#we’re inching our way in folks

[changingmymajortojoan]

ohhhhhh my god. undergrad just reached out to me to ask if i wanted to choreograph dance nation there next spring

[togglesbloggle]

Voltaire's Prayer

“I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: Oh Lord, make my enemies ridiculous. And God granted it." -Volaire’s letter to Étienne Noël Damilaville, 16 May 1767

I’m inordinately fond of sex, in the political sense.  It’s saved us so often from the worst parts of ourselves.

As far as anti-authoritarian elements of the human experience go, sex is right up there with curiosity and the search for truth- maybe even more so.  When a new tyrant comes to town, shutting down the universities and the libraries is only the second thing they try.  The first thing is to regulate human sexuality to within an inch of its life.  Rules for marriage, rules for courtship, rules for which genitals may touch and where they may touch and when they may touch.  Rules for who and rules for whom.  Rules for which kinds of sex must doom characters in literature, rules for which things may be described as sexy, rules for which things may be described in a sexy way.

Of course they do!  If you’re trying to bind a large polity together under a common ideological narrative, to render people predictable enough to quash dissent and legible enough to exert power through them, the last thing you need is a bunch of folks running around being horny about stuff without permission.  Nature gifted us with a great capacity for reason and community; we have the innate opportunity to learn about ourselves and our neighbors, and to form complex societies based on that understanding.  It was Aristotle who first called us the political animal, and the fruits of that extraordinary capacity will always be within our reach, if only we can come together within a shared understanding.  The invention of the city is the great triumph of our species, and with it we conquer the universe.

But also this extraordinary, reasoning mind has been sculpted from the raw clay of a biology that’s anchored in sexual reproduction, and this ends up being very, very funny.

The problem isn’t so much that the sex instinct exists, per se.  It’s how it’s implemented.  Like most biological forms, the full complement of 86 billion(!) neurons in your brain aren’t encoded in a particular configuration; the brain is much too complex to be described so precisely in the only ~725 megabytes or so of human DNA.  The particular shape of your brain is in there somewhere- the lobes and subregions responsible for vision, memory, cognition, all that- but only up to a point.  The genius and fundamental limitation of genetics is that, below a certain level, the genes instead describe a process for the production and reproduction of specialized cells, and simply constructs them in such a way that they can be relied upon to order themselves as they go.

This is all well and good when we’re talking about kidneys and livers, but the fact that you can encode any kind of specific behavioral instinct in a brain this way is nothing short of a minor miracle.  Think about it!  Spiders don’t have a ‘spider web’ gene, the gene is for ‘proteins that come together in self-assembling electrochemically sensitive gelatin tissue which, when complete, encodes patterns that operate organ systems such as legs and spinnerets in such a way as to reliably create silk webs.’  This is absurdly impressive, and also completely insane.

What I’m getting at is, powerful behavioral instincts in a complex animal aren’t precise instruction manuals by which we pursue evolutionarily advantageous behaviors.  Sex and eros are prior to logic or language, let alone strategy.  Sex is a double-thick electrical wire discharging lightning bolts right through the middle of our cognitive centers, installed in the brain by a surgeon wearing mittens.  It’s an untethered firehose whipping chaotically through the cathedral, unpredictably spraying golden reliquaries with substances unmentionable.  It’s the first and greatest anarchist.

I really can’t overstate my gratitude for this.

Obviously this results in any number of deeply goofy outcomes by way of kinks and odd sexual practices- it gets tangled with pain centers, with random bits of anatomy and proprioception, with our taboos and aversions, with our greatest terrors or our greatest yearnings or just arbitrary stimuli from adolescence, and of course it gets enmeshed so often with our notions of power and submission.  It imbues these things with a fascination and potency out of all proportion with their mundane meanings.  And ultimately, you end up with human pleasures and human values that diverge so far from banal evolutionary imperatives as to be all but unrecognizable.

Even when this process somehow manages to propagate through the brain in such a way as to drive behaviors that are legibly aligned towards some adaptive constraint- e.g. heterosexual mating practices resulting in biological reproduction and careful childrearing- it’s still madness.  Love and sex penetrate deeply across tribal and national and racial boundaries, across economic interests, across battle-lines and enmities.  We become traitors, apostates, emigrants, and artists.  Declare a law, and in short order some hot-headed young people come along to break it in the name of sexual passions you could not possibly have seen coming.  Divide your neighborhood into us and them, and by the time the ink is dry on your proclamation there will be a forbidden relationship across the fence.  There is no social order, no ethical system, no theory of human nature that can entirely withstand contact with the full spectrum of human sexuality, because sex and eros are always going to be exactly as bonkers as the complexity of the human mind and culture will allow, plus a little extra just to be sure.

This isn’t always a delight, of course.  Many prohibitions exist for a very good reason, and the chaos of human sexuality makes no exemptions for true evil.  Some of us end up really, truly victims of this process.  But for all the dangers, the chaos at the root of all this isn’t oriented towards evil.  Chaos just means chaos, essentially arbitrary and hence absurd in character.

And in the grand analysis, we are so lucky to have this thing moving through our communities, this ridiculous madness that guarantees that there will be cracks in every wall and slips exploding cigars in the pockets of the powerful few.  Not in everybody as individuals, of course, and not everybody the same amount; asexuality is certainly one of the outcomes that all this mad gallivanting through our brains can produce.  Sexuality would never be so predictable as to guarantee its own existence, after all.  That’s part of what makes the joke so funny.

But all of us, regardless of sexuality, get to live in a world where the grand anarchy of sex is constantly driving home this lesson that no category is inviolate and no law is perfect.  That we should not and cannot take ourselves too seriously, or forget that we’re animals.  That we don’t exist only for the sake of others, or within their understanding.  That cities are made of cooperation, grace, and forbearance- not conformity or mere compliance.

People sometimes worry about immortality.  In the political sense, I mean.  They worry about eternal dictatorships and unconquerable gerontocracies.  This fear isn’t entirely unjustified; death has often played a role in progress and liberation.  But as long as enough of us are still getting horny without permission, still falling in love in stupid ways, I think we’ll be okay.  Romeo and Juliet don’t have to die at the end to make a difference in the world, as long as they’re brave enough to get weird with it.

[zineobiology]

Welcome to the Zine O’Biology (closed! Release early 2025)

A multi-fandom Star Trek Zine.

Do you have strong opinions on Vulcan fra’als, Cardassian tails, or how the heck Trill symbionts reproduce? We want to hear from you!

The Zine O’Biology is a fictional comparative xenobiology academic journal set in the Star Trek universe. If you’ve always wanted to wax eloquent for up to 3000 words about your theories on alien biology, welcome to your new home!

We want all your theories about all your favorite aliens! This is a friendly but competitive academic journal where the content of every paper is a little bit suspicious (is this paper based on rumor or fact? What is the methodology?) and some competing authors leave snarky comments on one another’s work. So just like a real academic journal, except ours features the Great Green Anthurium.

We welcome xenobiology articles on all Star Trek aliens from all series!

The final format will be a PDF that you can scroll at your leisure or print at home in order to have a physical copy of the Zine. (This way there is no money involved.)

--SEEKING SUBMISSIONS FOR--

Alien biology articles

Alien biology artwork

In-Universe advertisements

Letters to the editor

ALIEN BIOLOGY ARTICLES

How do Andorian genders work? Are Cardassians actually lizards? Why do Klingons have so many redundant organs? What’s the biological purpose of Bajoran nose ridges? What’s the best cement mix for emergency surgery on a Horta?

You’ve been pondering alien biology for years. This is your chance to infodump all your favorite theories to an eager audience of your fellow nerds!

Articles will be separated into two categories: reproductive biology or general biology. Yes, we also want all your theories on what every species is packing downstairs…and how they use it.

Journal articles should be fun and engaging, but also written in your interpretation of a pseudo-academic style, since this is a highly respected Federation xenobiology journal. If you want to keep things more lighthearted and less academic, check out the section on Letters to the Editor.

ALIEN BIOLOGY ARTWORK

If you have independent illustrations about alien biology we would love to see them! If you would like to provide illustrations for one of our journal articles, tell us what species you want to illustrate and we’ll do our best to match you up!

Art should be in a square, scaleable format, printable at high resolution at 4x4 inches.

JOURNAL ADVERTISEMENTS

Even in a post-need future, academic journals will need a little extra funding. Submit your ads for Ferengi Oomox Creme, Self Sealing Stem Bolts, Gently Used Federation Technology, and, of course, “reproductive aids.” The weirder the better! Have fun with it!

All art needs to be printable at high resolution

Ad Sizes:

full page: 4.5" x 7.5"

Column: 2.21" x 7.5"

Half Page: 4.5" x 3.75"

Square: 2.21" x 2.18" (i know its not a perfect square but trust me)

Half square: 2.21" x 1.1"

Banner: 4.5" x 0.83"1.75

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Do you have a great idea, but it’s not enough to fill out a 3000 word article? Submit it as a “reaction” to a previous journal article. Feel free to lay into a mythical researcher who does NOT understand why their biological theory is wrong and yours is right!

Max length 800 words. Enjoy making these plenty frothy!

WE NEED SUB-EDITORS!

The creators of this Zine are all notorious Vulcan Fuckers. Since we want the Zine O’Biology to be open to all alien species, it is only logical that we seek your expertise.

We’re seeking fans from all over the Star Trek universe to spread the word that yes, it’s time for us to all come together in the spirit of explaining how our favorite aliens come together.

Sub-Editors will be in charge of helping us solicit articles and art for their specific race of aliens and editing those articles in order to fit into the Zine. If we don’t have a sub editor for a species, we’ll do our best, but the chapter on that species won’t be as good as it would be if folks with real fanon knowledge were involved.

WANT TO GET INVOLVED, BUT YOU’RE NOT A WRITER OR ARTIST?

WE NEED:

Graphic designers to help with Zine layout

Social media promoters

Alien art and article wranglers (ie: get your fannish friends involved!)

--HOW TO GET INVOLVED--

Fill out the Art or Writing (Applications now closed) Google Form letting us know your interests or reach out to the Editor in Chief at zineobiology@gmail.com

DEADLINES:

August 1, 2024: Last date for everyone seeking an art or writing partner to submit their request. We don’t guarantee you’ll be partnered up. It depends on how many people are interested and what aliens they want to draw/write.

August 18, 2024: Art/Writing partners notified. NOTE: it’s both fine and encouraged if you want to submit as a team from the start! This is for people who do not have a partner and would like us to find them one.

August 30, 2024: Final call for all journal authors, artists, and advertisers to let us know what species they’re working with, how many submissions they plan to send, and whether their submission will be general or reproductive biology.

October 30, 2024: All art, advertising, and journal submissions are due

We hope to have the Zine O’Biology ready for your enjoyment by New Year’s Eve 2024. We all have full time jobs and lives, so that date may change depending on the volume of submissions.

FAQ

What if my biological theories are totally different from another author’s?

Yes. Perfect. We love it.

We want to see everyone’s theories! Canon gave us scraps, but together we will make a meal! Expect to see many mutually contradictory articles. That’s part of the fun!

What about Smut?

Yes, we are accepting E rated submissions! The journal will be separated into two sections:

General Biology

Reproductive Biology

General Biology is everything but the genitals

Reproductive Biology should include actual descriptions of the mechanics and biology. Think of it as creating reference material for smut writers and artists.

[gatheringbones]

[“My Bodysex Workshops were well received, so I decided to film one. You just can’t beat the moving image; it’s an opportunity to give people images of what sex might be. The best way for us to learn is to find out what’s going on with everyone else.

My girlfriend and I used a home video camera, and it took me two years to edit it on two clunky tape decks. My films were automatically labeled porn, because if you see a pussy or a penis, it’s porn. But you can’t teach sex without getting explicit, so, again, I found myself embracing the role of pornographer.

Before the Internet, every time I said “masturbation,” it either sent folks into gales of laughter or provoked embarrassed looks as they quickly changed the subject. My articles for magazines were canceled and interviews for television ended up on the cutting room floor. The bottom line of sexual repression is the prohibition of childhood masturbation. This humble activity is the basis for all of human sexuality. The Internet was the first place in my long career that I was not censored.

My old lover Grant ran my first website. At the end, he was classified as legally blind, and held a magnifying glass, with his nose an inch from the screen. When I joined forces with law school grad and cyber geek Carlin Ross, we created a new website. I believe that once Grant met Carlin, he was able to leave his disintegrating body. He made it to his eighty-sixth birthday and died proud with his boots on, with the next upload for my website sitting on his hard drive. I miss him terribly to this day. We had the most passionate love/hate affair of the century.

Carlin and I offer free, accessible sex information, both visual and written, to women and men. We call the clips where we show sexual skills, “The New Porn.” Sex education must be entertaining, not academic, dry, boring, or stilted. I’m not afraid of the word porn. If people are going to call my explicit sex education porn, then I say embrace the word. Be the new porn, be the porn you want to see. While it’s true that a lot of pornography out there is shitty for the most part, it still works: it gets people hot. The biggest turn on for me is to have a fully orgasmic partner, not someone pretending or playing. We all know the real deal when it’s happening—authentic orgasms are unmistakable. I’m a sex-positive feminist, liberating women one orgasm at a time.

