#i would like to preemptively say... this may have been my idea... but i refuse to shoulder the blame for this

[masterthespianduchovny]

I’m going to be honest: I dislike Nate right now.

And that’s perfectly fine.

I understand that this show loves to redeem people, however, as I said in another post, you can only redeem someone if there are negative feelings and/or you believe that person wronged someone or whatever. If you have positive feelings and excuse what they did, what exactly are they being redeemed for?

Despite loving Rebecca’s character, when I rewatch season one, I don’t like her at times. I dislike a lot of what she did back then. It doesn’t matter that I know she tells the truth eventually, the stuff she did was still fucked up. I’m not going to preemptively excuse her actions because I know the end goal.

Take Jamie for instance, his behavior was not okay. We know why he behaves that way, but it still wasn’t justified. We are still allowed to dislike him and what he did then. We talk about the negative effects of the bullying Nate received from the players, yet some try to excuse Nate’s bullying and his actions?

Wrong is wrong. Jamie being verbally abused by his dad didn’t justify how he treated others just like how Nate’s father (and bullying by others) is emotionally abusive doesn’t justify Nate’s behavior.

Although we understand the context, Nate IS being a fucking backstabbing asshole right now. Some may hate to hear that, but this isn’t an unfair opinion or unflattering light of him. This is exactly how he’s behaving.

There are some who has a ton of sympathy for Nate, but I’m not one of them. Please believe, I do hold some sympathy for him, but I have a limit.

So here’s reasons why Nate is on my shitlist and I’ll wait until he’s actually redeemed to forgive him.

1. Calling Rebecca a shrew. It’s not the fact that he literally called Rebecca this, but that he immediately verbally attacked the woman. We can say, “oh no, she’s the owner so he had reasons to think…”

No, Nate literally attacked Rebecca for no reason at all. She had little to no interaction with him and has never disrespected or harmed him in anyway, yet he has these intense feelings of dislike in the moment based off what exactly?

Nate attacked Rebecca because she is a woman. If you disagree, what other reason it might be? The reason I believe it was due to her gender is because she’s been defanged so to speak. So he doesn’t fear her like he used to. But Nate also practices in casual misogyny ie his shoe remark to Rebecca and Keeley. That may not seem like a big thing, but how is that an involuntary response??? With him believing he got fired, he doesn’t wait for answers, he immediately attacks her. And I had to ask myself, would he have done this with a man? With someone like Rupert? No fucking way. Nate can’t even directly challenge Ted who is a ray of sunshine, but attacks someone who he literally ran away from in fear in the pilot. Although Nate respects power, he respects male power the most. He skipped over Ted and Beard and went straight towards Rebecca. The fact that this even happened has always been disturbing to me. And Nate is fucking lucky that he hasn’t said any of his comments to old Rebecca (not age, but personality. 🥺) because she would have fired him. Only due to her relationship with Ted and him getting to let her guard down and find her old self that she frowned and shrugged Nate’s comments off. Most bosses at the very least would’ve talked to Nate and he didn’t get even that.

2. Projecting his daddy issues onto Ted. I understand that nate is going through some tough shit and has been for literally decades, however, that doesn’t mean make someone your stand in dad because they were nice and kind. Ted treats Nate like he does the other coaches, but Nate wants a special and unique relationship that will never exist. Ted is not his father and he didn’t ask for the job or the responsibilities.

I understand that people go through shit and latch onto those who made the rough times easier. I get that. However, all this animosity, scheming, and resentment because Ted isn’t giving the attention he wants. That fucking unfair to Ted. He didn’t ask or sign up to be Nate’s father figure. Yet he’s being punished for not being something he never wanted to be. Never even thought about it.

And because I’ve seen/partially experienced this shit, people getting mad at you for not being who they projected onto, it makes me upset at Nate. Because people like this really do become resentful and manipulative and that is not okay despite their own hurt that they’re dealing with. Why does the person you projected on have to suffer for something they’re unaware of and have no obligation to fulfill?

Nate isn’t just trying to blow up Ted’s professional career, he’s doing it via one of the cruelest ways: using his mental health against him. Thereby exploiting Ted’s trust in him.

Ted has literally changed Nate’s life for the better and rather than have a man to man talk with him, he cowardly tries to sabotage Ted in one of the worst ways imaginable.

3. His cognitive dissonance about how coaching works!!!

This seriously irritates me because, on some level, Nate knows that the very system he’s criticizing is how it works across ALL team sports and with reason.

He wants to be a damn head coach soooo bad—does he think ideas, plans, plays, etc only comes from head coaches???

What does he think assistants are there for?

For those who aren’t familiar with sports and coaching, literally every team sport has a head coach and then assistants under them. These assistant typically specialize in a given thing.

In American football, I believe there are like defensive coaches, strength and conditioning coaches, etc. there are coaches who watch a lot of tapes to learn the opposition and how to make plays to hold them exploit their weakness and tailor plays around that.

Like on the professional level there are so many types of coaches and, hell, not all of them want to be head coaches. Some of the greatest coaching minds aren’t head coaches.

For example, the American basketball team the Chicago bulls fired their coach Doug Collins in like 1989, I think. He was a good coach, but one of his assistant coaches had a basketball IQ out of this world. Doug refused to listen to him, but management fully supported this assistant coach. Now the other assistant coach they were grooming to take over, Phil Jackson, if you’ve heard of him, DID listen to this basketball genius. So much so that when he became head coach after Doug was fired, he continued to implement The Triangle offense that came from this basketball genius, which Phil was known for until he retired.

Nate’s upset that Ted gets all the credit for if they win, he does realize that Ted also gets all the blame for if they lose. Ted has always highlighted his coaching staff and everyone who helped him. He has always stressed that he wouldn’t be where he is without them. And when he loses, he takes full ownership. He doesn’t pass the blame at all.

Does Nate seem like someone who’d take ownership for losing?

Does Nate seem like someone, at this moment, who’d appropriately give credit to assistant or anyone else who helped him?

Would he even listen?

What makes Ted a great coach is that he gives others opportunities to step up to the plate and if/when they succeed, he allows them to shine.

Ted sees the fuller picture, for the most part, and knows how to address his weaknesses and who’s stronger than him in what area. He realized that the team needed a presence like Roy on the team. He knew he needed someone like beard who could absorb insane amounts of knowledge. He saw that Nate had potential coaching ability.

But Nate doesn’t understand the importance or value of this. He also doesn’t understand how instrumental Ted’s philosophy has been in transforming the culture of the team. That this is also a reason why the team is playing better.

So like, yeah, I’ll forgive Nate when he’s redeemed. But these three things are what really irks me about him. Just because I understand why he is acting this way doesn’t mean I have to excuse it when he’s being a dick to others, complaining about shit only due to his ego, and doing fucked up shit like leaking someone’s mental health struggles so he can gain an advantage over them.

Does he think that if Ted leaves/gets fired that he’s getting the job??? I mean hopefully whatever he has going on with Rupert works out (before it inevitably goes wrong) because this isn’t going to turn out how he thinks it will.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #Nate Shelley #I wonder if Rupert is trying to get Richmond back and has some big master plan #I do not want that to happen of course #but what is he planning #probably trying to steal Nate away #and if that’s the case #good riddance #lol #Nate can come back once he calms down and gets himself together

[dadolorian]

Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 2

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader  Warning/tags: established relationship, fluff, semi-public sex, sex against a window, P in V sex, fingering, Oral (M and F receiving) , multiple orgasms, slight over stimulation, dirty talk, choking, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie,biting/marking, possessive language, aftercare, Jacks both a gentleman and a DIRTY BASTARD, Reader is 100% into it all

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist  AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day two he takes her to see her favorite work of art. 

Tuesday  9th of February

The second morning in Rome started with an early morning makeout session, soft, gentle kisses roused you from sleep, followed by a shower and a traditional Italian breakfast delivered to your suite as the two of you sat watching people make their way to the coliseum. 

The coffee and crespelles were a perfect way to start the day, made all the more better by Jack’s large hand resting on your thigh, drawing gentle patterns with his thumb as you each sipped your mugs in comfortable silence. 

By eight thirty AM the two of you were dressed in your warm clothes and out the door, ready to partake in whatever adventure Jack had planned. 

You sat literally on the edge of your seat in excitement as you were driven around Rome to our destination for the day. Jack warmly chuckled beside you at your boundless enthusiasm, smiling wider to himself as you began snapping pictures along the way of the general beauty that was Rome. 

Once you were dropped off Jack took your hand in his, leading the way up the road and round the corner. You practically hummed in excitement beside him, bouncing in glee as the large walls of Vatican City loomed over you. 

“Jaaaacccckkkk!” you squealed delightedly, as he led you to the back of a growing queue. “Are we going where I think we’re going?” 

He chuckled at your excitement again. “Couldn't take my girl to Rome without letting her see her favorite work of art could I?” 

You bounced in place, trying to express your excitement and gratitude in any articulate way you could, you cupped his face and pulled him down for an expressive kiss on his cheek. 

“You have no idea how excited I am Jack!” You elated, almost jumping for joy beside him. 

He tried to calm you down and keep you still by resting his hands on your hips, pulling you to his front in a gentle embrace. 

“I have a fair idea Sugar,” he hummed, kissing your brow affectionately. “I remember when you mentioned wanting to visit Rome, on our New Year's trip, just a passing comment, but your eyes lit up when you mentioned the Sistine Chapel, I just knew I had to take you one day Darlin.” 

Your hands rested lightly on his chest, with your gaze cast down you smiled, tenderly remembering the brief exchange you had shared months prior. At the time you never took much note of your conversation, having forgotten all about it until Jack had surprised you with this trip, but clearly Jack had taken notice, and went through great pains to make your wish you had barely ever shared before a reality. 

You had lost count of the amount of times he proved himself of how utterly perfect he was for you was incalculable. 

He amazed you every day, outdoing himself with each little surprise or adoring words, each grand gesture or gentle peck, each casual touch or passionate kiss.

Jack Daniels, as cocky, ridiculous, and flirtatious as he was, was everything you had ever hoped for. 

“I wish I knew, just how to show my gratitude to you Jack,” you whispered softly to him.

He gently pulled your gaze back up to meet his.

 “Darlin, you don’t need to do anything other than stay with me. You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years, and that's more than enough for me.” 

Your lower lip wobbled and your eyes threatened to spill, Jack preemptively stopped your sappy tears from spilling with a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Come on Darlin, lines moving.”  

Jack walked arm in arm with you throughout the whole tour of Vatican city, your gaze was often fixed to the beautiful architecture or paintings, but everytime you glanced over at Jack, his eyes were fixed on you. You had his whole attention, not the paintings, not the tour guide, you. 

“Jack?” You asked softly, concerned he was only humoring you and didn't actually care about anything you were seeing. “Aren't you interested in all this?”

“Oh I am Darlin,” he reassured. “But I love watching the way your eyes light up, better than any painting here.” 

“You’re just trying to butter me up Cowboy,” you smiled up at him. 

“Can’t help it Sugar, pretty thing like you on my arm? Who can blame me?” 

“You flatter me Jack, You’ve been sweet talking me from the moment we met, I don't even think you would know how to stop,” you teased. 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. 

“No Darlin, I don't think I would know how to either.” 

It was impossible to express just how fantastical it felt to see some of the famous pieces found in the Vatican museum, Raphael’s ‘Transfiguration’, The statue of Laocoön and his sons, The Vision of St. Helen , Da Vinci's St. Jerome in Wilderness, masterpieces you had only ever seen photos of on the internet or in your meager collection of art History books. Completely indescribable.  But these experiences paled in comparison to seeing Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, photos could not compare to how breathtaking it was. It loomed above you, alongside dozens of other High Renaissance masterpieces, but your eyes were pulled back to that one each time. 

You imagined Michelangelo, centuries ago, in his genius, laying on his back atop the precarious scaffolding as he painted it, how grueling it was, how long it took.

You never thought you would ever see it, not in person, it had been such a fantasy to you you had never really mentioned it before until Jack had asked you those months ago.

Daddies had taken you on vacations before, trips to sunny beaches and tropical getaways, when they wanted to impress you and have you show some skin, but not once had they ever asked you where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see. 

There had been no desire to share your interests, to take you to experience culture and art over bikinis and parties. Jack had been right, you had been with some shit Daddies before you met him. 

The picturesque beaches and clear oceans may have been pretty to look at, but it couldn't hold a candle to the beauty above you.  

Standing there, with your neck strained up at the ceiling, your eyes began to water for the umpteenth time since you had landed in Italy, but you willed them away this time, focusing on the painting to burn the experience into your memory and refusing to let the tears fog your vision as emotions overwhelmed you once again. 

“Baby?” Jack’s soft voice cut in, his arms wrapped around your middle as he came up behind you, kissing your forehead. “You good?”

“Perfect, Jack,” you whispered back, giving your neck a break by resting the back of your head on him. 

“Everything you ever dreamed about?” He asked, following your gaze to the painting.

“Better,” you sighed, squeezing his arms around you. 

You clung to Jack’s arm as you made your way out of Vatican city and back to the streets of Rome. He patted your hand affectionately, placing a kiss to your temple. 

You had been so...so... moved, by Jack's surprise, by the artworks, by the experience and you knew you couldn’t express it to him. And you knew he knew.

You were beginning to understand the magnitude of his affections, he wasn’t just trying to impress you, to show off and boost his ego like many men before him. 

No, Jack's masculinity wasn’t so fragile that he had to prove himself like that, he may flash his money for you, to buy you trinkets and clothes just as they all had before, but the way he went about it was so different. 

Stuff wasn’t what he relied on to keep you with him, no, he kept you by his side by paying attention, by caring about you, for you.

He wanted to make you happy, truly, and he expected nothing from you in return apart from your companionship. 

His words from earlier in the day were really starting to strike a chord with you.

“You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years.”

You looked up at him from the corner of your eye as he led you through the streets. He seems to know where he wanted to go, and you trusted him not to get you lost. 

“Jack,” you whispered softly. “I-” 

“Don’t need to say a thing Baby,” he interrupted. “I know.” 

“But, I-” you sighed. “How?” 

“How do I know?” he asked, amused. “Baby you thank me every damn time I do something for you, no matter how big or small, I've picked up on a few things. I can tell when you’re struggling to figure out how to thank me.” 

He stopped in his tracks, guiding you to his front and pulling one of your hands up to his lips to kiss it. 

“You tear up when something specially meaningful, those are the times you can’t figure out what to say,” he cupped your face in his large, warm hands. They felt nice against the chill that had clung to your cheeks. “But you don’t need to say anything Sugar, I can tell just by lookin at’cha you’re grateful. It made you happy, that's all I wanted. I don’t need a ‘thank you’, I just need you.” 

Your lip wobbled and you pouted up at him, making him chuckle. 

“See? Just like that, and I get yer waterworks running,” he teased, thumb wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his chest playfully. 

“None of that Darlin” he laughed, ducking his head to kiss you. “My Baby gets all sappy for Daddy’s sweet words huh?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you giggled, trying to duck from him gleefully. 

“Thought you liked me ‘cocky’,” he joked as you turned and tried to walk off, pulling you back into his grip, back flush against his front. “Specially when it’s inside-” 

“Jack! People are watching!” you laughed, swatting at him over your shoulder, grateful at least your conversation wasn't too loud and probably not understood by the locals who rolled their eyes at the childish tourists as they passed. 

He laughed merrily, letting you go and gently taking your hand. 

“Such a killjoy,” he joked, leading the two of you again. “Come on then Sugar, lets get some lunch.”

Lunch  turned out to be in this adorable local cafe hidden down many sidestreets. 

Jack told him a work colleague told him about the hidden gem, unknown to most tourists, and had made a point to bring you there. 

You sat inside, safe from the bitter cold as you sipped your hot drinks and shared croissants and muffins.

Silence passes between you, as you watch from your window the small trickle of locals walk by, trudging through the remaining snow slush, on their way to wherever it was they were going.  It was a perfect way to relax after your tour, Jack told you to enjoy it while it lasted, because he had one more surprise for the day. 

Jack’s second surprise was a tour of Castel sant'angelo. 

It was originally built as a mausoleum, over the centuries it became a fortress and castle, in modern times, it had become a museum. 

“Two museum tours in one day?” You asked, humming as the two of you walked over the beautifully sculpted bridge leading up to the impressive building hand in hand. 

“Well with it being so close to the Vatican, I thought ‘Why not?’ , and I know how much my Baby appreciates her art and history,” he smiled.

Taking his words from earlier to hear, you thanked him with just a kiss on the cheek.

Jack insisted the two of you could walk back to your hotel by the time you were kicked out of the castle at closing time. 

‘Just a forty minute walk’ he promised.

You pouted at him, shaking your head no.  

“My feet are killing me Jack,” you whined. 

“Won't it be romantic though Baby?” He asked, trying to convince you.“Walking through the streets of Rome at night? Just the two of us?” 

 It did sound nice, in theory, but the sky was clouded over, your feet hurt, the ground was covered in slush and it was starting to seep into your supposedly waterproof boots. 

“My toes are going numb and it’s freezing Jack!” 

“But Baby-”

“Daddy,” you sniveled, trying to appeal to his dominant, caring role over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to block out the cold as the temperature dropped further. It was bearable in the day, sunlight and warm clothes enough to keep you reasonably warm. But you weren't dressed with the expectation of being outdoors too long, and as the snow began to fall you pulled yourself to his chest, snuggling into his warmth. 

“Please Daddy, I don't want to walk like this.” 

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, caving to his instincts to care for you. 

“Alright then, let me call a cab Honey Bee,” he relented, pulling out his phone. 

You groaned when you made your way into the hotel room, throwing the keycard on the table and collapsing by the door , tearing off your boots and letting your soaked, numb toes free. 

Jack chuckled at your dramatic behaviour, not removing any of his gear much to your confusion. 

“There’s a few more presents on the bed for you,” he smiled, heat in his eyes and flashing his canines at you as he crouched down in front of you, stroking your cheek. “Want you to go in there and put them on-” 

“Jack, my feet are too sore for any heels toni-”

“No heels, Honey Bee,” he said, his tone and use of your moniker a clear warning for you to fall in line. “You’ll like it, I promise. Now go open your presents and get dressed while I go pick up dinner.” 

He stood up as you nodded and took his hand when he offered it, helping you up and grabbing the keycard from where you discarded it.

“Be back soon Baby,” he smiled as he opened the door and left. 

Alone, you padded into the bedroom, your feet grateful for the plush carpet as you made your way over to the bed. 

Laid out across the sheets was a beautiful little pair of pink and black satin sleep shorts, a matching bralette, a cute pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers, and a long fuzzy pink gown. You ran your fingers over the material of them all, amazed at how soft they all were. 

Atop your outfit for the night was another folded up note. You picked it up carefully and opened it up, greeted by Jack’s familiar scrawl once again. 

“Day two of seven, I know your feet must be real sore today Baby, I hope a relaxing evening with Daddy makes up for it. Get dressed and go pick out a movie out in the livin room for me.  Happy Valentine’s Week Sugar,  Love Jack” 

You softened, reading his words, again as you folded the note back up and began redressing. 

The satin felt even smoother as it covered your skin, and the fuzzy robe and slippers helped warm you up after your cold trip back to your suite. 

Once dressed you wandered out into the living area,  delighted to see the couch covered in soft blankets and pillows, a gift hamper sat on the coffee table containing sweets, a bottle of wine, glasses and some foot lotion. Your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of it all and how intimately comfortable it was.

As you snuggled under one of the blankets and flicked on the TV, scrolling through movie options you heard the keycard beep and the door unlock. 

“Back Darlin!” Jack called from the entranceway , you heard him put something down and head to the bedroom. 

He joined you a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and his trademark stetson, carrying a large pizza box. 

You smiled and bit your lip, admiring his little tummy that you loved so much.

He placed the box on the coffee table and snuggled under the blanket with you. 

“Pick something out Baby?” He asked, one arm over the back of the couch and other hand wandering up your thigh under your robe and resting there. 

“I think so,” you hummed, relaxing back into his embrace and warmth, head resting on his shoulder. “Sci-Fi movie by the looks of it.” 

“Prospect?” Jack questioned. “Don’t usually sound like our kinda thing Darlin.” 

“Yeah, but one of the actors caught my eye in the preview clips,” you giggled. “He looks like you Daddy.” 

He quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you a shrug, letting you click play as he pulled the pizza and wine over for you to share. 

You almost choked on your pizza when the actor showed up and Jack exclaimed in annoyance that he looked nothing like him. 

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “He could be your twin!” 

“I know for a fact my Mamma only gave birth to one Daniels boy thank you very much!” He proclaimed. 

You giggled hysterically, curling into him, trying not to knock the pizza box onto the floor. 

“He’s just you with more scruff!” You gasped for breath between your laughter. “Listen to him he’s even got a southern accent too!” 

“I resent being compared to a scruffy, sweaty, bastard space man who talks so damn weird Darlin!” 

You covered your mouth, biting back a sassy comment about the ‘talks weird’ comment and tried to compose yourself. 

“How can you not see it?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “The similarities are scary.”

The two of you eventually agreed to disagree as you finished your pizza and wine and moved on to a few after dinner chocolates from the hamper. 

Jack rubbed your feet with the lotion as you lay on the couch sideways, easing the tension and soreness from your feet in his lap as the movie went on. You melted to his touch, unwinding from the long day on your feet. 

You had taken quite a liking to the southern spaceman with the silver tongue, much to Jack's growing annoyance, he grumbled as you cooed at the man on screen.

But as irritated as he was, he pulled you to his side in comfort as you watched your little crush have his arm amputated, hiding your face in Jack’s chest throughout the difficult scene. 

“Poor Ezra,” you murmured when the scene was over. 

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed the crown of your head. “I don’t know what you see in him Darlin.” 

“He’s your scoundrel, space-cowboy twin Jack. What’s not to like?” 

“Think you need your eyes checked Darlin. I might actually be bothered ‘bout your little infatuation if you didn’t insist so damn hard that he looked like me.” 

You giggled and settled down again against his bare chest.

“Hmm...”

“What are you hmming about over there?”

“You’d look good with a little blonde patch.”

“Shut up.”

When the credits rolled Jack switched off the TV, shrouding the room in darkness and stood up, gently pulling you up to your feet beside him. You were tired after such a long day, and the movie and snuggles afterwards only made you more tired.

He rested his hands on your hips and gave you a tender, soft kiss. 

“You like your new jammies Baby?” He asked, smiling when you nodded. “Yeah? You look so dang cute in them.” 

He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Is my Baby too tired tonight? Or do you want to have some playtime with Daddy before bed?”

You whined in response, resting your hands on his chest. 

“I always want to play with you Daddy.” 

“Oh I know you do Baby, but Daddy thinks you need your rest. Bed time for you I think.” 

“I don’t want to go to bed Daddy.” 

“Think you’re awake enough for it Honey Bee?” he asked, gently shoving your new robe off of your shoulders and onto the floor. 

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“Prove it,” he rasped, firmly pushing you to your knees in front of the couch and pulling his sweats down enough for his balls and hardening cock to hook over them. 

You licked your lips and looked up at him, taking him in your hand at the base. His eyes burned into yours as you opened your mouth and began kitten licking at his tip, circling your tongue around him.

You kissed him, from base to tip, worshipping his cock. 

He moaned at your teasing little touches and you felt him twitch in your hand, hardening slowly under your touch. 

‘That's it Baby, Get Daddy nice and hard,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to lose himself to the feeling of you coaxing his cock.

You felt the crotch of your sleep shorts become wet, aroused by his raspy voice and lewd moans. But you kept your hands where they were, on his thigh and cock, knowing if you touched yourself without permission his ‘playtime’ with you would become a (delicious) punishment. 

You relaxed your jaw and took him into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his length as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

He let out a loud guttural moan, hands cupping your head to keep you in place. 

