenevertooold for the tags! I'm in love with everything y'all posted, what the hell.

In other news, it seems like my recipe for success is to have a Bad Saturday, unexpectedly write an unprecedented amount on Sunday, manage nothing throughout the week, then rinse and repeat. However, yesterday was a kind of okay Saturday, and I've still written a lot today, so maybe the point is really just Sunday.

In any case, what I've written today is from the same unexpected fic I mentioned in my last WIP post. But also like that post, that's not what I'm going to share, because it's not on my hit list for this year. Instead, I'm joining in with the CORB cheer by posting about, y'know, the one I started last year, good old Bait and Switch, because that's what I was getting all my words out for last weekend. Like, the next chapter is about 2 scenes away from done, when there had only been about 3 scenes in it when I started. So that's good?

Under the cut because this is already getting kinda long and I'm not stopping at six sentences.

I don’t know the answer to that. “Because I’m better than you. Now c’mon, get your head in the game. We have a plan.” “Do we?” “Here’s the plan. You give me a good zinger to make Simon go off—” “No.” “What?” “You think I can set him off with a zinger?” he audibly sneers. “This isn’t a one-liner trick. We build up to it.” “Fine,” I roll my eyes. “You long-con him, he goes off, I get my energy back. Easy-peasy.”  Baz is silent. Maybe being a dick and maybe asleep. I can never tell. Finally, he says, “And then you’ll let me out.” “Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”

The slightly difficult thing is that there's also rather a bit of angst being threaded through a fic that is at its core quite lighthearted, but I've received some comments in my time that suggest I may be good at writing things that make you laugh and then also hurt you in rapid succession, so hopefully I can pull it off without it feeling like we're switching genres.

Here's another that's a very little bit of both.

“I would not fucking say that!” Baz yelps. “Calm down,” I swat at him, but the tips of my fingers just slide through the edge of the coffin. I scowl at them. “I saw it in a film. It’s fine. It’s a totally normal thing to say.” “It’s not! It’s really, really not!” By the time he’s run out of steam screeching at me about it, I’m thinking there’s no way this ends up worth it. I don’t feel bad for doing it, but seriously, no one has ever yelled at me for this long. His voice is wearing down. Getting scratchier, which just makes him sound more violent, but then quieter. He ends by mumbling, “I hate you.” It hits weird. I mean, I don’t know. It just sounded sad. And it’s not true.  He doesn’t hate me. We’re helping each other.

Now, tags!

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @whogaveyoupermission

@mooncello @monbons @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

@alexalexinii @rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife

@confused-bi-queer @iamamythologicalcreature @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @emeryhall

@hushed-chorus @onepintobean @raenestee

[qbdatabase]

I’m not sure if im allowed to ask for book rec so please ignore this if im not! But either way I was wondering if you could recommend a book with maybe two gay characters? It doesn’t have to be the main plot point or specifically romance (think; The lives of puppets) but I’d love to see it I don’t mind really any genre or if there any spicy stuff

Thanks!

I'm just going to give you my personal favorites bc the number of books in the database with gay (male) characters is 1368

Devil's Dance by Leigh Garrett: duology, MMM triad between an assassin, a biker gang leader, and his right-hand man / pining best friend, very hot / dark / angsty but with a happy ending!

The Last Sun by K. D. Edwards: trilogy, tarot cards are real mythological figures (like royalty), MC is the embodiment of the Sun court but he's broke af and a major underdog, romances a Russian bisexual man from a rival court

Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco: FMM bi4bi polycule with a nonbinary MC who presents as male, he's also a vampire hunter and the other two are vampire royalty, he's big mad about being so horny for them

Notorious Sorcerer by Davinia Evans: MM, another underdog gay MC who's an illegal alchemist / fencing scoundrel, enemies-to-lovers romance with a spoiled princeling, super fun magical system and worldbuilding with the feel of magical Venice

Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender: MM(FM) (that means bigender female/male), another underdog illegal alchemist alkjdsk but he's trans this time! and it's enemies-to-lovers all around for this idiot polycule

All of Us Villains by Amanda Foody: magic is real but it's a scarce resource controlled by a handful of families who make their children kill each other in a generational tournament to determine the magic-controlling hierarchy; everyone is queer and mean and hot

A Taste of Iron and Gold by Alexandra Rowland: anxious prince x stoic long-suffering bodyguard who falls in love against his better judgement and then simps so so hard

Sword Dance by A. J. Demas: retired disabled soldier x "retired" courtesan, cozy murder mystery, set in fantasy-greece/rome; soft tender romance that makes me seethe with jealousy

White Trash Warlock by David Slayton: LOVED the concept of a gay white trash warlock, decent book in the end, mad it was essentially a bait-and-switch that immediately left the trailer park for Colorado :/ must recc it regardless for being set in Oklahoma

The Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons: epic high fantasy, 5 books of 500+ pages each, but incredibly good! if you think you'd like Wheel of Time but don't want to commit to a twenty billion page count, read this instead. MM-genderqueer polycule

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by K. J. Charles: gay con artist wants to scam a young widow out of her fortune, but he gets scruffed like a naughty kitten by her hot older brother. talks his way out of trouble by offering to be his personal boy toy, but then they both fall in love for real!