Our site represents a new feminist sexual politics that’s well beyond any victimhood of rape and sexual abuse. We represent orgasmic feminism—a new movement of women who have taken control of our sex lives, and who dare to design them in any way we choose whether we’re straight, bi, lesbian, or a combination, and we can enjoy our bodies in any way we desire.”]

betty dodson, from the porn wars, from the feminist porn book: the politics of producing pleasure, edited by tristan taormino, constance henley, and celine perreñas shimizu, 2013

[zayray030]

Perfect Princess

Getting kidnapped by a ghostly manbaby was not on Ace's agenda. And neither was getting claimed as someone's else's fiancée, but whatever saved her ass!

OR

A simple midnight walks lead to Ace getting kidnapped by a prince who wants his perfect princess and the rest of the group having to save her.

Note: This was a comission!

“Ughhh!” whined Grim as he cleaned the windows. “Ughhh!” he whined louder as he tried to rub at a stubborn spot. “Ughhh-!”

“Whine more time and I’ll have Sam remove tuna from the weekly shopping list.” threatened Yuu, as they continued swiping away, almost looking calm where it not for the vein throbbing on their forehead.

“What!” gasped Grim is betrayal! “You can’t do that!”

“Er, yes I can.” Replied Yuu,” sounding as done as they looked as they looked at their monster cat and glared at him. “Now hurry up and stop whining!”

“But cleaning is so boring! And it takes to long!” the cat stomped his foot on the ground like a child.

“And it’s going to take longer the more you whine.” Replied Yuu without missing a beat and turned their attention to the floor. “Now please, just hurry up!”

“Fine!” yelled Grim as he turned back to the windows. “All this yelling at Grim the Great! Why I ought- AHHHH!”

“Grim?!”

“NOW SEE HERE FILTHY VERMIN!” yelled out a random ghost as he and two other ghosts flanking him on both sides threateningly made their way to the duo. “What gives you any right to be where royalty lays! Our prince should not be condemned to have to reside where peasant folks such as yourself reside! Leave so he may fine love and happiness in peace without your disappointing aura looming over him!”

“Who the fuck are you!” snapped Yuu as they tried to make sense of the situation. No way in hell where they the usual ghosts. They were long past their first meeting and those three have been caring ever since Yuu and Grim.

No. These ghosts glared at Yuu and Grim as if they were truly nothing,

“Yeah! This is our dorm! What on earth are you talking about royalty for! Neither Malleus nor Leona even stays here! Bad enough with the way they act already, now they have their ghost servants kick us out of our own dorm!” snapped back Grim, his confidence back after the initial fright “You’re the ones who should be leaving!” he pointed at them with his little paws.

“IF BRUTE FORCE IS WHAT IS NECESSARY TO GET YOU REFFIAN FOOLS OUT OF HERE THEN SO IT SHALL BE!” Yelled out the ghost as it started firing spells  with the help of the two lackeys behind him.

“Ahh!” yelled out Yuu, ducking away from the spells. ‘No way in hell are we going to win.’ They thought despairingly as they witnessed one of the spells make a near by vase explode immediately. ‘I need to get Grim and I to a safer location and see if I can get Crowley up his ass to try and help me. Goodbye this week’s check.’ They thought despairingly as they made a quick grab for their fellow student and ran from the ghosts.

“MRAGH!” yelled out Grim as he was suddenly grabbed. “Wait why are you running away he squirmed, trying to escape. “They’re taking over our dorm!” he argued.

“And also have the ability to turn me into fleshy dust. Let’s not risk a fight we’re going to lose!” yelled out Yuu as they escaped from Ramshackle, the last spell missing them by a quarter of an inch as the doors to ramshackle slammed shut behind them.

“AND STAY OUT!” was the last thing that was heard.

Yuu panted as they tried to make sense of the situation. Prince? Love? Owned Ramshackle? Yuu had no idea what was going on, but they knew that only one person could actually know what happened within this school. “I think.” Began Yuu, as they looked at Grim, mutual understanding in his eyes. “That we should speak with the headmaster.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“So, ghosts in fancy hats stormed into your dorm, yelled at you about a prince finding his love, started shooting spells at you-almost killing you- and then kicked you out of your dorm?” summarised Crowley, as he stared at the beast tamer and the beast in front of him.

“Yup!” Grim popped out the P whilst Yuu nodded.

“Well, that does make sense considering what time of year it is.! Sighed Crowley as he leaned back on his chair.

“You knew this was going to happen?” asked Grim in shock, staring at the headmaster as if he had said tuna was the worst thing to exist.

“NO! Well- mean- look it’s complicated.” Crowley tried to explain, trying to justify his negligence to his student.

“Then explain. Because I didn’t almost die for nothing!” they snapped, somehow managing to glare down at the taller man.

“Essentially the ghost you saw were the retainers of the ghost groom.” Began Crowley. “He is a prince he lived years ago who dreamed off finding the perfect bride. He would search the lands far and wide trying to find the perfect princess so he can have his happily ever after. Unfortunately, he died horribly before he could finish his dreams. His ghost carried on as he tried to find the perfect woman and every year, he comes to our lands to find her.”

“Boo Hoo, man baby didn’t find perfect slave, what does this have to do with me?” asked Yuu irritably as Grim also looked at Crowley in annoyance.

“The prince and his retainers use Ramshackle as their base of operations.” Explained Crowley, slightly disturbed at the lack of empathy, but then again not completely shocking. 7 over-blots would change anyone. “Thankfully you don’t have to worry. He’ll give up after a few days!”

“And what makes you so sure? Normally you tend to be wrong about these things.” Said Griim bluntly, wide eyes staring at Crowley as if he hadn’t crushed his ego in one hit.

Moving on, the man explained. “That’s because the woman he’s describing doesn’t exist!” explained Crowley. “His specifications, and these are direct quoted mind you: 167cm with an air of mischief and kindness! Smooth, healthy skin! Big eyes! A cute pretty smile! Fun and pretty hair! Pink pouty lips that make you just wanna kiss them! Athletic yet curvaceous body!” explained Crowley to Yuu’s growing disgust. “Essentially, he will never find this woman in all of twisted wonderland. Or anywhere else.” He added, looking at his literally out of this world student.

“So what? We’re just meant to wait out his delusions?”

“Unfortunately. However, I am aware that you are close friends with the other dorms so I am sure they will welcome the two of you for a few nights as he gives up and leaves.” Just as Yuu was contemplating the consequences of socking Crowley in the face, the door burst open and there stood a haggard and messy Riddle, panting deeply, following him was an equally worried Ortho.

“HEADMAGE!” The housewarden cried as Crowley jumped in shock.

“Why, Heartslabul Riddle Rosehearts and Igyhide’s Ortho Shroud! What on earth happened?!”

“It’s Ace! She’s been kidnapped by ghost!” he yelled out desperately, eyes frantic.

“WHAT!!?!??” The other three in the room yelled out in shock.

“Kidnapped?” double checked Yuu. “By ghosts?”

“Yes! Look at this security footage!” instructed Ortho as he showed the people in the room what happened to Ace.

“How on earth did you obtain this-?”

“Not know headmaster.” Snapped everyone as they turned their attention to the hologram that Orth was showing them.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ugh those lot better be grateful that I’m covering for their asses!” Ace huffed as she quietly made her way over to Sam’s “If the housewarden discovered I was sneaking out for something as lame as extra pens and notebooks I would be so screwed.”

However, before she could continue her walk over to Sam’s shop, she suddenly heard a sound.

“…lly…”

“Huh? Who’s there?” she called out, searching for the source of the noise, hand going over to her magic pen.

“…Finally…I found you…” the voice seemed to be growing more louder and more clearly.

“Who’s there.!” Ace called out again, taking her magic pen and brandishing it. However before she could do much, a ghost popped out.

“I finally found you my princess!” Yelled a handsome ghost in a groom’s outfit.

Everything went black.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“And we haven’t seen her at all today!” Riddle managed to finally coherently say after he had finally gotten past the panic not onto rage that somebody had kidnapped one of his students.

Meanwhile, Grim, Yuu and the headmaster were sharing a few concerned looks.

“Was that?”

“It would seem so. It seems that the ghost groom has finally found his match. Oh, dear oh dear oh dear.”

“But Ace? She’s the last thing I could ever see be described as the ‘perfect princess? What kind of idiot would look at her and…wait a minute.”

“Technically, Ace is within that height range. She is known to cause trouble however she has been seen helping those around her, like the kid whom she gave that card to. Her skin has no blemishes to it and despite how much trouble she gets on with there doesn’t seem to be a single scar anywhere. Her eyes are a …unique enough colour that it truly does make them stand out. She is in a sports club as well so that’s where the athletic body comes in. And she tends to pout a lot which is what she was doing in that video so technically…she does fit the man’s description. As odd as it is.”

“Of course, only a freak would have been able to view Ace’s wonderfulness and think that he had any right to seal her. We must get her back!” demanded Riddle, fists banging on Crowley’s desk.

“I’m more worried for the guy. I don’t see Ace taking this very lightly and there’s a high chance he’ll return her to use, with him sobbing about how mean she is.” Pointed out Grim, arms folded.

“Either way, if he doesn’t then this can cause a huge problem.” However, suddenly there was a huge yell and a crash. “What on earth?” stood up Crowley, the rest of the students following him also confused by the noise only to be met with absolute pandemonium.

“Headmage!”  voice called out and out popped Deuce looking worse for wear! “Thank god you came! We have a serious problem.!” However, before he could explain, a spell came whizzing by, thanks to the problem he was talking about.

“Getting so bent out of shape over a little joke? How sad.” Cooed Lilia mockingly as the ghosts fired more spells at him.

“Why are you agitating them?” cried Out Deuce as he tried to fire another spell at the fancy ghosts.

“How dare you yell at Lilia. Prepare to perish!” yelled out Sebek as he started dishing out more spells.

Unfortunately, it was becoming clear that the mages were struggling. “Retreat!” called out Crowley.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“We’ll be fine here.” Gasped out the Headmage, finally free from the ghosts.

“Oh hello everyone.!” Welcomes Azul.

“Oh.” Yuu pointed out, Hey!” they said as they stared at everyone else gathering consisting of Pomefiore, Cater, Kalim, Azul and Leona. “Guessing the ghosts chased you out to?”

“You have no idea.” Sighed Vil, shaking his head.

As the students started to share stories about how they ended up down here, all ranging from studying and getting chased out, teaching fashion and getting chased to, trying to grab lab equipment and getting chased out and finally just walking and getting chased away, there were definitely some annoyed faces. When they were finished, Riddle explained the situation to them.

“Soo…you’re saying that Ace fits the description of  a perfect princess’?” asked Cater, slight disbelief colouring his words.

When Crowley nodded, silence descended on the students, before a snigger broke out and the boys burst out into laughter.

“Ha-ha, Ace? The perfect princess? Asked Vil mockingly, almost bent over from laughing so much.

“That has to be the most amusing- I mean horrible thing I’ve heard my entire life.” Snickered Azul, fixing his glasses.

“This is no laughing matter!” snapped the headmaster. “If dear Ace marries the ghost groom, her soul will be tied to him, and she will die.” He informed them sombrely.

“WHAT?” yelled out the first years, scared by this new piece of information.

“Ace will turn into a ghost?” repeated Riddle scared. He couldn’t help but feel at fault for the situation, especially since Ace had only decided to leave the dorms because she felt like he would only yell at her. “We have to go and save her!”

“Of course!” reassured Crowley, gesturing to the other students. “I’m sure her fellow peers would love to help-“

“Nah.” They all replied in perfect harmony.

“It was her fault for sneaking out in the middle of the night.” Replied Vil, looking at his nails completely disinterested.

“I gain no benefit from helping her. She has no particular qualities I’m aiming to ste-use.” Replied Azul, shrugging his shoulders.

“Wayyy to much effort.” Replied Leona, yawning loudly.

“What disgusting attitudes.” Mumbled Yuu, holding Grim tighter in their grip.

“Well, I guess I’ll do it myself.” Ortho glared at them. Just as Kalim was about to ask how, the other boy called out. “Running system for shortest time to retrieve Alice Trappola. Method achieved. Blow up the school. This will commence when talk is at 100%. Power currently at 60%. 80%-“

“STOP! DO NOT BLOW UP THE SCHOOL!” Yelled Crowley, waving his arms hysterically.

“Well, if you have any better suggestions to getting Ace out I would love to hear it!” replied Ortho, still pointing the beam at the school.

“The rest of you! Have you no shame!? You’re certain you want to stick with your answers?” asked Crowley, glaring at his students with nothing but pure disgust. “Because I know for a fact that when dear Ace-chan finds out that you all deserted her, hell will reign over this school.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Headmage?” asked Sebek confused, crossing his arms.

Crowley turned to Azul. “She will tear your business to shreds. She will have ghost armies constantly vandalising your restraint. Any business deal she’ll snuff out like  a flame and constantly bring up how you let a teenage girl die.”

“Hrk.”

“You think playing villains is bad?” asked Crowley, turning to Vil. “I’m sure everyone who thought you were shady, and evil will be kicking their feet up in joy knowing that they were right that you let a girl die in front of you.”

