#cons of this particular binder:

[purity-in-blood]

On Your Knees For Salvation

Minors don’t interact! This is 18+ and I beg of you to heed the warnings

Notes-I got a very, very carried away but this was such a blast to write! There were so many routes I could go with this particular scene. Either way I really hope you like it! If there’s anything else you’d want me to write based on the shooting don’t hesitate to send it in.

Tate Langdon x female reader

Trigger warnings: Heavy mention of school shooting, mention of religion (derogatory), foul language, forced worship, superiority/God complex, authoritative kink, dacryphilia, degradation, choking, biting, rape/non-con, loss of virginity, voyeurism, blood kink, gun play, slight knife play, throat fucking, boot worship, dumbification

Tate Langdon walked through the halls of Westfield with practically a bounce in his step. He knew all too well the stares he’s currently getting will soon transform into terror once it’s the right time. For the past 6 weeks he’s fantasized about this very moment and played around with every scenario imaginable. In his mind, this will kickstart a revolution that’ll help purify the world plagued with sinners and a controlling government. Today is one Tate wholeheartedly looked forward to—a cool autumn day that’s perfect for hiding a gun under a trenchcoat, worn many times already with this uniform.

He began shooting in one of the hallways closest to the cafeteria so they didn’t have a clear exit from there. With each shot he relished in the way there’s always a different reaction—a scream, cursing, trying to keep running which only prompted a second bullet to enter. Tate deliberately steps on a wounded student while moving through the carnage, he noticed them crawling and thought to place a boot onto their back, keeping them in place. He took aim at their neck before pulling the trigger even as they tried pleading. The blood splatter wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest, he sucked in a breath and continued walking as the sight and smell of crimson threatened to overwhelm him. Pools of blood, binders and parts of flesh were scattered as well in a way that all seemed like a horror movie set. He violently kicked at a binder in his way and send papers all over, laughing at how everything so easy fell into place. This was only the start of his wrath on those he deemed unclean. Tate had this hunch you’d be hiding studying in the library today so that’s his next destination. There’s no rush after all.

Today I was with my one of best friends, Stephanie, studying for some upcoming English test we forgot about last night. The session together went smoothly until there was this strange popping noise. It made studying far more difficult once tension spread throughout the room an hour later.

I heard what was happening before realizing the dire situation as the entire school ran through the hallway. Screaming was soon accompanied by gunshots which immediately sent me into fight or flight as a student burst through the door. Everyone turned their head as he barricaded it with one of the heavy chairs. I recognize him, Kevin, a childhood friend I’m close with to this day.

“Somebody’s shooting up the school! He’s just shooting people.”

It was like the air had been absorbed from my lungs. My first thought is to run toward him and check if he’s been shot. There’s a noticeable amount of blood on his shirt and skin, black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. But thankfully there didn’t seem to be any visible flesh wounds.

“Do….do you know who it is?”

I fidgeted with the pendant at my neck, the only symbol of my faith that’s on me at all times. I don’t go to services regularly but that didn’t mean I was banned from praying. I’m pleading to our Lord to protect us from the shooter. Silently begging for this nightmare to end as quickly as it started. I hoped against all odds someone heard.

“I-I don’t know. I couldn’t get a good look at his face. He just…shot Mark Kingston right in front of me, blew his brains out.”

The description alone made my stomach churn but it couldn’t compare to what Kevin must’ve seen. He then grabbed my arm as Stephanie joined us behind the very last row of bookshelves. If need be, we might have a chance at scrambling for the tables closest to our current spot.

The three of us held our breath as each shot rang louder and the barricade rattled violently. Over and over the shooter tried to enter. Every kick was with more vigor than the last, making the hair on my neck stand on end. At last, the chair is sent across the room with such force—smashing into the librarian's desk and scattering everything on it to the ground—that everyone cried out before silence settled once more.

The door slowly opens and we get a full view of the shooter. He’s in all black, holding a shotgun in both hands but the thing that chills me to the bone is the cheerful tune he’s whistling. It’s one I’ve heard multiple times in the hallway enough to where I could whistle it myself from memory. I would’ve found it endearing but now it’s as if death taunts us.

He starts from the opposite side of the library but that doesn’t make things any better. Even if we could run for the exit it wasn’t likely we’d make it out alive. He shot Kyle, the lead jock, who curled himself into a ball under a table while begging for his life. Even though I should be looking away my eyes were glued on the horrors unfolding.

There’s another gunshot but clearly the next victim wasn’t dead. Melissa had started crying which only seemed to amuse Tate. He looks down at her with contempt like she was an insect he wished to crush. My hand went to my necklace and I lowered my head in prayer when he finally spoke.

“Quit your bitching! It’s not like I hit a vital organ or anything.”

He then moved onto his new victims, 2 frightened girls who somehow got the same shotgun blast—they were hugging tightly when he fired. The smallest—Cassidy—flew backwards from the impact as the other gasped in pain. He lifted Aileen’s chin with the barrel and her lips parted as if to speak. His other hand went to her cheek to thumb away a tear before lowering close.

“You must understand I’m taking all of you somewhere safe. This isn’t just about revenge. I prepared for this noble war.”

Tate brushed his lips against hers so gently they could be mistaken for lovers despite the circumstances. Luckily for her, the trigger wasn’t pulled and he backed off. Once he’s out of sight Aileen brought her knees up and curled in on herself. Trying to block out everything going on.

Tate resumed whistling as he casually walked among the shelves but we hurried toward the table when he was distracted. Although I was last to move. Stephanie clung to me while I attempted to comfort her and Kevin tried shielding us the best he could.

Somehow, it appears he’s looking for a specific person from how calm he is.

Another crying girl caught his attention and he didn’t hold back—once near her table, Tate kicked a chair and crouched in order to get a direct angle of her. They’re now face to face. Tate’s balancing his weight on the balls of his feet while holding the shotgun level to her heart. She started begging, mentioning a desire to go home as he leaned even closer. Yet again he showed tenderness toward a victim by brushing tears away, cupping her cheek. He’s staring at the girl almost with pity.

“I’m taking you to salvation. Are you ready to be set free?”

She managed to choke out a “Yes”—likely hoping to appease the shooter—which prompted him to lick his lips before firing. There’s a spray of blood and a ragged hole where her heart had been. He cursed under his breath and stepped over her crumpled body, deliberately placing one foot after the other into her open wound. Such a display almost made me gag.

“Oh God. Why is this happening?”

Stephanie whispered close to my ear and I gave her a gentle squeeze. This close, I felt her heart racing against my own chest. There wasn’t an explanation for any of this besides bullying. Or maybe it was something related to his home situation. I knew their household is dysfunctional but I hadn’t once thought of that being the cause of murderous intent.

Simon, the first to be injured, was attempting to call for help. Tate immediately changed direction, leaving bloody footprints as he did so toward the librarian’s desk—nearest to the exit—where the boy lay with his hand crushed underneath a computer.

“Sure. I’ll help you.”

He said it nonchalantly and with a smile like there’s plenty of time to be had. The shotgun is pointed straight at his jaw before the shells rip through him. Blood paints the wall after Simon goes limp and Tate calmly wipes at his face to remove the splatter.

“His face! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Aileen was sobbing hysterically now but is paid no mind. He moved back to the rows of bookshelves and started violently knocking books off in an attempt to scare anyone from their hiding place. The few shots were far closer than expected and we huddled together in the cramped space. Expecting to be shot then and there.

“Pathetic bitch. Get up!”

There's a sound of hurried footsteps and struggling, at first I thought he went over and grabbed Aileen. Until the female spoke. It was one of the injured cheerleaders, Melissa, who I didn’t know all that well but I’m aware of the fact she isn’t afraid of speaking her mind. I both admire that courage and fear for her in this moment.

“That’s enough Tate! You’re not saving anyone by shooting up the school. Honestly, this is the most obvious cry for help I’ve ever seen. I almost feel sorry for you.”

“You think I’ve done enough? I’m just getting started! Well that’s cute, at least I don’t feel the need to vomit after a big meal. I also know you’re the sluttiest cheerleader we have. I’m doing something that should’ve happened a long time ago. You know, I’d make you pleasure me but I have someone…more pure I’ve had my eye on.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when saying that last sentence and it nearly froze my blood. Surely he didn’t mean who I thought. There’s a thud, a gasp from Melissa that almost sounds like choking and then his boots are the only noise heard.

Suddenly, he turned on his heels and it felt like my heart dropped into my stomach when I saw his bloodstained combat boots appear in front of me. Tate Langdon knelt so we’re eye level, it’s disturbing how slowly he did so and the fact his gun is placed over his thighs. Just from body language it was easy to see the enjoyment he got from this.

“I’ve got one question for you, doll. Do you believe in God?”

That voice, oh that voice is dripping with a type of gentleness Tate rarely shows to anyone. It made bile further rise in my throat when he jabs at my religion. The answer is as clear as day since he asked what rested at my throat during prom. It’s likely he just wanted to see me squirm.

“No. I-I don’t kno—yes. Yes, I—“

I couldn’t understand why I tried appeasing this demon in human form. Though it seemed he waited for me to say “yes” before yanking me—by the throat—from my friends’ arms. Someone grabbed at my legs and monetarily played tug of war as I thrashed. Trying to get myself out of his iron grip but it proved useless. I begged, kicked and screamed as he dragged me to some tables. But it didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Why huh?”

He dropped me so I’m flat on my ass. I looked up while Tate reloaded his weapon, placing the shells between his teeth and flashing me a smile. This sadistic, dominant side is one I never imagined a boy like him to have. But maybe you can’t truly know someone until moments like these. He’s quick to cock his gun with a smirk, waiting for my answer.

“Because my parents raised me that way…”

“Why don’t you show me then? Start cleaning my boots. Show your devotion.”

My heart beat like a hummingbird and I was afraid it might burst through my chest. However, if it’s my time to die then so be it.

I sank to my knees in front of him once he leaned onto the table and lifted a boot toward my face. My stomach is in knots as I carefully sweep my tongue over the sole, into each crevice there may be drying blood. Even the leather on its entirety got a nice touch up. I didn’t stop until I knew there’s not a speck of blood or dirt left and I repeated this until Tate’s other boot was like the first. By then, all I could taste is blood and whatever filth was on the bottom. I mutter one last prayer under the disguise of wiping my lips, attempting to scoot back.

He grabbed for the collar of my shirt and hauled me up so my feet dangle inches off the ground. Those dark eyes of his are so dilated that the brown is almost nonexistent. I can even see my reflection in them and it confirms my assumption of being caught by the Devil.

“He won’t be able to save you. I’m right here, I am your God. Aren’t good girls supposed to be on their knees for their savior when praying?”

“Shut up Tate! You don’t know anything about religion and you certainly don’t know mine!”

That’s when I moved faster than he’s able to comprehend, my feet shot out and struck between his legs, that certainly got a reaction of cursing and dropping me once again.

I immediately went for the shotgun, trying to tear it from his grasp but he whipped it upward right when I had the advantage. It struck my jaw with such force teeth rattled and I feared some would fall out. Tears filled my eyes but I stayed defiant, rushing toward him again but this time he landed a blow to my head. Before I knew what happened, I’m dizzily lifting my head to see Tate executing yet another classmate then heading my way. Boots thudding with each step.

His attitude is on full display by kicking a chair forward, sitting right in front of me. I’m muttering prayers once the overwhelming dizziness goes down enough to where I form coherent thought. I gasp and try prying the hand pulling me on my knees but soon realize metal at my temple.

“Hey Kevin. Did you know your little girlfriend is a filthy cock slut? She’s given me blowjobs in the bathroom more than once. Hopefully she didn’t kiss you on the lips afterwards.”

I glanced at Kevin who’s staring at Tate with such rage that if looks could kill, he would be dead already. Tate however, appears rather smug at the reaction and to further prove his point starts undoing his belt. My face paled at the realization and I settled my eyes on the man currently leaned over me. The grip on my hair tightened once I turned my face away, trying to get as much distance as possible.

“Oh don’t tell me. You’re shy to suck me off in front of your boyfriend but not when it’s just us? And here I thought an audience would only arouse you more.”

Tate forced my head downward but even then I wouldn’t allow him entrance. His anger surges and he’s off the chair in a second to push his pants further down. Fully revealing his hardened cock in all its glory. Tate found this situation quite amusing, especially since the girl below him proved unwilling. It only turns him on even more knowing she didn’t want this too.

“Open your mouth, slut. Or would you prefer to have it blown off like his?”

The barrel traces the line tears had gone and stopped right under my chin, in the exact spot where Simon was blown away. I really couldn’t say no or else he’d end my life. Reluctantly, I licked my lips to moisten them, opened my mouth and he immediately slipped inside.

His gun returned to my forehead as a constant reminder that at any moment he could pull the trigger. He’s enjoying every second of this and there wasn’t anything we could do to stop him.

Tate bobs my head along his dick in such a way that each thrust makes me gag. It wasn’t much different from our time in the bathroom but at this moment he didn’t make sure I’m comfortable. Sometimes, Tate would ask if I needed a break or if he should slow down. But this is relentless. My already aching jaw felt as if it might snap at any moment but otherwise I relaxed as much as possible. Every movement of Tate’s hips forced me to take every inch of his thick cock. My tongue moved across shaft to tip, hoping to seem genuine in my effort to please. I felt the barrel slide roughly against my hair as he let out a sigh.

“You go down just like Holy Mary but this time I’m not on a cross. And you won’t be a virgin for much longer, little miss Mary.”

From that insulting comment I dug my fingernails into his thighs hard enough until Tate yanked my head back, getting a better angle that allowed him even deeper. His tip continues hitting the back of my throat with every thrust and I traced each vein with my tongue, fighting the urge to bite him. The only noise in the room was of me sucking him off. No matter the humiliation I kept my eyes on him even as tears distort his face.

I could feel the oncoming orgasm from the way his pace became uneven and it wasn’t long until he shot a load down my throat. After swallowing each drop, he pulled me off and it was a relief having air back in my lungs. The first few breaths I managed were coughs, my throat felt sore and uncomfortable from what occurred.

The fight in me hadn’t vanished so easily.

When Tate glanced arrogantly—for a few minutes too long—at Kevin I grabbed the nearest book and slammed it into his face. It seems I caught him entirely off guard and that mistake is all I needed. He threw his gun on the table and was about to lunge forward.

I suddenly had a burst of confidence, practically throwing myself over the table to grab it before Tate could. I avoided his grasp and backed away, my hands shaking while I lifted the heavy firearm and aimed at his heart.

“My patience is wearing thin. Doll.”

He quickly advanced on me and didn’t hesitate to press his heaving chest against his own weapon. His hand went for the middle then to mine upon seeing my confidence quickly waver, my finger soon slipped from the trigger. God damn it, I wouldn’t be any better than Tate if I did this.

