#vital training systems

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Sleep Regulation Insights

I summarize the key points of an exceptional article about sleep regulation written by Dr Mehmet Yildiz on Medium.com.

Neurobiology of the Suprachiasmatic Nucleus A remarkable article by Dr Yildiz titled Sleep Regulation: Neurobiology of the Suprachiasmatic Nucleus explains how the brain regulates circadian rhythms and whether a literal “clock” exists within it in simple terms based on experience and research. Sleep is the cornerstone of human and organismal well-being, highlighted in my previous health and…

[astrocafecoffee]

Destiny Matrix

(predicting some events of your life and characteristics of your fs)

• For entertainment purposes only, enjoy •

•☞ Masterlist

Guys, destiny matrix chart is So gorgeous 😭 , I fell in love. I am new to this, but it's so fascinating, so I am sharing with you guys. Obviously I learnt a lot from ann_matrix_destiny insta page. I explained some of her work here, rest is mine.

✨What is Destiny matrix chart?

-A spiritual and metaphysical chart that reveals a person's life path, soul purpose, and potential.

✨How is it calculated?

-Based on a person's birth date, using a complex system of numerology and astrological correspondences.

💫 How to see some important events of your life?

see this area(perimeter line)of your chart , this will explain many important events of your life.

💚Age of getting married/ meeting with your significant other/ spouse:

- look at your age in your chart, if you see 3,5,6,19,20 at the top of your age then at that age you will get married/ meet your significant other/ start a family. Like in this chart I have shown above '5' is top of the age of 23.5- 24, so this individual will meet their spouse at that age/ get married.

• Going through Transformation in your life :

- if you see 13 or 16 at the top of your age , then at that age your life will drastically change/ you will go through a huge transformation of your life. You will change your location/ your career/ will shift to another country or city.

⚡Moving abroad/ travelling:

If you see 7,10,21,22 above your age then this is the best age for travelling or going abroad.

if you find 21 in your love line(circled part)then most probably you will marry a foreigner.

And if you find 7, 10 , 21 or 22 in this positions then most probably you will go abroad/ find your partner there .

Now , the future spouse part : -

💖 Hints about your future partner :

Look at the number below the heart symbol to know about your future partner. In this chart it's 21.

So, let's explain each numbers -

•Number 1: The magician

- creative and innovative

- skilled and talented

- confident and charismatic

- however they may also struggled with over - confidence and arrogance.

- gemini / Virgo zodiac sign placements

- profession : musicians, writer, public speaker, coaches and mentors , scientist, entrepreneur, marketing and advertising professionals.

- meeting: conference or seminar, art galleries, meuseum, workshop or studio, networking events or industry conference, class or training session.

• Number 2 : High Priestess

- intuitive and wise

- mysterious and enigmatic

- maybe quiet and reserved.

- soft spoken and considerate.

- cancer zodiac sign placements.

- profession: councillors, therapists, psychologist, Nurse or healthcare professionals, social workers, spiritual leaders, energy workers.

- meeting: secret or private settings, libraries, coaching, weddings , meeting in the context of any spiritual retreats.

• Number 3 : Empress

- Full of life , energy and vitality.

- encouraging others to grow and flourish.

- committed, dedicated and faithful.

- Taurus and Libra zodiac sign placements.

- profession: fashion designer , sculptors, teachers and educators,event planer, environmentalists, musicians, healthcare.

- meeting through : parties, gatherings, festival, fair, creative workshops, artistic projects ,meuseum, concerts.

• Number 4 : Emperor

- Natural born leader, authoritative, commanding.

- makes tough decisions with clarity and conviction.

- commited to family and responsibilities.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession: executive, CEO, leader or manager, military officer, architect, Engineer, government officials, buisness owner.

- meeting : buisness meeting, job interviews, formal events , official ceremonies.

• Number 5 : Hierophant

- values established customs, rituals, and institutions.

- upholds ethical standards and moral principles.

- prioritise stability and security over change and uncertainty.

- Taurus zodiac sign placements

- profession: spiritual leaders and mentors, councellor , advisor or consultants, traditional healers or healthcare professionals.

- meeting: spiritual or religious gatherings, traditional ceremonies or rituals, educational and training sessions , counciling or therapy sessions, church,temples , mosques.

• Number 6 : The lovers

- collaborative, work well others.

- empathetic and aware of others feelings.

- true to themselves and their values.

- zodiac sign: Gemini placements.

- profession: counselors, coaches , writer , journalist, artist, musicians, public speaker, philosophers , scientist, researchers.

- meeting : social getherings or parties , creative or artistic collaboration, Beauty or fashion events , community or networking meeting.

• Number 7 : The chariot

- Determined, self disciplined.

- ability to overcome any obstacles and setbacks

- has clear direction

- zodiac : cancer placements

- profession: nurses , social worker, military, architect, psychologist, chefs , nutritionist, hospitality professionals.

- Meeting: family gatherings, home or domestic settings, caregiving or helping professions.

• Number 8 : strength

- courageous, brave , have inner strength.

- has capacity to forgive and let go.

- has self discipline and self control.

- zodiac sign: leo placements

- profession: artist , designer, performers , public speaker, motivator, executives, philanthropist, teacher, councellor, athletes, trainers.

- meeting: park or garden, fitness or wellness center, creative studio or art space, festivals, social gatherings.

• Number 9 : Hermit

- quiet, reflective, and introspective often preferring to spend time alone

- serves as guide or mentor

- discerning and concious about every step they take.

- zodiac sign: Virgo placements.

- profession: therapist, counselors,teachers , coaches , writers, editors, healthcare industry, social worker.

- meeting: therapists or counselor office, library , spiritual or religious sanctuary, coffee shop , book store.

• Number 10 : wheel of fortune

- flexible, able to adjust to changing circumstances.

- believes in destiny

- have philosophical outlook on life.

- zodiac sign: Taurus, leo, scorpio, Aquarius placements.

- profession: life coach, astrologer, environmentalists, entrepreneur, investors, historians.

- meeting: a farm , airport, bus station, temple, monastery, party,park , near mountain or river.

• Number 11 : Justice

- impartial and balanced

- they make descision based on reason and logics.

- have strong sense of morality and ethics.

- zodiac sign: Libra placements

- profession: lawyer, judge, counselors, social worker, activists, advocate, journalist, analyst , or spiritual leader.

- meeting: courthouse, law office, government building, council chamber, community centre, places of worship, philosophical organization.

• Number 12 : Hanged Man

- they are reflective , look inward for answers.

- they are open to new settings.

- courageous, deep understanding of themselves.

- zodiac sign: Pisces placements

- profession : spiritual leaders, therapist, counselor , artist, writer, healthcare industry, motivator, life coach.

- meeting : temples , church , meditation room , yoga class , hospital, library, therapy office,art studio, gym.

• Number 13 : Death

- they are like phoenix from the ashes.

- they can navigate difficult situations and come out stronger.

- constantly growing and evolving.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession: therapist, estate lawyers, spiritual leaders, scientist, healthcare professionals.

- meeting: counselling centre, place of worship, innovation hub or entrepreneurship centres, hospital, wellness center.

• Number 14 : Temperance

- they strive for equilibrium in all aspects of life .

- they prioritise physical, mental and emotional well-being.

- have creative sides.

- zodiac sign: Sagittarius placements .

- profession: doctor or nurse , therapist or counselor, artist or musicians, spiritual leader, international relation specialist , life coach , designer .

- meeting : art galleries or museums, embassies or international conference centres , community centres, clubs , parks , garden , spiritual center , yoga class.

• Number 15 : The devil

- they thinks outside the box and brings fresh ideas .

- magnetic personality, can attract others.

- unconventional, transformative.

- zodiac sign: Capricorn placements.

- profession: politician, CEO, artist, law enforcement, military, detective , investigators, activists, occultist.

- meeting: historic mansion or estate, a secret rooftop, art galleries, studio , book store, library , cafe.

• Number 16 : Tower

- they seek honesty and transparency even if it's uncomfortable.

- rebellious, resilient, revolutionary.

- they are open to new ideas.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession : scientist, inventor, engineer, architect, military officer, crisis manager, technologist.

- meeting: transformation hub, a unique event space or art studio, bookstore, library, co-working space.

• Number 17 : Star

- they have a optimistic outlook of life and believe in a bright future.

- inspiring, peaceful, compassionate.

- creative and imaginative mind.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: creative expression, artist , industry related to healing and wellness, science and technology, humanitarian work, counselors.

- meeting: yoga studio or wellness center, botanical garden or peaceful outdoor setting, co-working space, concerts? , innovation hub.

• Number 18 : The Moon

- they trust their instincts and have a strong connection to their subconscious mind.

- deeply in touch with their emotions.

- unpredictable, may surprise other with their actions.

- zodiac sign : Pisces placements.

- profession : psychic or medium, artist or writer, musician, poet , spiritual teacher, healer, counselors.

- meeting: mystical or esoteric shop, secluded beach, art studio, a spiritual or metaphysical bookstore, coffee shop.

• Number 19 : Sun

- they exude self assurance and positivity.

- optimistic, enthusiastic, charismatic.

- warm hearted , willing to share blessings with others.

- zodiac sign: leo placements.

- profession: actor or performer, artist, CEO , teacher or mentor, event planner, musicians, life coach, designer.

- meeting: cafe / restaurant/ hotel , studio , gathering hall, auditorium, music festival.

• Number 20: Judgement

- they are introspective and willing to confront their past and inner self.

- self aware, have deep understanding of their strengths and weaknesses.

- awakened, courageous, honest.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession : spiritual teacher or guide , therapist or counselor, life coach, researcher, artist or creative expression.

- meeting: spiritual center or temple, yoga class, a writer's workshop, park , garden , therapy or councilling office.

• Number 21: The world

- they have achieved their goals and fullfill their potential.

- compassions, wise, confident

- adventurous and global minded.( Most likely a foreigner)

- zodiac sign: Taurus, Capricorn, leo , placements.

- profession : global diplomat, artist ( global or universal theme) , cultural ambassador, world traveler, humanitarian work.

- meeting: while traveling, international conference centres , airport, spiritual retreat, international art or music venues.

• Number 22 : The fool

- they are willing to take risks and embark on new journeys.

- spontaneous, carefree , open minded.

- have faith in themselves and universe.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: entrepreneur or startup founder, activist, humanitarian work,coach or consultants, designer, scientist,teacher, journalist.

- meeting: spontaneous meet-up or pop up events, inspirational seminars, creative workshops,cafe or coffee shop, outdoor adventure location.

----------------✨✨----------------

END .....( I am tired af 😭)

☞ Healing through marriage

Thanks for reading 💓

-Piko ✨

[milksnake-tea]

━━ say you still dare to dream .

Sunday has lost everything. His status, his home, his sister, all of it has slipped through his fingers, all for a failed attempt at salvation. Now imprisoned and destined to live his life in shameful shadow, you, his former subordinate, appear to offer him one last chance of redemption.

sunday x gn!reader

contains: aftermath of 2.3, depression, sunday at his lowest

word count: 1.5k

a/n: depressed sunday is my favorite sunday. like damn bro you got BROKEN ig this is what being rammed by a train 8 times does to a man... ANYWAYS. DONT TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY THIS IS JUST ME DOING SOME WRITING PRACTICE WITH BEING DRAMATIC hunches over and dies

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina

“I can only allow you a few minutes at most,” says the woman in purple.

A devil in velvet, that was what they called her. Although she may not look like much - from a distance, you’d mistake her as yet another filthy rich vacationer of Penacony - up close, her snake-like eyes and elegantly poised stature, always ready to strike unsuspecting prey, told you just how dangerous she was.

Lady Bonajade, the Stoneheart of Credit and the most deranged loan shark the galaxy had to offer. She who does the impossible and creates miracles for the price of one’s livelihood.

She, who is currently the master who holds the life of the fallen Oak Family Head in her perfectly manicured hands.

You meet her chilling gaze with steeled eyes. With a deep breath, you force down the lodge in your throat.

“I understand.”

Jade smiles. It is neither threatening nor comforting, although you cannot help but feel unsettled by her calm amusement.

“Most of the Family has turned their back on Mr. Sunday,” she comments, crossing her arms and tapping one nail against her arm. “Why haven’t you, I wonder? Surely, a mere subordinate wouldn’t be so loyal to a traitor of this degree.”

You know better than to answer her. After all, all of her questions are rhetorical - tests. She already knows their answers, she just wants to hear them come from your lips.

But you don’t give her that satisfaction. Your silence is answer enough.

You walk past her and come before a heavily armored vault door. A bit much, in your opinion, for a man who has spent the majority of his life asleep. But he is also the man who had taken control of the Asdana system and nearly ascended into Aeonhood, so this level of security is to be expected.

