#actually fuck them if you’re going to exploit your customers at least give them a working product in return

[crystalelemental]

Alright, Chapter 4 and endgame stuff.

OPHELIA Her sister is going along with this Savior guy who is clearly working evil miracles from the dark god.  But little did you know the Savior guy was Mattias!  Did...did you forget?  He was the merchant at the start of her story, he showed up in part 3 to re-introduce himself in case you forgot so this reveal would be important.  Anyway, he made a cult, and tries to kill a bunch of these villagers and have Lianna awaken the dark flame so he can siphon out more power, without waking the dark god up.  So hey, points for not being completely stupid, but still a bad call.  So we killed him.  Eat shit.  We then reunite with Lianna, and have to take her up to that hill from the start to snap her out of her depression, just like she did for Ophelia when they were kids.  It’s very cute.

I will say that, with a lot of these final chapters, the stories that focused on mystery will be...fairly obvious like this.  Like with Simeon.  Because any fair mystery had to have established the players early on.  And each route...only has so many characters to work with.  So either they’re like the only other relevant face in that route, or they’re the person who showed up before the big reveal.  Speaking of which.

CYRUS LUCIA WAS EVIL?!  WHAAAAAAAA?!  That’s so surprising, that the person who led us into the trap and then vanished might have been suspicious.  Anyway, she also hulks out, and honestly her fight was the scariest of all of them, because no weakness to magic and goddamn 30 shields.  I have to admit, I didn’t even try.  I just let Ophelia brute force her through the defenses.

Cyrus’ story then goes on to involve him looking through these lost tomes, and deciphering a mural that’s pretty clearly some eldritch shit, and having all the text translate to death and doom.  So yeah, something about don’t fuck with this thing, which Lucia was at least partially fucking with.  Good work, everyone.

TRESSA Tressa gets to Grandport, set to win the Merchant’s Fair, and runs into a young woman named Noa.  Who it turns out, is the daughter of Mr. Moneybags who runs this whole show.  He puts on this fair to get gifts for his daughter, who is, at least in my reading, disabled and not always able to walk.  He gets her extravagant gifts to help her experience the world like she always wanted, and we’re here with this super rare jewel as the prize.

But oh no!  Some lady steals her notebook, and it’s up to us to go kill her and take it back!  I don’t think we actually kill the lady, but we do take it back.  The big mystery they set up is that we don’t even know who the hell wrote it, what do we care?  And Tressa realizes that it’s packed with all her journey’s exploits and that it’s important to her.  So when we get it back, Tressa has an epiphany.  On the stage, she goes up to present her treasure...and shows off the notebook, as something heartfelt that chronicles the world through the eyes of two adventurers.  And while all the merchants laugh at her useless junk...Noa wants it, so Tressa wins.  Mr. Richman tells the crowd that this selection was easy, because it’s literally the only time Noa’s ever asked him for something.  And the whole thematic purpose is that Tressa, as a merchant, is always trying to get the customer what they want.  And in this case, the rarest jewel on the planet wasn’t going to make Noa happy.  But giving her something that helped her feel like she was on that adventure, just like Tressa did when she first obtained it, is exactly what she wanted.  I love it.  They’re so cute.

The story ends with some guy telling you he made the notebook, and that the original author’s name was Graham Crossford.  In retrospect, I was probably supposed to recognize that last name, but I didn’t so...

PRIMROSE God, for a revenge tale, there’s an awful lot of talking and too little stabbing.  Primrose, sweetie, I know you’re having a crisis, but “Faith is your shield” means stab that motherfucker instead of listening to him talk.  I am kinda glad they let him talk though, because now instead of being Generic McBadman, he can be Kotomine Kirei!  Yeah, it turns out Simeon’s just a wee bit unhinged, in the way where he has a flair for drama, and loves watching the tragedy of someone’s life falling apart.  Which is at least something.  But Primrose does eventually get to the stabbing part, and that’s good, but it’s placed beside this play he wrote about her life, that’s supposed to end with her admitting she loved him?  Anyway, everyone in her story is a weird sex criminal and I’m glad we stabbed him.  Mission accomplished, girl.

THERION In the other “short but effective corner,” we have Therion, who is apparently listed as wanted by Darius, so everyone’s out for his blood.  Heathcote is here to help, and you sneak in and kill Darius.  The big focus is on trust and bonds, and that Darius doesn’t have any.  He hates that Therion does.  And his ultimate end isn’t by Therion’s hand.  He runs off and tries to gather his gold and make his escape, but his underlings never cared about him at all and just kill him, stealing his stuff for themselves.  Which is fitting.

The really good part?  Cordelia offers to unbind the bangle now, and Heathcote’s like “Oh, I did that ages ago.”  And Therion’s like “Well I’ll be damned,” but Cordelia notes that hey, Therion, you absolutely would’ve noticed that shit coming loose.  Did you actually do all of this out of the goodness of your heart?  And he’s like who knows, Highlander.  Who knows.  So then they go to see him off, and he tries to be a tough man about wanting to leave all cool, but does cave and thank her for believing in him, and honestly I’m in.  There’s the emotional hit that was always going to be there but I needed to see before I could appreciate him.  I like this one.

ALFYN While I have on multiple occasions felt like Alfyn’s story is mostly about people making dumb decisions instead of easily preventing a bad outcome, I’d be lying if I said the concepts didn’t make me really emotional.  We meet other apothecary, whose name I literally cannot remember, and learn that he has contracted the plague as well.  In fact, it’s the same one Alfyn had as a kid, so now Alfyn must finally rise to the level of the man he always wanted to be like.  And he does, but that’s not what’s cool.

Cool point #1 is that, in keeping with the themes of a healer, this other apothecary (Ogen, I had to look it up), wants to die.  Apparently, after the murder of his wife, he found the guy who did it with his own family, and broke, then decided to kill him like he killed his wife.  And for the record?  Correct move.  I’m sorry, but fuck you, I hate this trope of like “Oh this dude who murdered someone for basically nothing actually had their own family, and will you be as bad as them?”  Yes, because I’m doing the world a favor, and there’s no way a guy who murders for funsies isn’t also a terrible partner and parent, so I’m doing his family a favor as well.  I will sleep so goddamn soundly tonight.  But Ogen’s grappling with it and his own code that you shouldn’t heal bad people, and Alfyn’s stance of always trying to believe in the good of people sees it through.

Cool point #2 is that, Ogen knows the guy who healed Alfyn.  A dude named Graham Crossford.  And see, this time I recognized that name.  They pass it off as just a thing, but I imagine the intent is either the name is incidental here or in Tressa’s route, and then you see it again and go oh shit, stuff’s connected?  Oh man.  Oh man, is it ever.  But more on that when we get to endgame.

OLBERIC Olberic’s hunting down the leader of that band Erhardt was from, and we get to the town to find out it’s a shithole.  Blatant corruption from the guards, public executions via burning at the stake once a month, most criminals up there are now just general dissenters, etc.  Fortunately there’s an armed resistance so we get in their good graces and lead a charge and fight and kill him.  Erhardt shows up to save us at one point.  There’s not a ton interesting going on, but Olberic does ask why Werner here wanted to destroy Hornburg.  Apparently it was the Gate of Finis.  Which...I can’t remember if they name dropped this in Cyrus’ route or Ophelia’s.  But someone definitely referenced this before, so this is another of those incidental moments.  The purpose of the gate is that it connects to the dark god, it’s where it was banished, so like...big deal.  Olberic gets mad it was all for a gate, but buddy you gotta understand, it’s like...a really good gate.

Anyway, then he goes back to the town and it’s all very cute.  Nothing much.

H’AANIT H’aanit goes to hunt down Redeye, and honestly it’s sorta like Olberic’s where it’s not too interesting, just setting up that more people are lost to its petrification and we gotta stop it.  I’m gonna skip being half-assed about the story this time, and focus on a detail I thought was super weird at the time but is...very interesting to me now.

When they talked about Redeye petrifying, I was like oh, it’s gonna be like a basilisk or something.  You know, one of those mystical creatures that has that ability.  And then we get...that thing.  This weird fucked up humanoid creature on all fours with its mouth like cracked open and some glowing red stuff in its guy and billowing shadows coming from it.  And it’s like damn.  That is...not at all what I expected this thing to be.  So like, props for setting up some understanding of petrification lore and completely subverting it with whatever the fuck that was.

Her ending is finding Z’aanta, now freed from petrification, and returning to the village.  And with that, everything is done.

ENDGAME Except there were no end credits and that’s a weird way to leave off, so I looked up all the sidequests to complete and turns out there’s still a lot to do.  I started knocking them out, but I had finished a pretty heavy amount.  If it involved needing an item, information, or a challenge to solve, I had it done just fine.  But I suck at figuring out the Guide quests.  I think I solved maybe two of them correctly by accident.  So we get those done, and eventually the only one left is some conclusion for Impressario, that has like five different required conditions, including completing all character stories and a few sidequest events, and then finding him on an early game trail that no one in their right goddamn mind would ever go back to.  Seriously, I’m confident that I would’ve searched for days without a guide.  You save them from some random beast, not a huge deal, but you have two people present.  Impressario is some traveling performer guy, who took on Kit from a questline you pick up.  Kit traveled a while with them, looking for word of his father, and allegedly found a lead with some woman claiming to know him, and left.  The other I can’t remember his name, but he’s from the Daughter of the Dark God questline, which...man, how did I not pick up on that one?  I mean, I recognized it for what it was, but went “Oh she must be a part of the faith or something.”  But they told me outright and I just didn’t realize it.  Anyway, they talk about their respective NPCs having both left...to the Ruins of Hornburg.  And briefly wonder hey.  Are they...going to the same place?  Weird.

You can now go to the Ruins of Hornburg.  If you can fucking find it.  It’s a tiny little dot in the southeast corner, it took me forever, I was looking for like a town icon.

Anyway, you get there, and there’s nothing.  Like, notably not even monsters and shit.  Just...nothing.  Which is neat.  Anyway, it’s here you meet Lyblac and Kit...in front of the Gate of Finis.  Kit is persuaded to go in to see his father, and just...goes.  Lyblac notices you, and kinda just gives a general bit of info about finding her perfect man and coming after them if you wish, so you can head on it if you want.  Good luck with that.

If you choose to go in, you are faced with a ten-phase boss gauntlet that ends in the most frustrating shit I’ve ever seen.  So that’s great.  But it’s the prelude to the final phase that I love.

You have eight altars with some unholy flame upon them.  Checking the flames will cause you to engage in a boss fight, against a figure from each character’s route: Mattias from Ophelia’s, Yvon from Cyrus’, Venomtooth Tiger from Tressa’s, Werner from Olberic’s, Simeon from Primrose’, Miguel from Alfyn’s, Darius from Therion’s, and the Dragon from H’aanit’s.  It’s a fun little revisit of the bosses, and by this point I could destroy them easily with Ophelia and Tressa.  We have perfect setup too, it’s incredibly consistent and devastating.  Shame the final boss is such an asshole and I’d have to start all over if it beats me like it always does.  Ugh.

But what’s cool is that each defeated boss leaves behind a notebook, outlining information about the boss, or about stuff that happened prior to your adventures.  Some of it is self-contained.  But they all connect to Lyblac, who it sounds like is effectively immortal, and has been pulling shit for years.  She convinced Yvon to murder the former headmaster and take his position.  She gave Mattias the power of the Dark God, that allowed him to just outlive the church members that excommunicated him and show back up later with new faces who don’t remember him and just do it again.  She’s behind Simeon’s shit, and Darius’ shit, and even Werner’s shit.  By the way, shoutouts to Werner’s diary, for having a section specifically devoted to “Yeah she’s hot as hell, but I’m not gettin in there, that shit’s cursed.”  Honestly had me dying.

But the real juice is in the three-part diaries of Graham Crossford, traveling apothecary and author of Tressa’s notebook.  It turns out, he was on his trip to gather medicine for his wife, who had the same affliction as Alfyn did as a child.  When he finally had what he needed, he made his way back, offering his journal as payment to Leon for passage, so that’s how the notebook got there.  However, when he arrives, he finds his wife had already passed.  The elixir is used on Alfyn instead, and he takes to wandering, until he encounters Lyblac.  She tells him of a way to see his wife again, and draws him to the Gate.  Graham notes that yes, he had an idea of what this place was and what she was up to, but was willing to do anything to see his wife again.  Unfortunately, it is, of course, a lie, and her magic begins to twist him into a vessel for the dark god.  She mentions just before the final battle, and I think it’s hinted elsewhere, that the Crossford line is associated with the mage that helped bind the dark god here, so only one of their bloodline can release it as well.  Graham describes that his body is contorted beyond recognition, but the thought that his child will be next in Lyblac’s ambitions causes him to momentarily snap to his senses, and attempt to kill her.  It doesn’t work, but in his pursuit it notes that he is attacked by others, and his final words are a desperate plea that he’s not a monster, he’s a man.  The script is notably doing that alternating capital and lower case letter thing to indicate Gettin Fucked Up.

Which starts to tie stuff together.  That’s how Tressa’s notebook got where it was.  That’s why he was wandering the land.  That’s why all these events feel so connected, through this background NPC you probably didn’t take any notice of.  But you’ll notice, the only one that doesn’t seem to line up is H’aanit.  Why is she drawn in?  And if I’m getting the right thing out of this...dude, is Graham fucking Redeye?  Is that why Redeye is this fucked up humanoid monster?  Because holy shit that’s awesome.  I think that’s what I’m supposed to get from it, because I think the third part of his diary that talks about this transformation and being labelled a beast was after beating Dragon.  So like...damn.  Damn that’s good.  I love how they tied all of this together at the last minute.  I love how it fits together sensibly, and how they actually managed to craft this big mystery that wasn’t even recognizable as a mystery until you think about it.  Why did Darius know about the stones?  Why did Werner know about the gate?  How did Mattias find out about this power?  And it’s all Leblac, a character that was fairly set up in the overall mystery, and even literally called her questline “Daughter of the Dark God,” and still caught me off guard.  This one’s well played.  I love that.  And I feel like there must have been small hints leading up to it.  Like, did Kit ever mention his last name?  Was I supposed to be able to put that one together?  I think Darius mentions a woman wanting Therion dead; is that Lyblac just setting up Darius for her purposes?  There are so many little things I kinda want to go back and see if I notice now that I have the full picture, and that’s so much fun, I love it.

Unfortunately, the final boss sucks.  I hate this fight and I hate that it takes like two fucking hours to get to the final phase only to lose.  I really don’t know if I’ll actually play to the finish on this one.  I just don’t know if I have it in me.  But I guess we’ll see.  Not like I have much else going on today, might level a bit and take one more shot.

#octopath traveler

[monsterhugger]

thought of never being able to do digital art again is making me want to cry actually

#lbr I’m not going to be able to afford ps once I move out #CSP was the only thing that worked for me #I have a $200 tablet sitting around that’s not going to get used again #I can’t afford new hardware so like. an iPad is out of the question for me as well #sai and krita exist but they’re just.... so bad. i can’t do lighting or anything with them everything is going to look like shit #like I made so much progress doing digital art last summer I really got good at using tools and making stuff actually look decent #and now its just gone #fuck clip studio #actually fuck them if you’re going to exploit your customers at least give them a working product in return

[sixeyesgojo]

being their best friend hc

Summary: What’s it like to be their best friend?

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Inumaki Toge

Word count: -

Content warning: -

A/N: -

Gojo Satoru

Gosh, the two of you were so chaotic as best friends. Both of you were up to no good at least half of the time and frankly, it pissed quite some people off but neither of you could give a flying fuck about others, just snickering at the mischief you've caused

As a troublemaker yourself, you obviously support Gojo wholeheartedly in... opposing the higher-ups, I guess? You actually wanted him to overthrow them, it was time for change.

Who cares about the higher-ups anyway? They didn't really like you either

It's widely known that Gojo has no sense of private space, so expect him to frequently come very close

Not that you mind anyway, at some point you even picked up that habit of his

Naturally, there will be a lot of PDA, like his arm around your shoulder or something like that

Outsiders always think the two of you are dating but

"Hah? Dating that idiot? As if!" (you can choose whoever says that, either you about him or vice versa)

The two of you actually sit down together to make plans on how to get on other people's nerves and nobody is really spared. Like that one time when you made a plan to mess with poor Megumi.

You're a formidable Jujutsu Sorcerer yourself, so there will be a lot of competitions between you and him

"Where's my reward? I've defeated that curse 0.01 seconds faster than you!"

"You will get your reward if you're at home faster than I am."

Fushiguro Megumi

He frequently has to get you out of trouble; be it because of some trouble or a curse, this boy always has to get you out of the mess and he's a little annoyed but does it regardless

Will roll his eyes a lot but he loves you just as much, so he puts up with your antics without complaining.... much

frequently asks "are you actually stupid?", which usually earns him a slap on the shoulder from you

He may be annoyed at you sometimes but he would never dare hurt you in any way, he even shows his appreciation in the most Megumi way possible

When he shows you appreciation, it's usually through simple gestures like offering massages, going grocery shopping with you or buying something you've mentioned you needed (as a casual remark, which you didn't expect him to remember), usually accompanied by him rubbing his neck and averting his eyes, saying, "I thought you'd need this."

takes pictures whenever you hang out but not of you or him

For example, if you were going to have a video game night, he'd take one of the controllers and the games

You have to convince him to appear on a selfie with you

claims "I'm not photogenic" but he totally is

Since he isn't much of a talker, hanging out in silence is fine for him too

is very good at keeping secrets, he will take them to his grave

doesn't show it a lot but he's almost as protective of you as a big brother would be

Itadori Yuuji

This boy would totally do any favor you asked of him - not that you would exploit this, but just know that he would

Yuuji is a very good listener and he knows when and what to comment when you tell him something, despite being a little dense.

His bright and cheery attitude never ceases to cheer you up too, no matter in which mood you were before seeing him

He's the kind of friend who would do anything with you. You don't even have to put in a lot of effort in order to convince him, just hit him up casually and he will agree. Bungee Jumping? Easy. Skydiving? No problem.

The two of you are regular customers at the local cinema.

And probably at some fastfood chain too.

Unlike Megumi, Yuuji takes a lot of selfies with you. Most of them are dorky ones where the two of you just grimace and then laugh about how ugly that picture turned out to be. One of them ends up being his homescreen picture.

You actually know him since (at least) middle school - you've become best friends quite quickly, mostly thanks to his easygoing personality. Who doesn't love this boy?

When he discloses that he will move to Tokyo, your first reaction is to be shocked but then that quickly transforms into happiness because it's what he chose to do

Due to personal reasons, you also move to Tokyo not too long after that. One would say it was coincidence when it actuality, it was fate that wasn't allowing you to let go of Yuuji. Not that you wanted to anyway.

He definitely didn't expect that. When you reunite, you just throw up two peace signs and say, "Seems like we're stuck together."

A smile graces his lips and he replies as follows: "Wouldn't have it any other way, if you ask me."