I took in his appearance, bloody-faced from a possibly broken nose and those eyes burned into mine. He’s completely different from the boy I met on my first day of school. The person before me is tuned for the hunt.

“Tate please—“

We’re toe to toe but it’s clear he’s using our height difference to intimidate. I’m pinned between him and the wooden table without a way of escaping. It was my fault after all but either way I had no choice.

“It’s Sir to you. It’s Yes Sir for you! Didn’t your parents raise you to respect authority? I surely hope you don’t behave this way in church.”

I could feel the anger radiating off Tate in waves. He twisted my wrist hard enough I thought I heard bones snap and the gun is ripped from my grasp. It’s discarded immediately and his hands were around my throat in a warning squeeze.

Yet again I tested my diminishing boundaries even as I courted death. Each time my religion is mocked it’s like a physical slap to the face.

“You haven’t the right to be called as such! You’re just acting out in an attempt to gain control of your life when your childhood had none.”

This had been the wrong thing to say.

His free hand went to his belt to produce a switchblade that sliced through my panties. I certainly regret my choice to wear a skirt today, my thighs clenched together in a feeble effort to cover myself from him. I felt fingers trailing up my shaking legs that stopped at the hip. At that, I pressed myself into the table to avoid his icy touch which seemed colder than normal.

“I’m warning you bitch. After I’m finished with you, you’ll wish I had blown your brains out. Why don’t you beg for it? Beg for me to pop your cherry. I mean…I doubt someone like you has experience when it comes to sex.”

Tate’s voice had dropped to a threatening tone and there’s a sudden pulling sensation at my throat. He managed to yank my necklace off and toss it aside even when I caught hold of it momentarily. I couldn’t help the sob that came upon having my religion physically stripped by the Devil. I looked straight at him and said what’s expected past the lump in my throat.

“Ta—Sir. P-please take my virginity. Fuck me like the slut you say I am. I’ll even worship you as…my..my God.”

He slicked his fingers with spit and his own blood and brought them to my cunt after forcing my legs apart. Trying to provide enough wetness. Tate knew it took great effort for those words to slip past my lips so it’s why he entered without hesitation. I cried out from his first thrust that forced my body further into the table, arching my back when a hand slipped under my shirt to harshly fondle my breasts.

“Mmm…am I exciting you already doll? You know, I’ve heard virgins get wet the fastest. It would be terrible for your boyfriend if you’re a lying whore.”

The twisted smile on his face only widened once I truly started to cry. He showed no mercy in taking something we both knew I wished to keep until marriage. I wrapped my arms around his back, clawing at the fabric while my insides ripped at his invasion. It only provided more lubrication as even more blood coats his dick with each harsh snap of his hips. The pace is bruising as Tate buries himself balls deep and soon enough there’s a fire burning in my core. A sensation I tried denying even as this started feeling really good. The hand still at my throat tightened to where I couldn’t get enough air, my vision wavered but his laughter was distinct.

“Tell me, did you ever finger yourself to the thought of me after our sessions? I thought of fucking you like this for quite some time.”

His voice lowers to almost a whisper that’s a strange contrast from the dominant behavior earlier. I managed a nod, tears continue rolling down my cheeks when a moan gave my arousal away quicker than intended.

The pressure momentarily vanished to allow an opportunity to answer.

“Yes Sir. I’ve also imagined what you’d feel like inside me. I often fantasized about it.”

I ran my fingers through his slicked back hair once our foreheads came together in a show of mock intimacy. The sound of skin against skin is so disgustingly exciting, laughter rings in my ears as does the gunshots while he choked the life out of me. His intense, soulless eyes captured my gaze and I knew then he saw everything. My legs shook despite not fully standing which promoted him to slip an arm under my waist. Making it so there’s no distance between us.

Before this situation happened the few of us alive had stifled any noise that might have attracted the shooter. Now I can hear sobbing and prayers all around us. For Tate, this only made him want to fuck her harder and force her to show everyone she’s actually enjoying it.

Tate groaned when my walls clenched around his cock but he didn’t let up on chasing his own orgasm. Unfortunately my first time is mixed with pain and pleasure as my eyes rolled into my head. It feels as if I’m floating when my body suddenly jerks forward but my only thought is to feel him cum. My legs came around his waist when Tate hits a spot that nearly unraveled me.

“Please Sir…”

“Please what? You’ve got to use your words sweetheart.”

His voice is sickeningly gentle. His breath further heats my skin when he laughs into my neck at my desperate tone. Tate shifts our weight so I’m sitting further in his lap, yet another moan escaped at the change of position. The lack of oxygen clouded my mind and to his delight I’m bouncing on his cock like a whore. He’s stretching me to my limit with each thrust that forced his thickness deeper than I thought imaginable. I sharply pulled at Tate’s hair in an attempt to encourage him to speed up the pace.

“Please, please allow me to cum. I need to, Sir. I’m just a vessel to be used by a God such as you.”

“That’s right. Fuck, you’re so tight. You really are a slut after all and an unfaithful Christian. I’ll show you who’s God.”

Those words muttered into my skin are like poison though my body told a different story entirely. Each spot he touched felt ablaze. I felt awful for subtlety moving my hips against the very person who took the lives of our classmates just a few feet away. Tate is by no means a God though continues to act as such. The only authority he has is due to the uniform and gun.

I couldn’t help but consider how good he feels inside, his dick hitting a sweet spot that makes me fasten my legs tighter around him, coaxing him to go even harder.

“I want you to say it. Say ‘You own me Sir. You are my God.’”

Tate’s fully aware he’s being watched fuck her senseless and the fact she’s submitting is almost too good to be true. Another sadistic grin spread across his lips at the thought of what’s to occur when she’s swept to the hospital. At night, he often fantasized about this very moment, raping a girl such as this one before committing suicide. The crying and praying—hers and their classmates—only made him harder. And that she fought back. Tate’s looking into her eyes while she straddles him, her face is flushed and eyes half-lidded with arousal.

“Ah…you..you own me Sir. You are my God.”

My fate was sealed then and there. A few sharp movements were all it took before Tate fully buried himself, blowing his load.

There was only so much he could handle, their foreheads pressed together as her walls started to constrict as if trying to keep him sheathed. Tate admired her briefly, the tear stained face, parted lips, her breath on his tongue and tickling him. She looked absolutely ruined in the most beautiful way.

His cock throbbed and I’m filled to the brim with hot cum that goes deeper than he’s able. I pressed my face into Tate’s neck, nuzzling into him. Whimpering once I felt his blade kiss my flesh. He leaned down and bit my throat hard enough to leave teeth imprints. Soon enough my head lulled onto his shoulder as my consciousness quickly faded.

Tate groaned while pulling out of her before lowering the girl on the floor. She’s already dripping which prompted him to stuff her pussy with the underwear previously cut. Trying to keep as much in so there’s a higher chance of pregnancy. He carefully placed his trenchcoat—revealing his military coat underneath—over her body, then fixed his pants, grabbed his shotgun and headed for the exit. All the while whistling that very tune he had before starting the massacre.

Tate headed for the cafeteria—and shot the few remaining students under tables who were foolish enough to stay put. He picked up a discarded water bottle, drank what’s left and threw it to the floor when finished. By the time he arrived it was already 12:30 pm and it’s only a matter of time before SWAT ruined his fun. He jogged to the library for one last survey of his work. The girl under his coat remained blissfully ignorant of his looming form above her. He licked his lips slowly, admiring her delicate body he just defiled. She looked so fragile. If he really wanted to, he could strangle her or put a bullet in that pretty head right now. Although that wasn’t the plan.

Tate put 6 feet of distance between them, going onto his knees but facing her. He raised the gun to his left temple and pulled the trigger. Hoping to be confined at Westfield instead of that damn house.

The few in the library watched their shooter kill himself less than 10 feet from them. A few screamed out—from relief or shock it wasn't known—and immediately ran for the exit. Except Kevin, Aileen and Stephanie.

Aileen was the first to move toward y/n while Kevin grabbed the broken pendant he cradled in his palm. A part of him was relieved Tate had killed himself while the other wished he’d been the one to do it.

The two knelt beside y/n, each holding one hand. They didn’t need to look under the trenchcoat to imagine how she appeared since they were forced to watch. But for now she’s peaceful which is why they didn’t wake her. All they could do is wait until SWAT assisted everyone outside.

In the end. Tate knew what he did was for a war he hoped others took note of. Their school needed cleansing as does this filthy world they live in. His act of committing suicide wasn’t one of cowardliness but of self sacrifice. He saved his classmates from the truly harsh realities of life. They’re taken somewhere safe, somewhere clean. Perhaps some would understand his actions and regard him a hero. A soldier even. In times of tragedy people looked to God. Right? Wherever Tate ends up he’ll always find a way to make sure people saw him as such. Especially y/n.

#finished letter #under the sheets #dead dove do not eat #tw school shooting #school shooting tw #noncon mention #tw noncon #Tate Langdon smut #Tate Langdon x Reader #ahs smut #dark content #proship #🥀 anon #proship writing blog #proship writing

[ufonaut]

Some highlights of ‘60s & early 70s cons from The Golden Age of Comic Fandom (1999) book. Many of these -- the JSA ones in particular -- were the first cosplays of their kind in recorded history as early fandom was just beginning to take shape and conventions were still considered primarily aimed at science fiction fans. We’ve got:

Dick and Pat Lupoff as Captain Marvel and Mary Marvel at the 1960 World Science Fiction Convention in Pittsburgh, memorably acknowledged as likely the first comic book cosplay in the Xero (1960) #1 fanzine.

Maggie and Don Thompson as Taia and Ibis the Invincible, as well as Larry Ivie and Les Gerber as Batman and Robin, at the 1962 WorldCon in Chicago.

Dian Girard, Bruce Pelz, Fred Patten and Ted Johnstone as Wonder Woman, Doctor Fate, The Flash and Green Lantern also at the 1962 WorldCon in Chicago.

Carol and Phil Seuling as Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel with Otto Binder (co-creator of Supergirl and prolific scripter of Marvel Family stories!) at the 1965 New York Comic Con.

John Clark as The Shadow at the 1970 Phoenix Con, winner of the masquerade ball contest at that same convention.

Bruce Hamilton and Leslie Hamilton as the Joker and Catwoman also at the 1970 Phoenix Con.

Michael T. Gilbert as Green Lantern at the 1971 Comic Art Convention in New York.

For more information on early comic book fandom, you can find a transcript of ‘The Golden Age of Comic Fandom’ panel at the 2000 San Diego Comic Con right here.

#the golden age of comic fandom #comic book history #comic con #cosplay #fawcett comics #dc comics #dc #jsa #justice society of america #captain marvel #mary marvel #ibis the invincible #batman #robin #bruce wayne #dick grayson #wonder woman #doctor fate #the flash #green lantern #diana prince #kent nelson #jay garrick #alan scott #the shadow #the joker #catwoman #selina kyle #hal jordan #u can reblog

[blackestnight]

what's in my bag: hopeless nerd edition

by popular demand (read: like three people), have the contents of my bag when i'm playing ttrpgs in person!

in no particular order:

laptop. i use digital character sheets for most of the games i play, mainly so i don't have to do math every time i level up. pf2 (my preferred ttrpg system) also has specific restrictions for organized play, and the digital tool i use has a settings toggle for society-compliant characters, which is super handy. i can also keep tabs open for quick rules/item lookups.

case, etc. i keep my laptop in a soft sleeve that comes with a pocket for the charger, a wireless mouse, and a tablet pen. the laptop is a 2-in-1, so depending on available table space i might fold it up and keep it in my lap in tablet mode, using the pen to navigate my character sheet instead of the mouse.

power bank. a relatively new addition. outlet space is always at a premium at events, and while my laptop's battery is pretty good, my phone is old and the battery is starting to give out, so better safe than sorry. i got this power pack for like $40 at meijer and it's great.

binder. for holding chronicle sheets (basically after-session rewards handouts for organized play). i have different folders for each character. i also try to keep hard copies of character sheets in case of technological or internet failure, but uh. i usually. forget. oops.

gum. usually with me wherever i go anyway. it's good for mitigating the takeout breath after ordering dinner. also helps mitigate distracted snacking.

water bottle. hydrate or die-drate, bitch.

pens and pencils. even as a person who uses digital sheets, you need pencils. i don't care who you are. if nothing else, you may end up needing to play a pre-generated character and keep track of HP, and you don't want to be the asshole marking up someone else's sheets in pen. i prefer pens for my own note-taking and filling out chronicle sheets, but i always keep a few pencils (a nice one for me and shitty ones to loan to other people).

miniatures. not strictly necessary. not all games use physical minis and maps for tactical combat, and small things like coins, bottle caps, extra dice, or (especially for enemies) candies are all mainstays of the tradition. i don't always bring mine to regular home campaign sessions, but for society play and cons i keep them in a little plastic tacklebox. i have some fancy ~custom~ minis for long-running characters, and more generic plastic ones, plus some poker chips and bases for things like pets, mounts, and summons.

dice. clickety clackety, i roll to attackity. my dice collection is extensive and nearly all blue (gasp). "but cyan," you ask, "do you actually need to bring that many dice?" yes. the most superstitious people you will ever meet are theatre nerds and tabletop gamers. you need several sets on hand to combat the Dice Curse. (or loan to other players. or roll fireballs. et cetera.) my dice bag was handmade for me by my best friend in high school, based on my first ever d&d character, and i still use it all the time. for events where i'll be able to spread out more, or for home games, i also have a dice vault with a built-in tray.

tray. to keep my dice from running away, or getting damaged on the table (or damaging the table if we're talking metal dice). lays flat when unsnapped for easy transport. also, it's a kitty!

notebooks. i usually have a couple on me for different purposes. the skull notebook is for session notes—which i don't usually take, WHICH IS BAD, and i'm trying to get into the habit. i'll write shorthand bullet notes during the session and then tidy up/convert into better summaries in a digital notebook later. the sticker-fied (yes, i put stickers on basically all of my possessions) is for brainstorming and note-taking for my homebrew campaign, because nothing is quite as inspiring as a weekend of getting tormented by other GMs.

book. for downtime/between sessions. the nice thing about tabletop cons is that there's always a chair somewhere.

and that's basically it! i might swap a couple things out if i'm running as a GM, but as a player this is my go-to.

and if you're looking at this and going, "where are the rulebooks?" the answer is i usually don't bring them with me in a physical format when i'm traveling. for PF2, i have access to all the PDFs, but Archives of Nethys and PF2 Easy are both fantastic (and FREE) digital rules references. i prefer Easy for searching items and spells, but AoN is an unparalleled rules resource, and they work directly with paizo to update the rules with each errata release. it has every rule, item, spell, creature, and character option from every book, with no paywalls or ads. the only thing you can't get are official maps or encounter blocks from the adventure paths. check it out if you're interested in playing!

