#apparently it's mo's birthday

[virtchandmoir]

Tessa's Instagram Story (March 9th)

#tessa #morgan rielly #off ice #candid life #toronto maple leafs #social media #apparently it's mo's birthday #mini-fan

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎

✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚡 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ✦ 𝙰𝙾𝟹 ✦

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟸.𝟻𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚐𝚢𝚗𝚢, 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚜

A/N: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍.

It had only been a year.

A year since you had arrived in the upbeat city that was New Orleans. A year since you had officially married your arranged betrothed. The one your family sold you to. And within that year, you were supposed to fall in love and start a new chapter of your life.

But life had other plans for you.

You used to dream of meeting your one true love. How they’d court you, dance with you, sing to you, and kiss you all whilst whispering sweet words of desire and devotion to you. The fantasies of meeting someone who would make you the happiest woman to ever exist was what kept you so euphoric throughout your childhood. You had always hoped that when you finally met that special person, it would be love at first sight. That they would whisk you away into their arms, all whilst living a happy and domestic life with them. And that it would be true love.

But those dreams only shattered into millions of fragmented pieces on the date of your 21st birthday. The day your family sat you down with an unfamiliar man who seemed to be a decade older than you at least. His hair, dark and slicked back, and sharp dulled eyes that were filled with malicious intent. He looked like a man who owned an enormous amount of money, it showed from the way he dressed to the way he presented himself.

Your mother, you remember, called your name as you eyed the guest sitting in the parlour before gesturing towards him. “This gentleman here is Vincent. We have arranged that he be your husband by next summer, why don’t you sit down and get to know him?” Despite the vacant expression on your face that implied to anyone on the outside that this news didn’t affect you, inside you were seething and thoroughly disturbed with this abrupt news.

It was apparent rather quickly that this man had bought you. Your family had sold you like cattle. Vincent was a man who couldn’t seem to keep his blabbering mouth shut. He made it a point to make you aware of the fact that he had spent a lot of money for your hand in marriage. How could your family do that to you? Sell you off like a sheep to the slaughter. Especially to a man who looked rugged; like he held no genuine kindness inside himself. 

It killed you inside. Knowing that for the rest of your days, you would have to love a man who despite put a lot into his appearance, and had a commonly attractive face, was a man who you found truly revolting and ugly. He was not easy on the eyes to you and you dreaded the thought of having to touch him, let alone having to faunicate with him. Yet you accepted it. More so, you learned to accept it. You had to, only to make this process easier on your psyche. There was a time you thought you could trick yourself into loving him. It wasn’t what you dreamt of, but maybe you could grow to love Vincent with time. Maybe there was more to him than how he presented himself when you first met him. Maybe he was a sweetheart under all that malicious aura he projected and those harsh words he spoke.

But oh how you were so wrong to even attempt to trick yourself into believing he could be kind; it would’ve been easier on your mental state to not allow silly little maybes get your hopes up.

You could never entirely recall the time that your family forced you into courting Vincent. Every memory you had of that phase was a blur. It was easy to recognise that it was due to the constant dissociation you enacted on yourself whilst interacting with your now-husband. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t force yourself to love him. Let alone like him. And only hate began to dictate your feelings towards him when you began to uncover that he was quite a misogynistic man. 

His views disgusted you.

“A woman shouldn’t be able to vote; it is a ridiculous concept. Your species will ruin the very foundation of this country with this power in time, just watch.” You recall him saying to you over a formal dinner at an extremely expensive restaurant. It was one of the first outings between the two of you, and you swore it hadn’t even been 10 minutes before he started baffling about his disgusting views towards women.

You learnt at that same dinner date that he expected you to be a closed off housewife that would essentially be his baby incubator. “Only the most beautiful woman alive may produce my offspring, doll. You should be thankful that you rival the beauty of a goddess, else I would have never bought you.” It was something he would remind you constantly. It was your looks that made him fascinated with you in the first place, not who you were, and it made you feel sick. Even when he attempted to say sweet things, they were laced with revolting words that brought you back down farther than they were supposed to lift you.

Blinking as your vision focused on the ceiling above you, you gripped the blankets on the bed, struggling to sit yourself up in an attempt to rid yourself from the thoughts of your times with your now-husband. Your body felt bruised. Probably because it was bruised. Bruised and beaten. They were constant reminders of what your husband had done to your body not only during your time with him, but moments ago too. Dried tear stains only wettened again as you allowed yourself to come out of the realm of dissociation. You hated how much of a monster your family had sold you to. How many more years would you have to live like this?

This was only year one.

You let your shaken legs hold your body up as you slowly stumbled into the bathroom. Panting as you leaned against the sink, you looked in the mirror as you assessed that yet again, Vincent hadn’t left even a scratch on your face. It was the only place he refused to vandalise. You’d often wonder if it was because he didn’t want to harm the beauty you had, or if he just didn’t want outsiders to catch on to what he did to you behind closed doors.

Probably both.

A distressed groan left your lips as the pain in your lower abdomen spiked up without warning, tears dripped onto the backs of your palms as you attempted to ease the pain. You didn’t want to look; you refused to look. You didn’t want to see the damage Vincent had inflicted upon your lower body, but you had no choice. You had to assess the damage.

Looking down slowly, a sharp sob left your lips as you recognised the red liquid dripping down from your core and onto your thighs as blood. Your eyes shut tight as your knuckles turned white from clenching the sink, allowing an ugly silent sob to seep from your gritted teeth. It made sense as to why your intimate area hurt so much now. Panic consumed you. What had he done to make you bleed? Had he torn something inside? What should you do? Did you need to visit a doctor?

Your whole body stiffened as you heard the floorboards creak behind you, pulling you from your thoughts of panic. “If you’d stop screaming ‘no’ whilst I try to bed you, and at least tried to enjoy it, I wouldn’t have to be so brute with you, doll.” You dared not to look towards the doorway as his shadow encased your smaller frame. Why was he here? You were certain he had left the house once he had finished forcing you into acts you didn’t want to partake in.

You were stupid to think you were temporarily relieved from him.

As you heard him scoff from your lack of response, you flinched. “You are overreacting my dear doll, you will be fine.” He referred to your bleeding area. Slowly, he approached you, the sounds of his gatsby shoes thudding toward you frightened you, haunted you, even. “Now,” His polished shoes stopped in front of you. “Get up.”

His hands swiftly gripped your upper arms with a roughness you knew too well; dragging you back into the bedroom despite your panicked cries and pleads of mercy. Throwing you onto the bed you only just managed to get up from, you sobbed silently, attempting to hide your body away from him. His moves were always unpredictable when he was in this mood; always ranging between sexual abuse or a beating. You had to decide which one was the easiest to endure.

And sex, you learnt, was the only thing you could use to stop his bad moods. Even if you never wanted it.

Even if it made you feel like filth.

His face lowered into yours. “You’re going to go to the butchers today to get some prime venison, and make what those dirty peasants eat; Jambalaya.” He began to ramble as he grabbed your wrists and pinned you further into the bed. “I don’t care if you’ve never made it, I don’t care if you don’t know what it is, you better make it, and you better make it good.” He spat at you, causing your head to tilt away from him in disgust and fear. “You better look your best too. Maybe that red dress you have, the one that shows off your fat fucking tits.” His fingers gripped your right mound tightly, nails piercing into your skin from the pressure. 

You recoiled with abhorrence, sucking air through your teeth as you attempted to ignore the pain. Focusing on his voice and not the situation you were in, you made a mental note to remember all of his words; there would be consequences if not. And oh did he have a way with words. Always seeming to speak the most despicable things. A brute was what he was, one who always reduced you to your body with every sentence he spoke. He always knew what to say to make you feel worthless, to make you feel like what he nicknamed you: a doll.

Vincent moved his hand from your breast to your face as he forced you to look at him. You struggled as you attempted to pull away from him before he shoved his vile tongue into your mouth. Your wrists struggled against his as you attempted to tug away from him, to halt the assault on your body and mouth. Was his breath always this bad? You cringed, attempting to prevent the sensation of bile threatening to leave your stomach as he continued to defile your mouth with his.

If only you had the courage to bite his nauseating tongue off.

Fortunately for you, he pulled away; putting you out of a bit of the misery he was currently inflicting upon you before he opened his mouth again. “Some big cheese prick of a radio host is coming over tonight,” He spat, his saliva hitting you in the face as he continued to yap his lips. “And I need to make a good impression and if you fuck it up,” His grip around your face tightened, forcing your lips to pucker up. “Well… I think you know, don’t you, doll?” He quickly pecked your lips before pushing you into the bed further as he got off of you. Stiff as a board, your eyes followed him in fear as he stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching his sinister smile that was directed towards you before he finally exited the room. 

You didn’t make a sound, you didn’t dare to. Your body seemingly paralysed as you tried to stabilise yourself. You began to heave, letting little tears silently spill from your already reddened eyes. You just wanted this torture to end, the pain in your heart to cease to exist. You just wanted to be free.