Now looking at Leona. “Forget any peaceful naps or days for the rest of your miserable life. She WILL haunt you and make It worse even after you break.”

“Okay, okay!” Lilia put his hand up. “We get it. Ace-chan isn’t going to let this slight towards her remain unpunished. Now, how do we do this?” asked Lilia.

“How kind you all are!” Crowley yelled out, the fakest smile in the history of the world on his face. “Now, since we’re dealing with supernatural beings who far outnumber us, let us go and see the one-man who has everything for any situation.

“Sam.” They all chorused out, heading onto his store.

“I’m guessing this is about the ghosts?” asked Sam, the moment they stepped into the store.

“How did you know?” asked Riddle, shocked at how quick the man received information.

“2 things. One, my friends in the shadows. And two, Ace’s brother called me and said that he had a bad feeling, so I checked some of the store cameras outside and it shows little Ace being taken away by the ghost.” Explained Sam, pointing at one of the cameras in the shop.

“So, do you have something that can help?” asked Riddle, fidgeting a little. I mean, It’s not like you have an anti-ghost groom-.”

“IN STOCK!”

“Seriously?” asked Leona, eyes wide.

“Ha nope!”

“WHAT?” The end of the world might actually be coming.

“Well, I mean I do? But Ace’s brother said that you guys can come up with something or he’ll you kill himself.”

“How useful. Once again, thank you Sam!” thanked Crowley as he and the rest of the students exited the store.

“So now what do we do?” asked Crowley.

“Well, the only way that we can success is is…. we fight for Ace!” announced Riddle.

“What?” the rest deadpanned

“Not a bad idea.” Agreed Crowley thoughtfully. I mean none of you would ever match he prince’s description and maybe if he saw that Ace was already in the hands of another how will give up!”

“And how do we do that? It’s not like he’ll be dying to let anyone near spiky.” Leona yawned.

“By challenging his masculinity.” Yuu suggested, stroking Grim’s fur as they thought of ways to blackmail the Headmage into giving them more money.

“Perfect! Let’s gather as many students as possible for this!” declared Riddle.

“We meet at the little cottage near the mines.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This is all you have?” demanded Riddle as he stared at the students assembled. The only one’s not out of the main group where Ruggie, Scarabia and Malleus and Silver.

“Ruggie said not on his life, Jamil needs to keep Kalim out of trouble and Silver needs to protect Malleus.” Explained the headmaster.

“God enough.” Riddle huffed as he stared back at the Headmage. “So how do we do this? We can’t just storm in.”

“Can’t we?” asked Vil. “I mean, we can always just say that we found out about the beautiful princess that lived here and wanted to be given the chance.”

“HEHE, can’t wait to see crabby.” Giggled Floyd.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“How dare you insult our prince!” yelled out a ghost indignantly. Stood before him was anyone who was over 180cm who could make the prince feel small.

“I mean are we wrong?” asked Vil, flipping his fair. “If a man simply can’t allow others to gaze upon beauty, then that man is simply a coward who doesn’t deserve the fair lady’s hand in marriage.”

“What on earth has gotten into you?” asked Leona, disturbed at the new chivalrous version of Vil.

“Fine! We’ll show you that only our prince is worthy of anyone!” declared the ghost as he let everyone.

‘This is going to go terribly” thought Jack as he and the rest were escorted into the school.

When they made it to the great hall, there floated the prince in all his glory. “So, I hear you are the ones who are trying to fight for my fiancées hand in marriage?” he asked, sneering at the lot.

“Why yes, we are the only ones truly worthy of her!” declared Vil, much to everyone else’s shock. Where had his previous attitude gone?

“SHUT UP!” Shrieked the prince loudly, fire dancing around him, “I’m the only one worthy of her and I will prove it!”

“Ughhh, whatever, just give us back spiky no-“Suddenly Leona felt a burning sensation on his cheek. It took a couple of seconds for him to realise he had been slapped. “Why you-!”

“Such brutish and uncouth behaviour! My princess deserves to be spoiled by all and treated as if she is the most beautiful person ever!” huffed the prince, almost throwing a temper tantrum.

Vil smirked as Leona glared at the other prince. “I do agree with you. Someone as beautiful as Ace deserves to feel celebrated and loved all the-“

“Do you have a pet? A cat, dog, bird?” the prince shot out in rapid fire.

“What? No, I don’t have ti-!” SLAP!

“My princess deserves to always have something or someone looking after her! NEXT!”

“My name’s Jack.” Introduced the wolf beast man.

“And Jack. Do you have a sword?” asked the prince expectantly?”

“No, why would I? I can always just pun-.” SLAP.

“A princess deserves a prince with a dashing sword to come save her! NEXT!”

On and on it went, everyone getting slapped for one reason or another. Floyd for getting violent, Jade for trying to give a poisonous mushroom, Trey for not being able to give  a single compliment and so on.

“Well, then. Let’s send the next group.” Muttered Crowley in disappointment.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

“Too shady! Too talkative! Too cute! Too dumb!” yelled the prince.

“Well, this is just pathetic.” Muttered Leona. Before anyone else can agree with him, the doors opened up once again and there was Ace.

Her hair was styled into perfect little ringlets that framed her face and cascaded down her back. Her hair was also adorned by the most beautiful of jewels as were her hands and neck. Her dress captured her figure whilst also trailing down teasingly. Her veil was intricate and beautiful, flipped onto her hair to show her face. Everyone in the room almost forgot how to think with such beauty gracing their eyes.

This inability to think is what would lead to one of the worst (debatable in the eyes of some. However, in the eyes of this person, it was the best) moment ever.

Azul, in full confidence stood up and said, “I object as her true fiancé!” yelled the teen with more passion than when he had used to scam Crowley.

“What?” turned around everyone, looking at him in parts murder and parts confusion. However, Ace caught on quickly, eyes flooding up with fake tears as she ran to the frozen man,

“BABY!” She yelled; her voice shocked up with tears as she attempted to comfortably wrap her arms around the other. Seeing her beauty up close made Azul truly appreciate that he had talent to at least compensate for something. “I was so scared when this strange, creepy man abducted me!” her voice was alarmingly high pitched, sounding like a scared lost child and not at all like someone who kicked Azul in the balls when he once insinuated she and Riddle had been a thing.

“My princess!” gasped the prince affronted at such accusations. “I did not kidnap you! You should be honoured that I chose you as my bride!”

“Suck a titty!” she replied, turning around to glare at him. The other boys had to hold in their laughter but let a few snorts escape. “Why the hell should I be honoured that you chose me? What? Because I fit some creepy physical requirement list? There is more to choosing a partner than just merely how they look!”

“Oh, yes? Like what?”

“How about someone you can laugh and cry with? Someone who’ll stick with you through all the hard times? Someone who you can share withing with? Someone who wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with them!” That’s who would be the perfect PARTNER!”

Throughout all of this Azul couldn’t help but stare entranced by the girl and what she was saying.

The prince said nothing. Merely staring at her and her Azul before sighing and signalling for the rest of the ghosts to back off. “Let us leave. The girl has given me much to think about. And you, shady!” called out the prince, pointing at Azul. “Never lose this wonderful woman. OR I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN,” and with those lovely words the prince and his entourage left.

“Well, that was something.” Azul finally broke the silence, however he was immediately slapped by an angry bride.

“OWCH” winced the other boys.

“Next time you claim to be someone’s fiancée don’t be more romantic, CREEP!” And with that she marched on her heel and stormed out, just as the rest of the group walked in. Riddle, smiled smugly at Azul as he gently guided Ace back to the dorms with him.

“Soooo, exactly how well do you think it’ll go over with Riddle if I asked her out?” asked Azul as he stared at the disappearing red head duo.

“Oh, you would die.” Answered Deuce plainly, not even looking a little sorry for Azul, however that might have to do with the fact that he’s still a little shell-shocked from Ace.

[illarian-rambling]

So this has been looooong overdue...

Character Introduction: Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III, Heir to the Icy City

“So.” The Duchon pulled a silken rope and a blue-clad figure brought out a tea set almost faster than Astra could blink. “You seem a curious sort. My last tailor was an old, stodgy fellow—I always worried one needle prick would be the end of him.” They smiled mischievously. “Tell me about yourself, Ms. DuClaire, and I’ll tell you a bit about myself. Nothing you don’t want to, of course. Just anything you find fun or worth sharing.”

Somewhat surprisingly, the Duchon began to prepare two cups of tea with their own hands. Silently, they tapped the bowl of sugar. Astra held up three fingers.

Was this some sort of ploy? Astra honestly couldn’t tell what the motive would be, much less if there was one. The Duchon seemed almost child-like, humming softly to themself as they stirred their servant’s tea.

Alright, doll, I’ll play your game. But I ain’t gonna— Astra took a sip of the tea they passed her and almost fainted for how tantalizing the flavor was. Ok, maybe I’ll like it.

“Well, like my papers said, I’m from the Republic.” She cleared her throat, blushing a bit under the handsome elf’s undivided attention. “What they didn’t say is I’m most a’ the way to a book mage, I just never ended up gettin’ my license. Your, uh, your grace, I mean.”

“What a remarkable path!” The Duchon blinked eyes as bright as a bird’s. “As a note, when we’re in my personal quarters, you may call me Avymere, if you wish. I know you don’t have our slew of titles down in the Republic. Trust me, even I find it all confusing sometimes!”

They laughed, a light, airy sound that reminded the witch of wind chimes. She found herself relaxing into the chair, smiling as she sipped her tea, even as her mind whirled. There was just something about this person! It snagged at Astra’s core like a loose tooth. Maybe it was just her general distrust of fine folk, but no one was that chipper—not at eight in the morning with a total stranger.

“Why did you decide to quit before taking your licensing exam?” Avymere asked, they themself also sitting in a more relaxed manner now. “I understand it’s a very difficult exam, though I never had a head for runes. My father tried, by the gods he did, but nothing ever stuck.” They shrugged in a ditzy way. “I suspect he was always a little disappointed I never took to it.”

“The exam was more money than I was willin’ to spend,” Astra answered, skirting the truth by an inch or two. “’Sides, I don’t need it for what I’m doin’ now.”

Was it possible that the Duchon was just… dumb? Well-meaning, but it was just so out there that a noble would be asking such intrusive questions to the help. If a library worth of runic knowledge hadn’t been on the line and she wouldn’t’ve been hung for saying so, Astra would’ve told anyone else to stuff it. Her reasons for not having her license were no one’s business but her own! Yet, Astra couldn’t honestly look into those starling eyes and work up any true indignation. They were just so genuine.

“I heard a description of the skirt you made,” Avymere continued with a conspiratory grin. “I think that’s a beautiful marriage of the arts—runes and fashion. Though I guess runes aren’t technically art, are they? They sure are pretty though. Do you have a favorite rune? One you think is the prettiest?”

Another… well it wasn’t really a nosy question, just a weird one. Astra decided to answer honestly. “On a visual level? Fire,” she said. “It’s one a’ the simplest shapes, yet elegant too. ’Course I don’t use it much in this line a’ work.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s a shame. But you wouldn’t want clothes catching on fire, now would you?” Avymere laughed again, drawing an unexpected chuckle from Astra’s lips as the elf’s mirth spread through the air.

“So, you had another line of work, then? Not magic if you don’t have your license, I’m guessing, and not clothes because that’s what you’re doing now. Were you”—Their eyes flicked to her hands, to the slight stiffness with which she held her left arm—“a farmer? Oh, or a fighter! You’ve got a tough look about you. Is it true all people in the Republic can swing a sword?”

“I, uh….” Astra paused, then really considered what she was about to say. Potion hunting wasn’t too far from what she’d been doing for six years. That was probably exactly the sort of answer Avymere wanted though.

Astra considered further what she’d said already to this chatterbox elf, what she’d given up as answers to those silly questions. Avymere knew she was an unlicensed mage with the skill to pass the exam, just not the funds. They knew she had a proclivity for fire. They knew she had the hands of a physical laborer and a previously injured arm. In short, they’d picked up on everything that might make her dangerous in less time than it’d taken the witch to finish her tea.

She grinned. So this was a game then. Just one she’d never seen played before.

And by extension, one she herself didn’t know how to play.

“I did freelance work for a few years on the road.” Astra shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “I assume you’re a spy a’ some sort.”

“That—” Avymere coughed, choking briefly on their tea. Astra’s grin grew even wider. They caught the expression and a cautious smile began to creep onto their own features. “And why ever would you ask that?”

“Just the questions ya asked, is all. That and I ain’t too trustin’ a’ nobility—no offense. It all lined up too neatly, ya didn’t have any questions in there that were pure nonsense.”

Avymere’s smile grew more coy. “I’ll take that into account, Ms. DuClaire. Your insight is an honest pleasure. And I take no offense, I probably trust my peers less than you do. Now, shall we dispense with the interview and start our day?”

Full backstory is under the cut ;)

Avymere is the only child of Archduke Eluan Spearsong and Duchess Amarell Spearsong. The Spearsongs have long ruled the city of Salis, within the icy elven country of Skysheer, and are counted as the second most important family in the nation. In addition, they are known to possess a powerful inherited sorcery, augmented by their study of runes. Eluan Spearsong has been long considered one of Illaros's most powerful mages, while his wife steered the city's politics like a well-broken mare. Avymere should've been born with everything, and in a way, they were. In others, they were not so lucky.