#cyan's ttrpg adventures #journal #HEY LOOK. STUFF.

[hand-painted-work]

A Guide to Selecting the Ideal Art Medium for Your Painting

From Photo to Canvas: A Guide to Selecting the Ideal Art Medium for Your Painting

Handmade portraits from photos are a trend these days. Other than for keeping at home, they also get done for gifting purposes. Nowadays, as most people lead a busy life, it’s no longer possible to sit in front of the artist for hours till the portrait gets done, so, a more convenient option is taken, and that is sending reference pictures or photos, from which a painting is made.

Are you too interested in joining this trend but thinking about which medium is the best? Well, every medium comes with its own set of pros and cons.

Watercolor painting

One of the most popular painting mediums is watercolor. It’s less expensive than most other mediums but doesn’t have any plastic polymer binders and isn’t waterproof.

Acrylic painting

Acrylic portrait painting is quite versatile and fast-drying. Acrylic painting medium is best if you are in a hurry to get the portrait done. Though acrylic colors give a realistic appearance to the painting, they are not as contrastive as oil. But yes, they are less expensive than oil.

Graphite painting

Graphite is a dry art medium offering a smooth and even feeling. It’s quite convenient to get detailed work done with graphite medium and get life-like, rich paintings. Graphite is not as contrastive as charcoal. Such paintings can be made fast, so this medium is good for urgent requirements.

Charcoal painting

Charcoal drawing offers very high white and black contrast that makes your portrait look quite elegant. A painting with charcoal can be produced quickly and it generates a rich range of black color. With a white and black combination, a portrait painting made using the charcoal medium looks quite cool and can be a great gift. This particular medium allows the artist to capture the details of the subject nicely.

Oil painting

If you want to know which medium is super fine and crazy popular nowadays— it’s oil. In oil paint, the depth of colors is high and it’s flexible. It allows a wide range of tonal transitions and shades. In addition to these, oil colors produce good effects as well as glossiness. Do you know that an oil painting made on canvas can stay for around 200 to 300 years? You don’t need to frame it to make it look even nicer. It looks grand even without a frame. Want to turn a picture to oil painting? Reach out to a famed portrait painting service now!

Read more articles about Painting from Photo here at - http://eggzack.com/article/2023-09-29-capturing-emotion-in-brushstrokes-the-top-3-reasons-to-choose-oil-pai.html

#Portraits #Picture to Oil Painting

[cicotechgroup]

What Are The Different Types Of Roof Waterproofing Materials?

In this article, we will explore the different types of roof waterproofing materials available in the market. We will look at the pros and cons of each material and the cost and availability of each type. We will also discuss which type of waterproofing material best suits your roofing needs. As a homeowner or business owner, it is essential to be informed about these materials and their potential risks. By the end of this article, you should have a better understanding of the different types of roof waterproofing materials and the benefits each material offers. With this knowledge, you should be able to decide which type of waterproofing solutions is best for your particular situation.

Introduction to Roof Waterproofing Materials - Definition, Purpose and Benefits

Roof waterproofing materials are designed to protect structures from the elements. They are used to keep water from entering a building or other construction and provide insulation from heat and cold. Roof waterproofing materials can be used on any roof, from flat roofs to pitched roofs, and can be applied in various ways.

Bituminous Membranes - Properties and Advantages

Bituminous membranes are waterproofing materials composed of special asphalt binders placed over substrates such as concrete, plywood, or metal. They come in two forms - hot-applied and cold-applied.

Polymer Modified Bitumen - Properties and Advantages

Polymer-modified bitumen (PMB) is a type of wall crack repair products India that combines bitumen with a polymer, such as styrene butadiene styrene (SBS). It is highly resistant to weathering, abrasion, and cracking, making it an ideal material for waterproofing roofs. 

Liquid Applied Membranes - Properties and Advantages

Liquid-applied membranes are a type of waterproofing material that is applied in liquid form over the roofing surface. They are composed of polymers and solvents mixed to create a thick, adhesive film. This film is then left to harden and form a water-resistant barrier that prevents water from getting into the underlying layers of the roof.

Polyurethane Liquid Membranes and Reinforced Cementitious Membranes - Properties and Advantages

Polyurethane liquid membranes, also known as liquid-applied waterproofing membranes, are famous for water leakage solution in Delhi substrates. These membranes are composed of polyurethane and are typically applied with a spray or roller. They can also be used with a paintbrush or trowel. Due to their flexibility, they can be applied to many different surfaces, including metal and concrete.

In conclusion, top waterproofing companies in India are essential to keeping your roof in good condition and protecting your property from water damage. Different types of waterproofing material offer different levels of protection, so choosing the suitable material for the job is essential. All waterproofing materials have pros and cons’, so weighing the options and selecting the best fit for your needs is crucial. The most critical factor in any waterproofing project is proper installation, so follow the manufacturer's instructions and use a professional for any complex or challenging installations. With suitable materials and installation, your roof should be well-protected against water damage for years to come. 

#topwaterproofingcompaniesinindia #waterleakagesolutionindelhi #wallcrackrepairproductsindia #waterproofingsolutions #roofwaterproofing

[pajamalayer5]

5 Minute Manifestation Evaluation

I use to think that it was simply way to far on the market but for years believed in it’s worth as an athlete. It wasn’t until the previous few years have I realized it’s worth in our daily lives. I’m interviewing one hundred youth age around the world right now and it’s a mind-blowing expertise what individuals are sharing. Hey Bell, we honor everyone’s beliefs right here, including yours. I, too, wrote poems during those brooding adolescent years. On lined binder paper, secured in a black plastic spiral pocket book, I deposited lyrical expressions, photographs of the torture of being misunderstood. None of this happened without plenty of stops and starts, complete uncertainty and learning to simply trust in myself and the universe. Get out of my very own way and out of my head and get transferring. I realized with hindsight that so most of the mishaps had been actually the trail to the large things. To help you get to sleep quickly, these bonus tracks could be best for many who haven’t slept nicely in a while. These new audio tracks are designed to slow down your brain waves, allowing you to go to sleep peacefully. The following are some traits, execs, and cons of the highest manifestation programs. You will fill your mind with constructive thoughts by eradicating all negativity. I don’t know if i have time to heal these things before i need the money to pay the payments. I love this video as a end result of it permits me to meditate on readability and what it means to be sure and without doubts. Despite the psychological chatter, and even though I don’t use the word manifesting that much, I consider in inside work and what it may possibly do. I’ve done a lot of inner work, final year in particular, and I’m already shocked at what has turned up in my life up to now. I manifested a profitable enterprise in a really quick period of time. I focused on being profitable at promoting one thing that I made by hand. These sacred frequencies have been compiled in 5 different audio tracks to target the user’s vitality fields or chakras and supercharge them. The sacred frequencies used in these tracks will supercharge the chakras, especially the foundation chakra which is immediately linked to the abundance of wealth and prosperity. Since it's within the form of audio tracks, the customers may find it easy to make use of them as they solely have to spare a little bit of time every day listening to it. You can simply purchase this program and get entry to it instantly. This program will assist you to to chill out sooner, and it might be accomplished by any individual, not by only a non secular individual. Feng Shui Environment Abundance Flow Reviews provides vitality to those going through psychological issues and wants to find a method to come out from stress or manifest something.

#Manifestation #Manifestation 3.0 Program #Manifestation Meditation #Manifestation Program #Moonlight Manifestation #Ultra Manifestation Program #Midas Manifestation Program #Matrix Manifestation Program #15 Minute Manifestation Program #Manifestation 3.0 Program Review #Moonlight Manifestation Program #Ultra Manifestation Program Wokrs? #Manifestation 3.0 #Matrix Manifestation Program Review #Moonlight Manifestation Program Review #The Manifestation 3.0

[arctic-hands]

Overthinking myself into an anxiety attack as per usual

#i just need a fucking binder for paper #pros of this particular binder: #it's fifty percent made with bioplastics which makes it more eco friendly than a basic binder #it's cheapish at 8 dollars for 2 #cons of this particular binder: #it proudly proclaims it's MADE IN AMERICA which means it's made with prison slave labor #it's manufactured in Texas and I'm weary about giving money to Texan businesses rn #and i can only get it on Amazon which means it's being shipped by exploited workers #but like every other binder on Amazon or off is one hundred % plastic #and made in China which means it's made by Chinese exploited and/or prison labor #goddamn I just need something to keep loose leaf notebook paper in

[goemoni]

ForThem Binder Review

i just received my forthem binder. i haven't seen any reviews for the brand on here, and only about 3 total on the rest of the internet, so i thought i'd post my own. this shit isn't sponsored or anything.

if you didn't know, forthem is a new brand. their binders are meant to be a happy medium between traditional binders and sports bras. that's exactly what i've always wanted, so i bought one pretty much right away.

PROS:

super soft and comfortable material. like i cannot overstate how comfortable it is. its some kind of nylon blend, so it stretches and isn't stiff, while still offering some compression. and it's recycled material

definitely binds better than my sports bras. in my particular case, it's more comfortable too. i barely notice it's on

no breathing issues, rib pain, or back pain to speak of

it's front-back reversible. one side is scoop neck and the other is v neck. the v neck side comes up a little higher, so i find it binds a little better

fun & unique colors

CONS:

doesn't bind as well as a gc2b or underworks binder. those are the only two i've tried before, so i can't speak for other brands

i can see it not working out as well for larger chested people, due to the overall length being shorter than your average binder. however, some reviews on their actual website mention the binder working well for bigger chests, so do with that what you will

your color options are limited depending on what size you need, because they use recycled material. also only one skin color option is available (beige)

they say they'll text you at every update, but i only ever got one text that confirmed my order, and that was after i texted them first to check in a few days after placing it. no shipment tracking.

OVERALL:

i love this thing. if you're disabled in a way that affects your ability to bind, have sensory issues, are just starting to bind, or have anything else going on that makes traditional binders a not great option, i definitely recommend trying forthem.

#binder review #forthem binder #forthem #lgbt #trans #trans masc #binding

[ftm-radio]

a plus-sized trans masc's review of various chest containment methods*

*as you can guess from the title, this post will be discussing the chest area, so if this subject & related terminology is discomforting to you, please skip this post & I hope you have a good day 👍🏻

Okay, so I have 4 methods that I bounce between for dealing with my chest and existing as a pre-op trans guy. I'm gonna write a bit about each one, and I have photos of how my chest looks with all four (clothed, ofc) that I will put under the cut for both self conscious reasons and to be considerate for those who'd rather not see them. idk.

oh & quick disclaimer, this post is absolutely not meant to bash any particular binding method or ppl who use those methods, or ppl who don't bind! no one method is superior, some just work better for one person than another bc everybody's different and all that. just tryna share my experiences to maybe help out other folks like me. ✌🏻

Sorry in advance, I'm sure this is gonna be a long post.

Method #1: No Containment

Pros—

easy

free

may be passable as moobs with enough layering ?

Cons—

underboob sweat at 100% strength

chafing

oh god they move so much, why, please don't, i hate this

Wearing just a shirt with nothing else under it is a great feeling at times, but that's generally short-lived and it's not very comfortable in the long run, especially if I'm being active and moving around. Feeling my chest wiggle and jiggle and move around is just so gross to me, so I usually avoid this method.

Method #2: Compression Top (Tomboy X)

Pros—

pretty comfy for everyday wear

prevents the worst of the wiggles

can exercise in it

could probably sleep in it if I wanted to

Cons—

basically just a sports bra tbh

mine is uh.. ~2 years old & pretty worn, probs doesn't "compress" much anymore 😅

heard that this particular company has done some yikes things?? so I'm not super keen on purchasing anything else from them (I don't have details & don't feel like looking them up rn, just mentioning it so you can look it up yourselves if you want)

This is my go-to method for when I'm just hangin out around the house (which is basically every day). just wake up, yank on the compression top, and then I don't have to think about it until the end of the day! I actually got this as a baby-step to using an actual binder bc I was a little anxious about it lol.

Method #3: Full Tank Binder (gc2b)

Pros—

flat chest

full tank contains everything better than a half tank

ngl I appreciate the fact that it kinda helps contain my stomach fat too bc I am ~☆~insecure~☆~ (but working on it)

Cons—

tbh I think my binder is too big specifically in the chest area so it doesn't compress & hold everything in place for very long, esp if im moving around, but I can't size down any smaller bc that's unsafe

the bottom edge of the binding panel makes it pretty uncomfortable to sit & just makes my stomach look weird

can't exercise or sleep in it

can only wear for 8 hours at a time, max

I loved my binders when I first got them, and wore them almost daily, even around the house, because I felt good & happy in them. after a while, though, the constant need to readjust my chest & having to keep checking to make sure it looked alright kinda wore me down and I got tired of it. going to the grocery store and feeling my chest shift around in my binder and being unable to fix it is just not a good time. :(

Method #4: Trans Tape

Pros—

comfortable! (long as you put it on right 😅)

my tiddies are SECURE they are not going ANYWHERE, I can bend over to pull the laundry out of the dryer with no problem, gravity cannot emotionally damage me anymore <3

I feel like I can move and do stuff and be confident w/o having to waste any time or energy thinking about my chest

my chest is approx a C-cup? (and I'm fat) so the tape definitely doesn't flatten me out but it masculinizes the shape of my chest in a way I'm happy & comfy with! yeah i have a chest but it def doesnt look like girl boobs!! I just look like a fat guy! which I am! so I'm cool with it!! hell yeah!

can wear for days at a time (recommended is 5)

can sleep, shower, & exercise in it

no worries about rib damage/breathing problems

when I hug my mom I actually feel it in the middle of my chest

Cons—

can't reuse tape so gotta buy more to keep using it (~20 bucks a roll with shipping iirc?)

there is a learning curve!! first couple times suck & it can be discouraging (I gave up a couple times) and I'm definitely still learning myself how to use this stuff

physically kinda difficult to put on, it's a bit of a workout for me

itchy (especially if you overstretch the tape, try not to do that)

what goes on must come off 🥲 and removal is kind of a pain in the ass because oil is messy and you really have to give it enough time to soak

need to be patient & careful so skin doesn't get damaged in removal

if you damage your skin you have to give it time to heal, no taping for a while

I am quite new to trans tape, literally this is only my third time wearing it as I write this. My first two attempts were pretty rough (application and removal) but I'm starting to get the hang of it and it's becoming less of an Ordeal as I get used to it. there are definitely some less than ideal factors to keep in mind with using this method, but I've found that for me, the positives vastly outweigh the negatives. when I get better at using this, I plan to make it my primary containment method. I know a lot of folks say that using trans tape just doesn't work at all for bigger folks & bigger-chested folks, but that's not necessarily true. I'm proof.