Hundreds of locks and gears turn before the doors open with a hiss and a billowing of smoke. With a mental prayer to Xipe for strength, you step into the dark cell.

There’s little to no light in the small room, leaving you to wonder how Sunday had managed to stay sane all this time. You already know the cells are essentially soundproof, and with so little light, the Family’s prisoners were shut off from the rest of the world and their senses.

The brief rustle of chains catches your attention, and you turn your gaze to the iron throne at the center of the room.

Oh, how far he has fallen.

Once gleaming gold has lost its luster, reflecting not sympathy nor love like you had known them to, but defeat and a resigned acceptance. Fair skin has become drained and faded like that of a corpse. Feather-like hair, once so meticulously cared for, is ruined and frayed.

Bound are the hands that would never raise against another, and shackled are the wings that have never known flight. Caged is the bird who has known no other home; only now, his gilded shackles have become sullied, ugly, disdainful.

He is hollow, empty in every sense of the word - drained of what little vitality he once had.

“Sir,” comes your whisper. He doesn’t respond.

Your footsteps are heavy as you approach. Sunday’s head is bowed - something his pride would’ve never allowed back in the day.

Once upon a time, you had found his arrogance annoying, hypocritical even. Yet at the same time, it was endearing, knowing that even the perfect and saint-like Sunday had his faults. In a sense, it had brought him down to earth, it had made him human.

Seeing him like this, so despondent and defeated, makes you long for the days where he’d scoff at the IPC or make back-handed compliments for his own sick pleasure.

“Sir,” you repeat. You stop before him, and kneel down to one knee.

Sunday’s eyes flick to meet yours, before dropping down to his lap, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. Out of guilt, or out of scorn, you don’t know.

“Why have you come?”

Your heart aches at his voice. It cracks from the days without use, deeper than his typical chirp.

“I am a sinner, a traitor to the Family.” Not once does he meet your gaze again as he speaks. “Visiting me…”

He exhales.

“You should leave.”

“I won’t.”

His hands clench from where they’re bound to the arms of his throne. Briefly, annoyance flashes over him, before he lets it wash away with a slump of his shoulders.

“It would be easier if you just- left me here,” he says painstakingly. “I am of no use to you anymore - if anything, I am a stain. Abandoning me… is the logical thing to do.”

“You and your logistics,” you sigh. “Did it never once occur to you that I cared for you as a person, and not just as my superior?”

His eyes are shaking. Sunday’s expression is pained, like that of a grieving mother.

“Why?” he asks again, his face straining as he tries to understand. “Why are you here?”

Your answer is simple. “To free you.”

Bitterly, the corners of his lips twitch in a cynical chuckle.

“You of all people should know that I was not meant for freedom,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “That is what you believe. Lady Bonajade and I agree that you deserve to have this chance.”

“Lady Jade, huh?” Resentment flashes in his irises as he scoffs. “So you intend to coerce me into accepting charity from the IPC?”

Hurt pangs at your chest and you flinch. “That isn’t-”

“Spare me the concern,” Sunday spits, turning his head. “I may have fallen, but I still have my pride. If that’s all you have to say, you can leave.”

For a moment, you are speechless. Then you are indignant, and you rise slightly, your brows furrowed.

“Why are you so willing to accept your fate?” you ask, almost angrily.

Sunday exhales. “What else am I expected do?”

“This can’t be how your story ends." Your fist balls up the fabric of your pants in its grip. “Locked away, isolated from the rest of the world - that can’t be what you want. It is too cruel a fate for you.”

For you, who loved humanity so deeply.

“Tell me,” you say, gazing up at the man who had torn his skin and carved his heart for the people. “Tell me you want to be freed, and I will do so. I’ll take care of everything. All I need is for you to say that you want it.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers after a moment of silence. “Why, for me…”

“What is there to understand?”

“This is unreasonable,” he starts.

“Not for me, it isn’t,” you say softly. “If it’s for you, nothing is unreasonable.”

His voice raises, trembling upon its crumbling pedestal, panic seeping into every word. “I don’t deserve that kindness - that mercy. I am a sinner, I am a traitor, I am-”

“You are a man worth saving.”

Sunday’s eyes fly open. He stares at you, eyes wide with surprise, his lips parted as to say something, only for the words to die on his tongue.

Your neck is beginning to hurt from how long you’ve been looking up at him, but you push the pain aside.

“The Sunday I knew was kind and gentle,” you say, subconsciously leaning forward. Pent-up emotions, cumulated through the years, begin to bleed into your voice, weighing it down. “He always looked out for the weak, and cared when no one else did. He put others before himself, and even if he was a little arrogant, he was selfless.”

“No,” Sunday protests weakly. “I am not- You- I-”

“You are so much more than you allow yourself to be.”

Rising from the floor, your knees aching slightly, you gently take the face of the fallen angel in your hand. Cradling him like glass, you force him to look at you, to look one of the many he’d betrayed in the face, and see the love for him despite it all.

“Sunday, do you wish for freedom?”

For the many years you’ve worked under him, his eyes have always been a cold gem, calm and unfettered. Never have you seen them glossy with tears, threatening to break at any moment.

You see fear and desire clashing as he grapples for the first time, a choice not for the people, but for himself. You see the beliefs that have been molded into him beginning to crack. You see the caged bird gaze at the world beyond his bars, and for the first time, want to soar beyond them.

Sunday’s lips open and close as he struggles to find the right words to say.

“Where will I go?” he asks instead, tearing his gaze away. It is answer enough.

You smile softly.

“Anywhere you desire.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[txttletale]

I think the (well-ish read)anarchist's response to the insulin bit(or the trains bit, random prison guy aside) is something along the lines of "especially outside of the bounds of profit, what is the meaningful difference between a group of people coming together and organizing their labor to provide a good or a service and a group of people coming together and organizing their labor to provide a good or a service with the vestiges of the state"

Specifically while keeping in mind the idea that collective action and organization is the base metric of society and one that would happen regardless, with varying levels of coercion and control depending on the driving forces. Administration need not be functional capitalists need not be rulership innit?

I think a lot of people who say they're anarchists like. Don't actually read their theory or even really poke it beyond the basics and come away with wildly misguided conclusions and a woeful inability to argue for it.

-anon who finds anarchist philosophy to be incredibly useful as a lens to view and analyze the world through but would call themselves "more of an ML than an anarchist for the sake of practicality" if pressed to say anything at all

sure! i mean if you read state & revolution there is a lot of detail given (drawing examples from the paris commune) on how administrative tasks can be democratized and distributed, diluted of their political character bit by bit until the abolition of class and the ensuing withering of the state

but that administration is vitally important! there is a massive difference between the hobbyist pharmacist gang 'coming together' to 'make some insulin' with no more specific goal or direction other than 'goodwill and solidarity' and a formal, organized medical system capable of training pharmacists, issuing orders for insulin and then distributing that insulin, that is meaningfully accountable should it fail to do any of these things!

i am enormously sympathetic to the idea that socialism will allow people to find pleasure and fulfillment in working, that much of the old systems of coercion will become unecessary quickly, that people are generally disposed to labour for the social good--but tendencies and general dispositions are not good enough to guarantee the lives of millions--only actual organization is, bottom-up organization certainly, organization by a central body consisting of workers elected by workers and accountable to workers certainly, but nevertheless organization of and yes, bodies with authority over production and distribution.

[anayio]

CORRECTİONALOFFİCESİNFO - GOLD

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[unphasedslacker]

i adore the "cale uses everyone as a pillow" agenda !! part of my hc is that he has an internal rating system for it, it consists of the following points:

comfort - how comfortable is the not-actually pillow? durability - can they handle him clinging, tossing and turning, etc? how far can he go before they decide to wake him up? duration - how long can he rest on them?

i have already thought of a few potential set ratings, and will probably add more later on!

Choi Han

the first time it happened, it was an accident. although the vitality of the heart keeps him from getting tired even after only sleeping for an hour or two, when it comes down to it, it's just not enough.

cale sat down on the comfortable couch in his room, he and the others had just returned from their travels to the henituse territory. the red-head had every intention of resting, as soon as he finished up his discussion with choi han. he needed to make sure the korean wasn't left to his own devices, who knows what might occur if he were - cale shuddered at the thought of the swordmaster destroying the training grounds out of boredom. better not dwell on it.

said man took a seat next to cale, keeping a respectful distance, and looked at him expectantly - like a puppy waiting for it's well-deserved treat. the aristocrat talked for a while, giving commands and suggestions, and making sure that choi han knew everything on the training grounds, be it weaponry or other, was available for him to use, when he was suddenly hit with intense drowsiness. cale blinked once, twice, before continuing where he left off, albeit a bit slower.

it only took a minute before choi han found himself with an unconscious red-head on his lap, using his clothed thighs as his pillow. the korean wasn't sure what to do, face red from embarrassment (read: he's flustered) - should he call for ron?

...

better not, that butler will take his head when sees them like this.

choi han let his gaze fall on the man who'd showed him nothing but kindness since their first meeting, giving and giving and asking for little to nothing in return, and decided that this was fine. cale hasn't rested properly in weeks, so the fact that he fell asleep the moment the two of them were alone felt like an honour more than anything. did he trust him so much that cale felt safe enough to finally relax? (he'd like to think so...)

yes, this was quite the honour.

'don't worry, cale-nim. i won't let anyone, or anything, get near you.'

if said man could've heard choi han's thoughts, he would've spit blood.

Rating ✨

3/5 comfort (ch's thighs are muscular, and cale did feel safe while asleep.. we don't talk about how he felt when he woke up), 5/5 durability (ch wouldn't dare to do anything to disturb cale's sleep), 5/5 duration (same as durability, ch would sit in the same spot, not daring to move even a muscle, to ensure cale's 100% comfort)

overall: 13/15, choi han makes a really good pillow

[bits-and-babs]

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 – 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

↳ summary: Miguel, believing he understands the extent of his mutation, takes a bite. Only- you don't react the way he expects. At all.

↳ pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

↳ content [4.2k]: 18+ MDNI. SMUT, literally 4k words of porn without plot with a little extra at the end. Miguel's venom is sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), biting, blood drinking (I know he’s not a vampire, I don’t care), oral (f receiving), fingering, use of name mami because I am disgusting, unprotected p in v sex. Not proof read, possibly OOC, I haven't seen ITSV, I was forced to write this against my will (jk) ((but not really)).

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Crimson burns itself into your retinas as Miguel steps into your line of sight, and the spider-skull hybrid symbol emblazoned across his vast chest swallows your vision. Brown locks of hair drape across his forehead, over his lashes, and frames the intense scarlet gaze he levels you with. Staring up at the impossibly tall man through your heavy lids, you catch the tick in his jaw, the muscle twitching when he reaches towards your neck and traces his fingertip across the length of your jugular vein with a delicate touch. It tickles, skittering across your goosepimpled skin above your bludgeoning pulse.

"Shut it," he speaks flatly, the quiet lilt of his tone amplified by the silence in the room. Your heart thuds painfully hard against your ribs at the sound of his voice, your toes curling when Miguel settles his thumb and forefinger under the curve of your jaw. His palm stretches the length of your throat, fingers splayed across your neck. You can feel the knuckles of his pinky dig into your collarbone, a reminder of just how massive the wingspan of his hand is. 

"I- I didn't-" you fumble, the words dissipating when you see the fleshy pink of Miguel's tongue drag over the enamel daggers that protrude from his lips. The slight squeeze of his hand across your throat impedes any attempts to regain your train of thought, blood rushing to your head as he applies pressure to the vital blood flow to your brain. 

"I can hear you," he insists, a snarl curling his lips as bitter irritation flashes across his face, burning in the carmine of his irises, "Can hear what you're thinking."

Heat floods your cheeks, prickling warmth proliferating and creeping down your throat. Miguel seems anguished by the sensation of your heart palpitations pounding against the fissures of his palm, his thick, dark brows pinching together as he wets his full lips with the flat of his tongue. 

"Stay still," he urges you, a twinge of something that sounded as though he was pleading sparking through your nervous system. Crushing your eyelids closed, red and navy rotate in kaleidoscopic swirls in your vision as you feel Miguel's hair brush against the curve of your cheek. You whimper softly and flinch at the sensation of the tip of his nose skirting the angle of your neck. You hear him inhale, drawing the intoxicating scent of you into his lungs before letting out a groan, the exhale fanning across your skin. 

"Just a taste," he husks, mindless as he squeezes your neck harder. The pad of Miguel's thumb probes your thrumming pulse, and he moans loudly when he feels your heart lurch at the soft drag of his fangs against your throat. 

"Miguel-" you choke out, his feral grip tightening at the sound of your voice. 