For starters, Avymere was born without a trace of sorcery - the first Spearsong in a millenia to be fully mundane. Secondly, though their father tried and they studied and struggled, book magic never clicked for them either. They exist as a break in the grand chain of Spearsong arcane tradition. Thirdly, when they were no more than eight, their mother was assassinated by an unknown faction. The culprit was never found.

This isn't to say Avymere's childhood was all dark. Apart from his sadness in his child not being able to practice magic, Eluan was a model father. He encouraged Avymere's passion for martial arts, even though such a thing is considered unseemly for Skysheerian nobility. He instilled them with strong ideals of stewardship and leading as an act of service, and always made time to care for them while running the city. It's no surprise then, that as an adult, Avymere is doggedly loyal to the Archduke.

Apart from their talent in martial arts, Avymere also has a skill for spycraft. This was recognized early on by the Archduke's spymaster, and since there are simply some places a Duchon can go that a spy disguised as a servant can't, they were trained extensively from the moment they hit adulthood. For their part, Avymere is happy to serve as a spy. It is their duty to the nation and they enjoy the challenge.

This spycraft has had a significant impact on their personality. Though they've never reflected on such a thing, Avymere would hardly recognize their true personality. They play the charming ditz in front of the court, the benevolent library builder in front of the citizens, and the terrifying specter for any rebels or political enemies who manage to get close. The one thing that remains consistent among their many faces is a sense of unyielding duty. They don't see themself as a person, but rather as a tool to protect Skysheer. It's not really an unhappy experience - more that they don't know what it means to be truly happy. The only time they take for themself is when they practice martial arts, often sparring with their bodyguards in the palace garden. They are impeccably polite, deeply cunning, and completely unaware of their worth as a person. They don't wear the crown - it wears them.

Can you see why they're one bad adventure away from a severe breakdown?

Anyways, here are some fun facts!

Avymere is 153 years old. Given that elves in my setting can live to around 500, they're the equivalent of mid to late twenties.

The martial art they practice is called Talmel Valkys, and it's a holdover from before the Skysheerian elves split from their more militant Nabafyrian cousins. Its closest real-world equivalent would be muay thai mixed with a little aikkido.

They, like everyone in their family, are very nearsighted.

Given how their mother was assassinated, Avymere is extraordinarily paranoid about assassins targeting their father.

Their gender would be defined as fe'penche specifically. Elven culture recognizes six genders, and fe'penche roughly translates to nonbianary but female leaning. This means Avymere dresses more femme and engages in traditionally feminine work (politics). In the human tongue, they stick to they/them.

They can play the pianoforte with a very medium level of skill.

That's not quite a wrap, as I have one more present for you. A proper portrait! (Finally!)

Though they are lily white to human eyes, Avymere is considered quite tan for a Skysheerian. Their hair is also a stark white typical of their people, while their eyes are a pale gray.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Let me know if you have any questions and you have yourself a bitchin day <3

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[seat-safety-switch]

Tires cost a fortune. You can buy a car for $200, or at least you used to be able to, and easily spend double that on a set of rock-hard ditch-finders from the local tire shop. When I asked a tire company executive about it, they weasel-worded some mouth grease about tires being “expensive to ship.” Obviously, the only way I was going to get through this was to open a tire factory of my own.

This isn’t unusual. Tire factories used to dot this proud nation in a time before AliExpress and Amazon Secondus. Folks just like you and I would go to work and eke out a reasonable, middle-class existence – with a pension – putting high-quality tires under our neighbours’ cars, for cheap. Eventually, some spreadsheet said this was no longer cost-effective, and now we have to order our tires from another country.

I’m sure they have lots of good reasons for this. Tires are a lot better since the sixties and seventies: for instance, when it starts to snow, not everyone within a 50 mile radius of your car is instantly killed. You can brake harder into corners and also take them at greater speed, without them getting all greasy and knobbly as they heat up. You would expect this improved technology to cost more money, which means that the big tire executives needed to outsource it in order to make the final price more affordable.

Of course, this is patented bullshit. If you’re not interested in profit, you can make inexpensive, good tires all day long. Switch Tire Company, being technically a subsidiary of Switch Investment Corporation, is run entirely at a loss. We simply bet against ourselves every day, shorting our stock on the open market. People take the other side of it, maybe because we keep renaming our company to things like “Switch Blockchain Expressions” or “Switch Artificially Intelligent Hookerbots,” the sort of names that make the casual Wall Street Tier 1 investment bank think that we’re up-and-comers. Then we pour the money we made off their backs into running off a new set of race tires.

Sure, I could have used this kind of business acumen to do something other than lose money making tires for shit-box cars. How else was I going to be able to find 13-inch tires that are 10 inches wide?

[lokisgoodgirl]

Crossed Swords [Avenger! Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (9) You overhear something unwelcome. Mischief ensues. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smuttish. "Friends" w/ benefits. Graphic descriptions of Loki in fencing pants. Language. Mild violence. (w/c 4.2k)

You didn’t know what had possessed you to knock on Loki’s door. It had been over a week since Scotland, and visions of that night had consumed your mind like a virus. It was all you could think about, and you needed to see him. Alone. You squeezed the clan pin from his tartan sash that had somehow ended up in your possession into a fist as the other rapped the wood three times. The sharp edges stung into the soft base of your palm as you heard footsteps approaching. I’m here to return it before the tactics meeting. I’m here to return it, that’s all. It’s not weird. It’s normal, totally nor- “Don’t.” Loki’s deep voice had suddenly commanded through the wood. “Come back to the bed.”

The footsteps paused before retreating. Your stomach clenched, chest tightening while dread rolled up your body like a wave. Without thinking, you pressed your ear to the door. Loki moaned. A low, guttural sound you’d only heard when he was nine inches deep. You frowned, blood thumping in your chest. This was not an unexpected scenario, but hearing it first-hand smarted like vinegar. You took a step back and frowned at the sealed door, rage bubbling in your belly. He’s so fucking full of it, you thought furiously; instantly chastising yourself for being annoyed at all. Jealous. You’re fucking jealous...you fucking idiot. You squeezed the brooch a final time before throwing it harshly at the door. Shit. It hit the centre with a loud thud. Shitshit, Why did I do that?! Swearing under your breath you made a hasty retreat down the corridor, a plan forming as you made your way back to your room. There was just enough time before the tactics meeting. And you had a tactic of your own to deploy.

“Righto guys n’ gals, time for a few home truths.” Steve clapped his hands together, resting them under his chin as he stood at the head of the table. He’s the only one more annoying than Loki, you thought; letting your eyes flicker from your notepad to the pristine god sitting directly across the table. Loki found your covert gaze, immediately shooting you an almost imperceptible wink. Nope, still Loki; you decided, returning his presumptive gesture with a roll of your eyes. Thor sat beside him, the blonde’s hoodie making him look even bulkier beside his lean, perfectly toned brother radiating arrogance in his stupid tight t-shirt. Thor was staring again. You saw his chin dip lower, the swirling blue of his eyes darkening as he gave you that look. His lustful glare had become all too common around the Tower since the red dress incident. And it told you that you tactics were about to play out perfectly.

Fingers pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, being careful to keep looking at the Captain as you tilted your body towards the head of the table. The fingers brushed down your neck, stopping to lightly massage the dent of your collarbone before falling and undoing one innocent button just above your heart. “All this technology is nice and dandy, but if an enemy intercepts our comms; we’re jimmied. Kaplunkered, folks…unless you have the inbuilt qualities, of course.” Steve said. Your fingertips brushed back to your shoulder, digging deeper into the bare flesh and letting your dark chiffon blouse slip down. The fingers caught on a twinge. You frowned, closing your eyes with lips parted in a calculated silent sigh of pleasure. “...so we need to make more of an effort to ensure our bop em’, sock em’ techniques are up to scratch. The ol' S&M. Swords and muscles, folks.” The feeling of Loki’s gaze lingering on you touching yourself was palpable. His analysing stare sifting over your body was something you had become as accustomed to recognising as the waft of burnt toast. You let a smile twitch the edges of your mouth, opening your eyes to concentrate on Steve once again. “Later this afternoon we’ll run a group session, and we can make sure we’re all where we need to be.” You gave your shoulder a final squeeze, letting an expression that was entirely too sexual flash across your features. A low whimper erupted from Thor’s direction. “Asgardians?” Steve huffed in exasperation, making you turn to face the accused with innocent interest. “This applies to you, too.” Thor snapped to attention, babbling incoherently as his cheeks flushed. Loki’s eyes narrowed towards you, before he too looked toward Rogers with a nod. Cool as a New York winter morning. “I concur that the team skillset is somewhat lacking in the close combat department, Rogers. Particularly where blades are concerned.” he said with an air of haughtiness only he could muster. “I would be happy to whip them, into shape.” Whip. The word was onomatopoeic on his tongue. A soft beginning climaxing in a sharp crack which lingered on his lips. His hands lay clasped in front of him on the table, the long lines of his torso perfectly straight through impeccable posture. Those dark waves were tied back in a loose bun, strands hanging against his carved cheekbones. “Excellent.” Steve clapped his hands together again. “Everyone in the training hall in one hour under 'Master of Blades' Laufeyson, then.” he quipped.

I wonder if he had it loose while he was fucking her, you thought; an intrusive mental image making you fight the urge to squirm in your seat. Memories of his wild locks trailing your body filled your mind, how you’d always tug it roughly as he took his pleasure like an animal in heat. Did she do the same? You imagined Loki padding naked and sated across his rooms, casually scraping his luxurious hair still sex-damp up into the messy bun while manifesting the simple black t-shirt and chinos he was wearing. His rooms, you thought with a twinge. He’s never taken me to his rooms. Wetness slid between your thighs as you shuffled, feeling your jaw clench. Loki smirked, as Steve’s voice prattled in the background. You imagined how you would do things differently if he had his hair tied up like that while you fucked him. How your mouth would suck and bruise all along the uninterrupted landscape of pure masculine eroticism he called a jawline. From his chin to his earlobe. God, you wanted to fucking bite him. Hard. Like the bruise he had become accustomed to leaving on the curve of your shoulder. A gift. A remembrance. His mark. You suddenly wondered if anyone else around this table wore that mark.

There were mumbles of disapproval at the idea of Loki as a teacher while seats scraped back on the floor. You lifted your bag onto the surface, nudging a pen which rolled to the middle of the table. “Oops.” you muttered coyly, sliding the bag purposefully to the side. You leant forward, lowering your chest and giving both brothers a view down the neckline of your blouse. Thor’s jaw slackened, seeing the lacey lingerie cupping your breasts. “See you in an hour, boys.” you murmured innocently, beginning to slide the pen towards you. Thor’s glazed stare travelled from your cleavage to your face and back to your chest. The lace was a bright, rich red. Loki’s gaze rose from the salacious view down your top to your eyes. The icy set of his features made your nipples harden. A low growl rumbled in the blonde’s throat as you straightened, not looking back as you casually exited the room with a smirk. “Don’t even think about it, brother.” Loki snarled under his breath, feeling Thor’s biceps vibrate against his shoulder with covert mirth. “Oh brother…” the blonde growled, watching the curve of your ass as you disappeared out of sight. “I fear it is far too late for that.”

The Tower weapons training facility was on the thirty-second floor, but it may as well have been in the basement. There was no natural light, just overhead runners that made it feel like you could be anywhere.

You and Nat pushed the swing doors open in sync, letting them fly wide as the waiting group turned expectantly. You’d changed. A black sports bra underneath a loose racer-back top with high-waisted leggings completing the uniform. You smiled to yourself at the knowledge that the matching lace underpants to the red bra were safely concealed. Ready to be deployed if needed. When needed. “Nice of you to join us at last.” Loki sneered, projecting his voice as he ran his gaze appraisingly over you both. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Laufeyson” Nat shrugged, stretching her bicep over her chest. “Not everyone walks around in baggy sweatpants all damn day.” She threw Scott a knowing look. His eyes widened at the unexpected barb, pulling out the sides of his sweatpants with a pout before looking to Sam for support. Sam shook his head silently. Loki ignored her, striding forward from the head of the hall towards the group. “A 'Master of Blades." Loki announced theatrically as the mutters grew silent. "While the Captain may have noted this in childish jest, I can assure you it is no mere flippantry. Across these nine realms, my skills with steel are legendary...and it is your privilege to learn from me today.” “Is your boyfriend on his period or something?” Nat whispered, making you cover your mouth to suppress a laugh. “He’s not my boyfriend. God forbid.” you hissed, regaining your composure. “He gets off of this sort of stuff. Lording it over people. He’s a dick.” “Sometimes all they need to be is a dick.” Nat said solemnly, making you press a finger to your mouth to stifle another giggle. She smirked, pressing her lips together. Loki threw you both a scowl. You had been trying not to look at him, knowing that as soon as you did the familiar fizz between your legs would rise; but it was too late. His hair was still in that goddam messy bun, strands falling in thin curls around his jawline. The overhead lighting accentuated every shadow cast by his cheekbones, that fair skin utterly luminous. He wore a tight charcoal gym top that suddenly reminded you of the wetsuit. That fucking wetsuit, you thought; clenching at the memory of it peeling down his chiselled abs. The spandex clung to every curve of his muscles, his biceps perfectly encased beneath the fabric. Only his forearms were visible, the sight of thick veins running beneath his pale skin making saliva well under your tongue. Pristine white straps ran down his chest from over his shoulders, part of a high waisted swordfighting ensemble tight around his midriff. The material ran straight down his hips, snug to the crotch by design. They fell just above the knee, a pair of tight black socks tucked beneath the hem. Perfectly fitted, naturally. How does he look so fucking good in everything, you thought wistfully; watching the flex of his thigh muscles through the white cotton as he stalked towards you. The straps hugged his chest, bound tight. The mental image of riding them down his bare shoulders while you mounted him filled your mind; feeling his cock straining up between your thighs. The material creased at his hips, accentuating the bulge of his obscene manhood with every stride. He stopped, his face inches from yours. “Thank you for returning my relic.” he stated formally, hands clasped behind his back.

