#wonder if I’ll get hazard pay?

[usafphantom2]

#OTD in 1960, U.S. Air Force Capt. Joseph W. Kittinger made a record-setting high-altitude parachute jump, stepping from a balloon-supported gondola at 102,800 feet. The record would stand for over 50 years. Read more from the #ASQ article: s.si.edu/3NTeIqE

@airandspace via X

[seventh-district]

man. get ghosted once or twice and you’ll forever and ever feel like the most annoying, over-talkative, toxic sludge of a person that ever walked the earth

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 2

It started on a Friday, Danny finished adjusting his uniform as he peered into the mirror in the bathroom his family shared.  Mr. Wayne had been very generous to offer Danny a scholarship to Gotham Academy. He was determined to do his best but, part of him wondered if he was only offered it so Damian would have a friend that attended the same school as him.

 Putting the finishing touches on his uniform and trying to calm down his unruly hair, Danny walked out of the bathroom to hear chatter coming from the kitchen. This caused him to hesitate, Jazz and he decided not to ask Damian or Tim over yet. The state of the house was a bit messy considering it was left to two teenagers to pick up after the four of them. They just didn’t have the time, the both of them were focusing on their own fields of study and avoiding their parents by spending time at Wayne manor. 

So the fact that there was chatter meant one thing, his parents were up from the basement. He didn’t dislike interacting with them but… somehow every conversation with them ended up with an hour-long lecture about how dangerous ghosts were and how Danny and Jazz were to call them immediately if they ever spotted one, as if they’d actually pick up the phone. Danny was starting to believe that ghosts didn’t exist at all. 

He took a deep breath after grabbing his messenger bag from his room and entered the kitchen.

Just as he thought his parents were up from the lab and astonishingly they sat at the table. They were eating breakfast together with Jazz almost like they were a normal family. The sight unnerved Danny but he took his spot at the table, pouring himself a bowl of cereal as Jazz had done. Neither of them trusted anything that their parents would have cooked, most of it ended up with Danny and Jazz having stained or torn uniforms. 

They hated asking Mr. Wayne for anything, and even though he left a credit card for either Danny or Jazz to use, neither of them did. Jazz managed their finances, Mom was too busy to cook or go to the store most times so Jazz handled it and Danny made sure at least the bathroom and kitchen were cleaned up enough. It probably shouldn’t have worked, especially leaving two teenagers to look after the finances, but it did.

“Danno, my boy!!” The loud boisterous voice of his Dad startled him out of that train of thought, “we’ve got a surprise for the two of you!”

Jazz and Danny shared a look, nothing good ever came from one of their parents ‘surprises’.

“Your Father and I completed our-“ before Mom could finish, Dad interrupted loudly.

“THE PORTAL!!” he smiled like he was a toddler in a candy store for the first time.

Jazz and Danny shared a look again, sure they were happy for their parents, but they were also worried about the possible hazards.

Their Mom cleared her throat before continuing, “I get you kids have school, just hurry straight home when you’re off! We’ll turn it on when you’re both home.” She finished her explanation with a big smile.

Danny could hardly believe it, they had been working on it for years. He was a little scared what exactly it meant if it worked but that didn’t matter at the moment. He continued eating and Jazz spoke up, “t-that’s great Mom, Dad,” she spared a glance at Danny but continued when he didn’t speak up but ate another mouthful of cereal, “Uh, well, our ride should be here soon, I’ll meet you outside little brother.” She quickly put her dishes in the dishwasher and headed outside after grabbing her coat and backpack. 

Danny quickly followed after their parents went downstairs probably to tinker with another project after the portal.

Jazz was waiting on the porch after putting on her coat, they both knew how prompt Mr. Pennyworth was and that it wouldn’t take long for him to arrive. It didn’t take long for them to pile in after he arrived. The trip to the school was short, Jazz and Tim were caught up in a conversion about some essay, Danny tried to pay attention to the conversion but his mind kept wandering to the portal and what it meant for his family now that it’s done. 

Damian seemed to notice his fidgeting, “Danny? What troubles you? Is it Dash again?” Damian cracked his knuckles as he seethed the bully’s name. Danny was often bullied by Dash for being in his words ‘a charity case’ since Mr. Wayne paid his tuition, and he recently started bullying Danny for what his parents did since word somehow got out after neither of his parents showed up for parent teacher conferences.

Danny shook his head, “no, sorry, I’m just a little worried about a few things going on at home,” Jazz looked up at this and the two shared a look. Neither of them discussed what they’d tell the brothers about the portal. Jazz eventually nodded subtly and Danny took that as the go ahead to continue. He nervously licked his lips before speaking again, “well… our parents finally finished the portal.”

Damian and Tim shared a look at this, “have they attempted to turn it on yet?” Damian asked after a moment.

“Uh, no actually, they wanted to wait until we got home from school,” Danny shrugged.

“Would you like Damian and I to stay out in the car and wait for it all to be over so we can go back to being normal back at the mansion.” Tim suggested with a light chuckle, none of them thought that it’d actually work.

Having an easy escape route after whatever craziness the portal was bound to cause sounded comforting. Danny nodded a little, “I’d like that, how about you Jazz?”

“Your not leaving me alone with them!” She cried and the two giggled.

Soon though they pulled up to the school and Danny sighed, he had a day to get through.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [33] - Stinging Nettle

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: The hours before an important ball can be very tense.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Though attending parties hadn’t been a habit of yours up until you got married, you’d grown quite fond of them fast. Maybe it was the entertaining conversations, the company of your friends, drinks, or perhaps the overall free atmosphere that one could not have at a ball but now that you were here, you were now beginning to realize how much you had missed it.

“You seem to be in deep thought.”

Your head shot up and you turned around to see Lord Easton at the entrance of the balcony you were standing in. You smiled at him, then lifted the glass in your hand a bit, the chatter and the music coming from inside reaching the balcony as well.

“I may have drunk a bit too much,” you admitted. “Wanted to get some fresh air.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” you said and he closed the balcony door behind him, then approached you as you turned again to watch the beautiful view under the night sky. He placed his glass on the marble railing of the balcony and you stole a look at him.

“They’re having some sort of a sketching competition back in there.”

“Oh I saw it,” he said. “I think I will sit that one out.”

“You don’t want to practice?” you joked and he chuckled.

“I probably should, now that you mention it.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “I mean who else should practice if not the famed artist with thousands of admirers and many credits to his name?”

“No one is ever too good to practice,” he told you. “Especially an artist.”

You thought for a moment, then turned to him.

“Lord Easton—”

“Gordon,” he corrected you. “Your husband is a good friend of mine, and I consider you and I friends as well.��

You smiled slightly.

“Very well,” you said. “May I ask a favor of you, Gordon?”

“Of course.”

“My aunt is throwing a ball tomorrow,” you said. “And if you dropped by even for a short time, it would make her very happy. Not to mention the ton admires you so much and…you know how it goes.”

He smiled and bowed his head slightly.

“It would be my honor and privilege,” he said, making you beam.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

A giggle escaped from your lips.

“Oh thank you!” you said. “She will be so happy. I’ll um— I’ll send you the invitation tomorrow?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “And there’s no need to thank me, I assure you.”

You sipped your drink, then stole a look at him.

“Does it ever tire you?”

“Attending balls?”

“No, the…” you motioned with your hands. “The attention from the ton, all the time.”

He hummed, reaching out to grab his glass to swirl the drink in it.

“Occupational hazard,” he said with a smile, making you laugh. “I mean it has its moments. I don’t mind it most of the time, balls are a way of socializing for example so that’s expected, but sometimes when I’m by myself on the street, I simply want to observe the crowd in quiet.”

“I could never be an artist,” you said, shaking your head and he raised his brows.

“You don’t enjoy attention?”

“I hate it,” you admitted. “I experienced it when I first debuted, with the suitors and such and I’m just…It’s not for me.”

“You might have to get used to some attention though,” he said, making you frown.

“How so?”

“Have you seen your husband’s works?” he joked. “Once he gets into the Academy and people start seeing how talented he is…”

“Benedict is good with all that,” you said. “No issues there, people already pay lots of attention to him, he’s used to that.”

“You’re his ultimate inspiration,” he reminded you. “People will be curious about you as well.”

You paused for a second, then shrugged your shoulders.

“That’s different than being an artist,” you said, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and turned your head to check out what was happening inside. They seemed to have finished with their competition judging by the familiar faces in the room, so you nodded in the direction of the room.

“I’ll go back inside,” you said. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” he said and you clinked your glass with his, then made your way back inside. Your gaze fell on Benedict and Margery who were having a conversation at the corner of the room and your stomach did an unpleasant flip, but you shook your head at yourself and made your way to them. Margery cleared her throat when she saw you out of the corner of her eye and gave Benedict a warning look but it was gone so fast that you couldn’t even decide whether you had actually seen it before Benedict turned his head.

“Hello darling,” he said, but his soft tone did nothing to soothe the insecurity shooting through you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you asked, making Benedict shake his head. “Because I can just—”

“Oh you’re not interrupting anything,” Margery said with a laugh. “I was just giving Benedict a hard time because he had the audacity to badmouth Byron’s poetry in front of me.”  

Benedict made a face. “I cannot believe you actually like his poetry.”

Margery heaved a sigh and turned to you.

“I give up,” she announced, making the corners of your lips twitch. “I’m going to need more drinks, excuse me.”  

She walked away from you both and you pursed your lips together, then looked up at Benedict.

“Are you sure I didn’t interrupt?”

“Not at all,” he assured you with a small grin and entwined his fingers with yours, making your heart skip a beat. “Are you having fun?”

“I am, and I kind of missed it actually,” you admitted. “Coming to parties and such.”

“Did you?”

You nodded. “One would think you’re a bad influence, you hedonist artist.”

He gave you that lopsided grin. “Me, a bad influence?” he asked. “You’re the one with the knife.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yes but you’re the one with the debauchery.”

“Fair point,” he said and you repressed a laugh.

“Who won the sketching competition by the way?”

“Felix,” he said. “Lucy gave him full points.”

“Of course she did,” you said, stealing a look at Lucy who was now talking to Margery. “So Byron hm?”

“Huh?” Benedict asked before frowned. “Oh yeah! Margery admires his lines a lot for some reason.”

“Right,” you said, that uncomfortable feeling twisting at your stomach again but before you could say anything else, Benedict pulled at your hand gently.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you the winning sketch, Felix is very proud of it.”

                                           *

You and Benedict had returned home around dawn and Benedict had an appointment with Gordon in the morning and Anthony in the afternoon, so by the time you woke up, he had already left home to meet Gordon. You had asked to take your breakfast in the drawing room as you tried to decide what the best time would be to drop by your uncle’s home before tonight’s ball to see if they needed any help.

Perhaps afternoon?

You sipped your tea while reading your book and as you bit into your toast, Paula entered the drawing room.

“Ma’am, Miss Harlowe is here.”

“Oh?” you said, putting down your toast and dusted the crumbs off your hands before standing up. Lottie stepped into the drawing room and made her way to you to pull you into a hug.

“Good morning!”

“Hello there,” you said with a smile and pulled back to look at her. “You look happy.”

“I am happy!” she said. “I have news for you.”

“That’s wonderful!” you said “Paula, can you bring Lottie some biscuits and tea?”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and walked out of the room, and you and Lottie sat down on the sofa.

“What’s the good news?” you asked and she squealed, shifting her weight.

“I wanted to tell you before the ball tonight,” she said. “And Tony will tell Benny and Colin this afternoon but I couldn’t wait until then.”

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“We’re getting married!” she exclaimed and your eyes widened, a gasp getting caught in your throat.

“What?!”

“Yes and we will tell the rest of the family tonight—”

“Wh-how?!” you asked as a happy laugh escaped from your lips and you hugged her. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“You must tell me everything from the beginning,” you said as you pulled back. “How did he ask? When did he ask?”

An abashed look crossed her face and she cleared her throat.

“Well, um…” she said, nibbling on her lip. “It’s sort of—you must first promise me you will never tell anyone.”

“Of course I will not,” you assured her as a maid walked in with a tray of biscuits and tea. You thanked her, and watched her walk away before turning to Lottie. “Tell me.”