Despite your current meltdown, you smiled. A smile so tight that it stretched to the furthest corners of your face as fantasies of your husband's death began to intrude into your mind. Maybe he would have a heart attack on the way out of the house, or perhaps run over by something. 

Maybe you could do it yourself.

Or maybe you’d get lucky and that serial killer you had heard about would end his life for you. 

Before you could imagine more ways that your husband could perish, your mind kept drifting onto something else; the guest that was to appear in your home later. Yet every time you attempted to think back to your pleasant thoughts of finally being rid of your husband, your mind kept wandering back to the words he just spoke to you.

A radio host huh?

It wasn’t often that Vincent allowed visitors over; in fact, he only allowed visitors over when he was trying to smitten them into furthering his own business into greater success. It was confusing though. Trying to work your head around why Vincent would need an advertisement for his business. He was well off, you lived in the Garden District in New Orleans after all. Was there something he wasn’t telling you? Was his business failing?

You scoffed. Like he’d ever tell you.

Despite the events that just occurred, you focused on this mystery guest that was to enter your home later. Would it be a man or a woman? Oh you hoped it was a woman; it had been a whole year since you last truly interacted with a woman. Maybe you could be friends. It’d be great to finally form a friendship-

Startled, you flinched in fear as you heard the front door slam shut, indicating that your bastard of a husband had finally left the house. You frowned as you let reality overcome you. Vincent would never allow you to befriend someone, he was a greedy man, with money and with you. The tears that drenched your cheeks couldn’t be stopped. You couldn’t help but etch your fingers into your hair, pulling as you tried to compose yourself.

You turned around, only to shove your face into a pillow as the screams of pain and sorrow howled from your lips as you reminded yourself that you’d probably be forced to be with that revolting man for the rest of your life. That you would never be allowed to enjoy the company of another person. To form relationships with others.

It had only been a year since you moved here. 

How were you supposed to deal with this for the rest of your life?

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

#alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #smut #hazbin alastor #hurthermorefics

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! Hope its great! The Untamed please? Its one of my favorite fandoms you've gotten me into 🥰

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Mo Xuanyu is married to the Second Jade of Lan.

Song Lan had known she’d married into the Lan – it was obvious – but he’d thought it was some not so bright cultivator that had been bewitched by her pretty face, or possibly literally bewitched, which he’d already decided wasn’t any of his damn business. If some stupid Lan wants a terrifying and amoral demonic cultivator for a wife, then good luck to them. Except they obviously don’t know she’s a demonic cultivator, considering their clan’s history with the original. But again, not his business, not his problem. His first priority is Xiao Xingchen and if Mo Xuanyu is going help him, then he really doesn’t care about who she’s terrorizing in her spare time.

Except it appears he’d underestimated her.

Because she’s apparently Jin Xuanyu now, legitimized and married off to the second most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world, superseded only by his brother who’s been unofficially off the market for over a decade.

Hanguang Jun had lived as a widower and Song Lan had been convinced he was going to die as one. Uncharitably, he wonders if maybe Lan Wangji just has a type, then feels bad about it in the next moment.

She orders Sect Leader Lan around and he lets her. She glares Hanguang Jun down.

To say absolutely nothing of the way she’d taken down Xue Yang. And then given him that dubious honor of taking credit for the kill, likely because she didn’t want to try and explain to her family how she’d managed it.

She had been clever and dangerous as a teenager. She’s managed to vault herself from disgraced bastard daughter to wife of the heir to the Lan and the legal mother to the third in line who will likely be the one actually succeeding Lan Xichen.

Jin Xuan – Xuanyu is a friend. She has very firmly shown herself to be a friend, helping him and protecting Xiao Xingchen and showing what certainly looks like genuine kindness to the girl who’d helped them, A-Qing.

Possibly she’s done all this to ensure their silence over what she used to be, what she is, but if so then it’s been successful. Betrayal would be a poor repayment for everything she’s done. The Lan hadn’t helped him or Xiao Xingchen. She had. The Lan can take care of themselves and if they can’t withstand the machinations of one woman, they deserve what they get.

Xiao Xingchen hasn’t said much, and Song Lan owes him so many apologies, but not here in front of everyone. He at least agrees to fly with him without much fuss. It will be difficult for him to fly with all three of them for any significant distance, but A-Qing asks Xuanyu to fly with her and she agrees with a smile.

Lan Sizhui doesn’t seem particularly thrilled, but he apparently is far too respectful of his step mother to disagree with her.

They’re flying back the inn when Xiao Xingchen presses himself back against his chest and tilts his head back to say, “Song Lan.”

It’s been so long since he’s heard Xiao Xingchen say his name. He has to swallow before he says, “Yes?”

“That’s,” he starts, then stops. “Who was that?”

“Who?” he asks. “We’re traveling with the Lans.”

“The woman,” he says.

His lips tug down into a frown but he tries not to panic. He’s been under charms to confuse and dull his senses for months. “That was Mo Xuanyu.”

If he’s already confused, getting into her legitimization probably won’t help anything.

Xiao Xingchen is silent for a few more moment. Then he asks, “Are you sure?”

What on earth. “Who else would she be?”

“She moves like – and sounds – but. It can’t. She’s – different,” he says.

As wonderful as it is to hear him speaking, Song Lan wishes he were saying less worrying things. “It’s been a long time since we saw her last. She’s grown up and married. Of course she’s different.” He squeezes his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s waist, hoping it’s not too presumptuous when they haven’t discussed anything yet. “It’s okay, after everything that’s happened this all must feel very sudden. Xuanyu is the one that found you. We can trust her.”

He thinks they can trust her. They can trust her more than any other sect cultivator, which granted isn’t saying much.

Xiao Xingchen relaxes against him. “Alright. If you say so.”

#song lan has been very busy looking for xxc and so missed all the gossip around the arranged marriage #and he only has his knowledge of the real mxy to base all his conclusions on #asks #sailor-lady #untamed #prompt answers #prompts are closed

[neukdaez]

say my name

rating: explicit

member: euijoo

notes: song-inspired fic, fem!reader, brother's friend, acquaintances to lovers, kitchen sex, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, maki is your younger brother, appearance by nicholas

a/n: my birthday fic for euijoo! i know his birthday's done both in korea and in where i live lol but it's still the 7th somewhere!!!! the song i incorporated into this is deny's say my name, which is a taglish song but i included translations for the lyrics i used here. this is my first full one shot on this account too aaaa so please enjoy!

there's something inherently exciting about doing things you shouldn't do, in meeting people who are bad for you, in sneaking around behind shadows, ducking from sight as the adrenaline pumps through your veins.

your heartbeat is loud, but your footsteps are quiet.

hindi mo ba napapansin, kung ga'no kainit ang hangin? (don't you notice how the air's turned hot?)

we've all had those moments in our lives when we stare off into space, teetering on the edge of doing something incredibly reckless. a lot of us have these moments more than once. sometimes more than once a day. you've had your fair share of internal battles about a risky decision, but this is the first time you can actually feel the suffocation creeping up on you as you rattle off your internal monologue.

but first, you need to find maki and wring his neck.

your brother has a friend. nicholas. and nicholas, in turn, has another friend.

euijoo.

and maki being the outgoing person he is, quickly became euijoo's friend, too. nevermind that nicholas and euijoo are both four years older than maki and are in their junior year of college while your little weasel of a brother is still in high school.

he met them in dance class, apparently. and they're thick as thieves.

so much so that they're in your living room right now, hogging the couch while they watch dance video after dance video on the tv.

this isn't a particularly new scene to witness. maki invites them over at least twice a week, and thanks to your parents' taste for the grander things in life, your living room has more than enough space for a bunch of young men to do their thing.

again, what business two twenty-somethings have in casually coming to a seventeen-year-old's house to hang out is beyond you. but you digress.

because at least maki has the sense to make friends with cute guys.

euijoo stands out to you, in particular. you're not sure why but there's definitely something about him. maybe it's his eyes, round and cute, like little cartoon saucers. or maybe it's his height. tall men are always a plus.

whatever it is, it's what's causing your inner turmoil, the more rational part of your brain fighting it out with the part of your brain that just makes you want to throw yourself at him.

wait, what?

you're at the top of the stairs, in the tiniest tank top you own, and while your lower half is safely covered in your pajama pants, the tight fit around your waist might raise some eyebrows (or catch eyes). the reasonable voice in your head tells you to cover up. you have visitors, for god's sake! but the small, mischievous whisper tells you to fuck it, flaunt it all to your brother's hot friends.

maybe you're overthinking it.

except, you aren't, because you're not blind and definitely not stupid.

nicholas did a double take the first time you met them, eyes scanning over you quickly. he's been tame since then, only greeting you curtly, but with a friendly enough smile nonetheless. then he turns back to his phone, typing away furiously. probably texting a girlfriend.

but euijoo's eyes linger. and while that may not mean anything now, you know that men are simple creatures. sauntering in front of him wearing what you're wearing now will definitely have him looking.

maybe you want him to look.

kalamnan ay unti-unting 'di maramdaman, natitirang konsensya, 'di na rin nadatnan (can't feel my insides, can't find what little conscience i have)

you climb down the stairs, your footsteps emitting soft thuds on the carpeted floor. your eyes stay true toward the direction of the kitchen, but a movement by the couch makes you shift your gaze.

you catch euijoo's eye briefly as he cranes his neck to look at you. you're still walking, albeit a little slower now. you fight the urge to smile when euijoo lets his line of sight fall to your chest.