OK I should stop there, but if you want to scroll through over a thousand other gay books, check out qbdatabase.com!

[lol-jackles]

RE: https://www.tumblr.com/teamfreewill2pointo/756271964740599808/tv-shows-take-a-long-time-to-develop-how-long-do

Will likes to talk a lot about “privileged” information, but how much of what they say is actually true? Why would ANYONE work with CMP after what happened on The Winchesters? We know Danneel lacks any business sense. Jensen’s not great either.

What do you think?

Link. Privileged information that he can't reveal until after it is conveniently reported in trade papers or at cons. Anybody watched the congressional hearing interrogating the Secret Service director Kimberly Cheatle? She gave so many non-answers that she pissed off both Democrats and Republicans and they called for her immediate resignation (instead of waiting for Biden to fire her because nobody has seen him for days. Days!) Yeah, Will is about her level of hoarding information, if he ever had them in the first place.

With that said, Will is mostly correctly about The Countdown likely being developed and then they looked for actors to slot into roles. TV shows that are developed around an actor's persona are rare unless you're Rosanne or Ellen DeGeneres or Tim Allen. This is just general knowledge in the industry

"Ackles and CMP have a bunch of irons in the fire." So far Jensen mentioned one show they sold for development. As for "a bunch", I hope it's these:

Not Another SPN Spinoff!

SuperBad

The Hungover Games

How to Lose a Show in 10 Days

Shark Bait and Switch

A Series of Unfortunate Events

[illarian-rambling]

🐹 for the OC ask game?

Confession: I've never played a Pokémon game in my life. I just had the cards as a kid cause I thought the art looked pretty, so I'm not really sure how to answer this one.

In lieu of that, I'm gonna answer about a game I know way too much about: dnd!

🎲 If your OC played a pen and paper RPG, what class would they pick? Warrior, mage, thief, ranger, cleric, paladin, druid, necromancer, bard (or other, if that’s not enough).

Izjik would be a gloomstalker ranger with a 3 level dip into battlemaster fighter to help facilitate that melee build. She'd have good strength, dex, and con, but abysmal everything else. Her maneuvers would be tripping attack, goading attack, and ambush.

Sepo would be a swashbuckler rogue with expertise in stealth and intimidation. His charisma would be high just for that intimidation, and his panache ability would just be him giving people a death glare. He'd duel wield daggers.

Twenari - despite being in Illari terms, a sorcerer who gets magic from her blood - acts much more like a wizard in the practical sense. She'd be an evocation wizard with the warcaster feat. Later on, she'd probably take a dip into artificer.

Djek would be a thief rogue/shadow sorcerer multiclass with high dex and charisma, but low strength and con. I thought about making him an arcane trickster, but he does damage with his magic that would fit closer to a sorcerer. He'd definitely be higher into rogue than sorcerer.

Astra would be an artillerist artificer, despite fighting like a full caster, rather than a hald caster. The arcane cannon ability could be reflavored as her ribbon coat, while her infusions are all the gadgets she makes. She'd probably take the skilled feat.

Mashal is pure battlemaster fighter. He has high strength and con, but utterly terrible wisdom. His maneuvers would be bait and switch, disarming attack, and riposte. He'd also have the mage slayer feat.

Ivander would have one level of celestial warlock for flavor, then the rest would be in inquisitive rogue, as he doesn't really use magic all that much, but he is one hell of a detective. He'd abuse tf out of steady aim and probably take the gunner feat.

Elsind's main battle strength is being slippery and they fight without weapons, so I guess that makes them a monk? I'd say way of long death monk because they're pretty tanky, but he's too nervous to do much fighting.

Avymere, as much as I love making fighters, fits way too well to be anything but an oath of devotion paladin, even if they have no divine magic in the actual story. I feel like they'd have the sentinel feat as well.