“A week ago.”

“A week ago?!” you asked. “And you didn’t tell me? Wait, is this payback for—”

“No no, it isn’t!” she cut you off. “Of course not.”

“Then?”

She took a deep breath, then sipped her tea.

“Do you remember how Tony and I left Bess’s ball early?”

You tilted your head. “Yes.”

“Well we wanted to talk more you see, and I’m very familiar with sneaking into Bridgerton House because I used to do that a lot when I was little, and everyone was either asleep or at the ball,” she said, making you raise your brows. “And we…we did talk.”

A small smirk pulled at your lips.

“Oh?” you asked. “You sneaked into his house just to talk?”

She repressed a smile. “At first yes.”

“Then?”

“You and I had a conversation earlier that day,” she said, shyness apparent in her tone. “And you said that it felt divine, and I already knew Anthony and I are in love, and…”

Your jaw dropped and you let out a laugh.

“Oh wow.”

“And then he asked me to marry him.”

Alright, this was official; you were the only one who wasn’t consummating her marriage.

“But a week ago?” you asked, trying to focus. “You’ve been engaged for a week and neither of you told—”

“It was my idea,” she said. “I asked him to wait for a week.”

“Why?”

“Well…” she heaved a sigh. “I wanted to tell all of you yes, but Colin was still very heartbroken over what happened with Miss Marina and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings accidentally. You know, first Benny, then Daphne, now Tony finding love and not Colin, at least yet.”  

You stared at her, warmth filling your chest. “You waited for a week so that Colin wouldn’t feel bad?”

She nodded.

“He’s like a brother to me,” she said. “We all grew up together.”

You reached out to squeeze her hand. “Oh Lottie…”

“But we will tell our families tonight!” she said. “And Tony will tell them beforehand, and I’m telling you now.”

“I’m glad you are,” you said with a laugh. “Well I’m so happy for you! I told you he would propose within the season.”

“I still cannot believe it,” she said. “I’m the happiest person in the world.”

You grinned at her.

“And I take it your night was divine?”

She gasped, a giggle escaping from her lips. “Y/N!”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. “I mean you’re marrying him so—”

“It was more than divine,” she said, biting on her lip in embarrassment. “It was perfect.”

Oh well, you were going to take her word for it.

Hers and Daphne’s and your aunt’s and Benedict’s, to be more specific. Considering everyone else had experienced it but you, you could only believe them instead of seeing it for yourself.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you said, a smile warming your face and she shifted on the sofa.

“The ton will not be very nice, I think,” she said. “They weren’t nice when they thought Benny and I were in courtship, or when I was in actual courtship with Tony, and now that we’re engaged, I can’t help but think—”

“Lottie,” you interrupted her. “What the ton thinks does not matter at all. Let them speak, they do little else anyway.”

She nodded slowly.

“I just…” she trailed off. “I just wish they knew how in love we are.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“They will,” you said. “Never mind them. Now, tell me what you’re planning for the wedding.”

                                          *

By the time Benedict got back home from his meeting with Gordon, it was nearly noon and Lottie had already left. You had promised her you would be her maid of honor and help her with everything concerning the wedding, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited for it. Lottie had asked for your help with her wedding bouquet and the flowers for the wedding breakfast, and you were trying to come up with different combinations when you heard a knock on the door and lifted your head to see Benedict.

“Oh hello,” you said, closing your notebook before he could see the flower arrangement ideas you were writing down. He gave you a happy smile.

“Hey,” he said and stepped inside. “Working on something?”

“Maybe,” you said with a smirk. “Scared I will become your artistic rival?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you,” he teased, making you giggle. He walked towards you to fling himself on the sofa next to you, then reached out to grab a biscuit from the plate on the small coffee table.

“How is Gordon?”

“He’s fine,” he said. “I think he’s working on a painting. The gala should be fun.”

“The gala?” you asked. “They hold galas for only one painting?”

“When it’s the painting of that big of an artist, yes.”

“Are you looking forward to your own galas?” you asked, making him grin.

“Let me get one painting into the Academy first, and we’ll build from there,” he replied and you shot him a look.

“I’ll remind this to you on your gala,” you mused and tilted your head. “I’m assuming I will be invited?”

“You’ll be the guest of honor,” he told you and you let out a laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“How about you?” he asked. “How was your day?”

“Rather interesting,” you said. “Are you meeting Anthony and Colin after this?”

He nodded, biting into his biscuit.

“Apparently Anthony has something he wants to say to us.”

“Wonder what that might be,” you muttered, trying to keep a straight face. Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows?” he said. “And you? Any plans before the ball tonight?”

“I’ll visit auntie to see if she needs any help before people arrive,” you said. “I’ll get back around the evening, get dressed here and then we can go together.”

“Do you need any help before that?”

You bit back a smirk. “I can handle auntie,” you said. “Besides, I think today will be hectic enough for you.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said and he narrowed his eyes, his whole attention on you.

“Wait, what do you know?”

“Nothing at all,” you said, feigning innocence. “It’s merely a hunch. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be on your way anyway?        “

A chuckle climbed up his throat. “Are you trying to get rid of me, dear wife?”

Your jaw dropped.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I’m just saying, Anthony isn’t exactly known for his endless patience.”

He popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. “He should learn, I heard people say it’s a virtue.”

“Oh is that so?” you said with a huff of laughter spilling from your lips. “You know a lot about patience then?”

“Is this the part you call me the ton’s horizontal refreshment again?”

“If you’re going to claim to be a patient person, yes,” you pointed out, making him clutch at his chest as if he was heartbroken.

“Ouch,” he said. “I am a patient person.”

“You are the perfect picture of hedonism, that’s what you are.”

“Well hedonism is a bit of a—”

“Drinking, partying,” you said, counting with your fingers. “Being very intimate with a lot of ladies…”

The tips of his ears went pink and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know what, you’re probably right,” he said after a pause. “I shouldn’t keep Anthony waiting.”

“You’re going to avoid this conversation just like that?”

“Judging by how our earlier conversations on this went, I’m taking my leave before you ask me—”

“Before I ask you how exactly it was like during those parties?”

“That yes,” he pointed out and pushed himself off of the sofa as you repressed a laugh. He leaned in to kiss the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat.

“See you in the evening,” he murmured and walked out of the room. You were painfully aware of the smile on your face, and you dragged the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip before you heaved a sigh and slipped a little on the sofa, leaning your head back.

                                       *

You knew that Teddy had stayed at Josie and Andrew’s house last night because your uncle’s house was absolute chaos because of the upcoming ball, people working day and night. Not only that, the last you heard Andrew was letting him ride his pony inside the house so you were quite certain Teddy had no issues with the preparations of the ball.  

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he began insisting on staying there half of the week to be honest.

With the way your aunt had been working to make this ball perfect, you could only hope that everything would go well tonight. Almost everyone you knew was going to be there, so you were sure that it was going to be fun.

Now all you had to do was to convince your aunt of that.

The carriage stopped in front of the house and you made your way past the gate, but instead of going into the house you figured you could check on your garden first. So you passed by the house to reach the backyard, then tilted your head when you saw your aunt there, talking to the gardener.

“Auntie?” you called out and she turned around, a look of surprise flashing over her face.

“Y/N my dear!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed any help before tonight,” you answered. “And to see the garden while I’m at it.”

“Oh that’s sweet of you,” she said and came to hug you, then pulled back to look at you better. “No need for that, almost all the preparations are finished.”

“In that case, can I see the ballroom?” you asked with a laugh. “I’m curious, you’ve been working on it for so long.”

She hesitated for a moment, then waved a hand in the air. “What would be the surprise then?”

You huhed.

“That’s fair,” you said. “Anyways, I have a surprise guest for the ball, you will lose your mind when you see him and so will the ton—”

“Y/N, perhaps you should go home and get some rest,” your aunt cut you off almost in a distracted manner. “It’ll be a long night tonight, you know?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright auntie?”

“…Of course,” she said after a pause. “Just—you know, preparing a ball is rather stressful.”

“I can imagine,” you said. “One of the many reasons why I will never throw a ball I think.”

She smiled at you, but it faded when her eyes found something over your shoulder. You pulled your brows into a frown and turned around to follow her line of sight, but as soon as you did, you froze. You could feel your whole body stiffening, your heart leaping to your throat as you stared at the familiar face who had the audacity to smile at you, that throbbing pain in your wrist coming back in full force.

“I hear congratulations are in order?”

You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but somehow you managed to speak through frozen lips.

“Hello father.”

Chapter 34

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

My first DC fanfic! More specifically a Jason Todd fic. (Jason Todd/Reader)

English is not my first language! So if there's any mistake please be kind and let me know.

You can also find it in AO3.

Chapter 2

You’ve always wondered what it would be like to live inside the stories that you read on books and see on TV, what it would be like to be a medieval princess, a pirate exploring all seas, the girlfriend of a certain vigilante/crime lord that has you reading fanfiction after fanfiction about him. But what happens when one day you wake up in an unknown city, in an unknown cave filled with bats and a kid with a domino mask looking intently at you?

You’ve always wondered what it would be like to live inside the stories that you read on books and see on TV, what it would be like to be a medieval princess, a pirate exploring all seas, the girlfriend of a certain vigilante/crime lord that has you reading fanfiction after fanfiction about him.

Naturally, no matter how much you daydream about those worlds, you always come back to your nice, calm, but sometimes monotonous life.

Many wouldn’t consider a hotel receptionist would make an exciting job, let alone a prestigious one, but you like it. Love it, even, as you’ve had the opportunity to meet a vast array of people from all over the world, some even sharing their life’s stories, as well as leaving you enough time to work on your hobbies.

Of course, you’ve also had to deal with the typical Karens and Darrens that like to create problem after problem all because they never bother to utilize their brains for a second, let alone develop any level of reading comprehension. ‘What do you mean I can’t go swimming? Yes, I read the sign that says the pool’s closed today, but I want to swim’, or ‘Yes, I’m not an idiot, I know the door says breakfast is from seven to ten, but I always eat breakfast at twelve’ or your favorite ‘What do you mean I have to pay for the table that almost killed my children? Well, yes, I know they were jumping on top of it but it’s a serious hazard to have such cheap furniture! An accident waiting to happen!”

Even though at that moment it’s stressful and tiring dealing with them, at the end of the day they added to the list of stories you couldn’t wait to share with your friends every time you met up.

Today however, was a slow day, the constant, heavy downpour in the city making everyone reach their rooms as soon as possible to change their dripping-wet clothes into something warm and comfortable.

“D’you think it’ll stop soon?”

“The rain? Yeah, seems like it.” Joan, your coworker, replied, not looking up from her phone. “It’s not as heavy as it was an hour ago.”

You hoped she was correct, as your shift was about to end and you didn’t want to deal with the headache that it was not only to get a cab in this weather, but one that wouldn’t charge you 200% more than usual.

“So, what are your plans for the weekend?” Joan asked, resting her charging phone on the desk and turning towards you. “Anything exciting? Any dates?” At her last question, she raised her eyebrows consecutively, drawing a chuckle out of you.

“If only.” You snort. “I haven’t had any luck, not even on dating apps. People nowadays just want sex. Quick, done and gone. I’m not saying it’s not nice, but I want something… Real. Someone that can even make grocery shopping exciting, not just a face that I’ll forget in a few weeks.”

“So, you want someone that does not exist, got it.”

Laughing, you gently push her shoulder with your hand, the wheeled chair desk sending her a few centimeters away.

“They do exist.”

“Sure, but just in those stories you read.”

With a pout, you began thinking about the newest fanfiction you’d discovered last night and started binge-reading it, with 56 chapters, and you were already on chapter 39.

A sudden flush crept across your cheeks, embarrassment at being 22 and spending your weekends reading some silly fanfiction instead of going out to have some drinks.

But who could blame you? Whoever SuperWomBat_89 was, they sure were blessed with the writing of an angel, every single word so carefully chosen to convey the poetry their writing was, a story so romantic and profound that had you shedding a lonely tear at remembering people like Jason Todd — your newest hyperfixation —, did not exist.

Besides, it was way better than doing drugs, or kicking old ladies. Or doing drugs while kicking old ladies.