Alright, that's all I've got!

I dont wanna make this a horribly long post, so I'm sure I missed some things but idk this is the gist of it. If you read all of this, I hope you got something from it (or at least don't feel like it was a huge waste of time....) and I hope you have a good rest of your day!

It's totally okay to reblog/reply/interact with this post, just, y'know, have common sense and don't be a jerk!

As I said before, I have photos under the cut to give you a visual for how these different methods look on me & how they might look for you if you're anything like me. Please do not be rude or creepy or gross, alright? alright.

Method #1: No Containment

...........yeah this is what I'm working with, let's just move on and pretend we didn't see this, please & thanks

Method #2: Compression Top (Tomboy X)

comfy & fine for everyday use but I don't love the look. still looks and feels like a feminine chest shape.

Method #3: gc2b Full Tank Binder

flattest results, looks pretty good, but only lasts about five minutes before the tiddies start their constant migration and it gets uncomfy and I have to adjust everything :/

Method #4: Trans Tape

not as flat as I get with a binder, but the goal with trans tape is a more masculine shape to the chest, not flatness, and I think im starting to achieve that even as a noob! my results will probably get even better as I get more familiar with it, but this is already my fave method by far

bonus photo because wearing trans tape makes me happy and i was feelin good:

That's the end-end of the post, so I will once again request that you do not make any rude or nasty comments about me & my body. thanks!

#a bit nervous about posting this tbh but i wanna share info & experiences so here we go #ftm radio #trans #transgender #ftm #nonbinary trans guy #trans guy #trans masc #trans man #trans masculine #nonbinary #nonbinary guy #ftm binding #chest binding #safe binding #ftm binder #chest binder #trans tape #nonbinary man #fat trans man #plus size trans man #long post

[softsan]

🖇Rage and rust pt.1 (yuta)

MASTERLIST

PARTS: | 01 |

HYBRID PROFILES

GENRE: Hybrid AU!, 1960′s, Drama, Angst, Future Fluff, 

QUOTE: “It unnerved him the falsehood of your smile, the sincerity radiating from your eyes. He knew it ought to be a mask, one humans effortlessly wore. He knew no human to be genuinely kind, for he had seen it too often, that moment when the mask cracked, and their candid face came to light.”

WARNINGS: Discrimination, Mentions of Abuse, 

October 4th 1964.

"Breathe," You took a drawn breath, gazing upward towards the marble inlays and the intricately craved rosewood furnishings of the theatre's auditorium. 

You stood awestruck by the house's atmospheric setting, which included velvety-lined aisles, a control booth, balconies, and a modernized orchestral pit. 

It had been your dream ever since you were but a child to perform at the doted proscenium theatre located in the resort district, a location that attracted many foreign tourists from near and far. 

You had an infinity with the theatrics, dabbling in stagecrafts and costume design at your local performing arts school, central of your small country town. 

You, however, had greater endeavors in mind, an aspiration for stardom on a grander stage. In particular, you had visualized a stage under an established proscenium arch from which the bonnie stage curtains hung in a dramatized, draping fashion. 

Onstage you felt grandiose, larger than. You beheld a persona other than your own, and with the simplicity of your lines, you could deliver an audience to tears. 

"I've finally made it," You proclaimed, setting down your suitcase. 

"Could I help you with something?" The stage manager peered from behind his clipboard, silently motioning one of the stylists to retreat back to the dressing rooms. 

"Yes," You bashfully nodded, "I'm here for my part as Lady Windermere in the latest production," 

The stage manager crossed his arms, a puzzled expression forming amongst his features, "As Lady Windermere?" He questioned. 

"Indeed," You confirmed, "I auditioned last August," You quickly dug into the pocket of your textured body con dress. The pockets were large enough to fit a singular piece of paper that had been purposefully folded over and over into a tiny square. 

The stage manager’s face drained in color, regretfully handing you back your paper, "I'm afraid Mrs. Beautford, the head of the production and owner of this theatre, decided on moving the show case to September," 

You glanced down at your wristwatch, the clockface stipulating it was now October. 

"Due to your absence your part was recasted." 

Your mouth trembled in horror, your previous state of elation slipping away.  

"Bu-t," You stuttered, "Nobody notified me. I would have come earlier, I would have done absolutely anything for this position." You insisted. 

The stage manager apologized, stating there was little that could be done about the situation now.

Defeatedly, you grasped the leather handle of your suitcase, lifting the hand-stitched trim and exposed wooden interior and resting it beside your thigh. 

"Thanks anyway," You lowered your head, "I'll get going then," You soberly walked back in the direction you'd come.

───

Yuta kept his leer to himself, pretending to occupy himself with a dustcloth by the bookcase as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

"Oh, I don't know." Mrs. Beautford dramatized, "I have an awful lot on my plate, with the production and the management of the theatre," She clutched her dangling baroque pearled necklace that modeled around the folds her wrinkled décolletage. 

Yuta brushed the binders of the leather first editions, awaiting for Mr. Randlehand, Mrs. Beautford's money-grubbing estate lawyer's, response. 

Mr. Randlehand played the widowed Mrs. Beautford like a fiddle, encouraging the woman to organize a trust for all her assets in the unfortunate case of her untimely demise. 

"These things need to be prioritized," Mr. Randlehand contented whilst impolitely gesturing for Yuta to refill his teacup. 

Yuta bit the inside of his cheek, containing his disposition. Objectively, Yuta was none other than Mrs. Beautford servant. He had no conditions that required him to wait on Mr. Randlehand. However, irking a scene would only place Yuta in a position of vilification. He complied—for a hybrid would never be accommodated over a human. 

Yuta placed aside the dustcloth before attending to the small table on the idyllic, white-painted veranda. He put on his pair of dark cotton gloves before handling the porcelain. 

Hybrids were the hapless speciesism that humans had denounced from their quintessential society. Their existence had since been reduced to pets, servants, or as their pitiful forms of entertainment. Either of the following situations would strip a hybrid from their fundamental liberties. 

In Yuta's case as a fox hybrid, his character was pigeonholed as conniving and unsavory. In turn, it made him unfit to be a pet. Also, foxes weren't particularly rare, far common than the likes of the big cat breeds. Therefore he wouldn't fetch well in the business of entertainment. This left him in the singular position of servent. 

Yuta poured the tan liquid until it reached the rim of the teacup. Mr. Randlehand pursed his lips and took a sip. He made a disgruntled sound, sitting the tea back onto his saucer. 

"It's cold," He accused. 

Yuta was about to maintain that was because Mrs. Beautford had asked him to heat the pot up forty-five minutes ago and yet, hadn't touched it until now...Yuta decided on holding his tongue. 

Mr. Randlehand tipped the teacup sideways, spilling it over Yuta's tailored pants. Yuta watched as they splashed over his shoes, droplets running down to the pool on the white-painted veranda. 

"Make us a new pot," He dismissed, "Make sure this time it's hot." 

Heat rose to Yuta's cheeks as he collected the tea set, balancing it on a silver tray. He mumbled an apology, bypassing the study to return to the kitchens. 

"Utterly useless," Yuta overheard Mr. Randlehand besmirched, urging Mrs. Beautford to surround herself with finer help.

───

October 10th 1964.

“Ticket for one,” You answered the teller, fidgeting with the frayed sleeves of your three-quarter length shirt. 

Your outfit had consisted of a matching neon green set, your skirt pleated and decorated with fringe. You sported a second-hand pair of go-go boots, the silver bedazzling matching the silver bauble earrings that swung side to side by your cheeks. 

You had tried your best to dress appropriately for the occasion. However, observing the fitted cocktail dresses and fur-collared coats you accumulated, you may be a tad underdressed. 

“Here you go,” The teller exchanged your coin for a geometric-shaped ticket stamped with the name of the play. 

You offered a quick thanks, ready to find your seat. 

“Wait, ma’am,” The teller waved his arm through the box office’s window, “I forgot to give you this,” 

Your brows furrowed, accepting the rust orange raffle ticket, “What is this for?” You curiously inquired. 

“Mrs. Beautford, the owner of the theatre is having a raffle,” The teller began listing off the potential prizes, your ears not hearing anything other than the prize of second place.

“A year-long pass to the theatre?” You exclaimed. 

You stared bewildered at your raffled ticket as you walked through the lobby. 

Please let it be me. You crossed your fingers. 

You passed the coat check, stepping into the auditorium. Your chest sunk as you had recalled the last time you’d come here.

You had spent the entirety of your life savings in order to move the city and pursue the job prospect you’d successfully auditioned for. Furthermore, you had leased a small studio within the downtown building complex, your bond nonrefundable. 

You let out a lethargic sigh. At the very least, could you take a seat and enjoy the show. You flattened the crinkled program, the complimentary leaflet available for patrons attending. It outlined the scheduled acts, one to four, also providing background information of the principal performers. 

Your thumb brushed against the actress’ name that was inscribed beside Lady Windermere’s character. Your heart dropped even further. 

───

The audience clapped, offering their best applause. After the show had ended, a heavy velvet curtain swept across the scene. A round spotlight was then shone down center-stage, a woman dressed in a floor-length taupe dress and an expensive mink stole came forth. She cleared her throat before thanking everybody who’d been in attendance this evening. 

Mrs. Beautford, melodramatic by nature, made the raffle into a puffery display. The orchestra’s trumpet players blowing into their instruments while the drummers began their drumroll to escalate the audience’s anticipation. 

She announced the two winners, which were ushered on stage. You were partly disappointed. You would have appreciated a year-long pass to the theatre, especially now that you were unemployed. 

You discretely stood to your feet, bending your knees in order not to obscure the view of the people behind you. You were disinterested in the surprise gift to the last finalists, opting you’d leave before the crowds, which were bound to occur when Mrs. Beautford concluded her raffle. 

“And our last prize winner—” Mrs. Beautford paused for effect, “Y/N!”

Your eyes widened, downcasted faces turning in your direction. 

“Come on,” Mrs. Beautford directed, “Come on stage dear,” Her hand motioning to stage left. 

Your jaw opened as you were whisked away. You were told to stand beside Mrs. Beautford. She shook your hand, instructing you to smile at the cameras. 

“We’re going to make the front page,” She whispered between her teeth. 

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the flashing lights. 

“Now for what you have won,” Mrs. Beautford broadcasted, capping her hands. “Bring it out!” 

The audience who had remained to hear the final announcement gasped in their chairs as they viewed who came on stage next. 

You, too, were astonished. 

On a mahogany leash, attached to an engraved collar, came forward an immaculately dressed fox hybrid which the handler briefly mentioned was called Yuta. 

You studied the hybrid’s hailing visuals, Yuta’s cut and styled ginger hair, and the pair of groomed ears that stuck upward, adding to his charm.  

Hybrids could be notoriously expensive, even the most common of kinds. Admittedly, it was the first time you’d been in such close proximity as hybrids weren’t readily seen in your small country town.

“Not only will I gift you my faithful servent of fifteen years,” Mrs. Beautford transmitted to the crowd rather than you personally, “I will bestow you part of my fortune, your name to be transcribed in my will and testament.” She broadened her smile, her red lips captured by every cameraman in the room. 

───

October 12th 1964.

Admittedly you were at a loss at what to do as Mrs. Beautford’s private handler dropped the fox hybrid at your small, one-bedroom studio. 

Others would have declared your fortunes had turned for the better, but you’d argued you were no closer to archiving the dreams you set out on the days prior. You were still jobless, behind on the first payment of your water bill, and now had acquired an extra mouth to feed. 

"Yuta?" You gingerly approached, careful not to spook the fox hybrid, "That's what they call you?" You extended a hand for him to shake. 

Beneath his burnt orange locks, Yuta's ears twitched. He, otherwise, made no efforts to acknowledge your presence, purposely averted his kiwi green eyes to the wooden suitcases huddle in the corner of your small-scale apartment. 

You stopped shuffling your feet, your awkwardly outstretched hand descending to brush your tweed skirt instead. The room fell into a deafening silence. One Yuta refused to break.

You continued to observe his mannerisms. From his slumped shoulders and clenched fists, you comprehended he was neither pleased about the exchange of owners nor anticipating this stay with you in your city dwelling.

What am I going to do? You internally groaned. 

It unnerved him the falsehood of your smile, the sincerity radiating from your eyes. He knew it ought to be a mask, one humans effortlessly wore. He knew no human to be genuinely kind, for he had seen it too often, that moment when the mask cracked, and their candid face came to light. 

You're all the same. You are all but liars. He told himself.

You rocked on your heels, scratching the back of your head. You supposed Yuta was accustomed to a more fruitful way of life. After all, his previous owner had been an abundance of wealth tied to her name. He would have been privy to a height of comfort and style, all of which your barren studio greatly lacked.

“Are you hungry?” You asked, abandoning the living room for the cramp kitchen quarters. You came back with a small box, “Pop tarts!” You animated. 

You revealed the frosted crust with a sugary filling sealed inside two layers of thin, rectangular pastry.

Yuta watched you suspiciously from the corner of his eye. It was unusual for a human to conserve to him not only casually but also directly as if he was somewhat equal to your standing. 

Disheartened, your attempt to lighten the atmosphere failed. You took a step closer to the hybrid once more. You gently reached for his hands, placing the box between them both. 

“Help yourself to as much as you’d like,” You told him warmly, “I’ll be in the other room unpacking the rest of my things,” You referred to the leather suitcases which remained. 

Your tender touch left his hand, leaving a coldness behind. He furtively studied you as you turned your back to him, trying to quell the obscure flutter of curiosity from blooming inside of his chest. 

NETWORKS: @czennienet​​

MONI’S NOTE: A little reminder that feedback, likes, reblogs a hugely appreciated. Thank you!

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#yuta #nct #czennienet #nct fluff #nct agnst #nct fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfiction #nct reactions #nct imagines #Yuta Nakamoto #nct au #nct fanfic #nct hybrid au #nct moodboards #🐻 nct hybrid au #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop #mine

[broughttoyoubytheletterf]

Telling the Family (ficlet)

At one time I was going to write an entire series of how different people react to finding out Elizabeth is running for President but this is the only one I ever finished. I’m cleaning out old files, so here have it. 

“You have to talk to your family you know.”

“Hmmm?” Henry continues to keep his eyes on the book in front of him.

Elizabeth plops down on the other side of the bed, disturbing Henry and causing him to give her an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you should have a conversation with them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The campaign,” she responds simply. She settles into bed, pulling the covers up to her waist and grabbing a policy book from the floor.

He stares at her, agape, “Really? You’re just going to throw that out there and leave it to me? Isn’t it a little early to tell them anyway?”