“Hmmmmm fuck Baby!” He spat, looking back down at you and gently thrusting his hips into your face, careful not to choke you. “You’ve gotten so good at that! Can take me so well now can’t cha? Almost all the way!” 

He rocked into you slowly, now fully erect in your mouth, you concentrated on breathing through your nose as he pushed himself deeper with each thrust. 

You had succeeded in taking him easier than when you first had gotten together, but it was still a struggle to truly deepthroat him and supress your gag reflex, so far you had never managed to take him all in before you backed out. You kept your hand on his thigh, ready to tap out when needed. 

Your eyes never left his face, and his never left your lips, watching as inch by inch his cock went further into your mouth. 

“Breathe Baby,” he encouraged, hungrily watching his spit covered cock push and pull in and out of you. “If you can take me all the way in tonight Baby, I’ll give you a big reward.” 

You mewled around him, excited by his promise of a reward. He always delivered on those promises in a spectacular way. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best you could, successfully taking him further, your jaw hurt and your throat protested as he pushed in even deeper. 

Your eyes watered as your lips finally met the groomed hair at his base. You blinked up at him, waiting for approval and praise for having taken him all the way for the first time triumphantly.

“Hnnng! Fuck! Good girl! Good Girl!” he panted, watching you, transfixed on the way his cock looked shoved all the way down your throat. “Perfect, warm wet little mouth fuck!” 

He reached down cautiously, fingers tracing over your neck gently, feeling the bulge in your throat. You whined, feeling light headed as he gripped your neck and squeezed lightly, he gave an experimental thrust, even with the awkward angle and groaned at the feeling of his own hand squeezing your throat tighter around him. 

“Oh fuck Honey Bee I’m so deep,” he moaned, squeezing tighter, making you more light headed. “Doin such a good job, you need to tap out Sugar?” 

You shook your head no as best you could, head swimming and body buzzing as he chokes you with his hand and cock. 

“Can feel my fat cock moving inside you Baby, so damn hot, making me even fucking harder.” 

He kept thrusting into your throat slowly, careful to not actually choke you. You were getting a little high from the lack of oxygen, far more aroused by it than you ever thought you could be. You only tapped out when black dots started to swim in your vision. 

Jack pulled free without hesitation, crouching in front of you to check you were alright as the obstruction in your throat was gone and your lungs heaved in oxygen. 

You gulped down air hungrily as Jack kissed your face in praise. 

 “Did so well baby, so proud of you, you took me all the way,” he murmured, nose nuzzling along your hairline. He waited for you to be ready to continue , and when your breathing had calmed and you gave him a nod to continue, he kissed your forehead, stood up and pulled you to your feet with him. 

“As promised, my little girl deserves her reward,” he growled, nodding over to an armchair by the sliding door. “Go sit,” he ordered softly. 

You scrambled to comply, anticipating your reward with glee. 

He sauntered over, discarding his stetson on the coffee table before kneeling down in front of you, hooking his fingers into your sleep shorts. 

“Up,” he gently instructed, pulling them down your legs as you lifted your hips for him.

He brought the shorts up to his face and inhaled your scent, licking up the crotch of them to taste the juices that soaked them. 

“My baby tastes so good,” he praised, discarding the shorts over his shoulder. “Spread ‘em wide for me Sugar,” he said, gently coaxing your leg apart and licking his lips. 

He didn’t tease, intent on giving you your much deserved reward as he drank you down and shoved his tongue deep into your dripping hole. 

Your back arched, eyes closed and thighs shook, he pulled them over his shoulders to give himself more room, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs to hold them still.

You whimpered in delight, gripping his hair and pulling him deeper, his eyes cut up at you, letting you know that at any other time, an action would not be tolerated, and he would have you reprimanded for being greedy. 

But this was your reward, you deserved it. 

Jack did not hide his messy noises as he ate you out like a man starved, wet smacks of his lips on your lower lips, the sound of his skin coming into contact with your dripping thighs, his moans and your sounds of pleasure filled the room. 

You gasped when you felt a thick finger prod at your hole, pushing up into you beside his tongue. Your head snapped down to watch as he slowly pumped his finger into you, his tongue began lapping up your folds until he reached your clit, suckling on it gently. 

“Daddy!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up further into his face. 

He gave you a cocky grin as a second finger joined the first, stretching you out so perfectly, his fingers were so much thicker than yours, fuck you loved his fingers so much, and he knew just where to stroke to make your body sing. In such a short time he had learnt your body better than you ever had. 

“My Baby wants to cum?” He asked, running his tongue over your folds again. 

“Yes, please Daddy,” you pleaded. 

“Daddy prefers when you’re patient Baby. But you earned it tonight,” he growled, standing up with his fingers still inside you. Your legs dropped from his shoulders as he leant over you to nibble at your ear, you felt your juices that still coating his jaw as his skin met yours.

He abandoned his slow pumps of his hand, fucking you hard and fast with his skilled fingers. You keened under him, writhing at the sudden change. 

“Look outside that window Baby,” he ordered in your ear hotly. “There's still people out and about, all they have to do is look up here, and they’d see you getting fucked by my hand.” 

You felt your core clench around his fingers at his words, a wave of your arousal flooding out, soaking his hand. 

“You like that idea Sugar? You like the idea of some stranger seeing my fingers buried in this pussy?”

You whimpered and tried to thrust up into his hand. 

“Answer the question!” He growled.

“Y-Yes Daddy!” You cried, panting hard as you felt your pleasure building. 

“Yeah? You get off on the idea of someone else seeing you? Seeing what’s mine?”

He sucked a mark into your neck, hoping it would show tomorrow, his secret little claim. 

“Want everyone to see you? Like some kind of common whore? You’re mine Baby, don’t you forget that.” 

“T-that's what i want them to see!” You whined, racing towards the edge, hoping he wouldn’t deny you as he often did to tease. “I want them to see who-who I belong to!”

He growled in approval. 

“Yeah? What else Baby?” He asked, encouraging your line of thought. 

“W-want them to see...That you’re- you’re the only one who can make me cum, that you’re the only one good enough!” 

“Oh Baby you sure know what to say to stroke your Daddy’s ego,” he hummed in pride. “Go on then, show them, show anyone watching how hard Daddy makes you cum.” 

You were already well on your way to your pleasure when he gave you permission to cum, but he helped you along by diving down and sucking hard on your clit. 

Your back arched further as you screamed out his name, your walls clenching hard over his furious fingers, as they attacked that sweet deep spot inside you on a mission. 

It hurt how powerful your orgasm was, how hard his fingers fucked you through it. And as it washed over you you were ready for him to pull out, for him to let you come down from your high, but his fingers did not slow. 

You mewled, sensitive and sore from your first orgasm as you felt him forcing your body towards a second one already. 

“D-Daddy, too- too much!” You whined, wriggling in his grasp. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his teasing tone told you he didn’t believe you, he moved his head away from your clit to look you in the eyes, speeding up his fingers. “What’s your color then?”

Your hips began thrusting up to meet his hand again. 

“Color Baby?” He reminded. 

“Green,” bucking up hard now into his hand to chase your fast approaching second high. 

“Thought so,” he hummed, taking your nipple into his mouth through your bralette, gently sucking on it and tugging it with his teeth. 

When he had soaked the fabric and thoroughly teased you he released it.

“You’re going to cum again for me, that's your reward. Daddys going to make you cum so hard your pretty little pussy will be ruined tomorrow.” 

You sobbed under him, anticipating how tantalizingly sore you would be with great delight. 

“Come on, be a good little girl for me and cum,” he cooed, grabbing your jaw with his free hand to make you look at him, his face only inches away from yours. 

“Cum for Daddy, and I’ll fuck you right up against that window for everyone to watch.” 

Your stomach flipped at the thought and your core tightened around his fingers again. 

“If it weren't so damn cold out there I’d fuck you right on that balcony, so the whole of Rome can hear your screams for me.” 

He brushed your clit with his thumb as the words fell from his mouth, pushing you over the edge for a second time. 

“That's it Baby, cum for Daddy,” he cooed softly, lips ghosting yours. “Squeezing my fingers so tight. Can't wait till my cocks all snug up in there, my favorite, perfect little hole.” 

His words made your second orgasm just as powerful as the first, you shook hard in your chair and screamed loudly until your voice was hoarse. You tried to muffle the scream with your hands which, until now,  had been gripping the armrest for dear life ever since Jack removed himself from between your legs. 

He was having none of that however, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pulling them away from your face to hear your screams of pleasure. 

He coaxed your orgasm as long as he could, slowing his fingers but still thrusting them hard inside you. Dragging it out.

You shook from the aftershocks each time his fingers shoved up against your cervix, whimpering as your breathing struggled to return to normal and body tried to unwind. 

He pulled his fingers free from you, loving how your pussy tried to suck them back inside. You mewled at the loss despite how oversensitive you were. 

He held up his hand to inspect it, proudly displaying how drenched it was in your cum. 

“Look at that Baby, down past the wrist...You horny little thing,” he rasped, letting you watch as he wrapped his slick coated hand around his neglected cock, pumping it slowly, you could hear the wet pass of his hand with each pump.

“Stand up,” he ordered gently, not helping you as you stood up on shaky legs, struggling to comply as your legs threatened to give out underneath you.  

“Top needs to go too Honey Bee,” he instructed, watching you with predatory eyes as you raised your arms, taking the sexy little Bralette off and discarding it somewhere behind you. 

“Up against the window, arms up.” 

You wobbled over slowly, sighing as your body touched the cool glass. 

You felt so exposed up against the glass, despite the fact there was no one currently walking about outside, and there was no light in the living area now that the TV was off,  the only light source being the lights outside, lighting up the coliseum. 

You could see Jack's reflection in the glass as he came up behind you, stepping out of his sweats. You could hear him still pumping his cock with you slick.

Your back arched as he ran the tip of his cock over your dripping folds, making you gasp and shudder.

“Poor Baby, still so sensitive,” he teased, pushing you against the cold glass with his free hand, making your nipples tighten painfully at the chill. You wriggled slightly as he pushed his hips forward, tip entering your hole. 

“Shhhh Baby, Daddy needs his fair share too, needs to fuck your pussy,” he sighed, your tight wet heat slowly enveloped him as he slowly inched his hips forward. 

“Need to make you cum. One last time.” He emphasized the statement by snapping his hips forwards, filling you up completely as his hips slapped up against your ass. 

He gave your oversensetive body only a moment to adjust to the stretch before wrapping an arm around you and fucking into you hard and fast. His free arm grasped your neck, lightly choking you again as his cock hammered into you.

“Fuck, so wet baby. Your cums soaking me, dripping down Daddys balls,” he rasped into your ear.

Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap, filled the room as you were shoved up against the glass with each thrust. 

You cried at the delicious stretch, at how he made your tender, sore hole buzz with pleasure every time he shoved himself inside,  at how your body stung from the cold glass, and at the filth he rambled into your ear. 

“My perfect pussy, Daddy’s pretty little princess. Think about how anyone could walk past. Could see you,” he teased, turning you on more. “Stuffed full of my cock, wouldn’t be hard, this low down, just need to turn their head a lil bit, ‘s all it would take to see you.” 

You moaned at his words, tightening around him. 

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight,” he whispered in awe,thrusting harder into you. 

You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the delirium of being fucked by him, trying hard not to cum around him until he gave you permission. 

He didn’t like it when you came without his permission.

He chuckled darkly into your ear, slowing his thrusts down to teasing rolls of the hips. “There's someone now,” he rasped, watching someone walk by further down the street, you cracked your eyes open and could see just how close they were, close enough that if you called out with the window open, they would hear. 

“I don’t think they’ve spotted us. Let’s see if we can change that shall we?” He suggested with another dark laugh, letting go of your neck to grip your hips with both hands, making it much easier to thrust inside you and leaving nothing to silence your noises as he slammed into you again with the same speed as before. 

You shrieked, watching with wide eyes at the passer by, hoping he did not hear.

It was annoying just how arousing the idea of this stranger catching the two of you was. 

Before you could even stop yourself, you came around Jack’s cock without warning. No build up, no tensing, it hit you so suddenly you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you had tried. 

He growled angrily behind you, pausing his thrusts as you squeezed him hard, as your walls fluttered and tried to milk his cock. 

 There was no way you could hide what you just did, it may have snuck up on you fast but he felt it. Felt you squeeze him and shake in his grasp. 

“Did you just fucking cum Baby?” He snarled. “Without Daddy’s permission?” 

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, it happened so fast!” 

“You got off  to the thought of some stranger seeing you, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered pathetically, not wanting to anger him further by lying to him.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he berated, rocking back into you. “If Daddy didn’t need to cum so bad I'd punish you right now. Throw you over my knee and remind you that Daddy owns your orgasms.” 

“I know Daddy! I’m sorry! So sorry!” 

“I believe you Baby, but that don't change the rules. Doesn’t mean you get away without some sort of punishment.” He licked the shell of your ear, nibbling at you lightly. 

“Tomorrow night, I really will destroy your pussy. I’ll hold you down and fuck you so hard, till you cum so many times you pass out, never letting up until you’re beggin me to. Daddy will choose how many times you cum, when you cum, and how hard you cum, to remind you your pleasure belongs to me.” 

You sniveled, panting as your breath fogged up the glass.

“Y-Yes Daddy,” you agreed. 

“Now stay still, Daddy gonna fill you up, get you nice and creamy.”

His rocks built back up to the harsh thrusts, reserving no gentleness for you as his grip would no doubt leave bruises on your hips the next day. 

He growls, the steady slap of his thrusts, bumping of glass and the blood rushing in your ear was all you could hear. 

And even though you had already cum three times, you could feel a fourth bubbling deep inside, warming you up. 

He pounded you against the glass. 

He cursed as his thrusts became frenzied, violent bucks up against your ass as he chased his release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it comes!” He bellowed, digging his teeth into your shoulder and marking you hard. He groaned against your skin as his hot cum flooded you. You felt it fill you and warm you up, even if he didn’t let you cum again, you adored the sensation of him filling you up each time.

His thrusts slowed as you felt his seed begin to leak out around his length. 

You mewled at the loss of the orgasm you knew he wouldn’t have given you anyway. 

He pulled out slowly, releasing your shoulder and watching as his softening length fell from you. 

Your knees buckled, but Jack was quick to catch you before you fell and scoop you up into his arms. 

“There we go Baby,” he murmured, gently nosing at your temple. “Let's get you sorted.”

As usual Jack’s aftercare consisted of his soft praises as he tended to your physical needs. 

He washed you, tended to your marks, dressed you back into your new pajamas, and tucked you into bed. You drifted in and out of his care, only catching a few words here and there.  

“Good girl”, “Did so well,” and “So proud,” were the familiar praises you heard.

 He joined you under the warm blankets when he decided you had been thoroughly cared for, pulling you close to his chest to snuggle and murmur affections at you. You nuzzled deeper into his warmth, completely boneless and spent, listening to the gentle timbre of his voice as you drifted off. 

That night you dream about old castles and handsome southern princes.

credit to @talesfromtheguild​ for this little bit

“Hmm...” “What are you hmming about over there?” “You’d look good with a little blonde patch.” “Shut up.”

Tag list:

@thats-one-tender-foot​  @luminescentlily​ @nuttybeardetective​ @ishqinbbc​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @calamity-queen​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @talesfromtheguild​ @the-arctic-violet​  @jeeperky​ @mando-amando​

#SugarDaddy!Whiskey #7dov #DIamonds&Daddies #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #my fic #thots #smut

[mythrilhusk]

Despite Everything - Chapter 2

NOT RPF (Ao3 link) Words - 2,243 Last Chapter

Next Chapter

CW: violence, imprisonment, inhumane treatment

"You see, Quackity, the idea is to not get caught." Technoblade whets his battle axe with firm, lazy strokes as he leans on a blackstone pillar. 

Quackity laughs nervously and reaches for his sword. "I, uh, didn't see you there, Techno." His six pairs of wings flutter and ruffle, barely hidden behind his crude glamour. 

"K." 

"You're not going to stop me." Quackity gathers his courage-- a contradiction considering he's literally the Angel of Fear-- and steps forward, sword ready. 

Technoblade, Angel of Wrath, strikes a terrifying figure as he steps into the glow of Jupiter shining through the windows. "You sure?" The gold-sheathed tusks glint as a grin crosses Techno's bristly muzzle. His two massive wings rustle behind his back, flaring menacingly. 

Quackity gulps and points a furious finger at Techno. "You- you fucking took the last biscuit, but I won't let you get away with it, Technoblade, I will have my revenge!" 

Technoblade splutters, then laughs. "That's the best you can come up with??" 

"I'm under pressure, here!" Quackity blushes angrily. "Just let me beat you already!" 

"High hopes for a man who just claimed revenge for a biscuit." Technoblade chuckles. "But alright, let's see if you've improved since the last time I handed your ass to you." 

Quackity drops his glamour. Technoblade flinches back from the blazing light of Quackity's multi-winged amorphousness. "Ha!" Quackity slams his sword down at Technoblade's arm. 

Techno's axe deflects the sword and his fist slams into Quackity, knocking the Angel against the wall. Quackity heaves instinctively to regain his breath, despite not needing air. Techno roars and leaps at him with his axe upraised. 

Yelping, Quackity rolls out of the way. The axe slams into the floor, and Techno rips it out before stalking once more for Quackity. "The fuck, man, are you trying to kill me??" 

"Treat every fight as a life-or-death situation." Technoblade intones. 

Quackity reaches for his sword, which leaps into his hand. He deflects Techno's next swing, then ducks under the axe and slashes for Techno's ribs. "Eat shit, motherfucker!" 

Techno doesn't even falter as the sword slices through his shirt, doesn't even flinch as blood wells from the gash. Roaring, he knocks Quackity's sword from his hands and lashes the axe across his form. 

"Stop, stop, haha, stop, wait!" Quackity cowers, retreating behind his glamour, wincing as his form regenerates the deep wound.

Technoblade slips the axe into the sheathe by his side and raises his clawed hands to show he's unarmed. He shifts down to his smaller, less intimidating form. "You fool." He chuckles with light mockery. "Train for another hundred years, then we'll see." 

"You damn bastard, you never let me win." 

"Let you win?? Why would I do that??" Technoblade guffaws. "Let you win. Wilbur, you hearing this?" 

Wilbur emerges from the ceiling. The Angel of Deceit's figure never settles on one form, glittering and glitching as he morphs continuously. "I heard." He says, grinning down at Quackity. "I bet I could beat you, Technoblade." 

"Really? Wanna test that?" Technoblade reaches for his axe, baring his teeth with excitement for battle. 

"Nah, not right now. I'm still asleep." Wilbur drops to the floor. 

"Hey, boys." Philza's voice filters through the sparring room. 

"Philza!" Technoblade cries joyfully, bounding to give the old man a big hug. 

"I heard that, you little shit." Philza snaps. "I'm not fucking old."

Quackity stomps his foot, laughing nervously. "I didn't think anything, you didn't hear anything, fuck, I'm sorry!" 

"You better be." 

"What's up, Philza?" Wilbur grins eerily. His grins always manage to be eery somehow, even in the more attractive forms he occasionally wears. 

"I just got a message. Someone's got a new job for the Pax Triumvirs." 

"Pog~," Technoblade hums. 

"What is it?" Quackity steps forward, taking the proffered scroll from Philza. He looks into the holographic screen. "The Lucid Spider? Who the fuck is he??" 

"Dunno. But the job seems fun enough. Techno, you'll like this one." 

"Oh? Oh?" Technoblade grunts, doing a little shuffly dance of excitement. "Are we blowing up another government?" 

"Seems like." Philza takes his scroll back from Quackity. "This Chiaroscuro Emperor has been gettin' a little too cozy, anyway. It's about time we stirred up some bees in his bonnet." 

"Who the fuck is the Lucid Spider, though??" Quackity cries. "Can we trust him to pay us?? How much are we getting paid, anyway?" 

"Quackity, money is merely material, while destruction of enforced hierarchies is spiritual." Technoblade hums. Wilbur tries to fistbump him, but his hands turn into lobster claws and Techno refuses to notice, so Wilbur sags, feigning dejection.

Quackity sneers. "That's bullshit, Techno-" The chrysaor reaches for his axe. "Ahaha, I'm joking, I'm joking, please don't punt me!" 

Technoblade keeps one hand rested on his axe just to spite Quackity. "Phil, he's got a point. Who is this Lucid Spider fellow?" 

"I dunno, mate. But he's paid half a billion up front, an' promised the rest when the job's done, so I think we're all cool." 

"Alright, alright. That sound good to you, Quackity?" Technoblade cocks his head, his ears pricking hopefully. "You're the money-guy." 

"You shoulda told him a trillion up front, and two trillion when the job's done. One fucking billion is pauper-speak." Quackity scoffs. "We need supplies and shit for the coup, we can't just summon food and allies out of thin air." 

"True, true. Philza?" Technoblade only ever yields to Quackity's expertise when money matters are concerned. In all other fields, he or Philza takes the lead. Quackity enjoys being the technical treasurer of the Pax Triumvirs, but he wishes he had slightly more control over the missions they went on. 

"Eh, I'll let'im know." Philza shrugs, then winks at Quackity. "Beat Techno once and maybe we'll talk about letting you lead a mission, kid." His forest-green cape billows behind him as he spins to leave the sparring room. 

Quackity laughs, preemptively nervous, and backs into a pillar. "Technoblade, don't get the wrong fucking idea, man."

"K." Techno's eyes gleam with amusement. "You want to try?" 

"I could beat you with my eyes closed." Quackity scoffs. "I don't need to try, I already know I could, I- I just want to spare your dignity!" 

Techno keeps giving him that damn sadistically amused look. "K." 

"I'll fight you, Quackity." Wilbur pipes up, still grinning. "I don't have any dignity to spare." 

"Nah, I'm actually really fucking tired right now, so maybe later, ahaha, or never, seeya losers!" Quackity hastily camouflages and flees from the sparring room. 

He's still not used to this, even after three years. He's not used to sharing a literal underground mansion with literal terrorists, much less being dragged into commiting acts of minor terrorism himself. He's not accustomed to the casual violence, the utter apathy towards other lives, the reckless attitude towards death. 

He plops down on a beanbag in his room and stares at his shaking hands. "If I had a choice," He wonders aloud. If he had been given a choice, would he have taken the cleaner, less bloody route? 

But the gods don't allow their Angels to choose. Theirs is not to question why, theirs is but to do and die. 

++++

Ponk paces restlessly, fire flickering in his eyes and hands. Hannah Rose watches him from her corner, cold tears dripping down the steel muzzle over her jaws. The two captives have only each other. The passage of time is lost in the silence. 

Rose raises her head as the massive door outside their cell slides open with the blaring of an alarm. She glowers silently at the Scythes, who enter before the Chiaroscuro Emperor. 

"Well!" Emperor Schlatt claps his hands together cheerfully. "Well, well, well." The forcefield is all that stands between the prisoners and their captor. 

"Fuck you, man." Ponk snarls. "Let us go." 

"Hm, lemme think about that. How about no." Schlatt shrugs, grinning. "You little fucks think you can cross me, eh? Around here, my word is law." 

The three Scythes step forward in unison. Schlatt leans against the wall. "You ready to talk nicely, Rose, or do we need to keep you silenced?" 

Rose scowls at him. Her hands are chained to the wall, so she can't even respond with a crude gesture. Ponk kicks the forcefield, then yelps as it disappears. He backs away from the Scythes stalking towards him. 

Scythe Ranboo approaches Rose. His green eye narrows, hard and cold, the pupil constricted to a mere slit. The red cybernetic implant of his other eye whirls and spins in its socket, trying to see everything at once. The black and white metal exo-jaws keep his mouth clamped shut. Rose almost feels bad for the Scythes. They're not allowed to speak either, muzzled like dangerous dogs, like herself. 