"Fuck," he whispers, whimpers, slowly sinking the point of his fangs into the delicate flesh across the nape of your neck. You cry out, the pain of the punctures pinching sharply, and bury your nails into the expansive muscle of his bicep. Miguel's chest heaves dramatically, brushing your arm with each shuddering inhale as your blood seeps across his tongue. 

It's an odd sensation, the suction of his lips as he draws your ichor into his mouth, but it simmers deep and low in your abdomen, the weird feeling made worse by the vibration of his delighted moan. The gulping sounds his throat made echo in your ears, and you can almost imagine the flutter of his thick lashes as he lathes his tongue over the puncture wounds. 

Miguel inhales deeply as though he's chugged a pint of water, his lips barely departing from your weeping wound as he mumbles to himself repeatedly; just a taste, just a taste–

His wanton tone dries your mouth, your head throbbing with a mind-numbing migraine as you feel the muscles in your body tense. Coated in blood, Miguel chases the blood that had settled into the cracks of his lips with his tongue and savours the last morsels he can find.  

You could cry. Could burst into tears on the spot because Miguel looks gorgeous. He always did, always made your stomach flip when he entered the room and cast his brooding gaze over you, but you felt breathless as you gazed at him now, weightless. 

Fuck, he's so beautiful. His rich, dark features all fight for your attention; the arc of his cheekbones, long lashes dipped low as he takes you in and the way his obscenely large muscles ripple as he leans back to look you in the eyes. 

Blinking slowly, you whine when Miguel leans back into your throat for another taste. Something warm pools in the depths of your stomach when his tongue drags over the chords of your neck. Fuck- are you turned on right now?!

"Hng-Hot," you mumble in embarrassment, feeling a prickling warmth creep over your body. The damp sensation of perspiration clings to your forehead, moistening your hairline as Miguel pulls away from your throat to look you in the eye with a hmm?

"Hot," you repeat, the simmering sensation rapidly roiling to a scalding temperature. "'S too hot, Miguel–"

The fabric of your clothes clings to your back, your fingers itching to rip the material from your body. Miguel looks perplexed by your sudden lack of composure, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as his eyes flick between your own. 

"Your pupils," he assesses, tone clinical as he reaches to take your chin into his hand once more, "They're dilated– you look sick."

The instant his fingertips brush the skin of your cheeks, you flinch from the scorching sensation that sparks beneath his touch. You pinch your eyelids together, letting out a sob of his name as you frantically attempt to push him away. 

"Miguel, no!" Your voice strains, pleading that Miguel stays away from you despite the evident worry that curls his fingers into tight fists. Fuck, why are you thinking of jumping his bones? It's desperate, a carnal need to rip that stupid fucking fancy lycra suit from his enormous, sexy muscles. You could grind your hips across those abs, ease the sudden pulse in your clit-

You wheeze, the stifling temperature causing your body to shift to autopilot as you pinch the hem of your shirt between your trembling fingers. "Hurts–"

"I cannot help if you push me awa-" Miguel's vexed attempt to reprimand your childish behaviour does little to knock you back to your senses, your eyes dragging the length of his ridiculously formed body with a searing desperation that stops him in his tracks. "What are you doing?"

"Hot, it's too fucking hot, Migu– Shut up–" you beg him for silence, his voice only worsening the frantic, irregular thrum of your heart. It's fruitless, though, because the flitting of his eyes across your body is enough to arc the arousal that blooms through you. 

Concern finally begins to worm its way into Miguel's body language, his hands searching over the messy countertops. He clears his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. 

"Blood sample," he speaks with that air of finality he always led with, "I will take a blood sample. You may be having a reaction to somethi-"

Shame does little to reason with your wandering hands, yanking your t-shirt over your head as he speaks. You're following what he says, but your mind lags behind like a faulty video-call signal. Blood sample, mhm-hmm, yeah, god, you wanna fuck him so bad– reaction?

When you finally pull your head from the neckline of your t-shirt, you find Miguel rooted in place. A needle rests in his loose grip, and he holds it aloft as if ready to take the sample from your arm– but it appears his plan is obliterated as his eyes zero in on your tits, his usually stoic expression rendered astonished by the view in front of him.

"... It's the venom," he rasps, slowly, achingly slowly, dragging his eyes back to your face, "You're reacting to the venom." 

Perhaps it should be a relief that Miguel is a genius and that he'd managed to deduce the reason for your severe discomfort reasonably quickly, or maybe you should feel more concerned that you're experiencing a severe reaction to a venom that he held in his fucking teeth, but the sheer desperation to ease the arousal pooling between your thighs overtook any and all fear. Instead, you frenziedly shove your hand down the waistband of your jeans... Right in front of Miguel. 

"Aye- easy, easy–" he attempts to placate you, but once again, he finds himself lost for words as he watches you flop back into your desk chair, head lolled back and thighs spread wide as you undeniably rub at your clit beneath the denim of your jeans. 

"Ahaaa-" you wail, tears welling in your eyes and slipping down your temples as you rock your hips up to meet the friction of your fingertips, "S'not enough, Miguel- it's not enou- it hurts." 

It's disgusting; the wet squelch of your fingers entering your cunt practically bouncing off the walls. An anguished groan rattles in your chest as you cum. The sensation is as though your orgasm has been spoilt, the ecstasy that accompanied a climax instead curdling into a painful need for more. Slick weeps into the crotch of your panties and jeans, and you rip your hand from your jeans to tear the whole stupid item of clothing over your hips as they arch off the seat. 

"Cariño," you hear Miguel's soft voice urge you to look at him, and your vision blurs as you glance up with tear-soaked eyelashes. You sob when your eyes finally focus, observing the blackness of Miguel's eyes as he watches you get off. The wet sounds get louder, more hurried as you frantically rub your clit at the sight of him, the sound of his voice.

"I can help you," he promises, voice firm. The declaration pulls another devastatingly cruel orgasm from you, your back arching off the seat as if attempting to escape the brutally painful orgasm that does nothing to satiate the toxins Miguel had accidentally inserted into your bloodstream. 

"Yes," you pant loudly, tears streaming down your face as you nod your head wildly in agreement. The ethics of this agreement, sex with him, are lost on you at this moment, far too occupied with the notion of stopping the debilitating clench of your cunt and nerve-searing heat beneath your skin. 

Miguel says nothing as he strides forward, crossing the line of demarcation you had drawn between the two of you effortlessly with his broad stride. His hands immediately find the waistband of your jeans, where they settle just above your knees, and shucks them from your legs as you continue to appeal for mercy. 

"Please," you beg, grasping the arms of the office chair so hard that they threaten to splinter between your fingers. Miguel simply scowls at you from his position between your thighs, kneeling down on the floor and peeling back your drenched panties to gain access to your dripping, fluttering cunt. "Please, Migu-ughhh!" 

Miguel leads with his tongue, pulling the entire length across your engorged clit so slowly that your toes cramp when they curl. You sob loudly, fat tears streaking down your cheeks and throat as you rock your hips up against his face. It's rough and messy, and your clit bumps his nose each time you thrust upwards despite the vice-like grip that Miguel holds on your thighs. 

"Oh my god-" you keen, your fingers grasping onto the hair at the crown of his head to brace against the onslaught of pleasure that drenches you, "Oh fu-fuhuck- don'tcumdon'tcum-" you ramble, eyes rolling back into your skull as the tip of his tongue draws lazy circles around your clit.

"F-Fuck- fuck me-" you wheeze, expelling all the oxygen from your lungs when his fingers prod at the slick entrance of your pussy. 

"Shut up," he rasps, slowly sinking the first two joints of his index finger into your wet heat. He watches your hips raise, thighs spreading wide as you wordlessly whine. "Do not speak."

It's cruel, but there's no malice to his words because he shifts his wrist slightly and sinks the entire length of his index finger into you. You rock forwards to meet it, feeling yourself clench around the intrusion. Miguel can feel it too, you're sure of it, because he lets out a devastatingly sexy hum before dropping his head down to tongue your clit again. 

You try; you truly do, but the mixture of Miguel's tongue on your clit and his fingertip just barely missing a calamitous spot inside you launches the words from your throat before you can stop them. 

"F-Please-" you gasp, "Please let me taste you. Ohh- please don't stop- j-just put it in my mouth, I wanna feel the stretch of it in my thro–" 

"Quiet," Miguel snaps, his voice strained as he pulls back from your clit but hastens his finger's movements. It's there- it's right fucking there, that spot inside you that you know will eviscerate every atom in your body. Your head falls back again, your spine lifting from the chair as you brace against the rising threat of your orgasm. 

"I'm- Oh fuck, I-aham gonna cum-" you sob towards the ceiling, rocking your hips down and taking his maddeningly long digit even deeper. Miguel hums in acknowledgement, resting his still tongue on your clit for you to fuck yourself on. The barbarically wet sound of you sinking onto the length of his finger reaches your ears and–

Sudden, painful bliss bursts through you, a garbled slur of Miguel's name tearing through your throat as static rings in your ears. You feel yourself clench and flutter around his fingers, Miguel's tongue lapping at your pulsing clit and hurling you even further into the rapture that streams through your body. 

Your thighs tremble on either side of his head, knees draped over his robust shoulders. Miguel groans softly and licks and sucks on the mess you've made, slick smeared all over his mouth, chin and nose. You can barely move, your muscles screaming in exhaustion, but-

"M-Miguel-" you whine, shaking your head with tears in your eyes, "M-more, I need more-" 

"Dios mío, mami," he groans into your cunt, and you see white. His oddly affectionate name for you resets your orgasm, and you're teetering over it again. Your feet brace against his back, pushing your heels into the thick, chorded muscles to pull him impossibly closer to your pussy. It's as though your hips have a mind of their own, grinding feverishly against Miguel's pretty nose. 

Through the blur of your ecstasy, you see Miguel's brows lift in surprise in a wordless question of 'already?' It's all you need, euphoria smashing through every nerve ending and setting them ablaze. It soaks his face even more, you feel it gush, and Miguel rumbles with the most delectable groan. At the peak of your orgasm, he inserts a second finger. It brushes against that mind-bending spot inside you that makes your body writhe when the ridges of his fingertips tease the neglected pleasure centre. 

Strands of your hair cling to your sweat-damp face, dried tear tracks wetted again by the flow of more of the salty liquid from your eyes. You look absolutely wrecked; you feel it. So why did your clit still pulse with need when Miguel withdrew his cum-soaked face? 

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," you ramble, voice stripped hoarse by your constant barrage of whines and moans. 

Glancing down, you note the tight pinch of Miguel's eyebrows. He's straining against the skin-tight material of the suit, the thin canvas clinging to his body so well that you see the lurch of his cock as he licks your cum from his lips. "We should do this all the time-"

Miguel rudely interrupts you, using his godlike strength to effortlessly hoist you from that stupid office chair. He doesn't bother taking you somewhere comfortable, your panting breaths and writhing hips evidence you wouldn't last the thirty-second walk to the sofa. Instead, he drapes you over his workbench, discarding the invaluable equipment over the table's edge and spreading your thighs wide. 

"Never again," Miguel insists, but he'd already revealed his weak constitution at the beginning of the ludicrous mess. Just a taste, he'd said, before leaning in for more of your blood. That same lack of self-discipline infects him now; you can see it in his eyes as he strips himself of the ridiculous spider suit and presses his cock against your fluttering cunt. 

You can feel it, the size of the bulbous head that sweeps through your slick folds. It brushes over your clit, the velvety skin rendering you helpless to the heavenly pleasure that bursts through you. But-

"It's not- it's not gonna go in-" you whimper softly, stretching your arms out to push his hips away desperately. "Oh god, Miguel- I can't take that-"

"You will," he nods firmly with a jut of his chin. He's determined; his eyes alight when you writhe beneath him. It's so loud, the sound of your leaking cunt soaking the underside of his cock in your slick. "You're drenching me, Cariño; you can take it."

Miguel notches at your entrance for emphasis, lightly pushing against where your flesh gives way to his adamant intrusion. The smooth, rounded head threatens to sink inside of you, stretch you impossibly wide. "Dios-" Miguel grunts, bowing his head low. His shoulders tremble, hips frozen in place as he takes deep, shuddering breaths. Wha-

"What's wrong?" You stiffen at the worrying body language he's displaying. Had you done something wrong? Did he not want to go through with it now-?

Another quivering exhale expels from Miguel's lungs, his huge hands gripping onto your hips as though they were the only thing preventing him from plunging from the side of a New York skyscraper. It's bruising you, ten sharp points jabbing into your skin, but the pain encourages the pleasure. It's too much. 