She avoids his gaze and flips open the binder. “Give them some time to process everything, you know Maureen will have thoughts she needs to share. Plus, it’s going to be an invasion of their privacy as well.”

He huffs. “Well shouldn’t you be there when we talk to them then?”

“No.”

When she doesn’t elaborate further, he tugs her reading material out of her hands. “You’re telling me that you’re ready to face the scrutiny of the entire country but you won’t come with me to talk my family.”

“Yes,” she says blithely. She looks thoughtful, “What do you think the chances are that Maureen votes for me?”

He laughs. “Eh, I’d say about 75%, she’s mellowed out a bit since Dad died. So there you go, another reason to come with me, get some experience stumping for votes with intransigent constituents.”

Mulishly she says, “I don’t wanna.”

“Petulant isn’t a good look on you Elizabeth.”

She side-eyes him. “I’m not being petulant, I’m being realistic, I think the chances are better that she votes for me if I’m not there. Also, you’re lying, you like all my looks.” She laughs and straddles his lap.

He grips her waist and smiles. “You’re right.” He leans forward and blows a raspberry on her neck. “But you are coming with me.”

Two weeks later she is sitting on a couch next to Henry at Maureen’s house. She is bouncing Maria on her knees and the four-year old is squealing in delight. She still doesn’t know how Henry conned her into coming and got it to actually happen. She’s dealing with no less than three separate international incidents that could spiral into crises at any moment, but Henry hadn’t let her use that as an excuse. She’s dragged half the State department with her it feels like, Jay is in DC holding down the fort but she has Blake, Kat, Nina, and Daisy in the motorcade out front and Matt is down the street at a coffee shop feverishly writing a speech.

Henry is tapping his feet next to her. He had been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive here, though that could have been because she spent most of the time on the phone, doing her best to restrain herself from yelling at her entire Bureau of East Asian Affairs. She’s not usually a yeller, so maybe Henry is not the only one nervous about this conversation.

Maureen comes back into the room, balancing a tray of glasses. “I have coffee for everyone, but I’m afraid I only have regular creamer, none of that flavored stuff.” She looks pointedly at Elizabeth as she sets her load down. Elizabeth barely keeps herself from rolling her eyes, she asked for vanilla creamer once, a decade ago, and Maureen still likes to act like it was the height of privilege. The child on her lap is getting restless, so she puts her down and she runs off to play.

After everyone is settled into their seats with their drinks of choice, Maureen breaks the now heavy silence. “So is there a particular reason you gathered us all here? Is one of you dying or do you just like to see your subjects scurry?”

Elizabeth lets out a breath, clearly Maureen is feeling particularly intractable, which does not bode well for this discussion, but she also knows that the other woman mostly gets that way when she’s scared. She responds quickly, “Both of us are fine, as are the kids, they send their love by the way.” It’s almost imperceptible, but Maureen relaxes. “The reason you wanted to talk to everyone, all at once, is because…” she rehearsed twelve different was to say this but she still feels unprepared. Henry reaches over and squeezes her hand.

As if saved by the bell she hears the front door open, and when she looks over Kat and Blake are standing there, wringing their hands. She looks at them expectantly. Kat grimaces, “Apologies all for interrupting,” she focuses her attention on Elizabeth, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we just heard back from Chen’s office, he says they’re moving forward with their plans, immediately, they’ve already started..”

Elizabeth interrupts, her face turns murderous, “Get me Chen on SVTC now.” She might yell that last word. She stands up, “I swear, China is going to be begging us to sell Taiwan drones by the time I lay out the alternatives, which reminds me, Blake let Russell know I am 100% behind repositioning the fifth fleet, maybe some military posturing is just what we need, remind them that we have our own array of antiship missiles and that they do not want to get into a damn shooting war with us. Especially over some fucking drones.” She stalks over to the doorway. Kat looks taken aback, Elizabeth rarely curses at work, or ever. She doesn’t even want to look back and see what Henry’s family looks like.

She purposefully softens her tone, though she feels like preventing World War III, for the fifth time this year, merits some coarse language. She gestures towards Blake who is already on the phone, “Tell Russell I think Conrad should call Li. Ask if he wants me on the call.” Blake nods. “And I swear if this is the Assistant Secretary’s fault again, I’m firing her, I don’t care whose niece she is.” She slams the front door behind her.

Henry stares at the closed door for a moment, and sends up a quick prayer for peace, both for the world and in his family. He turns back towards his family, who look a little aghast. He’s not surprised, Elizabeth has done her best to not talk about work around them, and she definitely never lets her temper show like that. He smiles in what he hopes is a disarming way. “So, that might take a bit, so why don’t we talk about something else? Shane, how’s the new job going?”

Shane starts to respond, but Maureen stops him, “I’m not going to wait around while Elizabeth is off starting wars, so just tell us whatever it is you wanted to tell us Henry and then you can both gallivant back to DC.” Maureen’s husband squeezes her shoulder in support and Erin and Shane are purposefully avoiding his gaze so he imagines that he isn’t going to be able to put this off until Elizabeth gets back.

“This is really more her thing than mine, so it would be best if she could tell you.” Maureen glares at him. “Okay, okay, we just wanted to talk to you guys about some changes in our life, changes that might effect you, though we’ll do our best to prevent that.” They all shift nervously. “Well you’ve probably heard the rumors and speculation, but we wanted to let you know it’s true, Elizabeth has decided to run. She won’t be announcing for a while yet, we’re thinking in about four months, but we wanted to let you know now.”

They stare at him blankly, until Erin asks, uncertainty in her voice, “Run for what?”

He almost laughs, because he forgot for a moment that there is a whole world that doesn’t follow politics obsessively, that doesn’t spend every second enmeshed in world affairs. “President,” he responds simply.

That sends them all atwitter and there’s lots of cross-talk and yelling and accusations. He spends the next 45 minutes fielding questions, from Elizabeth’s position on abortion (he tells them they’ll have to ask her, he’s well aware his wife is ardently pro-choice, but he’s not stepping on that landmine before it’s necessary) to, once the kids wander back in, whether that means they can get free tickets to football games.

Elizabeth slips back in, she looks marginally more relaxed, so he takes that to mean there are no nuclear missiles currently incoming. Maureen spots her first and pins her with a glare. “So I hear you’ve decided you want to be an actual queen.”

Elizabeth moves further into the house and resumes her seat on the couch next to Henry. “Well democratically elected is the plan,” she says lightly and reaches forward to grab her now cold coffee. Maureen guffaws. “And really that’s only if I win, which is still a relative long-shot.”

“Once again you’re only thinking of yourself.” Oddly, Henry notes, Maureen’s voice doesn’t have its usual venom.

Elizabeth takes a sip out of her cup. “I like to think I’m thinking of the greater good, how to ensure a better future for our country and the world. Believe you me this isn’t something I sought out, I never thought I’d do this.” Henry struggles to hide his smile, because Elizabeth sounds exactly like a politician, she doesn’t think she’s ready, but in moments like this he sees it. And if he calls her a politician to her face he won’t have sex for a month.

#Madam Secretary #Elizabeth McCord #fic #ficlet #i don't know #feeling some sort of way tonight so you get this #i was going to write one for a lot of side characters #ray merchant #jareth #juliet #craig sterling #etc etc #but i could never get it off the ground

[smallblueandloud]

some leverage: redemption reactions

i finished leverage redemption today! and i don't have anyone to talk to about it so, here we have my reactions for all eight episodes, both positive and negative. please feel free to reblog/comment -- discussions are what i'm here for! (under a cut because spoilers and also this ended up being 2k. whoops!)

EPISODE 1: the too many rembrandts job

the "aww, this guy is trying to pull his first heist! how cute" job

what they chose to do with nate was... interesting. it might just be that i read too many of those cracky "here's how they should explain nate's absence" posts, but i was expecting something funny. the grief permeating this episode -- it makes SENSE, but it was still weird. leverage doesn't usually have sadness like this. pain, yes, rage, certainly, but sadness? not usually

the way sophie immediately spots the signs of a con and slips into a character? phenomenal. i'm here for EXPERTS BEING EXPERTS and this show does NOT disappoint

harry wilson is a really solid character! most impressively, he's not flynn, which is impressive enough that i'm making a whole bullet point about it. i was worried that noah wyle was kinda a one-trick pony, but it appears not! good for him tbh

i'm LIVING for the ot3 moments in this episode. "what happened?" "we happened" YESSSSS!!! i wish we'd had more domesticity, but i know they did what they could

"he gets it from his father" FUCK!!!!!

the discussion about redemption in this episode is FANTASTIC but personally i am still delirious with excitement about "my nana leads a multi-denominational household" so expect those thoughts in 3-5 business days

EPISODE 2: the panamanian monkey job

the "flash electropop concert" job

BREANNA INTRODUCTION! i love her so MUCH, y'all. we only got to see her dynamic with hardison in this one episode, but man, it manages to be one of her best dynamics anyway. i just! i love her! i love the way the team works with her!

"in our field, you're one of the best. but there, you're the only one." god we have ELIOT/HARDISON rights and i am NOT OKAY. just!! them!!!!!! being supportive!!!!!! they have learned how to be sweet with each other! they work together so much better (in part because we're seeing them from harry's outsider pov instead of nate's insider pov, but STILL)

midway through this episode, i thought "huh, leverage always focuses on specific people, when really the problem is systematic, and pretending it's anything different is just an excuse to not fight for change". and then at the end harry talks about how the system itself is broken! i love knowing that john rogers and i were reading the same tweets last summer. it's a good feeling to trust the people making a piece of media

who let noah wyle speak spanish. whoever it was, they need to rescind their permission

god, the parker/hardison in this episode. THE PARKER/HARDISON IN THIS EPISODE! they KILL me friends they KILL ME!

also just like, hardison in this episode in general. he made a star trek reference! he made a doctor who reference! he decides there are other people who need him more! the way they wrote around gina bellman's maternity leave in s2 was good but this was phenomenal.

also i'm here for ot3 crumbs so "is this like the time when eliot wanted us to say no" is going on my ot3-is-canon conspiracy board

this is a tiny detail but eliot taking out the drone with a goddamn ORANGE was so good. he's so good at his job!! they're all so good at their jobs!! i know i literally just talked about this but AAA

EPISODE 3: the rollin' on the river job

the "sometimes you just want to rob a vault wearing a floofy dress, and that's valid" job

i did... not. like. how the villain in this one was an immigrant whose exploitable weakness was a "desperation" to be included in the upper crust. and the fact that they beat him with a literal southern belle who explicitly beats him BECAUSE her family has been in the area for "hundreds of years"? it just feels Iffy.

also iffy about this episode was breanna's characterization. it felt inconsistent. she feels inconsistent across the whole season, but this episode in particular... she tells harry she's only with the team because she's desperate, that she doesn't believe in hope, and then at the end of the episode she tells parker she wants to be there to change the world. and like, even in the first place, she's not here out of desperation! SHE asked to join the team! like, i can see how it all kinda fits together, but it just feels... inconsistent. idk. i think these scripts all could've benefited from an extra round or two of editing.

anyway! i loved the way they tied hardison into these episodes, even though aldis hodge couldn't be there. he has binders! breanna doesn't want to read them! parker did! he put in big letters, "when in doubt, trust the person in the van". i'm just so !!! about how much i love him and how much he loves his team and how much his team loves him. FOUND FAMILY, BABY!

all inconsistencies in breanna's characterization aside, i really liked her speech at the end. i know how she feels! it's really nice to have someone on the team who's from -- not my world, really, but a lot closer than any of the others. it's a nice feeling! i love her a lot. i hope her writing gets more consistent

lol, parker ate eliot's carrot cake. i love the parker/eliot rights we get in this show, they're so domestic and it's wonderful.

EPISODE 4: the tower job

the "hardison made his partners learn klingon" job

watching this episode was what made me go "they're not going to make us sit through a harry/sophie romance... right? right?"

i'm still not sure they're gonna let us avoid it but it COULD work so... i've decided to just not worry about it for now

i liked the number of ways the con goes wrong! it was fun to watch them work on the fly like that. i think them not having a dedicated Mastermind(tm) is a good watsonian explanation for their plans being pretty haphazard in general, but it's good, they think well on their feet

nate was a chessmaster. he had the whole situation in his mind from the beginning, accounting for every possible outcome. parker and sophie are much more adaptive, and it's cool to see. they can rely on their respective skillsets a lot more than nate could

a really solid episode! probably one of the strongest ones in the season. i liked it a lot.

(ALSO as mentioned above the klingon lines were fantastic and not just because they were a star trek reference -- every time eliot and parker both mentioned hardison, together, it added a year to my lifespan)

EPISODE 5: the paranormal hacktivity job

the "sophie was worryingly prepared to fake her death" job

i know why they characterized the client as a skeptic, i really do, and i loved the format of this episode, but also. But Also. she should've been a love interest for breanna and I'm Right.

having a girl's episode was the CORRECT choice. they do crimes in their free time! they fleece newbie, cruel criminals! it's so good!

it would've been cool to have eliot around for the assassin guy, but it was also cool to see the others take him out without having eliot to rely on. it's like getting to see how they'd take out eliot, if they were ever on opposing sides.

PARKER CANONICALLY USES SCRIPTS IT'S THE BEST THING EVER

breanna bristling about letting the criminal into the theater's electric system was so good god i love her so much. she knows hardware! i bet she likes to work with her hands. i bet she stims. i bet she has adhd

actually, sidenote, but i LOVE these headquarters. they look so nice! the stage is so nice! i loved having an episode set in and around it, it was such a good choice.

EPISODE 6: the card game job

the "FINALLY AN EXPLICITLY QUEER LEVERAGE CHARACTER" job

QUEER BREANNA QUEER BREANNA QUEER BREANNA QUEER BR

UNFOLLOW ME NOW THIS IS GONNA BE THE ONLY THING I POST ABOUT FOR THE REST OF TIME

GOD, what a good way to reveal it. it's fully about her! i love queer romances, of course i do, but i don't think i've ever seen a character come out without a romance being their reason for doing so (however indirectly). i still think she should've gotten a date with the client from 1x05, but i really liked this too.

this episode just felt like a love letter to fandom, and i love that. i love how much it shone through. i'm used to writers specifically going out of their way to make fun of fans and laugh at them, so it was just. really nice to have someone stand up and go, no, this is important for a reason! people love this for a reason! it MEANS something!

very fun to watch eliot swordfight. very fun to watch sophie recite a sonnet in her classic fashion. very fun to watch parker work at being a good mentor. breanna was so excited about the card game! they're all so good!

oh, and i guess harry's here too.