Thanks for the question, and forgive me for derailing it, I just love talking about dnd :)

[strqyr]

I also can’t help notice in the opening that when Team RWBY is walking in the little montage, Blake seems to switch places so that she ends up being the front of the team

A possible foreshadow to her truly being the one to lead the team out of Ever After or at least have a REALLY big role somehow… if this doesn’t lead to the tree/Sun clone theory I’ll feel baited lol

yeah, they first start in the correct team rwby order bc that's how they appear on the beach, but when the scene changes blake takes the leading spot from yang. in general blake was ON POINT this episodes, keeping her focus and not really getting distracted by any weird stuff happening around her and i'm so ready for her to take that leading role bc like. in v7 she was the one who said they'd follow ruby's lead and now that ruby is doing not-so-great, blake taking that burden from her (for now, the ever after seems adamant to put ruby back in that position if the "chess" game is anything to go by) is just. really really nice.

(also like. she's likely going to lead the white fang one day, she's going to have to get some practice in.)

and i can't lie: the moment the golden glow happened my mind went to the tree sun saw that's "leaves had a golden glow in the evening sun" and "the sight had filled him with a strange peace, and a sense of purpose, that he hadn't felt in a long time." like. blake sees the golden glow and immediately follows it (sorta like a sense of purpose) and finally comes to the conclusion (a guess, a thought, that had already crossed her mind before) that they're in a fairy tale because of it.

we also know (thanks to the tiny con panel spoiler) that sun is going to have at least a short appearance this volume, so... even if it's just his voice... clones that are extensions of his consciousness, pretty please?

[mysterymanjoseph]

Not the Best Vacation Spot:  mysterymanjoseph and lovelygraph

Joseph’s overseas branch offices had become a bit ‘problematic’.  All sorts of unrest with both populations and governments, are causing him to consider closing down more and more of them, for safety’s sake.  He offers to move the employees to the new locations, saving time and money to get the new offices up and running, rather than having to hire and train people from scratch.  This was going fairly smoothly, then, some upstart group took a number of one of his mining crews hostage, wanting both ransom, and for his corporation to pressure some terms from the nation’s government.  Joseph is more concerned with his people’s safety, if it were just money, and it could be guaranteed his people would be unharmed, that would be fine.  But, that usually is not the case any more.  Decades ago, his grandfather had formed a mercenary force to effect rescue missions when the need arose.  One group to act in the Atlantic region, with their own aircraft carrier, USS Hornet, saved in secret from being scrapped in the nineties by Joseph’s grandfather in the greatest bait and switch con game the world will never know about.  Still, the Pacific region is vulnerable, so, Joseph decided to try the con game again, saving USS Kittyhawk from the scrap yard, having the carrier towed to a fully enclosed dry dock in South Korea to undego refit and upgrades.  She serves with the Pacific force.  Now, Kittyhawk is off the coast of the South East Asian nation, launching upgraded Vietnam era F8 Crusader fighters, lovingly called ‘The Last Gunfighter’ by their pilots, and F7 Corsair 2 attack jets.  Helicopters from the converted cargo ship Edson’s Ridge, lifted off earlier and headed inland, carrying the ground forces.  Joseph rides seated in the doorway of the upgraded Bell UH-1.  When his forces are deployed, he will go so long as he is physically able to fight along side him.  Six years in combat in Afghanistan with the Marines earned him the respect of the members of his force the moment he set foot at both secret bases.  One of the helicopter’s crew man give him status updates on mission progress.  Soon enough, the clearing that will be their landing zone comes into view.  Joseph holds up one hand to get his men’s attention, then circles his index finger in the air, telling them it ‘go time’.  With that, there is a fast final check of weapon and gear, then the helicopter sets down, Joseph jumping out before the landing skids touch the ground, sprinting away from the chopper, lying prone, aiming his M1A rifle towards the surrounding tree line to provide cover for his men, and the other choppers coming in to unload their troops.  

@lovelygraph

[tumblezwei]

mind giving some more detailed thoughts about "velma"? i saw a pretty unflattering review and some people said it was by a hater so it was biased, but i don't wanna sit through something genuinely terrible. fwiw, i liked "mystery incorporated" for a darker iteration of scooby

Oh definitely. I wanna make it clear first off that literally nothing is wrong with making the cast more diverse. It's a complete nonissue that unfortunately needs to be mentioned to make sure everyone knows I'm not a fucking asshole.

And uh, putting this under a cut because wow I had more words than I thought I would.

Pretty much everything outside of absolutely superficial nonsense is just bad. The writing is the most obvious and most damning for me. The first episode opens with Daphne and her friends in the school locker rooms showering and the literal first conversation is them lampshading how pilot episodes always have more gratuitous nudity and sex than the rest of the show. And it's not a one off joke, it's a whole several minutes long bit where they argue about the pros and cons of it. And after Daphne gets stopped by Velma from drowning her friend in a puddle for disagreeing with her, Velma asks "what about race-blind casting? What do you think about that?" We get an answer from Daphne and then the dead body is found.