Not to mention, everyone enjoyed their limited time on earth in different ways, remembering that just because you didn’t enjoy the common pastime of your peers didn’t make you a weirdo or a failure.

No matter how many times some of your classmates called you that.

When you stopped disassociating, you took a glance at your phone, the time reading five minutes to six. Standing up from your chair, your eyes examined the weather outside through the glass doors, glad the storm had turned into a light drizzle, nothing your umbrella wouldn’t protect you from.

Bidding goodbye at Joan, you made your way towards the staff room, using the private bathroom to change into something more comfortable to walk home; pants, an oversized sweater and sneakers, walking out the back door.

Usually, you would put on your headphones for your fifteen-minute walk home, but as luck would have it, you’d forgotten to charge them, and not wanting to bother the other pedestrians walking home, you opted for not putting music on the phone speakers, no matter how low the volume was, making you more cognizant of the world around you.

Now, normally you wouldn’t call yourself an idiot. You considered yourself to be quite smart, honestly. Even if most of your actions didn’t seem like it. But you were, promise.

But when a strange light without a seemingly clear source brightened up a whole alleyway, you couldn’t help but get curious and walk towards it, a young, distorted voice coming up from somewhere around it.

“I knew it would work.” The voice said with glee. “B will… This technology…”

You couldn’t make up the rest of the sentence, the sound becoming too warped up for you to understand it. Was this some kind of magic illusion? A hidden camera? But looking all around, you couldn’t spot anything that resembled one, or something that would look out of place in an alley like this.

If someone were to ask you what possessed you to touch the light, you wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer, not even knowing it yourself. But you did it, feeling a warm, tingling sensation traverse your body until everything around you became engulfed in the bright light, including you.

[izgnanik-a]

MerMay GhostSoap 2

// MDNI // read at your own risk //

“They have me on an 8 hour shift surveying a fish tank!” Johnny muttered incredulously the moment he got back home.

His roommate, bless their soul who’d just gotten up for work, was brushing their teeth and humming in bored agreement.

“It’s nothing but darkness in there. And- and the water’s cold! What kind of fish survives cold water?”

His roommate shrugged, spitting into the sink.

“My whole shift, I couldn’t have my phone on me and there was seemingly no one else in the building but one other person at the door. And he and this other guy have it out for me.”

“Why would,” spit, “they have it out for you?” Slurp. Gargle. Spit. “They don’t even know you.”

“Exactly! But they all think that I’m not going to stick around.” Johnny muttered. “They keep saying I’m not going to last long, but I’ll show them.” He huffed in annoyance. “I’ll do it out of spite.”

“To be honest, the whole thing sounds sketchy anyways. They didn’t give you any information. Just put you in a room with a- fish tank?” His roommate furrowed their brow in confusion. “And said nothing else?”

Johnny shrugged.

“I’d quit.”

“They pay for breaks and accommodations. The only reason I’m getting paid cash right now because they said I’d last a week. So it’s standard to see if I stick.”

“Who says?”

“The guys who want me to quit. It’s happened before.”

“That’s fishy.” His roommate pointed at him.

Johnny pointed back. “Rent’s due.”

“I’ll take it.” They rolled their eyes. “But first sign of something illegal and you burn your bridges. I’m not living out of suitcases on the run because you decided to steal government property.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

x

Come night and Johnny was parking in the lot, past the gates, and coming up to the entrance he’d been guided through the day before. He swiped his keycard, given to him at the end of his shift, and stepped through the empty hall.

He wondered if he’d see someone else along the way, or if it’s be another dreary night. He also wondered if he could sneak his phone into the tank room.

“You.” Called a voice from behind MacTavish as he stepped into the break room. He turned, almost expecting to see nothing but a ghost calling to him. But instead, he was greeted by the friendly face of a stranger.

“Hello?” Johnny paused in the doorway. “Can I help you?”

“You’re the new overnight guard.” Said the man, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah? Do I know you?”

The man held his hand out. “No. Kyle Garrick. I work the septic system and tank management.”

Johnny shook his hand, the first inviting person he’d met. “Johnny MacTavish.”

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d come back another day.”

“Haven’t seen reason to turn it down.” Johnny said, moving to his locker, Kyle following, “Though everyone seems to have some bet on me leaving.”

“Don’t take it personal.” Garrick leaned against the lockers with his arms across his chest. “They’ve seen a line of people who didn’t make it past the first night.”

“Hard not to.” Johnny slung his lanyard around his neck as he finished putting his things away.

“Note to keep in mind: don’t keep the lanyard around your neck. It’s a choking hazard.”

Johnny furrowed his brow at Kyle. “A what?”

“It gets caught on things easily. Or worse.” The tone of his voice was eerie, but he refused to speak on it. Garrick showcased his lanyard strapped hanging from his side pocket, unclasped. “Keep it on you, but not around your neck.”

“Noted.” Johnny tucked it into his breast pocket and shut his locker. “Any reason why I’m watching the fish tank anyways? Is it the minister’s secret hobby or something?”

Garrick dropped his arms from his chest. “Not the minister’s. Shepherd’s.” He kept his voice low, as if there were eyes and ears all over. “Best to keep your head on a swivel, yeah?”

“Sure?” Johnny trailed off.

“I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Are you working tonight?”

“I’ve already finished. The tank should be a smidge cleaner. I don’t stay on site much, just clean it out twice a week.” Garrick put his fist out to bump. “Stay safe.”

Johnny met him half way, and watched him head down the hall he’d come up. With even more confusion in mind, he headed towards his hall.

He spotted the same guard from the night previous. “Quiet night?” Johnny snapped his finger guns at him.

The guard said nothing.

Johnny raised his brows and sighed, plucking out his lanyard from his pocket. “Hopefully the shift goes by quick.” He tried at conversation once more.

The guard pressed their keycard to the scanner as Johnny did, and the alarm blared as the steel doors came open.

Giving a mock salute, Johnny stepped inside and moved for the desk as he slung his lanyard around his neck. He glanced back as the door came closed.

As far as he could tell, the tank hadn’t changed one bit. It was still dark and cold, maybe even colder than before. Pressing his hands to the glass, he peered through the dark water. He knocked his knuckles against it, listen and looking for movement.

He shook his head, moving for the coffee maker on the desk and turned on the lamp. He wished there was a radio somewhere, or some form of entertainment besides the surveillance room. He opted to stay out of there, but did glance in there once or twice the previous night.

Coming to stand before the panel of CCTVs, he stared at the individually. One camera was situated outside the steel doors, another in the back corner facing the table. One watched him from the corner of the armored surveillance room, and another pointed directly behind the table and tank. There was a single camera that was new to him.

It was a small room with a short ledge following the wall, leaving a foot of space between the obstacle. Beyond the short ledge was nothing but a black void, within that void reflected the ceiling light, an eerie yellow color splashed onto the surface of stillness. A mesh net hung lazily over to keep the aquatic life from jumping out. The only entrance was a door with the faint, low quality words ‘EMPLOYEE ONLY’. No windows. No emergency exits.

The floors has a sheen of wetness to them, footprints left by its last occupant.

It was another room leading into the tank. It must’ve been a place above it, where Kyle could clean and empty it out. A place where only he had access to.

Johnny wondered if he would ever see what was inside of the tank. He wanted to know what Shepherd was so enthralled by to have so many people watching, waiting for something to happen.

x

Johnny's dinner consisted of a ham and cheese sandwich that was as bland as the night. Tasteless, he didn't even feel like wasting another second eating it. As far as he knew, there wasn't any vending machines on the premises, so he wasn't going to find luck getting another bite.

However, his mind began wandering. Wondering where the other side of the tank could possibly be. He wouldn't necessarily go inside the room, he was just curious, bored out of his mind. He knew going through the doors he'd come through wasn't an option without question.

The only other door in the area was a side door that looked more like a closet than an exit. He proceeded towards it, giving the door a tug harder than he meant to, and it practically fell off it's hinges. He grimaced, looking behind him as if someone were ready to scold him with a wooden spoon in hand.

There was no one. He was safe, for now.

Up ahead of him, past the small door, there was a long hall unlike the room or the building alone. The hall was dark beyond compare, orange bulbs sparsely lit the corridor. Thick piping bordered the wall alongside the tank, giving a gentle heavy hum as he stepped in. He felt the pit of his stomach deepen, an uncanny feeling dwelling in his body as he ventured forward.

He should turn back, right? He should.

He looked back to the sanction of the whitewashed room, and continued into the dark corridor. He moved slowly, hearing droplets of water dollop from the walls and ceiling to the floor like great crashing waves within the pin drop silence. Everything felt amplified — his fear, his mouth breathing, the drips of water, the pipes groaning at his right, and the darkness overcoming his vision as he came to the end of the corridor.

A darkened boiler room sat within.

A flickering light beckoned him to his right, up a skinny metal stairwell. He stared at the ‘EXIT’ sign as he clasped the railing, that dead fishy smell growing stronger here. He gave a nod to himself before peering around the corner of the stairwell, a dirty white door waiting up ahead. A dead bolt latched over.

He was psychotic. He needed this job. He needed to go back to just sitting in his chair and minding his business.

But the door.

The ‘EMPLOYEE ONLY’ door above the tank. He needed to know what Shepherd was having him watch.

“If it’s something illegal, burn my bridges. Move on.” He began chanting to himself as he stepped closer to the door, his heart was pounding in his chest. “First sign of illegal, burn my bridges, move on.” He reached for the latch before turning the knob. “First sign of illegal,” he shoved open the door, “burn my—“

Out before him sat the edge of the tank, the short ledge, and darkness below.

“Fucking hell.”

Captain Search Dog MacTavish was nothing but a drug dog, easily trained to find anything he wanted. Including hidden rooms.

Chalking the spring hinged door open with the latch extended, he felt a nervousness peering into the water below. Slowly he leaned down to press his hands into the ledge, palms soaked instantly, and stared down at his reflection. From above he could actually see that the tank had a reef of dark corals, a small foam of microscopic organisms floating and dipping below into the void.

Around the ledge, assumingly Garrick’s, there were temperature measuring tools, a metal cup, a bucket, gloves, and scrubbing tools. But none of them had been left in the water. Nothing was close enough to even touching the water, but the ledge was wet, and fish guts had been left on the ground beside his feet.

Johnny grimaced but looked back to the water to his reflection. He looked to his mussed hair and collar, running a hand through the remaining length before seeing his reflection ripple. He hadn’t touched the water, and he was sure he couldn’t see any fish. He furrowed his brow, leaning forward.

His image morphed into a paled portrait, sunken in by darkness. His eyes grew darker, wider. It was something of a nightmare that drew him closer. His lanyard touched the surface of the water, distorting him entirely, and before he could pull it — something grabbed hold of it. Something harsh and strong.

The tie snapped before he could fall forward into the bottomless pit, but like a frightened fish, he flopped away. He fell back over the short ledge against the wall, clutching the back of his neck where the lanyard had pressed harshly into his nape. Gasping, he pulled himself up against the wall.

That’s wasn’t normal. There was no fish that had snagged him, no mammalian creature; he inched himself forward carefully to the edge of the tank.

Just below the surface of the water — a face stared back at him.

Frozen in his own body, Johnny watched it slowly fade into the water until it became nothing. And maybe he could’ve shaken it off as a hallucination, maybe he was beyond starving and he was making up things.

He didn’t see a man in the tank.

His lanyard didn’t get snatched off his neck.

He wasn’t going back to that room, no reason at all, just because. No other reason.

x

Next chapter

fic masterlist

[chaoticstrata]

Jonas/Jorgen WIP

No Jonas and Jorgen interaction yet, I'll get to it...eventually. >.>

----------------------------------------------------

Jonas ran his finger along the edge of his glass, half listening to his friend vent about their higher ups. Typical SIS politics and Senators butting their noses in where they weren’t wanted. Same old, same old. He could fall asleep and still know what his fellow agent was talking about. In fact, next his friend was going to bring up the Director pulling a few strings for him.

“...Director managed to get me out of the situation by--”

Called it.