Ranboo removes Rose's muzzle and she works her sore jaws. "Thank you." She murmurs. If she can get even one of the Scythes to sympathize with her, she and Ponk may have a fighting chance of escape. Ranboo replies with the slightest of nods, then retreats back to Schlatt. 

In the meantime, Scythes Tubbo and Tommy have cornered Ponk as Schlatt interrogates him. "I don't know what you mean!" Ponk cries, cowering. "I don't know where the heart is!"

Schlatt turns to Rose. "Hey, bitch, you want to help your buddy out?" 

"I'll tell you fuck-all." Rose snarls. 

"Heh, okay. Guess I have no use for either of you, then. Tubbo?" Schlatt turns to his Scythes. Tubbo removes two painfully familiar phylacteries from his suit pocket, handing them both to Schlatt.

"No!" Ponk cries. "You can't- please don't, man, I really honestly don't know what you want!" 

"I want the Cosmos Heart!" Schlatt bellows. "And I'm going to get it!" 

"You motherfuckers don't know what you're playing with!" Ponk snarls right back. At a gesture from Schlatt, Tommy slams Ponk into the wall. 

"Hannah Rose?" Schlatt turns to Rose. Ranboo stalks towards her. "Sing for us, birdie, or your little fuckbuddy here dies first." Schlatt dangles Ponk's phylactery on his finger. 

Several colorful curses leap to Rose's tongue, but she restrains herself, trying to meet the predicament with a clear head. "I'll tell you." She growls. "If you give those back and free us." 

"What, do I look like a cruel person to you?" Schlatt laughs. "Tell me and I'll do you one better! I'll hire both of you!" 

Rose shoots Ponk a warning glance. He can't continue to defy Schlatt, or they'll both die. She answers, "Fine. The Cosmos Heart can be found in the Unity of the Dragons." 

Schlatt laughs. "What's that supposed to even fucking mean?"

"The Spirits. Find them, unify them, and their powers combined will form what you desire." 

"Alright. I'm a man of my word. Ranboo, escort Hannah Rose to the Butterfly suite." 

"Let Ponk go, too." Rose demands. 

"Sweetie, I don't have any reason to let either of you go. I could kill you both and not lose anything, right now. But I'm being nice, here." 

"Please." Tears well in Rose's eyes as her lip trembles and her breath catches on feigned sobs. "I can't lose him, too." 

"Aww, c'mon, sweetheart. Alright, alright, fine, don't cry, he can share the suite with you. But I'm keeping these." Schlatt hands one phylactery to Ranboo, and the other to Tommy. 

"Thank you," Rose keeps up the act, sobbing almost for real out of relief. 

Ranboo leads Ponk and Rose through the vast space-castle in silence. Ponk is unusually quiet, glaring down at his grimy boots as he stomps on the clean tiles. Rose stares out of the portal windows they pass, watching the stars. 

"Now I have three souls I can't lose." Ranboo mutters. Rose glances up at him, noting that the exo-jaw has loosened its hold to allow him speech. His eyes drop to her forehead, avoiding her eyes as he always has, and he smiles weakly. "Nevermind." 

"Can I have mine, please?" Rose dares to ask. 

"I- I can't, Schlatt would be so furious if I did, I'm sorry." Ranboo shakes his head hastily. "I'm supposed to obey him." 

Rose gives him a pitying smile. "Please keep my soul safe, then." 

"I'll do my best." Ranboo replies. He stops by a hatch and taps the ID pad with a finger. "Here you go. Butterfly Suite." 

The hatch flowers open to a spartan set of rooms. Rose enters the cold space and sighs, longing for her tapestries and carpets. "Can I decorate it?" 

"Uh, you can ask Schlatt, or whoever he puts in charge of you guys." Ranboo deflects nervously. 

Rose nods to him. "Thank you, Ranboo." 

"Oh. I- oh. Please don't thank me." Ranboo backs out of the room. "Someone will come with food later." 

"Thank you." She repeats with an innocent smile. Ranboo retreats. The hatch closes and locks behind him. Her smile falls into bitter hatred. "Damn them!" She snarls and kicks the wall. "Damn them all to the pits of Tartarus!!"

Ponk drops onto the only seating present, a wooden bench. "Why'd you tell them?" He sounds lost, broken.

  "I couldn't let you die, Ponk! I can't fucking live with that, not even for a few moments!!" Rose paces the main room, then inspects the offshoots. Two bedrooms, a bathroom with a luxuriously deep tub, and a kitchen. Not bad, and certainly a step up from the cell. But they're still trapped here. 

Hannah Rose hates being trapped. 

Next Chapter

#imprisonment cw #violence cw #technoblade #quackity #wilbur soot #philza #hannahxxrose #ponk #ranboo #tubbo #tommyinnit #jschlatt #dream smp au #magical girl au #magical warrior au #dream smp #not rpf #rainbow arson

[hannigramficrecs]

A/B/O

Preemptive by HigherMagic [words: 5,023]

"Does it bring you pleasure, to keep this anonymous?" he asks. "Does it thrill you, that you don't know me, and I don't know you?"

By Fire, By Thunder by HotMolasses [words: 13,442]

Hannibal and Will are both sent to the same camp for the summer, where they meet and romance blossoms. Then it turns serious. Then they share something much deeper and darker than normal teenagers, and it leads them into the storm that is each other.

Ethereal by Anonymous [words: 3,360]

Perhaps he should have killed him, but when a little, Omega boy stumbles upon Hannibal in the woods, the Alpha can't help but be intrigued.

Visitation by HotMolasses [words: 6,674]

The door creaked open to Alana's office at the BSHCI, and when no one entered and no one spoke, she finally looked up. Before her was a shivering, sweat-drenched Will Graham, his body wrapped in one of the hospital blankets, his face red with fever. “Will?” she asked, concerned, rising to walk towards him. “How did you…” She halted the moment his scent reached her. “You’re in heat.” Will’s eyes were unfocused and he stared at the floor, unable to raise them in the submissive state he was in. “Hannibal.” he said, his voice pleading, needy. Cold chills ran down Alana’s spine in waves. Oh no. No.

Stand By My Side by Anonymous [words: 9,215]

Hannibal's looking for an Omega at the auction house. Trust him to like the one covered in blood who's just killed three guards in a desperate attempt to escape. Oh Hannibal, what have you gotten yourself in for this time?

Unstoppable by HotMolasses [words: 2,462]

Will walks into Hannibal's office for his usual appointment. Hannibal scents that he's about to go into heat. They both lose their self-control.

Omega Mine by melmac [words: 11,995]

Will Graham is an unhappy omega married to the wrong Alpha. When the right one enters his life, they'd both do everything to right a very wrong situation.

Red City by TimmyJaybird [words: 28,760]

They met by happenstance- he smelled like a muted sweetness that drove a fire into Hannibal's blood. Or perhaps it was the way the boy didn't flinch, despite the body Hannibal had his hands on. Perhaps even it was something in those stormy eyes, that told a story of forced silence. Whatever it was, Hannibal was intrigued by this boy, but he could not foresee just how quickly Will would get under his skin, sink into his pores and cling like a tattoo. He couldn't know the trauma that clung to him like an ashen shadow.

Staking a Claim by blackcrystaly [words: 5,242]

From the moment Hannibal saw William he knew the omega was his.

Playing For Keeps by blackcrystaly [words: 11,292]

William senses that the last victim of the Chesapeake Ripper is a courting gift for him and wonders if he isn't getting obsessed with the case, so he decides not to tell anything to the BAU Chief, instead, he decides he must go to to speak with the always trustful Doctor Lecter, the alpha he had become progressively more and more attracted to.

Peachfire Whiskey by KareliaSweet [words: 22,076]

Will knows he'll remember this scent until the day he dies. Hannibal smells like firewood, and malt whiskey, and roasted peaches drizzled in honey. He smells like nothing Will has ever scented before, and it is so divine it dizzies him. or The Adventures of Professor Will Graham and His Terribly Naughty Omega Student, Hannibal Fucking Lecter.

Avaricious by everybreathagift [words: 11,432]

Sometimes, an omega's heat can trigger a dangerous response in an Alpha. After seven years, Will is going into heat and Hannibal ends up not taking well. The drama queen.

Tender by HotMolasses [words: 6,021]

Most people are betas, though a person can present as Alpha or Omega at any point in their life, not just at puberty. Hannibal has been an Alpha since he was a child and Mischa was killed. Will has been a Beta for all his life, but when Hannibal rescues him from Muskrat farm and begins to take care of him, Will's biology has other ideas.

Blaze by HotMolasses [words: 3,008]

The thought slipped from his mind as a warm tingle spread across his skin. Will inhaled again, deeply, and the scent was so good, so very, very good. A soft moan even escaped his lips before he realized what he was scenting, though it wasn’t until he heard the feral, bestial growl in front of him that his brain finally made the full connection, and his eyes flew open in terror. Rut. Hannibal had indeed lost his control. Will’s eyes snapped up to Hannibal’s and he saw them dilating. Will’s throat grew dry and his heart leapt with fear. The Chesapeake Ripper was in rut, and it was because of him.

Wings of Wax and Feather by BelladonnaWyck and raiast [words: 55,947]

"Did you just smell me?” "Difficult to avoid. My apologies, I didn’t realize there were any Omegas in this section of the prison.” “Most get sent to the Omega Holding Facility two counties over. But then, most don’t get done in for rippin’ out an Alpha’s throat in the middle of the street.” or Hannibal Lecter had always known the winding road of fate may one day lead him straight to a prison cell. He’d never imagined he’d find his true mate there.

Cheque Please by WendigoDreaming [words: 1,829]

Hannibal was just trying to enjoy a meal, the last thing he needed was an omega busboy in barely concealed heat wandering around the restaurant.

Picture Imperfect by shiphitsthefan [words: 13,645]

Will Graham has made a name for himself in the magazine industry for being the one and only alpha photographer that can be trusted. It isn’t that he doesn’t have hormonal urges; Will is simply able to control himself. In a society run by omegas, Will's empathetic nature is a gift; he can easily assume the omega mindset, almost as if he shares their biology, their behavior. Omegas feel safe with Will, because he isn’t innately predatory. He's just walked into a photo shoot with concert harpsichordist Hannibal Lecter. He's about to ruin everything.

An Easy Kind of Love by Dormchi [words: 4,167]

Will opens the door and the concentrated scent of pheromones, sweat, and slick that wafts out nearly makes Hannibal fall to his knees. Confining Will to one room is arguably the worst mistake Hannibal has ever made. Maybe he should have just buried himself alive, instead of allowing himself to be manipulated by such a horrible creature.

Compliments of the Chief by Entity_Sylvir [words: 3,252]

Hannibal pays a diplomatic visit to the leader of neighbouring tribe, and is treated to a somewhat unusual brand of negotiation. "Hello?" Hannibal greeted a little quizzically. "Do you have a message?" "Um," the boy replied softly, seeming to have a little trouble getting his words out. "No. I—I'm here on behalf of our tribe. And our hospitality." He gave a little hesitant smile. "Compliments of the chief."

Turning Page by raiast [words: 15,958]

'It's biologically impossible for Alpha parents to be affected by their Omega children's Heats. When Will presents while alone with his father, Hannibal realizes two things. 1) Bedelia cheated on him, and 2) he can claim Will for himself.'

Strawberry Jello by TigerPrawn [words: 13,484]

Will is a cop, shot in the line of duty. Hannibal is his surgeon. This would be the perfect set up for romance if they didn’t happen to both be Alphas…

Hold for Release by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,547]

“But?” “Will, I think you’re obsessed with the Chesapeake Ripper.” For a moment, Will just blinks at her, but after what she says sinks in, a chuckle starts building up in his chest until it grows into a laugh. He’s almost coming apart at the seams because of Beverly, but as he notices he’s the only one finding it funny, his giggling dies off into silence. “Oh… You’re serious.”

Prodigal by YouAreMyDesign [words: 23,000]

"Mama, look at me." He does, irises shining with water he refuses to let fall. Hannibal presses his lips together, smooths his thumbs over his mother's cheeks. "Are you happy here?"

Darling Boy by Yggdrastiles (yoingle) [words: 5,223]

When Will Graham was 10 years old, he became an orphan. Hannibal Lecter adopted him, out of the goodness of his heart. Not really, he saw that angelic little omega and decided that he'd claim him as soon as he had his first heat. This is that story.

Lure by YouAreMyDesign [words: 16,720]

Hannibal eyes him, and tilts his head. "You challenged Jack because you wanted to see what he would do," he says. Will winces, but can't deny it. "If you challenged me, what do you think I would do?"

2 (25/25)

#hannibal #hannibal fanifc #hannigram #hannigram fanfiction #abo

[snidgetwidgeon]

Insurrection Recollections Series: Clandestine Research

After Zelda's father orders her to give up her research, Zelda and Purah hatch a plan. The only way it will succeed is if Link intervenes.

~~~

The day after her father told her she could no longer waste her time by playing the scholar, Zelda was issued an official written directive via castle courier as if she were one of his subordinates. She was livid. It instructed her to relinquish all of her ancient technology artefacts and materials to the Tech Lab by the end of the week. Oh how considerate of him to give me some time to sort out my busy schedule! She tore the missive to pieces and threw it in the fireplace.

Fine. She would do it post haste to the detriment of everything else she had going on. Studies with her economy instructor? Nope, she had a directive. Receiving the latest visiting dignitary in court that evening? Nope, she had a directive from the King. A fruitless visit to the Spring of Power to perform devotions that brought her nothing but scorn from her own people? Thank Nayru she had a Goddess damned directive from her father that allowed her to avoid the very thing she no longer wanted to do anyway!

Link looked on as Princess Zelda stomped back and forth between her room and study, forgetting things in her state and then becoming even more upset. He had offered his help but she refused so he stood watch on the bridge. The best he could do was stay out of her way and be available at a moment’s notice.

When she finally got to her journal, having left it for last, she closed the door to her study to have a moment of privacy. As she re-read some of the pages detailing her adventures into archaeology, she thought about how they were merely notes and should not be subject to the purge. She decided to keep it.

Emerging from her study with a resolve that Link could see was strained at best, Zelda nodded to him that she was ready to leave. He hailed an available attendant and they assisted in carrying items down to the stables. Even with Zelda insisting on carrying some things herself, the attendant would need to make one more trip and grab another person along the way.

While the rest was being collected, Zelda and Link saddled up the horses in silence. To anyone else, this would seem no different from the early days of their time together when she resented him and their silence was cold and strained. Now it was a companionable silence. He caught her looking at him over her horse’s back as she was tightening her straps. He smiled.

She felt a flush and a sudden need to make an excuse. “You always have such a way with horses...” She then ducked behind hers and pretended to do something else.

Between their mounts and a third mare carrying normal travel supplies, they were able to take everything. Zelda also wore a satchel on her back with a few of the more delicate items. As they made their way through the grounds, Link steered his horse around slightly, indicating down the path that led to the docks and asked, “Shall we take the ferry?”

“No, thank you.” She looked straight ahead with her nose stuck figuratively up toward her father as she passed him. “I would like to make this trip last as long as possible if you don’t mind.”

~~~

They arrived in the evening, just in time for dinner. Zelda and Link had agreed on the way there that she could have a night of normalcy. While she went in, he attended the horses and unloaded everything, stacking it in a tidy pile just inside the workshop to be dealt with in the morning. He then joined the others, received a heaping serve of beef curry and proceeded to keep mostly to himself as he was wont to do in large social gatherings. 

He watched Zelda closely, but not obviously, and noticed how very bittersweet it all was for her. She would no doubt be wishing it could be like any other visit. She laughed and carried on with the others, sharing how well the trials at the castle had gone the previous day. But he could see it. Any small moment where she wasn’t engaged with someone, her face fell and the light was gone from her eyes. When Purah noticed and asked if she was alright, she easily brushed it off by saying she was just tired from her busy schedule and a full day of travel.

The following morning, Link was in tow when Zelda entered Purah’s messy workspace with the Sheikah Slate. They had already seen to the items in the workshop, making sure they were distributed to the proper places around the Lab.

“Good morning, good morning! You’re just in time- oh, I’m so glad you brought the Slate. I meant to send word that you should come by the Lab soon so I could use it, but you must have read my mind because here you are; and I completely forgot to send the word.” She put her arm around Zelda’s shoulders and guided her to the large stone in the middle of the room, “Come, I want you to look at this and tell me what you think.”

Zelda let herself be dragged over but instead of looking at the stone, she sort of glazed over in an effort to shield herself from more pain. “Purah, I must apologize.”

“What for? Give it a second, I didn’t expect you to figure it out right away, silly.”

“No, I mean- I should have told you first thing last night.” She handed the Sheikah Slate to Purah who took it with brows furrowed in concern but also remained quiet to listen to her friend.

“Father has ordered me to focus all of my attention on my training. I’m- I can no longer assist the research team. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just... kind of wanted to pretend it didn’t happen for as long as I could.”

“Oh, Zelly, no. It’s ok.” Purah gave her a quick but sincere hug before going off. “Din’s balls, this is the pits! I’ll be lodging a formal complaint- you watch me- he can’t take away one of my best researchers.” She waved the Slate around dramatically. “Now I’m going to have to find a new translator; who does he think he is!?”

Zelda started giggling. As always, Purah’s infectious energy and earnestness made her feel a bit less crap when she was down. “The King,” Zelda’s giggling evolved into open laughter. ”He’s the King, Purah.”

Purah just pushed up her glasses and said matter-of-factly, “Well... King or no King, he’s acting like a fool.”

Link smiled from his post across the room thinking about how he couldn’t agree more. The day before yesterday on the bridge he had questioned if his oath to protect the Princess extended to defending her from the King himself.

“Were you leaving today?” Purah asked, but didn’t let Zelda answer and kept talking, “You’re not leaving today. I need your help with something and you aren’t officially done until you leave, you hear? Come with me.” She strode out of her office on a mission.

Zelda smiled after her and then looked at Link with a raised brow asking- not for his approval, but more his opinion. He merely shrugged and gestured that she should follow the woman.

Over the course of the day Link observed their antics and found moments to opportunistically disappear when it looked like they were going to need a person for some sort of trial. That night, some celebrations ramped up as Purah decided to throw a gratitude party to thank Zelda for all that she had contributed. Link thought that idea was pretty smart, making it look like Zelda’s choice to take on other important tasks. This way, she could leave with her head held high, at least until she was out of sight.

About mid morning the following day, Link got the horses ready for the return home and then realized he may have been a bit preemptive when he went to collect Zelda. She and Purah looked at him like startled foxes when he entered Purah’s office and they proceeded to finish their conversation in hushed voices.

Perhaps Zelda wanted to stay on longer? Then Purah spoke normally again and handed Zelda a book. “So, if you could just take that one back to my room, that would be great.”

Zelda nodded and said nonchalantly, “No problem.”

As she walked out, Link started to follow, but Purah exclaimed, “Oh, Link! Could you help me carry these?” She grinned, “Please?”

“Um, sure. What is it?” he asked when he didn’t see anything specific that she was asking about.

“Just a sec!” Her eyes darted around and she grabbed a box that already had a few guardian pieces in it which she proceeded to unceremoniously dump in the middle of the floor. She then flitted around the room grabbing random items to throw in the box that she needed ‘help’ carrying.

He wandered over to the second story window to check on the horses outside while he waited to see how- whatever it was that she was up to- played out. He didn’t have to wait long at all as he noticed Zelda, distinctly not in Purah’s room, and still holding onto that book. He immediately knew what it was. Ancient contraband.

She approached her white horse and gave it a scratch as she went to place the book in her saddlebags. As she lifted the flap she hesitated for a moment. He smirked as she went over to his horse instead and buried the book into his saddle bag. Clever, but not clever enough. If she was worried that her father might go as far as to search her things when she returned, then he was not going to take the chance that they wouldn’t do the same to him. He’d have to hide it better later.

“Right! So... this stuff here. Could you please take it downstairs?” Purah requested with another cheesy grin.

He balked a little at everything sticking out of it. She couldn’t at least have made her distraction easy? He gave a little sigh, “No problem.”

~~~

That night as Zelda slept by the campfire, Link snuck over to the horses and quietly dug through his saddle bag for the book. She tucked it right at the bottom under the other book he generally kept with him in case he ever had time to kill. He looked back over to her sleeping form and surreptitiously stuck it behind his back just inside the waistband of his trousers, then tightened his belt over it a bit. Sleep would be a bit less comfortable and he’d have to wear his cloak over it even if he got warm tomorrow, but that should do the trick.

When they arrived back home, Link clocked that their approach was noticed with a bit more interest than usual. Zelda may not have been wrong in her suspicions regarding her father; the King was becoming more stressed and paranoid by the day.

They were met at the West gatehouse by a young castle guard who looked nervous. “Many pardons Princess Zelda, but we have instructions to check your cargo.”

She kept her calm and said coldly, “Do as you will.”

Another guard approached to help and she felt her ire rise as they rummaged through her things right next to her. She didn’t bother hiding her withering stare. She wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

Once they were satisfied, the guard bowed. “My apologies, Princess.”

“Indeed.” She then clicked for her horse to continue and went no more than two steps before she heard the guard behind her ask for Link to please remain still for a search as well. Her stomach sank and she twisted around in her saddle before pulling her mount up sideways. Outwardly, she appeared to just be waiting for her Knight Attendant. Link appeared entirely unfazed, and why wouldn’t he? He didn’t know that she’d foolishly set him up to be punished.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the guards, then stared sharply at the one that took out a book. He turned it over and opened it to a random page in the middle before nodding to Link and placing it back in his bag. “Our apologies, Sir Link. Please enjoy the rest of your day.” They crossed an arm across their chest and nodded.

Link came to join her as she continued a few more steps before she stopped awkwardly. Her mind was racing. Did it get lost!? She gave a harried look at Link who returned it with a head tilt of curiosity. Did he find it and throw it out!? She couldn’t act on any of her agonizing questions!

“On second thought,” she called after the guards, “You may take the horses to the stables. Please have my things delivered and report to my father that I will be resting from today’s journey and will not be disturbed.” She dismounted, continuing out of the gatehouse on foot. Link followed suit.

As she went up the steps leading to the courtyard below her quarters, she was afraid to say anything with patrolling guards so near. She finally stomped up the stairs to her room in a frenzied state. That book was important! How was she going to find out about what happened to it without being seriously reprimanded from going against her father’s will?

She practically forgot Link was behind her and before she entered her room, he said in a hushed tone, “The next time you need me to hide something for you,” he pulled the book out from under his tunic behind his back, “it might be better that I’m actually involved.”

She looked down at it and her eyes widened before snapping back up to his smug face. It quickly turned into one of shock as she grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him in. After riding the highest levels of stress, fear of discovery, and relief all in the span of a few minutes, she latched onto him in a tight hug without a second thought. “Thank Hylia, you have it! First I thought I was fine, then I thought I’d- and you would be punished for sure as well, and then I thought it was lost somehow-” she had pulled away at this point, “but how could it be? I hid it at the very bottom.”

Link watched her nervous rambling with a rather judgmental, yet amused expression.  

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He held his hands up, book still in one, as if to accept defeat to a potential argument that hadn’t even started.

“I didn’t think that they would bother to search you.” She stopped herself as she noticed her old habit of deflecting fault was rearing its ugly head. She had vowed to be better since he saved her life in the desert and right now, that meant an apology was probably due.

She sighed, “I’m sorry, Link. I should have trusted you. I guess I just thought that you wouldn’t approve or... may have stopped me.”

“Have you met you?” he asked rhetorically as he handed the book over.

She copped his joke and pressed her lips together hard so she wouldn’t laugh on principle, but her belly bounced a little  in a silent chortle anyway. Once she regained her composure her brows knitted and she enquired, “But why didn’t you just tell me you knew before we got back? You could have-” her mouth gaped as she gasped in realization. “You were getting back at me for not telling you!?”

“I did think I was owed a tiny bit of payback for being an unknowing accomplice in smuggling your ancient contraband.”

“Well... I...” She became flustered in her defeat.

He hadn’t meant to actually make her feel bad so he smiled. “It’s ok. I’m on your side so just tell me next time you need help.”

He probably thought that was just a nice thing to say but his genuine declaration of support struck right to the base of her core. The oaths that they had taken at the beginning of this colossal mess had meant nothing to her back then, but through the eventual development of their friendship, she discovered that those ties now carried weight; and though she still felt useless for the coming trial, she respected their bond more than ever. And he did too. Urbosa and Impa were the only other people whom she felt truly knew her. Now she had another, and she felt blessed that he was always by her side.

Blinking away her hard stare at his words, she came back to herself and said, “Alright then. Since you’re now in on this, you can be my mule.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m Purah’s best translator so I’ll need you to feed any potential discoveries to Impa. If she’s away you can take them to Robbie. He’ll still be here for a while yet working on the Guardians.”

She continued nattering on, the way she did when she seemed to speak more to herself than to another person, while she sat down with the book at her desk and started to flip through the pages. “I’ll be starting right away. I’ve actually been dying to dive in. Did you want to stay until I get something ready or do you have things you need to do?”

When she looked back at him he had an unspoken expectation on his face which she proceeded to misread. “It’s quite alright if you have things to take care of, I’m sure I’ll be a while yet before I have- oh! You mean,” she smiled sheepishly and then cleared her throat. “Sorry. Sir Link, do you consent?”

The way she asked had him closing his eyes and shaking his head in amusement.

“No?”

“No- I mean, yes, Princess, you have my consent.” He bowed eloquently. “I’ll return later when you might have something for me.”

“Thank you.”  

He opened the door to leave and she added, “And thank you for...”

He stopped and looked back.

“For being on my side,” she finished.

He nodded and went.

She sat for a few moments looking at where he’d just been, a tingle running through all of her limbs in a wave, causing goosebumps.

