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ashiemochi · 1 year

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hey ashie (again)

cause I’ve been working a lot and am tired, could I request a sugar daddy Leon blurb (personally I haven’t read any smut for him in a min), I’d super appreciate it 💓

Ily

wrote this on phone so excuse EVERYTHING ilyt. will fix the format when I wake up.

fucking in the pool mutual masturbation

"Rough day at work, babe?"

"Ugh, yeah. My back is killing me."

"Well, I got just the thing for it."

"What's that?"

if only you knew what he was implying. A hot bath was usually the remedy for a bad day. A hot bath with him behind you and a hand between your legs was something else.

"fuck, Leon... mmh..."

"Shh, don't tire yourself out," Leon cooed into your ear, one hand caressing your inner thigh and the other quite busy lazily stroking your bundle of nerves, "Just relax."

He was only using two fingers; his middle and his index. Your head fell back to the space between his shoulder and chest with a breathy whine, earning a chuckle from him. His chest rumbled with his warmwarm sound, making your hands grip his thighs next to you.

It had been soso long since you've had some private time with none other than your sugar lover. With him being busy with work, you rarely saw him. Your job paid well but at what cost?

So, when you received a notification from your bank account about a huge sum being transferred to you, that was when you knew Leon was back home. And before you could call him, your phone lit up with his contact.

One conversation led to another and now you're in his luxurious bathroom in the black marbled self-heating tub. The glass doors had long steamed up and your whole body was hot.

Leon let out a hummed sound, enjoying toying with your clit in steady strokes as he pressed a kiss or two on the nape of your neck. Trailing them up to your cheek, Leon sped up the pace just a little.

The sudden pleasure jolted you, pushing a moan out of you. Had you been in bed or someplace that wasn't soaked in water, you'd hear the audible noise of your wetwet cunt.

"Let me take care of you," Leon muttered with a hazy smile, "Let me make you cum again and again so you can never have to worry about going to work tomorrow. I'm here to handle the money, you just have to enjoy it, isn't that right, sexy?"

You whimpered out, chest heaving as your hips started rocking on their own, trying to have his fingers in you, "Leon-hah,"

"Yes, baby?" Leon answered, feeling your hand leave his thigh to trail to his and you guided him up to your bosom, making him feel your perky buds.

"Need you, so bad," You begged, opening up your puppy eyes to gaze pleadingly at him, "Mmh-missed you,"

Leon grinned, azures heavy with lust before he kissed you, tongue already exploring every nook and cranny in your mouth. His large hand grasped your boob, having your nipple in between his thumb and index before pinching and massaging it, your loud whines coming out muffled by the lip lock.

His hand left your clit to grab your other free hand, guiding you to your sensitive spot and he had you rub your own self. He parted from your lips for a moment, staring darkly into your eyes.

"Play with yourself just like this," Leon ordered, his hand on top of yours over your aching clit, "And I'll have you cum on my fingers, and then,"

Your jaw dropped open at the penetration of his two long middle and ring finger, slowly going deepdeep into your cunt.

Leon smirked at your reaction before whispering hoarsely, "I'll fuck this pussy with my cock till you're cumming all over me."

Suddenly, you were vaguely aware of his heavy dick pressing into your lower back.

"F-shit, Leon!" You squealed at how deep and quick he was fucking your cunt with only his two fingers.

"Don't stop touching yourself, baby," Leon warned breathlessly into your ear, "Keep rubbing your clit for me."

You had no choice but to follow his order and it ripped a loud cry out of you, desperately stroking your little pearl in small circles. His fingers went deep and deep with each thrust that you really thought even you would never be able to finger-fuck yourself like he does.

His other hand roughed up on your hardened nipple, giving the other the same treatment by squeezing your bud in the space between his index and middle finger. Your free hand reached up to his, back arching into his hand as your sounds were getting louder and louder.

"I can feel you close, baby," Leon panted, "Can't wait to be in this sweet pussy of yours, ah~" his words ended in a moan, grunting as his hips visibly started grinding against your back for some friction, "Fuck, baby, I'd cum by just hearing your moans, mmh~"

Your words and begs came out incoherent and airy, feeling the knot tightening hard. Your chest heaved as you writhed, pathetically moaning with tears stinging the corner of your squeezed-shut eyes.

Leon kissed you hard, swallowing your moans as they merged with his at the feeling of your walls clasping tight around his digits. Your hand stilled on your clit, shooting out to grab onto something but you only found the condensation on the glass door. it was cool beneath your hot touches.