Kugisaki Nobara

You haven't known her for long... but it sure feels like it has been years because you just get along so well

You accidentally bumped into her, making her drop everything. You felt bad, so you invited her to a cup of tea. It clicked almost instantly.

Since you are originally from Tokyo, she insists that you are her personal guide

"If I got lost, that would be terrible, so I hereby appoint you as my personal Tokyo guide."

Nobara often calls you and invites you to hang out in downtown quite spontaneously

expect lots of shopping sprees, lots of laughter and lots of gossip

One thing you started to associate with her was bubble tea. You think of her whenever you drink it alone.

Oh yes, she also likes to call you in the evening to just talk, especially when she has not been able to see you a lot lately due to missions

Sometimes you get her little gifts, like earrings that you thought suited her, and deliver it directly to the students' dorm

There will always be a happy reaction coming from her. She is especially grateful when she sees a little gift after a tough mission.

Gradually, she starts to do the same for you.

"This hoodie was so cool and comfy, I thought I'd get one for both, me and you."

Inumaki Toge

You're a Jujutsu Sorcerer from the Jujutsu Highschool in Kyoto and met this peculiar boy at the Exchange Event, as a rival initially

However, you were impressed and approached him to befriend him. He was pretty hesitant at first but ultimately, didn't sense any hostility coming from you, so he just went with the flow. Who knew, maybe you ended up being a good friend?

At first it was chaos since you had no idea what the hell he meant by "Mustard leaf."

Hah, luck's on your side though because you managed to decode his speech after some time

Nobody knows how you did that but as a matter of fact, you did. Took you long enough, in your opinion.

Sometimes he would grab a paper and write on it to communicate with you nevertheless, he thinks it feels more personal to be able to accurately convey what someone wants to say themself - not that you really needed it after having decoded his speech

As mentioned, you're also a sorcerer but thanks to Toge, you branched out to the medical field simultaneously, just to be able to concoct throat medicine for him. It was an unspoken tradition for you to bring him a bottle of your own throat medicine and onigiri whenever you saw him. The way his eyes lit up was always worth the effort.

Your favorite way to hang out was making onigiris and sushi together, you can't convince me otherwise

Same as Megumi, he does not mind spending quieter evenings with you

He comes to visit you in Kyoto just as many times as you visit Tokyo.

"Bonito flakes." - "Yeah, Toge, I know. I agree with you."

#gojo x reader #megumi x reader #nobara x reader #yuji x reader #inumaki x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #itadori yuji #inumaki toge

[mack3030]

Types of Paywall Abuse --- A post...

I think it’s time to tackle a topic that might make a few simmers uncomfortable, but we need to talk about it, because in addition to seeing a lot of people complain about it in general, I’ve also been getting some anons in my inbox talking about it. So let’s discuss this. 

Now, first of all, I would like to clarify a couple of things: 

When I speak of PAYWALLS here, I am talking about custom content that can ONLY be accessed by paying, or viewing an ad through a virus filled ad shortener link (which is just as bad).  Pure early access content, where you pay for it and get it earlier than everyone else who gets it for free IS NOT PAYWALLED CONTENT. 

This is why it is called a pay “WALL” because the wall portion indicates that you cannot access it without paying a fee/toll. 

Second of all, I would like to remind the public at large that this is not hate, it is a critical commentary. I am not going to go for these creators personally, nor do I want to. I, as a member of the community who plays the sims 4, and downloads/uses CC, would like to simply hold some of these creators accountable for actions that are unethical and unsatisfactory to the community in which they serve. That is it. No more, no less. I simply believe they CAN do better and BE better than this. 

Now, let’s get into the meat of this. 

The main type of abuse that I have focused on has been what I call Permapaywalls. 

Permapaywalls:

Content that cannot be accessed ANY other way than either paying a certain amount via patreon or another service, OR viewing a link through a virus-filled ad that puts your computer at risk. 

There are many creators who are well known permapaywall creators, with at least 80% or more of their content being locked behind these permapaywalls. Sometimes they may release a few items for free, but this is very similar to being allowed to test drive a car before buying it. It’s to entice the user/viewer into liking the brand, and then buying in.

I’m not going to delve into this too much because I’ve already expounded on this topic a bit. So let’s go further. 

The next type of abuse is what I like to call “Exclusive Loopholes”. 

Exclusive Loopholes: Creators who try to “get around” EA’s early access policy by offering a majority of their content as early access, but holding back certain items only to those who “subscribe” to their “patreon exclusive” content. 

There are some who are okay with this, thinking of this as a neat “bonus” for those who subscribe and support. However, the sims team made it clear: 

Folks who have a Patreon page are welcome to provide folks with "early access" incentives for their content but it should be made available to the general public within 2-3 weeks of it being given to folks early.

- Simguru Drake, The Sims Forum

Notice nowhere in this answer does it say anything about BONUS CC incentives. Nowhere. This is just a method that certain creators try to use to keep people from decrying them as “big bad paywall creators”. This way they can say “oh look, we do early access, we’re following EA’s rules~!” while still holding content hostage. 

If you want to offer your patreons some exclusives, here’s some ideas:  * Share pictures of your process, or work in progress content coming up.  * Allow them to have input into your process via polls and questions.  * Have an exclusive discord community just for your patreons where they can talk to you easier and share excitement and input about your content with you and each other.  * Have exclusive streams where only you and your patreons have the link to see you go live making content.  * Host a workshop on how to make CC using your process. (I see all of you who steal meshes from other sites sweating over this. ;D)  * Pause billing for a month and say “you know what, since you guys have been loyal and supported me, have a month of patreon on me!”  * Anything that honestly doesn’t involve only giving those patreons CC and not releasing it to the public. 

Let’s talk about another type, and oh my lanta, this type has had some anons messaging me ALL up in arms. I like to call this type “The Donation Disaster”.

Donation Disaster: Someone who CONSTANTLY uses the “downs” in the up/downs of life as excuses to not release content on time, or delay it while still collecting payment from patreons. Bonus “you’re a jerk” points if they then try to use those misfortunate circumstances to beg for even more money from their patreons on multiple occasions. 

Look, we all have junk that goes on in our lives. But when that junk is used as an excuse for you continually delaying content while still charging your patreons (and not using the pause feature), it makes them feel cheated.  In addition, when you then ask for donations to help you during your difficult time, and turn to your patreons instead of the support networks that are around you (ex: friends, family, religious communities, etc.), that can be VERY off-putting. You might be able to get away with it once, maybe twice, without a large chunk of your community turning against you. But the more regular it becomes, and the more they hear about how strapped for cash you are and how you’re asking them to give more than their pledge, and you’ll soon find yourself being called a scammer. Regardless of your intent, or if your problems are reality, you’ll find people’s empathy for your situation will be lacking.

I’ve had a few anons in my inbox talking about different patreon creators that always seem to have an excuse for why updates aren’t coming just yet, or why x is broken, and with their excuse comes a plea for help with bills, and a link to a paypal or venmo. 

Everyone has junk, don’t get me wrong. And it sucks to go through the junk we have in life, but if you’re reaching out to random people on the internet as your first method of support, you might need to be looking someplace else for support first before you come to the people who are already paying you for content you make. A one time “hey I’m in a bind, I need some help” donation thing might not be a bad thing, but when it becomes a constant pattern on your patreon....people aren’t going to take it well...at all. 

And last, but not least, I’d like to talk about the last kind of patreon abuse, which frankly, is really upsetting to me. I don’t even really have a name for it, because it’s literally so much of a “what?” thing in my head. I don’t even understand why it goes on.  Now, this practice involves the black/POC community, and frankly, as a white girl, I don’t feel I should be speaking over the community and what they have to say. Thankfully @xmiramira​ spoke on it, all the way back in 2019. Here’s an excerpt from her fantastic POST:

Even new creators who JUST joined the community sliding up in TBS with locs and braids talking about Patreon only. GTFOH. I’m not okay with creators doing Patreon only CC PERIOD, but my main discussion is focused on NON BLACK simmers making CC catered to US, and making it PATREON EXCLUSIVE IN AN ATTEMPT TO FORCE US TO PLEDGE, and how people are ASSUMING that I’m OKAY WITH THIS, and ASSUMING that I’m letting it FLY in my community. Just because I don’t go off about shit as frequent as I used to doesn’t mean I cannot see and I am not doing what I can to keep the fuckery OUT.“Oh but your friend has a Patreon” I don’t have an issue with what @ebonixsims is doing because it’s all early release. It gets released to the public a few weeks later. It’s not being kept behind Patreon, forcing people to pledge to her. Despite this, she’s still doing really good with it. So don’t get it twisted, I’m not on social media arguing with folks so people just assumed I’m okay with this shit, I’m really not. I’m actually two seconds off dropping Patreon share folders. (That also have my shit in it) Supporting people is one thing, but a lot of these motherfuckers are becoming extremely exploitive, and it’s aggravating. It’s like you goofy motherfuckers sit in DMs like “yeah let’s make some CC for the negros and put it on Patreon” Fuck outta here. And it’s not even just hair, it’s skins and even CLOTHING STYLES. Y’all are really wilding the hell out. African necklaces, black girl magic chains, Juicy Couture sweatsuits. Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? IM TIRED! Next time someone asks me where I got something and it’s Patreon exclusive I’m dropping a SFS link. FUCK OUTTA HERE!

Here’s the deal. The black community has been fighting for a while to be able to feel represented in this game. Here’s two articles (ONE, TWO) talking about this issue.  But the thing that has me upset is the fact that SO many creators of content that is AIMED at Black/POC simmers are locking that content (or a good majority of it) behind paywalls. And what’s even more shameful is some of those creators are POC themselves! They understand what it’s like to feel that they cannot make themselves or have sims that look like them in this game, yet they still lock their content away and expect people not just in the SIMS community, but in the POC community to pay through the nose for it.  The fact that this is STILL going on, two freaking years after she made this post, and that both NON POC creators and POC creators are engaging in this behavior is honestly disappointing and shameful. I believe black/POC creators should be supported, BUT they should be supported without depriving their OWN community of representation and access. And frankly, if you’re a NON POC creator and you’re specifically targeting this group to make money off of them with paywalls, I have only one thing to say to you:

I’d speak on it more, but frankly, I’d rather let the people who are actually in the black/POC community speak on it, so if any of you want to let loose in the comments about this problem, go wild. I’m happy to sit back and listen, and I suggest others do the same.

#nopaywalls #sims4 #sims4mm #sims4alpha #support early access creators #stop being a jerk #patreon abuse

[sugoi-writes]

Bakugo’s s/o gets him ear plugs and they aren’t bothered by his temper and ask him would he like to be deaf and not to be able to hear things. Like their voice his voice anyone! Bakugo knows their right and starts to wear them

I’m going to get cavities, dammit!  Thank you for this, this is adorable guodgdou please enjoy! 

Bakugou meeting up with you like this wasn’t unusual. In fact, spontaneous dates usually were for the best. Bakugou’s schedule was subject to change at the drop of the a hat, especially if he could squeeze in some training between patrols and missions.

He was zoning out, lazily sipping on some water. Before long, he caught your silhouette out of the corner of his eye, and straightened up at the sight of something in your hands. What the fuck was that?

Immediately, Bakugou’s mind started to wonder. Not that it was a big deal, but... did he miss something? Was it someone’s birthday; your birthday? Was this a cheesy anniversary date? Was the restaurant doing some weird event? It wasn’t White Day, was it--???

“Hey!” you chime happily, taking your seat across from Bakugou, who looked visibly confused and flustered,” ‘You okay? You’re not looking so hot.” 

Bakugou’s brow twitches at the horrible joke, forcing you to choke back your laughter as he finally relaxed,” I’m fine, I’m fine. But I wanna know what the fuck that’s about,” he retorts bluntly, pointing to a small, sleek package in your hands. You smile, giving it a little shake,” Oh this? It’s for you,” you say casually, setting it on the table before sliding it his way,” Here. Go ahead and open it.”

Bakugou gives you an inquisitive glare, narrowing his eyes at you as he gingerly takes it,” I don’t like that tone you’ve got there...,” Bakugou grumbles, a small flush rising to his cheeks,” What’s the special occasion, anyway? It’s not our anniversary or anything...”

You continue to smile, resting your chin on your hands as you place your elbows on the table,” Oh trust me, I know you wouldn’t forget about that. But... I had some left over money from this pay period, and... I wanted to get you something. Something you’ve needed for a while.” Bakugou seems to accept this answer, even if he doesn’t like receiving gifts. 

This was fine, he’d suppose... but why chose a noisy ramen joint to give it to him? You could have just given it to him at home after work or--

His train of thought completely stops, as he feels a feverish, red tint ghost his ears and most of his face. Are those...?

“Ear protection,” you say, finishing his thoughts,” Because you need it.” Bakugou blinks, stupefied for a moment. And then, he clamps his fists, glancing away from you,” Why’d you waste your money on shit like that? I don’t like handouts, especially ones I don’t need.” 

You roll your eyes, knowing that Bakugou just had a hard time processing his thoughts,” You do need them, dumbass,” you fire back, grinning,” Besides... how many years have you been training with such a powerful quirk like that? It’s enough to hurt yourself, as well as the villains you chase down day after day.” 

Bakugou scoffs softly, not wanting to give you an inch of gratification,” Yeah yeah, I train my ass off to make sure I don’t hurt myself. I have all of the gear and experience I need. You shouldn’t waste your money on auxiliary crap. Especially some wireless earbuds.”

“These aren’t just some regular music earbuds, Katsuki,” you interject,” These are specialized, noise-cancelling ear buds. They cancel out a lot of the volume and impact from a high-noise environment. You could wear these bad boys on a flight line, or at a gun range.” 

You lean back in your chair, watching Bakugou’s face contort incredulously,” ...And... if you would believe it, your quirk is pretty explosive and loud. Almost as bad as a jet liner taking off.” Bakugou is receptive to what you’re saying now, and listens as you go on (albeit, he didn’t care for the sass).

“I actually did some research on this, y’know. You’ve told me before that you’ve experienced ringing in your ears after training and fighting, right? And sometimes even outside of that? That’s tinnitus. And while that isn’t a direct link to hearing loss... it can get worse over time, and be triggered by loud events, head injuries; all that kind of stuff. And you go through all kinds of stress and trauma just doing your day-to-day routine.” 

You reach across the table,” I’m not going to lie to you... I’m... worried about you, Katsuki,” you say honestly, taking his hand. Bakugou doesn’t pull away from your touch, looking to you intently. 

“There’s only a certain threshold that we should be exposed to daily, before hearing loss can set in. And... even for a guy like you, that threshold is constantly exploited by your own quirk. And I just thought... you’d like the chance to start being safe sooner, and protect what you have left.” 

Bakugou looks away, shrugging,” I have pretty extraordinary hearing,” he pipes up, grumbling,” Even my doctor says that I can withstand some pretty insane stuff. My threshold is way higher than the average person. Especially someone who’s quirkless.” Bakugou grits his teeth, a certain knucklehead coming to mind. 

“Would you want to risk not hearing my voice for the rest of your life?” 

Bakugou’s attention snaps back to you, the impact of your words hitting him like a brick wall,” If you aren’t careful, you won’t hear a thing. Me, your parents, Kirishima and the others... you would only be able to feel what your explosions do. And while a lot of people can get along just fine like that, or even born that way... I know that deep down, it’s a risk you’d never want to take.” 

You let go of his hand, leaning back and sitting properly in your seat,” ...so why don’t you try them on at least? You may be surprised by how much you like them. And beyond getting some good food...I figured this would be the best place to test them out.” 

Bakugou is a little startled with how firm you were with him... but it’s an assertiveness that he can respect. And, at the end of the day, you still bought him something. Even if you bought him a pet rock, he would keep it on his night stand and never let it out of his sight (don’t you dare tell anyone that). 

“Okay, okay--! Tch... I’ll try them on, if it makes you that happy,” he spits, practically tearing the ear pieces out of their packaging. They did look nice... they were solid black, with a bit of orange trim. Dammit... these were probably custom, weren’t they? He gives you another glare, which was probably deserved, before he puts in the custom buds. 

Immediately, the restaurant becomes... muffled. Almost too muffled. He can hear you talking to him, but nothing above a whisper, and starts to look around. He can see mouths moving, people laughing, but can barely hear a lick of it. He looks back to you, before taking one of them out,” ...alright... so they work. Big deal.” 

You smile, satisfied, as you continue,” Weeeell, that’s not all~ These buds have the capabilities to be synced with a smart device, so... you can use them as a communicator, for music, AND ear protection. There’s also adjustable levels, so if you don’t like how much that one cuts out, you can always tweak it. It comes with different little rings too, to better fit your ear canal--” 

“Shut up,” Bakugou says, putting a hand up to you. He looks away quickly, his face still intensely red,” Th-They’re... they’re fine on their own, okay... this... was actually really thoughtful, Y/N.” You smile despite the slightly harsh treatment, knowing that Bakugou just hated to get flustered in public. 

Bakugou gently places the earbuds back in the packaging, before standing up. You’re a little startled by this, afraid that he was finally gonna ‘kick your ass’ like he always claimed. However, he just leans across the table, giving your hair a gentle ruffle.He follows this up with a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“...I guess I owe you one... dammit... Thanks. Thank you, really... This gift really is something special,” Katsuki says, his tone straining to be even. You knows he’s usually never good with thank you’s, but this has GOT to be the best one you’ve received yet! 

You could only smile as you reached across the table, grasping his hands,” No problem, Katsuki~ I’m just glad you came around to them~”

A voice clears beside you, forcing you and Bakugou to look to your right. A waiter has come by, looking to you both expectantly,” Would you like a few moments, or can I get something started for you tonight?” 

Bakugou scoffs, tearing his hands away as he glances over towards you,” ...I know what I want. Put whatever we get on my tab. And a drink, for my date, while they decide what to get,” he bites back. 

The waiter rolls his eyes, takes your drink order, and leaves to retrieve it. You give Bakugou a look, telling him that he needs to work on his tone. Bakugou mimics your expression, huffing,” I get it, I get it... I’ll try to be a little... nicer... this time...” He grumbled under his breath how the two of you were interrupted, but didn’t press the issue further. He bumps your leg with his knee, looking back to you softly,” But I am serious about tonight, y’know. Get whatever you want; I don’t care. I’ll pay for whatever you get.” 

You reach across the table once more, grabbing Baku’s hand before planting a kiss to his calloused knuckles,” Well, I appreciate that~ Thank you, Bakugou~” you chime, smiling at him. Bakugou can only scoff once more, grumbling gently,” Y-You’re welcome... anything for you, babe.” 

.

.

.

I’m crying in the club, thank you for the prompt gidugdiydgid

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia fanfic #bnha fanfic #this one gave me cavaties while writing I tried to be really sweet but sassy with the conversations #I really hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it houdhoduhodu #sfw #fluffy fluff

[isolctions]

...........so let’s finally talk abt what the actual fucking fuck is wrong with ai’rina rue castillo, huh gang? :-)

(everyone go thank @armsdealing & @durcgs beating the anxiety out of me in order to post this info-dump.)