~~~

There had been a few things of interest that she sent to Purah via Link’s underground network. Thankfully, she had kept many detailed notes about how to translate ancient Sheikah text. She always was a good note taker. Her very own research journal was an invaluable resource that she had justifiably not been made to give up. Her father must have either thought she couldn’t do much with it or didn’t want to go to such an extent to violate her personal belongings after he took the only thing that was bringing her any joy.

She was out at her study tower again, working on it at a time she was not likely to be disturbed- but even if she were, Link was on duty outside. She came across a passage on underground structures and thought she was finally on track to learning where the pillars were. If only they could be located, the research team would supposedly be able to harness many more Guardians, not just the ones that had been dug up. These ones were properly stored and ready for when the Calamity struck.

With her potential conclusion on the material of the passage being under such a bias, she kept getting stuck. The page wasn’t making sense as it stated the pillars were all over Hyrule; but she knew them to be under the castle.

She read on about something pertaining to activation of the network, or that everything was connected, or... something. Her eyes were getting tired and she felt a brain melt coming on. If only she had more points of reference. She pined after the Slate. In its absence, all she had left was the library and she couldn’t risk going there without being watched. She started to lean back in her chair and zone out at her wall in abject defeat when she noticed a doodle. It was a less detailed, but accurate copy of the tapestry in Impa’s office.

Just as she began to think she wouldn’t glean anything from a picture she’d looked at a thousand times, she noticed the pillars framing the castle. There were also a few of the same at the bottom, and one in each quadrant... all around Hyrule. But the others wouldn’t be the pillars. They look like towers.

She sat up straight and began to re-read the translation. If she thought of them as towers, and there was some sort of connection between them- but where were they? She’d practically been all over the kingdom and had never seen such a structure. Perhaps buried, like the pillars!

With newly invigorated passion, she stood and stretched, then crossed the small circular room to the door. Opening it part way, she saw Link standing at ease and then turning to regard her.

“Sir Link? I believe I am in dire need of a hot chocolate in order to continue performing at the best of my abilities. Could you please send for one?”

He smiled knowingly and dipped his head in kind before leaving to find an attendant or a less strictly positioned guard to pass on the request.

“Oh, and please get one for yourself! If you want to,” she added.

He waved behind him to acknowledge he’d heard.

She closed the door and looked over at the materials on her desk and the drawing of the tapestry. She felt there was something potentially big here. If so, she wanted so badly to find a way to tell Impa or Purah herself. She thought of the devotions she had looming in a few hours time. They were now most of her days and she felt more like a helpless failure than ever before. She couldn’t bear the thought of never being able to share in discoveries again. She would wait until she could see them somehow. At least then she would have some joy.

#breath of the wild #fanfiction #writing #*trumpet noise* this is my first fic post #been derping away on my stories for over a year and finally have something to show #runs around like a cucco in excitement #clandestine research #Insurrection Recollections Series #snidgetwidgeon scribbles

[ink-asunder]

The Heartless DLC - The Rest of the Story

I’ve given a lot of thought to this, but I’ve decided to drop my Dragon Age: Inquisition/Dragon’s Dogma crossover fic, The Heartless DLC. I’m not out of ideas, but it turns out retelling the entire last 2/3rds of the game WITH original quests was too much of an undertaking for me. That combined with my surprising distaste with elements of Dragon Age and issues with the fandom just made it a project that I have no interest in continuing at this time.

It’s not fair to keep my readers in the dark, even if I *do* plan to get back to it someday. So I’m going to give a heavily abridged but general summary of how The Heartless DLC would’ve continued and ended right here, just so you get the full story instead of me leaving you hanging. It’s also a fairly long post!

After the events at Adamant, the Inquisitor and Arisen ltake care of some side-quests, favor quests, and cleaning up some areas whilst also preparing for the ball at Halamshiral. As stated previously, the Arisen and Gale will be going on their own, not under the Inquisition. Once there, the Inquisitor searches for clues, and the Arisen very quickly realizes that there are pawns serving at the ball. Gale pretends to faint, which allows him and the Arisen to be temporarily excused while the pawns take them to the servant’s quarters.

Once in the privacy of the servant’s quarters, the pawns give Marnie an urgent update about the state of things in Gransys. The Duke wasn’t ill, he was trying to keep her away. Nothing particularly heinous is unfolding, but the pawns are worried the Arisen has abandoned them. Marnie assures them that she’ll return, but before they resolve the issue, the harlequin drops in and tries to murder them.

Cut back to the Inquisition. The Inquisitor finally finds some clues and escapes to the servants quarters with his companions. By the time they get there, Marnie and the pawns are nowhere to be found and everyone else is slaughtered. They briefly have a moment of “oh, so I guess we might have to consider Marnie did this” and move on. They find Marnie and the pawns engaged in battle in the courtyard, and the two groups converge for the rest of the quest. They discover the pawns have been traveling to and from Gransys by a Riftstone they brought overseas with them. This Riftstone is later transported to a grove closer to Skyhold for ease of access to the Pawn Guild. It might be noted that Marnie is the one who finds and unlocks the Empress halla door, mostly because her pawns were collecting whatever they could find already. She has Gale interrogate the man for her, then she brings the information to the Inquisitor. The empress is spared, Florianne is arrested, and the Inquisitor has enough evidence to ally all three parties.

Now that there’s a Riftstone at Skyhold, Gale is going out at night on jobs in other worlds. More pawns begin to frequent Skyhold. They don’t blend in well, but the Arisen is able to explain it away as if the Duke sent over members of his elite army, of which the Arisen is a commander. No one ever suspect she had that kind of station. The pawns all seem moderately wary of Solas, but decide he won’t pull anything in Skyhold around the Arisen, for whatever reason. Gale has the most influence over the other pawns aside from the Arisen because he is the main pawn in this universe. That puts him at a high position, even though he may be younger than many pawns he meets.

Gale still goes to Solas frequently. Their meetings range from Gale asking for help with spells to discussing the Inquisition and the Arisen. Solas starts asking Gale to keep their meetings a secret from the Arisen (red flag!). Meanwhile, Cole and Marnie settle their differences; Marnie says she was never upset with Cole to begin with, and they both make a point to be more objective and communicative with each other. Marnie resumes training Cole and gifts him a pair of climbing boots with spikes on the bottoms (shout out to RavenNox on fanfiction.net for mentioning the strider concept art in a review, because I hadn’t seen it before!).

After Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts, the Inquisitor decides to finally get in a good dragon hunt like I’ve been teasing. This is a long-ish “Dragonhunt Arc,” and it’s what I’d imagine Marnie’s main favor quest would be if this was a real DLC. They go to the Hinterlands to fight the Fereldan Frostback, (I know, I should be writing them getting back at that damn dragon in Crestwood, but I haven’t written anything in the Hinterlands yet, and I wanna get to it). There’s an epic battle where the Inquisition FINALLY gets to see more of that dynamic climbing from Marnie and Cole. Gale also shows some creative use of healing spells by preemptively casting healing spells while Marnie is in danger, then she’ll heal as soon as she’s injured and it’ll spare her, (Gale actually did stuff like this with consumable curatives while I was fighting the Ur-Dragon quite a few times, so I wanted to implement it).

At the end of the battle, the Arisen realizes that dragons are just animals here, as opposed to intelligent, self-possessed beings like in Gransys. Therefore, the only real “reason” she came to Thedas was a bust. She’s noticeably sullen and distraught for several days, and Gale begins to worry. Eventually, Gale reaches out to the Inner Circle for help, and they arrange a quiet evening in the yard where she and Gale could dress fancy and slow-dance because it was the one thing she wanted to do at Halamshiral and couldn’t do. There’s this vague internal monologue about how she never gets to keep what she loves, and it’s implied she only truly loves Gale, and it’s also a subtle reminder that she’s a fucking god, but anyway.

After the Dragonhunt Arc, I get back to the main quest, except I kind of don’t, because I want things to be more dramatic. They chip away at some favor quests, and oddly enough, Gale and the Arisen start to drift apart. This is due to several factors including but not limited to Marnie being preoccupied with other pawns and Inquisition-related duties, but it’s also largely because of a concentrated effort on several people’s part to get Gale to assert himself as an individual human as opposed to a pawn defined by his Arisen.

When they go to the Temple of Mythal, Marnie and Gale can barely keep themselves together. The group manages to complete the quest regardless. They ally with Abelas and Morrigan drinks from the Well of Sorrows.

When they face off against Corypheus, Marnie uses the Backfire skill when fighting the red lyrium dragon to ensure it dies. In that moment, a part of her is frighteningly powerful, almost like she is no longer human. (God this stuff sounds corny.) She passes out for a minute and Gale stays with her while she recovers and the others go to fight Corypheus. Corypheus probably delivers a villainous monologue. I was originally going to have Marnie and Gale bust in and at the part where Corypheus says "ancient ones, if you've ever been there, be with me now," Marnie says "I am one" but I decided against it. The Inquisitor lands the killing blow because this is his quest and his game.

During the afterparty, the Arisen and Gale interact with each member of the inner circle with the news that they'd be leaving for Gransys in the morning. Neither are drinking and they're both dressed as if they're going to leave any minute.

When Marnie and Gale are setting off, Cole comes to Marnie one last time and tells her she never will be alone. That reassures her and, for the time being, she seems ready to confront Grigori upon her return to Gransys.

When Marnie and Gale return for the Tresspasser DLC, they still haven't killed Grigori, but they did go to Bitterblack Isle. As such, their gear is dope and dragonforged, and their mental health is in shambles. Gale also converted to the way of the bow while they were there. They aid the Inquisition in fighting Qunari and finding Solas, and he and Marnie have a final showdown where he's revealed to be the Dread Wolf and she's revealed to be the Seneschel who reset the world so she could relive being the Arisen again and again. Solas needles her about why she redid everything, why she refuses to assume her place as Seneschel, and how many times she's done this same thing over and over again. Gale manages to shoot Solas from afar and they're all driven apart.

After the Inquisition returns to Skyhold and orients themselves, only Gale reappears saying his Arisen sent him in case they meant her any harm after her reveal. After the Inquisitor agrees not to compromise Marnie, Gale leads him to the ruins by the Riftstone, where Marnie's been waiting. They have a chat about her true origins and intentions, and she admits she didn't defeat Grigori because she knew she'd have to leave the mortal world soon after. She agrees to help the Inquisition when she can and places a Portcrystal by the Riftstone. They both agree that things are probably going to get a whole lot worse.

And that's where the fic ends. There's also a number of subplots I neglected to detail. Cole's favor quest, a few side quests related to the pawn guild, etc. As I said, I might return to the fic later on, but I really don't care for it or the fandom or the source material anymore. It's sad, but I'm happier elsewhere. And I thought it was only fair to leave some conclusion to the fic regardless. I might post certain chapters and snipets on my tumblr, but for the most part, this is the last you'll see of the official fic.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the readers and fans that have stuck with me through all this. I wish you all the best, and I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full fic. Stay safe out there!

#the heartless dlc #my fanfic #a conclusion of a project

[builder051]

My world’s on fire (how ‘bout yours)

Nat on Fire 9.0.  

Please note that I do not write scat outright, though this fic relies heavily on the idea of it.

Eating disorder tag warning

________________________

It’s not supposed to happen this way.  

Nat rests her cheek on the toilet seat.  It’s gone sticky with either her sweat or her vomit; she doesn’t care much which, and she’s certainly not going to take any steps to find out. Her gorge rises again, and she lets the preemptive saliva run out the side of her mouth.  It hangs in a long rope that refuses to touch down into the cloudy water.  Nat’s sure that if it did, it would part company with her lip, and she could tidy herself up.  But no such luck.  

Her stomach gives an ominous gurgle, and Nat clenches her abdominal muscles.  “No,” she growls, giving the side eye to foil packet of laxatives that didn’t quite make it into the trash can.  It’s the second packet.  Her hands got shaky and her gut started doing somersaults before she could successfully lob it across the tiny bathroom.  

It’s not supposed to happen this way.  

They’re onto her at SHIELD; Fury giving her extra-long stares in meetings, Maria tapping her pen as Nat steps on the scale in her medical debriefs.  Then there’s Steve, who practically lives with her when he’s not called away on missions of his own.  “Just want to make sure you’re alright,” he says.  “Because I care about you,” he says.

Plainly he doesn’t care enough.  He took his bike back to Alexandria after the plane touched down last night, and Nat has seen neither hide nor hair of him since.  Good riddance, she’d thought.  So she’d hopped, skipped, and jumped straight to the pharmacy and loaded up on her favorite brand of laxatives.  They’ve updated the font on the box, and the colors are a little brighter since the decade has changed, but the formulation is the same.  Nat has the ingredients list memorized.  She could probably formulate the medication herself if she had access to all the right -ics and -ates.  

Nat’s rock-hard core can only prevent the inevitable for so long, and when the pit of her stomach begins to feel as though it’s scorching on a bed of hot coals, she reluctantly lets go, leaning forward and letting sourness spill over her tongue again.  

She tastes the plasticky reddish coating.  It’s slightly sweet, and Nat finds herself wondering vaguely how much sucralose is swimming in her stomach.  Or maybe aspartame.  Or even maltitol.  That would be a fitting choice.  She nearly snorts, but it becomes a heave.  A wave of pinkish fluid, chunky with mucous flows into the toilet slowly, almost languidly, as if it’s just dying to choke her on an ill-timed breath.

Nat spits hard, then squeezes her pelvic floor again.  She’ll do just about anything in her power to keep from losing her bowels all over the bathmat.  For a second she considers clawing her way up the tank and plopping down on the toilet seat, but that would be too much effort. And inviting the worst.  No, she’ll stay in her current position, thank you very much.

She’s about to lie the side of her face down again when an infernal buzzing fills her ears.  The bathroom may be the size of a matchbox, but the subway tiling makes it echo like Grand Central Station.  She glances sideways at her phone, balanced on the lip of the bathtub, and rotating slightly with each thrumming vibration.  

It’s Steve’s picture that pops up on the screen, a jaunty shot of him in a leather jacket, standing beside his bike.  Nat scoffs.  The image is practically half a decade in age, but she still feels jealousy along with the pain in the pit of her stomach.  He’s out having fun, or whatever, while she’s cooped up doing... this.

This is her choice, though.  And it’s her choice whether to answer the call.  She bites her lip, tasting a tinge of coppery blood through the sourness and sweetness that are already there.  Nat rolls her eyes, then regrets it almost immediately.  It bypasses making her head hurt and goes straight to her stomach, ramping up the nausea and forcing her to roll to face the mess in the toilet water once more.

The phone stops ringing as she pukes up air and not much else.  Nat sighs in relief, though she’s careful not to relax her body too much.  But her temper spikes again quickly when the devices begins to vibrate again almost immediately.  

“Can’t you just shut the fuck up?” she mumbles, swatting a hand in the phone’s general direction.  The phone stubbornly ignores her.  

“Right.”

Not trusting herself to stray far from the toilet, Nat uses her foot to knock the device onto the floor so she can pick it up.  She snags it in her clammy grip and snorts in distaste before swiping at the green answer button.

“Yeah?” she asks gruffly, hoping the hoarseness in her voice will be lost to a combination of bad mood and bad signal.

“You ok?” Steve asks on the other end of the crackling line.  “I know it’s been a few days.”

Nat wonders if any of her old lines will work on him.  I’ve got the stomach flu, she considers saying.  I ate some bad takeout.

“Having a smoke,” she decides on.  At least it’ll explain the note of guilt in her voice.  

“In the bathroom?” Steve asks.  Of course he can hear the echo.  Of course he can.

Nat struggles to think on her feet.  “Gotta avoid the smoke detectors somehow.”  She tries to grin, but loosening her mouth makes other parts of her body loose as well.  She clenches again and bares her teeth.

“Want me to come over?  Between the two of us we can probably rewire it--”

“No,” Nat interrupts.  The only reason she hasn’t already done so is because the place is a rental.  On the very real chance that a spark from her gun or the ash from a joint hit the carpet, she doesn’t want to be in trouble with management.  She decides to throw in a touch of shade, just for good measure.  “Like I’d need your help with a project like that.”

“Oh.  Sure.”  Steve sounds properly chagrined. “But still, I could pick up something.  Korean barbecue, or something.”

Nat tries not to spill her guts again.  From any direction.  “I don’t like barbecue.  From any country,” she says snootily.  

“Right...”  She can tell Steve’s trying to fact check her.  “But weren’t you at Clint’s thing--?”

“I don’t like it,” Nat insists, which probably does the opposite of any good.  She just doesn’t feel well enough to come up with any other excuses.  Best to keep beating the last horse till it’s well and truly deceased.  Unfortunately, this brings up an image of ground equine like she’s seen in European factories, covered in a generous serving of Carolina’s best concoction of tomato and brown sugar.

Nat pulls the phone from her ear to her cleavage and heaves hard.  For a moment everything hangs in limbo, and she’s not sure where the sickness in the pit of her stomach is going to come from next.  But then with another cough, it’s all down her chin and speckled across the toilet seat, pink and gluey.

“Nat?”  Steve’s muffled voice asks, the phone buzzing in time with his words and sending minute vibrations through her shirt and into her very skin.  “You ok?  What’s going on?”

She has a split second to decide what to say.  If she hangs up, he’ll be onto her in a second.  If she makes an excuse, will he buy it?  Can she claim PMS?  Has she told him yet that she’s infertile?  Nat clenches her abs and glutes as she tries to remember.

“Natasha?”

“I’m just sick,” she says guiltily, hanging her head in mock shame that feels more than real.  

“I thought you were smoking...”  He’s suspicious now.  Nat can practically see the concerned crease between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I was.”  Nat breathes through a cramp.  “I just, uh, it’s been too long.  Turned my stomach.”

She’s surprised when Steve starts to laugh.  “Hm.  Yeah,” he says with a chuckle.  “I know how that is.  Only happened to me about twenty times before Buck finally banned me from cigarettes...”  He sounds almost wistful now.

“Yeh.”  Nat does her best to agree while swallowing another rising gag.

“You want me to come?  Best remedy there is to have something to eat.  Maybe rice and egg drop soup?” Steve offers.  “I promise to leave the barbecue there.”

Nat would smile if she thought she could.  Maybe.  Possibly.  She hasn’t yet decided.  What she can do is grimace as her lower abdomen begins to twist in a manner of more familiar discomfort.

“Nah,” she whispers, trying not to gasp in pain.  “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Steve sighs over the other end of the line.  He pauses, then says, “Ok.  Later, then?”

Nat knows she isn’t getting off the hook.  Best she can do is keep him away long enough to let her empty out in peace.  She doesn’t know how long it’ll take.  Hours, possibly.  

She doesn’t know what time it is, but Nat assumes it’s close to the lunch hour, since it’s light outside and Steve’s so hell bent on food.  “Maybe dinner?” she poses.  

“Sure,” Steve says with what can only be described as a sigh as relief.  It must confirm to him that she’s not too far gone.  

Nat’s pleased with what she’s managed to do, but now guilt squeezes her gut and threatens to make her sick all over again.  

“Eight, maybe?” Steve suggests.  “I’ll bring the food.”

“Yeah, ok.”  Nat’s mouth is watering again, but not with anticipation of the meal to come.  She wants to get off the phone before she vomits again, or, god forbid, before her body decides to do anything else.  “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

“Ok.  See you.” Nat lowers the phone and presses the red button before Steve finishes saying goodbye.

“Ok,” she sighs, lowering her forehead to the toilet seat again.  “Ok.”  She glances down at her phone again to check the time.  Just under seven hours to go.  It’s more than enough time.  She’ll be fine.  

Nat considers bolting across the tiny studio to crack the window and air the place out, but her stomach drops again, and she knows she won’t make it in time.  Oh well.  Just another thing to do later, then.  Along with cleaning up.  Getting dressed.  Readying the disaster of an apartment for favorite unwanted houseguest.  

Because for fuck’s sake, it’s not supposed to happen this way. 

#nat on fire #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #Black Widow #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #captain america #steve rogers #eating disorders #ed tw #laxitives #emeto #emetophilia #illumivomi #hurt/comfort

[darling-i-fancy-you]

A Brief Moment - Romione Fanfic

Author Note: Wow, I haven’t written Romione fanfiction for about 7 years. Since then I have finished High School, and College and graduated University. But for some reason I have just had the bug for some writing recently, I mean I haven’t written anything in almost a year or maybe even two so what better way that jump back in with some writing for my first ever ship! Not Beta Read or even really proof read as I’ve written this for myself more than anyone else - I don’t even think I have any or many Romione fans who read my blog!

Anyway a bit of a pre-fix for this fic, this is in the realm of ‘What If That Kiss Never Happened?’ And Hermione goes off to Hogwarts and the two idiots continue to pine for each other and it gets on Harry and Ginny’s nerves! 

Enjoy!

The train carriages pushed and pulled around the bends of the Northern landscape, a bushy haired, bright young woman wrought together her hands in nervous anticipation. She gnawed and nibbled on the soft skin of her bottom lip and the swell of the fear of not knowing lay heavily in her chest.

‘Hermione,’ an exasperated young ginger girl sighed, ‘he’s going to be there.’

Ginny placed her head against the cool window pane. Lambs, horses and calfs flew past her in fast blinks as the old steam train picked up speed through the vast green scenery. The two girls were halfway home and for good this time. Their time at Hogwarts had officially ended and this was their last train journey home from the magnificent Scottish castle, a place that they had called a home away from home for so many years. 

‘What?’ Hermione startled at Ginny’s words. 

‘Ron.’ She said, ‘Of course he’s going to be there.’

Hermione huffed in defiance.

‘Gin, I-’ she began, however what the intended end to the sentence was she wasn’t quite sure. 

‘He’ll be waiting for you.’ Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘Like he always is. Why can’t you two just figure it all out?’