"That's it," Leon encouraged against your lips, fucking you deeper as he violated that spongy spot in you and his palm rubbed hard against that sensitive spot on your clit, "Let yourself go, sexy. Cum on my fingers."

Like a huge waterfall, your orgasm hit you hard that sent you gushing. Leon tugged you close when your body convulsed, keeping up his harsh thrusts that had you squealing and gasping. your legs shook and tried to clam shut at the oversensitivity but his ankles went over yours, preventing you from even attempting it.

"Fuck, AH! Le-on! Shit, oh god!!" You yelped, unable to handle how he was prolonging your orgasm.

His teeth sunk into your neck for the umpteenth hickey and that threw you further over the edge, forcing a loudloud moan of his name to the closed walls around you. His fingers fucking finally slowed down to slip out, slowly rubbing your visibly pumping clit to ease you down.

"There, there," Leon purred into your jawline, pressing a kiss there, "I've got you."

His thumb gingerly caressed your sore nipple, feeling your pounding heart right behind your ribs. Your whole body felt fatigued but you knew the night was far from over.

"I don't... think..." You breathed heavily, lolling your head to his side to look at him through half-lidded eyes, "I have energy in me for another round,"

Leon snickered at that, bumping your nose with his as he released your clit to rub your tremor-filled thigh, "That's alright with me, baby -- I'm happy to take the lead."

You weren't just lucky to have a sugar daddy who'd be willing to rock your world and body.

but you were also lucky tomorrow was your day off.

Your giggle came out soft as you nodded, "Good, because I plan on being a pillow princess after this,"

Leon chuckled, both his hands trailing down to your waist as he pressed a deep but brief kiss on your lips.

"That's fine by me, princess."

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #cupid answers #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy thirst hours #sugar daddy leon is back again #all for sugar daddy leon kennedy #sugar daddy leon kennedy

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talonabraxas · 2 months

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Planetary Magic: How to Invoke the Magnetic Power of Venus

The archetypal energy of the planet Venus is feminine, sensual and magnetic.

Venus energy is an invocation of the senses. She encourages us to indulge and luxuriate in our physical bodies. By aligning with her energy she helps us to see the riches already inherent in our lives and assists us in drawing our deepest desires to us.

A Brief History of the Planet Venus

The word ‘Venus’ comes from the Proto-Italic *wenos, with its furthest roots in Proto-Indo-European *wen meaning ‘to wish, love’. Venus is the second planet from the Sun, often appearing in the sky as the morning and evening star. Scientists believe that Venus was formed from great swathes of swirling gas and dust around 4.5 billion years ago. The planet Venus may have once held seas in the past. But these primordial waters likely dried up as the planets temperature rose. In true languorous Venusian style, a full day on the planet Venus is longer than its entire year. One magical thing about Venus is her orbit shape. The pentagram or petals of Venus is the orbit that Venus makes when viewed from earth. Venus creates the petals of Venus every eight years.

Why Connect With the Planet Venus?

Venus is far from just the planet of love magic. Connecting to the planet Venus allows you to magnetically attract your deepest desire. In astrology, Venus rules the fixed sign of Taurus and the cardinal sign of Libra. In French, Friday is named for her vendredi ‘day of Venus’. The alchemical glyph of Venus is the circle on top of the cross . Which symbolises spirits descent into matter.

Venus is the source of the power of flavour. Of precious stones, pearls, and of rocks, lapis lazuli and almartach; and of plants, all plants with a good odour like saffron and arhenda, roses and all flowers with a good odour and smell and are pleasant to look at. Among colours, sky blue and gold tending a little to green. --The Picatrix (Circa 1000 CE)

Orphic Hymn to Venus

Heavenly, illustrious, laughter-loving queen, Sea-born, night-loving, of an awful mien; Crafty, from whom necessity first came, Producing, nightly, all-connecting dame: ‘Tis thine the world with harmony to join, For all things spring from thee, O power divine.

The triple Fates are ruled by thy decree, And all productions yield alike to thee: Whatever the heaven’s, encircling all contain, Earth fruit-producing, and the stormy main, thy sway confesses, and obeys thy nod.