"hey guys," you greet nonchalantly, breaking eye contact with euijoo. you glance at nicholas this time, sitting alone on the single-seater. he smiles warmly at you, giving a small wave.

maki is too engrossed in his phone to witness anything that's happening around him, particularly with his doe-eyed friend beside him on the couch.

"can you get me a soda from the fridge?" maki calls out to you as you enter the kitchen. you roll your eyes. ugh, little brothers.

you throw the refrigerator door open, snatching the four-pack of sodas. you pull one out for yourself, kicking the fridge shut before heading back out to the living room.

you press your soda to your neck, exhaling at the sensation against your warm skin. you extend your hand between maki and euijoo from behind the couch, handing them the rest of the sodas.

euijoo takes them from you, hand brushing against yours, and god does it feel like a predictable spicy romcom moment.

"thanks," euijoo says in his sweet honey voice. his lips turn up in the smallest of smiles.

"you're welcome," you reply, keeping your expression mostly neutral, raising your eyebrows in acknowledgement.

you turn away, making your way back to the stairs. you start your ascent and just before you disappear into the second floor, you give one final peek over the banister.

euijoo smiles once more as your eyes meet.

---

you still want to wring maki's neck. but maybe also reward him with a fat wad of cash.

it's late into the night and you're sure euijoo and nicholas have left. you heard the front door slam open and shut about an hour ago and you're certain you heard maki enter his room a little after that. so you practically frolicked down into the kitchen, in dire need of a midnight snack. your parents are conveniently off at an overnight business function so no one would give you shit for banging around with the pots and pans.

you're in the process of rummaging through the ramyeon drawer, scrutinizing the different flavors, when you hear a noise behind you. your heart seizes up in your chest as you spin around, bracing yourself against the counter, eyes wide in shock.

"euijoo?!"

the young man stands in the kitchen doorway, clad in what you can only identify as sleepwear of his own. his face mirrors yours, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"sorry, just wanted to get some water," euijoo quickly apologizes, holding his hands out defensively.

you exhale, stance relaxing as you watch him shuffle uncertainly towards the other side of the kitchen. the only thing that stands between the two of you is the kitchen island.

"maki didn't tell me you guys were sleeping over," you point out, ramyeon long forgotten behind you.

"then again, he never tells me anything," you add. euijoo chuckles.

he's retrieved a glass from a cupboard and before you can think further ahead, you reach over to the fridge beside you, ducking to get the pitcher from within.

it's now that you realize that you're practically sticking your ass out for euijoo to ogle at. you nearly giggle at the thought.

you straighten up, turning to place the water on the island. euijoo is leaning over the marble, eyeing you. you're not quite sure how his expression reads, but you smile politely, sliding the pitcher towards him.

"where's maki, anyway?" you ask.

"with nicholas. nico brought his car and they, uh...," euijoo trails off, silencing himself as he pours the water into his glass.

you cock your head to the side. "did you just send my underage brother out to buy alcohol?"

euijoo purses his lips, not saying a word. he clears his throat, seemingly suppressing a smile.

you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. opening your eyes, you see euijoo is looking at you over the rim of his glass as he drinks. you stare back, crossing your arms.

"well, i had my suspicions," you declare. "i started around his age, too."

euijoo nods, setting his glass down. "i see where he gets it from."

you narrow your eyes and euijoo looks back at you innocently.

"why didn't you go along with them?" you question, leaning over the island casually. you're still wearing the tank top from earlier and euijoo doesn't hide the fact that he's still looking.

to his credit, there seems to be the faintest blush on his cheeks. so, he's not completely shameless, at least.

"and leave you here alone? come on, i'm more of a gentleman than that," euijoo says, tone easy. he plants his hands on the island, mirroring you as he leans closer across from you.

i wanna do the things i never tried with ya', i wanna hear you say my name now, won't ya'

"that's very thoughtful of you," you supply appreciatively. euijoo smiles.

"the pleasure is mine, _______."

the sound of your name leaving euijoo's lips sends you back to the hypothetical edge, standing over a steep drop into shame.

are you really this kind of older sibling? flirting with your brother's friend, dressed in ridiculously thin clothing, practically laying yourself out on a big, wide, flat surface? you might as well spell it out for him at this point.

"when are they coming back?" you ask, resting your chin on your palm. you're properly bent over the island now. if euijoo had no idea a few minutes ago, he sure as hell knows what's up by now.

euijoo turns his back to you for a moment, placing the now empty glass in the sink. he looks down at you from where he's standing and glances away briefly as if thinking.

"in a bit," he begins, coming around the counter. your breath hitches as you follow him with your eyes, heart thumping as he stops behind you.

you turn, leaning back against the marble now as euijoo watches you. every blink, every time you shift your weight, every breath, it feels like he's taking it all in.

"it's a friday night, so the traffic might be hell out there," euijoo points out. "i'd say that's another twenty minutes or so. give or take."

baby, hindi na makahinga, i'm suffocating pero hindi masama (baby, can't breathe anymore, i'm suffocating, but it's not bad)

"what do you wanna do till then?" you press on, batting your eyes at the man in front of you. one side of his mouth turns up in a smirk.

he's cute enough that it looks almost endearing. but the sparkle in his eye points to something else.

"whatever takes twenty minutes or so to do," euijoo suggests with a raise of his brow. he steps closer and you're almost toe to toe.

i kinda like it, adrenalina'y tumatakbo, dibdib ay kumakabog, sa tubig kinakapos (i kinda like it, adrenaline's running, chest is pounding, running short on water)

you reach out but euijoo beats you to whatever you're trying to do. his hand circles your wrist as he moves even closer.

kalamnan ay unti-unting 'di maramdaman, natitirang konsensya, 'di na rin nadatnan (can't feel my insides, can't find what little conscience i have)

euijoo's other hand lays on your hip. he ducks his head so he's level with your face. you breathe in and euijoo grins.

isang utos mo lang, hindi na mahindian, bae (just one command and i can't say no to you, bae)

in your head, you're cursing how he's so stupidly hot and cute and charming at the same time that you'd have no problem doing whatever it is he wants you to.

"kiss me," euijoo dares, eyebrows rising for a second, as if in challenge.

it's embarrassing how loud you moan once euijoo's lips are on yours. your hands immediately come up to cup at his face and his own palms smooth around your waist, up your back, before descending again to ultimately rest on your ass.

euijoo is a damn good kisser and you can barely keep up with every slide of his tongue on yours and every pass of his lips over your parted ones.

euijoo's hands move to your shoulders, pointer fingers hooking through the thin straps of your top, pulling them down. you gasp against euijoo's mouth, your chest exposed in its near entirety.

you pull back, watching with labored breaths as euijoo tugs the front of your shirt down, letting one of your tits hang out. you bite your lip as he takes ahold of it, squeezing gently. his other hand maneuvers itself beneath the waistband of your pajamas, wriggling under your underwear, before finally finding purchase against the heat between your legs.

it's pathetic, really, how quickly you turn to putty under euijoo's touch. a man you've known for barely a few weeks, pulling at your every string, playing you like a fiddle.

"cute," euijoo murmurs, leaning in to plant a brief kiss on the side of your mouth.

euijoo draws small, tight circles on your clit and you squirm, knuckles white as you grasp onto the counter behind you. you tuck your chin against your chest, squeezing your eyes shut when you feel euijoo tease at your entrance.

euijoo's hold on your breast disappears and instead, he gently handles one side of your face, tilting your head up. you meet his eyes just as he plunges one finger into you.

your eyes flutter shut and euijoo kisses you again, hot and messy and slick with both of your spit. he adds another finger and you whine, hips stuttering against his hand. your knees feel weak and you're convinced they're ready to give out.

euijoo pumps in and out of your slowly, letting your wetness coat his fingers. he curls his digits just as he pushes up and you clench down, a pleasurable heat spreading across your body.

"fuck, euijoo," you whisper. he pulls back slightly, observing your expressions.

"tell me when you're close," euijoo instructs. his voice has dropped, making you shiver.

euijoo picks up his speed, curling his fingers periodically, movements almost calculated like he's done this a million times before. the thought of euijoo being experienced, mastering the ins and outs of this, makes your whole body prickle with excitement.