"So fucking tight," Miguel wheezes, rocking his hips forward slightly. He's met with resistance despite how your head hangs from the edge of the desk, wailing a mixture of profanities and his name at the ceiling. "It's too fucking tight, mami; you gotta relax-"

"Miguel!" You sob in anguish, tears sliding from the corners of your eyes settle in the hair at your temples. "It hurts- I need it so bad, c-can't wait- just fucki-" 

A snarl rips up Miguel's throat, using his grip on your flesh to pull your hips back onto his as he plunges forward. You see his nostrils flare, the flash of his fangs before the white-hot bliss rocks through you, his cock slipping past your walls and burying itself to the hilt in one heavy push. 

Your sharp inhale stretches the mass of your lungs as your fingers dig into the tanned skin of his forearms. Pain stabs through your abdomen, and the sudden thrust ripples pain through your expression before the excruciating arc of bliss surges when you feel the head of his cock nudge against your cervix. 

"Holy shit-" you squeak out, nails stabbing bloody crescent moons into the rippling muscles you hold onto, "I can-ahan't! Fuck, Miguel, you- hgnnnn fuck!"

It's as though Miguel loses control of his hips. He begins to ram into you, his flesh slapping against your own and echoing and ricocheting off the walls. Damp sweat already clings to his body from the exertion, each harsh slam into you pushing your trembling body up the length of his desk. 

"Hah," he gasps out when you involuntarily squeeze around the girth of his cock, Miguel's eyes snapping to your own in a frenzy, "So tight for me, Cariño. This little cunt's so greedy for me." 

The pistoning of his throbbing cock into your sickeningly wet pussy has your mind spinning, the velvet of his voice numbing your mind like some kind of neurotoxin. You're drenching the both of you, the thighs you'd locked around his waist slipping down his hips as you struggle to brace against the onslaught of your arousal. 

"M-Miguel-!" You croak, voice wrecked. 

His dark eyebrows pinch together as he continues his devastating pace. "So fucking greedy. Always looking at me with those eyes. You think I don't- fuck- don't hear your dirty thoughts about me?" 

Whining loudly, the embarrassment does little to quell the rising orgasm that prickles the edges of your body. It feels enormous, threatens to tear your body apart at the seams and stitch you back together all wrong. Like you'd never feel complete again without the delicious stretch of Miguel's cock.

"I can feel it," Miguel murmurs, voice uncharacteristically soft despite the way he's brutalising your cunt, "Can you? I can feel you squeezing me- fuck, you're so fucking wet, mami-"

"S-Shut up–" you hiccup, voice sounding distant to your own ears. It feels like your nails have burrowed down to the calcium of Miguel's radius and ulna, your grip vice-like as you steel against the terrifying sensation of a universe-altering orgasm quickly approaching. 

Miguel's neck flexes, veins bulging against his bronzed skin as the swell threatens to take over. 

"Come on. Ah, fuck- fuck, you're gonna cum again. Come on," he urges you, dark eyes flitting over you as Miguel reaches to push the pad of his thumb against your clit. 

It barely brushes the fraught nerves before ecstasy settles between each of your vertebrae. Your pussy flares, gripping onto the throbbing thickness of him. Shaking violently, your thighs squeeze Miguel's waist as everything tightens, pulses, spasms. Anguished, pained wails pour from your lips in a deluge, jaw slack, debilitating ecstasy rendering you utterly helpless to the instinctual motions of your body. You're rocking up against him while simultaneously attempting to escape the sensation. 

A rumble vibrates through Miguel's chest as he dips his head low, sweat-drenched ebony strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he focuses on how you tighten around him. 

"Oh fuck, yes," Miguel's voice pierces through your mind-numbing bliss, all lilted and pitchy, "That's it, mami, that's what I need- th-that- oh fuck–"

It's a heavenly sight, the way his body flexes and ripples above you as he buries his cock into you, down to the hilt. Miguel's dark, gorgeous eyes roll back in his head, eyelashes fluttering as his orgasm is pulled from him. You feel the hot, thick spurts of cum paint your walls as he empties his load over and over and over. You're exhausted, powerless to do anything other than bathe in the sensation of your cunt convulsing around Miguel's throbbing cock. 

A heavy exhale fans across your face as Miguel's hands settle on either side of your head, the two of you fighting to draw oxygen into your burning lungs. The blazing need that had charred your abdomen ebbs into smothered embers, and you peer up at Miguel with a mindless, dazed expression. 

He doesn't move, his softening cock still buried in your cunt as his hands tighten into fists beside your ears. Miguel opens his eyes, a heavy glare aiming at the corner of the room, at nothing in particular, as he attempts to come down from whatever height you'd thrown him to. 

"That-... That's not what's supposed to happen."

☆☆☆

Bright, florescent lights beat down on you in the doctor's office, and you squint against their intrusion in your eyes but also the dull, painful throb of your brutalised cunt. You should be curled up in bed, mortified by the mindblowing sex you'd just had with Miguel and drafting up a text message to tell him you will never be seeing him again due to the ruinous humiliation you felt every time you recalled the stupid shit you'd said. 

Instead, you were simmering in that very same awkwardness, but with Miguel settled back in the seat beside you. He's wallowing in his own form of abashed grief as he awaits the results of your blood tests from the man in the white coat across the table from you. 

"Aha, here we go!" The indecently cheery doctor cuts through the tense, funeral-like atmosphere that had settled between the both of you. The mouse in his hand clicks as he sorts through the file, reading it through. "They've just come in now." 

"Is it anything I should be worried about?" Miguel speaks before you can draw breath, and you don't fail to note the word I. Why is he worried?!

"No, not at all," the doctor smiles, glancing between the two of you as he taps the computer screen with his finger. You can feel Miguel settle, the tense energy that had been drawing his shoulders up tight seeming to dissipate with the threat of danger ruled out. 

... What? 

"Elevated heart rate, the sweats, shivers, flushed skin, pain," the doctor reads through your list of symptoms that Miguel had given before you'd even stepped into the doctor's office. Conveniently, he'd left out the more obvious traits that had taken precedence over the milder afflictions. "While these are all very scary, it's not much to worry about."

"So then, what happened?" Your voice is a mumble, hoarse from the strain of your activities with Miguel.

The doctor smiles, a shrug lifting his shoulders to evidence his lack of concern. "Says here you just have an allergy to spider bites."

Miguel, usually stoic and indecipherable, sinks into his seat with an expression that bleeds mortification.

... Oh. 

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[helenofsparta2]

One thing I’ll never be able to forgive Game of Thrones, especially the later seasons, is the way they warped the conception of so many characters, and completely dumped down their complexity.

Jon Snow is not my favourite character because he is this perfect, always noble hero, who is a great, badass swordfighter.

He is my favourite character because, while he is more morally righteous than a lot of other characters, he can be bitter, and sarcastic and ruthless. Because he used to be arrogant and thought of himself as better than his brothers at the nights watch because of his upbringing but learned to overcome his prejudices again and again and again, first towards the men at the watch, then later towards the wildlings. Because he has always been jealous of Rob and secretly dreamed of being lord of Winterfell, but still refuses Stannis’ offer to get legitimized because of his oaths and because he defends Sansa’s and Arya’s claims. Because he has a strong inner conflict between his intense, often romanticized, desire to someday have a wife and children, he could name after Robb, and his position as a bastard and as Lord Commander of the Night’s watch. Because he tries so hard to be a son Ned Stark would be proud of and tries to be as honorable as he has always been taught, but would still drop his oaths to save his family any day.

Because he makes mistakes as Lord Commander, which cost him his life in the end, but is one of the only characters who sees the big picture and whose efforts will be vital in defeating the Others. Because he is hunted by the ghosts of teh dead. Because he is a Warg, and deeply involved in the magical side of a song of ice and fire, but most of the time acts as pragmatic as possible. Because he is able to win the respect of Stannis, of Aemon, of Lord Commander Mormont, of many brothers of the night’s watch, in spite of his parentage. Because in a world, where bastards are mostly seen as deceitful and dangerous, and their existence has often caused rebellions and wars, especially within the Targaryen dynasty, he loves his family more than anything and is seen as a symbol of safety and home by Arya, Sansa and Bran. Because while Catelyn Stark feared he would someday endanger her children’s birth rights, he is the one, that defends it the most.

Daenerys Targaryen is not one of my favourite characters because she is a Targaryen queen who has dragons and burns slavers, but because she is a young girl who has gone through immense suffering, but still tries desperately to be a good queen.

She makes mistakes, she can be hypocritical and ruthless, she lacks wisdom and experience. She is the mother of dragons, and has close to no idea how to raise and train them. She is disillusioned about Viserys and her father, and is the antithesis to the entire Targaryen dynasty, but still clings to every new piece of information about her brother Rhaegar. She desires to have a home and a family, and wants power not for the sake of power, but because she wants the ability to make the lives of other people better and protect those who can not protect themselves. She wants her kingdom to be beautiful, full of fat men, and pretty maids and laughing children. She is one of the most powerful characters in the books, the one who brought dragons back, and will break the system, but often does not know how to do that and sometimes does not know how to deal with the consequences of her actions. She listens to the smallfolk and nobility alike. She is barely 16 years old in a dance with dragons but acts as an older sister figure to Missandei and a mother figure to her people.

Arya Stark is not one of my favourite characters because she is a cold assassin, and “not like other girls”, but because Arya “underfoot” gets along with soldiers and smallfolk alike and finds friends wherever she goes.

Because she has the wildness of the north in her, and is tomboyish, but doesn’t look down on feminine women and girls. She uses her list as a coping mechanism after seeing her father die. She tries to become this strong assassin, but clings to the memories of her family, especially Jon, and her home. She is (probably) the second strongest Warg in the Stark family. She thirsts for revenge, and doesn’t hesitate to kill, but still has a strong sense of justice, and doesn’t lose her ability to socialize.

I could go on and on and on. I could talk about how Cersei is no cold, calculating player of the game, but a delusional, unpredictable, but very entertaining narcissist, or how Tyrion is becoming a revenge-obsessed, bitter villain. I could talk about Sansa, or the entirety of Dorne or about Stannis Baratheon, or so amny other characters.

George R. R. Martin has crafted so many complex, and fascinating characters in this rich wolrd and narrative, and their treatment in the later seasons of the Tv-show adaptation really make my soul bleed.

[nekovmancer]

Broken porcelain

pairing: Ramattra x f!reader  prompt: sexual tension when tending to someone's wound from this list warnings: semi-nsfw, mentions of blood, injuries, semi-nudity, swearing, reader being a bit masochist etc etc word count: 2272 a/n: backstreet's back, alright! and finally. 😎 I’ve been a bitch with a big B for Ramattra over the past couple months, and of course I had to write a piece on that robot guy. He gives me… feels I can’t explain. So, for all my fellow robot fuckers, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing! Feedback is always appreciated and please please please send an ask, a chat, anything so we can talk about this big guy and more fanfiction prompts. 😭 also on ao3!

Who would ever say to be a human amongst killing machines would, impressively, be a dreadly task? Or deadly, you would remark to yourself after a long walk of dragging your wounded body through the corridors from the training field to Ramattra’s personal workshop. At least, those new assassin omnics would perform their duties impeccably, you could tell from the way they cut through your skin without a single issue.

The wound was still covered under the thin layer of the tank top you have on, the white fabric damp of crimson blood denouncing something went terribly wrong, not to mention the pained expression contorting your face. 

As soon as he eyes your state, if Ramattra could bring a worried expression to the surface of his faceplate, he would, a mirror to the torment running through his systems. He was an engineer, not a human healer, but you needed him to act more as such in the present moment if you’re both willing for you to stay alive, which you indeed were. 

Growing impatient, not to mention the pain reaching under your skin, you adjust yourself slowly on top of his workbench, holding your side to prevent any further damage. Your fingers get moist with blood, and that has your lips twitching. “Can you fix me or not?” 

“That depends on your meaning of fixing,” he states, a stoic demeanor on the outside despite feeling quite the opposite inside. Feeling. Something he didn’t think to be inclined to, at least not when those diverged from the violence he was shaped to perform as a being… and yet, here they are, as foreign to him as the surgical aspects of flesh and bone. “I can’t weld you, obviously. At least, not as a first resource,” his slight humor brings a faint smirk to your lips, slowly shaking your head in a quiet response. In a lighter tone, Ramattra proceeds, and now it’s definitely a command. “I would like to have a closer look.”

Quietness follows, not as fast as the warmth spreading from your neck to the tip of your ears. To say you hadn’t considered you’d need to remove your shirt was unnecessary, in front of him of all people, ‘cause you’d rather overcome your own fear of blood if a second thought had you aware of the chances before. But as the old saying remarked: if you are in hell already, just go and sit on the goddamn devil’s lap.

Proceeding a thick swallow, you do as you’re told, diverting your eyes to a corner to avoid examining the cut yourself, or to avert them from Ramattra’s, anything and everything were an excuse in such a situation. It hurt just enough to be something you knew you couldn't handle alone, and considering how sharp that assassin’s knives were… fuck’s sake, what a weak fool you were.