You grimaced, regretting letting your irritation boil over with your earlier theatrics. “That’s fine. Shall we?” Loki frowned at your brevity, searching your face before taking his place in the centre of the semi-circle. In a flash of green, a steel blade appeared in his grip. Dulled, of course. He twirled the twenty-four inches of metal fluidly, enjoying the reluctantly impressed faces of the team gathered. Scott ooo’ed. Sam elbowed him in the ribs. Loki held the sword in front of his face, hands clasped around the hilt; splitting the symmetrical perfection in two. Only one side was smiling. “My first wisdom about the sword” he enunciated regally, “is that it’s power comes from the force of your core.” He looked at you as he said it, sending chills shuddering through the base of your leggings. “The blade is an extension of your body. You direct it. Master it. You do not follow it.” He began to pace, swinging the sword theatrically. Each slice made a cutting whir through the air. “Every strike, every thrust, every stab should be calculated. Each offensive move or defensive counter-strike a graceful, fluid motion. Your impulses must be tamed, so that you are always in control. Dominating, like one would handle a submissive lover.” “God, even his tutorials are sexualised.” you whispered bitterly to Nat. She offered a weak eye-roll. “What was that, Agent?” Loki snapped, his stoic demeanour holding as he rested the blade against his shoulder. You sighed, feeling your adrenaline rise at his confrontation. God, you thought. Imagine him wearing those fucking fencing pants shirtless- “I said, even your tutorials are sexualised. Is that really necessary?” Loki let out a low chuckle, weaving the handle of the blade expertly as he stalked closer. “It is not a question of what is necessary” he hummed, running one long digit along the blade horizontal to his midriff. His eyes followed the finger, until it rested on the dulled tip. “At their basest level, all realms share two passions which are impossible to extinguish. Violence, and...sex.” His long lashes fluttered upwards, making your breath hitch.

“Mastering the art of the blade is inextricable with mastering the art of sex, Agent. One cannot be achieved without the other. At least, not in a manner which will cause any significant lasting impression.” Nat snorted beside you. “And you’ve mastered these arts have you?” you sneered, folding your arms. “You know I have, Agent.” he purred darkly, making your cheeks heat as every gaze fell on you. “But since you seem resistant to my methods of tutelage, let’s have a demonstration shall we?”

You shrugged, ignoring the churning of your stomach and extending your hand in expectation. Loki nodded towards the wall, where twelve immaculately positioned short-swords had appeared resting vertically. You pursed your lips, placidly making your way over and picking one up. You swivelled the blade in your grip, feeling the weight. A pin drop would have echoed. The onlookers stepped back as Loki stalked towards you like a panther on the hunt. A fencing mask appeared in his hand, swinging casually before he threw it to you. You grunted, tossing it to the side before raising your sword. Pretentious Asshole. The straps over his shoulders strained with every calculated, heavy breath; the ropes of thick muscle shifting as he perfected his stance. Suddenly, Loki lunged. A clang of steel resounded around the hall as your blade met his, blocking in a high X that spliced his sharpened features in two. He pushed forwards, making you stumble as you desperately tried to hold your ground. His chin was lowered, smouldering eyes burning into yours as the muscle of his forearm bulged in thick lines. “Defend yourself.” he growled, scraping his blade upwards and pivoting it with a flick of his wrist, immediately going for an underhand strike. You retreated, countering again; steel singing as metal slid to his hilt. “Fuck you, Loki.” you hissed, bringing your free hand up in a fist. He flinched, raising a palm to catch it. You kneed him in the ribs. A low rumble of mirth rippled across the semi-circle around you both. Loki barely reacted. Barely. But it was just enough. You leveraged the weight change, pushing his sword upward and ducking under his arm. The dull tip of your blade met his jugular as you pushed his bicep down with all the force you could muster, edging on the pressure-point of that taut neck you knew he loved sucked. Bet he got it sucked this morning, you thought venomously; panting as a reluctant grin stretched across Loki’s lips. You know he could kill you with one hand if he chose. With his obscenely large thumb, even. For now, it was a hollow victory to be sure. But you would take it. “You found my weak spot, it seems.” he murmured quietly, a knowing smile tugging at his dimples; eyebrows slanted in mock-surrender. “You’re easily distracted.” you panted, pushing away his bicep with a rough shove. There was a ripple of tentative applause as Loki straightened and you made your way back to your spot. Nat nodded approvingly.

“As demonstrated by our colleague here, the force of the blade is not always in its length, sharpness or girth. It is the manner in which it is wielded. With the innate, fierce hostility toward any who would overpower you.” Loki’s chin tilted as he spoke, analysing the effect of his words on those watching. On you. “She was not willing to let me overpower her.” he continued thoughtfully, fingering the edge of the blade. “If I was a mere man, I’d say she may even have succeeded.” “Hey- she did succeed, asshole.” Nat interjected, offering a nudge of solidarity. Loki chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that, Romanoff. A Master of Blades is not easily defeated by such a…” Loki's eyes ran down to your trainers and back to meet your narrowed eyes, tilting his head. “Let’s continue. Pairs. And I shall observe your efforts.” Your nostrils flared, a deep growl simmering in your chest. You were vaguely aware of a tall shadow beginning to loom over you. “My Lady, may I-” “Yes.” you snapped, still glaring at Loki as he slid his sword gracefully into a leather back-holster he had manifested out of thin air. You turned towards Thor, forcing a smile. “It would be my pleasure.” The blonde god’s eyes followed the movement of your lips, before licking his own. “Wonderful.” he rumbled after a pause. As you watched him join the others retrieving blades from the wall, your fingers found their way to the waistband of your leggings, folding them over.

Your eyes flickered back to Loki, swinging his blade fluidly in a series of joined twists and strikes that made your traitorous sex scream with wet, hot need. The next hour was blessedly uneventful; a series of test formations observed by Master Laufeyson as he circled the group like a shark. The relentless clang of metal rang in your ears as Loki’s deep voice reverberated, his sultry commands making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. “Inward cut to downward block, Lang. Upper cut to Alpha. Go harder.” Loki bellowed, the gravitas making a shudder roll down your spine. “Impress me.” he announced sanctimoniously, flicking the curling waves around his face back with a flourish. The dark god left your vision as you side-stepped, waiting for your chance to strike his elder brother. You absent-mindedly twisted the bottom of your baggy t-shirt, balling it at your back and tucking it into the folded leggings. A flash of red lace was visible. Inevitably, your gaze was drawn back to Loki. Standing there with his sword tucked in that ludicrously erotic back-holster. Straps. He’s all straps today; you thought, biting your lip.

That spandex top tucked into the fencing pants did nothing to hide the carved abdomen beneath it; the outline of his cock visible with every measured pace as he observed the team with haughty disdain. The leather of the back-holster was completely out of place and yet...perfectly natural. Loki's triangular shoulders flexed as he paced in a wide circle, condescension at their efforts simmering beneath half-lidded eyes. How you yearned to hook your fingers beneath those leather straps as he fucked you senseless, pulling him tighter. Deeper. Hearing him hiss as the tight skin cut underneath his armpits- “Shit.” you gasped, raising your hand just in time to block an attack from your blonde opponent. Thor snarled, walking you backwards. His wandering eyes travelled down your body, widening as he noticed the flash of red lace rising over your hip like blood in the water. His blade pushed closer to your face, pressing your forearm to your chest. The chill of the steel radiated against your skin as it hovered close to your cheek. “Tonight.” Thor murmured. “Your invitation. I accept.” “My...invitation?” you gasped, as his sword lowered to your throat; your own forced past the point of no return. Thor growled approvingly. “Never fear, I know of your unfortunate liaisons with my brother. It is not the first time a woman has sought the comfort of my mighty cock after being unfulfilled in his bed.” “My-? I..ohgod.” Your sword clattered to the ground as Thor’s hand slid firmly around your waist, pulling your hips towards his. The dulled blade slid down your neck, resting on the curve of your cleavage. You curled your hand in a fist, ready to punch him right in the eye. Suddenly Thor's blade was flicked away from your bosom, cast upwards from his meaty grip like a toothpick by another, larger length of metal. It hit the floor and bounced, rattling. “Brother.” Loki snarled, his sword raised to Thor’s throat; eyes flashing with warning. Gone was the short, more wieldy weapon; and in it’s place a longsword fit for battle. The dark god let his hardened gaze fall on you. “I credited you with more finesse, Agent.” he sneered. “Clearly I was mistaken.” Thor released you, making sure his hand slid lightly over your ass as he did so. You grimaced. “If Ordinances of the Colours do not apply in this realm, brother...then neither does the Covenant of the First Seed.” he said pompously. Loki snorted, tilted his chin to the ceiling with a mirthless chuckle before lowering it once again with renewed malice in his eyes. “Since when did you respect the Covenant of the First Seed, brother?” he spat. “In this realm or in any other.” Thor shrugged. “I see not how it is my fault that you could not satisfy your lovers, Loki.” With a flash of green, another mighty longsword appeared in Loki’s free hand. He flipped the handle effortlessly towards Thor, the implication clear. You suddenly realised that neither were dull blades. Nordic runes were engraved along the shafts, thick grooves running through the centre to ornate golden handles which gleamed garishly under the overhead lights. “Wait I-” you panted, before a hand wrapped around your forearm pulling you backwards. “We can’t do anything, just stay out the way.” Nat muttered, confusion etched across her brow. “Is this about you?” she added quietly, her voice tinged with pride as she watched the scene unfold. The brothers circled each other like feral wolves as the team shrank back warily against the wall. “I don’t know anymore.” you whispered, wondering what the hell you’d just done.

Both lunged at the same time, meeting in a clash of bared teeth and snarls and heavy steel. Thor pressed the blade towards Loki, bending him backwards before your lover kicked his brother’s feet from under him. The blonde hit the ground with a harsh thud, immediately rising to the sound of Loki’s menacing laughter echoing around the high ceiling. It was relentless. A series of nimble twists and strikes from the dark god outmanoeuvring his brother’s lumbering frame as metal struck and vibrated in the air. Strands of Loki’s hair flew wildly, sticking to his forehead as he wielded the weaponry like the master he was. The abject fury on his face had given way to something softer. Mischief, you thought; watching every pop of his thick forearms as he struck repeatedly into Thor’s feeble defence. His elongated thighs lunged with expert precision, the curves of his obscenely toned calves visible through the tight socks with every calculated thrust. Thor was clearly more accustomed to using his fists, the blade forming no more than a rustic barrier to his brother’s rage. Loki dodged his clumsy attempts with ease as the blonde left a trail of destruction through the gym. A chorus of shock rippled among the onlookers with every crunch as Thor’s sword met the wall while Loki spun away - his growls of frustration growing louder. You counted seven holes. Wait...make that eight. Thor lumbered towards his brother, hair swinging as his jaw clenched. Loki smirked, pacing quickly towards him with sword raised before dodging at the last moment and spinning behind. He pinned the edge of the sharp blade to his brother’s neck; a free arm fast around his chest as he rubbed the flat against a pulsating vein. Thor bellowed, his reddened face writhing as he struggled. “Yield.” Loki announced loudly, his voice frighteningly calm. “I will not.” Thor roared, twisting as Loki whispered something in his ear. You watched silently, eyes frantically scanning them as Thor’s brow furrowed in anguish. “Damn you, brother!” he shouted, as Loki released him with a final snarl of victory. Your eyes ran covetously over Loki’s thighs in those tight pants as he swaggered backwards; suddenly realising you had been holding your breath. “What the heck…” Steve’s whine pierced the air. “What is this?” The group turned sheepishly towards him, as Loki moved the sword in a casual, flourishing figure of eight. He raised his arm, sliding the Asgardian steel into the leather holster like a fucking tease. “My brother and I crossed swords, that is all.” he purred innocently, casting a glance towards his heavily breathing sibling still bubbling with silent fury. “Oh is that right?” Steve huffed, putting his hands on his hips as he strutted forwards, observing the piles of plaster littering the gym from Thor’s clumsy combat techniques. “Well you can clear up all this goshdarned mess.” he snipped, poking Loki in the chest. The god smirked, running a hand innocently through his hair. “And don’t think about using magic to tidy the blade depository, Laufeyson. Last time it was an absolute tarnation of a scene in there. Sheaths and daggers and morning-glories all over the heckin’ shop. All out of order from the wallchart, I may add.. which is clearly displayed, thank-you-very-much.”