"c-close," you manage to whimper out.

euijoo maintains his speed but presses harder and harder each time against your spongy walls. you clamp a hand over your mouth as you feel your belly tighten.

"euijoo, i'm gonna—oh my god!"

your orgasm wipes all coherent thoughts from your head, knocking the air out of you in one fell swoop. euijoo wraps an arm around your torso, keeping you upright as you ride your high out on his fingers. he presses his lips to your temple as you start to calm down, chest rising and falling rapidly.

euijoo pulls his hand from your pajamas, holding your gaze as he licks his fingers clean of you. your face burns but you can't look away, mesmerized by the way his lips and tongue move.

don't gotta get emotions if it's okay with ya', but I might fuck around and catch feelings for ya'

euijoo smiles, eyes raking over your disheveled form.

"we better hurry," euijoo speaks up, dipping down to kiss you. you taste yourself faintly on his mouth,

you tug your pajamas and underwear down, letting them fall to the floor. you kick them off to the side, pulling back as euijoo does the same. your eyes travel down to see his cock standing red and angry against his stomach.

"like what you see?" euijoo asks playfully, a hand coming down to stroke at his shaft a few times.

you bite down on your lip, trying to suppress a grin. euijoo chuckles, large hands taking hold of your hips. he maneuvers you to face away from him, your front digging into the marble of the kitchen counter.

you lean forward, letting your front squish against the surface, back arched perfectly. you hear euijoo whistle lowly, a hand smoothing down your back.

"looking good, _______," euijoo compliments, knees knocking against your thighs, signaling you to part them. you adjust your stance, exposing more of yourself to euijoo.

"that's it," euijoo mutters and you feel something poke against your waiting hole.

you let out a mix of a sigh of relief and a choked-up sob as you feel euijoo push in. you crane your neck to see what euijoo's doing and his eyebrows are knit together, concentration on his features as he fills you all the way in.

you see his eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out, hands automatically gripping at your waist, keeping you steady.

euijoo starts moving and your head drops onto the counter. the stretch feels euphoric, euijoo's cock dragging deliciously against your walls.

"euijoo," you whine. his hips snap up repeatedly, pace starting to pick up as he loses himself in your cunt.

"so good," euijoo whispers. "you feel amazing, _______."

you preen at his words, burying your face in your folded arms. the angle lets him hit that spot deep within you perfectly and you already feel the beginnings of your second orgasm creeping up.

you gasp softly as you feel fingers tangling themselves in your hair and you cry out fully when you feel euijoo tug your head back by your locks.

"fuck, come here, angel," euijoo implores, an arm around your midsection as he pulls you against him.

euijoo's holding you up all by himself and you let him, too weakened by the way he's fucking into you.

euijoo's movements quicken, thrusts turning shallow as he ruts against you. you wonder for a moment if it's possible to go mad over cock. the thought is a ridiculous one, but with the way euijoo fucks you, harsh yet contained, with all the finesse and enthusiasm combined, you start to think it might not be too much of a stretch.

euijoo presses his mouth behind your ear, sucking lightly and you shiver, his breath tickling your sensitive skin.

"where?" euijoo asks, voice strained. it's obvious he's holding his release back.

it takes you a second to register his question and euijoo grunts softly, movements now erratic.

"where do you want it, angel?" euijoo repeats.

"inside," you say, walls clenching down as you feel your own orgasm approach. "please, inside."

it doesn't take long for euijoo's hips to stutter, fucking into you at a brutal pace for a few seconds before he stills, spilling himself deep in you. the feeling of him finishing inside sends you over the edge in turn, euijoo's name falling loudly from your mouth.

euijoo lets go of you and you slump over the counter, sweaty and spent. he slowly pulls out and you wince, pushing yourself upright with shaky arms.

"put this on, quick," euijoo reminds, handing you your underwear and bottoms. "before you, uh, make a mess on your kitchen floor."

you blush violently at his words, hurriedly pulling your clothes back on. euijoo does the same, wordlessly putting on his pajama pants.

you make eye contact and a second goes by without either of you saying a word. a moment later, the two of you burst out in silent giggles.

"i'd say that was about twenty minutes," euijoo comments, rubbing the back of his neck, a sudden shyness overcoming his demeanor.

before you can get a word out, you hear the front door slam open, hushed voices carrying through the house to the kitchen.

"_______? are you awake?" maki asks.

you and euijoo exchange a look.

#&team smut #&team scenarios #&team imagines #euijoo smut #euijoo scenarios #euijoo imagines #w: euijoo

[christa-tomlinson-romance-author]

A Kiss for the Birthday Boy - A SoapGhost Drabble.

“Here’s to Soap. A year older, but not much wiser.”

Cheers and laughs followed the toast from a member of the 141’s support team. The soldiers with plastic cups in their hands raised them high before tossing back their shots of whisky. Happy to have survived another year while doing one of the most dangerous jobs on earth, Soap tossed his shot back along with everyone else.

The 141 and a few other soldiers had taken over the rec room to celebrate Soap’s birthday. Gaz had snuck in a bottle of Soap’s favorite Lagavulin to celebrate, Price had cigars to share, and Ghost brought a deck of cards for poker.

“He might be a year older, but he’s still the fucking baby of the group,” Gaz said as he affectionately scruffed Soap’s mohawk.

Used to Gaz holding their slight age difference over his head, Soap simply grinned and accepted the rough affection without complaint.  

“Alright, boys. It’s almost lights out. Time to wrap it up.”

Groans followed Price’s announcement but soldiers immediately started to get up from their chairs or their spots lounging on one of the beat up old couches.

“We’ll handle the cleaning,” Price said. “Ghost, make sure he gets back to his room okay.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Soap protested.

But apparently Ghost agreed with their captain. He tugged Soap up from his chair.

“Come on, sergeant. Let’s go.”

Soap followed Ghost from the rec room. He was mostly steady on his feet as they made their way to the hall that housed their quarters. The walk was short – both of them quiet – Ghost a dark, familiar presence at Soap’s side. They stopped when they reached Soap’s room.

“Good night,” Ghost said before he moved to continue on to his own room.

“Wait.” Soap reached out and caught Ghost’s wrist. It was a testament to the allowances Ghost had granted him in their friendship that he didn’t immediately pull away from the light hold. “I want a birthday gift,” Soap said.

“Already got you a gift, Johnny.”

“You did and it’s lovely. But I want something more personal.”

Ghost turned back, stepping in close to face Soap.

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

Soap leaned back against the door, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked up at his lieutenant. “A kiss. From you.”

Ghost watched him silently for a long moment before he asked him a question.

“How drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough to have the courage to ask for what I’ve been wanting. Not so drunk that I won’t remember in the morning if I get it.”

“Hmmm.”

Ghost moved in even closer, bracing a forearm on the door above Soap’s head. Soap swallowed hard at the way he was caged in by Ghost’s looming bulk. He watched with his heart pounding as his lieutenant rolled up his balaclava to the bridge of his nose. Was Ghost actually going to grant his birthday wish? His lips were there, inches from his own. But Ghost didn’t move to kiss him.

“Well?” Soap asked somewhat impatiently. He wanted his kiss.

“Open the door, Johnny. I’m not kissing you out here for the entire base to see.”

Ecstatic that it was actually happening, Soap dug in his pocket for his security key. Refusing to take his eyes off Ghost in fear that if he did the man might change his mind and disappear, he fumbled behind him to slap the key card over the sensor and unlock the door. The door swung open and he stumbled back into his bedroom.

Ghost followed, quietly closing the door behind him.

The room was dark, the only light that of the security lights outside coming in the small, single window. Soap stood in the middle of the room, waiting.

Ghost took the three steps to meet him, gloved hands coming up to cup his face. He lowered his head, pausing just before their lips met. Soap moved that final inch, pressing their lips together in their first kiss. It was soft, a hesitant, barely-there touch. They parted immediately after, shaky breaths escaping between them as they stared at each other. Then, Ghost kissed him again, this time without the hesitance of before.

Ghost brought their mouths together in a deep kiss that sent tingles down Soap’s spine. He easily took control, just as he did in the field, sucking at Soap’s bottom lip, nipping at it lightly with his teeth. Soap let him lead, his eyes drifting shut as he stood there in his tiny room, kissing his lieutenant.  And when Ghost teased the seam of Soap’s lips with the tip of his tongue, Soap immediately parted them to grant him entrance.

He moaned as Ghost licked into his mouth, his tongue sliding over his own in a slick caress. Ghost’s hands moved to grip his waist to bring them closer together and Soap raised up on his toes to loop his arms around Ghost’s neck. Their kiss turned hot and wet and it felt so right, so good, that Soap was desperate for more.

By the time Ghost pulled back, Soap’s heart was racing, and they both were breathing with sharp, rushed breaths. Soap slowly opened his eyes and met Ghost’s dark gaze. “I’ve wanted that for a long time,” he admitted with a husky laugh.