Hermione cheeks flushed, she would love to pretend that she had no idea what Ginny was implying but she had to agree that it was getting quite ridiculous. All the pussyfooting around each other during the holidays, the coy looks and shy smiles, the gifts that were almost too meaningful - a personalised diary with her initials embossed in golden script and a Chudley Cannons poster, signed by the whole team, as a favour for the girl who helped to save the Wizarding World. 

‘It’s complicated.’ Hermione said quietly. 

Ginny’s laugh barked from her mouth.

‘Just grab the daft pillock by the scruff of his shirt and give him a good snog, Hermione. I don’t think it’ll be all that complicated after that.’

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the smiling ginger girl. Her face held a familiar mischievous look, like one she had seen on her brother many times before throughout the years. Hermione took in a sharp breath through her nose, rolled her shoulders and straightened her back. 

‘If anything were to happen Gin, then he would have to make the first move.’ She said with finality in her voice. ‘I can’t put myself out there with him again.’

She thought back to the Yule Ball and how she had secretly waited for as long as she could for him to show just a little bit of interest in her. When Victor approached her the week before the ball and asked her to accompany him she could hardly refuse, there was no sign that anyone else was willing to ask her anytime soon. She also thought back to Slughorn’s Party and what a disaster that had turned in to, she just couldn’t face that kind of heartache again.

The summer before Hermione and Ginny came back to Hogwarts, the summer immediately after the war, she had toyed with the idea of making her feelings known to Ron. However, grief took precedence over love and the more time she had to think, the more conclusions and scenarios she drew. 

Perhaps the feelings she had for Ron were simply heightened due to her own grief or the sense of relief she had from surviving the war, or perhaps she only felt this way due to the amount of time they spent together day in and day out. Would she still love him if they didn’t spend every day together like they had done for the past eight years?

The answer was yes. 

Perhaps she loved him even more so than when she left for Hogwarts. The constant ache in her chest every day that she was away from him, a pain that only subsided when in his presence confirmed this. If he was at the train station, waiting for her, surely that had to mean something didn’t it? She needed it to mean something but most of all she needed him to tell her that.

---

‘Mate, what do you think is gonna happen?’ Harry smirked. ‘The train just isn’t going to turn up?’

Ron rolled on the balls of his feet, his hands shoved deep down into his trouser pockets that hid his nails that had been bitten down in nervous worry. A deep flush ran down the back of his neck and behind his ears, he knew he was being ridiculous by straining his neck down the platform in search of a train that he knew was only due to appear in the next fifteen minutes. 

His emotions swirled together in the pit of his stomach, nervous, excited and shitting himself all at once. She was going to be back for good, he could see her everyday if he wanted to - well if she wanted to. 

Would she be happy to see him? 

Or confused? 

Would she even care?

‘Shut up.’ Ron muttered ‘Prat.’

Harry was loving this, he could tell. The smugness rolled from his smile as he watched his best friend shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his neck constantly snapping to the large black clock that counted down the minutes. 

He wasn’t arsed anymore, he knew it was obvious to everyone - the way he looked at her on Christmas morning as they opened presents or how he followed her from room to room at the Burrow for the entire week, just needing to soak up as much time as he could with her over the holidays. He was so hopelessly in love with her that it ached in his heart and consumed him daily. 

‘You going to say something to her?’ Harry asked, a sincerity in his voice.

For all of his teasing over the past few years, he honestly just wanted to knock their heads together and tell them to get a move on. 

‘I don’t know.’ Ron replied honestly. 

It wasn’t the first time Ron had admitted to Harry how he felt, that had come shortly after the girls had left for school, hours after they had waved them off on the old steam train for their final year. He had found Ron sitting at the dining table in Grimmauld Place, his chin resting on his knuckles and his expression blank. 

‘I love her.’ He said as though the realisation had only just dawned on him.

Harry had given him the same sad smile he was giving him now and asked the same question. 

The whistle of the train howled in the distance, Ron inhaled deeply.

---

The train came to a steady stop and at once the carriage aisles filled with the bustle of Hogwarts students of various years, ages and sizes. There was a flurry of voices and laughter, children saying goodbye to their school friends until September rolled around again, solemn Seventh Years bid farewell to the train itself that had taken them to and forth the castle wherein they had spent some of the best and worst times of the young life. 

Hermione and Ginny moved slowly, gathering their trunks from the racking above them for the last time. Each movement was meaningful as they took in their surroundings, feeling nostalgic for a life they had both lived. Hermione wouldn’t deny that she may have also been trying to delay the inevitable. 

He would either be there or he would not. She was finding it almost impossible to contain her emotions, preemptive tears glistened in her eyes as she reached for the sliding carriage door and made her way out into the busy aisle. 

---

It suddenly dawned on Ron how thankful he was for his height as he watched as Harry struggled to crane his neck over the swell of students that had swarmed onto the platform. Ron could easily see above their heads, what he couldn’t see however was the two heads he was looking for, the fiery long hair of sister and his favourite set of chocolate curls that undoubtedly belonged to Hermione Granger. 

‘Where is she, where is she?’ He muttered to himself. 

He started to push through the crowd, he glided easily as though he was wading through water. He wasn’t sure what he would do or say when he saw her, he just hoped that when he saw her he would know. 

‘Ron!’ Harry called from behind him, lost in the crowd of people that were eyeing him with awe and admiration. ‘They’re over there!’

Harry was pointing to the far end of the train, he saw his sister first who was eagerly scanning the crowd in search of The Boy Who Lived. Then there she was, her head bent down slightly and focused more on navigating her trunk down to the train platform. It was only when Ginny grabbed at her arm and pointed in his direction that she looked up.

---

‘There!’ Ginny smiled and darted off into the crowd, abandoning her trunk in favour of reaching her boyfriend.

Looking up Hermione’s watering eyes met with that of smiling - no beaming, Ronald Weasley. She matched his smile and let out a gasp of a laugh. What had she been so worried about, of course he was going to be here, he always would be. 

Hermione joined Ginny in abandoning her trunk and started to make way through the crowd.

---

Ron picked up his pace as he noticed Hermione had started to move in his direction, he pushed aside what had been this year's First Years and ignored the whispers of recognition for who he was. He didn’t care, he couldn’t care. All that mattered right now was that Hermione was making her way to him and he was mad with happiness. 

Once within a couple of feet of each other they stopped, hesitantly.

‘Hi.’ Hermione sighed with relief.

‘Hi.’ Ron echoed.

They both stared at each other, beaming smiles subsiding to something gentler, a look of hope and longing laced with uncertainty and fear of all the things they had never said to each other. 

Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to say something but the words wouldn’t come. Ron’s words however, did.

‘I’ve missed you.’ He confessed. ‘More than what’s probably normal to miss someone who-’ 

‘Isn’t your girlfriend.’ Is what he wanted to say but the words fell short and he fell silent. 

‘I’ve missed you too.’ Hermione whispered. ‘A lot.’

The tears that had been gathering in Hermione’s eyes were now dangerously threatening to spill down her cheeks, she was relieved of course that he was here but for some reason the ache in her stomach had only gotten worse. 

At the tears in her eyes a concerned Ron pulled her at her arm and tucked her into a hug.

‘C’mere,’ he whispered into her hair with a slight laugh, ‘you alright? I wasn’t that bad of a surprise to see was I?’ He joked.

Hermione shook her head and buried deeper into his chest, the tears were starting to spill now and she didn’t want anybody seeing her cry on Platform 9 ¾.

‘No,’ came a muffled reply, ‘you were a brilliant surprise.’

She sniffled and pulled her head away from him, quickly pulling up her hands to wipe away the stray tears. Her cheeks were flushed red from the embarrassment of crying in public and the mixture of emotions that swelled through her body.

Ron looked down at her, from this close he could count the freckles that sat on her nose. Her doe like eyes glanced back up at him, the gentle gaze in them sent a hot flush down his neck that he was sure she would be able to see. His tongue swept over his own lips before her name fell from them.

‘’Mione.’ His throat was hoarse all of sudden like everything deep down inside of him had bubbled up and left a knot right in his throat. 

The breath from him saying her name danced over the apples of her cheeks, his face was serious now. An expression she had never really seen on his face before, and it was a face that she had studied relentlessly throughout school, even more so than she had Hogwarts: A History. 

His adam’s apple bobbed tellingly in his throat. 

Word’s just wouldn’t do now, how could eight years of growing friendship and love and sometimes heartache be summed up with any combination of words. 

Ron’s head dipped, slowly and cautiously, as Hermione’s head tilted upwards with that same timid speed. 

And for a moment there was no crowd bustling past them, and there was no steam train whistling or groaning, in fact Platform 9 ¾ ceased to exist altogether for one brief shining moment as their lips touched for the very first time.

#Romione #Romione Fanfic #Side: Hinny #Harry Potter Fanfic #Hermione Granger #Ron Weasley #Ginny Weasley #Harry Potter #My Fanfic

[bornpariah-a]

@inquistior​ :  ❝  this is not harmless. you are not breathing.  ❞ —— SIKEN.

        ❝   I think you’ll find I am breathing, now, rendering that argument rather unsubstantiated,   ❞   he’s well aware of just how tart he sounds at the moment, thank you very much, though the knowledge thereof does little to alleviate the vague hint of exasperated annoyance that’s woven into the words. It’s the truth, besides : HE IS BREATHING, whereas mere moments ago he hadn’t been, or his body had been in some way, shape, or form. Dorian wasn’t entirely clear on the specifics of what became of his body whenever his simulacrum would make its appearance in battle, merely that time became fuzzy and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

        Funny, how time is capable of doing that.

        ... Or maybe terrifying is more apt a phrase.

        Ah, but his glibness does him no credit as Cassandra once said to him, and while he likes to think that his glibness does him quite a bit of credit indeed, the concerted expression with which Halwn is considering him with says otherwise in this very moment. He supposes that from an outsider’s perspective, it is rather alarming to fall in battle and have a spirit take your form, though Dorian hadn’t quite counted on Halwn noticing that he had, effectively, DIED.

        Foolish, on his part. The man somehow noticed anything and everything in his surroundings with an aptness that would make a great deal of the Imperium weep with envy. It’s his ability to watch and absorb and therefore understand that makes him quite fascinating ( beyond the obvious ) and Dorian would never dare underestimate him. Except in this, he supposes. Well, he could have given him better warning, really, though the theory on his dying when the spirit does take his form in the physical realm is... technical. His body ceases to live and his heart may stop beating, but that’s all par for the course when it comes to death magick.

        Dorian lifts his hand to run his fingers through his hair beneath Halwn’s heavy gaze and pauses / makes a face at the stiffness and remnants of death’s chill in his extremities, and flexes his fingers. They refuse to move, for a moment, and he’s thoroughly aware of the Inquisitor taking note of all of these things, as if he hadn’t seen it dozens of times before. Dorian’s not exactly shy by nature, and even less so when it comes to his magick.

        ❝   Do stop looking at me like that, Halwn,   ❞   he says with no small amount of mirth, though with a certain steady undercurrent to his tone that he doesn’t often employ. Such a thing that says : leave it be, therefore leaving little room for argument. Magick is dangerous ——— magick is also wondrous, and the very same could be said for necromancy, and no amount of concerned frowns nor woe begotten expressions nor worried hands hovering over his ( TEMPORARILY, mind you ) dead body would convince him otherwise.

        Messing with time was one thing. Transient transference of souls to best utilize magick and maintain steady control of a battle was another.

        ❝   Yes, alright, perhaps it’s not harmless for the inexperienced necromancer and could end badly, to say the least, but I’m well aware of what I am doing,   ❞   he runs his fingers through his hair, finally, pushing back the strands that had fallen out of place through the tide of the fight and, most of all, from his temporary unconsciousness and stint in the beyond. Dorian looks at Halwn steadily, tilting his head back to meet his gaze properly, that same intent expression, mouth pulled downwards into a frown. What a harrowing expression, so very dour, so very serious !! As if the idea of Dorian dying in any way, shape, or form were unacceptable ——— the concept was unacceptable in this very moment, mind you, Dorian didn’t fear death but didn’t much appreciate the thought of joining it preemptively, but he’s well aware of the breadth, depth, and thorough meaning of that look, besides. He’d have to be utterly oblivious to miss it.

        And Dorian can’t be oblivious by nature.

        It isn’t merely an inconvenience or standard concern about a soldier dying, though he’s certain that Halwn is just as fond as anyone dying as he would be of Dorian dying, it’s specifically Dorian dying. Ceasing breathing, body going cold, et cetera.

        ❝   It’s a practical use of the spirits which linger near me to aid in battle while I am otherwise indisposed. My spirit crosses into the Fade like any dying soul tends to, but I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back,   ❞   it’s an easy explanation, a rather simplified yet complicated way of confirming that, yes, he does stop breathing and his body stops functioning for however long the spirit remains in the physical plane, which of course does little to lift the expression from Halwn’s face. He didn’t really expect it to, anyways. Dorian leans into his staff, head tilting as he smiles, so utterly without brevity, up at that handsome face.   ❝   You needn’t be short one mage, after all.   ❞

        He reaches out for him, an impulsive movement that he gives into easily enough given that they are, relatively speaking, alone for the time being. ( the others count but they don’t and they’re paying attention, he doesn’t dare presume otherwise, but there is a certain level of expectation, at this rate ) Reaches out and up / wipes a smear of blood from his cheek, warm healing magick sparking for a moment before his hand drops / he takes a step away / smile turning to a grin turning to something like a smirk.

        ❝   You can think of it as myself looking out for you from beyond the grave if you’d prefer, Inquisitor,   ❞   he says with a superfluous half—bow, broad and dramatic per usual, staff twisting in his hand as he turns, graceful per usual.   ❝   Ever at your service.   ❞

        The tips of his fingers are still numb / his lungs stiff. Ah well. If nothing else, he’s perfectly capable of appreciating the singularity of Halwn’s undivided attention ( even if he’s boldly ignoring the quiet fear exhaling through his body alongside it. )

#inquistior #ask. #[ leave it to the death mage to be so thoroughly blasé about ] #[ how frequently he dies. or well. sort of dies. ] #[ anyways haha hal expressing worry and care ] #[ meanwhile dorian's dodging that shit like mad ]

[theorynexus]

On the 45th note, we now dwell

Before we continue, I would just like to say:  The vagaries of going back and reading the beginning of Homestuck again hath resulted in the following--- my awareness that Echidna is not actually the Denizen associated with Light. Whoops.   What a silly mistake to make, on my part.