On the other hand, at the sight of your almost bare torso, Ramattra felt inexplicably tense. The wound itself was not too deep to reach anything vital, but would need a patch up indeed in order to heal properly. Yet, his sight wasn’t restrained to that minor part of your skin, and that’s when tension was found. Maybe the vocabulary wasn’t a perfect fit, ‘cause that jolt of electricity running through his circuits was something else, something as sublime as the curve of your hips, and the way you shallow breaths of anticipation had your body quivering, despite an enormous strength to keep it still. He could hardly find beauty in human beings, and let’s not even mention himself, but that was a whole different scenario… warm, with a hint of degradation he couldn’t ignore, and something that could only be named as akin to desire. 

The silence was killing you now, almost making you forget the very pain which brought you there in the first place. “Will we be helding any funerals?” you risk, in the same light humor he used with you before. At least, if you didn’t consider the shaking tone in each syllable you’d pronounced. You thought Ramattra couldn’t  never understand your concerns fully, even if he invested all his force to: if the worst happened, he could be reconstructed, you were there for it after all. But as a human, it’s not like you have a respawn chance anytime. That’s why, aside the anxiety turning your stomach into a knot, you needed him to act. 

“You speak as if it's more severe than it is in fact,” he muses, tilting his head as the scanners on his optics do the rest of the work, searching for the right proceeding in a shared data file, where he was hoping to get anything from an omnic model whose initial propose, contrasting his, was to heal, not to kill. “No funerals, you have my word. The pain may be harsh, but the wound itself is of little harm in the bigger picture. You’re safe,” the addition of the last sentence has you sighing in relief, and a pinch of pain reaches you once more, but it’s bearable. Ramattra made you feel protected, or better, cared for. The warm feeling is enough to soothe your anxiety, dissipating the chill air in the workshop for a little while before rushing up to your cheeks as you’re reminded you’re still half naked in front of him. 

“Lay,” he commands, and your breath gets caught in your throat in the act. Only if your mouth were open, your heart would surely jump out if it during one of its chaotic heartbeats, contrasting the steady tone on Ramattra’s voicebox, echoing those words without a single trace of malice. But when they hit you, they sounded profane, leaving a delicate trace of forbidden to the tip of your tongue. 

You curse your mind as you lay down, a shiver erupting from the contact of warm skin to the cold metal of his workbench’s surface. Fuck, he’s your commander, superior office or whatever goes between you both, your boss to be short. Thing is he saw a purpose for you and spared your life long ago, and that purpose goddamn sure didn’t imply any… deeper contact than the occasional intellectual help you provided, with efficient (and smaller) hands and a cunning mind. After all, no Ravager was made to indulge in such a thing as intimacy, the very same thought cursing through Ramattra’s systems right now. He wasn’t built for delicacy, a single gentle touch for his standards would be brutal enough to leave you bruised for days, and how he would lament to see such perfect skin ruined by his own hands… unbearable to even think of it without feeling a strange sensation housing between his metallic limbs, pushing further inside in search of a bloody beating heart among the cold hardware. 

It wasn’t the first time he felt unsure in his existence, but that was a whole new thing. To think one like him was able to possess a spirit tender enough to be mesmerized by such a fragile thing as you touched him not physically, but deeper than it could ever be… how thrilling it was, but insufficient to make him search for its source on his internal data to completely erase it. No, never. He was actually holding into it with every fiber of his soul, curious to see which path it would lead him through. A bit embarrassing, at first impression, like the sight of you would burn his optics until they melt.

After all these years working along, was it there all the time? Within him, within you? He would search for it later, revisiting each time you shared each other's company in his memory, to see where a quiet admiration turned into this. 

After gathering the resources to fix you, ensuring everything was sterilized, he turned to sight over your form once more. Ramattra could sense the rapid heartbeat against your chest controlling your breath motions, the rising and falling of your chest following along, where he caught a peek of your nipples drawing a small circle under the fabric of your top, the last barrier between him and your fully exposed torso. Thankfully, unlike any human, his faceplate didn't betray any of his thoughts. They’re guarded within his systems, safe in his memory and imprinted there forever. Nothing could ever make him forget of you, nor time, nor enemies, nor… fuck, the injury. 

“It would feel better if you were asleep,” he commences, carefully. You’re already scared for it seems, and it’s not on his wishes to make it worse. “Instead, I will ask you to bite on this,” the discarded cloth of your tank top is brought to your lips, and your heart could have stopped right there. Instead, avoiding the disbelief, you silently obey. “Try not to move. I shall be slow.”

A nod follows, and you gather your best to not whine, or flinch, or sob too much when his hands begin to work, stitching the wound close. Whatever sounds leaving your mouth are muffled, and the pain is great. But erotic. And, fuck, you should be loosing your mind by this point. How could your brain process such agony in a pleasurable way? You’d be blaming the omnic in charge of patching you up, for sure. It was him, after all, all about him. 

Ramattra was enormous, and the effort he put in each precise movement didn’t go unnoticed. He could have discarded you, blamed you for your mistakes, assigned anyone else to deal with this bullshit, but there he was: the infamous Null Sector leader, treating you as a precious porcelain tea-cup, once broken, now being patched in threads of gold, despite the gold being metaphorical. It was a form of art, wasn’t it? You’ve read of it somewhere, once. If so, right now, you’re his masterpiece.

To say he’s being delicate is a statement. Ramattra is afraid he could shatter you again, worse than they did with you before. The responsible for it would be severely corrected, later of course. The pads on his fingertips could never be soft as your skin feels under them, and an eagerness to venture further brings a shiver of electricity through his spine. Should he ever be thinking of it in your state? In fact, was it reasonable to have you consuming his memory like this, injured or not? What could be a groan echoes from his voicebox, and within a few long minutes, it was done. 

Your jaw clenches to the minimum effort of raising your torso, sitting on his workbench once more as a small discomfort to the newly sewn cut emerges. Covered in bandages, you can’t see his work, but there’s no blood and the pain is moderate, so you trust with your eyes closed it’s perfectly fine. Your shirt is sitting by your side, bloodied and wet from your own saliva, but you don’t mention reaching for it. 

Blinking, your eyes search for him, meeting the stoic faceplate turned to you. Silence lingers as you both stare at each other, considering every single thought that coursed through your minds during the late couple of hours. Was it genuine? Absolutely. Would you voice them? No, surely not. Tension is still there, so palpable you could touch it, and shattering it would come with a price. 

A small blush color your cheeks red, and you finally manage to break eye contact with a hint of timidity. Too much to ask of you for a little time of strong, contrasting emotions, still tickling under your skin as the adrenaline begins to sparse. Clearing your throat, you’re the first to speak. “I apologize,” it begins as simple as it, almost ending the sentence there as your eyes don’t dare to move from your lap and you choose carefully what to say, and what to keep to yourself. Ramattra may have performed a solid progress towards emotions, but you feared he would fail to comprehend the turmoil in yours. “It wasn’t strict of your concern, nor a matter you should care for as you did, and I-”

“I had to,” he cut you off, sternly. Now that you’re safe, his worries tend to other subjects, still resonating over you. Was he too obvious, despite his best efforts? Couldn’t be, and yet he wished fervently for you to point it out, verbalizing what he was too afraid to: he wanted to keep you close, and safe, more than he ever did. “Whatever happens to you is my business, especially if it's a menace to your well being,” Ramattra takes a step closer, his fingers aching to reach for your face, and soothe that sorry expression out of it. Instead, he keeps them to his sides, clenching them a fist. “So don’t apologize for it. It wasn’t your fault, in the first place, and yet I’ll ask you to be careful and not wander over the training field whenever a new IA is being tested.”

A short nod follows a faint smile. His words were gentle, not explicitly voicing what he meant in between the lines, but you knew it nonetheless. Ramattra cared for you, more than you could have thought, and enough to satisfy your heart. “I don’t even know how to begin thanking you.”

“Dressing will do,” a chuckle reverberated in his metallic rib cage, and if his words alone wouldn’t catch you yet, it would be enough to make your face red as a cherry for, somehow, you were able to sense a trace of malice in Ramattra. “Rest now, human. I shall meet you when the day is done.”

[whencyclopedia]

D-Day was 80 years ago today!

D-Day was the first day of Operation Overlord, the Allied attack on German-occupied Western Europe, which began on the beaches of Normandy, France, on 6 June 1944. Primarily US, British, and Canadian troops, with naval and air support, attacked five beaches, landing some 135,000 men in a day widely considered to have changed history.

Where to Attack?

Operation Overlord, which sought to attack occupied Europe starting with an amphibious landing in northwest France, Belgium, or the Netherlands, had been in the planning since January 1943 when Allied leaders agreed to the build-up of British and US troops in Britain. The Allies were unsure where exactly to land, but the requirements were simple: as short a sea crossing as possible and within range of Allied fighter cover. A third requirement was to have a major port nearby, which could be captured and used to land further troops and equipment. The best fit seemed to be Normandy with its flat beaches and port of Cherbourg.

The Atlantic Wall

The leader of Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler (1889-1945), called his western line of defences the Atlantic Wall. It had gaps but presented an impressive string of fortifications along the coast from Spain to the Netherlands. Construction of gun batteries, bunker networks, and observation posts began as early as 1942.

Many of the German divisions were not crack troops but inexperienced soldiers, who were spending more time building defences than in vital military training. There was a woeful lack of materials for Hitler's dream of the Atlantic Wall, really something of a Swiss cheese, with some strong areas, but many holes. The German army was not provided with sufficient mines, explosives, concrete, or labourers to better protect the coastline. At least one-third of gun positions still had no casement protection. Many installations were not bomb-proof. Another serious weakness was naval and air support. The navy had a mere 4 destroyers available and 39 E-boats while the Luftwaffe's (German Air Force's) contribution was equally paltry with only 319 planes operating in the skies when the invasion took place (rising to 1,000) in the second week.

Neptune to Normandy

Preparation for Overlord occurred right through April and May of 1940 when the Royal Air Force (RAF) and United States Air Force (USAAF) relentlessly bombed communications and transportation systems in France as well as coastal defences, airfields, industrial targets, and military installations. In total, over 200,000 missions were conducted to weaken as much as possible the Nazi defences ready for the infantry troops about to be involved in the largest troop movement in history. The French Resistance also played their part in preparing the way by blowing up train lines and communication systems that would ensure the defenders could not effectively respond to the invasion.

The Allied fleet of 7,000 vessels of all kinds departed from English south-coast ports such as Falmouth, Plymouth, Poole, Portsmouth, Newhaven, and Harwich. In an operation code-named Neptune, the ships gathered off Portsmouth in a zone called 'Piccadilly Circus' after the busy London road junction, and then made their way to Normandy and the assault areas. At the same time, gliders and planes flew to the Cherbourg peninsula in the west and Ouistreham on the eastern edge of the planned landing. Paratroopers of the 82nd and 101st US Airborne Division attacked in the west to try and cut off Cherbourg. At the eastern extremity of the operation, paratroopers of the 6th British Airborne Division aimed to secure Pegasus Bridge over the Caen Canal. Other tasks of the paratrooper and glider units were to destroy bridges to impede the enemy, hold others necessary for the invasion to progress, destroy gun emplacements, secure the beach exits, and protect the invasion's flanks.

The Beaches

The amphibious attack was set for dawn on 5 June, daylight being a requirement for the necessary air and naval support. Bad weather led to a postponement of 24 hours. Shortly after midnight, the first waves of 23,000 British and American paratroopers landed in France. US paratroopers who dropped near Ste-Mère-Église ensured this was the first French town to be liberated. From 3.00 a.m., air and naval bombardment of the Normandy coast began, letting up just 15 minutes before the first infantry troops landed on the beaches at 6.30 a.m.

The beaches selected for the landings were divided into zones, each given a code name. US troops attacked two, the British army another two, and the Canadian force the fifth. These beaches and the troops assigned to them were (west to east):

Utah Beach - 4th US Infantry Division, 7th US Corps (1st US Army commanded by Lieutenant General Omar N. Bradley)

Omaha Beach - 1st US Infantry Division, 5th US Corps (1st US Army)

Gold Beach - 50th British Infantry Division, 30th British Corps (2nd British Army commanded by Lieutenant-General Miles C. Dempsey)

Juno Beach - 3rd Canadian Infantry Division (2nd British Army)

Sword Beach - 3rd British Infantry Division, 1st British Corps (2nd British Army)

In addition, the 2nd US Rangers were to attack the well-defended Pointe du Hoc between Utah and Omaha (although it turned out the guns had never been installed there), while Royal Marine Commando units attacked targets on Gold, Juno, and Sword.