Ghost ran a thumb over his lips.

“So have I.”

Wanting another taste of the man he’d been craving for months, Soap lightly sucked the pad of that broad thumb into his mouth. He released him with a soft kiss, then spoke with his lips brushing against the damp digit. “Maybe I can have more of what I’ve been wanting?” he asked with what he hoped was an alluring look from beneath his lashes.

A soft smile tugged up one side of Ghost’s mouth and he let his hand fall away. “Greedy. You only asked for a kiss, MacTavish.”

Always shameless, Soap was even more so with several shots of whisky coursing through his blood. “Now I’m asking for more.”

Ghost shook his head.

“Not tonight.”

“Next time?” He couldn’t help but push, hoping that there would indeed be a next time.

“Yes. Next time.”

Relief that this wasn’t a one-time thing, and maybe the Lagavulin too, had Soap swaying on his feet. “Good,” he said.

Ghost gently chucked Soap under his chin.

“Get some sleep, birthday boy.”

Soap nodded, and after one final quick kiss, Ghost left.

Practically floating he was so happy, and definitely drunk, Soap struggled to get his boots off. Then he plopped face down on his bed fully clothed. A silly grin curled his mouth as he nestled into the pillow. He’d finally kissed Ghost and it was even better than he’d imagined. Soap drifted away into sleep, with thoughts of next time following him into his dreams.

#soapghost #ghostsoap #ghostsoap fanfic #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #writing

[hana-no-seiiki]

happy na😘 birthday mo pa🥰

happy na😆 birthday mo pa😝

happy na☺ birthday mo pa🤩

HAPPY BIRTHDAY🤪🤪

ilang taon ka na🤔 ilang taon ka na🤨

apparently 20 by the islam calendar a n d korean age.

and jus 18 rn

#yes i know this is a joke #but i learnt about this today and i must share #hns.txt💬 #hns.ask💌

[xenyart]

Asked a classmate of mine on who to draw and told me to do Giorno 🎉

Edit : APPARENTLY IT'S ALSO HIS BIRTHDAY I JUST NOTICED HAHAHA

HAPPY😊NGA‼️BIRTHDAY🎈 MO🥹PA🪅

HAPPY🥰NGA✨BIRTHDAY🥳MO😸PA💥

#jjba fanart #jjba art #giorno giovanna #jjba giorno #giorno giovanna fanart #jojos bizarre adventure #jojos bizzare adventure fanart

[septemberrie]

Rivusa Recs: FitzTragedy

I have to thank @fitztragedy for so much beauty and joy that has entered my life since March of 2021 when I peeked into the Rivusa tag on tumblr and found my fandom fam. Your birthday gift this year is a rec list of all my favorite of your works! 

Val and I often have different tastes in genres, but she’s taught me that the stakes don’t have to be literal life and death to be interesting or dramatic or discerning. Val’s stories excel in the quiet moments, the dialogue, the intimacies; it’s chasing after your lover in the pouring rain, it’s waking up next to someone with a stunning realization, it’s your friends having your back while also encouraging you out of your comfort zone (sound familiar? Because of Val I flew halfway around the world to meet up with friends that I met because of Rivusa, because of Val).

Love you, Val! Without further ado, here are my faves:

✨Smoking Hot (collab with @gossipqueen2000) Word Count: 6k Tags: Rivusa, side Skloom, firefighter AU, humor Summary: “AFD! Open the door!” “AFD?” “…Fire department!” “….STRIPPERS!” Rec: I think the summary captures this delightful romp quite well. Mo and Val managed to craft the story of a drunken bachelorette party WITHOUT turning all the fairies into annoying caricatures of themselves. The party’s aftermath features the Specialists as firefighters, Riven and Sky up to single guy shenanigans, led by an increasingly wearied Saul wearied by their antics. This story is an instant pick-me-up.

✨An Innocent Trust Exercise Word Count: 11k Tags: Rivusa, forced proximity, smut Summary: In order to teach the fairies and Specialists to trust and learn from each other, Farah and Saul create a school-wide exercise: fairy & Specialist partners will be literally tied up for a week. Rec: Written in the beginnings of the FTWS fandom, this fic cemented for me how much Val doesn’t let ideas go once they’re in her head. Expect fun banter, steamy smut, and worldbuilding crack treated seriously. Val takes a great premise and totally delivers. Fave exchange: 

“Can’t sleep with your face this close.” 

“Too distracting?”

“I just don’t wanna have nightmares.”

✨The Most Powerful Mind Fairy in Alfea Word Count: 5k (WIP) Tags: Rivusa, pre-breakup Samusa, mind fairy stuff, S2 missing scene Summary: In Season 2, Ep 4, Rosalind calls Musa “the most powerful mind fairy here.” Missing scenes that slot into canon to explain Rosalind’s opinion. Rec: This rec is a bit personal; S2 left me reeling with where a lot of characters ended up and I had a hard time feeling creative about it, but then Val swept in and dropped this fic shortly after the premiere. I love how dark Val took this one, not shying away from Rosalind using torture to weed out the students she wanted to groom. Read for a great way to fill in the gaps S2 left us with.

✨Tolerable Word Count: 9k Tags: Rivusa, kink meme prompt, arranged marriage, dubious consent (sorta) Summary:  In order to recruit the best specialists to fight in their army and protect the Queen, Solaria promises certain qualified candidates an arranged marriage to a powerful fairy that will increase their social status and income. Riven wants to prove to his father that he can make it on his own, regardless of whether the mind fairy he's paired with wants to marry him or not. All he has to do is get her pregnant to seal the deal. Rec: I’m actually a huge sucker for arranged marriage, and apparently I also have a thing for exploring sex: is it a tool for control? for whose control? or for intimacy? What even is intimacy? I love the exploration of what healthy sex is, with a dash of insane kinky worldbuilding.

✨Thin Walls (collab with @theperfectrose) Word Count: 37k Tags: Rivusa, Modern/Non-Magical AU, And They Were Roommates, Smut Summary: Musa is in desperate need of a roommate. Riven is available. Only problem is their apartment walls are very thin. Rec: Look, I have to include Val’s magnum opus. I love that in every universe, in every timeline, not only will Rivusa get together, but Val will be there writing about it--featuring snappy banter, unrequited pining (until it’s requited ofc) and falling first into bed and then in love. Not to mention the steamiest of all smuts when Iva joined the story in the later stages. Brava, ladies!

Honorable Mention

✨Tempting Fate her collab with meeee 🥰 I can’t praise Val enough for elevating this story not only with her storytelling, but also with her graphic design to make the text-based parts of this story so fun and engaging. I’m so proud of this story!

#happy birthday Val!!! #rivusa #ftws rivusa #fate the winx saga

[samcoesclub]

Get to know my OC

thanks so much 2 @silurisanguine for tagging me! i’m sure most of you guys have been tagged so anyone that sees this and wants to do it can consider themselves tagged by me

Fandom: Starfield

Role: Spacefarer

cw for mentions of aurora use (not by character)

Basics

Full Name: Indiana (Coe) - never had a last name prior to marrying Sam.

Nickname(s): Indy, not so affectionately called many other names by Spacers by virtue of all the bounties he’s cashed in on

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation and Titles: Bounty Hunter as soon as he acquired his first ship (and probably before that, when he was just operating on Neon, but it isn’t quite the same). Explorer and Occasional Bounty Hunter once he joins up with Constellation

Birthday and Age: He doesn’t know his birthday, and he’s never celebrated it. His mom was always too out of her mind to remember, if she ever knew in the first place, but he loved her anyways. He always just counted it as turning a new age with the new year.

He’s 29 when the events of the game start, 30 by the time he and Sam get married

Physical Description: 6’ 1”, not super muscular but definitely built. Tattoo across his face along with the burn scars from the fire that killed his mom

Clothing Style: Loose jackets and cyberpunk tops, but when working outside on his ship or lounging, tanktop and loose pants. Before he left Neon, he’d always donned more cyberpunk-esque gear (a la cyberware streetwear), but once he left the city and made it into space, more Space Rogue attire

Background

Neon Street Rat, Wanted, Spaced

Before he was a crate rat turned to the streets, he had a family—a mom that loved him even if she loved the Aurora just as much after his dad, her husband, got shot. The fire in the underbelly that spread to the sleepcrate he’d saved money from stealing and scrounging and begging to help his mother buy took her life and marred his face.

After the fire, people on the street told him it hurt to look at him—oftentimes with a sneer, so he covered his face for years, sleeping under awnings and tents in Ebbside and the underbelly. He tried working an honest job, but nowhere would hire a kid off the street, so the easiest thing was to sell his soul for credits. A local bounty hunter, taking out Neon targets? Certainly. A vigilante to a certain extent? Also possible. (He would tell himself that all of these people were bad. They all committed crimes. They all had crossed the wrong people. It would sometimes make him feel better. Most times it wouldn’t. But it was what he was good at, and after a while, he got used to killing or taking marks in).