As he tuned out of the conversation again, he refocused his attention to the lonely soul nursing a half-full glass at the bar. Fancy stuff too if Jonas had to hazard a guess. They were drinking either an expensive whiskey or rum, based on the color. Unsurprising since this particular lounge on Coruscant had quite the selection of hard liquor, and none of them cheap--which made Jonas idly wonder how the lone individual could even afford it. Officer or not, their pay couldn’t be that good. 

“Jonas…”

Although, that’s a guess from several feet away, in a dim lounge, with him squinting at the glass.

“Jonas…”

He wondered if--there was a sharp tug on his ear.

“Jonas!”

“Ow, what the fuck, Theron?” the SIS agent exclaimed, turning to glare at his friend as he rubbed his sore ear. “Did you really need to be so rough?”

The brunette rolled his eyes. “You’re not made of glass, you’ll live. Besides, calling your name didn’t get your attention--”

“So you went straight to manhandling?”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Theron asked with a shit-eating grin as he sipped his whiskey.

“Kriffer,” Jonas grumbled, eyes drifting back to the bar.

He felt a slight tinge of annoyance as Theron leaned around him to see what he was looking at. 

“Huh, he’s cute,” he commented, sipping his drink again, “I didn’t think he’d be your type, though.”

“I don’t have a type,” Jonas rolled his eyes before giving Theron a look. “And besides other’s said that about you.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” Theron snorted, relaxing back against his seat. “Are you going to go talk to him, or just ogle him from afar?”

“I’m pretty sure he’d be liable to bite my head off if I tried,” he answered, sipping his drink before pulling his eyes away from the lone patron.

“Ah, so he’s met you already,” the younger man snickered.

Jonas whacked his stomach. “He met me on Nar Shaddaa…where I proceeded to flirt with his commanding officer…”

[maikissed]

the way you come to me at night III

Richarlison x reader

part I part II

I've litteraly made this into a messy multi-chapter story because I have like a thousand ideas and they're better than finishing it lol.

+18

- One year ago -

“Yeah, I can easily beat you at this” he frowned mockingly at Emerson before catching the basketball ball “Won’t give you a head start just because it’s your birthday”

His friend laughed at his comment, getting ready for their little bet, before a small group of people surrounded them out of nowhere. Richarlison staggered as somebody thrown his hand around his shoulders in a harsh manner.

“Yo, y/n is clearly enjoying the party” Marc laughed amused, pointing with his head in the direction of the grand salon.

He needed a moment to spot his friend and his eyes widened slightly when he realised she’s been the one dancing on the big table in the middle of the room. A large group of people around the table was clapping, chanting and whistling, apparently delighted with the little show she’s been putting on. He wondered if she had more than just a couple drinks, seeing as she was rather a timid person, not the one to be the centre of that kind of attention.

“Didn’t know she could move like that” Marc patted his shoulder blade with his hand and he send him a sharp disapproving look before heading in the direction of the enthusiastic gathering, pushing a few people out of the way to get closer.

Even he didn’t know that she could move like that as he watched her swaying her hips to the sides with her hands loosely up, completely absorbed by the heavy tunes of the rap song playing loudly. Good thing she wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“Hey, pretty girl!” he shouted to get her attention and she stopped, sending him a big smile as she finally spotted who called out to her “How about you get down now, huh?”

“Rich! I’ve been looking for you!” she gushed excitedly, reaching out to place her hands on his shoulders.

He grabbed her hips then firmly, helping her getting down. She giggled sweetly and huffed out of breath as he carefully placed her on the floor. 

“I can see you’re having fun” he said sneaking his hand around her waist to keep her steady and she hugged him tightly, standing on her tiptoes.

She looked exhausted in fact, so he noted that she haven’t taken anything more than just a few way too strong drinks.

“Yes, but I’m tired” she muttered “Can you take me home?”

He nodded taking her hand in his.

As soon as they entered the cab she rested her head on his shoulder and started telling him a quite long and messy story about someone spilling a drink on somebody three times in only ten minutes, quickly switching the subject to how she won 20 pounds on arm wrestling bet with some guy. He just left for her 40 minutes and she managed to involve herself in some hazardous initiatives and danced on the table in front of everyone. He shook his head with an amused smirk on, listening to her unexpected stories very attentively. He wondered how much of all this will she remember in the morning and how long will she be whining about how ashamed of herself she was.

She jumped out of the cab as soon as they arrived at the residential and he quickly grabbed her stuff, trying to persuade the driver to wait for him so he can drive back to his place.

“Could you please wait here for a few minutes? I’ll be back shortly, I’ll pay extra for your time” he closed the door before the man could even differ with him.

“You wanna tuck me in in my bed?” she snickered when they entered the lift.

“I’m making sure that you end up in your bed” he countered laughing slightly at her dazed state.

Her eyes glinted with the alcohol haze, pupils dilated widely almost covering the whole iris as she bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. His eyes followed down her neck, wandering around her bare shoulders and chest, her skin glowed admirably and he scolded himself in his thoughts for looking at her like that. He turned his head rapidly when the doors of the lift opened.

“Thank you” she smiled lazily at him when he used her keys to let them in to her flat and he snorted lightly, still amused with her carefree exploits of this night. 

“Alright, let’s get you to bed” he sighed entering the kitchen to take a bottle of water, following her into her bedroom shortly after.

“Do you think Emerson liked the gift?” she called from the bathroom as he sat on the small sofa placed opposite the bed.

“Yeah, he likes his shiny things”

He threw away the man’s jacket that hanged loosely over the armrest of the seat to the other side and exhaled heavily, taking a longer look at the garment. He wiped his face with his hand trying not to give it too much thought right now.

“Good, I hope he does”

He raised his head in the direction her soft voice came from, spotting her standing in the doorframe, wiping her face with a small towel, dressed in a little, sheer nightdress. She never felt too intimidated or discomfited with him owing that they quickly became truly comfortable with each other but the sight in front of his eyes in this moment stupefied him as he took in her whole appearance. Her attire was definitely intended for her boyfriend’s attention only and he shuddered thinking back to that damn jacket hanging from the couch on his left. His hand clenched into a fist on reflex after she disappeared in the bathroom again. He wondered if his uber left already.

“God my head is still spinning” he heard her complain before she turned off the light in the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

He fought to look directly at her face.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” she asked softly out of nowhere, clasping her hands behind her back.

His heart beat faster and he stood up quickly, heading into the bed, grabbing the bedding to pull it back for her to lay down so he didn’t have to look at her so unveiled in front of him. She sent him a playful smirk and sat down, letting him cover her.

“Your couch is very uncomfortable”

“You can sleep with me” she offered quietly, sending him another coy smile.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that” he sat down on the edge, placing the water on the nightstand.

“He’s in a different country” she shrugged watching him intensively.

“That’s still wrong” he concluded “He hates me already”

“I hate sleeping alone” she pouted rising up, moving closer to where he sat, placing her chin on his shoulder “Please?” she whispered leaning back, the cover slipped from her body and he gave in to temptation to take a quick glance down.

His head was spinning, the dress was almost see-through and he brought his eyes back up the moment he found himself staring at her protruding nipples.

She was drunk and all of this was utterly wrong. He should leave and let her sleep to sober up. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were going.

But she appeared closer when he looked back at her face. She placed her hand very gently on top of his knee, as if to not scare him, and exhaled shakily. Her warm breath fanned over his face and he looked down at her beautiful, full lips, feeling himself growing weaker due to her closeness. She smelled sweet, like vanilla and candy and he closed his eyes, letting her get over all of his senses. He furrowed his brows and swallowed hard craving to touch her, claim her, make her all hot and bothered until she couldn’t even think straight. And he wouldn’t even fuck her properly yet. There were so many things he wanted do to her. But it was primal and wicked.

All of a sudden she closed the last distance between them and their lips touched delicately. He tensed, not really knowing what to do. She placed a soft kiss on his mouth and just like that he decided to let her take all control over him. She sensed him giving up and tilted her head to kiss him more firmly and he could feel himself growing more aroused. He was unbelievably hard already. She kept kissing him, not too ferociously but slowly and gently, very tantalizingly and he was loosing himself in her. Her hand still placed on his knee twitched slightly and he sighed at the pleasantly tingling feeling of her palm mildly roaming his thigh. But the moment she palmed him through his pants, moving her hand down and then up along his clothed shaft he went rigid and it awoken him, making him break the kiss and grasp her hand to stop her from going further.

She chased after him when he leaned back, looking at him almost pleadingly with her misty eyes, her mouth slightly ajar and lips red and swollen. Her chest was falling and rising unevenly, one strap of her nightie slipped off her shoulder and she looked so dreamy, so tempting to devour. But he would be taking advantage of her if he let it continue. So he stood up abruptly and she vaguely winced abashed and slightly disappointed.

“Sleep well, y/n” he muttered, his voice hoarse “I’ll see you tomorrow”

He didn’t want to leave her feeling rejected and regretful but it was the right thing to do. She had a boyfriend and they both weren’t in the right state of mind right now. He didn’t want them to act on something that will turn them uncomfortable or even distant the other day.

She proposed to meet for a lunch out the next day. He’s been preparing himself most of the morning for the conversation about what happened between them just a few hours ago but in fact, she didn’t even mention it at all. She acted extremely normal, like nothing happened actually, showing no real signs that it affected her the way it did him. He was trying to fathom if she didn’t really remember anything from last night, but that would be impossible since she wasn’t in a blackout state in the slightest. He should be glad, honestly, but it only made him feel more dejected.

Few days after that unforgettable night she came to him in his dreams for the first time. These tormenting visions seemed so real every single time, it made him bothered and breathless when he woke up overstimulated. He dreamed of kissing her on that bed, letting her touch him however she pleased as she whispered softly into his ear how badly she wanted him to take her. And he answered to her pleas without hesitation, undressing her from her lovely little nightdress she wore just for him, laying her down carefully on the sheets, proceeding to worship her body in the gentlest and sweetest of ways. His mind played tricks on him and he couldn’t escape it.

Two weeks later he found out during a simple conversation that she broke up with her boyfriend and it was confusing at first, since she didn’t mention it right away and most of the times she used to tell him everything. She didn’t really give him a straight answer about the reasoning behind her sudden decision. He worried that he must be the reason of the guilt she might have felt that led her to take such step. He was positive that she regretted what had happened between them, that’s why she never brought this subject up and tried to play it cool. So he tried to forget as well to make sure that their friendship won’t crack because of a momentary lapse. But it was difficult, especially since he started to see her so vivid in his dreams. At first it only happened once in a while but after she moved in with him as he proposed, the dreams intensified. The more time he spent around her, the more he fell in love with her.

[setaripendragon]

Cress - Part 5

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 I think this was probably my favourite part to write, honestly. I did so much unnecessary research into Constantine's family tree to make the timeline make sense. I now have the entire Constantine lineage plotted out in a notebook somewhere. I'm probably never going to use it for anything, but I have it! =D John Constantine does not want to deal with this shit.

John is not having a great day. He’d started it hungover, and then his ex had dropped the spawn off round at his apartment because she had some emergency come up, so he’d been forced to turn down a job of his own. Which was not ideal, given his finances were not in the best of states. Then he’d panicked because Joanna was getting into all his magical tomes and cursed shit, and getting his daughter cursed would just be the rotten cherry on top of the already shitty cake of his life.

So having the doorbell ring out of the fucking blue right when he’s trying to convince the spawn to lie down for a fucking nap is perfectly in line with how this day is going. That is to say; bad. It makes him want to lie face-down on the floor and never get up again. “Right,” he tells Joanna. “You stay there, I’ll be right back.” He says it out of wishful thinking more than any real expectation of her doing what she’d told. She is, after all, his daughter.

He goes and opens the door – because he might as well get the next awful thing over and done with – to find some random bloke on his doorstep. He’s wearing a smart dove grey blazer over a t-shirt and fancy jeans, which makes him look like both a rich businessman and an asshole. It does not endear him to John at all. Neither does the fact that he’s actually kind of handsome when John looks past the rich asshole clothes. “Wot?” he asks, very flatly.

“Uh, are you Constantine?” the guy asks, which is not good. People who ask for him by just his last name are always looking for some kind of magic shit, and John is trying not to do too much magic shit around Joanna. It’s dangerous, for one thing, and also he’d rather his daughter didn’t follow him into this shit line of work.