...before we get into things, now’s the part where i establish a warning for triggers to be discussed in this lengthy headcanon post. there’s gonna be some talks of mental illness, slight alcohol abuse, & breaking down topics of familial abuse, mental abuse, religious abuse, emotional manipulation, and elements of non-con. be warned.

a’ight, so look. i’ve hinted in between threads & development that rue had a not-so-fantastic upbringing that impacted how she perceives herself, how she interacts with others, (in terms of her career, at least) and how she views personal relationships, but i didn’t realize how........severely her upbringing messed with her mental health until i started working through how i wanted to plot out rue’s behavior for her next album release. at first, i had the idea that she decided to take more time for herself & sort of distance herself from the public / media circus plaguing her life so that she can create much more authentic music. then i actually listened to the EP that i’m basing her album off of and thought “...oh.” THEN, i looked over old meme responses & old threads / mentions of her family and how she grew up and thought, not for the last time since piecing everything together: “....oh. oh fucking boy.”

so, that horrible realization dawning on me, let’s talk about rue’s childhood.

i wrote a thing like, two years ago almost (that upon looking for last night, i realized i didn’t actually share it w/ anyone but alex in our discord server & only mentioned a portion of it in rue’s moodboard that i made) that talked vaguely about how rue felt growing up. and it’s worth noting that...she’s the middle of ten fucking siblings. and that’s just the brothers & sisters she knew of that stayed with their mother. and on top of that, not all of those siblings are the product of rue’s father, or even rue’s mother for that matter. and it’s also worth noting that rue not only grew up in poverty, but she grew up never having any actual space that had solely been her own, or even an article of clothing that had belonged entirely to her. so naturally, as a young child, rue sort of became torn between starved for attention & wanting someone to pay attention to her (whether that be her older siblings including her in something, whatever teacher they had for the next six months to call on her for something, for her mother to miraculously show up with her unknown father in tow one day, & for literally anyone to be her friend, pls god Notice her!!!) and for people to simply leave her the hell alone. obviously, this carried into adulthood.

and branching off from the whole “lack of space” point i made, rue wound up growing up to become increasingly more private as time went on because she literally cannot remember a single moment where she wasn’t squished between a bunch of people. driving around in their minivan? rue’s packed in the middle of the second row. nowhere to sleep while on the road? rue’s smacked between gigantic older brothers & clingy little siblings. need to use to bathroom? lmao, she better off going outside!!! gotta change clothes? yeah, good luck with that. it was to the point where, when rue got her first period, she was humiliated by it — not because ‘omg, am i a woman now?? wtf is this???’, but because she ruined the one good sheet that she slept on with her sisters & they were super pissed at her and her mother withheld pay from her for weeks. >:/

already, rue grew up never having shit to herself until the record deal. but she also dealt with literally...so much abuse from her mother. rue thought this was the norm growing up, because all of her siblings faced their mother’s wrath at some point & all of them eventually learned to just deal with the shit and do what she says if they wanted to avoid it. they all compartmentalized and repressed to varying degrees. there’s a lot in which rue has repressed so deeply, she doesn’t even remember if it seriously happened or if she was just making it up bc it was so fucking bizarre for a parent to act that way towards their child, lol?? (and this behavior of “i’m just going to do what you say bc i don’t want to deal with whatever bullshit you’re up to if i say no” also carried into business / personal relationships, which is...very Yikes it’s amazing she didn’t get scammed or worse!) 

so sure, people have complimented her for her exceptional manners & her cleanliness & how quiet / polite she is & how amazing her posture is, bc seriously, this girl will never experience back problems in her life bc her posture is so on par. but where rue typically smiles / responds bashfully, she can’t exactly just up and say: “oh, yeah, my mom used to slap the shit out of me ‘til i bruised if i spoke out of turn or talked back, and if i reached for anything in the store or put my elbows on the table she’d slap a ruler against my palms ‘til i got welts, and she’d make me read verses all night without sleep if i did anything wrong and make me straighten up and kneel on rice if i slouched or took a nap in church and humiliated me in public if i so much as looked at someone of the opposite sex on the street n oh, did i mention i also cleaned houses for rich millionaire snobs from ages twelve to sixteen and if they said or did literally anything to me i wasn’t allowed to defend myself?? ya i’m real proper :)”

(and normal ppl will go: “...................what the FUCK is WRONG with you????”)

but oh man, babe, we’re not done yet!!! rue, being the product of both a highly religious and a highly exploitative household...had difficulty when she started reaching puberty & noticing her classmates. plural, because it wasn’t just boys that she began to secretly have crushes on / fantasize abt, sexually or domestically. she also realized, oh shit, that she started looking at girls differently too. and that literally put the fear of god into her heart, bc if her mother ever found out that she was having non-platonic feelings for the girls in her classrooms, she wasn’t going to be pissed. her mom might have actually tried to kill her. or have her exorcised or something. she knew the shit would be severe, and she wanted no fucking parts of her mother or her siblings inserting the church into her personal life, thank u very much! so rue started suppressing her romantic feelings for people to the point where if adult rue receives intimacy, she’s like “...is this allowed? is this not illegal??????” while simultaneously being like “i will be a slut. just this once. as a Treat to teenage me. :>” regardless, rue learned to molotov cocktail literally any emotion or thought she had, bc she was paranoid that it would give her mother a vision.

now, onto the perils of exploitation...she should’ve been used to it really, what with her mother forcing herself & siblings to lure customers into their shop with promises of visions and palm readings and the wonders of the cards and overexerting their abilities. same with housekeeping, like being of service to people was normal! but when seventeen year old rue decided to sign a record deal and break from home, she wasn’t thinking critically about what the fuck all of this would entail. and as described in this headcanon post abt her discography, her early music was the product of allowing people much older & powerful than you to influence your work & manipulate your values. so rue was very much parading around as someone she wasn’t, someone much more confident and badass and self-assured than she really was, and she was so impressionable back then that it literally makes her sick to think back on it now. she calls it her puppy phase and phrases the eagerness to please execs as ‘tongue wagging’. homegirl hardly even knew her name anymore, bc all she was and all she would ever be was rue, the star, the vocal temptress. not ai’rina, the help or ai’rina, the seer, ai’rina, the weak little nobody. but later on, the subtle manipulation was less about decision making & how they wanted her to sound, and more about how they wanted to present the latest trophy star — because after all, she was pretty. people liked her. she sung really well. suitors weren’t too far off into the distant future. so why not kill two birds with one stone by having a high ranking label artist keep tabloids talking by being seen in public with a few heart throbs? surely, there’s no harm in manipulating an eighteen/nineteen year old’s love life! under the guise of improving her social skills & relations with fellow artists and the media and the like, rue gave into the pressures and let herself be taken out on dates & seen at awards shows with a few guys. no big deal. it was only for a night or so, she could handle the attention. then, one night appearances turned into week long appearances. pretending to date for only a month! completely innocent, positive exposure. :)

(adult rue, looking back @ younger rue: you stupid fucking BITCH-)

yeah, so once her label/management realized that she was turning into a hot commodity, they lost no sleep at allowing their nineteen year old artist to be seen ‘dating’ 20-24+ year old men occasionally. and whatever happened after their public appearances were none of their business. plus, she was good at pretending and being arm candy — so rue experienced her first kiss, her first dates, and her first times with people who she’s almost certain hardly remember their time with her, and really only got involved with her for a mutual career boost. very few of them does she actually remember in a positive light, and the ones that were positive, still depress her bc lmao all of it was fake, even if they were really nice & made it less like a chore and more like they actually wanted to be with her!! even fewer of them were actual relationships. meaning, said person asked her out of their own volition, not bc their managers thought it’d be a decent match on camera. it was evil, really, what her old label made of her. (like, she makes funny jokes that her first time having sex was awkward bc she had a vision halfway through that bummed her out but in reality it was just...really more of a transaction that made her feel icky n progressively worse abt herself until it happened more often and now she just doesn’t care anymore. sex is just sex, u know?? everything’s fake. why you gotta make it personal.) this whole fiasco took over the larger part of rue’s career from like, age nineteen to age twenty-two or so, and she suffered dramatically from this because what is even a genuine, authentic relationship at this point? what do u mean you want to get to know me? did ur manager tell you to ask so many damn questions & try to get to know me? obviously you want something from me bc that’s why everyone gets into a relationship or has sex with me, stop confessing feelings for me u fucking loser. >:/

like...rue doesn’t even have friends. outside of her relationship with marcelo / @armsdealing​ (which, AGAIN, i think was initially arranged to promote her song be honest, how fucking IRONIC), rue does not have any personal relationships with anyone. i mean, she likes her latest management team since switching labels...her hair stylist is rly cool & her make up artist is fun to vacation with...she met a few other celebrities at events that she occasionally texts & has dinner with...yeah, she’s basically a pretty hermit. her family is more or less out of the question — the few brothers & sisters she does still have a positive relationship with (like, four of them lol), they don’t see each other in person often / mainly communicate via groupchat and facetime calls when all of them have time. she tried visiting with her mother over the years, but the verbal & emotional abuse/curses placed on her/accusations of being an imp of satan for singing to the public/memories of being forced to perform psychic shows & clean for chump change keeps her from trying to mend that relationship. like, being gaslit by ur mother isn’t really the vibe, u know? and bottom line, rue simply is a very shy and socially stunted individual who does not know how to communicate like a normal human being anymore. hell, her life revolves around pretending for strangers at this point!

now, onto how...all of That ties into her behavior / state of mind during this next album. so, after riding the wave of success from her third album & the circus that came with that. rue sort of had a fucking existential crisis. came out of absolutely nowhere. (not nowhere — one of her brothers called her out of the blue and called her ai’rina and she literally went “who the fuck is that?”) told her label that she was taking some time in between albums bc she was creatively zapped or whatever bullshit excuse she came up with that somehow worked bc this new label was a little more understanding than the last. vacationed for a little, did some hot girl shit, bought a house, tried to see her mother again for whatever reason then got the shit slapped out of her and finally screamed at her to never touch her again unless she wanted to Throw Hands. cried and got drunk abt it. that took six months. bullshat to her label again, dropped like two songs to smooth things over, decided to focus on magic for a little to ground her, started partying with label mates then going home shitfaced & hungover every other morning. that took eight months. dropped one last song, promptly deleted her twitter, tried to write songs again, got a call from her mother and panicked and got drunk. that took a year. vacationed some more, got even drunker, was bed ridden for like three months because holy shit i’m having so many visions and if i see One More Thing my brain is going to explode, couldn’t separate the present from the future for weeks after that, told absolutely no one about that, cried every day & had an identity crisis, dyed her hair to appease the identity crisis goblins. that took a year and a half.

now, she just chilling. dyed her hair again. scaring her siblings halfway to death bc she keeps going on benders & sending cryptic texts abt the visions she’s getting but they’re so incomprehensible that they’re seriously considering moving in to get her fucking shit together. had a vision that she was married with kids and had a two week identity crisis appeased only by moving houses. (she was in a neighborhood with families...too much Drama and visions. turned into a really cool song tho.) started calling herself by her birth name of ai’rina in private. reactivated twitter to send cryptic tweets that her album is coming. working on said album. trying to drink less but kinda failing bc how is one simply supposed to make a highly personal dual album without alcohol??? prbly somewhere crying in marcelo’s lap or smthn. just vibes.

like...i feel like, in my head, the Theme of her project is wrapped up in identity. her relationship with fame and whatnot. trying to coax her childhood self out of its’ shell so that she can function like a normal goddamn person for once and re-establish her values. like, if someone went to any of rue’s residences right now, it’s just songbooks everywhere and wine glasses and her crystals and shit, bc she still has people’s futures to read for money. (yes, she never really got out of that portion of her childhood, but hey it pays.) it was all very confusing to experience at once while in bed at four in the morning & even though i tried organizing and debated on this, it’s still a Lot. which is why i am once again asking for plots that would allow her to dissect all these Things

so yeah. album four otw, with a side of confronting our childhood & facing our traumas!

#rue — facts #imagine me making a cohesive hc post #it wont happen but like imagine how sexy that would be #anyway this is long and me thinks stream of conscious hc posting is both therapeutic and Exhausting #but i had a lot of thots abt her that needed to be shared to...yeah #abuse tw #alcoholism tw #long post tw #i feel like that its always sunny meme??? yall know which one #but anyways this is somehow overwhelming n embarrassing that i typed so much so i am going to hiding! #UNLESS!...........u want to plot with this Disaster of a woman :eyes:

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The Sweetest Thing: Five

“Buck, you ghosted her,” Steve reminded. 

“I know,” Bucky growled. He was tired of the moralizing. He knew he didn’t have any right to be mad. None at all. But knowing you were dating someone else, that you’d been on three dates with him, was infuriating. 

Not because you were doing it, but because he knew. HE KNEW, the guys you were dating weren’t good enough for you. At best, they were stupid. At worst, they were just after your money. But he was tired of hearing about how much he fucked up. Sam, Steve, Nat... Hell. Tony and Clint. They were all riding his ass, trying to get him to call you. Or something.

Bucky tossed his phone away from him, and Steve frowned, “So instead of being just friends, you’re gonna let your ego get in the way, huh?”

“She wouldn’t talk to me,” Bucky reminded, “Not at the party and not now.”

“Buck, she had a kid with her. It’s not like she had time to discuss your one-night stand and her feelings about things,” Steve snorted. 

Bucky nodded, scowling at his phone. He hoped, whoever this new guy was, he’d bother to find that little spot on the inside of your thigh that made you giggle. Or the little spot just below your right ear that made you melt into a puddle. A needy puddle. Putty in his hands. The thought made his lips twitch a little, involuntarily. He knew you’d been tipsy, just a little. But he didn’t doubt you’d be just as exciting without a bottle of wine. 

He doubted this was love. 

It couldn’t be love. Not really. But it was something. And his heart twisted viciously. He hated that he hurt you, Maybe it wasn’t love, but he cared about you. You looked at him like he was anyone else on the street. No fear of his reputation. Not fear of what he could do. You’d let him into your house and offered to make him a cake. It had been cute. It was comfortable.

Steve watched the expressions that crossed Bucky’s face. And for a moment, he looked like his old self. Reminiscing about the girl he’d been with the night before. Details he’d never given to Steve but kept to himself. Things Steve actually knew about now. Things he’d not ever dreamed of before. He left the table and left Bucky to it. He left him to think and hoped that his current train of thought would lead to him being less stupid. 

________

Bucky walked into the shop and took a deep breath. It smelled so good. It was soothing. But seeing you had set his heart to racing. Nerves jangled his hands, and he swallowed hard. 

It was almost closing time. And he knew you weren’t expecting anyone to come through the door as you loaded the day-old pastry into the boxes. Your head jerked up, looking towards the door, and Bucky froze. Like a deer in the headlights. You’d gone from your polite “customer service” face to just. Shut down. No emotion whatsoever. 

“What can I do for you, Bucky?” you ask quietly. 

“I just wanna talk,” Bucky said, holding his hands out placatingly, “I thought going to your house was a step too far. But you won’t answer your phone so... This was. This was all I could think of.”

You sigh and turn back to your work, “Talk about what? You made your intentions pretty clear when you lied to me.”

“Lie-” he starts, but you cut him off with a gesture. 

“You promised you’d call,” you remind him, “And you said you had to go to work... Well, if that’s the case, it was a short fucking mission given that literally, everyone had you in the background of their Snapchat I got sent.”

Bucky winced, “I- I’m sorry.”

“What I don’t understand,” you continue, “Is why. If you just wanted a one night stand, all you had to do was say something. It could have ended there, and I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Y/N,” he said, cringing, “I- I didn’t want just the one night. I still. I mean.” he felt his cheeks color, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I really- I meant to make you breakfast.”

“So what happened?” you ask. 

“I-” Bucky took a deep breath, “I was trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you snort.

“From me,” he said softly, “From people that would hurt you because of me.”

“Why would anyone give a shit about me?” you ask. 

“Because you’d be a weakness. Someone to use to hurt me... Someone they could exploit to make me be... what I was.”

“By that logic, you shouldn’t talk to anyone ever because with a martyr complex that size, they could use anyone to hurt you,” you tell him, handing him a cookie and the last of the coffee. 

“Probably true,” Bucky said nodding, “But if someone hurt you...”

“If someone hurt me, I’m a big girl who knew what I was getting into,” you tell him.

“My life is dangerous,” he said.

“And I could be mugged on the train home for the money out of the tip jar,” you sigh, “Look. Everything is dangerous. I could burn my face off on a pot tomorrow. My shop could burn down. I could get hit by a bus. I could die at least 18 different ways just from here to my house. And none of them would have anything to do with you.” You stop and smile a little, “It’s a little egotistical of you to assume I don’t have enemies of my own.”

“Is that so?” he said. He can’t help but smile a little, “You steal someone’s recipe?”

“And maybe a boyfriend or two,” you snort.

“That I believe,” he teased, “A real homewrecker you are.” It felt right, teasing you. Eating a cookie and just being in this space. Comfortable. He liked it and was even more irritated at himself for not doing this sooner. He watches as you hand off the pastry you didn’t sell today and sips his coffee. 

“Y/N?” he asks.

“Yeah?” you answer, not looking up from where you’re putting things in your safe to take care of in the morning. 

“Can I walk you home? It’d be a shame if you died before I got a chance to make it up to you.” He holds his breath. He expects you to tease him. To look up at him and say something snarky. But you don’t. Instead you shift uncomfortably. Like he just caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

“Bucky I-” You break off and exhale slowly, “That’d be really sweet of you but I can’t... I have a date. He’s going to be here any minute.”

“Oh,” he says, forcing himself to smile, “Well. That’s cool.”

“I’m sorry-” He shakes his head and you stop. His chest hurts, but it isn’t your fault. You thought he wasn’t interested and moved on. Like a normal person. 

“No,” he said, “It’s fine... I should probably get going anyway. Steve is going to have a lot of lecturing to do.” He smiles and leans over the counter to kiss your cheek, “Call me sometime,” he said, “We’ll get some coffee you didn’t have to make me.”

“I’d like that,” you murmur, feeling like you did something wrong as you watch him walk away, nearly colliding with your date on his way out the door.

#Bucky Barnes #buckyx reader #angst #pining #banter #soft bucky

[madrabbitsociety]

Sometimes, and I do not mean for this to sound malicious, which it will, I feel the need to defend hairdressers. 

Hairdressers and hair stylists are skilled technicians who go through thousands of hours of training in order to hone their craft. Some of us were lucky enough to go to a technical school while in high school and are not in debt. I, however, paid almost $25,000 to go to school. I had to go for 1500 solid hours. In my state, that meant Mon-Thurs evenings for 5 hours a night. In my opinion, people don’t give stylists enough credit for what they need to know to get licensed in their state. Specifically, my license is for cosmetology. I had to know skin disorders, chemical reactions, actual strand structure - and we still don’t get told enough because we don’t get proper training on different types of hair, but that’s a whole different post that a lot of other people have done better than me. 