You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. The thought of Loki arranging the blade depositary by hand was laughable. “Agent, you watch him.” Steve said, waving a hand towards you as he began to strut towards the door. “Make sure he behaves. I know I can count on you.” You stood open mouthed as the team began to assemble a pile of swords on the floor in front of you, mumbling their condolences. You sighed as Loki’s hard bicep brushed against your own. You didn't need to look at him to know that shit-eating grin would be stretched across his infuriatingly handsome face. The scent of heavy leather and tang of his fresh sweat radiating the heat between you made you feel light-headed. “You heard the man, Agent.” he murmured, that velveteen voice sinking into the gusset of your surely ruined panties. “The question is...do you think you have what it takes to make me behave?” There was a heavy pause.

“Inquiring minds wish to know...” he keened, his mirth palpable. “Shut up.” you snapped, as Loki chuckled. “Little does Rogers know that it is you, Agent, who needs to be brought to heel.” he purred, tucking his thumbs under the straps of the fencing pants and running them purposefully downward. He leant to the side when they met the base of the high waistband. His warm breath fanned your cheek; moist lips grazing your earlobe. “And Agent…” he hummed. “I know just where to start.”

Continued in Crossed Swords: To The Hilt Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

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[jerzwriter]

Caught in the Act

A ride to a charity function is just a ride to a charity function, right? Not when the couple in question is the insatiable Carricks. See how a misunderstanding led to a fun-filled escapade. 😉

Thank you to the incomparable @/artbyainna (IG) for capturing this as only she can! God, the look of horror on Casey's face juxtaposed with Tobia's proud little smirk! adfdjfdkfdj!!! I live for this and bow at the feet of my queen!❤️

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish Carrick) Rating: Explicit - 18+ Words: 1,389 Warnings: NSFW, sexual content Summary: Above A/N: Participating in @choicesnovchallenge - Day 22 - Go for a Ride (indeed... lol)

The backseat of the stretch limo was peculiarly quiet. Tobias seated at one end of the long seat while Casey sat perched at the other, doing her best to keep her bare back from falling against the cool, black leather. Though their hands met in the middle, fingers lovingly intertwined, their eyes were focused out of their respective windows. For other couples, this all may be normal, but for them, it felt anything but.

Casey sighed softly, hoping the delicate sound would open a window. But Tobias was lost in his own thoughts and hadn't heard a thing, so the silence lingered. He squeezed her hand tightly as he exited his self-imposed fugue, eyes still focused on the window.

"All right, hon," he grumbled softly, "what did I do?"

Casey's neck flung in his direction, her furrowed brow speaking for itself. "Huh? Why do you think you've done something wrong?"

"You haven't said more than a couple words the whole drive. That's unlike you."

"Me? You haven't been chatty either, and look at you... you're still turned away from me... I thought I did something wrong."

"You?" he replied, finally looking her way. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Casey sighed again; this time, it was filled with relief. "I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself tonight. The truth is, I wish we didn’t have to go to this event.”

“You wish?” he chuckled. “Babe, do you think sucking up to a bunch of donors is what I want to do after a long week? Especially with you...” he paused, teeth sinking into his lip as his eyes slowly trailed her body. “With you looking like that.”

“Looking... looking like this?” She blurted. “You haven’t even looked at me since we left home!”

“Of course I haven’t! If I did, I’d be far too tempted to unravel the back of that dress, watch as it fell to your feet, and do what I really want to tonight... which is you... for hours and hours on end.”

His wife blushed, and the car filled with her delighted little giggles. “Well, that’s much better,” she said, patting his knee.

“So,” he smiled lecherously, “How ‘bout it? I can text Ma, tell her we had an emergency... then we can do... our thing.”

“I’d love to,” she said, her hand running down his cheek as she inched closer. “But this fundraiser is for a worthy cause...”

“Yeah,” he lamented. “Ma’s charity helps an awful lot of kids.”

“It does. And face it, we’re both charming as fuck... we’re good at separating rich folk from their money for a good cause... she needs us.”

His eyes gleamed in acknowledgment. “Damn right, she does.”

Resigned, Casey slunk back, no longer concerned about the goosebumps that erupted over her flesh as her warm skin pressed against the icy leather. “Well, let’s look at it this way. We can watch each other in action all night, just imagining what we’ll be doing after. All I’ll be thinking about is how I’m going to have my way with you once we’re back home.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” he concurred, fingers running through her hair until he gently grasped it at the nape of her neck. Now, her goosebumps had goosebumps. “Only one problem with that scenario.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“It means waiting hours to have you.”

“It would,” she teased. “So, what do you suggest?”

“I suggest this...”

Without another word, he tugged her in his direction. His lips eagerly fell upon hers as his tongue forced them open for a searing kiss. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, and a salacious groan rumbled through her, stoking his desire all the more. His lips pressed harder, a ravenous, breathless kiss as he unlatched his seatbelt.

“Come here,” he gasped, failing to catch his breath.

“There?” Casey asked with a raised brow, her smudged lipstick doing things he couldn't control. She tilted her head toward the front of the limo. “There is a driver there, you know?”

“Of course I do,” he teased. “Come here... live a little.”

“Tobias?” groaned playfully, but he sensed her trepidation.

“You know this isn’t a rental, right? It’s from my family’s fleet.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that divider is truly soundproof... we have total privacy back here.”

Casey glanced at her gold filigree watch. “With no traffic, we should be at the museum in about fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Except there is always traffic in Boston, even if there’s not... I know you’re familiar with the quickie.”

“I am, but... it’s not my favorite way of....”

“Mine either,” he cut her off. “Look, we can still eyefuck all night, dreaming about later... but I might be able to separate rich pricks from their money more easily if I’m a bit... satiated.”

“Hmmm...” she giggled, “so the key to separating rich pricks from their money is satisfying your rich prick before we go in?”

“Baby,” he said, unfastening her seatbelt. “Don’t say go in and expect we’re not doing this.”

Casey hoped the divider was as secure as Tobias had said because a playful holler escaped her as he reached over and pulled her onto his lap. So deftly and with such force, she knew surrender was inescapable. She hissed as his tongue trailed along her skin, from atop her cleavage, up her neck, and settling at her chin. His eyes met hers, an impish grin on his lips. “So, we gonna do this?” he asked as if it were a question.

She had become skilled at removing a bow tie at record speeds, and his was already undone as her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, her hands eagerly running along the planes of his chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he breathed into her ear, his tongue darting out to trace its outer edge, his teeth gripping her lobe with a gruff tug, eliciting a wanton moan as Casey’s hips desperately gyrated against him.

“Undo your pants,” she ordered.

“Gladly,” he smiled as she hiked her skirt.

“We have to make this quick,” she gasped as he lined himself against her soaked center, both groaning in pleasure as she slowly sank down on him.

“Oh, my God...” she panted, his hands holding her waist in place as he thrust deeply inside her. “Oh my... God.”

She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue trailed over her collarbone, never letting up the pace as red-hot passion left them both forgetting where they were. Tobias’s grunts were met with her unladylike moans. With each one that escaped her, he wanted her even more.

“Quick, you say? You don’t seem to be in much of a rush now.”

With a playful glare, she lifted her hips and slammed down against him as a punishment. One he accepted with delight as his head fell back.

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned. “That’s it, make me pay for being an ass.”

With a giggle, Casey happily complied when a loud click made her head turn in horror. She looked like she had spotted a ghost, but Tobias’s face morphed into a cocky grin.

“You ever hear of knocking first, buddy?" he admonished as their driver stood frozen in horror.

“Oh, I... I’m sorry... I thought you heard me announce that....” he diverted his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s nice and all,” Tobias began, “but if you want my forgiveness, close the door and let us finish here.”

Casey turned to him with widened eyes.

“What,” he mocked, “do you want to go inside in this condition?”

“Close the fucking door,” Casey demanded. A loud slam followed, and a grin stretched across Tobias’s face.

“Now, there’s the girl I married.”

“Less talking,” she breathed, her lips enveloping his as she moved quickly against him. “... and more action.”

“I’m all about action,” he chuckled, flipping her onto her back, kissing her long, shapely legs as he wrapped them around his neck. “Let’s finish the job,” he grunted, delighting in the way she unfurled as he thrust inside her. “Then we can go schmooze with smiles on our faces.”

“Ah, fucking for charity,” she panted, her giggles reaching an abrupt halt when he hit that sweet spot. Pleased with himself, he smirked over her.

“You were saying, dear?”

Casey reached behind his neck, gruffly pulling him into a kiss. “Shut up and fuck me, Carrick.”