Scrounging and saving credits from Neon jobs, he finally got enough for a ship, some better weapons, and supplies to get the hell out of Neon as soon as his local notoriety became almost too much. He couldn’t be a ghost where the light penetrates.

And after he got out of Neon, Spacers hated his guts. The Crimson Fleet hated his guts. They came to know his MO.

He’s been hunting through space for nearing 12 years when he hears about a job, someone posing as a miner, but they can’t be sure who. It’s a big payout. Maybe if he does this job, he can stop killing for a while—stop hunting. A pipedream. It’s all he’s ever been good at. He’s never tried much else.

His quarry becomes the luckiest person alive when he gets zapped by the artifact.

Combat and Skills

Preferred Fighting Style: Start the engagement from far out, push in when he’s picked off the outside combatants. His love for anything with a scope makes this best

Favorite weapon: Anything with a scope

Special skills: Ballistic weapons, piloting, reading to become competent at something quickly, and apparently very good at doing voices when he reads out loud—so much so that Cora makes him and Sam split reading duties

Relationships

Family: Parents are dead, and prior to Constellation, he drifted through space mostly alone. But he’s happy to say he considers Constellation his family.

Love interest: Sam Coe

Best friend: Andreja 🐍 they understand each other on a molecular level

art by jazz.medic on ig 💞🫶

#indy coe #oc #starfield #starfield oc #sam coe / spacefarer #coemancer

[evilvillainapologist]

Wait a minute... 

"The toffees were an old brand. After several years of not seeing it on the market, Fei Du had figured out that the factory had closed. He didn't know where Tao Ran could have gotten these from..." (Mo Du chapter 5 Julien IV, transl. E.Danglars) 

This is the first time we see Fei Du and Tao Ran interacting. Tao Ran hands Fei Du some toffees that Fei Du apparently used to like. 

"The very bottom layer, however, contained toffees, old-fashioned, with roughly manufactured packaging and irregularly shaped candies that glued your teeth together - he remembered how these things tasted." (Mo Du chapter 45 - Humber Humbert XII, transl. E.Danglars) 

The first time Luo Wenzhou takes Fei Du to his home on Fei Du's birthday and puts a box with old candy in his hands. 

So I'd say it's a safe bet to say that Tao Ran got those toffees from Luo Wenzhou. 

Which leaves two likely scenarios: 

1. Luo Wenzhou remembered that Fei Du liked those toffee and kept some to hand them out sporadically. 

2. Luo Wenzhou likes the same brand of toffee that Fei Du likes. 

Luo Wenzhou doesn't read as a character who is particularly keen on sweets to me, so I'm inclined to go with number one. 

He kept those. After they were discontinued. And just like with the game console, he has Tao Ran deliver them to Fei Du. Then, the first time Fei Du comes to his home, he immediately remembers and hands them over. 

Draw your own conclusions. 

#mo du #silent reading #luo wenzhou #fei du #zhoudu #priest

[pollylynn]

Title: Gyre WC: 850

“Action is my middle name. —Richard Castle, Ghosts (1 x 08)

Although it might not be apparent to the casual observer, Richard Castle is on a Kate Beckett–related roll. The timing only appropriate. April—his birthday month—is drawing to a close, and after what might have appeared to the untrained eye to be a somewhat slow start on this  front, he has had Kate Beckett in his home at least once a week, voluntarily (most of the time), no less. 

He’s closing the month out strong. That should be obvious to anyone. He has not only accomplished a four-peat, he has—this time—gotten her into his home for strictly recreational purposes. He has served her snacks. He has fetched her drinks, and if she has insisted that those drinks be of the soft variety, well, the fact that she has brought her work ethic with her does not, in any way, negate the fact that Kate Beckett—not Detective Beckett—has accepted a 100% social, completely non–work related invitation into his home. 

Along with her co-workers. And her boss. With his mother decidedly ill-cast as chaperone.  

It’s not that he regrets any of that. It’s been a thoroughly enjoyable night, talking trash, and everyone has been giving away everyone else’s tells all night, and it’s been fun. But as much as he wants do to a victory lap—as much as he wants to take the steps two at a time to the roof and call out for all of New York to hear that Kate Beckett has been in his home four weeks in a row—he looks around the table and sees the safety net he’s woven here. 

Ryan and Esposito are definitely in. 

He’d rushed to tell her that before he’d so much as though of inviting them. Poker. He had, of course, intellectually understood that poker involved multiple people. He’d just given no thought whatsoever to who those people—other than her—might be.

Oh, totally, in. They’re dying to see the loft. Dying to take my money, his hearty chuckle, he’d told himself, was totally natural. Not at all forced. As if, Beckett. As. If. 

And the Captain is a sure thing, too. He’d no sooner finished spinning the tale of the boys champing at the bit for a poker night than he found himself making a frantic mental note to bribe and/or kidnap Montgomery for a seat at the table. Oh, you should’ve heard him, going on and on about how he was going to win back his pride and his cash after the beat down he’d gotten.

The fictions as he tried to build his iron-clad case for her very definitely coming to his place for very definitely personal, social, and not at all work-related reasons had flowed freely enough to impress even himself. 

And, of course, Mother will be there. 

That horror was already spilling out of his mouth when he realized that a not even particularly hesitant yes was already spilling out of hers, and what on earth had possessed him?

It’s a question he’s been asking himself a lot over the last two months. He thinks it’s probably a question that the casual observers with their untrained eyes—who have completely  failed to notice that he is totally on a Kate Beckett–related roll—have been asking themselves: what on earth has possessed him? 

This is not his MO. Richard Castle does not do safety nets. He does not wait for the woman of his current dreams to show up when she has a murder-related problem. He does not lure her into his Bat Cave with the lowlights of his second-to-least favorite Derrick Storm novel and cow’s foot stew on the down low. He doesn’t settle for sending the world’s most gorgeous dress, enjoying a dance with her in the world’s most gorgeous dress, and never speaking of it again—at least outside the confines of her highly unflattering version of the same evening, as related to his mother and daughter. He does not suffer chaperones, and he is not a once-a-week kind of guy.

This is so pointedly not his MO that his mother, Queen of the Casual Observers, has not only noticed, she has taken matters into her own hands. She has called the woman of his current dreams and tattled on him in an apparent attempt to light a fire under one or both of them. 

He could kill her. He could just wring her neck. Except it scores him another twice-in-one-week week. It scores him another totally social in-home poker game, if one discounts the fact that she works with or for every other person he has, once again, invited to create some bizarre, very-not-Richard-Castle safety net of propriety. So maybe he should get his mother some kind of gift card or giant bouquet of thank you roses, instead, because she is here. So is the Mayor, her boss (again), and a judge, but she is here.  

He has no idea what has possessed him lately. He only knows he’s on a Kate Beckett–related roll, even if it’s a slow one. 

A/N: Richard Alexander "Action" Rodgers Castle. I think not.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #CastleABC #Castle: Season 1 #Castle: Ghosts #Castle: 1 x 08 #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Martha Rodgers #Lanie Parish #Alexis Castle #Johanna Beckett #Jim Beckett #Roy Montgomery #Javier Esposito #Kevin Ryan #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Fabrications

[see-arcane]

Hey hey hey. Do you Good Omens? You wanna see my Faust/Good Omens mashup?

I do not do Good Omens. Not recreationally, anyway. But I have read the thing now and then and have suffered the transformation of all my songs into Queen albums upon entering my car, as is natural.

I sincerely hope your mashup involves Crowley and Mephistopheles complaining about their workload.

Every time Crowley even mildly thinks about switching up his career path from General Menace to Active Soul Acquisitions, he meets Meph for drinks and immediately changes his mind.

Poor guy is one step down from Crowley's own MO, gives his victims a fair warning, points out all the red flags of dealing with Actual Factual Hell--but by luck, good or ill, he keeps getting saddled with utter self-satisfied dunces who sign on for their allotment of the Devilish Delights package (c), blow all that magic endowment out their ass on frivolities for a few decades, then try to weasel out of their end of the contract at the last second with a few Hail Marys and God-forgive-mes.

"You know Corporate--Downstairs, I mean--they're talking about marking Goethe's birthday as a holiday?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Apparently enough of the acquisitions read into his version without ever touching Marlowe's that they just kind of assumed they had the same out."

"That'd figure. We get time off for that?"

"You know better than that. It's less than a bank holiday, no vacation time. Just something to say when we raise a glass." Meph raises his glass of tear-salted blood. The martini umbrella dances on the rim. "Happy Goethemas. Even now he still keeps the damned idiots damning themselves." Cue a bitter slurp. "Of course, Goethe didn't reckon what kind of fun we'd be having with their lot in the future."

"Oh, Hell. You have a fun one?"

"Fun with a capital F." Meph turns to him with pain in his natural face; a thing already prone to causing pain on sight. "Genie kink."