The RAF and USAAF continued to protect the invasion fleet and ensure any enemy ground-based counterattack faced air attack. As the Allies could put in the air 12,000 aircraft at this stage, the Luftwaffe's aerial fightback was pitifully inadequate. On D-Day alone, the Allied air forces flew 15,000 sorties compared to the Luftwaffe's 100. Not one single Allied aircraft was lost to enemy fire on D-Day.

Packing Normandy

By the end of D-Day, 135,000 men had been landed and relatively few casualties were sustained – some 5,000 men. There were some serious cock-ups, notably the hopeless dispersal of the paratroopers (only 4% of the US 101st Air Division were dropped at the intended target zone), but, if anything, this caused even more confusion amongst the German commanders on the ground as it seemed the Allies were attacking everywhere. The defenders, overcoming the initial handicap that many area commanders were at a strategy conference in Rennes, did eventually organise themselves into a counterattack, deploying their reserves and pulling in troops from other parts of France. This is when French resistance and aerial bombing became crucial, seriously hampering the German army's effort to reinforce the coastal areas of Normandy. The German field commanders wanted to withdraw, regroup and attack in force, but, on 11 June, Hitler ordered there be no retreat.

All of the original invasion beaches were linked as the Allies pushed inland. To aid thousands more troops following up the initial attack, two artificial floating harbours were built. Code-named Mulberries, these were located off Omaha and Gold beaches and were built from 200 prefabricated units. A storm hit on 20 June, destroying the Mulberry Harbour off Omaha, but the one at Gold was still serviceable, allowing some 11,000 tons of material to be landed every 24 hours. The other problem for the Allies was how to supply thousands of vehicles with the fuel they needed. The short-term solution, code-named Tombola, was to have tanker ships pump fuel to storage tanks on shore, using buoyed pipelines. The longer-term solution was code-named Pluto (Pipeline Under the Ocean), a pipeline under the Channel to Cherbourg through which fuel could be pumped. Cherbourg was taken on 27 June and was used to ship in more troops and supplies, although the defenders had sunk ships to block the harbour and these took some six weeks to fully clear.

Operation Neptune officially ended on 30 June. Around 850,000 men, 148,800 vehicles, and 570,000 tons of stores and equipment had been landed since D-Day. The next phase of Overlord was to push the occupiers out of Normandy. The defenders were not only having logistical problems but also command issues as Hitler replaced Rundstedt with Field Marshal Günther von Kluge (1882-1944) and formally warned Rommel not to be defeatist.

Aftermath: The Normandy Campaign

By early July, the Allies, having not got further south than around 20 miles (32 km) from the coast, were behind schedule. Poor weather was limiting the role of aircraft in the advance. The German forces were using the countryside well to slow the Allied advance – countless small fields enclosed with trees and hedgerows which limited visibility and made tanks vulnerable to ambush. Caen was staunchly defended and required Allied bombers to obliterate the city on 7 July. The German troops withdrew but still held one-half of the city. The Allies lost around 500 tanks trying to take Caen, vital to any push further south. The advance to Avranches was equally tortuous, and 40,000 men were lost in two weeks of heavy fighting. By the end of July, the Allies had taken Caen, Avranches, and the vital bridge at Pontaubault. From 1 August, Patton and the US Third Army were punching south at the western side of the offensive, and the Brittany ports of St. Malo, Brest, and Lorient were taken.

German forces counterattacked to try and retake Avranches, but Allied air power was decisive. Through August 1940, the Allies swept southwards to the Loire River from St. Nazaire to Orléans. On 15 August, a major landing took place on the southwest coast of France (French Riviera landings) and Marseille was captured on 28 August. In northern France, the Allies captured enough territory, ports, and airfields for a massive increase in material support. On 25 August, Paris was liberated. By mid-September, the Allied troops in the north and south of France had linked up and the campaign front expanded eastwards pushing on to the borders of Germany. There would be setbacks like Operation Market Garden of September and a brief fightback at the Battle of the Bulge in December 1944, but the direction of the war and ultimate Allied victory was now a question of not if but when.

[enbysiriusblack]

as a british teen, i think the marauders should bullshit their way into not paying for the train to school. like that is such a vital, universal thing for us. it's how we learn to lie and tell stories and find creative solutions around the system and saving money.

peter's go-to story is that in the muggle world the trains are free so he didn't know you had to pay here (he's relying on wizards not knowing anything about muggles. it always works)

james' go-to story is that his dog ate his ticket (same go-to story for his homework) sirius laughs very loudly everytime. it never works.

remus' go-to story is to empty his pockets and show he's only got pennies and can't afford the ticket to school (which is true tbf), and with his hand-me-down, raggedy clothes. it almost always works (sometimes the ticket inspector recognises james and sirius and gets them to pay for their friend)

sirius' go-to story is that he ate his own ticket. he gets a 'you trying to be funny, kid?' and then changes his story to that a group of slytherins stole his ticket (after commenting that he's "sirius"). it never works.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Human Body

A Quick & Simplified Guide: Blood

What does the Blood do?

Carries oxygen to our cells

Transports hormones (messenger molecules in the body) & other vital chemicals

Carries away waste

Transports immune system agents that track down and kill dangerous invaders

Makes sure oxygen gets to the parts of the body that need it most (such as your leg muscles while you’re running)

Helps to regulate your body temperature, so you don’t get too cold or too hot

Haemoglobin

A hero protein with a dark desire for something extremely dangerous: carbon monoxide.

If carbon monoxide is around, haemoglobin will pack it in, like passengers jammed together on a rush-hour train, while leaving the oxygen standing on the platform.

This is why carbon monoxide kills people – because they don’t get enough oxygen travelling around their body.

4 Components of Blood

Red blood cells

44% of your blood

One teaspoon of human blood contains about 25 billion red blood cells.

They all have one job: to deliver oxygen.

They ship it around the body using haemoglobin.

Each red blood cell lives for about four months.

In that time, it will be shot around your body about 150,000 times, logging about 100 miles of travel before it’s too battered to go on.

Mostly because of 100 billion dead red blood cells that you have to get rid of every day, feces is brown.

White blood cells

Less than 1% of your blood

These cells are a vital part of your immune system.

They are critical for fighting off infections.

Platelets

Less than 1% of your blood

One of the main jobs of platelets is to manage blood clotting.

Let’s say you accidentally graze your elbow on a wall. You might think: Ouch, but it’s not so bad. Your platelets will not be so relaxed. Millions will instantly cluster round the wound (well, scratch). At the same time, a protein in your blood will transform into a tougher protein called fibrin. The platelets and the fibrin get together to form a plug, which seals up the wound and becomes a scab. This (a) stops you leaking, and (b) is virtually impossible not to pick (but do try not to).

Plasma

A bit over 50% of your blood

Plasma is 90% water, but it also contains some vital things, including proteins that help blood to clot.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References Blood ⚜ Blood Alcohol Level ⚜ Exsanguination ⚜ Injuries ⚜ Wounds

[vodika-vibes]

Wait holy shit, anon from 2 seconds ago, hi!, I suddenly had another alpha-17 thought, imagine comforting him after his capture by Ventress and again a few weeks later after being wounded by Grievous. He puts up an impenetrable front but behind it he’s in pain and filled with self doubt and you remind him that it’s all worth it, he’s worth it in the end.

As You Are

Summary: After being tortured by Ventress, and then badly wounded by Grievous, Alpha-17 is confined to a bed under your care. Badly injured and convinced that he’s about to be Decommissioned for being unable to continue his duties, he’s lashing out at everyone trying to help him. Luckily, you’ve never been a shrinking violet.

Pairing: Pre Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 775

Warnings: Medical stuff, but not detailed

A/N: I'm still not sure if this was a request, but I turned it into one because it's Alpha, lol.

Click HERE to be added to my Taglist

“Doctor,” You pause, your hand hovering over the door panel to Alpha-17’s hospital room when you’re stopped by one of your nurses. She’s an older woman, much older than you, and she seems to be fretting over something.

“Something wrong?” You ask.

“It’s…well,” She motions to the door you’re about to pass through, “He’s in a foul mood.”

You arch a single brow, “Well, yes. I would be too if I had been tortured, and then badly wounded. How are his cybernetics?”

“I…well, I’m not sure. He wouldn’t let me check.”

Your other brow raises to join the first, “He wouldn’t let you.”

“No, Doctor. When I tried he snapped at me.”

“So he’s probably in pain then.”

She shrugs, “Perhaps we should leave him to the Kaminoans?”

You shoot her a look dirty enough that she flinches away from you, “Thank you, Nurse. I can take it from here.”

“Uh…Yes, doctor.” You wait until she hurries away before you type in the door code and enter the room. 

“I hear you’re terrorizing my nurses.” You announce as the door slides shut behind you, “Knock it off.”

“I don’t want your medical care.” Alpha bites out, pinning you with a fierce glare.

“Tough shit, you’re getting it anyway.” You walk over to him, and glance at the monitors to check his vitals, “How’s your pain?”

“Awful.”

“I need a number, Alpha.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Thanks, it was covered in medical school between cardiology and pulmonology.”

He shifts in the bed and winces, and you frown at him, “I’m fine.”

“Alpha, you currently have cybernetics running the length of your spine that will allow you to walk. You’re not fine.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s going to hate it, but also knowing that he won’t lash out at you. “Let me take care of you.”

“Why bother?” He grouses, “They’re just going to decommission me.”

You sigh heavily. “They are not.”

He scowls at you, “I’ve known the longnecks my whole life—”

You hold up three fingers, “Point 1, Shaak Ti has forbidden decommissions. Point 2, even if she didn’t, the Kaminoans don’t decommission Alpha class clones. Point 3, even if you ignore those two points, they never would have allowed me to put a multi-million credit cybernetic system in you if they were going to decommission you.”

“...how many credits?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not paying for it.” You lightly tap his shoulder, “Anyway, will you let me take a look now?”

“I’m fine.” He repeats.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

A muscle in his jaw clenches, “What if I can’t do my job properly even with the cybernetics?”

“You will. As I understand it, Shaak Ti wants you training ARC Troopers.”

He scoffs, “So I can’t fight anymore.”

“Training the ARCs is an important job, Alpha.” You remind him, “They are the best, after all.” You step around the bed so you’re able to get a look at the cybernetics implanted in his spine.

“It’s not the same.”

“It is important though.” You lightly touch his skin and frown when you see the skin is inflamed. Quickly you put in an order for more antibiotics, and then you scan the cybernetics themselves, “Do you think lesser of Commander Colt for being an ARC trainer?”

He scoffs but doesn’t answer.

You walk back around him so that he’s facing you, “You just have to remember, this is all worth it in the end. It has to be.”

Alpha scans your face for a moment, “No one is going to thank you for this, you know that right?”

“I don’t do this for the accolades, Alpha. I do it because it’s the right thing to do.” You flash a wry smile, “Before all else, do no harm.”

Alpha sighs and sinks his head into his pillow, “I’m not worth all this.”

“You are to me.” You reach out and take his fingers in your hand and you squeeze them gently, “Will you let me help you?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he squeezes your hand, “Yeah, I guess. Just you, though.”

“Spoiled.” You chide, “But fine, I’ll make a note that you refuse all medical care unless I’m the one giving it.” You untangle your hand from his and make a note in his chart, “Now. Are you in any pain?”

“Yeah, and my back feels hot.” He admits.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You turn your back to grab some pain medicine.

“I love you.” He mumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said you’re annoying.”

You laugh softly, and favor him with a warm smile, “So are you.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar @trixie2023 @kimiheartblade @padawancat97

@falconfeather23435 @etod @bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay @liz-stat @cc--2224

[libby-for-life]

Just something me and @breedtheseed wrote on Discord. Even have some art done by them as well! Smut. Lots of smut. Enjoy.

Lucifer x Adam x Lilith

Heaven, a government-paid underground lab, decided to make a genetically perfect human for espionage and assassination. If they were successful, then they would create a female. Or even better. A man that could do it all.

So Project Eden began. Experiment 1-A, or Adam, was grown from a small clump of cells. They experimented on that fetus until it could have both fully functional female and male parts. They messed around with the DNA to see what yielded the best results.

He grew in a test tube until he was a fully grown adult, 21 years of age. At this point, he was a 7-foot-tall slim man with both a reproductive system and a way to reproduce.

They trained him. Hard. Adam gained muscles, strength, and intelligence, and was able to adapt to any situation they threw at him. Adam knew how to seduce both men and women for information and how to kill a human in over a thousand different ways. They created him with hyperthymestic, perfect memory. They labeled him the perfect human. The only thing they needed to do was to test him in a human environment. He needed more human contact other than just the scientists who conversed with him.

He was too old for high school. But college was right up his alley. They decided to enroll him and see how he reacted to humans his age.