“With pleasure,” he smiled... wondering if those words would one day grace their headstones.

~~~~~

I imagined they needed a few minutes to look fit for public consumption. But those smiles and their delicately rumpled clothes left little question in the minds of those who knew them best. After emptying donors' pockets, they left the party early... eager to utilize the limo once more before returning home to their little girl. Parenthood was not about to change these two. lol

Thanks for reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @openheartfanart

Tagging others separately.

[tomatoluvr69]

Post-Helene diary 10/16/2024. (As a general warning, lots of talk about death, including children)

Life (in the city at least) is slowly inching back to normal. I’m still out of work. Schools will be closed at least a month, all told. And it’s getting cold. An outlying town a stone’s throw north of the city, where I have a couple friends, got snow last night; one of them slept on our couch. Still no running water, signal is still fucked, and the power goes on and off. But having power is such a luxury, so you can boil the water you bring home and microwave and refrigerate food. Still struggling with morale, but getting more and more able to get out of bed & take care of myself, and forcing myself to be around people when I can, which really helps. Hoping to host a movie night maybe this weekend, we’re all super fried and it’d be nice to gather in a super low-stakes way.

Had a burial yesterday. The man was shrouded, and lowering him into his grave meant touching his body through thin fibers. He died on the third of October, a couple days after the storm, so not a drowning death, but I’m not sure what the cause was. The family was able to be present for this one, and the ceremony moved me, I’m so profoundly honored to have had the opportunity to do this through no merit of my own. It’s good work, to which I feel well-suited. But it’s strange to shovel dirt onto the decedent while his wife and children look on. They were all new to ecoburial, the man hadn’t chosen it the way many in the sanctuary have; it’s what’s called an at-need plot (and folks, WNC is at need right now, lol). You could tell that the informality and wooded surrounds of the setting unsettled them at first, but the way things are done there is far more ancient and meaningful than at a conventional lawn cemetery, with its mandatory cement vaults, embalming fluids, and non-biodegradable casket materials, and we encouraged people come up to lay soil, aerate the first layer with sticks to aid in microbial access, fill in more soil if they wished and lay pine straw over the finished mound for erosion control and seed germination. I believe strongly in ecoburial’s capacity for closure, that seeing the shrouded body be covered, and being involved in digging and closing the grave, or pallbearing/lowering the decedent, can be a powerful way to process death. People used to/still do die at home. People wash their loved ones’ bodies, braid their hair, burn incense over them, sew them into shrouds, lay them out unembalmed and unrefrigerated in their own homes; in 21st century America we are cold strangers to death— everything happens behind steel doors. (Even hearses are outmoded— odds are you’ve driven down the highway next to a Toyota Sienna or somesuch that’s been retrofitted to transport bodies to and from funeral homes, hospitals, mortuaries, crematories, and burial grounds, and you had no idea.) Ecoburial removes this gulf, and I believe it’s especially crucial in the aftermath of the wide-scale death and destruction our region has seen. But the cemetery is tiny, and can only take a sliver of the storm’s dead— only a couple plots remain unsold. The admin was looking at purchasing more land, but the woman at the helm of that drowned with her entire family in a flash flood.

A girl we know works/worked at a mortuary that was along the river— drove by there the other day on my way home, the obliteration is eerie, they were gutting it for demo. Driving near any river right now still has the surreal, gloatingly detached feeling of a soundless dream, especially along roads you took all the time before the flood. The building had been nondescript before, just a medium warehouse looking structure with vinyl siding. But the bodies stored inside went unrefrigerated and were exposed to floodwaters, an aspect of the disaster few people without contacts or experience in deathcare would consider. Imagine the times you’ve been grieving a family member— now imagine phones are off, the mortuary’s been obliterated, and you’re stranded in your building for a week with no information or answers.

Found out about the death of a little boy, first or second grade, who attended one of the schools whose students I work with. He wasn’t my student, just a classmate of some of mine, but I still find myself really broken up over it. He was around the same age as [best friend]’s coworker’s boys, 7 and 9, who drowned in [outlying county], and I know they’re not mine to grieve— but working with so many kids in that exact age range in our community i’m so acutely aware of the caliber of loss. It hits me in these overpowering waves. Nobody in Appalachia knew to fear a hurricane, you know? Life here has shifted tremendously.

After the burial, we ate some cold lunches and a random packet of imported Japanese grape candies, joking grimly and catching up on an out-of-the-way bench near an Iranian woman’s grave and a couple adelgid-ridden hemlocks, where we wouldn’t be heard by the lingering members of the funeral party. Then, donned chaps and ear pro/eye pro to buck a bunch of trees downed by the storm around the land. I like chainsawing, but I lost a ton of physical strength after my ribcage fracture this summer, and I definitely feel it when doing manual labor. The difference is palpable. But bucking is easy, it requires no brainpower, and my friends just told me which trees to cut, while they worried about tension and felling. But both burials and saw work is quite physical and my stamina is beyond shot— definitely felt it today. And I got fucking DOMS in my back!!!!???? lmao. Hung low most of the morning because my volunteer childcare thing got canceled— it stormed, of all fucking things.

It’s getting cold. It’ll dip below freezing tomorrow night, and my window’s still out; I may sleep on the couch in the living room, which sucks, but I’m gripped by severe fear for all the people in the region who have nowhere to go; when I drove with my friend through his neighborhood in Swannanoa we saw families whose prefab/mobile homes got swept down the river, gone forever and destroyed, camped out in tents along the riverbank. Tens of thousands are still lacking power and gas to heat their homes— we are in the south, but we are up in the highest mountains in the entire eastern US. People will be unable to clean themselves because washcloth baths will be untenable in the cold. People will freeze to death in their homes, tents, and cars. It just feels like wave after wave of horror keeps hitting the region. Even though life begins to be bearable for those of us in the city— groceries, internet! Showers at the YMCA!— you cannot enjoy it amid the destruction. It’s a really weird feeling to be one of the lucky ones. Just sheer dumb luck. There’s no wrapping your head around it, when old classmates lost family and watched as their homes were swept away, their farm animals drowned. Survivor’s guilt is fucking insane. It’s really insane.

Though I’m worried about what two months’ rent and utilities is gonna be like without any work, my morale is slowly ratcheting upwards. Three of my friends are leaving the city forever in the upcoming weeks, which is a tremendous blow. One of my favorite haunts, the indie cinema in the river arts district, was obliterated beyond repair— I nearly cried seeing those photos. I’ll be stuck watching Joker and Beetlejuice sequels at the fucking Cinemark forever now I guess. And the Blue Ridge Parkway, where I went to run and camp and drive and picnic, is closed indefinitely. But I believe that many of my other frequent haunts will come back, unless, like many of the businesses dependent on a tourist economy in the height of leaf season, they crumble financially. But the tiny little cinema is a huge loss. We fucking adored that place. And you could tell it was the product of its owners’ passion and love, and filled with character, quirk, and charm. Truly no idea how different life here will be over the next months and years. Definitely altered— but how much? I can’t imagine living in Marshall, or having a studio in the RAD, or working in Swannanoa. Again, I’m so lucky. But it’s gonna be a really hard couple of months and years here.

The long and short of it is that life is getting easier for some of us, myself included, and though the trauma is at times genuinely incapacitating— I feel as though I am crawling towards feeling better. Being able to shower and launder my clothing in my own home will be huge, but still weeks away by the sound of things. I’m really wary of the coming months but cautiously optimistic— I am starting to feel alive again, and enjoy things, and think about things that aren’t potable water access, and the drowned. But it will take time to recover. To give some context, to Americans at least— think of what would need to happen for your public schools to shutter for an entire month, county wide (I don’t know much at this point about the surrounding counties’ schools, some will start earlier, some are still fucked indefinitely). All that being said, though, it is beginning to get easier. And I have people to lean on, and the capacity to hold up others when they lean on me. My home is intact and I have shelves full of food, and a stovetop to cook it on. And I watched a movie a few days ago! We’re crawling out of it bitches.

Ok, I have to go haul flush water now, lmao, time to drive my reeking whip around to a bunch of ramshackle old baptist churches in the area to see which ones still have big unmanned water totes in their parking lots. How does it feel to help a member of the LGBT community!!!!!!

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

About the election and modern society’s woes -

First off, I don’t really know what to think about Joe Biden dropping out of the election. His speech was lackluster, n I wasn’t blown away by but it didn’t feel like it made the world crash around me either.

Sadly, so many folks out there can only think two ways u either love or hate something. This goes for Biden too. They think if I hate trump, i sump to automatically worship Biden. There’s no in between. It floors me that this lack of logic exists. These folks cannot fathom that u can simply be ok with a person. He’s ok to me. He didn’t do anything super mind blowing impressive, but he’s not bad either.

Now, getting back to the election - so many others thought differently. Ok, fine. Whatever. The next problem is, what will u replace him with? Will that be enough to save us from another 4 years of the tyrant? This is our REAL concern. I’ve heard folks celebrating Biden dropping out, but they celebrate too early. I’m not going to celebrate Biden dropping out, because that doesn’t concern me. I do feel he was forced, but I also wish him well. Whatever, this is less important to me.

IM AFRAID OF WHAT WE MAY WIND UP WITH.

At the same time, society (especially on the left admittedly - and I say this being a liberal, because godforbid ur critical of ur own….wing or whatever - ) is filled with -

And whilst this is definitely true, for most folks, that’s it. That’s all they can comprehend, all they can see in the argument, and it becomes a competition. If only it were that simple. Sadly these generalisations are equally dangerous. They employ the same attitude as the ‘there’s no in between’. This is the excuse folks apply when u r uncomfortable with immodesty. They right away think that u want folks covered head to toe in a burqua. (They’d b shocked to learn that some of us r fine with sleeveless tops n shorts, as long as they r like 6 inches above the knee, n tits, bellies, n genitals r covered!) There’s no asking or clarify, no willingness to listen to ur explanation. I get branded racist, misogynist, homophobic, or even worse, because they need to project. U hit a sore spot that they can’t handle. This goes for either side - not just liberal, not just conservative. The truth is that there is often more to the story. Not all women are innocent. Not all r guilty. Not all men r innocent, nor are all guilty either. I’m going to say this louder for those in the back -

ANY GENDER CAN COME INTO POWER AND ABUSE IT.

There has been in increase in a certain petty completion between sexes for ages now, n I’ve seen in for several decades already. One side is like ‘we’re the best n that’s it. They give flimsy, misguided, or sometimes no reasoning behind this. The other then reacts with the same tactics. It makes everyone look foolish. Neither side thinks of common sense nor respect. It’s a very entitled, privileged, and damn right delusional way to think. It’s sadly also an increasing sign of the times. It’s not new, but it’s definitely not going away, and becomes a more mainstream way to think. We ALL need to change for the better. Thank you for coming to me ted talk. Here’s Gordon lol

[ladydeadpoolismyspiritanimal]

Copied from Reddit

A Community Project to Celebrate a Year of r/OnlyFangsBG3

Hello to our lovely community of darlings, blood bags, and precious little Bhaal babes! As you may remember from last week, your hardworking mod team is in the process of putting together a little project to celebrate our one-year anniversary. We wanted to give ourselves a tiny head start (and, yes, maybe drum up some curiosity!) but we are now ready to announce that…

# We Are Assembling an Astarion Coloring Book!

The community we’ve assembled here is so incredibly talented in such an amazing variety of ways, and we thought this could be a fun way for our creative folks to get to come together and share that talent. ~~And. I mean, yes, *some* of us are slightly sad that we don’t have artistic skill but still want to make pretty pictures of the pretty vampire, *okay??*~~

We are currently looking for visual artists to help us by donating their original line art featuring Astarion, which other members of the sub can then color in whatever media they choose and share with all of us! **If you are willing, please send us your submission no later than September 23, 2024.**

While we are soliciting this art, we will be promoting a selection of charities that Neil publicly supports (more on those in a minute). No money will be going through us at any time, we will only be encouraging you all to donate to the charities directly. If you wish, you can then send us (redacted!!) receipts so that we can get a tally of how much the sub has raised and celebrate our community with some altruism. We won’t be requiring anyone to donate in order to get access to the coloring book, just encouraging donations to those causes on his behalf. At the end of the event, our sub’s birthday (September 30), we will share how much we raised and release a link to the compiled coloring book.

Anyway. That’s what we’re looking to accomplish!

## Requirements

* You are welcome to send us line art from an existing work, or create something new for the event. As long as the art is your own original work, you’re good to go.

* You may create line art by tracing or using filters on your own screenshots. If you use someone else’s screenshot, you must get their permission and credit them appropriately.

* Line art only, please!

* No AI artwork will be accepted.

* Artwork must contain Astarion; otherwise, please feel free to chase your muse. NSFW is fine, solo, M/M, M/F, multiple, the whole tadpole crew, Batstarion, comic panels, whatever floats your boat.

* Feel free to submit as much as you’d like! Depending on the volume of submissions, we may have to narrow things down a bit, but we will make sure that all contributors are represented in the final product.

* Include your name or handle in the bottom left corner. Those posting colored versions of these pages will be required to leave this legible (or rewritten elsewhere on the page) or they will be taken down.

* If you are not a frequent poster on the sub, we may do a bit of extra vetting to try to confirm that the work is your own. Please understand that this is us doing our due diligence to protect artists’ hard work and has nothing to do with you as an individual.

## How to Submit / File Info

If you would like to participate, you may submit your art in a few different ways. You can send an email to onlyfangsbg3@gmail.com with the attached image. Or you can send us a [modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=r/OnlyFangsbg3) and include a link to your art on Tumblr, Twitter, Imgur, or other platform that your image is hosted on.

As for file types, please submit them as something lossless - so no crunchy jpegs or anything. Types such as PNG, TIFF, SVG (hell even BMP if you can find space to host it lmao) will do splendidly.

For size, we are hoping to stick to "standard letter" sizes - either US Letter (8.5x11 inches), or A4 (21.0x29.7cm). We figure those sizes make the most sense for a coloring book project!

## What Charities Can You Donate to?

We’ve picked two charities from a handful that were listed on Neil’s Twitch channel that you can donate to. These two were picked just to narrow down the choices a bit for simplicity’s sake, but if any of the other ones speak to you, we won’t stop you from donating to them! The ones we’ve selected are:

* [The Red Card](https://www.theredcard.org/) - “Show Racism the Red Card (SRtRC) is the UK’s leading anti-racism educational charity.”

* [Black Lives Matter](https://blacklivesmatter.com/) - “Black Lives Matter Foundation is an abolition-centered foundation fighting institutional injustice and serving Black people globally.” (US-based)

From Neil’s Twitch page

> Please have a look at these charities- Be an ally. Do your bit.

> I am. My family are. We all can.

> Support, move, scream and keep the momentum to help even in small ways like this.

As stated earlier, there’s no requirement to donate to receive the completed coloring book at the end of the sub’s anniversary event; it just seems like a very nice way that we can show our support for Neil and our community! If you do donate, please send us a [modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=r/OnlyFangsbg3) with your receipt (blur out any personal information, of course) showing the total you donated. We will tally these up through September 29 and announce the grand total we raised for these charities on September 30th.

## Using the Coloring Book Pages

We’d love it if you shared what you did with the coloring book with the community! Whether you print it out and paint it by hand, color it digitally, use colored pencils, or whatever else your heart comes up with, we’d love to see! We will create a new flair for this purpose as we get closer to The Big Day.