Awful attendant of the brumal God: Goddess of marriage, charming to the sight, Mother of Loves, whom banqueting delights; Source of persuasion, secret, favouring queen, Illustrious born, apparent and unseen: Spousal, lupercal, and to men inclined, Prolific, most-desired, life-giving kind:

Great sceptre-bearer of the Gods, ‘tis thine, Mortals in necessary bands to join; And every tribe of savage monsters dire. In magic chains to bind, through mad desire.

Come, Cyprus-born, and to my prayer incline, Whether exalted in the heavens you shine, Or pleased in Syria’s temple to preside, Or over the Egyptian plains thy car to guide, Fashioned of gold; and near its sacred flood, Fertile and famed to fix thy blest abode; Or if rejoicing in the azure shores, Near where the sea with foaming billows roars, The circling choirs of mortals, thy delight, Or beauteous nymphs, with eyes cerulean bright, Pleased by the dusty banks renowned of old, To drive thy rapid, two-yoked car of gold;

Or if in Cyprus with thy mother fair, Where married females praise thee every year, And beauteous virgins in the chorus join, Adonis pure to sing and thee divine;

Come, all-attractive to my prayer inclined, For thee, I call, with holy, reverent mind.

Goddess Venus by Talon Abraxas

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jordanianroyals · 6 months

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Queen Rania of Jordan: Christmas is canceled in the land of Jesus’ birth

Washington Post Op-Ed, December 21, 2023 at 6:45 a.m. EST

[Read this piece in Arabic.]

Bethlehem usually comes alive at Christmas. Not this year. In the Holy Land, celebrations have been canceled: no parades, no bazaars, no public tree lightings. In my country, Jordan, where Jesus was baptized, our Christian community has chosen to do the same.

In the occupied West Bank, oneBethlehem church has adapted its nativity scene, placing the infant Jesus among the rubble of a bombed-out building. It is a reflection of the story playing out on screens everywhere: the horrific images of the destruction of Gaza, and especially, its bloodied and broken children.

I watch a video of a Gazan father stroking his daughter’s face, telling someone to look at how beautiful she is. She could almost be sleeping, if not for her white shroud.

I scroll on and see a young boy struggling through rain and flooded roads, carrying the body of an even smaller child he refused to leave behind. A mother holding her daughter’s limp body close: “Put your heart on my heart,” she tells her, crying out as others try to take her away. She was not ready to let her go.

We need to see in these children’s faces the faces of our own. Each of these videos is a desperate plea to the world to recognize their humanity and their hurt.

The people of Gaza have not lost hope in others’ humanity — even as so many fail to see theirs.

Since Oct.7, the vast majority of casualties in Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip have been civilians. Whether killed, kidnapped or unjustly detained, each person leaves an unfillable void. There is no difference between the pain Palestinian and Israeli mothers feel over the loss of a child.

Every day that goes by without a cease-fire, so much more is being tragically lost.

In just over two months, Israel has turned Gaza into a hellscape. Almost 20,000 dead. At least 8,000 are children — more than the death tolls of Pearl Harbor, the Sept. 11 attacks and Hurricane Katrina combined.

About 2 million out of 2.2 million people in Gaza have been displaced — almost an entire population turned to refugees. More than 50,000 Gazans have been wounded, but only eight hospitals out of 36 are operational.

On top of all this, hunger. Nearly half of the people in Gaza are starving. In more than two months, less than a week’s worth of the aid they need has been allowed in. How could starving a population be considered a legitimate form of self-defense?

International organizations are now calling Gaza a graveyard for children. How perverse that the Holy Land should be described as something so profoundly unholy.

This has become an unequivocal humanitarian nightmare. With each passing day, the threshold of what is acceptable falls to new lows, setting a terrifying precedent for this and other wars to come.

No matter what side you support, you can still demand a cease-fire, the release of hostages and detainees, and unrestricted access to aid.

Some will brush this off as a bleeding-heart plea, arguing that an immediate cease-fire is neither strategic nor sustainable. It is an indictment of the times that a call for a return to sanity could be dismissed as sentimentality. We also hear many talking about peace the day after as though to absolve themselves of the responsibility to act now.

A cease-fire is just the beginning. We must also embark on the difficult process of rehumanization — recognizing the humanity of others and acting on that universal kinship.

I am a mother, and my heart breaks for parents in Gaza doing everything in their power to keep their children alive — and then losing them. All parents share the impulse to shield their children from the worst of the world. No matter who you are or where you come from, your instinct to care for and protect those you love is one you must honor in yourself but also in strangers — even adversaries. Honoring it selectively diminishes our own humanity.