And that's about what you'll get from the humor. For some reason I expected better than constant sex jokes, nudity, and bit-sized versions of arguments the creators see on Twitter, but you won't get much else. In the same episode is a pregnant woman being photographed naked with her baby pressing against her stomach enough to see the outline because. Funny. And the rare time a joke ever lands it's followed up by another joke lampshading teen mystery show tropes. It's just not funny.

And aside from that is the atrocious pacing. Absolutely nothing is given any room to breathe, and it always feels like you're being flung wildly from plot point to plot point with no emotional attachment to anything going on. Fred gets introduced, he's racist and misogynistic btw, and literally two scenes later he's telling us his character motivations. Just, states point blank that his deal is trying to be Masculine enough for his dad. And then he leaves. And then we get Velma's backstory with her missing mom. And before we have even the rest of the episode to get invested in her search, it's revealed that her mom just left and there was no mystery.

Like, yeah, maybe it's a bait and switch, but the way information is conveyed in this show is so blunt and without a single hint of artistry or care that it felt like a slap in the face.

None of these characters feel like themselves and none of them are fun to watch. Velma is just kind of mean to everyone all the time, Fred has become White Privilege personified, Daphne is Popular Mean Girl, and Sha-sorry Norville is the sad sack friend that has an unrequited crush played for laughs. Also he hates drugs. Haha.

And I'm not saying you can't do fresh takes on these characters, but imo the things that make them feel like themselves just aren't there. Shaggy isn't a desperate nerd afraid that he's a beta male, he's a chill dude that's loved by his friends and loves to have a good time. And oh god I just realized that we didn't even see Norville eat anything. but anyways, Daphne's character is always at it's best when she's a ditzy rich girl who's surprisingly competent. Like the best humor from her comes from how she's basically Barbie in every sense of the definition. Fred is an ally, fuck you. Like I get you went with the White Privilege stereotype because he's the only blue-eyed blind-haired character, but Fred Jones is a fucking himbo and always will be.

The secondary characters are nothing. Just black holes for bad jokes. The plot is stupid point blank.

And there's Velma's hallucinations that are thought to be conjured from her guilt at her mother's disappearance. But never once are they treated seriously. We get one scene where the horror of it gets built up only to be immediately made into a joke. The scary stuff in this show has no tension. Nothing is ever given proper tension, nothing ever gets lingered on. We see a horrifying image of a viney arm wriggling it's way into Velma's heart and then they make a joke. Velma runs through a horror house made from her own mind only a joke to be made about Norville's feelings for her. Which he has. Velma also has a crush on Fred btw. And despite the obvious end goal of Velma/Daphne, the two have no chemistry between them.

And there's no Scooby Doo. Because apparently that's what makes the franchise a kids show. Sure. Why not?

Just. Don't watch this. If you're a Scooby Doo fan you're not gonna get anything out of it. Go rewatch Mystery Incorporated instead if you want to see these characters treated with respect.

[ali-annals]

nothing lasts forever (say you'll remember me) (forever is the sweetest con, pt 1)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng PART TWO Moodboard

Rating: T | Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ao3 | WC: 1.0k | TW: -

A/N: This is part of a series called The Eras Tour (Jasonette’s Version), a collection of Jasonette-centric fics I wrote for the Maribat discord server Maribat? Get In!’s 2024 Civil War event. Not beta’d.

Years after retiring from Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes by many other names, switching identities as easily as she breathes…until she tries to swindle the wrong guy.

“Jump in!”

The red Mercedes screeched to a stop at Marinette’s feet, and she yanked the door open, hopping inside. The car took off before she’d even finished closing it. 

She looked up from buckling her seatbelt. “Your timing is impeccable.”

Her chauffeur smirked at her, already passing the ‘goodbye’ billboard at the city limits. “Tell that to my exes.”

“Ooh, self-burn, those are rare. Where are we going now?”

“Anywhere away from the crowds,” he shrugged. “Where do ya wanna go?”

“I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”

He leaned over, bringing her knuckles to his mouth to press a soft kiss there. “‘With me’ it is!”

Jason pulled over at a roadside motel for the night, the gorgeous view from their window making up for the dubious service offered. 

The sunset drew Marinette to it like a moth to a flame, her fingers itching for the familiar colours and rough surface of the heavy-pressed paper she drew on. She could imagine the designs already, showcasing the rugged beauty of night rising.

People usually said night fell, but in her opinion, it rose, creeping up on you gently until suddenly all you could see was the smooth darkness. 

She turned to face the wind, letting it blow her hair out of her face, enjoying the last rays of light warming her skin. 