"I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well. It'll at least be vindicating when Barbara Eden wiggles her nose a final time and sends the bastard screaming down into a bottle of eternally burning acid for a couple lifetimes. Going to blare the theme song in there the whole time too."

"Make it a dubstep remix."

"Obviously."

#could I answer like a normal person with a straightforward 'Yes and yes?' #sure #will I? #Absolutely Not #good omens #doctor faustus #faust

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday Shana!!! I wish for a continuation of the Lady Mo story if you have any inspiration. Otherwise I would love any untamed promt!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

"Are you hurt?" Sizhui asks anxiously, jumping off his sword to tun towards Lady Xuanyu.

"Nah," she says, wincing as she stresses. "Well, nothing important."

"You're bleeding!" Jingyi shouts at a really unnecessary pitch. He unsheathes his sword and points it at Song Lan. "What did you do?"

"Stop that," she scolds, knocking his sword down. "Go get Xiao Xingchen and the girl. He's probably really confused right now."

Song Lan's expression clears and he bows to her before flying off.

His father jerks as if to go after him and Lady Xuanyu calls out, "Leave him be! He's doing what I said."

Lan Wangji hesitates, but nods and finally descends to join them. He towers over Lady Xuanyu, looking down at her with a fierce glare that makes Sizhui cringe even though it's not directed towards him. "What happened?"

"Found Xiao Xingchen, found Xue Yang, Song Lan killed him," she says, not even so much as lowering her eyes. "Xue Yang, not Xiao Xingchen, obviously. Wasn't this guy supposed to be killed during the war or something? It was a little before my time, so to speak."

"Song Lan is unharmed and you are not," his father says, lifting a hand to press it against the sluggishly bleeding wound in her shoulder.

Lady Xuanyu hisses at the contact but doesn't pull away. "He's a more experienced cultivator. Give me a couple hours and they'll be all closed up."

It used to take days for Lady Xuanyu's golden core to heal anything more complicated than a paper cut. She's strengthened it to the point that what would have been weeks of healing is reduced to just a day.

"He should have protected you," Sizhui says stubbornly. He'd rather she didn't have to heal at all. "Why did you run off with him anyway?"

"Had a hunch and figured I'd be back before you noticed," she says. Jingyi sputters. "Also, I don't need him to protect me, geez. He's a more experienced cultivator, but I still am one. I've gotten more hurt in training."

It's true, but Sizhui doesn't like that either. To harm ones body without cause is against the rules. Perhaps it's not entirely without cause, considering her rapid growth, but none of their teachers had ever beat them as badly as she demands the disciples beat her, and their cores had all turned out fine.

"What hunch did you have?" his father asks.

She winces and says, "Oh, you know, womanly intuition."

It's a lie and not even a very good one.

Lan Wangji's eyes narrow but they're interrupted by Song Lan returning with two people balanced precariously on his sword. Sizhui assumes the other man clad all in white must be Xiao Xingchen but doesn't know who the blind girl that looks to be about his age is.

"Xuanyu!" the girl calls out joyously, causing him to reevaluate his assessment of blind. She's being awfully familiar with his step mother. The girl leaps from the sword before it's fully on the ground and goes running towards them, shoulder pass Lan Wangji to body slam into Lady Xuanyu. "You're still alive, right? You said you would be!"

Lady Xuanyu laughs, closing her arms around the girl's shoulders. Her shoulder is bleeding again now that his father isn't keeping pressure on it. Cant the girl see that she's injured? "Yes, yes, I'm still alive. Excellent work keeping Xiao Xingchen out of the fray, A-Qing. I knew I could depend on you."

The girl - A-Qing, apparently - glows under the praise, beaming up at Lady Xuanyu, still with her arms around her waist.

What's her problem anyway?

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #otakuwithlife #untamed

[senditothemoonn]

obligatory scotfra but also engspa??

Gives nose/forehead kisses: Alasdair (because Fran couldn't reach if he wanted to...okay maybe if Aly is sitting down)

Gets jealous the most: Alasdair. I think it comes from a mix of insecurity and possessiveness. Mostly the latter. He does not like to share ajsjdjs he will maybe give the odd threesome a go because rarely can he say no to Francis (and Fran stops suggesting them once he realises how much it bums Alasdair out) but in general he can't stand the thought of Francis with anyone else and he is not afraid to mark his territory. I think especially when he's drunk he gets real handsy and overzealous with the PDA because he needs everyone to know that Fran belongs to him.

Takes care of on sick days: I think they'd take care of each other in different ways. Fran would be so dramatic when he's ill 'im dying' etc 😭 he just wants someone to pamper him, cue Alasdair who will do anything in his power to make sure Fran is comfortable. Alasdair, on the other hand, is one of those people who can't admit when they're sick and will literally not stop until he drops at which point Francis will coddle and kiss him and nurse him back to health whilst also making sure to tell him off for not taking care of himself.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: Francis, I don't think an explanation is needed ajsjdks

Brings the other lunch at work: Francis. Again, no explanation needed, he loves cooking for his man 💖

Tries to start role-playing in bed: *tries* being the keyword here ajsjdjs I think Aly would try anything for Fran at least once and vice versa ofc but Fran is definitely the one to initiate most of their raunchier bedroom explorations.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: It would take many, MANY drinks but I think if you get enough alcohol in him, Alasdair will crack out some of the most embarrassing dad dance movies you've ever seen.

Firmly believes in couples costumes: at first only Francis but he quickly shows Alasdair the light and disgustingly romantic together every Halloween. They never miss an opportunity to be disgustingly romantic on Halloween or at a costume party.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: Francis. Christmases, birthdays, weddings, baby showers, Tuesday nights ajsjdjs my man will take any given opportunity to shower people with gifts. Much to Alasdair's chagrin, his husband's love language is apparently expensive gift giving.

Makes the other eat breakfast: see, I think Fran obviously loves making and preparing food for other people but then will neglect himself (also food issues asjdkfk) so usually Alasdair will be the one who has to remind Fran to eat something himself.

Remembers anniversaries: Fran is a scatterbrain, actually. I think he is the type of person who buys gifts in advance, like if he sees something that reminds him of someone, and then keeps them all locked away in his wardrobe. So then when Alasdair greets him unexpectedly with a "happy anniversary, mo chridhe" he can whip out the antique kilt pin he saw three months ago or the set of golf clubs that were on sale.

Brings up having kids first: in my mind, it's Alasdair. And if it's omegaverse then definitely Alasdair ajsjdkss. I think he would look back on his childhood with a big family and lots of siblings fondly and want that for his own kids. But I also see Fran as an only child so in some aus as a compromise I can see them having three kids. Unless lil baby Mattie is their lovechild of course then I think he'd be their only child.

Kills the bugs: catches them in a jar and takes them far enough away that Francis stops screaming.

First to define them as a couple: okay this one is so hard because part of me knows that Fran is a lot more open than Alasdair with his romantic side BUTT if you've read the FTF series (my canon) then you will know how turbulent their relationship is and so I think they'd both be slightly reluctant to admit their feelings for each other or define anything but because I love the series so much and honeslty can't see it happening any other way, I think Alasdair is the catalyst that starts the beginning of their relationship. Once it's begun though and they grow comfortable and used to each other's idiosyncrasies, I think that Francis would be the one to define it because he knows Alasdair well enough to realise he's too nervous to do it himself.

Who hides their guilty pleasures longer: Alasdair. Fran doesn't know the meaning of the words guilt and shame ajdjdjsj I dont think he believes in the phrase 'guilty pleasure' if it brings him pleasure, why would he feel guilty about it? Alasdair on the other hand is probably ashamed of like 90% of the things he does (with Francis' help we can get that down to like at least 30%)

Snorts while laughing: Francis.

🌸🌸🌸

I don't have much experience with Engspa but I will try my best 🩷

Gives nose/forehead kisses: I think this definitely seems like a Toni thing 💗

Gets jealous the most: Arthur, probably. Sad insecure, anxious little man - he can't help it :(

Takes care of on sick days: I think Arthur, just like his brother, has a problem with overworking which leaves Toni to look after him.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: I think this is just as obvious as with scotfra but Toni. I think it's so easy to imagine RT chan, in his oversized t shirt, being dragged to the beach reluctantly and god forbid he has to take a dip in the sea 😩

Brings the other lunch at work: this also seems like a Toni thing.

Tries to start role-playing in bed: we all know Arthur is a kinky little shit beneath all that and tweed.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: Arthur, for sure.

Firmly believes in couples costumes: Toni but I think he'd get Arthur into them. Arthur would be all like "this is silly" and then like 5 days after Halloween be like "okay so what are we going as next year?"

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: I think if you've made an agreement of any sort with Arthur and then break it, he'd get so flustered. So for his sake, neither of them.

Makes the other eat breakfast: Arthur is absolutely the type of guy to forget to eat, bless him.