There is another video I will never forget: a mother, saying her goodbyes to her children. After going to bed on empty stomachs, they had been killed in their sleep by an airstrike.

Their mother’s grief is unbearable; her guilt that they died hungry broke me. “It’s okay, my boy. You are with God now,” she says to one son. “I named him Ayoub [Job] for patience,” she explains, and then, through tears: “I will be patient, my child.”

In the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament and the Quran, the prophet Job loses his possessions, children and health. Yet, he remains steadfast in his faith. His patience is honored by Jews, Christians and Muslims, who, at different points in history, have shared the Holy Land in peace. His story is one of pain but also hope.

This war has to end. Today, it boils down to one question that each of us must answer: If you could prevent hundreds or thousands more children from dying, would you?

If so, demanding a cease-fire is the absolute minimum you can do. And we, all of us, must do so together.

#Queen Rania #article

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imaginesandbandfiction · 1 year

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Vigilante Shit

An Outer Banks Imagine

Pairing: Topper Thornton x female!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Very vague mentions of domestic violence that didn't actually happen, having sex for money (slightly dubious consent bc of that at one point)

Summary: You're hired to investigate a rich pretty boy and team up with his wife to nail him for his crimes.

A/N: Enjoy this Taylor Swift-inspired fic, this is what I imagined happening all throughout the song so I wrote about it! Hope you like it!!!

Masterlist

The taxi pulls up in front of a small bungalow and you hand a wad of cash to the driver, thanking him as you get out of the car. You try the front door and it swings open, left unlocked just like the client had said it would be. It’s fully furnished inside, with a simple, neutral color scheme that complements the beach visible out of the windows that line the back of the house. There’s a small, cozy living room off to one side and an eat-in kitchen on the other. Down the hall are two bedrooms and a bathroom. You drop your backpack in the bigger room and then circle back to the kitchen with just your laptop.

There’s an iPhone on the kitchen table, three generations old, next to a charging cord wrapped in a neat circle. You plug it into your laptop and retrieve the iCloud backup you had prepared last week, dragging it over to the ‘New iPhone’ file.

As everything downloads, you run through the mental copy of the file you received last month. It was too dangerous to bring it along with you, so you had committed it to memory and burned the physical copy before you left. Your waitressing job at the Kildare Island Country Club was starting tomorrow, and you were to report there at 2 pm, between the brunch and dinner rushes, for training. The client and her husband had reservations at 7, and she assured you that they would be seated in your section. From there, a few simple steps will position you to carry out the rest of the job, tie any loose ends into a neat bow, and get the hell out. The phone dings when the download is complete, so you add a simple passcode and change the name of the phone to ‘Y/N’s Phone,’ wrapping up the final details before heading to bed.

The next morning, you make a cup of coffee and settle in at the kitchen table to answer some emails from potential future clients before you have to leave for work. In the bedroom you slept in, the closet is fully stocked with a carefully-curated wardrobe. Everything is second-hand and leans towards casual with small details that will elevate the outfits from simple to elegant, like cardigans with pearl buttons and soft, satin camisoles. You put on a short black tennis skirt and a white sleeveless polo cropped just enough to show a small strip of skin and accessorize with a thin gold chain around your neck. It’s enough to spark interest without being over the top, and natural eye makeup paired with a shimmery, peach-colored lip gloss compliments the look perfectly.

At the Country Club, you meet with the Restaurant Manager, Darcy, who gives you a tour around the grounds and then walks you through what a typical shift will look like. You meet the rest of the staff and Darcy leaves you with Karen to train. She’s been waitressing at the club for twenty years and lets you follow her around as the dinner crowd starts to trickle in.

Seven o’clock grows nearer and your nerves melt into confidence. The adrenaline starts to kick in and you get a burst of energy, which Karen takes full advantage of. She has you do most of the work while she supervises, interjecting here and there to answer a question you don’t know the answer to or to give you slight corrections. You’re so caught up in the whirlwind of the dinner rush that you don’t realize the client has arrived until Karen leads you up to a couple in their late 20s, looking glamorous in designer clothes and seated by the windows that overlook the ocean. To be fair, though, you hadn’t even spoken to the client on the phone and didn’t even know her real name, she went by ‘SC’ in her emails. All you had was a general description; strawberry-blonde hair and big brown eyes, and the woman in front of you fit that description perfectly. Her husband also matched his description, with slicked-back blonde hair and dark blue eyes that sparkle with interest as he takes you in.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton,” Karen greets them. “This is Y/N, she’s my trainee.