“Not today,” John says flatly, but then adds, “come back next week,” because he can’t turn the fucker away entirely. He needs the money. Even if rich twats and magic are never a good combo. He’d suggest tomorrow, except Dani didn’t say how long this supposed ‘emergency’ of hers is supposed to last. Better to make it a week.

The man on his doorstep sighs like the delay of a mere week is enough of a disappointment to crush the air from his lungs, his eyes falling closed and shoulders slumping in tired resignation. John’s stupid fucking bleeding heart decides now is a good time to remind him it exists. And he’d been doing such a good job at forgetting it was there, too. “Oh, fucking fine,” he huffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the jamb. “What is it?”

“I’m looking for someone,” the man begins hesitantly, like he’s not sure how best to go on.

John narrows his eyes. “Someone that don’t wanna be found?” he challenges darkly. “Cause I’m gonna need a lot more convincing before I agree to that, mate.”

The man shakes his head quickly. “No, he’s a friend. He missed a date last week, and- Well, I’ve had reason to wonder if he might be in trouble, these last couple of years, and this was the last straw. I just want to make sure he’s okay, that’s all.”

Well… Finding people with magic is generally pretty easy these days, what with most everyone forgetting magic is even a thing that might need to be guarded against. And it’s not usually dangerous to do a quick bit of scrying. At least, not unless you’re trying to peek in on Hell or the Fae Courts or something. So it should be okay to just get this done quick and get paid, even with Joanna in the house.

“I charge an hourly rate plus the cost of any components used in the requested spells, plus hazard pay if whatever you want doing results in potential loss of life or limb,” John informs the guy as a warning, even as he steps back to hold the door open wider; an invitation, just not a verbal one. Just in case.

He crosses the threshold without missing a beat, and none of John’s wards go off, so he’s not possessed or in any kind of magical disguise. Good enough. John herds him into the living room, ignoring the bland reassurances spilling out of the guy’s mouth that money isn’t a problem. As if John hasn’t figured that out for himself, thanks.

Joanna peeks over the back of the couch at them. John raises his eyes to the heavens. “I told you to stay in bed,” he chides. “It’s nap time.”

“No it’s not. It’s work time,” she corrects officiously. “I can help!”

“Sure you can,” John agrees, crouching down in front of the couch to look up at Joanna very seriously. She looks back, wide-eyed and triumphant. “You can help by going and having a nap so you’re not cranky later.”

Joanna scowls fiercely. “I’m not a baby,” she insists.

“No, you’re not. Don’t see what that’s got to do with having a nap. God knows I’d much rather be napping than working, and I’m all grown up and everything.”

“Then you go nap,” Joanna suggests slyly, “and I can do the magic.”

“Not a chance, squirt,” John informs her. “Go on, get. If you’re good and actually get some sleep, I’ll let you see one of the magic books at bedtime, alright? Just one!” he interjects before she can try to wheedle for more.

“Fine,” Joanna sighs, sliding off the couch to stomp back off to the bedroom.

John rolls his eyes again and shoves back to his feet, biting back a groan as his back complains at him. He’s only thirty, for god’s sake, and yet he feels so fucking old. “So, who are we looking for?” John asks as he drops unceremoniously into his favourite armchair, refusing to allow his customer any room to comment on the scene he just saw.

The bloke sits down on the newly vacated couch with a grimace. At first, John thinks he’s just being snotty about the ratty old couch, but then he says “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” in a very sheepish sort of voice, and he realises it’s in answer to the question.

“You don’t know your friend’s name?” he demands. Suddenly, he finds himself wondering exactly how much of that sob story the guy spun back on the doorstep was a lie specifically designed to get him through the door.

“He never told me!” the bloke protests, making a very good show of wounded innocence. “And after the fifth time we met up, it seemed a little rude to ask again.”

To be fair, John has admittedly gotten himself caught in a trap like that a time or two, so it’s not entirely implausible. He’s still not sure he believes it, but… God, he just wants this over and done with so he can get paid, and then maybe go have a nap right alongside Joanna. “Alright. Do you have a photo?” he asks.

The guy shakes his head.

“Some clothes of his?”

He shakes his head harder.

“Anything that’s been on his person?”

He hesitates, thinking, before shaking his head again.

“A lock of hair?”

That one wins him a snort and a very droll look.

“Do you have anything I can try to track him with?” John demands, at the very end of his rope and about two seconds away from being entirely done with this farce.

“I was hoping you would,” this fucking guy replies.

Yeah, John’s done. He stands up, and this fucking guy has the nerve to raise his hands in a placating gesture. “What the fuck is your game?”

“No game,” this fucking guy assures him. “I just assumed that, since you’re in the same business as ol’ Lady Jo, you might have some family stories of him. Maybe some family heirloom he gave her for that job he asked her to do? I honestly don’t know, but I’m grasping at straws here, and you’re the best lead I’ve got.”

“Old Lady Jo?” John echoes, not liking where this is going.

His fucking customer gives him a wary look. “You didn’t know your ancestor liked to muck about with the supernatural, too? She made a bit of a name for herself in the late seventeen hundreds.”

John had known that, actually. It was old stories about her, the ones his dad had passed down to him, that had inspired him to start playing with magic in the first place. And even though sometimes he regretted it more than anything, he’d still apparently had enough awe left in his heart to name his daughter after her.

But most of those stories had been set in the eighteen hundreds. The only one he could think of that was supposed to be that early in her life was the one about how she’d won a boon that set her on her course to make the Constantine name one to remember in the world of the occult.

“You’re looking for the Sandman?” John demands incredulously.

“The-” his customer begins, his eyes going very wide in a look of dawning, and faintly outraged, comprehension.

John snorts before he can help himself. “Jesus, you’re clueless,” he mutters, dropping back down into his chair reluctantly. To his surprise, his customer laughs at the comment instead of getting offended. It wins him a little bit of John’s good will back, but he can hardly dwell on it, because he’s coming to an unfortunate set of realisations of his own. He’s re-examining their whole conversation through this new lens of family history coming back to haunt him, and going cold right down to his fucking bones as the pieces click into place.

After all, it’s mid-July right now and the story of how Lady Joanna met the Sandman said that she’d ambushed him at a meeting with his immortal not-Jewish friend at the beginning of July every century. Hells, it’s the right year, too. And this man called the Sandman friend, and said he’d just recently missed a date, and knew about the job he’d tasked John’s ancestor with.“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m clueless,” he breathes in genuine horror at his own carelessness. “You’re him, aren’t you? The Wandering Jew.”

The asshole rolls his eyes. “I’m not-”

“-Jewish,” John finishes for him. “I know, but it’s not like you’ve introduced yourself, either. This time or the last.”

That gets a blink, and then a burst of startled laughter. “Oh, I’m picking up his bad habits now. Sorry. I’m Robert. Gadling, originally, but it’s Golding right now. My friends call me Hob.” He leans forwards to offer John a hand, which he shakes with a distant sense that this might just be the most normal weird thing to ever happen to him. It’s very surreal. “So, back to the issue at hand; can you find him? I mean, ‘the Sandman’ is more of a title than a name, isn’t it? Would that be enough?”

John can only stare at him helplessly. Gadling – should probably think of him as Golding, he probably wouldn’t appreciate his cover being blown by a careless word – stares back, desperate enough that John’s silence doesn’t even deter him. It’s a bit tragic. This blessed fucking idiot really doesn’t fucking know. The Dream Lord’s infamous immortal companion really is just as clueless as your average mortal moron.

“Mate,” John says, with emphasis enough to make Golding’s face fall. “Everyone’s been looking for the bloody Sandman. No one’s had any fucking luck for the last seventy years. What do you think the sleepy sickness is?”

Golding goes pale.

“Seventy years…?” he breathes in horror.

John nods, feeling pretty bad for the guy who’s just figuring all this out now, instead of having grown up with these facts like John did. Every Constantine from his grandfather down to his daughter knows that the sleepy sickness coincided with the disappearance of the Sandman.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Golding swears, punching the arm of the couch, before pressing that fist to his lips to stifle any further cursing. John personally thinks he’d feel a lot better if he just yelled for a bit, but he does appreciate the restraint, given there’s a – hopefully – sleeping kid in the bedroom just down the hall. Then he drops his hand and fixes John with a look that makes him want to stay very still until the threat passes.

John swallows hard and tries to wait it out, the hard calculations he can see going on behind Golding’s eyes. “Don’t make me regret this, Constantine,” he says direly. John doesn’t answer, because he can’t fucking know if he’s going to regret it, but he’s sure as fuck going to try not to get on this guy’s bad side. Golding is fucking immortal, after all, but John certainly fucking isn’t. “You said,” Golding begins, voice measured and cold, “that you could use a lock of hair to track someone.”

“You implied you didn’t have one,” John replies, just as measured.

“How about blood?”

John stares at this man. “You have the Sandman’s blood?” There’s no way, no possible way that he took it, right? So it had to be a gift. And here John had been thinking the Sandman hadn’t given Golding his name as a matter of trust. Clearly fucking not.

“After a fashion.”

John doesn’t have to be a genius to put that one together. After a fashion. After a fucking fashion. No wonder Golding opened with a fucking threat. John swallows hard and reaches out, fumbling blindly across the side-table for a pack of fags. He really rather desperately needs a smoke right now.

Because if word got out that this man has the Sandman’s fucking child in his keeping… John doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he is doing. It would be a fucking bloodbath. Occultists, magicians, exorcists, the ones with bad intentions and the ones with good – arguably worse, in John’s opinion, the sanctimonious fuckers – they’d all want a piece of this kid. It’s horrifying to think about, and it’s not the worst of it. At least, not for John personally.

Golding saw Joanna.

It doesn’t need to be fucking said that if John puts Golding’s… Ward? Kid? Adoptee? If he puts this kid in danger, Golding would pay him back measure for measure. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, hands trembling as he fails and fails to get his lighter to spark. “Fuck,” he swears, hands dropping. Golding reaches out slowly, gently takes the lighter from his lax, still shaking fingers, and sparks a flame for him.

John fatalistically accepts the help and leans forward to light his fag. He takes a deep drag as he sits back again. “You… you have the-” he tries, but he can’t actually bring himself to say it out loud.

“Yes,” Golding says flatly, turning John’s lighter over and over. “Can you find him?”

John breathes out a cloud of smoke. “I can fucking well try.”

[amberdablade]

💛💙❤~Octavia x GN!Reader~❤💙💛

Hope you enjoy my latest creation!

Requested by: Click the link to find out :3

TW: Swearing, panic attacks.

Y/n’s Pov

       Octavia ran over to you carrying another one of the ugly hats you had found earlier. It was black with green checkered shapes smeared throughout the fabric, and on top of the ugly piece of clothing sprouted four or so purple feathers spreading in all directions.

       “You should try this one on, Y/n!” she called in her accent, “it might complete your look!” You laughed at the owl’s joke and did as she said, looking like a complete dork as you did so.

       You and Octavia were shopping at the cheapest store in all of hell. Everything that was being sold was either ugly pieces of clothing or cheap plastic items filled with hazardous chemicals to make it look sellable. The two of you had been shopping here ever since you were kids, always enjoying the crap people would buy for themselves at such a price. You both rarely bought anything but now and then you two would find something you both loved enough to take home. Today, the green-speckled hat might just be that object.

       You looked at yourself in a nearby mirror. You were already wearing a black cape with velvet red sweats. Adding the hat to the look made you into a complete laughing stock. Octavia giggled at your new appearance.

       “We have got to buy this thing,” she said. You nodded and turned to look at her, her beauty taking your breath away as it always did.

       You liked her. Even though Octavia was your best and only friend, you had fallen head over heels for her ever since you turned fifteen. Now, nearly four years later, you debated whether or not to tell her due to your feelings never ceasing. You would’ve told her a while back, but due to the thought of her rejecting you and losing the bond you two had was enough to make you shy away. Besides, many had confessed their love for her in the past, but all were rejected since they didn’t have true feelings; they were only after the Goetia fame and fortune. You could care less about Octavia being the heir to such a name of power, you loved Octavia for Octavia and nothing more. But why would she believe you? After all, in her eyes, you’d just be another one after her name and not her heart.