“Pixie!” called Jason, climbing up the slight knoll until he didn’t have to shout for her attention anymore. 

She tossed him a smile. “Hey, Jay.”

His larger form behind her gave her a strange sense of security, stability. She didn’t know why; they’d agreed when they met that they would leave sooner rather than later.

Ten months ago

“Jason Head.”

“Marie Cheng. Enchante.”

“What’s a pretty woman like you doing here?”

She glanced around at the bar, filled with rougher-looking people than her in her polished pink dress and grey boots and coat. “Hiding,” she said simply, her body language inviting him to join her.

He accepted her invite, perching on the stool beside her and ordering a ginger beer.

Her eyebrow raised, unbidden. He tossed her a half-grin, silently baiting her.

She bit. “I can’t say I expected you to order a ginger beer.”

“And what did you expect me to order?”

“Scotch or whisky on the rocks, most likely. Maybe a lager.”

“I don’t mind one now and again but I prefer to stay away from alcohol when I can. Family issues.”

She nodded understandingly. “Why are you here then, if you don’t drink your problems away for the night?”

“Maybe I have other ways of dealing with my problems,” he looked her up and down slowly, subtext not lost on her. She was well-versed in masculine wiles and countering with her own feminine ones. 

She bit her lip, swirling her mocktail around slowly. “Do you deal with your problems in another place, as well as manner, then?”

“I might. Would you care to see?”

“I think I’d like that very much.” She polished off her drink, preparing to close her tab. Jason beat her to it, waving away her protests. 

Marinette silently pulled her dress over her head, glancing surreptitiously at the bed to make sure Jason was still sleeping. He didn’t move, like he hadn’t for the past several minutes.

She tiptoed to his discarded pants pockets, fishing through his wallet for loose cash. It was a hard business, being a bandit these days. Everyone paid through credit cards or apps, making one-and-done deals like this much harder to pull off and less financially feasible to make up for the trouble it was worth. Long cons were easier, simply requiring her to make up a new personality for a month or two while she stored away jewels and leftover cash from shopping sprees financed by her target du jour . 

A paper in Jason’s wallet caught her eye and she tugged it out from its sticky hiding place after another glance at the bed. Jason Todd was the name, not Jason Head. 

So she wasn’t the only one out there still doing good ol’ fashioned swindling, huh. Inwardly, she chuckled at the irony of them ending up together. Well, it had been fun. Adieu, Jason Whatever-your-real surname-is.

She curled her fingers around the doorknob cautiously, twisting slowly so the click wouldn’t wake Jason up. 

She’d made it to the parking lot when her arm was seized and she turned to see Jason holding her.

“I think you mixed up some of our belongings in your haste to escape, Marie.”

A couple was much less suspicious than a single person, making their cons much easier. A partner for lookout, for companionship, for intelligent conversation, especially about their line of work, was a welcome find. They agreed to travel together for no longer than a year, as they’d eventually become too noticeable as a couple. Still, while they had each other, they made the most of it.

Now

He wrapped his arms around her waist, speaking softly into her ear. They’d done this plenty of times, but it felt different this time, and what he said confirmed Marinette’s thoughts.

“They know we have a partner now; it would be smarter to split up.”

She nodded, turning in his arms to face him. “You’re right. Promise me one more night before we separate?”

“One more night,” he agreed, kissing her. 

She silently pulled her clothes over her head, glancing back at the bed. She knew this time he was sleeping, having become accustomed to his breathing patterns, even his resting heart rate over the past several months. She opened his wallet, sliding several bills in between the soft leather folds. 

With a final glance at his sleeping form, she quietly opened the door and slipped out into the sunrise.

She opened her wallet at the bus station to pay for her ticket. Several more bills than she’d had last night peeked up at her. She scoffed a smile, wiping her tears away. He’s already remembering me. Adieu, Jason Todd.

[aeide-thea]

[consent in fiction, content warnings]

i started to make a post abt this earlier and then scrapped it, but like, long and boring details aside, i guess really what i'm still thinking about is the way in which content warnings are, probably inevitably, sometimes so insufficient as to be actively worse than nothing—

like, okay, the specific thing i encountered this morning was a fuck-or-die sex pollen fic tagged as 'no archive warnings apply,' which is obviously, uh, debatable, given that the trope is kind of inherently dub-con at best, but the author had tagged for 'sex pollen' and 'fuck or die,' so i guess those individual tags do give readers a sufficient-if-not-generous heads-up that, like, here be dragons or whatever… but then i actually read the fic in question, bc while i feel neutral abt the trope i've often liked this author's work in the past, and like, the actual consent issue that fucked me up a little was that the sex pollen wasn't just an organic phenomenon or lab accident or whatever, as often, but rather deliberately inflicted on the leads, and not by yr run-of-the-mill Evil Experimenters/Torturers/what-have-you, but rather by… the narrator's ex's sisters, as payback for… his ex's having broken up with him???