That being said, be sure to credit the original artist! Any posts made with these images that fail to credit the original, or remove the artist's name/signature from the image, **will be removed**. Don't try to pass this off elsewhere as your original work.

## Spread the Word!

Do you know any artists, either friends or via patreon discords, that might be interested in participating? Then please (politely, gently!) see if they want to join in!

##tl;dr

* Send us line art by September 23

* Donate to charities and send us receipts by September 29

* We will release the full coloring book and the total we raised on September 30

* Share your beautiful pages, being sure to credit the original artists

Bonus Angel screenshot that I feel like has some meme potential

[takashi-tuesday]

takashi tuesday #7

“I promise you’ll love it.” Shiro assured as they started up a dirt path.

“The way you described it sounds a lot like camping, so no, I don’t think I will.” His fiance responded, not an ounce of enthusiasm in his tone. Shiro only laughed, rolling his eyes.

“You won't be helping our reputation as nerds if you keep. avoiding the sun like the plague.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment. Adam didn’t seem to care whatsoever. “You’re yet to tell me why I had to be dragged out here too.” They were on an incline, a more than bumpy ride, but the road evened out again as they entered a densely wooded area. “Look, we’re getting close.” He skillfully deflected, or at least attempted to. “Kashi.” Adam said cooly, staring out the window. “He really likes you, Adam! I think it’ll be a positive memory if it’s with people he actually likes being around.” Shiro explained, glancing at a sleeping Keith in his rear view mirror. “He likes you too.”

He tried not to sigh but it felt like this was going to be a fight every time, he always seemed to have something to argue about when it came to Keith. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as his brow furrowed. “I don’t get what the issue is, you’re not this upset about having to camp,” He nervously glanced towards him. “..Are you?” He asked, just in case. Adam made a noise which sounded amused but he was facing away so Shiro could only assume. “No, I don’t care about the trip, Kashi, I’m worried about you.” Shiro could feel where this conversation was going, Adam’s voice was too soft but had an edge to it. Like he was treading on paper thin ice, careful.

As juvenile as it was, he couldn’t help but feel a little offended. He’s not a child, he can handle the full truth without an inch thick sugar coating.

He considered his reaction, maybe that’s why he was treading lightly. “Look, I don’t dislike the kid-” “Keith.” He corrected. Adam softened with a muted sigh, he had turned to face him now. “You know I have nothing against Keith, he’s a child in an extremely unfair situation, of course I feel bad for him.” The edge felt more like a cliff over a canyon now. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at what he knew was coming. “And I think it’s so kind, understanding and patient of you to take him under your wing and all that.” He couldn’t even allow himself to preen at the praise, he felt sick.

“But.” Shiro started for him, sounding slightly wounded. “But.” Adam continued, reaching across the console to place a hand on his forearm, rubbing his thumb across the wispy hairs. “We’re not his parents,” He instinctively glanced into the rearview, Keith was still asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. He looked so young curled up in the backseat, he looked his age and Shiro ached. “I know his foster family isn’t the best.” Adam began. “Not the best doesn’t even begin to scrape the surface.” Shiro laughed dryly.

“I know he’s given the bare necessities, no attention or affection. He has no one to turn to, but this isn’t as simple as taking in some stray you found. Keith is a child, a human child and they’re so much more than letting them stay up past 12 and letting them have ice cream for dinner.” 

He knew this, he knew Keith wasn’t a stray cat, no matter how much he acted like one. But Adam’s voice was sickeningly sweet, it was almost nauseating but he knew he wouldn’t hear it any other way. It would be convincing but no convincing was needed, he knew he was right. 

“I’m not saying don’t do nice things with him, I think he needs someone like you right now.” He reached up to squeeze his shoulder. “But I don’t want him to get attached to someone who might not be able to stick around.” 

Adam leaned over the middle console to kiss Shiro’s temple. “It wouldn’t do either of you any favors."

The rest of the ride up was quiet. -- Hiya folks! Welcome back and welcome to a new series.. I mentioned it last week and here it is. I know this part was a little angsty but it does get more light-hearted, trust! The Moon's Farthest Point is still ongoing and I will be updating both, so don't worry if you're here for that! But please let me know what you think of this. :) See you all next week, and as always: Happy Takashi Tuesday!

[shayshaybiscuit25]

I no longer support white celebs or people//

How do people not realize this is basically birthing hatred in your own heart. It makes one no better than the people they claim to hate. All white people aren’t the problem, majority, to the point racism is still ramped, yes, but to blindly go around claiming to not like or support every single white person based on the actions of others makes you seem childish asf anon. I get mad at racist, not all white people.

I suggest you go to you local library and take a deep dive in history, if it weren’t for certain white advocates even in small numbers, a lot of risked their lives along with our black leaders, a lot of things would not have occurred nor improved.

Go learn about the White Panther party.

I get so tired of people looking at things on the internet and basing conclusions without realizing you obviously know very little about our history let alone the world to make a baseless statement like that,even reading this you’re probably thinking I’m “standing up for the white man” 🙄

Some of you need to learn what’s happened. I know things are bad now, but sweetheart they’ve been worse they’ve also at one point were amazing. Many of you weren’t born to know there were three beautiful decades where black folks THRIVED!! We everywhere, music, tv, etc. We were and forever will be IT! ✨ unfortunately racist and some black people who chose money over the betterment of our people (Hi BET 🖕🏾), shut that down and now we have the entertainment industry as you all know it now. This is why many of us that you all think are “haters” say music, tv and movies aren’t the same. We had multiple talented black women across genres, not just one or two. We had every skin tone represented. Many of you truly don’t understand how y’all fall for some of the most mediocre stuff nowadays yet call it “talent”.

The standard has dropped significantly to the point everyone and their mama are getting famous now.

I may sound like a prude, but the over sexualization of black women ain’t it. They are trying to have our young girls and immature grown women thinking certain types of behavior and attire is appropriate when it’s not. No one is saying cover up head to toe, but many do not understand there’s a time and place for things. Most of our celebs are focused on money and not the influence they are putting out there. It’s all going to blow up eventually. We went from artist standing up and using their talents and platforms to better our community, go listen to L-Boogie “That Thing”, and listen to the lyrics. Nina Simone, BillieHoliday, etc to now where people can say a basic quote that sounds nice and people automatically label them an advocate. Don’t even get me started on various white artists using black artist to boost their careers or eras. (Miley Cyrus now claims to be embarrassed by her Bangerz era, yet claimed back then that was her authentic self, stop letting people use us)

I understand the times change, but said change isn’t always good. We’re still being used in ways many can’t comprehend.

Idol worship is seen as “normal”. People really be out here worshipping other humans who mock God, yet claim to be “Christian”, I don’t care if someone claims to “love” God with their mouth, actions speak louder than words. Too many baby Christians out here getting easily influenced because they lack knowledge of HIS word. I’m serious, people better stop playing with God and making excuses for their actions. God don’t play that. He shows us love, grace and mercy, yes, but putting demonic affiliation in music videos, calling God the n-word, Calling God out his name in general, mocking him, etc.

Showing every single inch of their bodies and trying to claim it’s for expression or women rights, nah you can love you and be sexy without doing all that. There’s a reason the black women of the 70s, 80s and 90s were top tier, sometimes less is indeed more.

Just because someone is rich and famous doesn’t mean they are “blessed” by God. People don’t think Satan will be crafty enough to have you believing you’re doing great, not realizing lukewarm Christianity is not good. God will spit them out of his mouth.

Don’t allow these entertainers have any of you out here drifting away from God all because you love your fav. These music artist today display the darkness right in front of us all, but get praised. Go watch the videos of early 2010s to now and tell me they haven’t gotten darker and more revealing in various ways.

Y’all stay blessed and just keep your eyes and hearts open. Developing the gift of discernment is a true blessing. People think because we’re saved we can do anything, but God knows all. We speak in love and truth. His word is Truth.

Oh wowwwwww

Anon to Anon.

[mothdogs]

⭐️ 10 Comfort Movies ⭐️

(Tagged by @thequeerestdad ! Thanks! Also no particular order on these)

1. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home - I mean, it’s the one with the whales, how could I not include it? It’s just so feel-good. The found family, the now-vintage sets and clothing, the humor, the environmentalist message—you can really feel the love that Leonard Nimoy put into directing this movie. ♥️

2. The Emperor’s New Groove - Of any movie, this one reminds me of childhood good times with my younger brothers, laying on the carpet before the tiny tv in our den and rewinding the VHS as we watched this over and over. I can still recite every line.

3. Galaxy Quest - God I love this movie. The best non-Star Trek Star Trek there is. Even though he’s a shithead IRL, I feel very warmly about Tim Allen’s characters due to growing up watching Home Improvement and The Santa Clause with my pops. This movie has such a sweet core that it never loses sight of and was clearly made by people who love the genre and actors they’re teasing.

4. Zoolander - Idiotic humor at its finest. You just can’t help but root for Derek 😭 Also quote this one constantly with my bestie.

5. Howl’s Moving Castle - This is my and my partner’s go-to comfort movie for when we’re feeling ill or stressed. Sophie’s world and the inside of the castle are designed with such care, and I love watching Howl and Sophie connect and grow together.

6. The Secret World of Arietty - My favorite Ghibli film. Arietty’s story constantly delights me with its details, colors, and characters. And though the course of most of the story is sad, I love its hopeful ending.

7. Fried Green Tomatoes - As a true-blooded southerner, this one just reminds me of my roots. The accents are so cozy. I love Idgie and Ruth and the beautiful little life they build together. Kathy Bates is a delight here too.

8. O Brother, Where Art Thou? - The soundtrack of this movie has been one of my mainstays for damn near 10 years now. I first watched it during a classics class in undergrad where we compared it to the Odyssey. Those were good times in my life that I like remembering.

9. Star Trek 2009 - Jokes about lens flares aside, I will always appreciate this movie. It was my introduction to Star Trek and one of the first things I bonded over with people who are now some of my closest friends. Chris Pine as Kirk is my golden boy forever, I love him so much 🥺

10. The Silence of the Lambs - Cozy in a way that feels like coming home after a long day and putting my feet up. I must have watched it a dozen times by now. Despite the horrific subject matter, I love every inch and angle of this movie. Clarice and Hannibal are some of my favorite characters in fiction.

Gonna tag some folks! Feel free to ignore - @blissandbookstores @likesirensinthenight @sunnibits @egirlgarak @lilydvoratrelundar

[etf12546-sw]

Interracial Dating Guide #dating

Bless and Release.

Hello, I’m Jay Ramal, a 36-year-old man with roots in northern India and a hint of Middle Eastern heritage.

Standing at 5 feet 11 inches with an athletic build, I’ve journeyed through life as a passionate yogi, a dedicated affiliate marketer in the dating niche, and an interracial dating coach. Before we dive into the heart of this guide on interracial dating and marriage, let me tell you a bit more about myself.

Unlike some of our other videos, this one is audio-only. So, close your eyes, sit back, and let your imagination do the work.

I’ve had the unique experience of dating women from 28 different nationalities. You’d think the differences would be striking, wouldn’t you? Women from lands far from the homeland of my ancestors, with appearances vastly different from mine.

And yet, in many cases, I discovered striking similarities in how we were wired psychologically. Sometimes, without even talking about it, we just understood each other.

Some women shared common words, up to 20 percent, with my native languages and Sanskrit. This included women from the Middle East and Eastern Europe, creating a bond that transcended borders.

It’s a fascinating experience. If you’ve had something similar, please share it in the comments below.

Now, my passion lies in staying fit and healthy and helping others navigate the often complex world of relationships. That’s why I started WealthyLoveWell.com—to guide folks through the dating market, especially when it comes to dating across cultures.

I was born in the USA but eventually found my way to Australia, where I met my wife, an Australian woman of white Anglo-Saxon descent.

I’ve always held progressive and liberal views. I’m not particularly religious, though I grew up in a Roman Catholic family with very Westernized values.

My love for meeting women from all races and cultures stems from a genuine excitement for learning and experiencing life from different perspectives. You could say I’ve been a serial interracial dater.

And in 2024, I took one of those DNA tests—you know the type. It turns out I’m not just Indian. I’ve got a little bit of Middle Eastern and Northern European (Viking heritage) mixed in there, too. It’s a small world.

This revelation got me thinking about the concept of interracial dating. It’s not just an idea; it’s a practical reality of life on this tiny blue planet. As Carl Sagan once said, we live on a “mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.” Our geographical differences are so small that we’re practically living on top of each other on the scale of the universe.

Yet, despite our genetic similarities, cultural differences can sometimes make us feel like we’re worlds apart. We differ in how we process emotions, facts, political views, family values, and our sense of right and wrong. In many ways, we think more differently than we look.

So, I’ve put together a checklist for interracial dating and marriage. It’s drawn from my own experiences dating women from 28 different nationalities. Keep in mind that this is based on my journey, and your experience may differ. That’s okay. The goal here is to help you navigate and ensure that your dating journey leads to a fulfilling relationship, possibly even marriage, if that’s what you aim for.

Before we dive in, I’d appreciate your support. If you could, hit the like and subscribe buttons, and share this content with anyone who might benefit from it.

Now, let’s begin with the checklist.

Number 1 on the list is the “herd instinct.”

If you’re dating someone from a culture like Indian, Italian, Greek, Spanish, Middle Eastern, Eastern European, Latin American, or Pacific Islander, you might come across this phenomenon. Feel free to add more examples in the comments if you wish.

This herd instinct is something I know all too well. It’s the sense of belonging, the need to stay close to one’s family and community. When you date someone with this instinct, you’re not just dating them but their entire family.

If Nona or Abuela welcomes you, you’re quickly accepted as part of the herd, one of their own. As Dominic Toretto said in “Fast & Furious 8,” “For family.”

I find dating people from these cultures highly relatable to my own experience. Often, their extended families live nearby, and there are regular family gatherings, grand dinners, and birthday parties almost every Saturday. Attendance? Almost mandatory. People in these communities draw energy, comfort, and solace from being close to their herd, which is beautiful. Isn’t it?

If you come from a different background, you might find it hard to influence your partner to move away to another state or country. And even if they do, they may still long to rejoin the herd together at some point in your life. This can create tension in your relationship or marriage.

So, if you’re dating someone from these cultures and you have plans to move away, know that it could cause friction. Be kind and upfront. It’s unfair to expect someone to change who they are to please you.

Ask the serious question—are they willing to move away, knowing they may not see their family every week or join the herd regularly? If your date or partner is unsure or seems unconvincing in keeping you, “bless and release” may be the most unselfish thing to do.

Or you must be willing to join, like that dude from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” who joined the big Greek family and went along for the ride. If you are willing to fully immerse yourself in their culture, this is a good sign to continue the relationship.

Number 2 – The sacred cow issue.

If you have dated an Indian, Middle Eastern, Black, Hispanic, Spanish, Russian, or Italian person, and you happen not to get along with their mother or grandmother, you may have said something disparaging, like calling them a cow in an argument with your partner, and shortly after found yourself being dumped or your marriage ended.

For the above cultures, the mother is the sacred cow. You must be willing to handle disputes with kindness and tact, even if she is wrong. Therefore, if you do not think you can handle matters tactfully and calmly in a sacred manner, it is better to “bless and release” them or not get into relationships with people who hold their mothers in the same light as the sacred cow.

Save yourself and them from future tensions, or again, I say, bless and release.

#dating #interracialdating

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