       You pushed your thoughts away as she took the hat from your head with a smile.

       “I’ll pay for it this time,” she said, “after all you paid last time. It’s only fair.” You smiled back and nodded again. You walked up to the imp cashier and watched Octavia pay for the item.

       “You’re quiet today, Y/n,” she started, “you doing okay?” You looked her in the eyes hesitantly and nodded once more.

       “Yeah! Sorry, I’ve got my head in the clouds today,” you replied, “didn’t get much sleep last night.” The cashier handed the paid-for hat to Octavia in a plastic bag and wished both of you a good day. Octavia playfully rolled her eyes and chuckled as the two of you made your way out.

       “Totally understandable. Happens to me all the time.” She placed her arm around you causing your heart to skip a beat and led you out of the store. The air outside of the building was cool and refreshing with a slight breeze. The air smelled of cigars and the moon painted with a pentagram shone high above your heads spreading its reddish light down upon Pentagram City.

       “Well, I should probably head home, my mom’s probably upset with the servants for not knowing where I am,” she said, releasing her warm touch from you.

       “I had fun with you, Via,” you replied, trying your best not to sound weird. You were debating whether or not to share your true feelings with her. But just as you were about to speak she asked you something you would’ve never expected.

       “Hey, Y/n, I was wondering if tomorrow night you were free to come hang out? My friend Loona’s hosting a wicked party at her friend’s house tomorrow at 9:00 pm. There’s gonna be food, music, and games and I couldn’t help but ask you to come since I know you’ll make it ten times better than if you weren’t there. If you’re not sure you can always text me later. I-” You didn’t let her finish, the answer was clear as day.

       “Yes, I would love to come!” you blurted. Octavia didn’t seem to mind the interruption when her face lit up with a smile and her feathers ruffled with excitement.

       “Wonderful! Uh… I mean cool,” she said, regaining her normal stature. “I’ll see you then I guess. Bye, Y/n!” You waved in farewell as Octavia walked down the street in the direction of her home, the Goetia palace. You watched her walk away until you couldn’t see her form any longer and sighed.

      “Off to the shelter,” you thought. Unlike the girl of your dreams, you were poor and homeless ever since your parents died when you were eleven. No one was there to take you in, so you made a life of your own living on the streets. Recently however a homeless shelter had taken you in along with your situation. It had been the first time in ages since you had warm meals and a decent place to rest. You never bothered to tell Via about your struggles with survival. She knew about your parents but she just assumed an aunt, uncle, or even a distant cousin had taken you in. She had questioned your ragged clothes and stick-thin appearance before, but you always told her “bad paycheck” or “stomach bug.” She always believed you but after a while, the lies had begun to take a toll on you. “You shouldn’t lie to her,” was one of the many thoughts that consumed your mind as you wandered ‘home.’ “You don’t want her to find out the hard way, it’s not worth such a risk.” You agreed with yourself. Maybe it was time to stop the lying and secret-keeping.

       “Tomorrow night at the party,” you thought, “that’s when I’ll tell her how I truly feel and about my real situation back home.”

Octavia’s Pov

       Octavia was ecstatic that Y/n could come to the party. She adored them to the point of never wanting to leave their side. Parting a few moments ago was enough to leave her heart feeling empty and bring her mood down, especially as the Goetia palace came closer into view. The last thing she wanted to deal with was her mother and the fact that she had been gone nearly all day without excuse.

      “She’s bound to ask a shit ton of questions,” she thought with a sigh. When she arrived at the crystalline doors of the palace, she pulled her hood up from her jacket and tried her best to look unnoticeable. She took a deep breath. “Here we go, let’s just hope she’s not yelling at dad again.” She opened the door and was greeted by the palace’s shine and splendor. She walked through the main entrance and through a few of the corridors as quietly as possible to avoid her mother’s prying curiosity. From the sounds of it, it didn’t seem like her father was home, but that had proven to be wrong many times. Just as she turned around a bend in the hallway nearest to her room, she was met with her mother’s tall fuming form.

       “Well??!” With hands on her hips and feathers ruffled with rage, Stella stared holes into her daughter. “Where the fuck have you been off to today?! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Did you ever stop to think how worried I could’ve been?!”

       “Like fuck you’d care about me,” Octavia shot back, “all you care about is yelling at everyone twenty-four seven.” Stella ignored the disrespectful comment and continued like Via had said nothing.

       “Where have you been?! Hopefully not getting fucked by any of your impish friends like your father!”

       “Shut up! It's none of your business where I was, now leave me alone!” she shouted. Octavia shoved past her mother and bolted to her room. She slammed the door shut and locked it, beginning to feel her eyes burn with tears of hatred. She sat beside her bed and hugged herself into a defensive ball as her mother stomped away. Octavia wiped away the tears in her eyes and pulled out her phone. She opened up the lock screen to find her wallpaper set to her and Y/n drinking smoothies. She smiled at the memory.

       It had been an unnaturally hot day in hell, and the two of you had decided to go out for ice cream. When the shop reported being all out, she had invited you over to her house while her parents were away to make smoothies instead. The servants had made some for both of you and the rest was history.

       Y/n might’ve not realized it at the time, but that was Octavia’s favorite memory.

       She grabbed her headphones and began listening to music, every song reminding her of them. After a while, she fell into a deep sleep with her final thoughts being everything to do with Y/n.

      “I think… I might love them,” was her final thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Y/n’s Pov

       It was the next day and the night of the party. Octavia had texted you the directions for the house and what time she would be there. Butterflies and feelings of anxiousness clouded your thoughts ever so slightly as the time of telling her your feelings grew nearer and nearer. You tried your best not to think about it, but every time you brushed away the thought it only came back, stronger and fiercer. By the time you arrived at the gateway to the house, you were almost dizzy with anxiety. You tried to remain focused and took in a deep breath to soothe your beating heart.

       The house you were standing in front of was not just any house, but a mansion. The outside walls were made of dark oak wood and the third floor was a greenhouse; windows enclosing the roof. Vines of ivy covered the pillars that held up the overhanging portion of the roof in the front. And the garden… the garden was something else. All types of roses, lilacs, and even the flowers of hell littered the front lawn. You couldn’t help but think that Stolas, Octavia’s father who loved to garden, had been here before and played around with it.

       You overcame your awe and walked up the pathway that led to the entrance. As you walked closer, Octavia’s unmistakable form became visible to you standing by the door looking down at her phone.

       “Octavia!” you called out. You saw her lift her head at your voice and smile.

       “Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” You walked up to her, the faint sound of music reaching your ears from the inside of the house. You smiled and looked her in the eyes, nearly getting lost in her beauty (again).  

       “I’m glad I could come,” you said gently. She put her phone away, patted your right shoulder, and turned to knock on the door. About a moment after she knocked, the door opened to reveal a red-eyed hellhound holding a wine bottle. Her face smiled and her white and gray tail began to wag.

       “Octavia!” So glad you could come!” she said. She turned to look at you and eyed you up and down. “I see you brought your date with you.” Your face turned beet red while Octavia slightly blushed.

       “Oh, we’re not dating,” she quickly replied. “This is my friend, Y/n. Y/n, this is Loona.”

       “Sup, Y/n. Nice to meet you,” Loona replied with a smirk. You felt your face return to its normal color.

       “Nice to meet you too, Loona. I’ve heard great things about you.” Loon chuckled.

       “Good to know I’m still liked.” She took a sip from the wine bottle and gestured to come in. “Come on in you two. Refreshments are in the kitchen, food should be to your left if the rest of the hellhounds haven’t eaten it already, the bedrooms are upstairs, and the garden on the roof is free to use if you need fresh air. Completely understandable in this environment.” Octavia thanked Loona as you took in your surroundings.

       The house was in absolute chaos. Hell hounds were practically everywhere, laying on the couch on their phones, tearing up the couch, savagely eating the offered food leaving crumbs and messes everywhere, spilling wine and whiskey, making out in the corners, and screaming the lyrics to the already ear-splitting music. This was practically your least favorite environment ever. You couldn’t stand overstimulation like this for too long, it would begin to drive you crazy and gift you nauseating headaches. You and Octavia were practically the only non-hellhound in the whole party and it brought you a little too far out of your comfort zone.

       You shook your head to clear the fog and the anxiety that was beginning to overcome you. “I need to do this for Octavia,” you thought, “I don’t want her to be disappointed.” Octavia grasped your hand and smiled.

       “So,” she said, “what shall we do first?” The sudden attention nearly overwhelmed you and you took your hand away.

       “I-I need some time alone,” you said in a panic. You tried your best to ignore the noises and yells as you bolted away. You headed towards the only place that Loona said would be quiet: the greenhouse.

Octavia’s Pov

       Y/n’s sudden reaction shocked Octavia. Did she say something, do something wrong? She watched as they ran up the wooden stairs leading to the top floor. The pain in her heart was unmistakable and uncontrollable. She stood in the middle of the living room, frozen. She debated whether to follow them or stay put. She wasn’t sure of what to do in a situation like this. She was usually the one that acted like this, not the other way around. She assumed they were having a panic attack.

       “What do I normally feel like when I’m having a panic attack?” she thought. She sat on one of the couches near a hellhound on his phone as she tried to put herself in Y/n’s situation. She had experienced many panic attacks before, so it wasn’t difficult to imagine what they were going through.

       It was so difficult to concentrate with all the noise, nobody was calm and nobody was quiet.

      “I need somewhere calm to think, maybe I can make this right.” She thought of what Loona had said earlier. “I think I’ll go up to the greenhouse.”

Y/n’s Pov

       You entered through the glass doors of the greenhouse, heart still beating fast and head continuously dizzy.

       “I ruined it, I ruined my chance,” you mumbled between tears. You shut the door behind you and fled to a stone bench near a flowered red palm-like tree.

       The greenhouse was beautiful. Flowers were everywhere, the space was dimly lit while the moon once again shone overhead, adding a luminous glow to the area. A few butterflies flew around the bushes and trees busily attending to the flowers. You rested your head in your hands as more tears came down. You could never be with Octavia, and the time had come to accept that as a fact. It would be pointless to pursue someone as rich and powerful as she was.

       And beautiful.

       You heard the glass door open and the sight that followed. The footsteps sounded familiar to you causing you to lift your head in curiosity. You turned towards the doorway only to find a thick trunk of a tree blocking your view. The source of the footsteps rounded the corner of the tree and the two of you locked eyes.

       It was Octavia. Slouched and teary-eyed just like yourself. A butterfly flew in front of your face.

       “Octavia?”

       “Y/n?” You both stared at one another in silence for what seemed like ages until Octavia ran over to you and hugged you. She snuggled into your neck.

       “I’m sorry about earlier, if it was because of me I promise I won’t ever do it again, I just need you to tell me what I did so I can know and make things right again. Please, whatever it takes to get you back.” The sudden touch and affection shocked you, even her words were enough to keep you stiff. You somehow fought through the nerves, relaxed, and hugged Octavia back.

       “It's…uh... It's okay, Via, I promise you didn’t do anything wrong… I just get stressed in loud environments and I…” Octavia’s eyes met yours. It nearly broke her heart to see her cry like this. Maybe telling her your feelings right now wasn’t the best time…

       “No, I have to do this, I can’t just chicken out now. Not when I’m this close.”

       “Octavia…” you started, “I have to tell you something I-” you paused then took a deep breath, “I love you, Octavia. I’ve loved you for nearly five years now and… Look I promise I don’t love you for your wealth, I love you-” Octavia didn’t let you finish. She interrupted you with a kiss on the lips, causing you to become flustered and a hot mess. She ceased the kiss after a few moments and smiled.

       “That’s good because it would be awkward if I was the only one who had feelings for my best friend.” Her reaction and response filled you to the brim with happiness, all you could do in return was hug her tightly and smile. “We should get out of here,” she continued, “I should’ve never brought you here. How about we go to your house? If that’s alright with you of course.” You sighed and your smile faded.