EPISODE 7: the double-edged sword job

the "harry is addicted to mobile games, which is a mood" job

hot take alert! i think this is the weakest episode of the season by a LOT. it needed so much more editing. it felt so disjointed, so all over the place. the plot was haphazard but in a muffled way, where you had no idea why they were doing what they were doing. the climax was sudden and didn't make any sense. it was just weird.

i'm not the person to comment on this but it feels kind of lazy to cast an east asian guy to play a socially-awkward tech genius. just a thought.

oh, of course jonathan frakes directed this episode. sometimes his stuff is really good but other times (ahem, ds9 3x02) it's disjointed and all over the place. i'm not even surprised it was him.

idk if i have anything else to say about this. oh! some of the team moments were great -- mostly involving eliot. i loved the moment of him recognizing the headshot, i LOVED the ten seconds of everyone teasing him. he and parker talked about the wellbeing of their friend, the woman whose ex tracked her down!

separate bulletpoint to say how much i LOVED his conversation with breanna outside the house. he's so good at reassuring! he could go deeper there, talking about being better than your worst day, but he knew when not to push! it was so good.

"first off, this guy can't TOUCH hardison" deserves its own bulletpoint because like. y'all. Y'ALL.

EPISODE 8: the mastermind job

the "eliot is more than just a pretty face" job

oh man this post is so much longer than i thought it would be. okay just one more episode and then i'm done.

the callbacks to original leverage were SO well done and made me feel emotions without feeling overbearing.

i didn't like the central premise -- that nate would share so many details with a random insurance agent -- in the first place, but i did like how it allowed them to bring back nate without actually hiring timerty mcasshole.

i liked eliot's insistence that he's more than just the muscle! he is, and it's really good to know, textually, that the writers do too!

me, watching the resolution of the episode: ah, yeah, insurance fraud. a classic!

harry bonding with his guard had "they don't even have dental!" energy and i am SUCH a fan. i know it was all for the con but also give me harry, unable to stop advising people, even when they're actively holding him hostage

parker! on the phone with hardison!!!! ADORABLE

is it just me or was someone else expecting the accountant's name to be something significant? with the way they led up to it, i was waiting for a "sterling" or something else. my sensors were pinging for another tara reveal. i'm still convinced we're gonna get this guy dramatically revealed in the season finale.

a really nice episode! i had a lot of fun with it. and now i want to rewatch the rashamon job, but tbh i ALWAYS want to rewatch the rashamon job.

and that's a wrap! overall, a fun season, i enjoyed it a lot. not as solid as original leverage, but it's the very beginning, and it was put together during a global pandemic, so i'm cutting them some slack. also levar burton is gonna show up at some point. that's a big reason of why i'm cutting them so much slack.

my personal ranking of the episodes is 1x04, 1x06, 1x08, 1x01, 1x02, 1x03, and finally last (and least), 1x07.

what did you guys think of the new season? what was your favorite episode? do you agree with any of my opinions? disagree with any? let me know, please, i'd love to discuss!

#leverage #leverage redemption #leverage spoilers #redemption spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #sb and l rambles #sb and l watches leverage #levred #this is so much longer than i thought it was gonna be #i shouldn't be surprised but ughhhh i'm so tired

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

Pan? Polysexual sounds better now

Back to guys, gay girls, nonbinaries, pan, bi, gender-fluid, and queer people.

I might have to take a recap on matches who are trans for right now,

I still have a lot to learn about what my true identity is for right now.

Because I really can't stick to just one label...

Aye, that's just me. And dating apps are starting to feel like a job, there's too many people matching with me and trying to remember names is getting a lot to handle when you're on 3 different apps and about 20 conversations going at the same time. And still 99 people waiting on you to swipe right on them, on each one. And plus I'm not as picky about looks as I was before, so I'm mostly reading just bios, analyzing photos to see what could be their interests in, and making sure I'm not being too passive on red flags when people talk to you.

I will admit, I still swipe right on them if they're trans and I'm attracted to them. I just know me, I'd rather date someone who was fully transitioned or somebody who is still on the nonbinary, before part. Only because I know me.

I had to watch someone I had already grown into getting to know and getting attached to, and then when I finally got comfortable with them for over a yr, they changed that drastically during those 3months we were separate and I had no idea about it.....I'm not sure if I could watch it happen before my eyes. Cause then I would have to miss the way they were before, because of my attraction to their naturally mixed feminine/masculine looking features and actions. So, ideally I wouldn't have changed anything about them.

I don't wanna grow attached to a voice or a face or a body that will no longer be there tomorrow. I know that person before is still in there, but it's different when you're romantically attracted to them, been intimate with them vs when you're just a friend. My experience shocked and scared my paranoia and fear of change. I remember crying when my dad started growing white and grey hairs in his beard. Cause I never want my dad to change, cause I've grown up with him being this strong man that always was there for me, held me, made me feel safe, calmed me down when I had my moments, and tucked me in when I wanted to feel comfortable. He showed me that he always loved me, always cared about me, and that he was never gonna leave me. As if he's never gonna die during my time on this earth. Seeing his greyishly, white hairs, I thought death and that my daddy will soon no longer be the fun, happy, strong dad that I've always been with as his princess. And that's kind of what vibe this particular person was to me, even though they weren't as smart, strong, or always there for me....cause most of the time my nights alone cause they couldn't or didn't know I needed them to be there fo r me like that to feel loved or just to feel wanted. Cause I couldn't speak up.

But now, that they has turned into a he. I feel like its brutally denying me to chance to not only say goodbye to them as they, but I would have to get reacquainted to HE, with a totally different name, maybe different personality, maybe different sexuality, and I won't know if I like the new evolved version of this person. The fear of the unknown is high for me. Especially when there's a 40% rate of fems that decided to change their sexual orientation after taking testosterone. I 'm possessive about my partners and I would hate to know that after seeing this person physically change and go through so much emotional/mental changes that one day they decide "Hey, I think I like men now, I wanna give this a shot. Could we make this work?"

I would tell Him, to go right ahead and go on a date with that coworker or guy on Tinder/Grinder. But I'm not gonna be here when you come home. Because to me that's some bullshit. And I've known this person well enough to know, that they don't mind using other people to meet their sexual needs that I can't possibly give them due to my actual gender and my body as such. I wouldn't want to share my partner, nor watch them get fucked by another man...because I'm not a man, im a woman...theres a huuuuuugggeeee difference.

And if it ever came to that point 3 yrs later and He became someone I didn't know anymore, because of the hormones changing how they feel as a man, dysphoria gone....I get it, you've hated yourself for years and now you're happy in the dream body you always asked for. But, I would be scared to lose you, to whoever else you decide to open up to in your selections. Cause you're that type to leave to please you and not make it work. I don't want somebody who changes their mind all the time about who they wanna be, who else do they wanna smash, and who else they can flirt with. That's cheater mentality.

And I'm sorry trans community that I'm basing my recent experience with someone as the example for the rest of you. Because I know there are some ftm's who've already changed and stayed with their partners. I just don't know if I could trust this process, knowing the effects, the research on whether or not they become completely detached to women or become bisexual... I can't.

And I'm thankful for the ftm's that have been posting youtube videos and tiktoks for viewers like me who are curious about the possible cons, and physical or emotional changes they've overcome. I was shocked the first time I ever watched a bandaged ftm, who finally unrevealed their scars from top surgery. I've always been preparing myself for this. Because I knew one day, that this cute, fluffy, soft skinned, white latino looking, but really just mixed mocha, nonbinary person was gonna be...changed over a year or so. I thought I could prepare for it, so that when it does happen it doesn't hurt as much to watch to them in pain if the bleeding from the scars are irritating them or if one day they're super cranky and obnoxious for what seems to be no reason. Or if one day they end up feeling they dont need anybody like Zanthos, with the 4 avenger rings lol.

But I'm too damn fucking sensitive. I was born this way. I've always prepared myself with the worst and the best information, that way when it does happen, the tidal wave of emotions from the reaction, doesn't end up torching my soul or blowing me out the water. Cause I am gay. I adore women, men, and when I met this person I loved them as an in-betweener as nonbinary. They are so brutally harsh, twisted, manipulative, jealous, and possesive. But I've always liked that they had these emotions inside of them that they hold back because they don't wanna seem so soft, always hiding this feminine quality about them because ideally, they're pretty looking, gorgeous eyes that can turn black cold like obsidian, and those fucking cheeks and cat nose. I've only seen the slight hips, but I didn't mind it. And they've always hid their body away even when we would try to have sex. I knew the dysphoria was there, cause again I prepared myself to be patient and kind.

So, I'm glad they're turning a new leaf to make themselves feel more confident about being recognized in society as a full, grown ass man. I'm pretty sure HE, is gonna get cocky af, cause that's just the way he was when they were they.

I know it's selfish of me to say, but I'm afraid of what will happen down the line years later. But that's just me being afraid. If He ends up not liking me anymore, I know it won't be the end of the world and I walked away at the right time when I did. Because this person is currently separated from me, and I'm still insecure about that part too. Not knowing how they are during this transition for what may become years or not...I hope HE is doing okay and not piercing everyone with their new, world domination, ego.

I just don't wanna imagine them get fucked by a guy....sorry that's just me. And will their buttery ass kisses, still be as sweet anymore?

Will I be ok with HE having chest hair?

Will I love the sound of their new voice or will I just hate it, while still missing the old, brodie, sexy, slightly feminine voice?

Especially when they used to go all soft and cuddly on me over the phone, it was soooo cuteeee. I miss our phone and text conversations.

Will they grow into another relationship with somebody else because they started to become unattached and unattracted to my body, my tits, my hips, my vagina even....just because they completely changed their identity?

And I still a woman? I've only thought about wearing a binder a couple of times, and yes, I do watch ftm and trans porn because I did like the fantasy of being intimate with someone who had a bigger clit size or just having a big clit of my own that felt like a dick.

I'm willing to admit that. Because let's be honest, boys get away with so much more shit as a male, compared to us females.

I wish I could grow a dick overnight and nobody not know I'm still a chick! Lol, but I still don't like the all over hair body growth and I still want my vagina back. Like a rental suit with an actual dick and no tits. Those are the onllyyyyyyyyy things I've thought about, but would never admit out loud. Only because I still like my body and my gender identity as is. I feel like the blue girl from X-Men could get away with it, cause she can be anybody she wants to and go back to being herself at the end of the day. And still camouflage behind walls. Lucky chick. Especially if she could teleport, oh he'll yeah.

It's gonna take me awhile to get over this, so please be patient with me. As I'm trying not to cry as I watch my ftm porn get fucked by a guy. Cause I used to be heavy into it, now I feel wrong for watching it and then I'm reminded "40% chance, you're watching it" 😞🤮😫

[ramenspice]

Harribel Redesign

Ok so @zanguntsu made a post that inspired/prompted me to redesign Harribel (which I’ve been meaning to do anyways since she’s Queen of Hueco Mundo and needs a new look in my fic) and I was going to reblog it and add my stuff on but then things got too long and I didn’t want to hijack the post. I’d suggest reading that to understand this. 

But it was talking about how the women of Bleach should be way more muscular and ripped and how Bad the outfits are, Harribel specifically for those dumb titty plates. All that is super true, especially for Harribel because there were way more reasons to make her ripped than not. Like a. Harribel’s design and whole motif is based off sharks who are 1,500 to 2,400 pounds of pure muscle so it would make sense to give her a compact, athletic (ripped) build like a shark, b. she also has a water/ocean theme going on so a swimmer’s build would be accurate too (strong back and shoulders, thick dorito shape upper body, muscular hips), and c. her zanpakuto in particular gets massive and requires some serious core strength and balance. But what makes me really mad about her design, Kubo could have realistically kept so much of the original design if he had just changed it a little and then we could have had BONE ARMOR. 

How cool would it be if Harribel’s mask encompassed a piece of s k e l e t o n  armor? I always thought the titty plates were apart of her mask as they extended down from the face and that’s why those hard shapes against skin wouldn’t hurt if it was done right, but that’s the thing, even if you don’t think they’re apart of her mask if the armor was done right via realistic breastplates there’d be so little movement that chafing/discomfort wouldn’t be an issue. The way it is now, she’d literally have no nipples. Chafed out of existence. Her boobs probably would’ve fallen off too from all the bouncing.

You can see how free these ladies are as the armor only serves to hold them in the natural, bra-less position while doing nothing to protect her sternum (even worse when that plating collapses and pushes into the sternum stabbing her), all because the shape points down and out from the chest. But all you have to do is change the shape to compress and lift to solve the bounce problem, and guess what, we have stuff to do that with in real life - sports bras and binders!

Make those changes and already it’s much better. Tighter than your average sports bra but slightly looser than a binder, this keeps those pesky hobondonkeros out of the way and keeps the concept of chest armor/extended mask while still emphasizing the feminine figure. Well why can’t you just do that and still define the breasts like in the original design you ask? Because that’s not what real armor does and exposes the sternum (again) which would kill you. 

Actual breastplates are designed specifically to protect the sternum, bulging out around the abdomen at one point to redirect blows and distance the area of impact from the body. Having a cavity in the center right over the sternum redirects blows inward which is understandably bad, and though there are good arguments for and against molded shapes in the breastplate around the actual breasts it’s better to go with the closer variation of what we know existed and worked. You can accommodate for breasts by simply moving that bulge up towards the chest more. 

That’s what this center piece is for, to make a point for which to redirect blows off of and protect the sternum. AND, it still fits with the whole piece because b o n e s. It’s looking better, but something’s missing... I could have sworn there was something I talked about at the beginning that Harribel should have...

OH WAIT IT’S TIER PUNCH-YOU-INTO-THE-SUN HARRIBEL AND HER RIPPLING  M U S C L E S. This is the minimum level of ripped she should be. I combined all the build types suggested by her type of activity and themes to make a thicker swimmer/fighter build, but this still isn’t quite right... There’s still one con on the list to take care of...

AnD iT IS bOnES

This plus her jacket will look fuckin’ SICK and if you take the bone stuff to not be an extension of her mask (I hc that it is as a sign that she’s stronger than the average Joe and was a Vasto Lorde), she can still more easily fit layers under the armor to improve comfort. This is a design that carries death and prestige, perfect for the Queen of Hueco Mundo. 

Now, Grimmjow gets to run around tits-out no armor and fight pretty well pre-zanpakuto release, so the same is fairly acceptable with Harribel and exposing skin pre-release. The only sexy cutouts I accept are right over her sword-shattering abs.

This was fun, I’d like to do more redesigns/changes for the women of Bleach the more I get back into my fic.

#Bleach #text #image #Harribel #Redesign #process post #This was really long #but I'm a long-winded kind of fella #I rarely get to go feral #but when I do someone gets jacked and there are bones

[starkerisendgame]

Paralytic Attraction

Dark!Tony gets fed up of waiting for his precious little bitch to be brave enough to take him. So he takes initiative and makes a little something to help speed things up. He’s nothing if not a problem solver, after all.