which, fine, whatever, people sometimes do fucked up shit and you can certainly include that in a story; but the love interest's reaction to discovering this is just to be 'amused,' while the narrator is like, i'm just relieved my ex is still willing to talk to me! which again, fine, whatever, people do shrug off serious violations of their autonomy out of a desire to maintain social bonds, that also isn't unrealistic or unreasonable to portray in a fic; but that entire aspect of the situation got literally less than 2% of the fic's whole word count devoted to it, i guess because we're in Romance Land where the only thing allowed to have actual emotional weight is intra-relationship developments, and anything outside that context is just meaningless scaffolding, even if in real life it would be a pretty fucking big deal, and probably pretty traumatizing, to find out your ex's family had literally poisoned you???

anyway, sorry, i guess i couldn't restrain myself from going into excruciating detail after all, but tl;dr it's just like. it frankly made me feel much weirder to encounter that plot point in a context where other, more familiar dubcon tropes had been warned for, because it made me feel much more uncertain that the author actually recognized it was an issue! i'd have preferred it if they'd just slapped an 'author chose not to use archive warnings' on the whole thing!

[cw for discussion of a fictional depiction of deliberately painful sex]

reminds me of a fic that fucked me up much more a while back, where a character had consented to sex and consented, too, to poorly-defined punishment, but the form the punishment ended up taking was deliberately-careless penetration that caused the character pain on purpose, and neither the character nor i were braced for that, and while i guess you maybe couldn't say it needed a noncon label, because technically both sex and punishment had been agreed to, it definitely was like. while you-the-author may technically have your bases covered here in a legalistic way, this was definitely a pretty deliberate bait-and-switch that was triggering both for the character it happened to and for me! and like. was it effective as a reading experience? honestly, yeah! i got an emotional journey out of it that really mirrored the character's—method reading, if you will. but do i still resent that author for it, literal years later? also yeah.

anyway i guess basically the thing is like. i'd much rather know i'm venturing into unknown territory and be on my metaphorical toes, than have situations like the above where like, everything is supposedly safely tagged, but the author's standards for that aren't the same as yours, and then something slides between the cracks to sting you?? like, i'm (hopefully obviously) not opposed to content warnings, and do typically provide them on this blog, but there's an extent to which it's like. a guardrail that gets dislodged when you put any actual weight on it is more dangerous, actually, than a wholly unfenced drop…

[optimizedcuriosity]

Workforce Paradox : Corporate "Loyalty" and Employee Disillusionment.

- When "We're Like Family" Means Unpaid Overtime -

Hey there, fellow corporate survivors! 👋 Let's dive into the wild world of workplace loyalty, where companies expect us to bleed their brand colors while we're just trying to make ends meet. Buckle up, because this rollercoaster of corporate expectations vs. reality is bumpier than your manager's attempt at "casual Friday." The Loyalty Demand: A One-Way Street?

Picture this: companies are out here acting like they want a long-term commitment, but we're not feeling the love. A 2023 PwC survey found that 61% of executives believe customers (employees?) are more loyal now than before the pandemic, and 70% of employers are budgeting for pay to remain the same or higher in 2024. Spoiler alert: this is not the way...and we definitely aren't here for it.

The Employee Reality Check

While the higher-ups are feeling optimistic, here's what's really going down:

Only 20% of consumers agree that loyalty has increased since the pandemic (Shocking, right? Who really wants to buy from people that don't support...well...people.)

A whopping 92% of employers are preparing for layoffs in 2024. (Nothing says "we value you" like job insecurity.) (Also a life update and congratulations to me for being a part of a round of layoffs. I was thinking I was underpaid already, but boy does the reality get worse without the job...)

The average salary increase for 2024 is a modest 4%, down from 4.4% in 2023. (Inflation who? Also, that more than what they gave me last year. I got 3% lmfao)

Why We're All Feeling a Bit... Meh

1. Stagnant Wages: The Never-Ending Budget Dance

Remember when we thought we'd be living large by now? The wage gap between actual earnings and what we should be making (based on a 3.5% growth since 2007) is $2.38 per hour as of July 2024. That's not exactly living the dream, is it? Don't even get me started on being sold an education path to getting to this point.

2. Mass Layoffs: The Corporate Shuffle

2022 was the year of "restructuring" – right out the door. Major players like Meta, Amazon, and Twitter showed us the true meaning of "it's not you, it's me" with significant layoffs. And 45% of employers are blaming "economic uncertainty" for tightening those purse strings.