That said: Obviously, this does not discourage me from considering potential player evolution in that direction to have been A Thing~   ***shrugs***

~~~

Good luck with that. If there is one thing that never ceases to be true about mortals, it is that amongst them dwell random assortments of fools, spread judiciously and capriciously throughout the population. These seem particularly wont to come out of the woodwork when it comes to periods of great political energy. After all, those with the strongest opinions don’t necessarily have to be the most intelligent or informed people; nor do they have to be filled with civic virtue, honor, dignity, or restraint; yet, quite often, it is just such highly ideological, stubborn individuals who have the most energy and passion to engage with the political world unfolding before them.

The irony of this is just absolutely dripping from the Narrator’s words. Particularly poignant, it is, insofar as their accusation dodges the question of what law and government are for in the first place:  Not only is the general interest of the population not served by creating such repressive laws as Jane Crocker seems to have in mind, but beyond this, it is likely to be highly inflammatory and result in the potential outbreak of just such violence as the ridiculous preemptive action being contemplated is designed to prevent. Particularly, when one is speaking about a representative republic of such a diverse population as Earth C’s, the interests of all parties involved must be adequately balanced, and their equal capacity to live in such a manner that the basic liberties associated with their propagation and the general course of their life (as in this case differentially prescribed by their different natures) must be preserved in order to have a stable social system. The legitimacy of any government is dependent upon it actively upholding the status of the population over which it rules as citizens with respected rights and equal treatment under the law. Especially in a system wherein a presidential executive acts as the head of state, the systematic oppression of a significant portion of the population on such a basic level as the removal of reproductive agency actively undermines the government, weakens the rule of law, and sews the seeds of conflict between the oppressed and their oppressors.  In this way, a belief that their “personal interpretation of [morality] will result in effective laws” may not be justifiable in and of itself; yet that belief reflects the very real fact that the laws that they are principally opposing (since this is an opposition campaign, and not one with active goals that they, themselves are espousing) will most certainly be ineffective toward their intended end, and will most likely (if implemented) result in the catastrophic weakening of laws already in place+the general rule and administration of the regime that attempts to establish such restrictive new laws in the first place. Of course, this assumes that the intent on Jane/The Narrator (formerly Dirk [in ego])’s part is not that the regime becomes dictatorial, and thereby attempts to bypass the restrictions and advantages which come from a consent-based system wherein the general good can be sought effectively (should there be competent and at least only partially corrupt officials in place).          If in fact the intent has been, from the beginning, to create a regime involving the suppression of the masses and the subversion of their interests in favor of the supreme leader which will have taken the reigns of power, then that is an entirely different matter. In such a case, the likelihood of war exponentially increases, given the fact that violence is necessary to ensure the compliance and passivity of the masses under the “president”’s heel, and people in general, especially in populations with a long history of popular representation and liberty, don’t tend to willingly lose their will for defiance in the face of such malevolence. 

And, as Homestuck is wont to do, tragedy is juxtaposed with the inescapable force of massive witticism. And also asses. Or at least arses. More seriously: Kanaya acting as a representative of a desire for unity among the species and liberty for all is not a bad idea (albeit some humans may suspect she is biased, considering her position, and refuse to credit her with an impartial-thus-believable voice in such matters).    Very important: THAT’S THE POWER OF HOPE, BABY!

This is quite the (politically) appealing and amusing concept.  Very clever.

Dave can be dumb as a sack of bricks, sometimes. I guess that is a vaguely valid question, though, considering the fact that their inter-species romance has no precedence in at least human recollection, and I am sure they are clever enough together to figure out/have figured out some sort of option, there.   Of course, they were in talks about adoption instead, so I guess maybe they didn’t want to risk trying something uncertain like that.   ***shrugs*** 

I know very much how Karkat feels, here.

HA!

SUDDENLY, THE DRAMATIC TENSION CRANKS UP TO 11!!!

Before, again, Hussie very characteristically works to de-escalate things. This is just absolutely beautiful, especially with the repetition in the last lines.

How very interesting, that the Narrator still appears to think of themselves as individual and probably as Dirk.  This is in fact a rather strange situation, indeed. It feels as if it clashes with a bit of the foreshadowing and setup dealt out earlier, if that is the reality of the situation. Hmm.

I have always appreciated her wisdom and tact.  In other news: We are now approaching a bit of a testing point!   Time to see if in fact the Narrator does hold that identity in their heart, still! Or we can just skip to a different scene, as Homestuck is wont to do, and has been since Act 1′s last parts, and then especially Act 2.

You’d think that, as the Narrator, he’d be able to keep that in mind and then just relay the information later. Gosh, why so linear?

I wonder if Kanaya will be able to put the pieces together.  That should honestly make things quite clear, if she calms down for just a second. I mean, she has been talking to Rose about these sorts of issues for some time, now.

#Political Philosophy #Homestuck Spoilers #State Building #Homestuck Epilogue #Homestuck Liveblog

[tacittherapist]

We open on a familiar scene: Rose perusing media on her laptop. Yes, she’s doing the narration thing and concurrently performing the actions described within the narration. Don’t judge her. If a certain pointy-spectacled too-much-hairspray anime blowhard can do it, so can a depressed goth nerd. Some semblance of rain pours outside: a faint cloud of cosmic dust they’re passing through pelts her windows with sawdust-sized particles. Her eyes glaze over as she goes through her old chat logs.

tacitTherapist [TT] started trolling carcinoGenetics [CG].

TT: Karkat. Let’s talk. I know you have time because I’m currently watching you sitting on a couch in the aftermath of yet another homoerotic tussle with Dave.

CG: ‘HOMOEROTIC’ YET AGAIN MEANS NOTHING HERE YOU RUSTPANNED SHITWEASEL.

TT: I’ve been thinking lately.

CG: OH, REALLY? WOW!! INCREDIBLE LALONDE, YOU MIGHT BE ONTO SOMETHING THERE.

TT: Don’t interrupt me. I’ve been thinking about our situation.

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘OUR SITUATION?’ ‘OUR SITUATION’ AS IN HOW THIS ENTIRE FUCKING STRUCTURE IS IN LITERAL AND METAPHORICAL SHAMBLES?

CG: LET’S PUT ASIDE THE NEAR CONSTANT ANTAGONIZING BY DAVE’S PREPUBESCENT THINLY-VEILED WAILS FOR HELP CLEANING UP HIS OWN OVERFLOWING SPIRITUAL WASTEPANTS AND PERHAPS ADDRESS THE FACT THAT YOU AND MARYAM HAVEN’T SPOKEN FOR OVER THE EQUIVALENT OF SEVERAL WEEKS?

CG: NOT TO MENTION TEREZI IS STILL MISSING, ALONG WITH A SMALL PORTION OF OUR EVER DWINDLING RATIONS THAT YOU POMPOUS GODTIER SHITSTAINS APPARENTLY STILL PILFER DESPITE NOT EVER NEEDING TO EAT.

CG: OH, AND THERE’S A HOMICIDAL CLOWN LOOSE IN THE VENTS. THERE’S THAT TOO.

TT: Yes, all of those things are items I considered.

CG: OH GREAT. FUCKING GREAT. LET ME GUESS, YOU’VE CONJURED ANOTHER CRACKPAN SCHEME TO SOMEHOW MAGICALLY -- SORRY, ‘MAJJJJJJYYYYKLY’ WHISK ALL OF THIS SHIT AWAY?

TT: No. Our situation is bleak, Karkat.

CG: COLOR ME FUCKING SURPRISED. OUR SITUATION IS BLEAK? HOLY SHIT LALONDE, I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS WHAT YOU SPENT DAYS IN ISOLATION FORMULATING IN THAT ALL-SEEING MIND OF YOURS.

TT: I do have a proposition. And if you’d be kind enough to quit hammering your clumsy sausage fingers upon that poor phone for even a second, you might even get something from this conversation.

CG: ...

TT: Ellipses wholly unnecessary Karkat. Take your fingers off the buttons.

TT: I have a plan to alleviate our circumstances. It’s risky, but better than sitting here for another few years.

TT: Yes, I know you use sweeps and I’m a totalitarian bigot for not using it here.

CG: YOU PREEMPTIVELY ADDRESSING IT DOESN’T MAKE IT LESS TRUE.

TT: Karkat. Fingers off the buttons or I magically disassemble your phone again, and this time I won’t help you reinstall the macro you use specifically to hide Dave’s long rambling text walls about the economy.

TT: Now then, I haven’t received a vision in several months. I can only presume this means the game is testing my mettle by withholding this power from me.

TT: After weighing the factors behind our predicament, I’ve ascertained that there are two latent states to our position, and the game in general.

TT: Moving and stillness. There exist no states outside of those two. Both a successful and a doomed session move; they may only take on the states of ‘successful’ and ‘doomed’ after having progressed to their ultimate conclusion, after all. A null session, by contrast, stands still. Forever locked into a state that is neither successful nor doomed.

TT: If we were to translate our position into one of these two states, we would be null. This is arguably worse than a doomed session, as demonstrated by the slow malaise gradually overtaking everyone’s moods for the past few months.

TT: Obviously we missed our target somehow. Whether by some small deviation in our course, or a slight miscalculation by Sollux, we are definitely not reunited with Jade and John, who were supposed to have crossed paths with us some months ago.

TT: So instead of sitting here, waiting for one of us to miraculously drift into the other, I propose we recalculate our trajectory.

CG: HOW. IF YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED, SOLLUX FUCKED OFF TO TRAIPSE ABOUT THE AFTERLIFE OR AFTER HALFLIFE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK KIND OF NOT DEATH NOT LIFE THING HE HAS GOING ON WITH MEGIDO. SO WE’RE A LITTLE SHORT ON TELEKINETIC POWERS TO GIVE US ANOTHER PUSH.

TT: Incredibly telling that you refer to everyone by first name when you hold more affection for them over everyone else. It’s really not subtle here, Karkat.

CG: FUCK YOU.

TT: Yes, we no longer have psychic powers at our disposals. But I’ve done some detailed calculations on our current path and where we need to be.

TT: There are a number of small cosmic bodies about to pass us. If we simply jump onto one in particular, we should be able to correct our course and meet up with the others to get our session restarted.

CG: IS THAT WHY ALL OUR NAPKINS HAD INANE CLUCKSCRATCH ON THEM?

TT: Yes, but no more inane chickenscratch than all the penises you and Dave drew on them.

CG: OBVIOUSLY YOU KNOW I CAN’T GO ALONG WITH THIS.

TT: Why not?

CG: WELL FIRST, I’M NOT ABOUT TO TRUST NAPKIN MATH. SECOND, IF THIS ISN’T A ONE HUNDRED FUCKING PERCENT CONFIRMED THEORY, I WON’T CHANCE OUR MORTAL LIVES ON A HUNCH THAT YOU GODTIER ASSHOLES FIGURED MIGHT HELP US STARVE TO DEATH EVEN FASTER.

TT: Dave has no hand in this. You’re the first person I’m telling.

CG: WAIT, WHY?

TT: Because I need you to get everyone on board. You’re still the de-facto leader.

CG: THAT’S A LOAD OF HORSESHIT AND YOU KNOW IT.

TT: Your continued denial of this simple fact is more evidence to the contrary.

CG: SO WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO SINCERELY PEDDLE THIS IDEA THAT WE JUST HOP OFF OUR HOME FOR THE PAST TWO SWEEPS BANKING ON THE HOPE THAT WE JUST MEET UP WITH EGBERT AND HARLEY?

TT: Well yes, but I was thinking you’d make it a bit more palatable to everyone else. That’s more your specialty than mine.

CG: YOU REALLY HAVE TO BE FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW. ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WITH ME. THE VERBAL DIARRHEA COMING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH RIGHT NOW CANNOT BE GENUINE.

TT: We’re both typing on phones right now Karkat.

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT I FUCKING MEAN, ASSHOLE. IF YOU CAN’T EVEN CONVINCE ME THIS WILL WORK, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I CAN CONVINCE EVERYONE ELSE IT WILL? YOU’RE REALLY NOT GIVING ME THE HARD SALE HERE.

TT: I know this, but please just hear me out. Our food will run out in three weeks at most, and that’s if both Dave and I curb the hunger pangs with something else to distract us. Yes, we won’t die, but you will likely suffer more antagonizing at the hands of a Hungry Dave.

CG: NEVER. *EVER*. ****EVER****. CAPITALIZE HUNGRY BEFORE DAVE LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN.

TT: Deal. On the condition you get everyone else on board.

CG: NO DEAL. FUCK YOU AND FUCK THIS DEAL. YOUR PLAN IS A FAT LOAD OF SHIT AND I REFUSE TO EVEN CONSIDER THIS A LEGITIMATE CONVERSATION GIVEN YOU’VE BEEN HOLDING ME AT METAPHORICAL GUNPOINT THIS ENTIRE TIME. I DON’T MAKE DEALS WITH TERRORISTS, LALONDE.

TT: If you could drop the performative morality shtick Dave has been foisting on you for just a moment, what exactly could I say to change your mind? Perhaps you’ll feel differently in two weeks when we’re down to our last few loaves of alchemized bread?

CG: ...

TT: Tell me, does a large ‘JUST’ or ‘HEROIC’ sign pop up when mortals die? I’ve personally never seen it before, but I imagine of the four of your twelve original session remaining, at least one of you must have seen a non-ascended death. Do you think starvation counts as just or heroic? I mean, Dave and I are precluded because the ascension really did remove our need to eat, but maybe if we find one of your quest beds on this desolate laboratory, we might be able to spare at least one of you from eating the others in desperation.

CG: FINE. FUCKING FINE. YOU’VE TWISTED MY ARM. YES, METAPHORICALLY, SHUT THE FUCK UP. I’LL MAKE A DEAL.

TT: Good. Your terms?

CG: YOU HAVE TO GET MARYAM ON BOARD FIRST. IF YOU CAN DO THAT, I’LL TAKE CARE OF CONVINCING THE OTHERS.

tacitTherapist [TT] has stopped trolling carcinoGenetics [CG].

carcinoGenetics [CG started trolling tacitTherapist [TT].

CG: HEY. WHAT THE FUCK?

TT: My finger slipped.

CG: NO IT DID NOT YOU AGGRANDIZING FUCKHOLE.

TT: Did you just call me a ‘fuckhole’?

CG: I’M TIRED AND HUNGRY, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

CG: WHY DID YOU ABRUPTLY CLOSE THE WINDOW.

TT: I don’t know if I can convince Kanaya.

CG: WHY’S THAT? THIS IS THE PERFECT FUCKING CHANCE FOR YOU TWO TO FINALLY TALK. I THOUGHT THIS WOULD ACTUALLY BE EASY FOR YOU.

TT: It’s not that simple.

CG: OHHH WELL EXCUSE ME FOR GETTING MYSELF ENTANGLED IN THIS COMPLEX HUMAN MATING RITUAL. YOU HAVE TO FORGIVE ME IF I JUST MAKE SNIPPY REMARKS EVERY CHANCE I GET WITH CONTEXTLESS DESCRIPTORS THAT ARBITRARILY DESCRIBE YOUR GENDERS.

TT: It’s just not a good time.

CG: HOLY SHIT. YOU THINK IT’S NOT A GOOD TIME? REALLY? WELL I GUESS WE’VE ALL JUST BEEN PLAY ACTING A FOOD AND GRIST SHORTAGE FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS. HA HA, WHAT A FUNNY AND ELABORATE PRANK WE’VE ALL BEEN PLAYING ON OURSELVES THIS ENTIRE FUCKING TIME.

TT: I mean it’s not a good time to bring this up with her. I’m still sorting out where I stand with her and how I should approach this.

CG: FOR ALL THE “”““CALCULATIONS”“““ YOU JUST PULLED ON ME JUST MOMENTS AGO, SUDDENLY YOU CAN’T NAVIGATE YOUR OWN STUPID IDIOT EMOTIONS?

CG: WOW. JUST WOW. YOU KNOW, DESPITE HER TOTALLY BONEHEADED APPROACH TO VIRTUALLY *EVERYTHING* AT LEAST JADE KNEW HOW TO TACKLE THINGS HEAD-ON. MAYBE WE DO NEED HER HERE RIGHT NOW, IN SOME TWISTED CATCH-22 MOBIUS DOUBLE REACH AROUND AS ALWAYS.

TT: I can convince Dave.

CG: SO CAN A BOTTLE OF FUCKING CIDER.

TT: I mean that as a counter offer. If I convince Dave, you convince the others.

CG: NO DEAL. NOW THE FOOT COVERING IS ON THE OTHER LEGSTUMP, EH LALONDE?

TT: You just used ‘foot’ in the same sentence as ‘legstump’.

CG: YEAH AND I’LL SHOVE MINE STRAIGHT UP YOUR POLYESTER-SWADDLED ASS IF YOU TRY ANY MORE NEGOTIATION. THIS IS MY ULTIMATUM. IF YOU REALLY BELIEVE IN THIS PLAN OF YOURS, IT HAS TO AT LEAST HOLD CONVICTION STRONGER THAN YOUR REFUSAL TO FACE YOUR OWN EMOTIONAL TURMOIL WITH MARYAM.

CG: GET KANAYA ON YOUR SIDE, OR NO DEAL. FINAL OFFER.

TT: ...

TT: Fine. I’ll see what I can do.

CG: GOOD LUCK. SINCERELY THOUGH, LET ME KNOW HOW IT GOES.

TT: Thanks. I told Dave you were talking shit just now, by the way. You should make yourself scarce unless you want an hour-long lecture about how gossip is destroying society and by extension the economy.

CG: FUCK YOU. BYE.

carcinoGenetics [CG has stopped trolling tacitTherapist [TT].

#long post #pesterlogs

[beveragezine]

Urgent Announcement

Hello, everyone.

I am a moderator that was recruited by the original head mod and admin for this project to handle marketing, promotion, and organization for the Beverage Zine. While I do have an online alias I usually go by, for the purposes of this post I will call myself Tea. I am here today with some unfortunate news: the Beverage Zine will be put on hold until mid or late spring of 2019, perhaps even later than that. The original admin no longer appears to be a part of this project, so I, Tea, will be taking over in their place. However, there are complicated circumstances and real life situations that will prevent me from immediately assuming the reins. I will explain the reasons for this in this post below the cut, and I ask that you read all of it before responding or asking questions.

Thank you in advance.

I want to preface this by saying that I have included screenshots of my conversation(s) and that of others (with their permission) to back up my claims. Names have been censored and replaced with pseudonyms to maintain privacy. These images can be accessed via the Imgur link at the bottom of this post.

Please do not go and witch hunt the original admin or anyone else involved; I do not wish anything ill of them. I want to stress that this is not meant to be a call out post or anything of the sort to stir up drama; I am simply reporting what I understand to have happened and why things ended up as they are now.

I understand that there may be some distrust with all of this coming out of the blue, but I want nothing more than to be 100% transparent with the people that support this zine, as it is a project that I, too, had greatly looked forward to. Okay. Let’s truly begin.

I originally heard about the Beverage Zine through a fellow moderator for another project. I became interested in moderating for the Beverage Zine, so I sent an ask to their Tumblr blog to inquire about mod applications. To my surprise, the head mod for the Beverage Zine (whom I shall refer to as Bev) almost immediately messaged my personal Tumblr and suggested that they interview me for a position. Since I had free time at the moment, I agreed and the interview began. The questions were all pretty standard and pertained to my past experience with moderating zines. Bev seemed impressed by my responses and, once again to my surprise, they were quick to offer me a moderator position. They expressed to me that they had little to no experience with zines and was seeking very experienced moderators to help them.

Now, I did think it was a little strange at first because the Beverage Zine sounded like a big project for someone who has no experience heading a zine. However, I had been a newbie at some point too and sympathized with the difficulty of getting one’s foot in the door, as many zines are competitive nowadays. Bev seemed friendly and eager to learn, so I did not mind assisting with the project and offering advice based on my experience. Additionally, I was extremely excited about this project, as I had actually pitched the idea for a beverage gijinka zine to my friends a few months back, and had even sketched concept ideas for zine mascots during the frenzy.

In short, I was enamored with the zine theme and wanted to help mentor Bev, so I accepted the offer. Bev soon invited me to the Beverage Zine Tumblr blog and promoted me to admin. I was also invited to join the Beverage Zine Discord server (of which Bev and I were the only inhabitants) to further discuss planning.

Bev then proceeded to make a zine Twitter account and a moderator application form to do the rest of their mod recruiting, instructing me to not fill out the form. I was not given access to the Google forms/email or to the Twitter account at this point. The next day, I realized that I could no longer access the Beverage Zine Discord server-Bev had booted me without a word and had also quietly left the Beverage Zine blog, leaving me as the only admin.

It was around this time that a friend and a co-mod of mine (let’s call them Wendy) expressed distress concerning the Hanakotoba zine (the one regarding flowers and their meanings). According to Wendy, Bev was also moderating Hanakotoba and had recruited a team of 4 moderators via interview to put the project together. However, in the middle of planning, Bev suddenly informed her Hanakotoba mod team that they were opening mod applications to the public and that the current mods had to reapply to maintain their positions. Of course, the mods were upset that they had already done so much work for the zine, only to be randomly stripped of their positions. To my knowledge, though Bev promised to not reuse anyone’s work, there are claims that they are continuing to use the assets these Hanakotoba mods provided for them for their various other projects. For example, Wendy claims the mod application form they are using at the moment is a template Wendy herself made. Another dropped mod claims that Bev is using an FAQ template that she made. I cannot personally verify these claims with photo evidence. Bev appears to have blocked those that questioned her publicly about dropping their Hanakotoba mod team on the zine’s Twitter account and is refusing to respond to concerns and questions.

Wendy told Bev she would tell others to be wary of them because of their behavior in the Hanakotoba Zine and other projects. Bev responded by telling Wendy that they understood, but then it looks like they blocked Wendy. I assume that from there, Bev kicked me from their Beverage Zine server and left the Tumblr account for the project.

To clarify, I was never told by Bev that they would be abandoning this project, they seem to have assumed I would drop the Beverage Zine once I heard of their behavior (which I honestly would have), so they made the preemptive move to leave before I did. On my end, it appeared as though Bev had kicked me out of Discord and ghosted me for no reason that I could discern had it not been for Wendy and the other dropped Hanakotoba mods clarifying things for me.

Because I had not anticipated any of this to happen, nor do I have a way to get back into that server, I do not have any screenshots from the Beverage Zine Discord server to provide. If you are wondering why I did not try other avenues of contact to reach Bev, it’s because they never provided any initially. The majority of my contact with Bev was done via messaging between my personal Tumblr account and their Beverage Zine account, and because I am not friends on Discord with Bev and no longer share any servers with Bev, I cannot contact them. Wendy used to know what Bev’s social media accounts were, but they were all deleted shortly after I was booted from the Beverage Zine Discord server.

Recently, I was messaged by Bev from their personal Tumblr account. In their messages, they apologized for their behavior, asked to rejoin the project, and offered to give me the login information for the Beverage Zine Twitter and email account if I chose to not let them back in. I politely informed Bev that I was uncomfortable with having them as a moderator for the Beverage Zine, and they accepted my decision.

As of this current moment in time, I have claimed ownership of the project Twitter and email, changed the passwords, and said my farewells to Bev, wishing them the best.

Like I previously stated, I am still very much interested in this project despite the bumps that came along the way in early conception. I am eager to see it come to life, as I am sure many of you do too.

However, I am currently handling too many other zines and real-life issues at the moment to consider tackling another major one such as this right away. This is why I will be postponing the project until middle to late spring, once I have completed all of my other obligations.

I know that the deadline for moderator applications was supposed to be open until January 30th, but I will, unfortunately, have to turn off the form for now, as none of the applications will get looked at any time soon. I will be personally emailing the current applicants to apologize regarding this situation. I understand completely if they wish to retract their applications or if they no longer wish to invest in this project.

For those of you who would like to view conversations and as much photo proof of this incident as I could find, please click THIS LINK HERE.

In BLUE is myself, Tea. In GREEN is Wendy. In PINK is Bev. All other contacts/testimonials are in various other colors, each color depicting a different individual testifying to their experience with Bev or the other projects they have tried running.

Again, I want to stress to not witch hunt or to harass any of the involved parties. I don’t wish for anything terrible to befall anyone simply because I wanted to be transparent with this zine’s supporters and audience. I have stated the events as they have occurred to the best of my abilities, and if there are any inaccuracies in my account, it was not intentional and ultimately is the fault of no one but myself for not properly elaborating.

I sincerely apologize for this inconvenience and hope that you will stick with this project once it is revived. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to express them to me and I will do my best to address them.

Thank you for your time.

#update #spill the tea

[edenfalling]

[Fic] “Frog Hunt” -- Homestuck

Summary: SBURB is not turning out anything like you'd hoped, and your game session may be broken. Which is a problem, because you can't go back to Earth -- last you checked, it's busy being an apocalyptic wasteland -- and judging by your most recent dreams, the rest of the Medium beyond your little Incipisphere is an equally apocalyptic wasteland of ghosts and horrorterrors. The only way out is through. You have to win the game.

Winning SBURB requires frogs.

Note: I started this fic way back in 2012, hit Jade's horrorterror dreams, and had no idea where to go from there. Last week it occurred to me that actually the horrorterror dreams made a perfectly reasonable ending, provided I filled in a missing middle scene, established an emotional/thematic through-line, and tweaked stuff until the new parts played nice with the old ones. So I did. :) [2,325 words]

--------------------------------------------- Frog Hunt ---------------------------------------------

SBURB is not turning out anything like you'd hoped. You wanted to see your friends in person, go on cool adventures, and save the world. You guess technically the cool adventure part is happening? But it turns out that being in the middle of an adventure is mostly very upsetting and dangerous.

Also your game session may be broken. Which is a problem, because you can't go back to Earth -- last you checked, it's busy being an apocalyptic wasteland -- and judging by your most recent dreams, the rest of the Medium beyond your little Incipisphere is an equally apocalyptic wasteland of ghosts and horrorterrors. The only way out is through. You have to win the game.

Winning SBURB requires frogs.

You have a lot of pointed questions to ask whoever designed the symbolism behind this process.

You also have no idea what you're doing. Zoology is not your thing! Botany and rocket science are your things!

But you've done crazier things in the name of friendship than breed magic universe-creating frogs. And this time you'll have Dave by your side, even if all he can help you can do is win the Olympic gold medal for synchronized flipping out, which might as well be a thing now since Earth is gone and if anyone ever reestablishes the Olympics it will be you and you can stick in any sports you feel like.

That analogy may have gotten away from you a little. You decide to preemptively consider it Dave's fault, and send him another message asking for an ETA.

"Kanaya says we won't have enough time to collect all the frogs, let alone raise them and do the breeding and mutation stuff. Not even if we yank Rose and John into the project, and especially not with just you and me," you tell him when he shows up in person, popping out of nowhere with two discs floating at his side. They look a little like Grandpa's old vinyl records, but with red gears turning underneath them. "Not that you aren't helpful! But there's only so many seconds until disaster."

Dave arches the backs of his hands, fingertips still ghosting over the ridges of his floating record thingies. "Harley, c'mon, work with me here. What's my aspect?"

You blink. Oh. Time travel, durr. Okay, possibly your flipping out was a little premature. "Whoops, forgot that! Potentially infinite seconds, yay recycling. So how are we doing this?"

Dave shrugs, letting the records vanish back into his sylladex. "We have limited absolute time, basically from when I got your house up to reasonable height to, let's say, an hour before whatever runs us off the rails goes critical. So we have to maximize our use of space -- duplicate this ectobiowhatthefuck setup and run an assload of slime zapper tadpole tanks at once. I'm thinking one on each of the top ten floors of your house. We'll do one floor on each master loop so we don't keep running into each other. Mark the space and time coordinates for each croaker we target, then head out to poke them or whatever literally the second after we zap them, take notes on any other frogs that look useful, and move down a floor and back in time to start again."

"What about breeding?" you ask.

You think Dave frowns. It's hard to read his expression behind his shades, but he doesn't guard his posture as much as his face. "Whoops, forgot that. Uh, let's say every third floor and third loop is for breeding and mutation games. Shouldn't be too hard, especially if we whip up a regular appearifier. They don't have these bullshit temporal lock restrictions."