The predominant way we are paid in the industry is via commission. So if we have no one scheduled, we don’t get paid. If we have a client cancel, we don’t get paid. At my first salon I was expected to stay as early as I could to as late as I could, unpaid, just in case someone came in. Of course, corporate places are mildly better in that they offer a minimum wage, but that’s usually somewhere between $7-9 an hour. In order to earn commission in that type of situation you have to do more in services than what you would have been paid for the hour. Again, probably an entire post in itself.��

I tried a lot of places. I paid a lot of money for a license I was very proud to own. The final straw was a salon near my house. Personality-wise, I really felt like it would work out because I enjoyed the people I was around and I was disappointed when it didn’t work. When I first started, they insisted I do two unpaid apprenticeship days because I was (licensed for 6 months at that time) too new to work on their clients. They would provide models and charge the models a lower service fee than their usual service fee. I would then have two paid days at $10 an hour where I would basically follow the owner around, clean and do shampoos. On my days off, I was expected to want to come into the salon and continue to apprentice for free. There was a point in my apprenticeship phase where I was only being paid two days for 5-6 days worth of work. 

Again, this is not uncommon in the industry. Maybe not to this extreme, but certainly there’s a lot of free work being done. Does your stylist have someone help them blowdry? You might want to make sure that apprentice is being paid.

My skills did improve greatly during this period, but I maintain that was because I put a lot into it. The owner took all the credit- through his great teaching methods, I was becoming an ‘okay’ hairdresser. 

During the apprenticeship, unless you handed me a cash tip, he kept all of my credit card tips. So if you added a tip after service with your credit card, the salon kept them because they said I was using their electricity/taking up space in the salon and I needed to pay for that.

In addition to all of the time I listed above actually being in the salon, I was also expected to attend continuing education classes. In summary, and again this is not an uncommon culture in the industry, if you do not eat-sleep-breathe HAIR, you are told you’re not good and you won’t do well. The only exception seems to be if you have children, but if you’re single/without kids they will work you to the bone.

When I was finally promoted to a junior stylist, I stopped being paid hourly at all. I was told I would get 36% commission for services and I was specializing in color corrections/the blonding journey at the time, so I was doing $200-300 services quite often. Some of those services took 4-6 hours of my time, but if I had no one scheduled I was still expected to straighten up, do laundry, sweep the floors and help other stylists with color application and blowouts. Which is fine, kind of. The problem became that from the start of my journey at that specific salon, I would be expected to arrive when we opened at 10 AM and stay until the owner finished his clients- sometimes I didn’t leave until 11-12 PM, and was expected to come back the next day. 

So yes, one $300 color service could mean that I earned 14-16$ an hour, but… when you’re working 10-12 hour days that kind of knocks it down to minimum wage again.

Then there is the opinion that this is an easy job that so many people can do and you don’t need to be vaguely intelligent to do it. That the people who chose hair are stupid or unskilled. I was sitting on the steps of my school once, reading an Agatha Christie book and comparing certain passages to an ACD Sherlock Holmes story via text message with SpicyMags, when an older couple walked by. The man looked up at the school sign and scoffed, “These girls are getting suckered into a scam. This is nothing but a scam and they’re stupid enough to fall for it.” 

Well, in retrospect, he’s not wrong, but at the same time when you know the blood and sweat and tears- the thousands of hours and dollars that are poured into not only the initial licensing but the continued education classes- being a hairdresser is so much more than people give it credit for. It’s an abusive industry that exploits a lot of unpaid labor and even when you get to a point where you have skill, where you are an artist, you have people asking for a luxury service and then complaining when that unnecessary luxury costs them actual money. 

One last thing I’d love to point out- the 100% customer service guarantee. A lot of salons these days are trying to change, but a lot of them also still have a guarantee that if you don’t love your hair, you get a free redo or a refund. Do you know what that means? Your stylist doesn’t get paid.

So I can spend 6-8 hours on your hair after you tell me it’s been box dyed brown attempting to take you through the lightening journey to get it blond. I can tell you that because of the molecules and ingredients in the dye, the actual damaged structure of your hair, that it is not possible to do it all in one day but I can get you close. I can explain to you the entire process, waste all my time being completely honest with you about how golden it’s still going to look because it IS a journey/process, and at the end you can decide that because I didn’t get your hair to solid white in one go that you want a refund…

And I don’t get paid for the entire day that we spent together. 

That’s some fucking bullshit, but it’s - and this is a quote from several of the places I’ve worked- an “industry standard”. 

The cherry on this shituation cake is that we also don’t get any health benefits, life insurance, retirement- no freaking anything (corporate salons being a slight exception although having worked in the medical field I can tell you the benefits offered by corp. owned salons are not great.)

So please, next time you decide that it’s laughable that a salon quotes you $150 for a craft haircut that takes a certain level of knowledge and skill, remember that the salon gets most of that and if you don’t like it there’s a huge change your stylist isn’t getting paid.

Edit: Things that I did not mention but should have- the toll it takes on your body (repetitive motions and standing in heels on concrete floors cause back issues, neck and hip issues, knee issues, carpal tunnel and risk of cutting off your knuckle with your instruments). I had to sign a release that my school was not responsible for me cutting any part of my body with my shears (I’ve had bosses who lost toes and knuckles). You think that heels thing is a joke? I’ve worked in several salons where ‘female’ stylists were required to wear heels and at least three items of make-up because ‘this was the beauty industry and we had a standard to keep’. Say you gather a clientel and can rent your own chair or booth, you’re responsible for purchasing every single bit of supplies you might need to continue doing what you’re doing, so you’re still having business costs eat into your hourly wage. People need to give a fucking standing ovation to hairdressers, okay, because this industry is brutal.

I’m not saying I dislike doing hair, or that I’d never do hair again, but there are several reasons I’m not doing it right now. 

#madrabbitsociety #mad rabbit society personal stuff

[halictus-writer]

Remus’s Trip to the Grocery Store

notes: 3,582 words. originally posted to ao3 on august 22, 2020. 

non-magical, modern au. first meetings, fluff, humor.

told in 5 parts, the first two happen at the same time but are told from different POVs, same for the next two, then part 5 happens only once.

4:26pm – 4:36pm: Remus

Remus grabbed a red grocery cart and pushed it forwards. He didn’t have a lot of items to buy today, since he was really only stopping for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow morning’s coffee, but the choice between lugging around a basket that increased in weight over time or leaning heavily on a cart that helped maintain a personal space buffer was a no-brainer.

He grabbed his list from his back pocket. Once an envelope containing unsolicited credit card advertisements, it was now a neatly folded rectangle bearing thin but neat cursive lettering, with items such as “bread,” “premade salad,” and “fucking caffeine.” In the middle of deciding which items to grab first, Remus looked up and suddenly locked eyes with a worker at the cash register, immediately forgetting the pros and cons of his most-recently proposed efficient shopping route. The worker was strikingly handsome. Remus took in his medium-length dark hair, blue-gray eyes, and prominent facial structure, before also realizing that he himself was (1) staring, (2) caught in the act of staring, as well as (3) blocking other customers from utilizing the easiest navigational pathway between the frozen foods aisle and the produce section: a triple grocery store sin.

Shaking off his stare-induced stupor, Remus returned to the task at hand: buying groceries and going home before rush hour, eating a moderately-healthy dinner, getting into bed at a reasonable hour, and then reading until 3am. As he compared the price per ounce between two different boxes of granola bars, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander back to the worker. They look to be about the same age, he could also be a student at the local university. Remus wonders what his major might be, and if he prefers to sit in the front or the back of lecture halls, or if he ever skips classes altogether. Before he can decide if grocery-store-cashier-boy is a pen-and-pencil note-taker or a laptop note-typer, a woman’s exasperated “excuse me” comes from his side. Realizing he was blocking the cereal section with his cart, Remus made a hasty apology, before mentally cursing his lack of grocery store etiquette. Normally a champion of the unspoken grocery store rules, Remus determines that it must be the boy’s fault for distracting him. Mentally, he cursed him too.

4:26pm – 4:36pm: Sirius

Sirius flicked the switch under the counter, turning off the light above his cash register. He gave a sorry smile to the woman who had been walking towards his lane, basket in hand, before realizing he was temporarily closing the register. Sirius pointed her to his left where Dorcas was finishing a transaction with a mom and two small children. The smaller of the two kept tugging on the mom’s hand, and asking if he could dye his hair all the colors of the rainbow, like Dorcas’s undercut.

“Sure,” the mom said, laughing, “but only once you’re older.”

“I dyed mine years ago, when I turned sixteen,” Dorcas told the little family. “My parents were furious.” She handed the receipt over to the mom with a dramatic flourish, and offered the kids a conspiratorial wink.

“Hey!” Sirius stage-whispered, “stop corrupting the kids with your lesbianism!”

“It’s not like you’re a saint, with your gay-ass rainbow pin!” Dorcas laughed.

“The day I take off this pin is the day I break Effie Potter’s heart,” Sirius declared. “She was so excited to give it to me the day after Planned Parenthood tabled at her work.” Sirius’s voice trailed off at the end when he heard Dorcas return to her customer service voice, asking her next shopper if she had any trouble finding her groceries today. The rainbow pin actually meant a lot to Sirius, as it represented the acceptance and love shown by his adoptive mother, in sharp contrast to the biological mother who threw him out for his “lifestyle choices.” An additional perk of wearing it at work was that he could scan the groceries of complete strangers and not get flirted with. Except for the occasional man who was encouraged by the pin, but Sirius handled those occurrences on more of a case-by-case basis.

Sirius was clocking out for his break on the computer, when he looked up and saw a customer pushing a cart, wearing the thickest sweater he had seen in use all summer, and carrying a real-life paper shopping list. Sirius couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his face at the sight-- the whole combination was too endearing. His eyebrows shot up when the stranger lifted his head and looked right at him: he was gorgeous. In a very sweater-wearing, paper-grocery-store-list-making, probably-falls-asleep-while-reading kind of way, but still, gorgeous. The shopping boy broke eye contact first.

“Break break break break break!” James’s voice crescendoed as he hopped over towards Sirius’s register, before grabbing Sirius and squeezing just under his ribs, making Sirius jump and swat his hands away. Sirius is not ticklish, except for that one spot, which James annoyingly exploits on a daily basis.

James leaned over Sirius to use the computer to clock out as well, officially making them both free of work duties for the next twenty minutes. There was a break room in the back, but James and Sirius preferred to take their breaks at a closed register line, in the middle of the action, so they could continue to distract all of their coworkers. Sirius silently noted that their oddly-extraverted break-taking location would allow for an excellent vantage point, should the sweater-wearing boy want to make any more eye contact.

“So,” James began, drawing out the word. “Are you going to tell me who it is?”

“What are you talking about, James?”

“Who it is.” He repeated. “You keep craning your neck like a tiny little baby giraffe, looking all around the store. It’s precious. It’s endearing. Who are you looking for?”

“What? No one. Also, I’m not short.”

“Sirius. You are a very abnormally short little giraffe. Who is also looking for someone.”

“Oh my god, you are the most annoying person.”

“But I’m also three inches taller than you.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Dorcas, back me up here.”

Dorcas looked up from weighing a customer’s bag of apples, looked back down to her computer, and said “No.”

James cackled unnecessarily loudly. “It’s one of three options. Number one, you’ve done something wrong and are hiding from the authorities. Number two, there’s a shopper here who you don’t want to see. Number three, there’s a shopper here who you do want to see.”

Sirius tried to keep a sufficient poker face, steeling himself to ride out James’s upcoming monologue.

“Number one is the least possible option. As is common knowledge, Sirius Black is a trouble-maker, which I commend him for. However, he is also an excellent escape-artist. In recent events, Mr. Black has been known to assign the blame to others, even his own brother,” James paused for a dramatic gasp, “in order to avoid the responsibility of his actions. If there were an authoritative body present in this fine establishment, and Mr. Black was on his government-mandated twenty minute break per four hours of hard labor, which he is, then there would be no reason for him to remain in such a visible locale.” James paused theatrically.

Sirius bit his cheek to hold in his laughter; he didn’t want to give James the satisfaction. “Are you done yet?”

“No. Possibility number one has been refuted, but possibility number two is also dethroned by the logic of scenario numero uno. If you were avoiding a customer, you would go to the break room. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen…” James made a sweeping motion with his arms, looking in turn at Sirius, Dorcas, and Dorcas’s current customer, an elderly man who appeared to be either a wizard or quite unaware that Woodstock had ended and his hair had turned gray.

“I’m still not listening,” Dorcas added, although her customer evidently was, having now turned himself fully towards James.

“Possibility number three is the only answer. Mr. Sirius Black has his eyes on a customer!” James gasped and covered his hand with his mouth. The elderly/hippie/wizard customer gasped as well, though not as loud as James.

“James, there is no customer, I was literally just looking because I thought I saw a girl from class. But I don’t think it was her.” Sirius lied. He knew that James wouldn’t mind hearing about the gorgeous sweater-clad boy, and Sirius knew he would probably tell him all about their five seconds of eye contact once they were both at home later. But, Sirius also knew that given the opportunity, James would do his best to embarrass Sirius in front of someone Sirius found attractive. It was best to keep James away during first impressions.

“Liar!” James scrambled onto the table where groceries were bagged, and grabbed the handheld barcode scanner. Now apparently conducting an interview, he spoke into the barcode scanner as if it were a microphone. “Mr. Black, do tell us, who is the unlucky victim?”

Sirius realized that he wouldn’t be able to compete with James’s energy level today, so he decided to join him instead. Speaking into the faux-microphone with a deeper-than-usual voice, Sirius answered. “Well, Mr. Potter, it was a shopper, you see, who is simply adorable, and no further questions will be taken at this time.”

“A-ha!” James announced with glee, and flung the barcode scanner down. “So there is someone!”

Returning to his normal voice, Sirius laughed and offered, “yes, you were right, you are always right, and I saw a boy, but just don’t do anything and maybe I’ll invite you to our wedding eventually.”

“Wow, wedding bells already? Must be a rather dashing young lad.” James could read Sirius like a book, they were practically brothers, and he knew when Sirius was done with a joke. Hoping that he would get to witness an interaction between Sirius and the customer today, James mercifully changed the subject to their weekend movie plans.

4:37pm – 4:42pm: Remus

Ten minutes later finds Remus’s cart holding all of the items on his list-- with the addition of two non-list items: one bar of 80% cacao dark chocolate, and one small pack of green tea mints-- and en route to the cash registers.

Remus noticed that the boy is still at his register, but that he was now joking around with another worker-- a boy with equally dark but messier hair and glasses-- who appeared to be dodging erratic jabs of an uncapped sharpie marker and laughing. Remus momentarily considered avoiding them altogether, but since (1) they are the only register without a line, (2) Remus isn’t buying any weird groceries, and (3) is capable of casual grocery store chatter with someone attractive, Remus steered his cart towards them. Glasses Boy saw him first, and momentarily frowned before his eyebrows shot up into his curls. He poked Attractive Boy, who turned towards Remus and smiled, before turning back towards Glasses Boy to smack his arm. Remus is now close enough to read his name tag, which states Sirius, and is glad to be able to stop referring to him as “Attractive Boy” in his head. He also happily noticed the rainbow pin clipped under his name. The other worker’s name is James, but Remus wasn’t looking away from Sirius for very long.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” Sirius asked, as he quickly types something into the computer. His words may come from the same required script he uses for every customer, but Remus noticed that his tone sounded friendly.

“I did, thanks, how about you?” Remus returned, pleased at keeping his voice calm despite talking to the most attractive person he had ever seen. A beat of silence followed before he realized what he said, and immediately blushed. “I mean, wait, sorry–”

Sirius’s laugh is warm, and it feels like he is laughing with Remus instead of at him, somehow, before he leaned in conspiratorially and offered in a slightly lower volume, “You know, I think I did find what I was looking for.” His eyes remained on Remus’s shocked expression for another moment before he returned to scanning the groceries. Meanwhile, the other worker, James, groaned loudly and took a step backwards.

Now speechless, Remus felt his face get even warmer and was certain he was now the same shade of red as the cart. Could Sirius possibly be flirting with him? Remus knew he wasn’t unattractive, but he didn’t think someone like Sirius would show interest in him.

4:37pm – 4:42pm: Sirius

Now with only ten minutes left of their break, Sirius and James have covered all of the conversational topics available to them within the workplace-- they have updated each other on the happenings of their last two hours, exchanged weird customer stories, discussed the pros and cons of “double texting” the red-haired girl James met in his Anthropology class study group-- and have moved on to entertaining themselves by play-fighting. Naturally, it escalated in volume, and as their manager would say if he was actually on the floor, “obnoxiousness.”

James brandished the barcode scanner and waved it over Sirius’s forearm-- sleeve pulled up to display his constellation tattoos-- screeched a remarkably accurate “BEEP,” and proclaimed that Sirius was worth a total of ninety-five cents. In retaliation, Sirius uncapped a black sharpie marker, and began trying to draw on James. James laughed as he dodged the swipes.

Suddenly, James froze, and looked just beyond Sirius’s shoulder with a small frown. Sensing that their mayhem had finally become noticed by a manager or shift lead, Sirius capped the sharpie and began to draft the perfect story that would get himself out of trouble and throw James under the bus. He was pulled out of his lie-crafting when James poked him in the side, now looking mischievously excited.

Sirius turned around to see the cute boy from earlier, and smiled reflexively. The boy was pushing his shopping cart towards Sirius’s register, and Sirius realized that the boy must not know that his lane is currently closed.

“Oh, yes,” James whispered with glee.

Sirius smacked him and issued a simple warning grunt.

Sirius stole another look at the boy. Now that they are closer, he took in the warm hazel eyes and the few faint scars running between his freckles. Already ignoring the anticipated tormenting he will receive from James later, Sirius quickly logs back in to the computer to be able to ring up the boy’s purchases, despite still being on break.

Now that the boy is actually standing in front of him, Sirius is surprised to find that he is a little nervous. He’s always been a successful conversationalist, and a very effortless flirter. James always pointed out that roughly fifty percent of the annual Thanksgiving food bank donations come from Sirius’s customers. Looking for something to say, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” Sirius quickly cursed himself for sounding so boring.

“I did, thanks, how about you?” The boy answered, and Sirius immediately loved his voice. He had the timbre of an audiobook narrator. “I mean, wait, sorry–”

Sirius’s laughter interrupted him. Deciding to double-down on the flirting to make up for the fact that he opened with a line about groceries, he put the charm back on and leaned forward just a bit. “You know, I think I did find what I was looking for.”

James groaned loudly and took a step backwards from the grocery bags, but Sirius knew he was still listening intently.

4:43pm – 4:50pm: both

“Is your name actually Sirius?” Remus blurted out. Sirius looked surprised, but Remus spoke again before he could respond. “No, it’s a cool name, I really like it actually, but I work in a coffee shop on campus and sometimes I steal someone else’s name tag because my name is Remus which is kind of a weird name but I just realized that I’m rambling so I am now going to stop talking.”