Trigger Warning! [Non-Con/Dub-Con, Dark!Tony, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Underage, Power Imbalance]

PLEASE heed the tags and warnings. This is very much Dark!Tony and very much non-con!

Tony was a problem-solver. A thinker. He was smart, calculated. Prided himself on his ability to provide the solution to the equation. 

He turned the device over in his hands slowly, a cat-got-the-cream smile curving his lips. Yes. He was good at overcoming challenges. And this particular challenge had evaded him for a while. Had been so tiresome. 

It had sparked his interest, at first. Called to some baser, primal instinct within himself. To chase. Earn. Claim. 

His boy. 

His gaze slid upwards, over the desk to the lone photo-frame next to his computer. He was not normally one for sentiment. For something so quaint as a photograph on his desk. Except. 

Peter looked debauched, his hair messy, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen. Stubble burn tinted the corners of his mouth and scraped a sloppy pattern down his jaw. His shirt was tugged a little off to the left. He was kneeling at Tony’s side. 

That. That was his problem. That precious, dumb little boy that spooked any time Tony tried to take what was his. 

In a laughable sort of irony, it had been Pepper and her do-no-evil sense of morality that had brought this precious, delicious piece of meat into his life. In a desperate bid to rein him in, she had organised a contest., the idea that giving Tony someone to mentor/work alongside, someone who could challenge him, someone to watch him when she could not, might change him. Force him onto the path of the right and regular. 

It had, inevitably, backfired in the most spectacular of ways. 

Rather than the winner being some middle-aged, bullheaded, mildly-successful person that would hopefully put him off doing anything untoward, the winner had been one Peter Parker. 

Freshly sixteen, barely up to Tony’s chin and as sweet as they came. He had big, round eyes that were always filled with wonder and adoration. He was lithe, enjoyed track and swimming with his friends and had been rewarded with cute little biceps and a flat, firm tummy. 

Pepper had been in the foyer, desperately trying to dissuade Peter from taking his winnings when Tony had arrived. He’d just come from a meeting, but was vaguely aware that her little contest had met it’s end. He’d been loosening his tie, ready to chew out whatever pathetic wanna-be had won when he’d stopped, gaze zeroing in on a petite figure, messy brown curls and a little binder tucked under his arm. 

And who was Tony to let such an opportunity go? 

So he had swooped in, as charming as he could ever force himself to be. Had gushed over how astounded he was over Peter winning, how delightful the boy seemed. How excited he was to mentor such a brilliant, young mind. Peter had been so easy to snatch up. All wide-eyes and stuttering over meeting his idol. Blushing furiously at each compliment. 

Roping the boy in was as easy as breathing. Tony paid careful attention to him, over the first month. Carefully tended to each little seed he planted. Would offer Peter to join him for lunch, a hand low on his back as he guided him around, did much more than the basic terms of the competition contract set as a base. 

Tony hadn’t needed long. The boy, idolising Tony though he did, had also been clearly, blatantly attracted to him. Stared each time he fiddled with his tie. Leaned into every touch. His lashes fluttered each time Tony praised him. When Tony begun to invade his space, the boy barely held himself together. 

And yet. 

For all of that, Peter had never allowed him more than kissing, more than desperate grinding until the boy was whimpering, shyly pulling away with stuttered excuses before scampering off. He was terrified, and at first, that had been downright delectable. The adorable way Peter fought against his own desires. The almost pleading way he would beg for it, only to leave Tony hard and aching, tending to himself as he thought of the boy. 

It had worn off pretty quickly. 

Tony no longer found it desirable, when the boy jerked away mid-touch, fumbling to right himself and run away. It was frustrating. And Tony so disliked anything that annoyed him, no matter how pretty. He had tried, at first. Coaxed and smiled, tried to understand. To gentle Peter into it. 

He had tried to push, only lightly. Encourage. Held Peter in place, when the boy tried to flee. But the panic in his eyes would rise, he would squirm and whimper and blabble about please don’t, I can’t and Mr. Stark we shouldn’t. 

It was a problem. One Tony had never had so much incentive to solve. And the solution had become apparent almost immediately. Had struck him early one morning, when he jerked awake from a nightmare, chest heaving and eyes wide. 

Obidiah Stane had been useful for one thing, at the least, he mused as he turned it over in his hands again, ran his thumb along the activation button. It was a refined, better version of the paralytic device that the man has used on Tony himself, a time long ago. It was a simple looking thing, he had re-designed it so. It looked like nothing more than a black tube, tapering off into a soft point. 

It was the perfect solution. Tony had considered drugs, at first. Perhaps a strong sedative. But that wouldn’t do. He wanted Peter to experience it, to remember it. To savour that first taste of what Tony could offer, so that he would come running back, begging for more. If he was unconscious, that wouldn’t happen. 

With this, Peter would get to experience everything. Tony’s mouth, his hands. The downright sinful way his soft little body would open up around his cock. This little solution simply meant he would not be able to run away this time. Would not be able to leave Tony angered and hard, denied again that tender meat he wanted to sink his teeth into. 

“Sir, Mr. Parker has arrived at your floor. Shall I allow him entry?” JARVIS’ polite voice disturbed his thoughts, and Tony lifted his head, unable to contain a smirk as he pocketed the device and arranged himself on his chair, feigning the look of a man deep in his work. 

“Let him in” he commanded, fixing his gaze to his laptop. Polite as ever, Peter knocked lightly a few moments later and waited for Tony’s permission for entering, peeking around the door as he pushed it open. Tony made a point of continuing to type, allowing only a brief glance Peter’s way. 

His boy was dressed as smartly as ever, a neat black sweater with roses lining the arms and a pair of skinny-fit jeans, as black as the sweater. Polished, neat oxfords. Around his neck hung his Stark lanyard, something he didn’t have to wear but seemed to take great pride in brandishing. 

Peter padded quietly across the room and stood before the desk, crossing his wrists in front of himself and waiting patiently. Tony let him, for a long moment, before he leaned back in his chair, tossing Peter a doting smile. Peter reacted best when Tony was gentle, soft. Though he appreciated a firm, guiding presence. 

“Are you having a good day, Peter?” He asked after a moment, fingers drifting to his tie to loosen it, before he did the same with the cuffs at his wrist. Peter’s head ducked a little, cheeks pinking and a small smile bunching his cheeks. He was spending the day with marketing, learning how Stark Industries promoted not only Tony’s Iron Man ventures, but the company’s breakthroughs. 

“Oh, Mr. Stark. It’s really interesting. I’ve done stuff with graphic development and Ms. Whitson is really knowledgeable. Thank you so much for letting me go” Peter rushed to say back, shuffling on the spot where he stood. Tony gave a gracious smile in response, standing and moving away to position himself at the large, panelled window. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, sweetheart. It pleases me when you’re happy” he murmured back, watching the bustle of city life from his fortress. An Iron Man mural had been painted on a building-side, in plain view of the Tower. It made Tony smirk a little. How would they worship him, if the knew what he was really like?

“Come here, Peter” he commanded, keeping his tone soft, but with no space for argument. Not that Peter would, because the boy immediately moved to obey, scampering across the carpet to stand a step behind his side. Tony let him look for a few seconds before taking his arm, spinning him so that his back pressed against the cold glass. Peter squeaked, but didn’t try to move away, blinking owlishly up at Tony with a shy smile. 

“I told you that you’d enjoy it, didn’t I?” He asked, lifting his gaze to the city again. Peter shifted against him, hands neatly tucked behind his back. 

“You did, Mr. Stark” Peter responded, voice prim and polite. Tony smiled, lifting his hand to run it over Peter’s soft hair as he kept his gaze up, away. The strands were silken under his touch, just the barest hint of spray. Peter used to gel his hair into style, back in his early days at Stark Industries, but a sharp, passing comment from Tony had the boy using spray. It kept his hair soft, fluffy. Easier to pull, to grab. 

“Mm, I did. I knew what you’d like, didn’t I, baby? I told you I knew you would enjoy something, you tried it, and you did enjoy it. Just like I knew you would, even if you didn’t” Tony continued, voice soft, low as he let his hand fall away to the wall, bracketing Peter. Peter made a soft sound in response and in his peripheral, Tony could see those pretty, sculpted brows pulling together a little. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” It came out as a question, but Tony allowed it, dropping his gaze down to the precious little boy. At his look, the confused frown disappeared, replaced by a small, tentative smile. 

“You trusted me to make a choice for you, mm?” Tony ignored, raising his gaze back to the bright city below. What it was about to witness, without seeing a single thing. It made Tony’s body practically ignite, the desire and anticipation curling through his insides. What this beautiful little boy was about to feel. 

“I...I guess I did, Mr. Stark” Peter replied, voice a little slow now, more unsure. The poor boy had no idea what Tony was getting at, and Tony simultaneously loved it and resented it. He was always praising his boy for being so smart. How long, before he actually figured out where this was leading? 

“Yes. You trust me to make choices about things you will like. Just...Not when it comes to your sweet little body” Tony remarked, catching the flicker of panic in Peter’s eyes and shifting, crushing Peter’s body between his own and the glass before the boy could skirt around him. Peter cried out lightly, hands coming up to grasp at Tony’s jacket. He neither pushed nor pulled, however, and Tony moved a hand, smoothing at his hair reassuringly. 

“Hush, sweetheart. Am I hurting you? No. Don’t be scared, my baby” he coaxed, running his fingers through the silky twists of Peter’s hair. The boy’s eyes remained wide, body tense, but he didn’t try to fight or run, pressing himself back against the glass to stare up Tony. “See? I could never hurt you. I could never be truly cruel to you”. Peter’s brows pulled again and he opened his mouth, the panic building again. 

Tony shifted, drew the device from his pocket before Peter could fully react and pressed in, arms pressing underneath Peter’s in a sort of hug as he touched it lightly between the boy’s shoulderblades. The reaction was instant, Peter’s body suddenly going lifeless against his own, his panicked sound half cut off as his head dropped to Tony’s shoulder. Tony smirked slowly, looking out into the glass as he simply stood for a moment, holding Peter’s helpless form upright. 

“I never said I wouldn’t be cruel at all” he murmured, ducking his head to speak lowly into Peter’s ear as he made sure the carefully turn the device off before stowing it away, shifting Peter’s weight to one arm. The boy was barely a hundred and ten soaking wet, lithe and lean like a dancer. Tony was gentle, careful as he cradled Peter’s head, stooped to sneak a hand behind his thighs and haul him up into a bridal carry. 

“I tried so hard, sweetheart. Believe me, I really did. I was patient, I let you run away each time you got scared. But you just kept running” he divulged, voice sorrowful as he turned away from the window, carrying Peter to the middle of the room where he lowered himself to one knee, ever so gently draping his boy out onto the plush carpet. He moved his hands, cradling Peter’s head so that it wouldn’t loll and those beautiful, light brown eyes bore into his own, glossy from a thick layer of tears welling to the surface. 

Tony gazed down at him for a short moment, watching in rapt attention as the tears built up until they caught on his lashes and rolled down the soft rise of Peter’s cheeks. Tony wanted to lean down, to lick them away, but he didn’t smiling softly down at the frozen form as he stroked a thumb against the soft, hairless skin of his jaw. 

“You don’t know how good it can be, baby. How special you’d feel, sinking down onto me, feeling me buried deep inside you” he hushed, pulling away to stroke Peter’s shoulder, his chest. Firm and small under his palm. “Is that why you kept spooking, my little bird? Taking off each time I tried to show you? You just didn’t know?” He asked, largely talking to himself as he moved his hand lower, over the trim little tummy. It was lax but still slim under his touch, the muscles defined, though he lacked in bulk. 

“Or maybe you do know, huh? Maybe that’s what scares you. How good it feels, having someone fucking deep into you, stretching your little body around them. Insides making room” he continued, dug his fingers against the sharp rise of Peter’s hipbone. The boy whimpered, but was powerless to move from the touch. Tony used his other hand to push the sweater up, revelling in the imprint his touch left behind. Tony had half a mind to cut the sweater off, but he actually rather liked it, and so he didn’t. 

Instead he handled the boy lightly, manoeuvred one arm behind him to lift his hips from the ground in order to ruck the sweater up to his little pecs. Peter’s body was largely unblemished, bar a little bruise at his right ribs. Perhaps he had bumped into a door? Tony pressed his thumb firmly against it, watched another little tear drip down onto the carpet. 

“Remind me about that after this, baby boy. We can get some nice, soothing cream on it for you” Tony hummed, shifted to throw a leg over Peter and straddle those slim little hips. Peter’s body felt so dainty under his own, hips sharp against his thighs. Peter’s head had tipped to the side, but his chest heaved with shaky, terrified breaths as Tony reached down, breathed in the fruity, fragrant scent of his perfume. 

Tony knows the scent off by heart. He bought it, after all. Had the box wrapped in silken, pink paper and had presented it to Peter during the time he had tried spoiling him into sex. It hadn’t given him the result he had hoped, but it was pleasant none the less to know the boy wore it each day, delighting in the gift. 

“Careful with your head, darling” Tony murmured, cradling Peter’s head as he rearranged his arms. Taking the sweater off was a little awkward in process, but Tony folded it up neatly when he was done and set it aside, leaning back against Peter’s thighs to admire him. He was all soft, pale skin and lean form. Tony wanted to bite, mark. Claim. 

“You’re so naughty, hiding this from me. I should reprimand you, but how can I, hm? When you look this good” Tony huffed, shaking his head as he reached down, pinching one little rosy nipple. Peter sniffled beneath him, a soft, weak sound rising from his throat. Tony made a gentle shushing sound, running his hands down Peter’s taut little body. 

“Don’t worry, baby boy. This isn’t about anything except showing you how good I can make you feel. Proving to you I’m right about knowing you’ll like it” he comforted, pressing at Peter’s hip once more before rising, careful not to kick the boy as he approached his desk, stowed away the device. He’d be impressed it worked perfectly first run, but then. He had built it himself. 

He picked up the little tub of lube, toyed with it as he walked back towards Peter, crouching down and using a finger to turn Peter’s head, enough he could see the pot of lube that Tony held out. Peter made a pathetic mewling sound, fresh tears clumping his lashes together. Tony tssked softly, but set the lube down and moved again, straddling Peter’s calves lightly and tracing his finger over the thin little belt at his waist. 

There was a peek of red behind the dark denim and Tony had to stop himself from just reaching out, tearing the fitting fabric. Instead he worked the buckle, watched the way Peter gazed helplessly off toward the far wall. Peter’s hips were easy to lift, Tony pulling the leather free and then gripping his waistband, yanking those slim little jeans down to Peter’s thighs. 