Remembers anniversaries: Arthur is also the type of guy to forget anniversaries I think so he makes sure to write everything down meticulously (and still probably ends up forgetting somehow ajsksks)

Brings up having kids first: hmm I'm not sure. I can see either of them doing it but I suppose since Arthur is shy maybe Toni?

Kills the bugs: hmmm Arthur? He'd just straight though eat them though because he's feral.

First to define them as a couple: terminally repressed Englishman like Arthur? Nah i think not, this one is up to Toni.

Who hides their guilty pleasures longer: imma have to give it to Arthur, poor little repressed man.

Snorts while laughing: hmmm... Toni.

#okay if you read this far ily #and im sorry for rambling #but thank you keeping me occupied at the airport #this was fun 💖 #scotfra #engspa #ask #headcanons #feel free to send more ships

[skippyv20]

Revenge

Hi Skippy

I won't bore you with my opinion after finishing the book, but rather point out some highlights.  

Thomas Markle raised a narcissist who believed that only her truth mattered.  The title Revenge refers to MM accusing the BRF of racism because she couldn't share the spotlight with the Queen and use the BRF as a platform for fame and fortune.

MM, as we know, was a social climbing gold digger and very busy using all kinds of people to get ahead before discarding them. She wasn't a good actress because she always played herself rather than the character. The writer of Suits watched her inter-warp with the character Rachel Zane. He wrote bits of MM into the character and MM took bits from the character for her real life.  Apparently the writer (Aaron Korsh) had fun with that.  Larry King the tv host believed MM had an affair with Patrick J Adams after interviewing them together at a hotel. 

MM was savvy enough to know she needed a brand to get more fame and started the Tig.  She had never in her life mentioned racism except for 2 incidences - the infamous box-ticking episode at school where she couldn't decide if she was black or white, and one time when Dorito was driving and another driver yelled at her.  Emma Watson became MM's hero but unfortunately MM couldn't emulate her even though MM too got a gig addressing the UN (not the main event but a side show where Hillary Clinton was present).  MM only talked about herself and even told the story about getting a reply from HC over the soap dish commercial (which she never did - Thomas Markle lied to boost her ego which was successful). The Fiji market thing was because the UN Women were there and MM had already blown her chance with them by demanding to be a UN ambassador rather than the advocate they appointed her as.  Later, back in Montecito, she got heavily involved with Black Lives Matters but stopped short of their more radical activities.

Michelle Obama had tried to advise Meghan about life in the spotlight after marrying Harry through a speech she made which was ignored.  MO obviously didn't like what she was seeing and backed right off.  MM and Harry weren't invited to Barack Obama's birthday party in the Hamptons.

Doria was a self interested, pot smoking loser who told Thomas Markle she had set up a market business and that's why she was dropping MM (9 years old) off with him on a permanent basis.  Thomas had no idea why Dorito would need to be away for 3 weeks at a time but as usual, never questioned her.  T & D had over the years "got together" even though they were divorced.  She was with other women and men during their marriage. Thomas never won the lottery, that was a lie Thomas Jnr told a reporter.

Knowing the importance that MM put on celebrities, Markus Anderson introduced her to Princess Eugenie at Soho House, and MM thought PE might be able to help her.

MA, Misha Nonoo, Jessica Mulroney and MM went on a holiday together.  Misha's marriage to Alexander Gilkes (remember Eugenie worked at his Paddle 8 gallery) was on the rocks and with the exception of JM, all were looking for a partner to give them a leg up on the ladder of fame and money.  Prince Harry was discussed as a candidate for MM.  After that trip, MM went to Wimbledon as she was being paid by Ralph Lauren to appear in their clothes.  She met Violet van Westholz there who was Ralph Lauren's PR person AND Harry's childhood friend. V was asked by MM to make the introduction.  Violet got in touch with Harry about the idea, and he watched Suits and decided he would go on a blind date with MM who then enlisted MA to organise a private room at Soho in London.

On the day of the date Friday 1st July 2016, she had a lunch date with Gina Nelthorp-Cowne (who had been unsuccessfully trying to break MM into the British scene for a while) and told her about it.  Although Bowers doesn't say what her line would be, MM told G that she knew exactly what to say to hook Harry from the get go. MM then returned to Canada in mid-July and told Cory V it was over.  He wasn't sorry as MM had been a pain in the ass for a long time bragging about her New York friends. 

MM had deliberately started going to New York to try for more fame and money than she got in Canada, and through Rory the Irish golfer met John Fitzpatrick the hotelier.  JF was heavily involved with the Clintons.  He got MM to the White House for a function where she met Barack Obama. JF says that "officially they weren't in a relationship, they were just friends."

Harry's troubles as a child were ignored by Diana and he was an academic failure.  He decided on the army as a career and found himself happy there.  The only reason he left the army was because he could not progress further without an education. Prince William and Harry both hated the press and believed that they killed their mother.  William was a hothead and Harry always tried to protect him from flack while they were rebellious teenagers. Charles left them to their own devices while he was with Camilla.  As he got older, William saw there were more factors at play in Diana's death than the press but Harry stuck to his original feelings. They would not accept Camilla, and Harry still doesn't. Charles pressured William and Harry to approve of Camilla becoming Queen Consort, Harry never will but William finally acquiesced recently.  

The Queen has made mistakes by not separating family from duty, especially with Charles, Andrew and Harry.  Lord Geidt was ousted as the Queen's private secretary via pressure from Andrew and Charles.  LG's deputy, Edward Young who replaced LG, was not really effective at dealing with MM and Harry's shenanigans. It appears Jason Knauf was initially out of his depth with MM too.

The Queen had approved MM being "fast tracked" into the BRF because she thought it would make the monarchy look more appealing. The book mentions the Queen playing the "long game" and she personally approved of the measures to make sure Harry knew he was now a second row royal.

Thank you so much for putting this together…..very interesting stuff…❤️

[soapppp]

Soap has been killing recruits. It wasn’t obvious at first, as it was always people who had quit or were retiring that went missing. It happened a lot, people leaving the military but too scarred to go home and just went off the grid or started a new life somewhere else. So no one was really that stressed about it. But what stood out to Price was both how consistent the timing was, at least two weeks or more between each loss, and how they all seemed to share similar traits. Big, tall men with lots of mass. Nothing else was similar, not rank, hair, eyes, race, nothing. Only that they were male and could be viewed as giants. Then men started going missing from other camps and compounds. It was rare and only three in several months, but it fit the apparent MO and that worried Price. It wasn’t until someone from his own went missing that it all connected for him. Soap had been doing well, much more behaved and attentive, less complaining and more suggesting. He was smiles more than just his front so people wouldn’t see his hurt, flirty things he was sending anyone’s way if he trusted them enough. (Gaz blushed every time without fail.) Maybe it had been a hunch or some primal part of himself that wanted him of the danger Soap brought, but after the recruit was deemed missing her followed Soap through the cameras through out the day. He found out two things then, first that Soap was defiantly less sane than he had thought, and he had thought he was a madman. He had taken the recruit, who was at least a foot taller than him, into a room and knocked him out before taking him into a room and not retiring for several hours. The second thing was there was a secret room in his base that he didn’t know of. The closet Soap went into had a compartment Soap went into and seemingly did several times a day for possible years. Price is a weak man, though, so he doesn’t say anything. It’s no secret he sees Soap and Gaz as his own, which doesn’t make him ignoring it right, but he can’t put his own son away for life. He doesn’t know what Soap does to them, he doesn’t want to. It’s after Shepard betrays them that Soap gets tense. He shouts a lot, he’s irritable and rude and Ghost can only punch him in the face so many times before he starts to do permanent damage. It’s heavy on his consciousness as he knocks the new guy out and gags him, tying him up and leaving him in a unused room in their new base, but he has to. He tell himself it’s because Soap is a valued asset and they need him, but he knows deep down it’s because someone he cares about is upset and wants to fix it. He leaves a note on the door telling Soap to keep it quiet and clean and then tells Soap to meet him there after lunch. He doesn’t go, not wanting to see any of it. The next day Soap is grinning from ear to ear all day, eventually coming into Price’s office and giving him his birthday present early and adding sloppy kiss to his cheek as thanks. Later Soap would fill him in, letting him know that Shepard would give him toys to play with so he wouldn’t kill anyone important (again) and that he would torture or fuck them as much as he liked until he got bored and he would find a new one. He’d have to ask for the man first and wait for permission, but it was always worth the wait. Price bitterly says he’ll take over that man’s role, more so because he hates the man for feeding Soap’s sick kind instead of helping him, but it’s too late now. He can’t loose Soap, and if he’s choosing who he ‘plays’ with, maybe he can make sure their bad men, people who deserve to be hurt. It becomes their secret, Soap knowing more about what he’s does and Price more about the men he’s sending to a fresh hell than he wishes he ever knew.

#john soap mactavish #modern warfare #captain price