Sirius smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Remus. I like your name too.” Time paused as their eye contact held, and small smiles began forming. The moment ended when James started making gagging noises, empty grocery bags in hand.

“Bye James! Your grocery bagging skills are no longer required.” Sirius said, shoo-ing him away without looking away from Remus. “Good luck with that girl who won’t text you back!”

James smiled mischievously as he began to make his way towards the previously unused break room. “Good luck with your foot fungus, Sirius! Don’t forget to apply your poultice at the top of every hour!”

Sirius shook his head before returning to Remus’s groceries. “You said you work in a coffee shop on campus? Which one?”

“Oh, it’s the UCenter Caffeine House.” Remus is pleased to have successfully said one sentence to Sirius without butchering any social or conversational norms.

“Are you a student then?”

“Yeah, I’ll be a Junior this fall. Are you also a student there?” Remus hoped his question didn’t sound too excited.

Sirius beamed. “Yeah, I’m going into Junior year as well actually!”

“Oh cool, what are you studying?” Remus asked.

“Philosophy. But I’m thinking about adding an Education minor because I’ve been thinking about becoming a teacher.”

“That’s awesome! I’m studying Psychology, but minoring in Education because I want to work in elementary schools.” Remus thought briefly of his seventh grade guidance counselor, Ms. McGee. “I hope I can help people the way that I was helped.”

Sirius paused his scanning, holding the green tea mints in the air, and looked up at Remus again. “That is really powerful to hear. I owe a lot to the psychologists that worked in my schools while I was growing up.” Remus was pleased to hear that Sirius is appreciative of his path, but also that he seems to actually value therapy and social work. “These mints are so good by the way, I just eat them like candy.”

Remus took advantage of the available lighter conversation topic. “Oh good, they reminded me of one of my favorite drinks at work! It’s a blended matcha mint tea. Although I usually add some chocolate sauce to mine.”

Sirius laughed, now scanning the dark chocolate bar, “Sounds like it matches your shopping cart items. Maybe I’ll have to come try this matcha mint drink, when do you work next?”

Now it is Remus’s turn to smile. “I work a closing shift tomorrow! So I’ll be there starting at 4pm, but the baked goods are half-off after 5.”

“Sounds like I’ll see you at 5 then, Remus. Will you be wearing your own name tag?” Sirius asked innocently.

It took Remus a half second to realize that Sirius was referring to his earlier embarrassing ramblings about his name. Not one to be out-done, even by ridiculously attractive grocery store workers, he replied with his own faux-innocence. “Yep, and if you’re coming right at five o’clock will you need to apply your foot fungus poultice at the shop? We have a bathroom inside.”

They both laugh, and Sirius can’t help but feel warmer, as if somehow this boy walked into the store and ended up talking to Sirius for a reason. They maintain a comfortable eye contact, before Sirius decides he should complete the transaction, having long ago finished ringing up Remus’s groceries.

“Did you want a plastic or a paper bag for these? My bagger seems to have returned to his break.”

Remus pulled out the compact folded reusable bag from his pocket. “Oh, I brought my own actually.”

“Perfect,” Sirius said, and they both began placing Remus’s items inside.

“Wait,” Remus interrupted, “did you say return to his break? Are you on break right now?”

Sirius sheepishly pointed up to the box above his register. Compared to the other lanes with workers, it is not illuminated. “James and I usually take our breaks out here, um, because we like being, uh, a part of the action?”

Remus’s face fell. “I feel so bad for making you work during your break; I didn’t realize your lane was closed, but, you were too nice to say anything. Although the thought of you wanting to stay on the floor during your break makes my introverted soul shudder.”  

Sirius laughed, “No, don’t worry, I would have told you I was closed if I didn’t want you here.” Remus smiles in response. “But,” Sirius said, drawing out the vowel, “my break did end while we were talking and I should probably start ringing other customers up.”

“Oh, yes, of course, let me stop distracting you.” Remus picked up his bag of groceries, and took a step towards the exit. “It was nice to meet you, Sirius, and sorry again about interrupting your break.”

Sirius looked up from his station, and despite having already turned on the “Lane Open” sign, called out again. “Wait, Remus, um, your receipt!”

“Oh, I don’t need it, but thank you–” Remus was cut off by Sirius handing it to him, their fingers brushing for just a second.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 5!”

“Yeah, see you!” Remus smiled as he walked out of the store. His smile grew even wider when he unfolded the receipt to see a phone number scribbled in black sharpie.

#halictus #halictus-writer #wolfstar #fluff #first meetings #modern au #non-magic au #short writing

[a-writing-bear]

[AmeriPan] Chapter 2: The ‘Hell on Earth’ Task Agency

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286367/chapters/31876020

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.

Previous Chapter     Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing:  Alfred F. Jones & Kiku Honda (America & Japan)

AU:   Demon AU/HellTaskAgency!AU - Demon!America & Businessman!Japan

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings:  None in this chapter (Future addiction and other themes such as crime, murder, corruption etc.) A bit more PruCan in here

Organised as ever, Alfred should have expected this kind of planning from his handler. They knew that HETA had placed Matthew and him close to their targets, although the jean cladded boy didn’t assume he would be residing this close to his goal. The man in question was quite...adorable to say the least. Coffee-brown eyes paired with a 5’5ft stature was the least intimidating figure, his suit didn’t make the guy look any scarier either. To say the least, it was strange to believe that a cute being like that would be capable of the destruction of an entire company. Then again, Kiku had this weird aura that came off as unnerving and as Alfred had focused in on his soul (or as much as he could within the 30 seconds of the meeting) he recognised a bitterness within him. Slightly stunned and already geared in the mood to pester his new client he strode into the apartment whistling. The sibling glared at him suspiciously,

“Al. You have your fangs out and you smile looks like the time you started a riot.”Matthew noted with peculiar intrigue, eyes going wide as the tanner man explained that his client lived right next door. Alfred tucked his fangs away distractedly, realising that he needed to get used to the unfamiliar blunter teeth.

“But I thought you had to go for that fake job interview thing on Monday?” Nodding, Alfred was slightly puzzled too. His new alias already gave him an excuse to be near this Kiku guy as a personal assistant, somewhere he would be able to meet the man every day. Arthur was probably tryna make it easier for him. Fuck that guy. He didn’t need help adjusting to a human life! He could manipulate that soul easier than a kid using a finger puppet. First order of business, he had concluded, would be to get certain of their surroundings. They decided to get out into the streets and explore the cityscape of New York City. fumbling with his hands they walked out into the streets looking quite clueless to the world, however, they could sense all the different souls whizzing past them, locked within humans who knew nothing of how bright and blinding their souls could be. Noting with interest he recalled that Kiki’s soul had been a cool blue that greyed out ever so slightly, while the woman who had walked past was a dazzling bright red (Too kind-hearted for his liking).

His partner had already started moving down the street in the cold air, clearly in search of something interesting to find. The street lights marked their pathway as they strolled through the cool breeze, every now and again enamoured with any particularly bright soul that puttered nearby. A dainty bell dinged as they entered a quaint cafe a few minutes away. As his Mattie fumbled with a wallet and order on behalf of the two, Alfred occupied a vacant table before hearing a very loud voice which seemed to override any chatter from the other customers. He turned ready to give the stink-eye to the ruder patron but as he came to view a body whole obviously carried no human soul he was left speechless. The culprit in question had looked up sensing Alfred’s aura strongly- pale skin and red eyes all in return with a heavy amused laugh following. Could this be..? The figure partially revealed his wings using his cloaking (which was against HETA guidelines!) and winked before murmuring to whatever company this obvious demon had attracted.

Making his way the man was drabbed in a black zip-up hoodie, left unzipped showing off the thin white t-shirt and his tight black ripped jeans. The demon strolled towards Alfred pleasantly as if making a way to an old friend,

“Hey, there kiddo! New to town- Although I think I know you?” His hands dug further into his pocket as this mysterious thing stuck out his human hand to shake.

The figure tutted as Al failed to respond, “Jeez, at least pretend you’re a real human ma-”

“Are you Gilbert?” Blurting out, Alfred felt embarrassed as there was a pause- worried that he had gotten mixed up - heck for all he knew this wasn’t a demon he even knew! Yeah, those black wings looked quite similar to the description Arthur had given….

“I’m not surprised you recognise me...but uh.I don’t think we’ve ever met in the underworld...you remind me of someone... Am I still talked about?” The American noted that Gilbert’s human form had been given a very distinct German accent and judging from the appearance was residing under the cover of a recent art graduate, his silver-white hair matched with a young face seemed weird but somehow exaggerated the rough and rowdy aesthetic the man held. Recalling the tales and exploits that his former mentor, Francis, bragged about he already could imagine meeting the so-called prodigy demon Gil- the one that had set off many huge chaos points that he had to be put on suspension. If anything, Alfred was jealous that this demon was so highly skilled….and yet he was amazed.

“Yes! Oh but I don’t think we have actually met-I’m Arthur’s mentee. Formerly Francis’...” He had not noticed a sudden peak in Gilbert’s interest, those red eyes flickered with some sort of curiosity and familiarity. “I didn’t think we’d run into another employee this soon...we just got stationed to HETA literally yesterday.” the white-haired man eyes grew wide before bellowing even louder attracting the attention of Matthew who had just arrived with their drinks and those red eyes trailed Matthew’s human form. Did he know Matthew?

“‘We? Are you relate-’”

Suddenly as he came to introduce his partner to Gilbert, his brother stopped before the older demon, lowering his hands- seemingly nervous and suspicious. Gilbert took very little time to appreciate Matthew, that was clear as day as those blood red eyes grew vivid and his smirk faltered into a slight gasp. The two exchanged glances that even Alfred could not decipher, it was just like when he asked about Francis and Arthur’s gave would morph into a mixture of so many emotions that seem to override many others. Okay, he must have met Mattie befor-

“You’re not supposed to cloak your wings. Not even have them out, that’s breaking article 7.” Matthew hissed disapprovingly at the cocky looking demon, disregarding the clear as day brilliance of the veteran demon in front of them. Smooth. His brother obviously was not a seducer, so much for a demon right?

Surprisingly, Gilbert only smiled with gritted teeth, a low growl in his throat as he barked out a reply with feigned hurt: “Ouch, I’m so hurt, although you little thing... aren’t you aware I’m exempt from nearly all commandments and articles?” Alfred got anxious...had he just found himself stuck in a quarrel though Matthew’s aura of awkward annoyance died down and melted easily in the atmosphere as they continued. Alright. they knew each other, he concluded. No One would be caught dead calling Matthew ‘Little thing’ - they would be drop-kicked all the way to Heaven and down to hell in a fury of pain.

“Fuck off man, What ARE you doing here Gilbert?”

“Last time you were happy to find me, Not so excited to see me anymore Little birdie? I think you forget this is my turf this time.” Alfred cringed, God how DID these 2 know each other and why the fuck did Matthew never introduce the legend to him before???

“I meant this cafe! Not the district Gil, I’m not that unprofessional..”

Alfred kept staring at the squabble, The two look back at him embarrassed as they recognised he was still present watching them. Matthew flushed before sitting down at a nearby table, tugging on Alfred to join him- attempting to avoid the gaze of the older being. He huffed dignified, obviously trying not to be pleased that Gilbert had sneaked and sat beside the two twins. Alfred sent Matthew a questioning glare and his brother wavered for a minute before sighing as Gilbert leant closer next to him.

“We met at a directors meeting, Francis brought me to intern that morning-” the pale man had already started fumbling with a lock of Matthew’s hair absentmindedly as if it was a normal thing to do.

Alfred was even more confused “How come I wasn’t invited?!” Again Matthew huffed but this time more peeved than ever but replied firmly and calmly- this interested Gilbert obviously and the older demon grinned focusing on Matthew’s voice.

“Arthur invited you, but you forgot you fuck. I had to take notes for you remember? Too busy seducing some harlets…” His brother’s voice trailed off and an awkward silence fell upon the table. Their drinks were left untouched as Gilbert decided to ask about their missions and who stationed them here. He snickered as they hung their heads in shame when they told him it was because Alfred screwed them both.Gilbert had been in this section of town since the project started, and in fact was the district’s advisor (Matthew proceeded to tell him off considering all of these facts were given in their job file).

*Ding*

A jingle sounded through the small cafe and suddenly Matthew turned to look at his watch before turning to Alfred whispering about how their targets were about to enter simultaneously. Punctual and precise, Matthew was correct as a trio entered through the door, 2 short men dressed in fancy business suits, one was undoubtedly Kiku- Alfred Narrowed his eyes taking close attention to the man’s change in soul aura: It had been bluish gray this morning but now it had morphed to a dull rather very pitiful dark gray, there was a tinge of deep blue but it seemed much more complex than just the first tone from before. Besides him, a slightly taller and more...Germanic(?) Looking lad had a grumpy look on his face and fiddled with a briefcase in hand- to this person’s side was a young girl, her face too gleeful and innocent to be garbed in such professional pencil skirts and a jacket that fit her a bit too snuggly. The rounds of her face and her tiny nose mirrored that of the blonde man- obviously they were siblings or some sort of relatives and she seemed to follow the man closely like a doe infatuated by its mother dear. Hold no doubt though this little lady was not as innocent as she came closer.  Her cheery bright yellow soul had a very deep red core- not the dazzling passionate kindness he would have expected. it was the exact shade as the blonde man’s: an almost wine red, too close to blood and the black fog between the two connected souls obviously hinted to something sinister. The only difference between the assumed brother and siblings was that the man had a green tint instead of amber- this man was greedy. At that moment Alfred once again cursed the fact his brother got a double case, so unfair, these siblings looked like a fun case. They watched carefully as the tallest of the 3 told the girl something and pointed towards the Cafe cashier, they parted as she went to take an order and the 2 men moved for some seats.

Alfred knew Kiku would be naturally drawn to him, so it wasn’t peculiar to see Kiku suddenly perk up confused and look around before spotting him. The perks of being a hell-giver hah. Selfishly he mouthed a ‘hey there’ trying to seem casual and welcoming- yikes he really wasn’t used to his new body but at least he knew his smile was good since Kiku was actually quick to bring his guest towards their table. Thank the devil he didn’t accidentally use his fangs, he still hated these blunt biters. Kiku looked unsure but it was too late as his swiss accented partner had already ask who got him in such a rush and to “Not leave Lili confused as to where we are!”

“I must apologize to my new neighbours, please hold on Mr Zwingli.” That Asian meek voice still seemed so devoid of any evil. Mr Zwingli’s eyes twitched and his brow furrowed, he had seen the Japanese man apologize before but never quite so eager for supposedly the young men that were sitting near this table.

“Yo, Mysterious no-name neighbour! This is Matthew, he’s also in our apartment like I said before and that’s just a friend of ours”He pointed to Gilbert before jutting out a friendly handshake and Kiku obliged before giving his name (Alfred laughed internally, he knew more about Kiku than the man could ever assume, he didn't need an introduction- silly humans) Matthew nodded but took more interest in the man with the Swiss flag lapel pin.

“Pardon me, but are you the Mr Zwingli of Germanian Banking?” The man flinched before looking suspicious but Matthew’s smile was so disarming and seemingly too precious was able to be stop any detection of malice from the blonde man, he coughed before answering shyly.

“Formerly of Germanian Banking, I’ve gone independent now- working in finance with multiple new companies and clients on contracts, Mr Honda’s company is one of them in fact. Excuse my bluntness but...How do you know me? no offence but you look some college kid who woke up without coffee before a midterm…” Alfred could tell Matthew wanted to go hostile but his ass knew it would ruin the job, besides he was a professional even if it meant biting his tongue after insults.

“Finance and Econ.Grad,” his brother spoke, Alfred could only laugh, in the underworld, Matthew was the equivalent to a high ranking lawyer- not some shitty recent grad, what an awful cover-up they were given on earth.

Matthew’s voice carried on, ignoring Alfred’s scoff “In fact I’m looking for some internship work..got any space?” wolfishly Matthew smiled knowing full well his request was undeniable- charms always worked well on the less-socially inclined, and he had studied his case file well enough to know Vash Zwingli was not a social man at heart. In a way Alfred pitied him as he watched Matthew strategically manipulate, humans were too easy he supposed and he hope he was never cursed to be reincarnated as one- Devil have mercy if he was ever stuck with Matthew as one. Alfred’s own target had left quickly to assist the girl who had been stumbling and meekly making her way with 3 coffees on a tray, a balancing act as she navigated the closely knit tables. Her soul was so wild and strange but lightened even more as she arrived next to the banker, she felt more comfortable around him and only as Kiku stood behind her did her light aura flicker once more.

“Grüezi mitenand….” Her voice trailed off after looking at the rest of the crowd.

// (From Lili) [Swiss German] - Hello (to a group, formal) //

Vash huffed before quickly mumbling to his sister “Setzen Sie es auf einen anderen Tisch, wir werden nicht mit diesen ... Zeitverschwendern sitzen. Lassen Sie Herrn Honda einige persönliche Dinge tun. Hämmer kafi?”

// (From Vash) [German] - “Put it on another table, we will not sit with these ... time wasters. Let Mr. Honda do some personal things.” (From Vash) [Swiss German] - ‘“Do we have Coffee?”//

As the two shuffled to another table Kiku continued to stare at the twins, Alfred noted his calculating eyes and how his soul was tinting to an intrigued purple the longer he stared. This was going to be great.

For the first time ever his new human voice came out with an almost southern drawl- one that even the demon himself was surprised to hear come out of his mouth; none the less the new accent definitely caused the Japanese man to snap out of his long stare

“You ‘kay there Mr Kiku?”

God again those bright red cheeks, Al was pleased to know for the next few years he will be able to be the source of those blushes.

#hetalia #ameripan #hws america #hws japan #hetalia axis powers #hetalia world stars #hws #Hetalia Fanfiction #alternate universe #demon!au #heta #multichapter #hetalia fandom #fanfic

[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 9)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: After the S1 Finale, TV Show canon MOSTLY (some S2 and Shadow of Night).

Spoilers: Shadow of Night, Book of Life and Time’s Convert

Summary: Baldwin and Alisha attend a charity silent auction where she gets to meet his other nephew, Gallowglass and a strange young witch with interesting abilities.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

———

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

———

The drive was passed in relative silence but Alisha sensed Baldwin trying to think of something to say, deciding against it, then rewording, and then abandoning his train of thought, the entire time keeping his eyes on the road.

No small feat to render the world’s oldest politician speechless.

“You decided to drive yourself!” She pointed out, thinking of something to encourage him to speak.

“Seemed safer.” He answered, still intent on the task at hand, even more so than the night of their ‘date’.

Something had definitely changed in his demeanour, he was more alert to every source of movement.

“You don’t trust your driver?”

“I trust myself more.” He glanced across at her, “be careful tonight, do not go anywhere alone. Do you understand?”