       “Octavia, I need to be honest with you about something.” You explained to her about your homelessness and what happened after your parents died. Octavia listened with great attention and concern as you rambled on. When you finished she smiled and laughed.

       “Oh, Y/n, why didn’t you tell me this a while ago? You could've lived with me, I have plenty of rooms in the palace, and I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind.” You shrugged.

       “I thought you would be mad at me or something for not telling you,” you responded.

       “Well, I am a little frustrated but I can see where you're coming from. Tell you what, you can come over to my house tonight and hang out with me. Both of my parents are gone and we can watch movies together if you’d like.” You nodded and smiled.

       “That sounds lovely.” You kissed her again and the two of you left for the palace, Octavia’s hand in yours.~

-

Word Count: 3,199

Hope that wasn't too wordy and complicated. I wrote this over the course of about a week and it ended up getting long :|

Cya next time!

[ask-wren-zhang]

Wren,

How are you? Good I hope in light of the whisperings of a sinister bunny on the grounds. As if we don’t have enough out of control animals around here!

Regardless, if this tricky bunny does cross your path do be careful …they seem to have plenty of tricks up their sleeves. Let it be said, I should not want to pull that rabbit out of a hat ….at least not until we know what it’s truly capable of. *.*

*giggles at all of the above*

Otherwise, happy to inform you that I did speak to Demetrius about our Shrub Club endeavors! He’s sent an owl to Professor Weasley just to be safe and has offered to build a greenhouse for us! Isn’t that wonderful?

I’m going to pen @justmagnoliaellistor as well and I can't hardly wait. Seriously. My feet keeping tapping of their own accord in excitement.

Our first order of business may be…Hawthorn properties and Protective spells? Let me know if you have any thoughts!

Please say you’ll be there. I promise I’ll have snacks ready! (I can steal them from the kitchens so let me know if you have any preferences….and also …um that bit WASN’T mentioned to Professor Weasley so we'll keep that between us, but I’m sure no one will notice….right?)

Fern-fully yours,

Theo

As she perches herself on the edge of her hospital bed, Wren rereads the parchment in her hand for the umpteenth time, its contents lost on her every time before she can reach the end. Her mind still swimming with lingering remnants of some very unusual symptoms of the Butterbeer mishap, ranging from the occasional tingling sensations in her ears to vertigo induced hallucinations.

She swears just a moment ago she saw a small dragon with a top hat…

After much trials and tribulations, she eventually absorbs the details of the letter, albeit her head now reeling with what she just absorbed, leaving her more disoriented than before.

“A b-bunny?” Comes a baffled garble, eyes squinting in making sure she reads the word correctly. Wren shakes her head, hoping to clear her head and conjures her quill as well as a nearby spare parchment, hoping to muster up a coherent response. Already she feels another incoming migraine…

~~

Theo,

Apologies for not reaching out sooner - I’m afraid I’ve not been myself as of late: bedridden, in fact, specifically on account of an incident over my latest journey to Hogsmeade.

A bunny, you say? In Hogwarts? So I didn’t imagine it! Did you catch a glimpse of its fur colour? I think it was black! Have you try petting it?

In all seriousness, it may be wise to avoid it for the time being. Ma used to tell me all sorts of hair-raising tales from her homeland, one of which is the Black Rabbit. It evidently foretells an ominous time for those who disregard folk customs.

You had me at snacks! And we get to have our own wee greenhouse!? I see Shrub Club officially is on the go! (Remind me to treat @demetrius-haggarty a Butterbeer!)

Rest assured I’ll be there! And we can venture to the kitchen together, after all I’m known to frequent there quite often. And I promised Feenky to pay her a visit the moment I’m discharged!

Hope to see you soon!

Your fellow Herb Nerd

Wren

P. S. If memory serves me correctly, there are Hawthorne trees situated somewhere just a few miles northwest of Hogwarts. If you have a broom, we can fly over there to test our theories.

P. S. S. I’ll be sure to bring my batch of Wiggenweld potions and Felix Felicis with us, should the situations go…hazardous.

[motownfiction]

third floor

Sam moves out of his parents’ house in October of ‘89. He’s the last of the Doyle siblings to move away. Sadie moved out last year when she got married; Charlie moved out last month for the same reason. And then there’s Sam. Terminal twenty-two-year-old bachelor Sam. He could stay in his childhood bedroom forever. Except he doesn’t want to.

He’s spent the last two years saving up as much money as he can. The only reason he took the marketing job at his dad’s landscaping business was so that he’d make enough to save up for his own place one day. When he left that job for the gig at the record store, Dad was heartbroken. It hurt Sam something awful to see him like that. Head hung low, talking about how he was going to miss him. He meant it, too. Sam and his old man have always gotten on like Han and Chewbacca, Phil and Don before the split. Today, they harmonize “Bye Bye Love” as they move Sam up to his new apartment in the city, on the third floor. Mom’s lagging behind with a very tall floor lamp.

“I don’t understand why you had to move to Detroit proper,” she says as she stumbles into Sam’s new living room, lamp first.

“Just had to,” Sam says. “Better to say I did. Can’t be a suburban rat my whole life, can I?”

His mother makes a face like she just bashed her knee against the coffee table. Maybe she did. Sam can’t say he’s been paying close attention. His father walks around and puts his arm around her.

“Maggie, come on,” he says. “You really don’t want him to stick too close forever, do you?”

Sam watches as his mother frowns. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking, not really, but he thinks he can hazard a guess. Mom left the city when she realized she couldn’t be an actress … when she realized she was pregnant with him (and Sadie, but when she’s worried about her ego, then it’s all about how she got pregnant with Sam). She walks up to him and takes his face in her hand, just like when he was a kid.

“I just gave you all of my talent,” she says. “Mike, didn’t I? Didn’t I just give this boy all of my talent?”

“What talent?” Sam laughs. “I can’t sing. I can’t really act. I think I can dance, but that might be my absurdly high confidence talking.”

Mom tightens her grip on his face once more before letting go.

“You know what talent,” she says.

Sam doesn’t say anything. He knows.

That’s why he’s moving to Detroit proper, after all.

He and his folks get the last of everything in. Before they turn around and head back home, Mom looks around the place and holds in a cry. Sam knows she means it, too. She’s not that great of an actress. That’s why she’s his mom.

“I’m just … what am I supposed to do without a kid in the house?” she asks.

“Eh, Mom, you’ll figure something out,” Sam says. “One-woman shows.”

He motions to his father on the other side of her.

“One-man audiences.”

Mom laughs, and Dad puts his arm around her again. Sam locks his eyes with his father for a little while. He can’t really hear what Dad is thinking, but he swears he can feel what he’s feeling. Pride. Nervousness. Maybe a little guilt. Sam pretends like he doesn’t know what the guilt would be for.

“Oh, Sam,” Mom says. “What am I going to do without you?”

Sam doesn’t say anything. He just wonders. Is this when she’ll finally realize? When she’ll finally realize he was her ally? Sam is pretty sure he understands his mother better than anyone else in his family. More than Dad, more than Sadie, even more than Charlie. Mom is an artist in a way they don’t make artists anymore. He thinks about those old photographs of hers he found when she was ten … how he loved his little mother in them, how he wished he could have known her then. Maybe then she wouldn’t think he was a thief. Maybe then they wouldn’t look at each other like there’s a changing screen between them.

“I don’t know, Mom,” he finally says. “But I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She smiles to keep from crying. Sam knows she means it, too. He did steal her talent, after all.

He looks down at his hands in his new third-floor apartment, and he knows it.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day xxiv!)

[aquil-writes]

The lantern burned out again. Luo reached to open its door and refuel it, but frustration catches him instead. He grips it and holds his arm high, poised to throw it against the ground. It swings, dark, in Luo’s hand.

Three! Three damn times it’s burnt out in one night. It’s scrap! 

Wind whistles across the trail, and the lantern swings anew. Inside, an ember catches light. It’s small, but it’s fighting to fire up again.

With a sigh, he lowers his hand. I should’ve just stayed the night. I’m too tired to be pushing myself like this.

Bruma had kindly offered to let Luo stay the night in a guest suite, the kind of room traveling representatives use. Stupidly, he didn’t take it. He turned down luxury to travel through the night, fighting a busted lantern… Which lights again, after an effort. 

Luo does his best to shake himself awake before continuing. Fendel, where Serus lives, is “only” a few hours away from Bruma’s office, so he has to be close by now. In the dark, though, it’s impossible to tell. All the lantern’s good for is seeing tripping hazards.

“It’s fine,” Luo mutters to himself. “I’ll get there.”

Slowly around him, the trail sputters and the trees thin, eventually widening into a real path. With relief, Luo follows it as the path joins the main road. 

He follows it for some minutes before seeing the lights that mark Fendel’s entrance. The town’s noisy, being nocturnal, but the racket just makes Luo feel even more exhausted.

The watchman guarding the gate waves Luo through before he even gets there. One of the few perks of visiting regularly: no one looks twice at him, even when he clearly doesn’t fit in.

Serus’ house is a short stroll away through Fendel. With the townspeople out it feels like an upside down place, full of energy and life even in the dead of night. Nobody pays Luo much mind as he walks along their cobbled stone streets and twisting alleys. Cats dart across the paths, busy and empty. On the main street through town, all the way to the square, vendors yell and bells ring, marking shops and goods for sale. It would feel normal, save that there’s almost no light. Very few lanterns dot the bustle, but it’s just enough to get around.

At least Serus’ house is easy to spot. It’s a tall, narrow building on the corner, and even from the street Luo can make out a candle in Serus’ bedroom window. Luo tosses a pebble up to it to get Serus’ attention, like he usually does. Serus swings his window open.

“Delivery!” Luo shouts. It doesn’t matter how loud he is here; the whole town’s already awake.

“From you? I think I guessed that already,” Serus says, and closes his window again. A few moments later he opens his door, but Luo doesn’t wait that long. He already has the bouquet in hand when Serus opens the door.

“Bruma gave me this bouquet,” Luo says, handing it over. Serus looks at it in wonder. “They’re violets. I don’t know where they grow but I thought you’d like them.”

“I’ve read about these! I’ve never seen them before though. Thank you!”

As Serus gushes over the bouquet Luo smiles. It was all worth it.

“You’ve read about them? Where do they grow, anyway?” Luo asks, and together they walk into the house. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so tired anymore.

[ludmithjacques]

I’m tired and I’m scared.

I like my job, I enjoy it(as much as one can enjoy toiling endlessly for eight hours towards eternally renewing goals).

But It’s far away, and gas is expensive, and I don’t get paid enough.

I’m part of a union now, because of this job, but the job has been union for a long time, and the pay is still what it is, so the union isn’t doing much as far as my immediate needs are concerned.

I’m going to have to quit and get a different job, a closer job, or one with garbage hours and higher pay and harder work that I will hate inside of a month.

Again.

is this just going to be my life? Working jobs I hate to barely scrape by with rent only to just be... Wasting my time in a chair, too tired to interact with my wife or child in any meaningful way? Destroying my body for pennies?

I’m so fucking tired.

I hate this country, I hate capitalism. hate hate hate

I don’t need to be radicalized by a single event, I am an adult and I have eyes and needs and pains.

I suffer from depression and adhd and maybe even some kind of low-level autism from what tests I’ve taken but medical insurance is so fucking expensive I don’t bother going to a hospital/doctor unless I am in non-joint related agony or actively bleeding from an open wound so I’ll never fucking know now will I?

I can’t afford it. I can’t afford anythign that makes me happy but I buy it anyway and suffer the practical cost of it and I’m so fucking angry and tired and scared that I’m just going to keel over and die one day because I can’t afford to go and questoin something that I should be worried about.

I’m tired of never taking my wife on Dates that are better than ‘grab some fast food and wander through a park and hope some festival we didn’t know about is happening’(which too be fair is something that has happened... often, for us).

I’m tired of never taking my daughter to fun places because they cost a fortune.

I’m tired of looking an HR person in the eyes during an interview and saying ‘Why Yes, getting paid a full ten dollars under what was the living wage two years ago sounds wonderful’ just so I can have money in my pocket.

I’m tired of needing to remember every detail of my life so a government agency can decide if I am despairing hard enough for help.