"Sounds like a plan," you say. "Let's get everything set up and start breeding!"

Dave's discombobulated expression is so faint and brief that if you'd blinked, you would have missed it. Hmmm, you think to yourself. Maybe...? But no, you probably just reminded him of something one of the trolls said. They can be so bizarre sometimes.

"Time to rock and roll," Dave says, and you shake off your daydream and get to work.

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

It turns out that ectobiology is actually very simple! You don't need to know genetics or metaphysical zoology, which you were a little worried about. You just need to zap frogs and run their ghost slime through the game-provided machines until you hit a gene combination that pings a little automated reward mechanism. Scanning for useful frogs is a little trickier, since you get the reward ping for any potentially useful gene sequence even if it's one you already have on file -- you have to weed out the duplicates manually, which is time-consuming and a total pain.

Creating hundreds of potential paradoxes to make sure the appearifier grabs slime instead of actual frogs is also time-consuming and a total pain.

It would be simplest to just shoot the frogs, but first of all, that's mean, and second of all, it would probably screw up LOFAF's ecology to storm around wiping out its native fauna less than an hour after thawing them out in the first place. If you had a dart gun you could trust not to mangle the frogs on impact, maybe you could stun them for a few minutes. Unfortunately, all of Grandpa's guns (and by extension, all of your guns) are designed to shoot projectiles straight through solid objects and totally fuck up their day. Which means that instead of perching in a tree like a cool and sexy sniper, you are galumphing around on the ground, hot and sticky and covered in a gross combination of mud and panicked frog secretions. Ugh.

"I look like a swamp zombie, don't I?" you say before you can think better of the words.

"Yeah, but in a cute monster-girl way," Dave says. "I'm just a scarecrow that got left out in the rain and turned into a mold sculpture."

You look over at him just as a clump of mud and moss slides down the left lens of his shades. "Um. No comment." You are determinedly not noticing that he said you're cute. Nope. Completely thought-free zone over here, nothing but genetics and logistics, which everyone knows require no brain power at all.

Dave shakes his head in faux solemnity. "Tragic. Faced with the death and destruction of my awesome good looks and you can't even dredge up a "That's sad"? I am betrayed. I am devastated. I am--"

"--still cute underneath the glop, stop fishing for compliments," you interrupt, and are furiously grateful for the mud hiding your blush. Stupid Dave and his stupid... everything. Why do you even like him? He's such a butt.

Of course, all your friends are kind of jerks. Possibly there's something miscalibrated about your friend-finding radar. Or possibly you're also a jerk? Hmm. That's something to ask Rose about, whenever you finally get to see in her person.

You will get to see her in person. You refuse to acknowledge any other possibility.

"Ouch," Dave says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up just a degree. "Damned by faint praise. I guess I'd better step up my frog-napping skills, can't let my dashing good looks outweigh my knightly swag. Speaking of which, have we been standing still long enough for that little orange fucker to stick his head out?"

You glance around, then down, then up. There's a tiny flash of color just over-- you shift slightly-- yep, right there on the tree by Dave's shoulder. "Um. Yeah. Just... keep standing still. Really still."

"Making like a tree, yes ma'am Sergeant Harley ma'am," Dave says as you inch slowly toward him through the muck between the tree roots. "It's right behind me, isn't it? Getting all ready for a jump scare, gonna leap out and poison me to death with its slimy frog toes, alas, Horatio, here dies a fellow of infinite memes, taken from us too--"

You lunge.

You catch the frog.

You also knock yourself and Dave flat into the muck. His shades knock into your forehead. Your own glasses skew against his nose. Your left knee is jammed between his shins and his belt buckle is digging into your stomach.

Your mouth is right up against his chin. If you moved just an inch or two...

"Ooh, Miz Harley," Dave says, somewhat breathless.

"Oh, shut up," you say, and shove the frog into your sylladex as you scramble back to your feet. "Look who's talking, Mister Swamp Thing."

Then you bend down to yank Dave up, too, because fair is fair.

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

By the fourth loop you're ready to drop from exhaustion and the weird, indefinable tension of actually being around one of your friends in person instead of getting to mediate your interactions through computers. "I don't care how tight the schedule is. I'm starting to see double and I'm taking a goddamn nap," you tell Dave as you drop to the floor and lean back against the wall. You lay your rifle across your lap and keep your hands carefully away from the trigger. You know your temper sharpens when you're tired, and Grandpa taught you never to take chances with guns.

Dave frowns, and you know he's tired too because this time you can see his mouth curve downward to match the annoyed set of his shoulders and the fuck-you shove of his hands into his pockets. "The more loops we run, the harder it is to keep shit from falling apart," he says. "You that eager to trip into a doomed timeline? I can go back and hit reset anytime, easy as cake and pie and banana splits, but every screwup costs one dead Dave and one Jade abandoned in a dead-end universe. I don't even know if that you would get erased or keep on living until you go shithive maggots."

He's been talking to the trolls too, you remember, especially the teal one who uses l33tsp34k. He says her name is Terezi. She's been running time loops with him too. He likes her a lot.

You are not jealous. That would be stupid. You are not stupid; therefore you are not jealous. QED.

"The more tired we are, the harder it is to keep from screwing up," you say. "We're creating a whole new universe and we'll have to live there after we win the game. It's kind of important, Dave!"

Dave presses his back against the wall and slides down to join you on the hard tile floor. "We're not gonna win the game, you know. There is literally no way to do that. The game was borked from before the word go was a twinkle in its druggie teen mom's eye."

"Maybe this session's broken," you agree. "But that doesn't mean we can't find a way to cheat, and even if we lose, I'd rather lose trying my hardest instead of half-assing shit because I was so tired I fell asleep while operating complicated machines."

Dave sighs. "Yeah, okay. Naptime. But not here. This is a work floor; we've gotta keep it clear for work loops. We'll go crash further down." He taps your shoe with his own. "Up and at 'em, Harley, let's go hit that transportalizer."

You groan and haul yourself to your feet.

The obvious place for a nap would be your bedroom, but then where would you sleep on the next loop? Anyway, you only have one bed and it'd feel... presumptuous? pushy? maybe just go with awkward. Yeah. It would be awkward to share it with Dave, especially without John and Rose there as well to clarify that it's strictly a friend thing.

So you alchemize an armful of blankets and pillows and make a little nest in one of the hundreds of blank, identical stories Dave copied from the real-world part of your house. It's still a little weird sharing the space -- Dave is so close you can feel him breathe, every exhale stirring stray wisps of hair over your ears -- but you think you could get used to this.

You think maybe you want to get used to this.

"Sweet dreams, Jade," Dave mutters as he flops over onto his side, one hand curled loosely around the hilt of his sword.

"You too," you tell him, before you remember he's just going to wake up on Derse as his dreamself, still stuck in this stupid, lying, Möbius tangle of a game. And you're going back to those weird bubbles in the monster-filled void. Neither of you can get free until you finish Frankensteining your magic frog and beat an unwinnable game.

"Heroes always beat million to one odds in stories," you say to nobody in particular. "Why not us?"

Dave mumbles something unintelligible in response, already mostly asleep.

You wiggle sideways until your shoulder brushes up against his, so the warmth of his body radiates through the thin blanket onto you and your warmth feeds back into him. He's alive. You're both alive. Somewhere else in the Incipisphere, John and Rose are (you hope) also still alive.

You would do anything to make sure your friends make it out of SBURB, to a new world safe from meteors and monsters and predestination. Anything.

You dream of bloody, mangled ghosts, groping desperately toward you for salvation while you stand frozen under the horrorterrors' incomprehensible regard.

In the dream, you imagine yourself reaching for Dave's hand. You imagine him weaving his fingers between yours. You imagine Rose and John standing beside you. You imagine all four of you stepping through a door into a new universe.

If you imagine something with all your heart, that makes it a tiny bit less fake, and being less fake means it's at least a little bit real.

The pressure of the horrorterrors' attention attenuates, just that vital fraction.

You turn away from the ghosts and think of frogs.

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

End of Fic

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

If anyone has constructive commentary, I am all ears! Also I am going to bed soon, because being awake is overrated and also I took a Benadryl in order to eat a BLT for dinner, so, you know, probably better to lie down than to slowly drift off in front of my computer. *wry*

#liz writes stuff #homestuck #jade harley #dave strider #generalized content warning #to about the same level as canon anyway #does homestuck count as its own warning by now?

[travllingbunny]

The 100 rewatch: 4x04 A Lie Guarded

This episode has some interesting moments, mostly those where characters have morality debates and try to be a moral compass and make the other question the approach they’ve chosen: Kane to Octavia – for getting too prone to violence and murder; Monty (and kind of Jasper) to Clarke – for maybe going too far in trying to act according to the Big Picture and Head over Heart principle and becoming more like the Ark leadership that they all used to hate; in order to save people;  Raven and Nyko to Luna – for again almost opting to stay away and not help save people.

It also kills of one of my favorite minor characters, has a minor fake-out death of a secondary character, and a big fake-out death of a main character, and escalates hostilities between two groups of people again.

It’s one of the weaker episodes of the season, because it has a few things that really don’t make sense, including two instances of character behavior that is clearly plot-driven, and one instance of extreme Plot Armor.

According to a tweet from one of the staff (thanks, The 100 wiki), the title comes from the quote “An excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie, for an excuse is a lie guarded." It doesn’t say who it comes from, though Google says it’s by Alexander Pope. This clearly refers to the lie that Clarke told previously when she told people in Arkadia that everyone will be saved, and didn’t tell them that only 100 people would probably be (unless they manage to find the Nightblood solution to save everyone), and the fact that her attempts to explain things only made people more upset.

But it’s also a spoilery pun (this never even occurred to me until I saw someone on YouTube point it out) - “ALIE guarded”, because the group that’s on the mission to find Becca’s lab (Abby, Raven, Jackson, Luna, Nyko, Miller, one redshirt guy, and for some reason Murphy and Emori) runs into ALIE’s drones that start shooting at them and kill two people.

Luna is the character that I have changed my opinion the most on rewatch. I used to really like her, because her rejection of violence and rebellion against the Grounder warlike way of life, so I was really shocked when she had what seemed to be a sudden complete 180 turn similar to the one that often happens with characters on The Walking Dead – from being against killing to “DIE DIE Kill everyone!” But now I see that this turn was foreshadowed from the start, and that she had already shown the tendency to be judgmental of humans in general in a way that’s nihilistic and misanthropic. Here, for instance, she says: “What if the fight is all we are? We torture, kill, betray. We pretend we're more than that just to make ourselves feel better, but it's a lie.” Jasper wrote something similar in his letter, but he didn’t decide to kill everyone. She also asks Raven if she thinks she/they deserve to survive. This is something different from the way Kane or Abby talked about “deserving to survive” – they said that as an incentive for people to be better, while Luna is saying people maybe should not be saved. It’s not the first time she decided to stay away and not get involved to save people, which is her right, but also doesn’t make her such a great person. I know she has been very traumatized and lost everyone she loved. But if your reasoning is: I won’t make an effort to save people, because they’re not good enough to deserve saving, there is something seriously wrong with you.

Nyko tries to talk to her and convince her to give blood so they could try to synthesize Nightblood, saying “those are good people”, and she asks him what they would do if she refuses to do it to save them. Nyko points out she would be doing it to “save us all”. But then the drones attack, and he gets killed saving her, making himself a shield for the bullets – no doubt that was not just to save another person, but because she is the key to saving everyone. Luna still doesn’t want to donate blood, so Raven – who herself has been prone occasionally to self-righteousness of that kind – tells her that no one will forcibly take the blood from her, but begs her to give it on her own will to help: “It’s not your blood that defines you, it’s your heart” – and she finally gets through to her. For now.

Raven still doesn’t trust Murphy and thinks he’s an opportunistic jerk, but she changes her mind a little after Murphy saves her from the drones.

There’s some setup for the plotline with Emori in the upcoming episodes – as we find out she is afraid of something and not too happy to go to Becca’s lab. We also find out that “Frikdreina” is what Grounders call those with genetic mutations/deformities.

In Arkadia, things start in a light-hearted way, Jasper’s prank on Jaha – he managed to get him asleep, probably with some of the stuff he and Monty liked, and put him a raft in the middle of the lake, where Jaha woke up to Jasper laughing and telling “Chancellor, you’ve been floated”. This is a way for the Delinquents to channel their resentment of their former Chancellor, who executed so many people and sent them to probably die as expendable people, in a harmless joke.

There’s also a friendly scene between Clarke and Monty, where Clarke is concerned about Bellamy not being back, and Monty telling her not to worry. But things deteriorate when Jasper and Monty, setting up a silly prank on Clarke, end up finding the List. Jasper is angry and compares Clarke to the former Ark leadership, calling her “Jaha-lite”. When he tries to tell everyone through the radio, Clarke has him electrocuted and arrested. Monty is more understanding, even though Jasper told him that he (Monty) was not on the list, and he’s also not happy that Harper is not – he realizes why she had to leave him off, but he thinks she is indeed becoming like the hated former Ark leadership – lying to people, keeping secrets, arresting her friends. Clarke admits that Jaha used to be everyone she hated, but that she’s now starting to understand him to a point.  It’s a very morally complicated situation, because they are right, but at the same time, that list had to be made, someone had to make it, and Raven gave Clarke that responsibility – and now Clarke is getting the blame for it. And she – or anyone who made that list – was going to get blamed no matter what: they were going to leave people out of it; if they left out their friends, that is cold hearted and their friends would resent them, if they put their friends on it, it would make them look biased and get everyone else to resent them. Clarke’s choices are completely understandable, but also unhealthy for her - she is taking on all on herself and losing her morality and emotional health to ensure people’s survival,  but she has to stop before going too far.

Monty ends up reading the list to everyone and causing a lot of anger in the crowd. People start questioning her about everything, from why she left this or that person out (Harper, for instance, because of a genetic disorder her father died of, Monty because they already had other engineers), from supposedly  “putting herself on the list”, and one guy is like “Bellamy Blake? Really?” He obviously is someone from the Ark who has no idea what Bellamy meant to the Delinquents, or how instrumental he was in defeating the Mountain Men and saving the people form Mount Weather, but I guess he is not related to one of the Delinquents so he doesn’t care. He probably thinks that Clarke being important is acceptable because she’s the former Chancellor/Council member’s daughter, but Bellamy was just a janitor, right? But then  Jaha intercepts and shows one of his main talents – doing talking to the crowd. He explains that Clarke and Bellamy are important because good leadership is necessary, and promises everyone that they would get rid of the list and instead hold a lottery to determine who survives. Jaha has both proved himself useful and saved the moment, and somehow made himself the decision-maker again. When Clarke later tells him that lottery is risky as they may end up without doctors etc., he points out that this was necessary to motivate people (note that he never says they would honor his promise), because people, understandably, hate hearing that they’re expendable and that they have no value. “That’s not what I said” – “That’s what they heard”.(No matter how different Jaha and Bellamy are, they both share the ability to talk to the crows and gauge their emotional reactions, something Kane is terrible at, and that Clarke is not that good at. Abby has never even tried.)

In Polis, Kane has a serious conversation with Octavia, warning her that she’s become a bit too murdery. He calls her out on killing the looter to make him a scapegoat, and says she didn’t have to kill him or the Trishanakru Ambassador Rafel, or Pike. Octavia says Pike got what he deserved, and Kane points out the difference between revenge and justice. Hmm, I have to say that killing Rafel, while being immoral, could be argued to be necessary? He was going to fight and probably kill Roan, who was still recuperating, and that would have had really bad consequences. But there’s no doubt that Octavia is enjoying a chance to murder people a bit too much, and that using violence to solve all problems is her thing. But she is not comfortable listening to Kane morally judging her – something that also caused her behavior towards him in 6x01, when she was preemptively verbally attacking him because she was expecting his judgment.

But it turns out that Roan also isn’t a guarantee of peace and alliance, either. Echo has captured Bellamy and another guy called Stevens, off-screen (presumably with her people, the same way she confronted Octavia later, since I don’t see a way how she, with her sword, could capture Bellamy and another guy with guns), Roan forces Kane to tell him the truth about what the Sky people have been doing, and decides to break the alliance and go to war against them and Trikru, and take over Arkadia as a shelter, although Kane insists it’s just plan B. Roan thinks they lied to him and suspects that the Nightblood solution is a cover for trying to make another Commander behind his back, since he doesn’t really trust Octavia about the Flame being destroyed. At least he smartly got that right, though he is actually wrong about the rest of it.

The first victims of Roan’s decision are Trikru warriors in Polis, even though they didn’t even know anything about what was going on between Sky people and Roan. Octavia, looking for Indra finds many of them killed. There’s a moment where she thinks she sees Indra’s dead body, but it’s someone else. (Not the only time season 4 does this – we had a similar fake-out in 4x11 with Monty and Harper.) She goes to Arkadia to warn her people. Roan sends Echo to stop her and capture her, but Octavia won’t come and defends herself. Echo is trying to take her alive and she genuinely seems a bit upset/sad when she ends up stabbing Octavia, and Octavia falls down a very high cliff. I guess she’s interested in Bellamy enough already, and fears that constantly killing his loved ones is not going to help that potential relationship happen. Both Echo and Roan are a bit uncomfortable when they have to tell Bellamy the news. There’s a scene where Bellamy cries and breaks down, thinking his sister is dead, set to sad and emotional music. But guess what, end of episode twist - Octavia is alive.

Sorry, but the Azgeda war paint looks really silly. Is it supposed to look scary? It looks like a cross between a clown and a panda.

There are several things in this episode that really don’t make sense:

Clarke not putting Monty on the list – I feel like this happened just to show how Clarke is willing to not put her friends on the list (the conflict between her and Monty could have been just about Harper, but Harper and Clarke are not as close as Monty and Clarke, and Jasper wants to die anyway), but I’m supposed to believe that Clarke doesn’t think Monty is one of the 97 people in Arkadia most useful and important for survival? (I say 97, because Clarke would have put Bellamy and Octavia on the list no matter what – the latter because Bellamy would never forgive her if Octavia was not on the list.) Monty is probably one of the 5 most important people – he’s a genius, not just an engineer but someone who grows plants and can ensure food; Clarke was aware of his talents even in early season 1, and he will ,of course, prove to be arguably the most important person for everyone’s survival.

Jasper and Monty accusing Clarke of putting herself on the list – they really didn’t notice that “Clarke Griffin” was written in a different handwriting from the rest of the names? Come on!

Riley is now starting to get shoved into scenes in a way that doesn’t make too much sense, like being given important tasks. This guy had been a slave and mistreated until very recently, why isn’t he resting and getting therapy or something?

And of course, Octavia’s extreme Plot Armor – surviving the stab wound, I could believe, but after falling from that cliff, she is not only alive, but hasn’t broken her spine, or even leg, and is able to mount on the horse and ride to Arkadia?

Body count:

Stevens, Arker killed by Echo, who kills him with Bellamy right next to him and watching

A guard from the Ark, killed by a drone

Nyko, one of my favorite minor characters – I guess the show can’t let someone so nice and reasonable live

A number of Trikru warriors, killed by Azgeda, because we haven’t had any mass murders so far in the season, and we have to fill the quota of 2-3 mass deaths per season.

Two Azgeda warriors who were with Echo, and tried to capture Octavia, killed by Octavia

Rating: 6.5/10

#the 100 #the 100 rewatch #the 100 4x04 #a lie guarded #the 100 season 4 #clarke griffin #octavia blake #monty green #jasper jordan #thelonius jaha #luna #luna kom floukru #raven reyes #roan #roan kom azgeda #echo #bellamy blake #echo kom azgeda #marcus kane #nyko #john murphy #alie

[mentalcurls]

6.5 Effettivamente

I’ve been waiting for this clip ever since 3.4 Argentina (which took place a month ago today btw), but in my soul I’ve actually been waiting for this coming out since forever.

my 💔 poor 💔 heart 💔 broke 💔 seeing Martino watch his friends interact from afar

they’re relaxed and comfortable with each other, their relationship is as close as ever while Marti’s relationship with them is in tatters, he barely speaks to Gio and that’s it

this is even worse than the picture Gio posted on IG on Tuesday, when Martino was supposed to go to Elia’s to prep for the exam and didn’t go

my 💔 poor 💔 heart 💔 breaking 💔 again because, despite Giovanni’s reassurances on Monday, Martino doesn’t believe Elia has forgiven him so he chooses to stay away from him... and let’s not forget Elia sits next to Marti during classes

Elia leaves, Martino finally approaches Giovanni, but he looks like he’s going to his death, look at his face, my poor baby

has he ever been bluer?

deep breaths baby, deep breaths

HE DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING? LEAVING THE FIRST MOVE TO GIO (who doesn’t disappoint thank God)? SO HE COULD HYPOTHETICALLY IGNORE HIM?

JEsus, the awkwardness between them kills me

the seconds of silence between the greeting and Marti asking the first question, Martino licking his lips and swallowing like he’s gathering the courage to say something monumental despite it being a silly, innocent question

THE STILTED CONVERSATION oh God why, I’m hurting

“Ma non penso che ti interessi, no?” (But I don’t think you’re interested, right?) is Martino twisting a knife into his own wound because he’s saying: you don’t want to go out with the radio guys, you don’t want to get involved into something I’m doing (and I like, because we’ve seen he’s putting more effort into it with the Virginia Woolf thing on Wednesday - though it might also be something to keep his mind occupied on something that is not his crumbling relationships), you don’t want to spend time with me

I mean, Marti obviously knows, intellectually, that Gio doesn’t want to go to radio things because of Eva and because it’s just not his thing, but deep inside it’s just another refusal, one which Martino preemptively steels himself for

That “se… se ti va puoi… puoi venire da me” (If you’d like you can come to mine) is said in the same tone Martino has when he tells Filippo he’s seeing a boy in 5.5 Pride and when he asks Sana about homosexuality and religion in 4.3 Evoluzione

“Pizza, mortazza e City-Real” ICONIC

Marti asks Gio to hang out with a half smile (!!!) but Gio remains impassible and Martino’s smile falls

when Giovanni asks about their score, it’s as good as a YES FINALLY, it’s the rebuilding of the bridge between them and Martino smiles fully possibly for the first time in weeks because that’s their game, their ritual, their friendship going back to normal

WHEN THEY LEAVE THEY’RE BOTH SMILING AND TEASING EACH OTHER my heart sings with joy

Marti and Gio who are still laughing and making fun of one another while playing FIFA

(FIFA is a big bonding ritual for the boysquad, it’s the way they settle bets, it’s one of the topics they tease each other about, they play tournaments when they don’t know what to do, they keep long term score of who’s best and it’s something they all love, it’s a place of comfort for them)

(FIFA is a football/soccer game, which is imho significant as the setting Marti picks for his coming out, he’s trying to reinforce the idea that he’s still a guy who loves “boy things” like sports and videogames, despite his sexuality - as well as trying to reinforce that he’s still the same guy who played the previous 47+56 games he and Gio kept score of)

(the fact that Gio hesitates before starting to play FIFA again after Martino tells him he likes boys probably ups the level of panic in Marti’s head, because what if he’s gonna be excluded from something as important for their group and as “masculine” as FIFA now??)

(when Gio starts to play again AND ASKS MARTINO ABOUT NICO AT THE SAME TIME it’s such an important thing for Marti because he finds out can have it all)

I would like to thank not only God but also Jesus and LudoBesse for the closeups of Ludovico Tersigni’s face when he smiles 🙏

Their knees touching just gets to me, for no real reason, and I kinda wish we were able to see if they kept touching for the whole time or if Marti retracted after coming out

EFFFFFFettttttivaaamenteeeeee (make it last longer c’mon, Marti, I know you can)

is it me or does Marti look a tad disappointed when Gio asks him if the person he likes is Emma? maybe it’s just nerves

Marti who keeps stealing glances at Giovanni, checking in constantly

Gio senses Martino is uncomfortable, especially after the “ma non l’hai capito?” “no non si capisce un cazzo” (“don’t you know?” “no, I can’t understand you for shit”) exchange, and cracks the Sana joke to make him relax a bit, you can see he’s trying to keep a straight face long enough to speak without giving himself away (he should learn to deliver jokes from Nico, I mean, he kept a straight face for the whole Maddalena and hypertrichosis thing)

“Non *swallows* non è una ragazza” (It’s not *swallows* it’s not a girl) POOR BABY DEER HE CAN’T EVEN SPEAK  his throat must be so dry, he must be trying to keep breathing normally so hard, he’s probably shaking and THEN HE CLENCHES HIS JAW

once again Marti is steeling himself for the worst

and Gio just goes... slack, is the best way I can think to describe it, for a second. I don’t think it’s surprise? At least not for the gay thing, maybe for the fact that Marti actually confirmed it for him. It may also be relief

it’s just a second, then Gio gathers himself and thinks, looks at Marti who can’t meet his eyes

“Sono io?” (mind, non-Italian fans, it’s not a “Is it me?”, it’s more of a “It’s me?”)

I LIVE FOR MARTINO OVERCOMPENSATING WHEN HE DENIES IT to hide the fact that he did, indeed, crush on Gio for a long time 😘

the smiles. their smiles. Marti is slowly relaxing, Gio is finally understanding what’s going on with him and they feel like THEY’RE FINALLY FRIENDS AGAIN✨

Marti thinks it’s over, the three most important things he can see Gio wanting to know about (why’s Martino hurting, that Marti is gay and that he’s not in love with him) are out there and cleared between them now, and Gio smiled! And had nothing bad to say! Except he won’t play. Uh-oh.

HA, Giovanni Garau, patron saint of best friends, does it again! He’s put together all the little pieces, all the scraps of interaction, all the tiny moments when something he couldn’t quite pinpoint happened and BAM! He gets it, he knows.

Martino’s wry smile and nod

Gio mirroring him and nodding as well, halfway between “Okay, I can see it” and “Dude, well done, I’m actually kind of impressed”

and then Gio comes in like a wrecking ball against toxic masculinity and compliments Marti on his choice of man

Marti who acts like he’s never even noticed whether Nico is attractive or not

Marti looks so embarrassed, he should have been blushing (FE_CESARI UR GOOD BUT WHERE ARE MY BLUSHES ARE YOU A REDHEAD OR NOT????)