“You really think a bunch of vampires and witches are going to crash a formal event?” She teased.

He sighed and shot her a warning glance.

“Okay,” she held up her hands in mock surrender, “at your command, my lord!”

Finally, he cracked a smile at this.

“Marcus is right, I think I might like hearing you say that a bit too much!”

“Good.” She noticed his bare wrist.

“Did you forget your watch?”

In what could only be described as instinct, he placed his hand over where it should be.

“Fuck! How did I forget that?”

“Are you alright?” She regarded the usually unflappable vampire with concern.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he admitted, “this is an unusual situation.”

“You’ve never gone to one of these fancy events with a plus one before?”

“I have, more times than I can count.”

“Wow, I feel so special now.” She teased.

“No, that’s...that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I was just messing with you.”

“Are you up for this? Truly? If you don’t want to do this tonight, we don’t have to, I’ll think of something else.”

“No, I want to, I’m curious. Usually end up in the corner with the rest of the orchestra at these things, will be interesting to see it as a guest. Besides, you told me the congregation are worried you’ve kidnapped me or whatever. Seeing us at an event together will put out that fire.”

He glanced across at her.

“What?” She asked, sensing the question he was unsure about asking.

“How are you, really?”

“I’m sad,” she admitted with a shrug, “I miss Michael. I’m also fucking furious at this Gerbert bastard who’s the cause of what happened to him. But, at least I can say that now because I’m not hyper focused on being terrified, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He reiterated.

“You know that you don’t have to do anything beyond just be there? Not everything needs a response or a fix. Besides, I’ve been living your space for a couple of days, you bought me this probably insanely expensive dress and this terrifyingly heavy jewellery to go with it.”

“That’s nothing and you’re staying with me until it’s safe.”

“You think that’s not doing anything? Just be you, it’s helping.”

“‘Me’ can be kind of an asshole.”

“Don’t you dare talk about you like that!” She ribbed gently, making him laugh.

“I’ll try.”

“Feel a bit less uptight?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the last time you did that we hadn’t even spoken yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first time I heard you play, I was so close to firing the entire trading floor. You saved a lot of people their jobs.”

“I knew there was a vampire there that night, your stare is kind of intense. Then, it actually softened, I thought I was imagining it.”

“Your playing is amazing, I would love to hear it again, when you’re ready.”

“Well,” she grinned, “if you’re good, I might treat you to a private concert later!”

Alisha had entered this building possibly hundreds of times in her life, the New York Public Library. Between returning books for Michael or as part of an orchestra for an expensive wedding reception, she thought she knew it well enough.

It was much different being on the other side of the complimentary champagne, especially when Baldwin seemed to be the guest of honour.

“I feel like I’m on a date with Bruce Wayne.” She whispered to him as they made their way through the obviously wealthy crowd.

“Who?” He asked, then smiled when she gave him a shocked look.

“Hilarious.” She retorted.

“Baldwin Montclair,” a man she recognised as the mayor approached, “I always invite you in the vain hope you’ll attend. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your contributions. That said, I was surprised to receive your bid for this one. It’s not a collection you’re usually interested in.”

He turned his attention to Alisha.

“Do I have you to thank for this Miss...” he held out his hand in greeting.

“Black, Alisha Black,” she accepted the handshake, “Mr Mayor, I don’t believe anyone could influence his mind on anything.”

“That’s not true, I believe both myself and Mr Montclair here share the same weakness. Beauty, my dear.”

Baldwin cleared his throat.

“Speaking of which, I haven’t see your lovely wife, is she quite well?” The forced look of innocence on Baldwin’s face as he asked the question was something to behold.

“Uh, no...dear thing she is quite poorly this evening. If you’ll excuse me!” He hurried off.

“What was that about?”

“Mayor Family Values is sleeping with his intern,” he nodded towards the twenty-year-old he was approaching, “the reason his patient wife is not here.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Vampire senses, sometimes we pick up things we wish we hadn’t.”

“And I though daemons cornered the market on gossip, that must be really quite handy for you.”

“How so?”

“Blackmail, spying, that sort of thing.”

“This from the woman who introduces herself like she’s 007, Black, Alisha Black.”

“I knew it!”

“What?”

“You might not follow popular culture but I knew you’d like James Bond!”

“Perhaps my particular talents have helped me in some cases.”

“Baldwin the spy, that’s interesting.”

“I was never the spy, that’s Matthew’s domain.”

“What’s yours?”

“Tactics, discovering the chinks in the armour, the break in the ranks. Finding weaknesses and exploiting them.”

“What if there’s no weakness?”

“There always is.”

“Ah, you’re the General.”

“I suppose.”

“So what’s the General’s weakness?” She asked playfully but the way his eyes flit from hers to survey the room told her she may have overstepped.

“Sir,” a waiter stood with a silver tray on which rested a crystal whiskey glass, “and for the lady?” He asked when Baldwin lifted the glass.

Baldwin saved her by handing her the glass.

“I’ll have the same again.” He told the waiter.

“Thank you, I had no idea what I was supposed to ask for.” She told him before taking a drink.

“You ask for whatever you want,” he told her pointedly, “always ask for whatever you want!”

Alisha felt the flitting sensation of cold from across the room as an alarmingly tall but genial enough looking vampire approached them both.

Even if he did have an expression of surprise.

“Uncle, I really did not think you would be here.” The blonde greeted with the same respectful tone Marcus used.

“You’re Gallowglass, right?” Alisha asked.

“Yes,” the vampire’s expression lightened, “he’s been telling you about me!”

“Not exactly,” Baldwin scowled, “this is-“

“Alisha, I know,” Gallowglass gave her a polite nod, “Marcus has already shared the gossip with me about the beautiful violinist who has utterly enthralled our dear Uncle Baldwin!”

“Tell him it was nice to meet him, he left before I had a chance to say so myself. I doubt your dear Uncle Baldwin will pass that on.” She answered to receive a hearty laugh before he went back to looking around with a slightly nervous air.

“Why are you here, you despise these events?” Baldwin asked.

“That’s not true, I-“

“Gallowglass, there you are.” At his side was a smaller young woman, still taller than Alisha and with an athletic bearing. Stunningly beautiful with long, dark, curled hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Becca, you can’t be here right-“

“Nonsense!” She responded with some excitement.

Baldwin’s attention was elsewhere, he did not see the amused and familiar gaze the young woman was giving him.

“Apologies, Gallowglass, keep Alisha entertained for a moment.” Baldwin stated distractedly.

“I’m kind in the middle-“ Gallowglass protested.

“That wasn’t a request!”

“Yes Seur!” Gallowglass responded like an army private given an order by a superior officer.

“I’m sorry about that,” Alisha told Gallowglass when Baldwin left, “he’s-“

“No need, I know my Uncle,” Gallowglass answered with a comforting smile, “where are my manners, Alisha, this is Rebecca.”

“Becca.” The girl held her hand out and Alisha accepted the gesture, a witch, possibly.

It was difficult to tell.

“Are you a friend of the family?” Alisha asked her, eliciting a giggle.

“That’s an interesting way to put it.” She checked her watch.

It was an odd selection for such a stylish young woman. Antique, brown leather straps with a custom hole to fit her slender wrist and a large clock face with multiple dials, most likely a man’s timepiece, like an old fashioned pilot’s watch from the 40’s.

It was definitely an antique.

“You stay, I’ll deal with that small problem,” Becca told him, turning back to Alisha, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Gallowglass frowned at her statement but she was gone before he could voice his displeasure.

“She’s strange! I like her!” Alisha told him with a smile.

“We’ll see!” He answered just as cryptically.

“Apologies.” Baldwin returned.

“I should have known!” Gallowglass rolled his eyes.

“What?” Alisha looked between them.

“I’ll tell you, when the bid is successful.” Baldwin answered.

“What’d you bid on?” She asked him.

“You know that Matthew has one in his tower? Just ask him for it...when he gets back.” Gallowglass suggested.

“We have a winner of our Lot One. A recently uncovered Guarneri Violin. Created by Bartolomeo Giuseppe Guarneri, del Gesu circa 1725. Congratulations to our anonymous benefactor Bidder 45, and thanks on behalf of the arts of this great city.” The mayor announced to a round of applause.

“That is at least seventeen million.” Alisha told them both.

“Is that all?” Gallowglass grinned.

“I don’t understand, how’s anyone supposed to know who won, or what bid won?” She asked as the Mayor proceeded to announce the winners of the other lots.

“That’s kind of the point, the lots are worth a fortune. For security and privacy the bidders are kept confidential.” Gallowglass explained.

“That makes sense. I saw a necklace that had to be at least a million dollars.”

“If it’s the one I think you mean, times that by at least five!” The blonde laughed.

“I’m sorry, I think I just had a stroke, what did you say?” She stared, stunned.

“Marie Antionette owned it, for a time.” Baldwin chimed in.

“Yikes.”

“Exactly.”

“So, did you win?” She asked Baldwin.

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, reminding her that she still needed to replace the one Christina broke.

“I’ll let you both get back to it, I have to go see what kind of trouble that Lass got herself into. I’ll catch up later. Alisha, you have put me on equal gossip footing with Marcus,” he put his hand over his heart, “I thank you.”

“I’m glad to have met you Gallowglass.”

“The witch? Be careful.” Baldwin told him sternly.

“Uncle, you have no idea!” He left them and Baldwin turned his attention to his phone before standing behind her.

“Baldwin, what are you-“

“Shh,” he whispered lightly in her ear, “I have a gift for you, close your eyes.”

Excitedly, she did as he told her as he took the glass from her and put the phone in her hands.

“This had better not be that necklace.” She warned him jokingly.

“Open them.”

The words on the phone didn’t register initially until she realised what she was seeing.

Baldwin Montclair - Bidder 45

She dragged in a breath that seemed to stick there.

“You can’t.”

“I did, it’s already paid for.”

“It’s far too much, seventeen million dollars.”

“There was some light competition, so it was actually twenty-two million.”

“But-“

“You don’t like it.”

“Like it? I’m terrified to look at it in case just doing that decreases the value.”

“At that price you’ll do more than look at it.”

“You’re not suggesting-“

“It was created to be loved by someone and it deserves that person to be you.”

“I really want to say thank you but that is so not enough.” She turned to look at him, oblivious to the judgemental eyes around them.

“Words can be inadequate, for what matters. We sometimes have to let our actions speak for us.” He agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear, his faint smile thoughtful.

“Do you understand?”

It wasn’t the expense, or even the before-believed-unreachable-prize, but what it meant and what he was saying with it that moved her to lean forward, close enough so that only he could hear.

“I love you too.” She told him and started to pull back to see his reaction, with slight trepidation, hoping she hadn’t misread his non-verbal statement.

Instead he held her close

“We need to go home, now,” he told her, his voice just above a growl, “or there’s a danger that I take you right here in front of these people.

“What makes you think I’d try and stop you?” She hit back, the change in his voice and his possessive words igniting her own arousal.

“Tempting, but I don’t think so. I want you, to myself, in my bed and gasping my name because you’re hoarse from screaming it!” He took her hand and led her quickly out of the hall and towards the valet.

All she could do was marvel at his ability to claim the last word as there was nothing she could say to follow his detailed plans for the rest of the evening.

———

Rebecca watched Baldwin and Alisha drive off from her place on the balcony of the building as Gallowglass joined her.

“You don’t know who she is, do you?” He asked her.

“Of course I know who she is.” She looked him in the eye as she answered, completely truthfully.

“Aye, but you’ve never met her before!”

“You know I can’t tell you about the future I’m from.”

“I remember that from when your parents tracked me down the first time, dear cousin. For them that’ll be happening now! Time-walking is a guaranteed headache!”

“She’s his mate, isn’t she?” She asked him and he gave a nod.

“All things considered, I wish she wasn’t.”

Rebecca gave him a questioning look.

“I’ve always gotten along with your father more than I have our Uncle, but to find and lose his mate in so short a time, I wouldn’t wish that on him.”

“I didn’t say-“ she started.

“Just because I’m pretty, doesn’t mean I’m dumb!” He joked.

“Who knows, maybe all this time messing we’ve been doing will change something!”

“Becca!”

“I’ll see you...soon!” She grinned and gave the vampire a hug.

“It’ll be a while before you can talk and even longer, I imagine, that you stop!”

“No, otherwise how would I get a word in with you around!”

“Oh, so I am still around am I?”

“Merde!” She swore.

“You are your father’s daughter!”

———

PART 10

#baldwin montclair #baldwin de clermont #adow spoilers #baldwin’s nightingale #adow fic #adow #a discovery of witches

[fullymechanized-consoomer]

40K factions and you

Space Marines:

Your favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla, but occasionally you might try some Neapolitan, if you’re feeling dangerous. You’re faction’s lore is designed from the ground up to accept your self-inserts, and the models are some of the easiest to paint in the entire range. None of this matters because no matter how unique you think your super-cool “realistic marines who use real tactics maaaaan” are they’ll always come out looking like a slight variation of the ones below

8th edition has finally allowed you to feel a tiny sliver of the unbalanced and over-costed hell other factions have been stuck in for years, but unlike them, daddy GW is more than willing to spend a little extra on his bulky good bois so they still get all the coolest gear and lore. Like vanilla, small children love them, but they grow out of both eventually. 

edit: it was only a matter of time before GW stamped its foot down and made the inevitable decision that its favorite kid needs to be busted again. Then again in all fairness they toned down their overpoweredness from “godlike” to merely “demi-godlike” 

Imperial Guard:

You’re a big “history fan”. You’ve seen Enemy at the Gates, watched some history channel shows about Nazi wonder weapons, and make 54 karma post on r/history_memes recycling debunked Eastern Front jokes. Only your intelligent eye is able to conflate this factions obvious Metal Slug levels of cartoonish design and tactics with realism, and you make sure to remind everyone else of said realism by comparing your tabletop exploits to your military experience in the reserves. Everyone used to like you back when the faction was actually made up of underdogs and under appreciated, but the Guant’s Ghosts references have gotten kinda stale, and no one appreciates the brass balls of these Starship Trooper knockoffs now that 8th edition supports and rewards the very same mindless horde tactics the Guard used to be mocked for in Lore. Despite having some of the most tried and true designs in the game, as well as an incredible amount of options, you will quickly find how limiting the only “realistic” army is in terms of customization and paint schemes, as anything but camo, grey, or tan looks goofy and reveals how silly this faction actually is. 

edit: If your army consists of wrapping 30 guardsmen around basilisks I recommend you take a short fall down a long flight of stairs. Fuck you, Evan.

Eldar:

You’re a real shooter. You know what you like and you stick with it, cause lets face it, it takes a lot of loyalty to stick with these arrogant pricks. Their designs are unique but dated, their lore is a uneven mishmash of 40k grimdark schmultz Tolkien telephone, and Oliver Twist-esque whipping bois for whenever GW writers need to remind us how cool Space Marines are. But none of that matters because you know the truth: Eldar can kick tons of ass on the board, and look good doing it, as their unique designs lends them to all sorts of brilliant color combinations

And unlike other armies their rare design updates improve on their aesthetic while keeping their 40k-ness, something that is becoming increasingly rare in this era of Tacticool marines and Fantasy-creep. Just don’t expect to be taken seriously by anyone but the old-heads.

Edit: Leave it to the whipping bois to be outshined in their own event and get a single model update. Thanks GW, very cool. 

Dark Eldar

You are one of two people: a meta hopping smooth brain who only jumped ship once these guys got one of the best updates in 40k history, or a true intellectual who understood their hidden merit all along. Other faction players like to make fun of you for being edgy, when in reality you know that the Dark Eldar are just a bunch of sociopathic theater kids. They, like you, know how fucked from top to bottom this universe is, and instead of getting depressed they exclaimed “how can we be the best cartoon villains we can be?”. Despite having a relatively bare army list, the fact that these d-bags come in 3 flavors of crazy in a single army offers a ton of variety: the mustache twirling villainy of the Kabals, the crazy bloodstained snuff-stars of the Wych cults, and the BDSM horror show of the Covens. All three offer substantial benefits and drawbacks and must be played carefully in order t- 

Who am I kidding? You’re just gonna stuff  a bunch of Kabal warriors into Venoms and zoom around the map, aren’t you? Enjoy that speed, because your abysmal save stats wont protect you anything more than a furiously thrown walnut. At least your corpses will look rad clad in some of the grimest armor and gear in the game. 

edit: no longer anywhere near as dominent as they were in the earlier years of 8th, but they still look slick as hell and play great. 

Orks

Your IQ randomly jumps from 20 to 200 throughout the day. There is no predicting this, no planning around this, no stopping this. You’re best bet is just to go along with it, and that’s why you play Orks. Orks are roudy good-time buddies who love slapstick slaughter, not having thoughts, and occasionally pulling of cunning plans that human savants would struggle to comprehend. Orks seem to be the only faction that know what joy is, which is why you as a player spread it to everyone else. Yes, the memes and screaming can be a bit much to others sometimes, but like with any other mentally handicapped child  everyone around just grits their teeth through your bad episodes if it means not upsetting your unique sensibilities. And considering that this army’s aesthetic revolves around cobbled together nonsense, you have a lot of uniqueness to give. Orks are easily the most creative faction in the game when it comes to conversions. Nothing is too goofy, too dumb, or too silly to scrap together. As for performance on the tabletop? Go ham. This is an army that rewards merry bullshit and randomness. Remember, you didn’t pick Orks to win, you picked them to have fun. 

edit: So are Orks actually getting anything or what? GW’s plans for this faction is as chaotic as the minds of the ADHD scrambled minds who play them

Necrons

You have a very specific taste in... funky weird-science space Egyptians. Seriously, these guys are practically a completely different army to what they were a decade ago. Gone are the terminator references and eldritch lore nonsense, and here to stay is senility and glyphs. You lie to yourself, saying that you’re not really sure why you chose Necrons, but I know the truth: you chose them because they used to be busted. They used to be unfair. They used to be able to take out top-tier tanks with their version of pea shooters and come back after every turn. So overwhelmed were you by their dazzeling stats and bullshit cheese your brain’s wiring fried and the erratic firing of billions of flayed neurons made you think Necrons had cool lore and interesting models. But now they’ve been nerfed to hell, and you’re no longer stuck in that lasting state of sensory overload. Like a drunk snapping awake with a hangover you come to the painful reality: Necrons are kind of dull. So like me, you put them away in a shoebox forever, leaving their fragile sculpts to slowly fall apart.

Edit: FUCK WHERE IS THE SHOEBOX WHERE DID I LEAVE IT OH GOD OH OH NO OH FUCK THEY’RE ALL BROKEN MAYBE I CAN PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER BEFORE 9th EDITION LAUNCHES I’M SO SORRY FOR WHAT I DID TO YOU NOW MORE THAN EVER I NEED YOU, I NEED MY BOOOOOOOOYS!!!