They prepared Adam the best they could.

Adam barely talked, he liked to think before he said anything, but this left him silent. He had read about college of course. To Adam, that was an otherworldly experience he wouldn't know about. To think he was going to the Hazbin College, not the most creative name, to learn stuff he already knew.

When they explained to him he needed to know how to converse with others his age more smoothly, Adam reluctantly agreed that it was vital for his purpose.

They wanted him to blend in but excel in his studies. They also wanted to see how well he could adapt without any prior knowledge of what was trendy or considered normal. Sometimes, you wouldn't get the privilege of knowing everything before and you would need to wing it.

This was Adam's chance to prove he could.

The first time Adam felt the sun on his face was enough to make him smile. He read about the sun. He had just never seen it.

He was given an apartment with everything he could ever need, school supplies, and groceries delivered to him every week.

Adam knew how to cook just fine so he wasn't worried.

He made sure he picked something that would interesting but not something off-putting and weird.

He decided to major in Biology.

His first day came faster than Adam was prepared for. He was still adjusting to the overwhelming pressure of being outside and even more now that should he try to do anything Heaven wouldn't like it was game over for Adam.

They implanted a chip in him when he was asleep. Adam didn't know where but they would know where he was 24/7. If he ever defected...tried to run away, then he wouldn't be having a head anymore.

Adam walked into the building he would be studying in for the next 2 years. He had already seen the maps so he knew where he was going.

Only, there seemed to be two people struggling. Two...very beautiful people. Adam likened them to works of art. They seemed lost. Perhaps this was his first test? How would he do in a situation like this?

He approached the two people, a female and male, and quietly asked. "Do you need some help?" They both turned and looked up, Adam was pretty tall, and smiled. "Sure! Do you know where room 3-E is? This place is a maze," the shorter male said. He looked about 5'9. Blonde coifed hair, crystal blue eyes, and a smirk that made Adam blush a bit.

The woman had long blonde hair and eyes that shimmered like violets. Her natural smirk made him shiver too.

"Yeah, I know the way." They end up following him.

Adam was quick to understand that they were already very popular and everyone loved them. They had already been to college last year and they were coming again for their second.

They threw the best parties and knew the best people. Everyone wanted to be them or have sex with them. Adam knew they were physically attractive but no one knew them on a personal level. Didn't you need a connection to be in a relationship? Or was he thinking about healthy relationships?

Adam shrugged to himself as he saw the two of them surrounded by people and laughing at some of their poorly made jokes.

Why were they laughing at that? Adam didn't understand it. Unless this was their way of blending in with the crowd.

Adam though keeping an eye on then would be useful. They could effortlessly fit into crowds and compel people to tell them things. He couldn't place why but he felt he had to know more about them.

He wasn't prepared for them to come to *him*. He was just eating lunch outside campus when he felt a strong arm hug his waist. Startled he looked down and saw Lucifer grinning up at him.

"Hi!"

Another grabbed his arm and Adam turned to see Lilith holding it.

"What are you doing out here?" He wasn't used to being touched. He didn't know what they were doing. It did feel...nice. He didn't know how to explain it any other way.

Back at Heaven people would ask him odd questions all the time. He gestured to his lunch and told them he was eating.

"Looks tasty," Lucifer said. It was okay. "We wanted to invite you to a party!" A party? Adam had never been to one. Oh, sure. He trained on what he was supposed to do in that kind of situation but had never experienced something so normal.

"Do you want to go?" Lilith asked, biting her lip a bit.

Did he? It would be a good experience and he would have another normal thing to write I'm his report to Heaven.

"Sure." They looked so happy that he accepted their invitation. "Here. Let me just write the address." Lilith took his hand and Adam watched fascinated as she wrote on his hand with a pen.

"There. It's tonight!"

The way Lucifer wrapped his arm around Adam gave him a much closer look at the shorter man's face. Adam could feel like he'd seen him before he was sent to the college or at least someone with a very similar face.

Adam shrugged it off. Adam remembered everything, so if he couldn't place Lucifer's face then he hadn't seen it.

Lucifer was holding the party at his place. It was large expensive house owned by his older brother who raised him since their parents died. Since his older brother was always away at his government job Lucifer started thinking of it as his place.

Adam did some research on what time was acceptable to arrive at a party. There was apparently something called being fashionably late.

He came when the party was in full swing.

"Adam!" Lucifer greeted with a bottle of alcohol in one hand.

Drinking that stuff lowered your body's rate to function properly.

Adam would *not* be drinking tonight. He brought a sealed plastic water bottle that he would pour into a red solo cup or something and pretend he was drinking.

Adam allowed himself to be dragged to a sofa where Lucifer sat him down. He was about to ask why when Lucifer plopped right on his lap. Adam froze, not expecting that of Lucifer. Lucifer smirked up at him and winked. Oh. Either Lucifer was the teasing type or he was flirting.

Adam didn’t know where the action was going to go, he didn’t want to ask just in case Lucifer would leave him. He didn’t dislike the action he was just rather confused about why it was happening

But when Lilith sat beside and slid a hand to his neck and gently squeezed....oh. Ooooohhhhh. That felt good.

Lilith smiled as she gently rubbed his neck and played with his hair. Adam melted I to the touch.

The scientists at Heaven never showed affection like this. He loved it.

No one was paying attention to them as Lucifer's hands found their way to his chest and massaged gently. Adam's eyes snapped open as a whimper left his mouth.

A goddamn whimper. He...he hadn't done that since Heaven tested his durability. But that was a whimper of pain. This...this felt good.

"Damn...I knew you had muscles but damn..." Lucifer muttered.

"Doesn't he look pretty? Such a pretty boy." Lilith murmured in his ear making him whine. Was...was this going too fast? It...he didn't know what to do.

When he felt buttons pop open from his shirt and stifled a moan when Lucifer's fingers found their way to his nipples. They pinched.

Adam did moan. It was quiet and breathy.

Adam heard Lucifer say, "Let's take this to a bedroom." He was guided away from the couch. Strong hands. Hands that squeezed and felt good.

Adam wasn't quite sure what they were doing, but he was good at following instructions. When he was gently pushed into a bed, he understood. They wanted sex. They taught him the basics at Heaven but he was a virgin.

Lucifer licked his neck while Lilith settled behind him.

"I just knew how innocent you'd be when I saw you." Lilith whispered huskily in his ear making Adam bite his lip. He was far from innocent in most things, but experiencing was different.

Lucifer chuckled and helped him out of his shirt. "Damn, you look perfect. You must have worked hard for these abs." He did. He worked for years through blood, sweat, and tears to get this body the way it was. But to hear it be appreciated by someone who wasn't for Heaven, made Adam blush and moan.

It sounded needy to his own ears. "Aw, he has a praise kink." Lilith cooed.

Praise kink? Adam blushed and squirmed a bit against their soft touches, Lucifer’s hands had returned to his chest.

“They’re so soft when you aren’t flexing,” Lucifer hummed as his fingers traced the man’s nipples once more.

"I wonder if I just—" A loud moan tumbled out as Lucifer pinched his nipples and twisted them. He felt his hips leave the bed, chasing something....something he didn't know, but his body was reacting to Lucifer's touch like fire to gasoline.

Lucifer blinked before smirking. Lilith chuckled into his neck.

“So sensitive,” Lilith hummed as she kissed Adams neck, Adam shivered and his hips made a small jerk. Adams lip trembled this was so different than what he trained for, he knew this could happen but it felt so different than what he imagined.

It felt good.

They pinched, caressed, and pulled on sensitive flesh. Adam was a moaning mess when he felt a warm mouth suck on his nipple.

"Let's see what other treasures you might have?" And Lilith slipped a hand into his pants and rubbed his ass.

By this point, he was pitching quite the tent and his vagina was pulsing and feeling so wet.

Lilith smirked as her fingers brushed over the ring of muscles, she had to do a small double take when her fingers dipped into Adams soaked pussy, the mans hips instinctively arched into her fingers.

Her eyes grew wide at the realization as she traced her fingers around Adams ass hole and pussy the small taint separating the two.

A squeak left Adam’s lips as he flet fingers brush his very sensitive vagina.

"Oh my god....do you have a pussy?" She asked shocked and very turned on by this.

Lucifer's head whipped up, surprised etching his features and it didn't take long for him to slip Adam’s pants off along with his underwear.

There, right below a proudly standing dick, was a drooling pussy. H-holy shit. He had heard of them. Hermaphrodites. Incredibly rare. And so very arousing...

Lucifer smirked up at Adam who was red-cheeked and breathing very heavily.

Lucifer’s mouth watered and he licked his lips as he gave Lilith a look, Lilith met the look with a knowing smirk as she pulled Adams's face to hers capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Adam moaned

Adam had never been kissed before. This was so new and he was all to happy to let Lilith take the lead.

However, the kiss broke when Adam gasped and looked back to see Lucifer between his legs, when did Lucifer do that? Adam was barely able to soak in the view when Lilith pulled him back into the kiss and ravished his mouth, while curious fingers spread his weeping pussy.

Adam moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Fingers pushed gently, exploring new territory.

"I can't believe you have a pussy." Lucifer said. Pussy? Was...was that what people called vaginas? Why call it after a cat?

He lost his train of thought when Lilith forced her tongue inside his mouth, tasting everything.

They broke for air when Lucifer pushed more in.

"God, you look beautiful like this, your pussy spreading for me so easily."

"P-pussy? Do you mean vagina?" This causes them both to laugh leaving Adam feeling very embarrassed.

They chuckled and gave gentle kisses “so innocent,” Lucifer hummed as he scissored his fingers making Adam moan. “Would you prefer I call it your vagina or cunt?” Adam didn’t answer he felt embarrassed somehow.

“Aww it’s ok Adam don’t be shy,” Lilith glided his face back to hers “We just think it’s cute that’s all,” she kissed his lips but it was softer. Adam whined, he was cute?

He had never been called cute before. Deadly. Annoying. Perfect specimen. But never cute.

"Y-you think it's cute? I know it's not...normal." And that was the kicker, wasn't it? He would never be normal. Not really. He was essentially a test tube baby. He would never understand people simply because he wasn't made for it.

Lucifer and Lilith frowned as they looked at Adam, he was so red in the face he looked so beautiful.

Who the fuck would say he wasn’t normal?

“Adam you are so beautiful,” Lucifer said as he trailed kisses up Adams body, his hands rubbing circles on Adams hips.

“He’s right Adam you’re so perfect,” Lilith whispered as she peppered his neck with kisses, Adam moaned against the touches.

Adam squealed hard when he felt a mouth directly kiss his...pussy? Cunt? He didn't know what to call it anymore more but those soft kisses were driving his sensitive p-pussy wild.

Lilith chuckled and held him down with two hands while Lucifer smirked up at him.

"Have you ever been ate out before?"

Adam frowned, was he wanting to eat him? He shook his head. And Lucifer smiled as he swiped his tongue against Adam's folds, Adams's hips stuttered at the feeling he wanted more. Lilith smiled and kissed his cheek, “it’s going to feel really good,” she whispered.

Adam's legs wanted to close, but the feeling was too strong. But Lucifer’s hands kept Adams's shaky legs open

Lilith bit and sucked his neck, loving the little noises he made while the Lucifer's skillful tongue worked its magic.

Adam whimpered and whined. To Lucifer and Lilith, it was so hot to reduce someone as strong and capable looking as Adam was to a whimpering and moaning mess.

And to find out that Adam had a pussy and a dick? God, he truly was the best of both worlds.

Lucifer couldn’t get enough he wanted to be deep inside of Adam, he rolled his hips into the bed for some friction against his aching cock.

Lilith bit her lip, she wanted to see how much Adam could take. Maybe she could bring out her strap when Lucifer was done with him, or maybe she would teach Adam how to eat a woman out. She smirked at the idea as her hands found Adams soft muscular pecs. She hadn’t expected them to be soft as he played with them, watching how Adams hips tried to ride Lucifer’s face.

It was cute.

"Aw, are we getting desperate?" Lilith whispered with another kiss. Adam whimpered out the words, "I, ah! I need more!" Adam yelped when he felt *teeth* down there.

"What do you want Adam?"

"I-I don't know!" Adam cried desperately. "I just want more!" Lucifer snickered and sucked on his clit, knowing that it would drive Adam crazy and it did. Tears looked beautiful on Adam.

And Adam was so vocal, his moans were very much like music to the two ears. As Lucifer sucked the cute bud his fingers began to trace Adam's entrance as they dipped inside and began to thrust. Adam's eyes flew open and he gripped Lilith, his grip weak as his body grew hotter.

“That’s it Adam doesn’t it feel good,” Lilith said with a soft voice against his ear.