3. Corporate Greed: The Ultimate Glow-Up

While we're watching our pennies, CEO pay has grown a casual 940% since 1978. Worker compensation? A modest 12% increase. Talk about a growth disparity.

The Culture Con: Promises vs. Reality

Companies love to dangle the "amazing culture" carrot. They promise:

Work-life balance (but expect you to answer emails at all hours and unlimited PTO that isn't actually unlimited or PTO.)

Diversity and inclusion (look, we have a ping pong table!)

Employee recognition (here's a gift card for your 5-year anniversary)

Open communication (please fill out this anonymous survey but somehow your manager knows you're the only one to not answer.)

Corporate social responsibility (we tweeted about Earth Day!)

But let's be real, 74% of employees see the link between culture and customer service, yet only 19% strongly agree their manager explains how company values affect their work. It's like they're speaking corporate, but we only understand human.

The Benefits Bait-and-Switch

Companies are trying to win us over with benefits, but they're not quite hitting the mark. The OneDigital Employee Value Perception Study spilled the tea:

56% of us are one surprise bill away from financial panic ( I have a month at best)

25% are eyeing their 401k like it's an emergency fund (that give me 2 months)

35% are practically begging for financial guidance (or just better pay?)

Yet here we are, getting "free" coffee instead of financial planning. Thanks, I guess?

The Loyalty Lowdown

All this corporate disconnect is taking its toll:

Only 20% of us are passionate about our jobs. (The other 80% are passionate about... well, not work.)

57% of Gen Z Americans are less loyal to brands now than pre-pandemic. (Can you blame them?)

Only 53% of consumers even bother with loyalty programs. (Points for what, exactly?)

Bridging the Gap: A Novel Concept

So, how do we fix this mess? Here's a wild idea: companies could try... actually caring?

Fair Pay: Because exposure doesn't pay the bills and your executives are too busy chasing corporate clout.

Transparency: Less corporate speak, more honesty.

Real Development: Not just another online certificate.

Authentic Culture: If I hear "we're like family" one more time...

Financial Support: Because adulting is hard and expensive.

Wrapping It Up

Look, the corporate loyalty paradox is real, and it's messier than we'd like to admit. Companies need to wake up and smell the coffee: loyalty is a two-way street. It's time to put their money where their mouth is and create workplaces that don't make us want to update our resumes every other week. We only remember those that actually walk the talk, not just run their mouths. Remember, we're not asking for the moon here – just a fair shake, some genuine appreciation, and maybe a salary that keeps up with inflation. Is that too much to ask? (Spoiler: it's not.) Stay strong out there, corporate warriors. May your coffee be strong and your meetings be short. Sources:

[1] https://insightssuccess.com/measuring-the-success-of-your-company-culture-metrics-and-tools/

[2] https://inmoment.com/blog/the-importance-of-employee-loyalty/

[3] https://www.davron.net/how-benefits-and-company-culture-can-attract-and-retain-top-talent/

[4] https://ftexecutive.com.au/creating-a-workplace-culture-that-fosters-employee-loyalty/

[5] https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/psychology/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2022.971569/full

[6] https://teamstage.io/employee-loyalty-statistics/

[7] https://www.gallup.com/workplace/327371/how-to-build-better-company-culture.aspx

[8] https://www.onedigital.com/blog/employee-value-perception-study-underlines-benefits-satisfaction-gap-at-various-life-stages/

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: Cause Rump is always good for a laugh...

1. Highly misleading!

tRump is rewriting history again - even though the he actually knows nothing about it.

What is true are the collected Hitler speeches which he steals from...

2. Not totally true!

What's missing is that these folk have to be very rich - so they can afford to buy Rump's allegiance...

Though, later on, he always talks badly about them.

He only idolizes the kind of 'strong' men that he wishes to be.

3 & 4. The Democratic "bait & switch" was not only a surprise - it's left the Rapist Con Man still reeling...

Now, he's wasting time (not even campaigning!!) trying to come up with a nickname for VP Harris.

Nothing has stuck so far & he fears this - his family's mental 'curse' might just be striking now!

(See earlier postings.)

5. Suddenly, the crowd sizes that VP Harris is enjoying, have become a sudden mania with the Orange Clown.

As if he measures his popularity with the amount of people that he can put to sleep!

Yes, he's now regularly found waving to empty lots & backyards...

6. "Dumb-Old" is so desperate to get back into the White House, that he's allowed himself to be infected by RFK Junior's earworm!

Buyer beware!!

RFK isn't the most stable of influences out there...