Tau

You will forever be hated by the community unfairly. You are accuse being anime - and this is true - yet the Eldar get away with being copied wholesale from 80′s space anime and no one seems to notice. You are made fun of for your bad melee, despite having one of the most comprehensively designed niches in an otherwise sloppy game and dominating with nearly every edition. You are made fun of for your lore, despite being largely separate from the cliches and story traps that everyone else has fallen into. You are hated because you are different; hated because you are Asian. 

Tau are an anomaly in 40k: a completely new faction that wasn’t directly ripped off of some other franchise and with an aesthetic that is wholly their own. I won’t be making fun of them because they get enough of that, and you don’t deserve it. Just know this dirty secret: Tau outsell almost every other xenos faction, and despite the supposedly unanimous hate are probably one of the strongest factions in terms of play-style and modelling in the franchise. 

Edit: The tau are grittier than ever, happy now? They still do the same thing they have always done anyways.

Chaos

Unlike the DE you actually are edgy. You worship satan, you throw rocks at homeless people, you start fires because your dad doesn’t spank you enough. Chaos are the closest things that this cluster fuck of a universe can get to being the main villains. Their lore is at once intricate and stupid, both childish and metal as hell. You play chaos because getting your fingers pricked by the models’ spikes is the closest you can come to feeling anything anymore. Just like the chaos lore you love to hype yourself up, to puff your chest and revel in the darkness inside, but when confronted you tend to fold like wet tissue paper. You’ve stopped playing public games with these guys, because the other players don’t understand you and abuse the meta and make fun of your painting skills and  everything is so unfair and don’t you think that chaos marines should get buffs for their points cost, fuck?

Edit: The new models are slick and more power-metal minivan than ever, though the rules are still abysmal despite GW desperately wanting everyone to takes these guys seriously for once. 

Sisters of Battle

GW writers and designers hates Catholics and they hate women, so naturally they hate Sister of Battl. They also hate you for playing them. Because of this SoB are a monument to neglected potential. They have one of the best female armor designs in fiction, great lore, and an interesting playstyle that relies on faith/determination based feats of strength and valor... but GW hate Catholics and women, so SoB get shafted everywhere all the time. More often than not you will be disappointed reading about their exploits as they continually get unfairly slaughtered, corrupted into the horny service of the pervert god, or used as receptacles for blood-based paint when the writer’s favorite faction needs to fight demons. With no plastic models in sight for over a decade everyone began to come to the slow and dreadful realization that GW was looking to Squat our favorite estrogen warriors, until a new revamp was announced. Unfortunately the beta rules look as lackluster as ever, but that’s fine, because as a SoB fan you have learned to expect that GW hates you, Catholics, and women. 

Edit: GW found God and got woke because now they love women and Jesus’ one true Church, but let it be known that reformation doesn’t occur overnight, as the SOB’s faces still betray GW’s lingering discomfort in the female form:

Their rules are fun, and if every codex was designed like it 40k might actually be a fun game

Tyranids

nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom no- and that’s it that’s the Tyranids. I don’t know anything about them besides that, and neither do you, cause that’s their lore. Yes they have cool models, but next to no reliable updates. I’ll pray for you.  

Edit: it really looks like GW has just completely forgotten about you poor souls huh? The Night King, a character who is closely associated with the totally-not-reconned-Tyranid-invasion, comes back and not one word about you guys. They don’t even actively hate you like, say, they hate the Eldar. It’s just... apathy. 

Grey Knights

HAHA AHAHAHAHA HA HA UHAHAHA HAHAAHAHAAHAH HAHA ha ha Ah......... he. hehahaaaAHAHAHAHA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

edit: I hope you all realize that Grey Knights are far too specialized in fighting the permanently under performing forces of chaos to be 40ks “elite among elite.”  You and your entire faction has been made completely obsolescent by the Custodes. The rough times will continue, say hi to the Squats in heaven will you?

Custodes

You are either insufferably full of yourself or a fine practitioner of the model making craft. Most likely though you are neither, and you picked them because you only need gold and red paint to make them look good. Custodes are the space marine’s space marines, and they’re better than you and everyone else. period. At least in lore. On the table their incredible individual stats and elite status are reflected in points cost, so for most large games you will be fielding what amounts to any other faction’s skirmishing army. Unfortunately, since 40k is a stat-sheet battler that favors raw bulk of rolls and stats over the quality of them, you’d be hard-pressed to do well in any serious game. However, for the luminous of mind, the small size is a blessing in disguise since you don’t need to buy and paint as many units as the other armies, and no matter how hard the guard player trashes you his 50 unpainted manlets will never look as good as your 15 gloriously crafted golden Chads. Stick to smaller games, and the individual strength of each model will make up for the glaring absence caused by their loss.

Ironically enough despite being an elite faction from a relatively obscure part of 40k lore, these attributes make Custodes the perfect casual player’s faction. It is my personal theory that if GW didn’t grossly inflate their prices to such a high degree everyone would have a Custodes army. 

Oh yeah, Henry Cavil plays these guys, because of course he does. 

#40k #warhammer 40k #table top

[caffeineivore]

R/J for BAMF and Charlie

For @apsaraqueen and @coppercrane2, follows this

**

The 18th Room is sleek yet dim, echoing the air of mystery surrounding Prohibition-era speakeasies but featuring all the modern amenities one would expect out of a trendy spot in New York City. Raven arrives at nine o’clock on the dot, because ‘fashionably late’ does not apply to everyday standards of etiquette, and furthermore, one does not turn up late on a reservation in Manhattan if one actually wanted to be able to enjoy one’s drink and food for that night. She’d offered to buy the UCLA professor, Jude Huntley, a drink for returning her bag in person, of course, and had given him the address to meet her up there that evening.

“Hello.” She hears his voice, warm and slightly gravelly, sound behind her, and turns to see the Good Professor, looking a bit less nerdy shaven and without the elbow patches, smiling at her. Weirdly, though the white shirt and dark gray blazer are certainly more appropriate night-out apparel, she thinks the look from earlier in the day had suited him more. He still wore the glasses, though, and the low lighting of the place glint off the lenses, shine brilliantly in his blue eyes. 

“You made it. Good. They have custom drinks here based on what you like, and pretty good food.” It’s a bit of an abrupt greeting, but Raven isn’t quite sure what to make of Dr. Huntley and his actual presence in New York City for apparently no other purpose than to return her bag. When in doubt in dealings with the male of the species, toughness was always a good default to fall back on. 

“It’s definitely some very cool digs. I can’t say that bars back at home look much like this. Like something out of an old movie, almost.” 

They get seated, and both of them opt for the custom-made cocktails. Raven gets a smokey-sweet Scotch concoction with ginger beer and Angostura bitters, and Jude opts for something with gin and an orange twist. They share some small plates, and of course when Jude asks her about her day, she is not surprised. These are normal pleasantries, and no one truly wanted to pass a cocktail hour in awkward silence, but he leans forward and listens as though he actually cares, and that’s a bit more off-putting.

“Morgan Austen? You were negotiating a contract with her? No wonder you wanted to kill me for grabbing your bag by accident.” His smile, even apologetically full of chagrin, is lethal. “I can’t say that I’m hugely in favour of starting kids out young in the entertainment industry, but she seems surprisingly well adjusted whenever we see or hear her on the news.”

“She was born for this, and as exploitative as the industry can be, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and I definitely don’t just mean all that shampoo-commercial blonde hair.” Raven’s mouth firms, and she squares her shoulders. “She’s a good kid, weird unorthodox Hollywood upbringing aside. Nothing’s about to happen to her if I have anything to say about it.”

“I understand what you mean.” There’s not even a hint of a patronizing tone in his voice, just simple understanding. “I can’t say that I get to know every single student who enters my lecture hall, but you always get to meet some, and you always hope that whatever they learn from you academically aside, they’ll remember you as a positive figure in their development as young adults. I know full well not all of them will go into a Chemistry-related field, but I hope no one hates me or my class, all the same.”

“Aren’t you going to be exhausted, going to your class tomorrow after flying in all the way from here?” That still didn’t make sense-- the fact that he’d crossed the entire continental United States to return her bag. Not that she was ungrateful, of course. Or that she was hating this time and conversation right now. Jude Huntley might be a virtual stranger whose life intersected with hers in the most random of ways, but he was... nice. In such a low-key, easygoing type of way that it lowered even her fierce defenses. 

“Well, LA’s three hours behind, so it will still be early enough in the day by the time I get there that I’ll have a few hours to rest before having to stand in front of a bunch of grad students and talk about metabolism. And besides, I’ll have plenty of time to grade the rest of those lab reports on the trip back. There’s not exactly much to do on the plane, otherwise. I’ve already gotten a head start on them earlier today, before meeting up with you.”

That has her chuckling despite herself. “You’re in New York City and not during the tourist-mad seasons of Christmas or whatever and you’re holed up in your hotel room grading lab reports? You could’ve done a bunch of other stuff for fun.”

“I could’ve, but it’s no fun doing the touristy thing alone. I don’t exactly know anyone here aside from you, and I can barely claim that acquaintance, either, could I?”

“I don’t know, I don’t usually meet people up for drinks unless it’s somehow work-related. There are almost always too many fucking people, everywhere. At least it’s not a Friday afternoon happy hour in the Financial District. Banker Bro’s probably have a whole level to themselves in Hell waiting for them someday.” 

“Well in that case, I’m definitely flattered, and honoured.”

Their food comes, and it’s undoubtedly his relaxed, no-pressure manner that makes her linger over her Scotch and stuffed zucchini flowers and the easy flow of conversation. Jude-- and since when did she start thinking of him by his first name on such short acquaintance?-- had been born and raised in California, though he’d lived in the Bay Area before moving out to SoCal for school, then work. They talked about some of the more problematic youngsters they’d had to deal with in their respective jobs, as well as the merits of the dollar slice vs. the daily special off the taco truck. Raven’s a diehard bagels and lox and coffee for breakfast type of girl, and declared smoothies and avocado toast to be faddish and overrated even if a great deal of the models booked with the agency seemed to enjoy them. Jude laughs and admits that he’s not much of a green juice sort of guy himself, but claims that the mythical long lines at In-n-Out are worth it.

At some point during their conversation, some of the other patrons start dancing to the jazz music playing in the background. It is definitely not the sort of place most people out on a date night would expect to dance-- no grinding, or DJ’s, or top 40′s here. The music’s something from the Gatsby era, and tastefully muted so that conversations at the tables and bar could still be conducted without leaning in and shouting. After a handful of sets, Jude holds out his hand, one blond eyebrow slightly cocked, and gives her that should-totally-be-illegalized smile again. 

“I feel like I should ask you to dance. Of course, you can say no if you don’t want to.”

She’d consider this a move, coming from anyone else, probably. And it could very well be one. And really, she has utterly no business encouraging any moves from anybody on a weekday night, and certainly not some Chemistry professor who lived three time zones and close to three thousand miles away, here only for a night, and really not supposed to be here at that. But she can’t seem to summon up the resistance to that smile and those baby blues and the way he listens as much as he talks, and lets her hand land on his, palm to palm, let their fingers twine together. His hands are big and warm and a bit calloused-- rougher than she’d expect from some geeky science type-- and somewhere, deep inside her chest, her heart thumps out of rhythm and her consciousness whispers, almost self-deprecatingly, “Oh, shit.”

#R/J #apsaraqueen #coppercrane2 #senshi/shitennou #fanfiction #fanfic #sailor moon

[scorpionistc-blog]

The massive LiveJasmin

The massive LiveJasmin would have you believe it's owned by "Gestao e Investimentos, Lda", a company based in an autonomous region of Portugal — and has a host of fraud complaints lodged against one of its subsidiaries. But a recent tax bust against LiveJasmin's Hungarian CEO Gattyán György — one of the richest men in Hungary — and his corporation, Dolcer Holdings, shows just how muddled the corporate picture is. No doubt deliberately.For Lana, 31, webcamming has provided enough money for her to bring up her daughter alone, and to think about investing money in something "that will bring money to the country". She plans to give up in two years' time.As with most sex work, webcamming doesn’t have the best reputation. It’s often seen as exploitation or a last-resort hustle to pay off debt, but Reed Amber, 26, explains how webcam models are just your average self-employed freelancers with the same amount of agency and independence as anyone else."It's up to you as a woman to lead, and that's quite empowering.

To investigate, I visited the biggest camming studio in the US, Studio 20 in Hollywood. A lot of times, when you sign onto a popular cam site, or when youre on a porn site and a camming ad pops up, it looks like the girls are camming from their bedrooms. Actually, though, a lot of the time, theyre camming from studios like Studio 20 that are basically these buildings filled with rooms decorated like bedrooms.It's very possible, but if they do no one has ever said it to my face. I used to be in porn production for big companies, and that was probably the only time I experienced negativity. I told a guy about what I do and he was like I don't agree with porn. These women are being forced to do something they don't want to do. It's degrading. He did bring up some good points but I argued that it was the same as any office job. Your boss is going to fuck you over or you don't get paid, right? It's the same. At least with webcamming, I work for myself and I can choose how much I earned, and if nobody wanted to pay me that [amount], they wouldn't come to me.Her friend, "gave [her] sex toys" and she was on her way, waking at 6am each morning in order to hit American-internet primetime. She hopped from studio to studio, at times living with her employers (and their unwanted advances), still far enough from self-sufficiency that she had to depend on them for support. One had a wife who insulted her constantly. She had to work, almost every day, on strict, long, tiring shifts, doing the same performances over and over and over again. She was an urbanite, but she was still a poor stripper in a small room. When one studio boss lost all of his money and had to move in with a friend, Anna had to go along, having lost her room, board and virtually all of her possessions.She started as a nervous 18-year-old girl and cashes in on her signature 'innocent' look – pulling her hair into pigtails before she heads online to meet her guests.

Her friend, "gave [her] sex toys" and she was on her way, waking at 6am each morning in order to hit American-internet primetime. She hopped from studio to studio, at times living with her employers (and their unwanted advances), still far enough from self-sufficiency that she had to depend on them for support. One had a wife who insulted her constantly. She had to work, almost every day, on strict, long, tiring shifts, doing the same performances over and over and over again. She was an urbanite, but she was still a poor stripper in a small room. When one studio boss lost all of his money and had to move in with a friend, Anna had to go along, having lost her room, board and virtually all of her possessions.Odds are, you're referred by a newspaper or website listing. Maybe a friend suggested you try it out. Maybe you're shifting from traditional strip club work to the online equivalent — a popular trend in wealthier countries. Maybe you're working in a brothel where web camming is just another expectation. Whatever the case, you'll have to stream yourself through a web cam portal, one of the massive sites that catalogues thousands of models and acts as a go-between between customer and model.Domino has it pretty good — an American with ample property and a cushy career based on sex she enjoys. Not everyone is Domino.I'm definitely one of the cam girls who would hardly ever say no. I've always wanted to try new things, but that's not because I felt like I had to. It's just personally what I want to do. I want to tick stuff off my list, I want to try everything once especially when it comes to sex positivity. Even if it's something I'm not necessarily into, I'd still give it a go. If I didn't like it, I'd be like sorry, I'm not really into that. But there's a lot of people that would say no to a lot of stuff. CONTINUED BELOW...

[lokis-lady-death]

Return to Crimson Peak

Disclaimer: This story is written as a sequal to Crimson Peak. If you couldn’t handle the original story, please don’t read, because that would be dumb. 

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Mini Series Halloween (Special thanks to @bambamwolf87 for going back and forth on this idea!) 

My name is (y/n), and I would like to tell you a story.

A love story. Filled with hate. Filled with sin. Something real and imaginary, exciting and terrifying.

I want to tell you a ghost story.

There were all kinds of ghost stories that have floated through the world, like a dense fog, capturing the imaginations of those who hear them. Some based as far back as when nobility and class were all anyone cared about, some as notorious as Jack the Ripper, some as tragic as children getting taken by monsters. Each story holds some truths, based on some sort of factual event that forever concretes the illusion of a ghost to the world of the living. Alas, they all inevitably fade away. They become fables we tell children, destined to be nothing more than boy scout campfire tales.

Utter nonsense really.

But then, every once in a while, against all reasonable belief, there is a ghost story so rifeting, so heart wrenching -so full of lust, ambition, and murder- that at the end it leaves one questioning their sanity.

Crimson peak is one of those ghost stories.

The first time my brother Luke and I heard the story of Crimson Peak was from our grandmother. I remember visiting the family home in Buffalo, New York, listening to her spin fantisful tales of this or that while pouring me tea. Grandmother was a wonderful storyteller, a trait I was told she inherited from her own mother, Edith McMichael. Better known by her maiden name, Edith Cushings.

She told us that Edith had grown up a beautiful, well educated woman of the upper society of New York. An unwed heiress that only cared about one thing: writing stories. That is, until her own story had an unexpected character added to the plot. Thomas Sharpe.

From there, everyone knows the story, most likely even read the book.

But this story became something more to my brother. He wanted more than the book. He wanted the experience.

He wanted to see and live it for himself.

As he grew older, he researched more into the story and found the home in which everything took place: Allerdale Hall. As it turned out, the gothic mansion had been made over to be a secluded, lavish hotel for rich bureaucrats traveling the English countryside in the 50’s, however in the 80’s the attention died down. It went a long time without use until 2010 when a new owner took over and turned it into a Victorian Bed and Breakfast with a twist: while it’s 50’s counterpart tried to pretend nothing awful happened in that house, the new owner exploited it. There was even an episode of Ghost Hunter filmed where someone stayed the night in the bed and breakfast. They stayed in Lucille’s room but never saw her ghost. He did say the new owner and her husband were rather odd, though he thought they were just trying to give into the haunted theme they tried to portray.

It was disheartening to say the least that other than the story of Crimson Peak itself, it seemed like there was no actual haunting. I eventually lost interest and moved on with my life, diving into school and social life. But not Luke. He still felt drawn to the story and after working doubles for two months and convincing me to split the fees, we were set to travel to England and actually stay the night in Allerdale Hall.

Which is where my story begins.

*****

“This is it!” Luke exclaimed, heaving one bag onto his shoulder and another under his arm. “Crimson Peak!”

I cut my eyes at my brother, almost annoyed at the whole situation. His Ghosts are Real shirt, his bag of ghost summonings, our grandmother’s copy of Crimson Peak all in hand so as to crescent it with what he deems the unholy land. “I can’t believe you talked me into this…”

His blonde curls bounced as he turned to face our home for the next few days. “But… Just look at it, y/n....”

Turning up from the cab, I took in the entirety of Allerdale Hall. Grand, magnificent, dark, and foreboding, it stood against a gray canvas of fog. In front of it, the key part of the entire story, Sir Thomas Sharpe’s mining invention.

My eyes followed upward the structure, absorbing every last archway and stone of the complex before resting on a single window where I caught sight of a pale faced man.

I was snapped back to my brother when he called my name for what I had to assume by his aggravated tone was not the first time. “What?”

“I said grab your shit, I ain’t no packmule.”

I grabbed my bags and followed him through the double doors.