“Hot,” Adam whimpered into Lilith's neck as he got closer to climax.

He had read about it but never experienced it. Would this be his first orgasm?

Lucifer hummed, going a bit faster.

Lilith gently rubbed and pinched his sensitive chest while she licked his lips. "Cum for me Adam."

Adam did with a scream. He breathed heavily. As the two go out of bed. Was-was that sex? Were they done?

He gulped when he saw them strip. He forgot he was the only one naked. Both sported lithe muscles and by all accounts, he was the bigger and more muscled of the two, and yet he didn't mind them being in charge. Lilith and Lucifer smirked as they...stripped teased. Yes. He was taught this. If he needed to seduce someone, he would tease them provocatively and distract them.

But Lilith and Lucifer did so effortlessly. Soon, Lucifer was only in his boxers and Lilith in a lingerie set of purple.

"Adam, " Lucifer purred. "Will you help us strip?"

Adam got up on shaky legs, when he approached them Adam easily took off the woman’s bra to which Lucifer chuckled and showed Adam how to go slow. Adam followed Lucifer’s lead, slowly stripping Lilith of her lingerie.

“That’s it Adam, just a good boy,” Lucifer hummed.

Adam moaned at the praise. "Why don't we reward you?" Lilith climbed back into bed while Lucifer guided him until he was face-first into Lilith's breasts. They were, well, huge and Adam never realized how soft they would be.

Lilith chuckled and pressed his face closer, loving to see his embarrassed and flushed face in her bosom.

Lucifer bite his lip as he saw Adam's dick already hardening and pussy dripping again.

Adam moaned again when he felt Lucifer’s hands against his ass, feeling his pussy spreading the cool air against the heated flesh made him shiver.

"I can't wait to deflower you, baby boy," Lucifer growled as he sunk the tip in. Adam yelped and squirmed but Lilith held him in her surprisingly strong grip.

"That's it, baby. Doing so good. You're the best baby boy in the world."

There it was again. Baby boy. Why were they calling him that?

"Baby boy?" He moaned out while Lilith cooed at his fucked out face. Lucifer was going slow to give Adam some time to adjust to his enormous girth and size. She knew exactly how big Lucifer was and only someone who had experience could take him going wild animal on them.

Adam deserved it nice and slow. At least at first.

Lilith chuckled at his question. "Cute nickname, right?" Then she smirked mischievously. "Unless you prefer baby girl?"

Adam whimpered, he wasn’t a baby, he moaned when a particular thrust pushed him further into Lilith. It felt so big inside him, he whimpered and his training kicked in. He arched into the thrusts, and hugged Lilith for some kind of grounding as Lucifer rolled his hips into Adams sweet heat.

Lucifer’s view was amazing seeing how Adam’s pussy took him so well, he bit his lip looking at the tight ring of muscles above the entrance.

He wondered if Adam had a prostate. He’d have to do that another time.

Lilith was definitely going to be eaten out tonight. They found a treasure trove. A man with no hang-ups about sexuality or was judgemental about having a threesome. In fact, the only reason they were interested at first was because Adam looked and acted different from everyone else. He was an empty canvas and Lilith and Lucifer were going to be the artists. Plus, it helped that Adam was adorable. Who knew a seven-foot giant with muscles for days would be this subby in bed? He was the perfect sub.

Lucifer groaned when he finally bottomed out.

Adam whimpered against Liliths breasts, “Adam baby,” her soft voice called to him. “Will you make me feel good too~” Adam whimpered as the shifted putting Adams face right against Liliths soaked cunt, Adams mouth watered as he looked up at her for instructions.

“Go on Adam, give it a try,” Lucifer said from behind him. Adam hesitantly swiped his tongue against Lilith's soft folds making his insides clench around Lucifer’s cock.

"That's it. Why don't you go a bit deeper?" Lilith suggested with pink cheeks. Adam moved a bit closer and dragged his tongue across Lilith's pussy. She moaned and gripped his hair tightly, causing him to moan. He licked and sucked at her entrance, trying to bring up the diagram he was shown of the female anatomy. Hmm...there should be something called the clitoris somewhere...lick. "Ah! Yes! Right there!" Lilith screamed as Lucifer began moving again.

Adam tried desperately to make her feel good, he liked the way her moans made his insides twitch around Lucifer’s cock.

He sucked and licked trying to mimic what Lucifer did as much as possible, he moaned loud against her folds as Lucifer's thrusts began to grow faster.

Adam shoved his face deeper as Lucifer and Lilith moaned, reaching their own climax. Lilith gripped Adam's dick and rubbed it, causing him to squeal in overstimulation.

She bit her lip as he began crying again, giving her pussy little kitten licks.

Lucifer continued to roll his hips into Adam making sure to milk every last bit into the man as Adam reach overstimulated territory.

“So perfect,” Lucifer whispered as he ran a hand down Adams back.

“He really is,” Lilith agreed as she helped Adam cum, Lucifer bit his lip feeling how Adam's thrusts pushed Lucifer’s cock deeper into him.

Adam screamed the loudest when he came. Dick squirted cum onto Lilith's and his stomach while his pussy spasmed. He got a mouthful of Lilith's juice and he was quick to swallow it all.

"Baby girl is so good for us," Lilith said to Lucifer as they watched him whimper on her thigh, face covered in her orgasm.

"Aw, he's so cute like this. All fucked out and drooling." Lucifer pulled out gently and kissed Adam's back.

Adams legs gave out and his brain was fogged, was that sex were they going to leave him like this? Adam shivered when Lucifer fingered him cum back into Adams pussy.

“Such a good boy you are Adam,” Lucifer said as he helped Adam get more comfortable on the bed.

“Won’t you stay our baby girl Adam~” Lilith hummed as she and Lucifer looked down at his tired state.

"Mmmm....yesh." He slurred. He felt so protected right now and relaxed. He snuggled up and lied down on Lilith's plush breasts, yawning tiredly.

"Aw, so tired." Lucifer cooed as Adam fell asleep.

Everyone had trickled out, it was 2 am, and that meant they were alone. He came back and stripped out of his clothes before climbing into bed. He snuggled up to his girlfriend and possibly boyfriend.

"God, he's perfect. I can't believe we found him."

“Me too,” Lilith matched his excitement as they looked at their secret treasure. He was so perfect.

“We should clean him,” Lucifer said as he was about to get up.

“Nah I think he’s fine plus look how tired he is, we wouldn’t want to ruin his sleep,” Lucifer couldn’t disagree with her on that one. “Plus I read that hermaphrodites are mostly infertile,” she finished as she snuggled up to Adam, Lucifer shrugged and joined her.

Adam woke up to the sound of humming. He whimpered, God he was so *sore,* but still had his eyes closed. He was on something soft and warm. It felt like there were two warm...bodies next to him.

Opening his eyes, he noticed that Lilith and Lucifer were both asleep on top of him. They snuggled close to him, eager to soak in his warmth. He blushed when he realized they were all naked. It turned out the humming was just Lilith sleep-talking.

Adam blushed at them holding onto him. Especially since he was feeling his morning wood pop up along with Lucifer's which was poking his thigh.

He needed to get some water. He could tell he was dehydrated.

If you all liked this, there will be a part 2! Love you guys!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Cute Spider Society Headcanons:

[a long post of random headcanons about the fun stuff at Spider Society HQ - all cool things for your Spidersona to do]

There's absolutely regular talent shows and battles of the band every quarter or so.

Spider-people usually aren't the most popular back home on their Earth's, so Miguel permits having shows and activities like this so Spider-people can bond and relieve stress between Canon Events

Hobie has won multiple times - His and Gwen's band won last quarter, BUT they don't always win. MetroSpider is another past winner.

The rule is Spider-members only. But if your powers help your music, you can use them (ie, Hobie can play guitar without an amp-)

Training is a HUGE thing.

And it's mandatory even between missions. Time trails, Web strength testing, problem resolution training, weekly classes - It's a lot.

Your training schedule isn't always the same, and your classes are determined by your skill, specific powers, and universe

Money isn't used on campus. It's banned actually, and mostly useless when everyone is from a universe with a different exchange rate, political climate, tender etc.

Instead, The main currency is based on a points system connected to training/missions.

The more missions you do, or the more you train (therefore making you a better hero to your universe), the more points you earn

Things like the cafeteria and dorms are completely free. But points can be used to earn perks like suit upgrades, or things from the commissary

The Commissary is a store on campus where you can buy authorized items from other Earth's.

They have everything from training materials like mechanical webbing - with different properties/effects - to leisure things like cool video games from Margo's world or music from other time eras, vintage things from old universes, etc

Points can also be used for a number of other stuff such as:

Extra jumps on your watch. The more missions you do, the more jumps you can buy, allowing you to go to other universes on your off time (to hang with friends)

Suit Upgrades. Your suit is surveyed and upgraded for free at joining, and it gets upgraded with every class you gain (C Class -> B Class -> A Class -> etc.)

However, you can use points to upgrade or even just redesign your suit. There is a Suit Center where fashionable and genius Spider-people will help you design and adjust your suit based on your universe and villains

There's support groups, a lot centered around Canon Events.

For teens and young Spider-people there's an Educational Program

It can be done part-time with active mission work or full-time on campus

You train in multiversal research, Spider genetics, and other technology such as Doc Ock technology and Green Goblin biology

You can be offered a job on campus after completion - Margo is a graduate of this

If your participate in Educational Program, Lyla will be your mentor and you'll report to her

Educational students live in separate dorms, and the program is kinda intense, but VERY fun

There are different focuses in the program

Spider-Geneticists have a short residency after, they help take Spider vitals and oversee Training

You can also specialise in Spider-medicine - in which you work in the Infirmary

There are some CRAZY (secret) Parties all over the Spider-verse.

Disco-Spider loves a good party. Her and Pavi through insane ragers, a new one in a different universe everytime

Miguel has no idea

But partying on the walls and ceiling while Spider-people play super-human live shows in the world's craziest mosh-pit -

Spider-parties hit different.

It's one of the only time everyone is unmasked around each other

There's a really loose dress code

You DO NOT have to wear your suit 24/7. What is someone gonna do, rat you out in your universe?

Everyone is in their suit for ATSV cause Miguel asked them to be completely professional that day (as an intimidation tactic)

That's why Jess, Gwen, Peter, and Hobie are all fine showing their faces as soon as they get to campus.

If anything it's usually seen as weird to be wearing your mask all the time

Casual clothing is allowed. Skirts and dresses without anything underneath aren't allowed (you'll be upsidedown.)

You're expected to have two suits (one main, one spare - you get these at joining) for missions and a separate training outfit for your classes

There's super sports teams

Spidey Football (European not American) expands the rules to all four walls with a ball engineered to stick like Spidey-people do

Track & Swing Team - which Pavitr is a star member of

A small swim-and-dive team for the swimmers, and a small Roller Derby league for the skaters

Pavitr is also a star on the gymnastics team

There's also things like ballet groups, though Gwen doesn't take part

There's a REALLY GOOD Glee club. Spider-strength gives some crazy lung-capacity.

Disco is on the Glee club, and they take it very seriously

Living on campus doesn't threaten your home verse - you'll still be on call!

Lyla monitors all universes for anamolies - sending Anamoly Teams of 2-6

However if your universe experiences a non-anamoly, your watch will be pinged for a mandatory report, and you'll be sent to your universe to handle it

As such, your watch is like a doctor's pager. You can be called for anamolies or your universe at any time (If you're an active member in your universe, living on Society Campus, or have a contact negotiated for that. Class S members like Hobie can negotiate to be Selective Active members)

There's a little underground Spider-market

If you ask Hobie, he can definitely hack your watch for you.

If your Electro has been beating your ass, you can get your hands on electro-resistant webbing without spending points.

The Society has a small group of people willing to trade you for anything you've got, or even just help you out for the hell of it.

You just have to know where and who to ask

There's a couple Spideys that don't pay electric because someone hooked them up with a super clean Futuristic generator

MJ's, Black Cats, Osborns, and Deadpools are allowed on campus with clearance, a daypass, and a chaperone (their Spidey)

Only for short periods, or if they're super injured. An MJ might pop in when Peter forgets his lunch.

Aunt Mays are not.

It's considered very rude to call them by their 'base names' - ie. calling MJs 'Mary-Janes' or calling Black Cats 'Felicias'

Not all MJs are Mary-Janes

Though, using the term 'a Parker' is common on campus to refer to large Peter Parker population

Roughly 45-50% of the people on campus are named Peter.

There's other 'groups' - such as 'Not-Parkers' (Non-Peter iterations like Pavitr), and 'Duplicates' (Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, MJs, Felicia Hardy NightSpider etc)

Though calling them these things are way less common or accepted than calling someone a Parker ('Not-Parker'is neutral. 'Duplicate' is offensive)