I’m tired of looking at something new and beautiful and right up my alley and then immediately deciding ‘I don’t really need that’ or ‘boy that’ll be fun to play in six years when it’s popularity has faded enough for it to drop ten dollars in price and maybe go on sale once’.

I’m tired and scared.

I grew up poor without really realizing it because we were lucky to live in my grandpa’s house and he didn’t really charge us more than a very tiny amount in rent just to help with upkeep of the place, and it was in a nice neighborhood so we never looked tv-poor.

I’m a 30 year-old man, married, a father, and I have never lived without aid. I have never even hazarded the thought that I’d be able to live alone, never dared consider the monetary implications of getting a place just for me and my wife that didn’t have at least one other person helping with bills.

I really like my job, I don’t wanna quit.

But this is why I can’t have nice things.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 23rd

Day 23: Gags // Fucking Machine // Erotic Dancing

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Masterbation, mechanical sex machines, offers of payment, voyeurism, mentions of rimming, clitorial stimulation, vaginal penetration

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“What is this?” You frown when the driver actually manhandles the large box through your front door and into the house. You hadn’t ordered anything and no one ever delivered into the house anymore. Not unless a new appliance had been purchased and was set to be installed, and even then you knew about it. 

The truck was nondescript, no logo on the side but you were looking over a very official freight invoice. The dolly’s wheels squeaked and the driver huffs, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “I just deliver and set them up.” He grumbles. “Instructions say to put it in the golden room.” His slightly annoyed eyes seem to hold some kind of judgment as he looks over to you. “Where’s that?” 

Jesus….Dieter must have ordered something. It makes sense now and you can feel the way that your cheeks flame up and your entire body shrinks slightly under the weight of the man’s gaze. “Oh - uh, it’s-” Your hand flaps, vaguely motioning down the hall and you wonder what the fuck he had decided to buy. “I- I need to get the key.” 

“Don’t they all?” He mutters it under his breath but you catch it non the less. Embarrassment burns into your entire being and you want to melt into the floor. Living in Dieter Bravo’s house while he is out of the country shooting a movie should come with emotional hazard pay on top of your generous salary and very nice living arrangements. 

“I don’t- I don’t live here.” You stammer slightly as you go to the kitchen and open the drawer, pulling out the key with the large obnoxious tag on it. Etched into the metal ‘Golden Showers’ is emblazoned in Dieter’s attempt at humor. You didn’t find it all that funny. 

“Just open the room.” You’re sure he doesn’t care. Has probably heard it all, but you are going to fucking kill Dieter when he gets off set and answers your phone calls. If he answers and if he’s sober enough to care. Which isn’t likely. 

It takes you a moment, never opening this door since you’ve been shown the damn room. You know the maid that comes by once a week goes in to dust but you have steered away from the room that Dieter had designed himself. 

Cursing under your breath at the way you fumble with the lock, the handle finally turns and you can’t even look at the man as it swings open, jumping out of the way. “I- I’ll just be in the kitchen if you need anything.” You mumble, fleeing so you don’t have to witness the man’s reaction to the fucking sex room your boss had behind the very average looking door. 

****

Of course he didn’t answer your texts. Although, to be fair, it was around the time that he would be getting done shooting for the day. If they weren’t having to reshoot scene after scene again. He’s called a few times and complained about the script, the dumbass director, the cast, the weird rules they have in place. All while high, so you think it might just be Dieter whining. 

Whatever that delivery man is doing, it’s taking a long time. Still, you don’t want to see the array of toys Dieter has on display, smirking when he told you it was his answer to the 50 Shades of Grey Red Room. Golden paint walls and black display cabinets housing toys of every shape and size, some of them ridiculous and even creature based. Apparently Dieter bought anything and everything that caught his interest. 

You huff to yourself, trying to ignore the sounds of something being unboxed and set up. Whatever it was, it was big, heavy from the grunts and muffled curses you pretend not to hear. Focusing on making a very normal dinner for yourself, or at least get it started to simmer. You had learned that Dieter’s pots and pans - while top quality - were mainly for show. He didn’t cook and you were enjoying using them. 

“I’m done.” You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the man speak, turning to find him in the doorway holding a clipboard with the dolly next to him. You hadn’t even heard him approach while you were cooking down the peppers and onions. “Do you want a demonstration?” 

Even if you were curious, there is no way you would survive having someone explain whatever contraption Dieter ordered so you quickly shake your head. “No, um, I’ll just- I’ll let the owner figure it out when he comes back.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you, but you’re relieved that he just shrugs and hands you the clipboard to sign off on the order. Quickly scrawling your signature on the highlighted line, you don’t even look at the description - it’s not your business. 

“Uh, thanks.” You murmur, starting to walk him towards the front of the house and trying to ignore the way you feel like he’s judging you. It’s not your - whatever it is - and you shouldn’t feel ashamed of that. 

He grunts and when the door is opened and the dolly is outside, he turns to give you a small smirk. “Enjoy.” 

God, you’re going to fucking kill Dieter Bravo. 

****

“It’s there?” You wince, the phone yanked away from your ear at the over enthusiastic burst of noise that comes from the speaker instead of a normal greeting. 

“Hello to you too.” You grumble, cautiously bringing the phone closer. “Yes, it’s here. Even though I don’t know what it is.” 

Dieter tuts and within five seconds there is a beeping on your phone making you look at the screen. He’s FaceTiming you. You roll your eyes but accept it, knowing he will whine and complain if you don’t and you see the excitement in his eyes as he grins at the screen. “Hey sexy, show me.” He demands. 

He’s called you sexy from the first time he met you, actually propositioning  you even though you were there for a fucking job interview. Although it hasn't affected you getting the job, obviously. He had taken your rejection in stride and didn’t hold it over you like some would, but the nickname stuck. 

You let him see your rolled eyes this time, huffing dramatically even though you are already heading to the drawer to pull out the key again, making him snicker as you turn your camera around and he sees the keychain. He can be so immature sometimes but you bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

“So did they show you how it works, I mean, I’ve seen the videos, but they left the instruction manual right? It’s pretty easy, the easiest one.” He rambles, making you wonder what the fuck he had bought. 

When the door swings open, it’s a contest to see who gasps louder, you or Dieter. You think that surprise might push you over the edge but his excitement is clear through the speaker of your phone. 

It’s a fucking machine. You’ve seen one in pornos before, browsing through them and landing on a video that sent you down a rabbit hole of filth. Intimidating looking with differing arms and attachments that are all displayed, your face burns in complete embarrassment at the thought of that man giving you a demonstration of the toy. No wonder he had smirked at you, not believing that this was not yours. 

“Why - Dieter, I don’t-” You don’t finish the statement, completely confused as to why he would buy a fucking machine. 

“Sometimes you just need a tongue in your ass.” Dieter chirps, almost giggly as you keep the phone steady and he looks at the top of the line machine he had purchased when he was high off his ass and tired of jerking off. This thing would do everything he could ever dream of, including sucking his cock - so it had been worth the pricetag. 

That’s a mental image. Especially with the revolving tongues that are on a belt, obviously meant to provide continuous licking against whatever body part you strap on the bench in front of it. The fact that there were still more arms for toys shouldn’t make your cunt bottom out on itself but it does. Making you squeeze your thighs together at the thought. You could never afford something like this, but it makes your wand look pitifully inadequate. 

“-will you?” You shake your head, not hearing a word Dieter was saying while you were absorbing all the possibilities of a machine like this. 

“What?” 

“Demonstrate.” He huffs out, obviously repeating himself. “So I know it works? How good it is?” 

 “What? Absolutely not.” 

****

Five thousand dollars. Apparently that was your price to demonstrate the toy. Stripped down and biting your lip as you set up the phone on a tripod, you want to change your mind but you don’t. He had offered you five thousand dollars on top of what he normally paid you. All to try out a fucking machine and tell him how it is while he watches. 

“Are you going to use the tongue thing? Use the tongue thing. And a toy. Whatever one you want. They are all clean.” You listen to Dieter babble through the phone, still pointed away from you while you gather the nerve to set out in front of it and let him see you. 

“Fuck.” You don’t know if that breathy sound is from him seeing you naked or something on his end and you don’t really want to know. Instead you pick up the bottle of lube and the attachments that had come with the device so you can get them slicked up. Knowing that you are going to need a little bit of extra lube because of how nervous you are. Even if you feel like you are dripping wet. Performance anxiety was a bitch and this is letting Dieter fucking Bravo be a voyeur while you get fucked by his machine. 

“I’m going to use this one.” You hold it up and glance at your phone just to see Dieter’s head bobble like one of those toys as he agrees. Turning back to get it put on the arm and slicked up before you take a deep breath and lay down on the bench. 

Fuck, this thing has restraints, another two arms to hold a wand, practially anything that you can think of - it’s got. Your stomach clenches at the idea of using this with a partner. Even Dieter, although you quickly close your eyes and try to think about anyone other than your boss. This was just a demonstration. 

For the mechanical parts, the machine is silent, turning on with a soft whirl and you hold the remote up to press the buttons. “Shit.” You accidentally press the wrong one and a wrong arm starts pushing forward. “Okay, uh, here we go.” 

You feel the cool silicone on your clit while you are on your stomach, suspended over the rotating tongues before you press the button. Making you moan as it starts to move, the rotating belt slapping the slick tongues against your clit slowly before you edge the speed up. 

You hear Dieter groan, the words low and muffled by the sound of your own body. Ears filled with the white noise of pleasure already, body jerking from the way that the pressure is almost constant. No one could replicate this, not at the steady pace of a machine. 

Instantly you keen when the next button is pressed, the toy that was butted up against your cunt pushing deep, making your upper body lift up at the sensation of being filled so easily. Experimenting with the speed by taking it up one level past your comfort zone and then bringing it back down with a panted curse. 

Forgetting everything but the way that your body feels, you don’t hear Dieter telling you to open your eyes. Don’t acknowledge the way he is praising you, telling that it looks fucking hot or that he’s going to jerk off watching you. The idea that this is a demonstration fades away until it is just about chasing your pleasure while the steady rotation of the arms and pistons of  the machine continue to whirl. 

You don’t look at him, the phone, don’t hear the bitten off curse as he pulls his cock out and spits into his hand. Your moans drown out his own, nearly whining while the machine constantly bombards you with pleasure until it’s nearly painful. 

Hours pass, or maybe it’s minutes. You can’t tell as your entire body rides on the edge of an orgasm so long that you think your legs are going to shake off. The plunging of the dildo into your pussy in perfect synchronization with the tongues and you feel tears leak out of the side of your eyes as you cry out. 

It’s devastating when you cum. Blinding and overwhelming to the point where your blood roars in your ears and you heave as you try to move away from the machine, quickly pushed to overstimulation and fumbling for the remote so you can shut it off. Unaware that Dieter had just cried out your name while spilling ropes of cum over his hand and thighs. 

Panting after everything goes still and your body continues to shake. The fucking machine was worth every damn penny Dieter had paid for it. 

[dead-finch-420]

RE: Village Incorrect Quotes (Dimitrescu Family edition)

Bela: Can I be frank with you guys?

Cassandra: Sure but I don't see why changing your name is gonna help.

Daniela: Can I still be Daniela?

Maiden: Shh, let Frank speak.

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Daniela: *is cooking*

Cassandra: Any chance that's for me?

Daniela: It's for the Maiden, I'm planning on making bad choices tonight, and I need them on my side.

Bela: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment.

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Bela: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Cassandra: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Maiden: I got distracted about halfway through.

Daniela: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Maiden: Isn’t it weird that we pay money to see other people?

Bela: Plane tickets?

Cassandra: Concert tickets?

Daniela: Prostitution?

Maiden, holding their broken frames: Glasses.

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Bela, about Maiden: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Cassandra: Are we stealing them?

Daniela: New or used?

Bela: Wonderful responses, both of you.

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Cassandra: What time is it?

Daniela: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Daniela: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Bela: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Daniela: It’s 2 am

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Alcina: Daniela, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Daniela: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later

Alcina: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Cassandra.

♦♢♥♡♣♧♠♤

Daniela: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Bela: You’re a hazard to society

Cassandra: And a coward. DO TWENTY.