Inside, it was evident all the work the new owners had put into the mansion. It was extravagant but dark, framed perfectly with a massive wooden staircase that opened all the way to the other floors, victorian era artwork lining every inch of wall space, and a single grand crystal chandelier shining over the foyer.

“Welcome!” called out a british accent. A pink haired woman popped up from behind the registry desk with a gleaming, misplaced smile. “I’m the owner, I go by Rain. You must be the Cushings!”

As if the overtly brightness of her hair was too much for the gothic mansion, she countered with a steampunk style victorian dress of silk, leather metal loops and chains that dangled from her sleeves and a leather corset hugging at her waist.

“Actually, that’s not our name…” I corrected while Luke simply began signing the guest book.

“But you ARE descendants of Edith Cushing, right?” she pushed.

“I… Yes, we are. How did you...?”

“I found you on Ancestry.com! I have been a huge fan of your great, great grandmother for a long time! I saved up for years to buy this place,” the owner said as she looked around the empty lobby with a since of overbuilt romanticism. “Crimson Peak has always been a passion of mine.”

“You two should get along swell then,” I mumbled as Luke laid down the pen. “Now, about our rooms….”

“OH yes!” she exclaimed while pulling out two skeleton keys, handing you each one. “You will be in the west wing, Lucille’s old room,” the owner told Luke. “And you,” she said with a sideways grin, “You’ll be down the hall in Sir Thomas’s room.”

I took the key and stared at it, feeling my heart start to race. “I....”

“Excellent!” my brother cut me off, taking the sets of keys. “Are we allowed to explore some?”

There was some mischief behind the owner’s eyes when she answered, “Its actually encouraged.”

While Luke looked more than please, I had to stop and ask, “Won’t that be disruptive to your other customers?”

“Judging by the guest book, we’re the only ones staying here.”

“Correct! We normally slow down on visitors during the colder months. Which is a shame, because that’s when things always get fun around here.” Rain cut me a wink before finishing, “Now, enjoy!”

Luke’s hand grabbed hold of my shoulder to steer me away from the desk. “Yes, we will, thank you, Ms. Rain!” Just passed her I could make out another grand room with a marble fireplace and piano.

“That’s where Lucille used to play music for her brother,” Luke told like an extremely zealous curator at a museum. I wrinkled my nose, remembering that detail from the book. “Come on, let’s go find our rooms!”

At the base of the stairs was a framed layout of the house to help guests find their way around. A large YOU ARE HERE arrow laid out where you began. Luke’s finger followed the line up to the right and down a hall to West Wing where the two of you would be staying.

Luke held out my key before flashing me one of his overly excited grins, he spat out, “Race ya!”

Before I could argue how rude, childish, and annoying he was being, Luke was off. Never one to be outdone, I bolted up behind him, hoping I remembered the layout. By the time I got to the top of the stairwell, I saw my brother’s sneakers right before they disappeared down a hall. When I got to the opening of the hall, I turned and saw no one. Taking a few steps forward, I listened intently to try and pinpoint where my brother had gone.

But nothing.

“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath. Giving up on the race, I let out an exasperated sigh and wandered deeper in to the house.

‘Do I turn here?’ I asked myself when I found another hall off the main one. I still didn’t see Luke, so I called out for him but I got no answer.

A round window at the other end of the stretch was all that illuminated my path, casting shadows from the intricate woodwork of the moldings and ceiling.

I was distracted when I heard a soft disruption in all the stillness of the house. I stopped and listened. Someone was moving around in one of the rooms, but which one, I wondered. Following the sound, I came to the end of the hall. A light on the other side was so bright that it boiled through the small gap where the door met the floor. Some more ruffling from the other side confirmed I was at the right room, I could even see shadows move through the light.

“Luke, is this your room?” I asked, going to turn the knob. But it was locked.

“No?” I jumped when I unexpectedly heard his voice from the other end of the hall, where I had just come from. “What are you doing down here?” he asked, “We’re this way.”

“I heard someone, I thought it was you...” I turned back, eying the floor where the light shone through. But there was none now. No light. No movement. Just stillness.

“Oh…” I swallowed but shook my head, knowing it had to be my own imagination getting the better of me.

“You’re already getting haunted?” Luke asked with a hint of jealousy.

“No, you idiot, this stupid house just has me on edge is all.” I grabbed up my bags and eyed him. “Now show me where our rooms are so I can sleep off this jet lag!”

Back down the main hall, he showed me where a set of double doors led down a private wing. The West Wing.

“Here’s your room,” Luke said, taking my key to open it. “My room is the last one on the left.”

The door creaked so horribly it felt like it echoed through the whole mansion.

It did not disappoint. The room, like everything else in the house, was massive, the walls solid wood carved and etched with such fine, minute detail it felt like a painting. The ceiling had golden loops around where two chandeliers hung on either side of the massive four poster bed that sat opposite of a fireplace.

“Holy shit…. Maybe this won’t be so bad, “ I reasoned as I pulled out my phone to text my friends back in the US.

Luke’s voice cracked as he watched, knowing what you must be doing. “Actually, I had one thing I had to tell you, and don’t freak....”

“I HAVE NO SIGNAL?” I raged as my eyes narrowed at him. His hands were up in defense, waiting for the slew of slaps he deserved, but I just let it go. “Fine. Ok. Whatever. Have you found the WiFi password?”

“Actually, about that…”

“Luke…”

“It’s good to take a break from modern advances now and then, y/n, you know it’s healthy…”

“Luke.” I stopped him, staring deep into his soul. “Are you telling me you brought me to the middle of nowhere England, to a haunted house, with no working means to contact the outside world?”

“It’s only for a few days…”

“LUKE, I WILL MuRdEr YOU! You will no longer be looking for a ghost because YOU WILL BE A GHOST!” My hands went flying and all he could do was protect his face.

“Come on, y/n. Don’t be so melodramatic,” he said before stepping out of your doorway. “Take it as an opportunity to get to know yourself. That’s why I told you to bring books.”

The realization that he had known the whole time we would be without technology was even more infuriating, so I started chunking pillows from the bed at him until he closed the door

I threw myself onto the bed and screamed into the comforter.

How was I going to stay sane without the internet for three days?

Sitting back up, I couldn't help but reassess my situation.

I'm stuck.

In a haunted house.

For three days.

A strange sensation washed over me, like the sudden chill of someone walking over your grave.

The house, I realized, was quiet. So quiet. Not another soul to be heard.

That was the first time I noticed that I had been hearing a steady movement the entire time I was alone and hadn't paid it any attention until now. When it stopped.

What had stopped moving?

I stayed still and listened for it to start again.

But it didn't.

Wondering why I had unnecessarily scared myself, I shook my head clear of the thought while opening up one of my bags.

My first bag was my safety net.

Junk food (because I’m shameless), sodas (because I’m shameless), and romance novels (because, you guessed it).

I opened the music on my phone and pulled out my thirstiest book.

Chapter One: How They Met

About twenty minutes into my story, the music was interrupted by a tap on the door. One solid knock. Of course I jumped, anyone would have. Then I heard some shuffling as an envelope flew under my door.  

I instantly sprang from my seat- curiosity always being both my best and worst quality- and tore the letter open.

~~We would like to cordially invite you to dinner in the Main Dining Hall this evening at 6pm. PS On the back of the door, you will find attire for the event.~~

Of course my first thought was what a gimmick to pull, but then I had to appreciate their creativity. The place wanted to bring out the Gothic Romance of  Allerdale Hall, and it certainly didn’t hold back. Opening the door to find a white silk dress, I saw the depth of that devotion.

I pulled the dress down when I heard Luke’s door open. “Holy shit!” he cussed. I went down the hall to find him awing at a suit hanging from his door. “Y/n!” he squealed through his teeth, “Holy shit!”

I laughed but really, I was excited.

A dressed up dinner in a haunted mansion. Through all the cliche, through all the irritants, I thought maybe this could turn out to be a fun get away.

After all...

What was the harm in playing along?

Part 2 is up!

The role of Luke will be played by Evan Peters:

Like my garbage? Read more of it! Master List

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[randomstoriesofabunny]

Summoning: Chapter 6

Summary: Imagine casting a summoning spell to try to create a familiar for yourself, but you accidentally summon demon!Bucky.

This imagine is from @after-avenging-hours.

Words: 2611

A/N: Dunno I thought it would be the best and cutest way of making a binding magic contract. Don’t judge me :<

James was surprised when the key he kept in his pocket all the time opened the door of the small apartment he got almost a month ago. It was exactly as he remembered it. One room with no divisions between the kitchen, the living room and the bedroom.

He looked around, everything remained exactly where he last left it while dust accumulated during his absence; his empty plate and glass were still on the plastic table. He was about to have a midnight snack when suddenly a voice filled his head and felt the floor shake under him. The moment the light illuminated the witch’s basement, he knew somehow he was transported accidentally there. The lack of a surprise attack was also a huge giveaway.

Well, I’m not in Kansas anymore. He thought amused while he watched her mumbling and cursing under her breath while she was reading the pages of her grimoire.

A sigh escaped from his lips, shaking his head to focus on his current task, make sure this shitty place he managed to find was still safe. The protective spells he placed the first day were intact, but they weren’t near as powerful as the protective plant he helped her create from her home. He continued with his inspection, there were no traces of any magic or tracking spells. Good.

A sour smell reached his nose, he sniffed around to try and locate the origin. The fridge. The moment he opened it, a putrefactive smell reached him. He stumbled backwards, covering his nose with his hand; all the food he bought was rotten. He ran towards the windows and opened them all, to try and dissipate the stench.

“Fuck,” he groaned. Cleaning that would be a pain in the ass, he thought. He sighed and started to search for some trash bags and a broom to clean up the place. At this moment he missed the simple cleaning charms witches and wizards used to tidy their homes.

After having to awkwardly explain to the landlord why his apartment smelled like a rotten corpse and hand him the money for the rent – even if he wasn’t sure for how much time he would spend in the apartment- James collapsed on the ratty mattress in the corner. It was late. He rolled to face the old couch in his living room.

He took a quick shower and changed into something comfortable to sleep. Most of the decent clothes he had were still on Y/N’s place. The moment he walked out of her home, he realized that was a huge mistake, the protective snapdragon was excellent to hide his energy.

That agent didn’t realized he was there until he saw him. Stupid mistake on his behalf. It was safe and as far as he knew Y/N didn’t knew much about demons or the magic world in general, he was lucky. He rubbed the tattoos on his arm. If he wanted them gone, he needed help, even if he had to give up his freedom once more.

It’s been two weeks since the incident between Steve and James and he hasn’t returned yet. I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe he got captured by SHIELD even when Steve assured me that he would inform me if that happened. James’s words keep filling my mind.

What did he mean by that? Did wizards used him for his power before?

And the solution Steve offered also was messing with my head. As far as he explained to me the binding spell was like a contract. I only performed the first part by summoning the creature now I had to finish it by making a deal.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to. The magic involving the contract was absolute, even after Solomon created the spell to prevent familiars and magic creatures to be forced into bindings and had their power exploited for others. Unfortunately, binding a magical creature with a different method was an illegal practice realized by some magic users, but Steve assured me completing Solomon’s binding was for the best, in case he returned and I decided to take him in again. SHIELD couldn’t try something against me if I got discovered in association with a demon. Even if they wanted to charge me of something their law was very clear.

Now I just needed to think about a decent oath and stablish I won’t use demonic magic to set the world on fire. Loopholes were the best. Well, assuming James would actually come back and keep his promise of helping me with the attacker. Even if that wasn’t necessary anymore, Steve took my case and was already investigating; the magic shield I created with his help kept me safe. Maybe for the seal he still had on his arm, I was still willing to help him, even if I had to be more careful.

We didn’t mention it to Steve. When I was explaining Steve the situation about why James was living in my home, I noticed the way his shoulders tensed and how he released part of that tension when I hid that information from Steve.

He’s going to be mad when he realizes I kept that from him, I thought worriedly.

“Hey,” a soft voice said behind me. A hand was placed on my shoulder, pulling me away from my thoughts.

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“You tell me, you’ve been stirring the potion for 15 min and missed the window to add the next ingredient,” Wanda said and pointed to the intense green concoction. It was supposed to be of a light yellow but without the next ingredient the color changed making it useless. I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

“Great,” I mumbled bitterly.

A red mist covered the pot and the liquid disappeared.

“Sorry. I’ll start again.” I said and started to gather all the materials, but she snatched the jar with sunflower seeds and put it out of my reach.

“You’ve been distracted lately, something happened?” Wanda asked concerned.

“Can we talk about it later,” I whispered and looked around. The shop was busy. Pietro was taking care of the cupcakes, while Peter and Gwen were busy preparing the coffee. We had a lot of customers every day, with the different themed cupcakes we sold to normal people and different magic users among some magic creatures.

She narrowed her eyes and nodded. She wasn’t going to let it go, that woman had a way around people, it was almost as she could read your mind.

“People are like open books to me, I just need a glimpse and I can tell what bothers them,” that’s what she always says when someone asked her. And with the help of her tarot cards she could point you towards the right path.

I stretched my hands towards the ceiling. Stressing about James wasn’t going to be good. In the meantime, I needed to focus on this potion for the fortune cupcakes.

As soon as Peter and Gwen left and Wanda practically kicked her brother out, claiming she’ll be home soon, she turned towards me.

“Now spill,” Wanda exclaimed with a grin plastered on her face.

I walked towards the kitchen and started to prepare her favorite relaxing tea. She is going to need it, I thought and prayed for it to go well. She sat on one of the tables next to the window, I checked the CLOSED sign was in its place one more time before I sat in front of her and started to explain everything to her. Or at least the same version I gave Steve.

She looked at me stunned. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but not a word came from her. After she drank half of her tea she shook her head and sighed.

“Oh God! And where is he?”

“He hasn’t returned,” I said with a shrug.

“And do you want him to come back?”

I paused and looked her.

“I don’t know Wands. I don’t know”

“Demons are dangerous,” she added and placed her hand on top of mine. “I really hope you know what you’re doing”

“Huh. I thought you’ll tell me something different. Like use a repellent talisman or move to another city” I said teasingly.

Wanda laughed and stood up to take the mugs back to the kitchen. “I bet Steve told you something like that.”

“He gave me his “This is so wrong” speech”

We giggled and left the store. Wanda promised to read her cards and tell me what kind of path I was in and maybe if she could give me some advice. I thanked her and wished her a good night.

The walk towards home was quiet, a bag with takeout in my hand since I didn’t feel like cooking tonight. It took me three days to stop buying food enough for two persons and to prepare extra food for breakfast. The moment I returned and saw the cold food in the same place I left it in the morning was sad. I was so used to have him there. Falling into a routine had been so easy.

The moment I collided with something hard startled me. Oh god! I just walked into the door, I thought annoyed and embarrassed. But instead of the front door, I saw icy blue eyes. James’s hands holding my shoulders to steady my frame.

We stared at each other for a moment until James stepped back to put some distance between us and cleared his throat.

“I left my stuff here,” he said and my heart sank.

“Oh”

“Can I come in?” he mumbled without looking into my eyes.

“Of course you can,” I managed to say. I didn’t know why I felt so disappointed by the fact he came back for his things, it was the most logic reason for him to come back.

“I also bought food,” he added and placed a plastic bag on the counter next to mine.

While I placed the food in plates he busied himself preparing something to drink. We sat in silence. From time to time my gaze traveled towards him, he seemed to be fine or at least without apparent injuries.

“Your room is like you left it,” I said, trying to fill the silence. “Well, I came in to clean, but I didn’t touch anything or opened the drawers.”

James mumbled a thank you without lifting his gaze from his plate. I bit my lip not sure if talking about the last time would be good, maybe it was the binding or Steve.

“I decided to agree to the binding”

“We don’t have to do the binding”

We spoke at the same time and stared at each other. I giggled and he huffed out a laugh.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” I added. “It’s just Steve’s idea. Besides, I don’t think SHIELD would notice if you live here.”

“I know, but I still want to do the binding,” He said. “You’re helping me with the seal, you can’t do that if you get arrested. Besides, I haven’t helped you to find the asshole that’s been cursing you.”

“Oh! You don’t have to worry about it. Steve’s investigating it.”

He nodded and we finished our dinner more relaxed, talking about what we did during the past two weeks and I updated him on the information I gathered about another two symbols and that maybe I could deactivate the first word. He looked at me stunned.

“Then how do we do it?” James asked while I was doing the dishes.

I explained everything Steve told me about the spell. We needed to make the vow, including everything we were willing to do, while standing in the middle of Solomon’s seal. I was glad Steve told me he would make the paint, just in case James returned.

“What is he doing here?” James asked irritated. I gave a shrug, Steve wanted to know when James appeared again and he wasn’t going to leave until I swear it. I called him last night and practically ordered me to wait until he could be present and make sure nothing bad happened.

“I’m here to supervise the ritual” Steve could be such a pain in the ass sometimes.

“Why you don’t trust my magic abilities?”

“Because you summoned him”

“And I helped her with her problem before,” said James with a smirk.

“By making a previous bad situation worse,” said Steve drily.

I groaned and threatened them both to kick them out if they didn’t behave.

They nodded but there were still some tension between them.

We decided to do the ritual in the basement. Steve started to trace the lines on the floor while James wrote down his oath. I was trying to think about what do I wanted to do, how much I was willing to give to him and I couldn’t stop wondering what James was willing to give. After all, it was a contract.

“Okay the seal is ready,” Steve said and wiped his hands in his jeans. “Let me see your vows.”

I handed him my paper and he read it. “You could ask for more, you know?”

“I know, but that’s all I need.”

James tossed his paper on the table in front of Steve. He read it and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You’re giving more than I thought you’ll be willing to do.”

“I’m sorry if I don’t fit your mold of demons.”

“Step into the circle. So we can begin.”

Steve started to recite the spell once we were in place. I took a deep breath to soothe my nerves, I knew what I had to do but doubt filled my heart. This was important, screwing it wasn’t an option.

The moment the lines of the seal started to shine, we raised our right hand and linked our pinkies.

“Uhm… With this oath I offer you my magic, to use it to help you and protect you. Because now we are partners, your troubles are mine and I’ll never force you or take advantage of your power to hurt others. This is my promise to you.” I finished my oath and studied James’s face. He looked stunned by my words, maybe thinking the same as Steve. Even if this ritual was the safest it still gave the upper hand to the summoner.

“With this oath I offer you myself.” A silent gasp escaped from my throat. I did not expect that. “My natural abilities, instincts and knowledge. To protect you and guide you without taking advantage of your power, until you decide my service is no longer required. This is my promise to you.”

Steve’s voice faded in the background. We were looking at each other, trying to decipher the motives behind our words. I looked down to the paint, the lines of light started to change into words, to the oath we said. They floated around us for a moment and changed to an intense red. They morphed again, forming a single line of red light and surrounded our pinkies. We separated our fingers and I could see the red string that would unite us until I decided to break our pact.

Chapter 5 - Masterlist - Chapter 7

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