But, maybe, he can teach Don the Grifter a thing or 2 about how to go absolutely bat-shit crazy!

7. And RFK seems to have taken effect much more quickly than estimated!

tRump now finds himself unable to speak coherently - slurring his butt off & being unable to stick to the subject at hand...

Whatever he's on - I don't want any of it!!

8 & 9. Now that the Felon Rapist is facing a real challenge to his ungodly false 'reign', he's suddenly afraid!

And, he's right to be scared - of a powerful prosecutor - who's also a woman...

You're right to fear someone who can easily outsmart you in the 3D chess game of Washington, DC politics!

You're going to be pulled away from your golf course & back to the reality that you've created for yourself.

A place where you'll be found guilty of raping & cheating so many others.

10. But, who really knows?

Political reality is a harsh mistress!

You might end up in a mental facility.

I could see that.

You like the mentally ill, don't you?

Or, you could be publicly executed as a warning to America's enemies - that you don't fool around with True Blue patriots...

Whatever, dude.

Just so long as you're finally gone.

End?

Probably not.

There's still the Rump's enablers to get rid of...

We can vote a enough of them out during the November 5th election.

At least, think about it - then do it any way!!

Vote Blue & get rid of these would-be evil 'kings.'

Who actually needs them?

Not the citizens of a constitutional Republic with Democratic leanings...

(Say that 3 times fast!)

End!

[queenofthursday6599-blog]

The frustration of thinking you've picked up a found family story only for it to be revealed half way through to be a wife husbandry story

You know what I'm really starting to get frustrated with about being an anime/manga fan.

Specifically with the series that aren't immediately clear on what genre they are, be it a found family situation between parent and child, or if it's going to turn into a grooming Wife Husbandry* kind of story.

*[Wife Husbandry is the trope in which an adult man adopts/takes in a young girl who is often literally a prepubescent child, and then raises her to be his ideal wife.

A lot of the time it's presented as the man not at all being interested in the girl romantically/sexually when she's a child. But the little girl instead falling in love with him, and then just refusing to be with anyone else or move on her entire life.

With the man eventually giving in to her advances once she reaches adulthood, because if he doesn't the little girl will instead just be alone forever and just pine for him.

Which is entirely groomer cope logic if I've ever heard it.]

I'm not interested in stories about literal 30/40 year old guys becoming the guardians of 12 year old (or god forbid younger) girls, and then those two ending up in a romantic relationship later down the road.

Okay?

I don't want to be on like chapter 50 of a manga, only for the mc who'd never before expressed romantic interest in his pseudo/adoptive daughter, to suddenly have a romance scene where the child confesses their feelings to this grown man, and the mc to immediately get defensive about not being a loli-con.

Which immediately tells me that the mc is in fact a loli-con.

Because a normal non-creepy adult guardian hearing a child tell them that they love them, wouldn't ever assume the child meant it in a romantic way.

Or if they did think the kid meant it romantically. They'd laugh it off as the kid being too young to understand that romantic love is different from familial love. And not take it seriously at all. Maybe gently explain to the kid that the love between spouses is different between that of a parent and child, and someday they'll find someone who isn't them to love in that way.

Don't care if they don't actually get together or do anything until the kid is fully grown.

I'm not interested in those kinds of stories, and I don't like it when a story that presents itself as a wholesome found family kind of story for the entire first half of said story, suddenly bait and switches to an age-gape wife husbandry romance in the second half.

Especially not when the adult mc has at least one adult love interest introduced (but often more than one, because anime/manga's intense desire to form harems/love triangles for drama) also early on in the story.

With the story making it seem like he's going to get together with this grown woman, and not the literal child he adopted for like 30-ish chapters, up until the sudden love confession from the 12 year old.

Like if the story had presented itself as the age gap wife husbandry story it apparently is within the first two or three chapters, I wouldn't be this pissed.

Sure the wife-husbandry trope is personally squick to me, and every time I'm conned into reading it under the guise of the story being a found family story pisses me off if I'm made to sink too much time into it before said reveal of the actual trope.

But I know it's liked by a lot of people, genuine creeps who should probably be on a watch list, and those with daddy issues (or trauma) alike.

So like I don't begrudge the story's existence, I begrudge the author for lying to me about what kind of story this actually was for so long.

Write your age gap romance if you want to, but don't try to like cat-fish people who are fans of the found family trope into your audience.

People into the found family trope, are not looking for stories about 30/40 year old men adopting children to groom into being their ideal wives, with the angle that it's totally not creepy because they don't actually do anything before the kid is 18.

We are not your target audience. Please stop trying to sell your wife husbandry stories to us, because we're not into that kind of thing.