“So lovely to meet you,” you say, flashing a shy smile at the husband. His gaze drops down your body and then back up to your face, and he smiles back.

“The pleasure is all ours, Y/N,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll take great care of us.”

The woman flips her long, shiny hair over one shoulder and holds a manicured hand out to you, interrupting his husband’s thinly-veiled flirting.

“I’m Sarah,” she drawls, “It’s nice to meet you.” You take her hand and shake it gently. She squeezes your hand three times in quick succession, too light to be noticeable to anyone but you, and relief floods your body at this confirmation. Sarah is SC.

“Are you staying in the old Routledge place?” Mr. Thornton asks.

“How did you know?” You ask in response, furrowing your brows in faux confusion.

“My husband owns most of the rental properties on this island,” Sarah interjects, “so when someone new shows up, it’s not hard to figure out where they’re living.”

“So when you’re ready to move on from that hovel, just let me know and I’ll set you up with something nicer. A girl like you deserves a home as pretty as she is.” Mr. Thornton reaches into his pocket and hands over a business card as he speaks. You tuck it into the side of your bra without a second glance, catching his eye and biting your lip as you feel your cheeks heat up. There’s something dark behind the smirk he gives you; like he’s a predator and you're his prey.

“Thank you,” you respond, infusing your voice with the innocent earnestness that you had perfected over the years. “Right now it’s all I can afford. I had to leave a bit of a shitty situation back home so…” You shrug as you trail off, leaving it up to him to fill in the blanks.

“That’s enough of an introduction,” Karen interrupts, taking a step closer to the table and pulling out her notepad. “Could I get the two of you a bottle of wine to start?” With that, the conversation is derailed but the groundwork has been laid, so you feel good about it.

For the rest of the night, you give their table extra attention. Karen had told you after your initial conversation that they are some of the most important members of the club so she isn’t suspicious, and actually encourages you to flirt with him a little bit. (“He likes to feel important and wanted,” she said. “The wife will pretend to be upset about it, but between you and me, I don’t think there’s much love there.”)

He pays with a credit card and leaves a hefty tip, so when you find an envelope resting on the chair he had been sitting in, you don’t expect it to be filled with hundred-dollar bills. There’s a note scrawled on the inside of the flap: I meant what I said. Call me if you need anything. He wrote a phone number underneath, and you don’t have to check the business card to know that this isn’t a business number. Before anyone has the chance to notice it, you shove it in the waistband of your skirt and adjust your apron so it’s hidden from view, and finish flipping the table. It’s not your first rodeo, so you know that you’ve really sold it, but no other job has gone this well this quickly. Karen’s right, this guy really does crave attention.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur and by the time you make it back to the house, you’re exhausted. You collapse on the bed and pull out the business card. It’s sleek and sexy, with TOPPER THORNTON in all capital letters at the top in a sans-serif, wide-spaced font. Sure enough, the number on the bottom is different from the number on the inside of the envelope, so you toss the card to the side and put the envelope number into your phone. Before you start getting ready for bed, you shoot him a quick text.

Hey, it’s Y/N from the country club. Thanks for your note, I really appreciate it. Guess I’ll have to take you up on your offer to look at some other places ;)

His response is instant.

Don’t thank me yet, we’re only just getting started

You roll your eyes and decide to leave him on read for a few minutes while you take your makeup off and do your skincare routine.

I work tomorrow and Saturday, but Sunday I’m free!

I’ll pick you up at 6

This is clearly a man who has never been told no in his life, but you can work with that. With phase two of your plan already underway, you don’t feel bad about tossing your phone to the side and falling asleep without responding.

Part of you is shocked that he doesn’t show up to the club while you’re working over the next two days, but then again, he’s probably smart enough to know to keep his distance from you in public. People who run successful real estate dynasties usually aren’t stupid no matter how rich they were growing up. He hasn’t texted or called, either. But the asshole is true to his word, and punctual, you’ll give him that, because he pulls up in a dark blue G-Wagen at five fifty-five on the dot. The windows are rolled down and he slides his Ray-Ban aviators down his nose to stare at you as he puts the car in park.

“Ready, sweetheart?” He asks, peering over the tops of his sunglasses. You get up from your spot on the front steps and slide into the passenger seat, adjusting your jean shorts so they don’t ride up. After buckling in, you look up and see that his gaze is stuck on the exposed skin of your thighs.