I wonder how closely Gio is mirroring the comments Martino usually makes when Gio himself tells him he’s attracted to a girl, maybe even when he told him about Eva? He tries his best to be supportive even though he doesn’t really understand, the exact same way Marti has always been supportive of him despite not understanding girls’ appeal

“Che fate, state insieme, uscite, COME STAI?” (What’s happening there, are you togethere, are you dating, how are you?) COME STAI GUYS most supportive best friend ever

“È un po’ strano lui” (He’s kind of weird) is such a weird way to put it? I mean, sure, you could say Nico acted weird, but not for the reasons Martino gives Gio, imo; he’s “weird” for changing schools in his last year, for his granddad’s puppets, for asking Marti to ditch a party he himself had asked him to and for dragging him to an abandoned pool of all places; Marti instead describes his as weird for appearing undecided, for seemingly stringing him along

is that a hint of disgust, almost, I detect in Martino’s voice while he quotes Niccolò’s text? Is he that fed up?

Gio makes a sound at that, that I can’t decide if it’s just an encouragement for Marti to go on, or if it’s an “okay, got it” while he plans Niccolò’s demise for daring to string Martino along

still, Giovanni sides with Martino but doesn’t tell his best friend he’s better off without Nico or make any threats of retribution or promises to fight for Marti’s honour or smth, because he’s a supportive pal who will trashtalk Marti’s s.o. when he acts like a dick but will still support Marti’s feelings for him and believes in Martio’s ability to take care of himself

I have Questions about Luchino’s voice message, specifically: who was this message sent to?

not Gio directly, because Luca asks “Voi c’avete”, second person plural

did he send it to the group with all four guys? but Marti’s phone didn’t ring, so either he’s got the group conversation muted (💔) or Luca sent it somewhere else

is there a group with only Gio, Elia and Luca in it to whom the latter could have sent the voice message? again, my 💔 heart 💔 breaks 💔

anyways, Marti is the best bro because despite not talking to Luca for two weeks he still offers up his notes

Gio taking advantage of Martino leaving without pausing the game to score on him lol

Gio asks Martino what he’s found while Marti is looking at the flipbook thingy... how much do you want to bet that by the time Marti answers nothing with that big smile on his face, Gio has seen the thing, what Marti was doing with it and the way he was smiling and he’s put everything together without Marti saying anything? that’s why he doesn’t press, as much as in recognition of the fact that Marti already opened up to him so much today

I 100% love the way both Marti and Gio start their sentences when they’re saying something important with “Comunque” (Anyways) as if it’s just a continuation from one long conversation between them, or as if they’re just stating for the record something that is obvious

Marti was definitely not expecting at all Gio to actively tell him he’s better than whoever Niccolò’s girlfriend is on principle, which in my experience is a very common best friend thing to say, and that hurts

Gio grabbing Marti by the neck and ruffling his hair is such a friend/brother thing to do, it’s a fond and exasperated thing in the way only siblings’ touches can be, halfway between an attempt to strangle you and a caress

This clip was so beautiful, the friendship between Giovanni and Martino is so beautiful, their ship is so beautiful! I’m so happy and so thankful for LudoBesse 🙏

#skam italia #martino rametta #giovanni garau #skamit #king giovanni garau the best most supportive pflag mom friend™ #6.5 effettivamente #a. writes

[thatbeauadams]

may i? || adeau, 6.22

WHO: Beau Adams and Adam Sylvester @dominantsylvester

WHEN: 6.22, evening

WHAT: Beau finds Adam for his dance. Emotional hijinks ensue.

He'd been trying to convince himself that it was because Adam asked for one. He'd been trying to tell himself that it didn't matter if he danced with Adam or not. He'd tried - but once he'd asked Judas for permission to leave the table and to remove the plug in case the Dom would want more than a dance, he felt his stomach flip in a way he knew meant he hadn't succeeded. Beau was tempted to change his mind, to turn and go back to the table, but he kept moving forward until he was in front of the handsome Dom. "I believe you asked me to save you a dance, Sir?" he asked Adam, hoping that the casual smile on his lips didn't betray just how much he wanted to be in the Dom's arms, even for just a few minutes.

Adam had taken notice of Beau, and had been keeping track of him throughout the dance so far. He wanted to go and talk to him, but he seemed very attached to Judas, and Adam didn't want to step on another Dominant's toes. He had busied himself with something else, deliberately not paying attention to what Beau was doing, when he heard the sub's voice and turned to look at him. He smiled, genuinely pleased that Beau had sought him out.  "I did," he said, stepping towards him. "Good boy. I was concerned your time was spoken for all evening, but I'm glad to see you carved out a piece for me." He held a hand out to Beau.

Beau tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped again at the sight of the Dom's smile, the pleasure all over his face. Fuck. He slid his hand into Adam's when it was offered, his own smile going a bit softer. "You asked, Sir. I didn't want to disappoint you," he said, again trying to sound casual but falling a bit short of the mark with how his fingers squeezed lightly around Adam's. "Are you enjoying your evening so far?" he asked as they made their way to the dance floor.

Adam's smile softened a bit as well, less bright and more warm and affectionate.  Adam wasn't someone who dispensed affection freely to anyone he encountered.  He was more guarded, especially outside of a scene.  The fact that he smiled so easily at Beau, and the warmth that was evident in it, spoke volumes about the way he'd come to see the submissive.  Adam squeezed his hand back and led him out to the middle of the floor.  "I appreciate it," he murmured, and pulled Beau close, placing one hand on the small of his back, with the other still holding Beau's hand.  "I am.  I suppose I should be grateful that the event is mandatory, since I don't think I would have attended otherwise.  But it's been fairly enjoyable.  Have you been having a good time with Judas?"

The look on his face - Beau didn't even know his pulse could do things like it was doing right now, and he hated that he couldn't shake this. This sort of thing was just... dangerous, and he couldn't make himself stop, or stay away from this gorgeous Dom. He swung easily into Adam's arms, his free hand lifting to rest on the taller man's shoulder. "Mm. I agree with you there - I don't think I would have come either if it wasn't mandatory, but it's been okay so far. Uh, yeah. It's taken a little getting used to with the orders he has me under, Sir, but it's been a good night. Are you having fun with Eli?" Beau was glad that he managed to keep his voice even when he asked, still not sure what this feeling he had about the whole situation was - refusing to even consider that it could be jealousy. He didn't do jealousy.

Adam's eyebrows raised when Beau mentioned orders, and he had to tell himself that he had no reason to be concerned.  It didn't work and he was concerned anyway.  "What orders are you under?"  He tried to sound casual, but he knew his expression was a little too serious to really be convincing.  He nodded vaguely when Beau asked about Eli.  "It's been good, yes.  Eli's been very well behaved."  In truth, Eli had been a perfectly good companion, and they'd been having a very pleasant time.  But Adam didn't want to talk about Eli right now.  He wanted to talk about Beau.

He shrugged a little bit, as if it wasn't a big deal. And it wasn't, really. Beau wanted to push himself with the rules he was under tonight, because ever since TPE had been mentioned, he was curious. Purely curious. "Just, you know. Asking before I do most things like... get up or go dance with someone else or... do other things with someone else," he said, a little bit of a smirk touching his lips to leave no doubt as to what he meant. Beau looked up at him, dark eyes amused. "Well behaved. Sounds like a hot date, Sir," he teased gently.

Adam quirked an eyebrow.  He'd talked to Beau about TPE recently, and definitely wanted to try it with the sub, but he definitely should not be feeling jealous right now, just because Judas beat him to the punch.  That was ridiculous.  There was no reason Beau shouldn't try it with another dominant, just because he'd talked about the kink with Adam.  "And... what do you have permission to do with me?"  It irked him that he had to wait on the permission of another dominant to do something to Beau, but he knew that was an unreasonable emotion.  "It's not a date at all," he said with a slight roll of his eyes.  "I've accompanied him to the dance, as escorts are a requirement.  Eli is a friend.  We aren't dating."

"It was his idea, Sir," he said, not quite sure why he felt the need to clarify that with Adam. "I... well. Dance. And if you'd like to do more, I've been given permission for that as well. Figured it would be best to ask preemptively," Beau said with an easy grin, unconsciously pressing his body a bit closer to Adam's. Considering the sexual tension between them was always crackling, it was a safe assumption. Not because he was hoping for it. Nope. He smiled a little wider, amused at the reaction - for no other reason than that. "I don't know, you took him to the party last night too, Sir. Might be giving off the wrong impression there," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly teasing the Dominant. "But I get that. Everyone keeps saying 'date' but... escort is much better. Date kind of implies something else."

Adam's lips twitched upwards into a hint of a smirk.  "More?  Why, Beau, do you have designs on my virtue?"  He grinned and shifted when Beau moved closer so that he could hold him more tightly.  He slid his hand down a little so he could squeeze Beau's ass for just a moment as he ducked his head and murmured in his ear.  "There are lots of things I'd like to do to you, but they'd all take long enough that your escort would notice your absence."  He lifted his head back up and kept dancing like nothing had happened, slowly leading Beau in a dance that was more of a shuffle.  "I agree.  Escort is a better word.  If I take someone on a date, it will be because I would like to date that person, not because both of us will get in trouble for not pairing off."

Beau couldn't help but snort in amusement at the comment. "Sir, I can't even humor that with a response, considering we both know our collective virtues are a thing of the past," he said with a grin. He liked how Adam's arms tightened around him - especially how that hand slid down to grab his ass, making the sub bite his lip against a groan. "Pick one off the list, I'm sure we could manage in a timely fashion," he suggested softly. "Yeah. I think people use that term too casually most of the time, Sir. Also dates should be by choice - not mandatory." He couldn't deny there was a small part of him that was a tiny bit relieved that Adam considered the difference as he did - and that this wasn't a date for him either.

Adam laughed softly.  "Oh, I don't know, you have plenty of virtues.  Chastity just isn't one of them."  He leaned in again, whispering.  "Although it could be one.  That would be fun to try.  Put your poor little dick in a cage."  He grinned, knowing that teasing about Beau's dick was likely to turn him on.  "Mm, I don't know, it's quite a list.  I'm willing to hear suggestions, if you have any."

"That is very true, Sir," he said with a grin. Hearing Adam's silky voice in his ear, suggesting putting him in a cage, it brought a moan to his throat, one that he couldn't stop this time. "I think you'd like that a little too much, Sir. And would it really be chastity if you make use of my holes while I'm in a cage?" he mused back, turning his head slightly towards Adam's. "How can I make a suggestion if I don't know what's on the list, Sir? Because you know I will always suggest your cock in my ass," Beau pointed out, arching his hips back to encourage that hand to wander south again.

Adam laughed at that and gently kneaded Beau's ass.  "You make a good point.  I don't think it counts as a virtue if you're still slutting it up, but just not coming.  It's alright.  It's an overrated virtue."  He turned, leading Beau to another part of the dance floor, further away from Judas.  "I should have known that's what you'd suggest.  But I didn't bring any lube, beautiful.  You'd have to take me dry, and I don't want to do that to you."

He hummed in pleasure as strong hands massaged his ass, body pressing tighter to the Dom's. "It is indeed. Being slutty is so much more fun than being chaste. I think you'd be disappointed if I fully adopted that virtue," he pointed out. His pulse picked up as Adam moved him on the dance floor, hoping they would be moving somewhere private. Beau leaned up to speak next to Adam's ear, his voice low. "I've had a plug in, and I have lube in my pocket. Please, Sir," he whispered.

Adam looked down at Beau, eyebrows raised, as they drifted towards the edge of the dance floor.  "Do you?  Such a little slut.  Ready and waiting and begging, even now."  He ducked his head to the side so he could hip at Beau's ear lobe.  "How much do you want my cock, slut?"

The way the Dom was speaking made color rise in his cheeks, staining his light brown skin pink. "Always, Sir," he murmured. His breath caught at the nip, and he licked his lips in anticipation. "So much, Sir. You know I do. You know how fucking fantastic your cock feels inside me... you have to want it too," he replied.

Adam gripped Beau's ass tightly, his fingers digging into his pants.  "I didn't ask whether I wanted it, slut," he murmured in his ear.  "I asked how much you wanted it.  Beg for it, or I'll leave you empty."

He whimpered, biting the inside of his lip. "Sir," he breathed, trying not to press his hips forward against Adam - not yet. "Please let me have your cock... please use this slut, Sir, I... please remind me where I belong," he whispered without thinking, unconsciously recalling scenes they had done before where Adam had done just that.

Adam smirked, pleased with Beau's response. "There's the good slut I know." He nipped softly at Beau's jaw.  "I know you need to be used. I'll take care of you. You know I will put you down where you belong, slut." He turned, moving his hand up to the back of Beau's neck, a gesture that looked affectionate except for how tightly he was gripping.  He headed towards the nearby hallway,  in no rush so that he wouldn't draw attention, but steering Beau with an iron grip on his neck.

The nip on his jaw made Beau shudder and almost sag in relief. His body moved on autopilot, the sounds of the music and chatter around them fading so all he knew was Adam’s hand on his neck. “Thank you, Sir,” he breathed out once they were alone, starting to undo his pants in anticipation of having Adam’s cock buried inside him.

Adam could see Beau starting to slip into subspace, and it sent a thrill through him. He knew just how to send Beau down, now, and it barely to a hint to have the desired effect. And Beau submitted so beautifully. Adam grinned when he saw Beau already undoing his pants,even as Adam was still steering him into a more secluded alcove. "So eager," he murmured. "Pants off, and fold them. I don't want you going back to the dance looking wrinkled. Then you can get on your knees and use your mouth to get me nice and hard."

He both loved and hated how easy it was for Adam to get him into subspace. He didn’t know if it was that Adam was just that good, or if it was that he was beginning to trust Adam. He didn’t know which was more dangerous. Beau stripped out of his pants and folded them hurriedly. “Don’t want anyone to know, Sir?” He asked as he opened the Dom’s pants, easing his cock out and sucking the head into his mouth hungrily.

"I wouldn't want to make anyone jealous," he joked. Beau was gorgeous all the time, but especially when he was eager like this. Adam groaned softly when Beau closed his lips around his cock. "That's a good slut." He slid his hand into Beau's hair, gently encouraging him.  "Get me nice and hard, and I'll fill that desperate little hole of yours."

Beau snorted in amusement - as if anyone would get jealous over him - but he didn't lift his mouth from Adam's cock to comment on it. His hands came up to rest on the Dom's powerful thighs, lips sliding over the thickening shaft easily. His eyes slid shut, savoring the taste and feel of Adam's cock in his mouth, his own trapped cock twitching as arousal poured through him. The cock ring had kept him hard most of the night, but this was the biggest test he'd had so far, the ring tight around the base of his cock.

Adam leaned back against the wall behind him and let Beau work, just enjoying it. Beau was always so enthusiastic about this. "Good boy," he murmured as he pet Beau's hair gently. "Such a good boy for me." Beau really was an amazing submissive. Even his snarky attitude was mostly just playful, he was always respectful of Adam, even when he sassed him. And the fact that Beau had sought him out today to ask for a dance made Adam's desire all the stronger. It wasn't long before he was fully hard, and he twisted his fingers in Beau's hair to pull him back. "Up." He grabbed Beau by the arm and pulled him to his feet, not bothering to be gentle about it, and then turned to shove Beau against the wall that Adam had been leaning on. He caught a glimpse of the ring on Beau's cock, which was good, because he didn't want the submissive to come. He leaned close, pressing Beau's front roughly against the wall. "Tell me what you need, slut. Beg me. Or I'll leave you empty and find some other slut to use."

Normally, hearing a Dom say that would immediately turn him off and make him walk away. For him. He wasn't just a good boy for one Dom. But in this moment, where everything was about Adam and pleasing him, the words washed over him like warm honey, sticky and sweet and everything he needed. He let out a whimper when he was pulled to his feet and shoved against the wall, the rough handling making his cock twitch. The threat made him tense up and shake his head. No. No, he couldn't let that happen - he couldn't let Adam go use someone else when he was here and ready and needed Adam inside him like he needed to breathe. "Please... please, Sir, please use this slut, please use my ass, fill me with your cock, please, Sir, please..." he begged hurriedly, the words nearly a sob in his desperation to keep the Dom right where he was.

Hearing the desperation in Beau's voice turned him on, but it also made Adam regret threatening the sub. He hadn't meant to make him actually afraid that he'd be abandoned, and the emotion in his voice suggested he was genuinely worried. "Good boy," he murmured as he slipped a hand between Beau's cheeks to feel his hole. He knew Beau wouldn't mind some pain, but he wanted to make sure he was stretched enough not to tear. Adam's finger slipped in easily enough, and he could feel lube inside, probably left from the plug Beau had been wearing. He took a second to line himself up and pushed the head of his cock into Beau's ass. There was more friction than there would be if he was properly lubed, but not enough to be uncomfortable. He assumed it was painful for Beau, but that was sort of the point. "Relax, slut, I've got you," he said into Beau's ear, and he pushed in harder. "You're a good slut I wouldn't leave you empty. You know I wouldn't."

The praise helped ease his worry, as did the touch to his needy hole. "Thank you, Sir," he panted out, spreading his legs, practically vibrating with need to have Adam inside of him. Beau whimpered when he did push into him, the stretch bordering on too much, but when the Dom whispered in his ear he shuddered, melting back against him. "I know, Sir. You'll give me what I need... I trust you," he whispered back, his heart pounding in his chest as the words passed his lips.

"That's right, I'll give you what you need," he said softly, and kissed the hinge of Beau's jaw.  Beau was so, so sweet when he went into subspace, and Adam wanted him soft and pliant and needy, but not anxious or worried.  Desperation was good, but fear wasn't, and right now, Adam would rather have Beau feeling relaxed and confident that Adam would take care of him.  And hearing Beau say that he trusted him thrilled him.  Adam thrust into him harder until he was fully inside of him, his hips pressed to Beau's bare ass, his whole body trapping him and pushing him into the wall.  "Relax for me, beautiful," he murmured.  "You're a good boy, and I know how you need to be used."

The press of Adam’s lips on his jaw made Beau whimper, the tension in his body disappearing. His eyes closed as he felt the Dom sinking into him, his thick cock filling him so perfectly. His palms pressed to the wall, bracing himself, though he knew he wasn’t going anywhere that Adam didn’t want. “Yes... use me, Sir, please... please,” he whispered, wriggling his hips backwards, needing so badly for the Dom to pound into him - to pretend for one moment that Adam only wanted him, which was something he would regret even thinking later.

Adam groaned both at the tight heat of Beau's ass and the needy whimper.  It was incredible to have such an effect on him.  "Of course, beautiful.  I'll always use your desperate slut holes, you don't need to worry."  He pulled back and thrust into Beau hard, knowing that he needed it rough right now, hard enough to make him feel used.  And Adam loved being rough enough to make it hurt for the sub, especially when they were so needy for him.  He slammed in again and again, driving Beau into the wall.

All he could do was hold onto the wall and go along with the ride. Adam started pounding into him so perfectly, using his ass exactly how he needed, keeping him full and throbbing. Even the pain was perfect, drawing throaty moans from the sub with each thrust. “Yes... fuck yes, Sir, don’t... please don’t stop, Sir,” he begged, rocking back against him as best as he could.

Adam was gripping Beau's hip tightly with one hand, and he moved his other to cover the boy's throat.  He didn't quite squeeze, just dug his fingers in and used that grip as leverage as he pounded into the sub's ass.  Beau's mouth had gotten him part way there, so it wasn't going to be too much longer before he came.  He grunted with the effort as he slammed into Beau with bruising force.

Beau gasped when he felt the hand on his neck. A thrill tumbled down his spine, but it wasn’t purely fear. One hand lifted from the wall to cover Adam’s hand on his throat, holding him there, just needing to touch the Dom in some way. A feeling of accomplishment hummed through him, hearing the sounds of pleasure from Adam, knowing it was him that was doing that for the gorgeous, powerful man. “Fill me, Sir, please... fill me, want to feel you inside me,” Beau breathed, flexing his ass around Adam, wanting his cum deep inside of him.

Begging always went straight to his cock, every time, and this was no different.  Hearing Beau beg for his come was enough to send him over the edge.  Adam slammed into him twice more, hard, and groaned as he came.  He leaned forward, pressing his whole body against Beau, trapping him against the wall as he released finally and came into Beau's ass.  He stayed there as the orgasm faded, panting.  "Such a good boy," he murmured after a moment, and kissed Beau right below his ear.

He shivered violently as he felt Adam release, gripping onto the Dom’s hand. The wet heat inside him was so perfect, and feeling Adam draped against his back was everything he wanted in that moment. “Thank you, Sir,” he breathed, resting his forehead against the wall, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. His head still felt foggy in the best way, fingers still wrapped around the back of Adam’s hand, not ready to let go yet. He wasn’t ready for this moment to be over.

He shivered violently as he felt Adam release, gripping onto the Dom’s hand. The wet heat inside him was so perfect, and feeling Adam draped against his back was everything he wanted in that moment. “Thank you, Sir,” he breathed, resting his forehead against the wall, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. His head still felt foggy in the best way, fingers still wrapped around the back of Adam’s hand, not ready to let go yet. He wasn’t ready for this moment to be over.

"You're welcome," Adam murmured into his ear.  "You know I'll take care of you.  Such a good slut."  He kissed Beau's neck, and slipped his softening cock out of the sub.  "Here, turn around.  Good boy.  Lean on me."  He manhandled Beau into turning to face him and wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him tightly to his chest.  "I've got you.  Does that feel better now, beautiful?  With my cum dripping out?"

The comforting tone of Adam's voice in his ear brought a smile to Beau's lips, and though he didn't like the feeling of that cock slipping from his hole, he did love how strong arms wrapped around him. Beau nuzzled into Adam's chest, breathing him in, his arms around his trim waist. "Yes, Sir.. feels so much better, thank you, thank you for using me," he whispered, drinking in the wonderful feeling of being held like this - something he would only indulge in when his head felt like it did.

Adam pressed a kiss to Beau's hair on the side of his head. "You're welcome, little slut," he murmured affectionately.  He held Beau tight against him and leaned his cheek on the side of Beau's head. "You're always so good for me. Such a good boy. It makes me proud to see you trusting me to take care of you and use you like you need."

He felt his cheeks flush under the praise, the unfamiliar feeling of it beginning to jar him out of the subspace he so loved. "I have no reason not to trust you, Sir," Beau murmured, his cheek still pressed to Adam's chest. "Or not to be good for you. I... I like that. Being good for you," he admitted in a small voice, as if the words frightened him to say.

Adam tipped his head so he could press a kiss to Beau's temple. He wasn't sure why Beau sounded so tentative, but it made Adam had hold him all the tighter. Was he still worried because Adam had threatened to leave him empty? It had been an idle, playful threat, he hadn't expected it to affect Beau so much. "I like it too," he murmured. "The way you submit to me is beautiful." He kissed Beau's temple again, and then pulled back just a tiny bit, still holding Beau tightly, and moved one hand into the sub's hair to tip his face up just enough that Adam could kiss his lips softly.

It was scary because that meant he was trusting. That meant he was vulnerable. Susceptible to ‘this Dom’s whims and wants. And when in the end, he didn’t want Beau... of course, this line of thinking was interrupted when a finger touched his chin, tilting his face up so warm lips could touch to his own. Beau melted against the other man, holding onto him tightly, returning the kiss just as gently as it began. “Oh Sir,” he whispered without thinking when their mouths parted, his heart beatin erratically in his chest. He looked up at Adam with a warm smile, still lingering in subspace, the kiss having cut off those real world thoughts he didn’t want.

Beau's response was perfect. He was perfect. Adam looked down at him with an expression that radiated contentment and joy. "You're such a good boy," he murmured again, just wanting to make sure Beau knew what Adam thought of him right now. He needed Beau to know how special he was. After a second, Adam tipped his head down and kissed Beau's lips again, just as softly as the first time. Then he pulled Beau against his chest and kissed his temple again. "We should probably get you dressed," he said reluctantly.

The expression on Adam’s face made his heart stutter. He was looking at him like he was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, and praising him, and Beau just wanted to keep that dream for one more minute. Just one more. A soft sound caught in his throat when he was kissed again, his grip on Adam tightening for a moment as he didn’t trust his knees. He leaned into Adam with a sigh. “Probably,” he said in a whisper, though he made no move to get his pants just yet. He lingered against Adam’s chest a few more moments, savoring the heat and strength of him, before gently pulling away so he could tug his pants back on.

Adam didn't want to let go of Beau at all, but he knew he had to.  He wanted to just pick the sub up and carry him back to his suite, but they couldn't do that right now.  It would be rude to their dates, and he wasn't sure skipping out halfway through a mandatory event would be allowed anyway.  So he just held Beau tightly for another moment before stepping back to let him get dressed.  He stayed close, though.  "How are you feeling?" His voice was soft, he was trying to gauge whether Beau was out of subspace or not.  He probably hadn't gone that deep, but Adam still wasn't willing leave his side until he knew Beau was okay.  "Do you need to kneel for me for a while?  Or lean on me some more?  We don't have to hurry back."

As he got dressed, he felt the thoughts coming back into his mind, the fuzzy warmth of his subspace fading away as the reality of the situation set back in. Beau kept his head ducked a bit under the pretense of getting redressed, hiding the play of emotions across his face he knew he wouldn’t be able to repress. When he heard Adam speak, he looked up, a smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be okay, Sir. Promise. Plus uh, I think we’ve neglected our escorts long enough.” Also if he knelt for Adam, he didn’t know if he would be able to go back into the dance and see him with another sub without hiding his... weird feelings about him. “But thanks for the offer. And for... for the dance,” he said, reaching up to straighten Adam’s tie before he could stop himself.

As couldn't pinpoint it, but something was different about Beau right now. Maybe it was just that they had to do a truncated version of aftercare. But it had been a short scene, he wouldn't have expected Beau to need much aftercare. "Alright," he said setting a hand on Beau's arm and squeezing gently. "You're welcome.  Thank you for seeking me out." He sent Beau a fond little smile.

He offered Adam a small smile, reaching up to squeeze the Dom’s fingers lightly. “Thank you for the dance,” he replied. Beau couldn’t help himself from leaning up to press a kiss to Adam’s cheek, his own flushing when he realized what he’d done. “Um... enjoy the rest of the dance, Sir,” he said before slipping back into the main room, not sure what his problem was with feeling so much for these damn Doms.

#dominantsylvester #prom2019 #may i?