Peter wore tiny little red boxers, barely more than the type marketed for women. It lit something deep in Tony’s gut that coiled like an angry snake and he let out a harsh breath, dipping a finger against the soft cotton. Peter was crying openly now, breaths short and hitching as Tony traced the thin line of material. “Does this make me the big, bad wolf?” Tony asked, voice sharp as he shifted, rising to tug the tight material down further, to Peter’s knees. 

It wasn’t until he crawled off Peter, moving to unlace those polished little shoes that he noticed Peter hardly had hair anywhere. There was the thinnest, softest layer of down leading from just under his knees, but his thighs were bare, and at a glance, he was missing the typical happy-trail. Tony sucked in a sharp breath, ran his palms flat down those soft, naked little legs. 

He wasted no time in setting Peter’s shoes aside, noting the fact his boy was wearing Christmas socks of all things, before he carefully raised each leg in turn, tugging off the denim and beginning to fold the material carefully. “I’m sorry I had to do this, baby. Really, I am. I know you’re scared. If you didn’t look so edible right now, I’d feel a little guilty about it” Tony begun, voice soft and shushing as he set the fabric aside. 

“But the thing is - I don’t like to wait. I’m not a patient man, Peter, though I tried to be. You’re so sweet, so genuine, I wanted to try and wait. Help you come to the realisation, all by yourself. but you never did” his voice tinged with a little faux hurt on the end, reaching up to swiftly take off his own tie, rolling it and placing it near Peter’s clothes before he shed his jacket. This, he discarded carefully to the side, not bothering to fold it as he would be utilising it shortly. His belt followed. He eyed it for a moment, before setting it down close. 

Stripping himself is perfunctory, orderly. Peter can’t see him at this angle, so he didn’t waste time in displaying his body, their clothing in neat little piles, off to the side. When his Gucci boxers join the mix, his cock was already flushed and hard, curved up against his stomach. Tony shifted, grasped Peter’s chin with less tenderness than he had before, forcing the boy to look. A stifled little wail bubbled up in the boy’s throat, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, salting his lips. 

“Oh, baby boy. Crying is such a good look on you” Tony grinned, letting go of Peter’s jaw in order to grasp at his waistband, tugging. Peter’s ass causes as much resistance to the fabric as it did the jeans, and Tony had no shame in groping the round, firm meat to work off the little, red short-shorts. Peter’s own dick is resolutely soft, resting against the groove of his thigh. It’s slim, not as large as Tony’s, but the boy is hardly fully grown. It’s cut, like Tony’s. 

“Maybe the next time you tease me like a naughty little boy, I’ll suck that pretty little dick of yours, hm? Suck you down, make you feel good. Maybe I’ll lower myself to your place, let you cum down my throat. Would you like that?” He asked, continuing the one-sided conversation. Peter’s noise in response was desperate, pleading. Tony knew the boy wasn’t pleading for it to happen. 

“Easy now, sweetheart” he coaxed, moving to Peter’s side in order to roll the boy carefully over onto his stomach. He grasped Peter’s slender wrists and brought them up, bent comfortably at Peter’s head as though he was merely sleeping. He moved then, grasping Peter’s sweater and his own jacket and folding them carefully together, lifting Peter’s head gently to place it on the makeshift pillow. After a pause he carefully arranged Peter’s legs so his left was straight and his right was bent up at his side, exposing the delicious dip into that perky ass. Peter was as clean there as everywhere else. 

“Well, look at that, now. Such a good, pretty boy, all cleaned up and neat” he cooed, running his thumbs just down the inside of Peter’s asscheeks before he drew back, wrapping a hand around his own straining cock whilst the other reached for the lube. A few idle strokes to keep himself at optimum hardness and then he was popping the cap on the tub, dipping two fingers into the cold gel. “I’d warm it up, but. You’ve been so naughty, recently. I think you can handle a little cold, yes?” He asked, parting Peter’s cheeks and wasting no time in massaging the coolness against his skin. 

Peter’s hole was a peachy-pink, a tight little furl of muscle that made Tony’s blood sing. How fucking tight he’d be, squeezing around his cock. It was almost enough that he wanted to dive in right then, right there. Peter’s hitching sobs were musical to his ears as he rubbed firmly at the sweet little bud, body trembling just slightly. Tony praised himself once more for perfecting the paralytic device as he shifted, draping himself over Peter’s body to kiss at his shoulder as he pressed one thick, long finger forwards, felt the tight muscle resist just barely before giving in like breathing, drawing him inside. 

Peter was all warm, tight heat. Plush, velvety-soft muscle that hugged his finger as it sucked him in, parting around him willingly. The boy was as clean inside as he was out, and Tony allowed a brief moment to wonder if the boy had planned this. Well...Not exactly this, but. Something along these lines. “You feel so tight, baby. That sweet, virgin little body. Sucking me right in. You’ve been neglecting yourself, haven’t you? Your body has been desperate for this and you’ve denied it” Tony murmured, bit at the smooth muscle of Peter’s shoulder. It didn’t so much as twitch under his bite. 

He shifted, used his hips to press down on his hand as though fucking Peter, driving into the welcoming flesh to the last knuckle and pressing firmer still, so the muscle bent inwards at his touch. Peter’s hitching mewls increased and he took pity, drew back in order to begin a pulsing, steady rhythm. Peter’s body squeezed around him on each movement, a pleasant drag on skin-on-flesh that had Tony breathing a little harder, hand coming to clench as Peter’s delicate hip. “Feel that, sweetheart? How your body is taking me in? How good that feels?” He asked in a hushed tone, eyes glittering dark in the mid-day sun. 

Several more moments passed and Tony’s patience wore thin, withdrawing his finger briefly in order to dip them back into the lube. He sunk his index finger deep into that delicious space again, before he flexed his palm, pressed his middle finger against the now slick, warm ring. He tried to be gentle as he forced it in alongside the other, but Peter still let out a broken wail, sniffling against the fabric of their clothing. Tony twisted his fingers, not bothering to spread them for a moment as he searched. He knew when he found it, pressing up against a soft little nub and listening to Peter keen suddenly, high and startled. 

“See, darling? I told you, didn’t I? Doesn’t that feel so delicious, hm?” He asked, rubbed relentlessly at the nub with his index finger as he scissored the two digits, working on spreading Peter’s delicate little entrance. The muscle was tight, but there was bodily tension there as Tony worked at it, steadily coaxing the tight ring of muscle to loosen for him. The device was still in full force. “Feel the pleasure building, sweetheart. Who knows, if you’re a good, sweet little boy, I might even let you cum” He continued. 

Three fingers went as easily as two, the stretch firm and reluctant but happening nonetheless. Peter’s sounds were raspy now, weak from continuous crying. They sent shivers down Tony’s spine, so different to the sounds Peter made on their other attempts. Minutes passed and he lost his patience again, withdrawing his fingers and adding a glob of lube over the puffy, dark pink hole before slicking up his own cock. He wiped his fingers on Peter’s thigh carefully before gathering the other bundle of clothing, lifting Peter’s hips and using the wad to keep them up. He drew Peter’s bent leg down carefully, pressing his thighs together. 

In this position, Peter would be tight like a vice. His asscheeks would squeeze whatever wasn’t buried deep inside, and Tony was almost primal with the desire to fuck-break-claim. He could barely hold himself together as he knelt behind Peter’s arched body, grasped his cheeks to push his throbbing cock between them, pre-cum smearing along the unmarred skin. It occurred to him then how gorgeous Peter would look, striped with whip-marks. Another time he assured himself, pressing the large head of his cock against the slickness. Peter’s breath was hitching over sobs again, throat raw as Tony moved, held Peter’s hips tightly and pushed. 

Peter’s body gave way underneath his movements, cock sinking in slowly but surely. The muscle stretched obscenely around him, swallowing him greedily as he kept pressing. He did not stop to allow Peter to adjust, breathing out with a low groan as he sank deeper, deeper. He imagined himself sinking all the way, pushing in alongside Peter’s guts, stretching him open. Imagined the soft swell of his tummy, stuffed full. It made him snarl, body dropping down so he could crush Peter against the floor, sinking his teeth into the crook of Peter’s neck harshly. Peter was struggling to breathe through his cries now, eyes shut. 

He didn’t stop until the swell of Peter’s ass meant he couldn’t go any deeper, sunk into the tight heat, his balls flush against the curve of Peter’s own. Tony was not one for waxing poetic about his sexual endeavours. A tight, wet space was as good as any other. But Peter. Perhaps it was the lengths he had gone to. Perhaps it was the chase, or something about the boy himself. But the squeezing, soft, hot heat around Tony’s cock was almost enough make Tony change his mind on spouting lyrical. 

Jagged, broken sounds between cries and moans were ripping themselves from Peter’s throat, loud and unpermitted. Tony found himself growling in response, teeth slowly pulling from the deep divots at Peter’s shoulder. Any harder, and he might’ve drawn blood. He laved his tongue over the wound, wet and warm. Almost apologetic. He had sort of promised not to hurt the boy, after all. The suction was almost unreal, Peter’s body hugging him close, asscheeks pressed soft but firm against his balls as he relished in the feel of it. 

When the immediate wonder had sated he shifted, ran a hand reverently down Peter’s arched, trim spine as he pulled out. Peter’s body sucked at him, as though trying to keep him inside, reluctant to let him go. It tore a low, hearty groan from his chest. “Nngh, feel that, my precious boy? How your body is trying to cling to me, to keep me within? Such a good little slut. I knew you would be” he praised, pressed weight to the small of Peter’s back as he drew away enough to see Peter’s puffy little hole swell out around the bulge of his tip. His cock was shiny with the lube, coated with the warmth of Peter’s insides. 

He shifted, gripped Peter’s thighs tight together and slammed back into that welcoming depth. Below him, Peter howled into the makeshift pillow, a broken, bent sound that had Tony forcing his hips closer, grinding deeper. The velvety embrace sent shocks of pleasure through his cock, a tingling, burning build of lust. Tony adjusted their position once more, until he was bent over Peter as though they were dogs, one forearm braced at Peter’s side on the floor and the other bent over the boy’s shoulders to drive his fingers into his hair, snatching an iron grip. 

He was careful not to lift Peter’s head, unwilling to risk damage to his neck or spine. He was not as caring with the rest of Peter’s body, however, setting a brutal rhythm that jolted Peter back and forth on the plush carpet. The boy would no doubt have friction rash by the time this was done. Each brutal drive into the soft body below punched a wounded sound from Peter’s body, senseless and guttural. It was as if the boy had given up struggling and was simply taking it. Retreating until he was just dumb, forgiving meat for Tony to use. 

The idea of it had Tony fucking harder, the obscene slap of skin and wet sound of lube spurring him on. How delightful Peter would be, as nothing but a dumb, walking hole for his pleasure. Nothing but a senseless creature, desperate for his touch, for his cock. A true, mindless slut. He continued to pound the soft flesh, bruising Peter’s delicate insides as he panted against the boy’s temple, dragging his stubble along the soft skin to leave a red streak of claim in his wake. 

Desire made him restless and he pulled back once more, kneeling above Peters prone form as he brutalised the tender heat, hips snapping forwards. A gurgled mewl responded to his efforts as he gripped Peter’s asscheeks, watched the flesh grow red around his touch. What he would not give, to have Peter engage. To have the boy on his knees, bent like a bitch in heat, begging for Tony to cum deep within. He allowed a brief touch to the boy’s neck, to check his pulse, his airflow. The boy was fine, considering, sucking in air like a drowning man between sounds. 

He dropped again, lifted Peter’s hips with an arm to seek out his cock. The various angles had abused his prostate, evident in the way Peter’s sounds changed at each thrust, and despite himself, the boy was hard under his touch, small and slender in his grip. A hitching, jagged sob wrenched from Peter’s mouth at his touch and he smirked darkly into the boy’s shoulder, ducked his head lower to nip at the delicate flesh over his fragile ribs. “My good boy. Look at you, all hard and wanting for my touch again. Embrace it, sweetheart. Feel it. Let yourself enjoy it”. 

He had estimated a twenty or thirty minute time period in which the device would last. By his calculations, he was not far off, watching carefully as Peter managed to move his lips slightly, tongue catching at his teeth. Tony dug his hands in harder at the soft skin, head bowing as he fucked with renewed effort. Could not stop a moan of pleasure as he dove deep within Peter’s body, thick and stuffing him full as he pulled the pliant body back into his touch. The crash of pleasure almost rendered him useless, baring his teeth with an animalistic snarl as he came. 

The thickness flooded Peter’s body, washed over the bruised and sore flesh, painting white in its wake. He almost forgot he was gripping Peter’s cock, had only mind enough to pump him in time with the minute grind of his hips as Peter’s snug body milked him for every drop. Peter came moments after with the loudest, most wounded of sounds, like he had been punched. Hot cum dripped down his knuckles and onto the expensive carpet, liquidy and wet.

 Tony breathed harshly, slowly released his grip as he draped himself over Peter, nuzzled lightly at his cheek. In his vision, the boy’s fingers twitched against the carpet. “My beautiful sweetheart. So good for me. You made me feel so good, darling. Don’t you see it, now? Nothing to be afraid of. Everything to desire. I promised you that I would make you feel so special” he murmured sweetly, kept his weight off the boy’s abused body as he stroked carefully, gently through his hair, used his thumb to wipe at the streak of tears under his eyes. 

He had no doubt the boy would come crawling back, as soon as he was able. He was smirking once more as he pulled himself from the sweet embrace of Peter’s body, swiping a handkerchief from his pant pocket to wipe himself off, appreciatively eyeing the way that Peter’s hole stayed gaping and open, swollen and a dark red. The barest drip of cum dribbled from the brutalised entrance. 

“JARVIS. Send for my lunch. And for clean-up”. 

#Fan Fic #Starker #IronSpider #Starker Fic #Starker AU #IronSpider Fic #IronSpider AU #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Dark!Tony #Dark!Tony Stark #TW #Dark Starker #Dark IronSpider #Dark!Starker #Dark!IronSpider #Dark Starker AU #Dead Dove: Do Not Eat #Dead Dove Do Not Eat #Fanfic

[dejoyaenjoya]

Contemporary necklace by the Polish designer Pawel Kaczynski 🎯😲🔥 made with weaved silver wires that "catch" a Baltic amber, and art clay. This last element is a precious metal clay which looks and feels like ordinary sculpting or porcelain clay with fine particles of pure silver in this case, mixed with a non-toxic organic binder.

Collar contemporáneo del diseñador polaco Pawel Kaczynski 💥💣😍 realizado con hilos de plata tejidos que "atrapan" un ámbar báltico, y art clay. Este último elemento es una arcilla de metal precioso con la apariencia de arcilla de porcelana con finas particular de plata pura en este caso, mezcladas con un aglutinante orgánico no tóxico.

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