“So, where are we going?” You ask, getting his attention without calling him out. After all, if this is going to work out, you need him to be distracted.

“I thought I’d show you a place a little further down the beach,” he says, clearing his throat. “It’s still on this side of the island, but it’s closer to the boardwalk and within walking distance of the club,” he answers. You nod and sit quietly for the rest of the short drive, observing him out of the corner of your eye. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the windowsill, tapping along to some invisible rhythm. The slight breeze blows his hair around, and when he pulls up in front of a small but cute beach bungalow with blue siding and white shutters, it’s wild and messy. He runs a hand through the front to tame it as he gets out of the car. You start to open the passenger door but suddenly it swings open and he’s standing there, holding a hand out to help you down.

“Thanks,” you say as you brush past him, keeping his hand in yours for just a few seconds longer than necessary. You turn towards the house and pause in front of it to take it in. “This is really cute!”

“Thought you’d like it,” he says with a smirk. “Now c’mon, you gotta see the inside. The last tenants moved out three months ago so I’ve gotten a few things updated in the meantime - Floors, countertops…” He rattles off a few more things as he leads you inside, unlocking the front door with one of several keys on a keychain he dug out of his pocket. None of them are labeled, but you make a mental note that the one for this house is small and silver with a circular hole through which the chain is looped.

The door swings open and he holds it for you, letting you take in the small entryway.

“The kitchen and living room are just down the hall,” he tells you, pointing to where a short hallway extends from the entrance. “Bedrooms are upstairs, and there’s one bedroom up there, the other is off of the kitchen, next to the garage.” He sneaks around you and grabs your hand to lead you down the hallway. There’s a large, open room with tall windows along the back of the house. The living room has a large gray sectional and two matching armchairs set up around a fireplace, with a large TV mounted above it. On the other side is the kitchen. It’s bigger than the one you have now, all white with marble counters. An island separates the two spaces, with three stools set up on the living room side. Off of the kitchen, there’s a half wall that gives the dining room a little bit of privacy even though it’s still technically part of the larger space.

The dining table is set for two, and there’s a covered pan in the middle. You turn to Topper, eyes filled with questions, and he chuckles as he leads you toward it.

“I thought you’d be hungry, y’know, since I’m stealing you over dinnertime,” his grin is cheeky as he speaks.

“That is so sweet, thank you,” you gush. He pulls your chair out for you and loads up your plate before he sits across from you.

“So, Y/N, tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell, to be honest.” You shrug as you start eating. He’s quiet as you eat, giving you the space to continue. “I’m from Massachusetts,” lie, “I went to school for history education but ended up dropping out halfway through when I met this older guy,” another lie. “He kind of swept me off my feet so I ran away with him. We were in the city, New York, that is, and things were good.”

“But?”

“But…. he liked things his way, and even though I was fine with playing my part in the beginning, it was hard to keep it up long-term. And he would get angry.” You pause there, letting all of the things you haven’t said wash over him. His face is soft and it’s so uncharacteristic that it looks awkward on him.

“So that’s why you moved to Kildare? To get away?” You bite your lip and nod, lowering your head to look at the table as if you’re ashamed.

“Hey,” his voice is quiet and gentle, and he reaches across the table to tip your chin up so you’re looking at him again. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I’m just glad you were able to get out of there.”

“Thanks.” He pulls his hand away and pushes away from the table, coming around to stand next to you instead. His hands find your chin again, tilting your head up towards him. As he leans down, you let your chin tip back even further, inviting his advance.

“What about your wife?” You whisper, forcing your face into a worried expression. He strokes your cheekbone with his thumb to soothe you.

“She won’t leave me. She likes my money too much.” From his tone, you get that he’s sort of joking, but the sentiment rubs you the wrong way and at that moment, you fully understand why she had come to you. But you keep any trace of dislike from your face as he captures your lips with his. He’s greedy, opening his mouth against yours right away. The angle is a bit odd since he’s towering above you and you have to lean your head really far back in order to make it work, but he uses that to his advantage, leaning some of his weight on you as if to make a point that if he wanted to, he could force you to do anything. You run through a mental list of attractive celebrities to take yourself out of your body as you kiss him back.

When his hand grazes your boob, you pull back and hug your knees to your chest, putting a physical barrier between the two of you, playing up the helpless victim card.

“Sorry,” you breathe, “It’s just, I haven’t… Not since him. Do you mind if we leave it there, just for today? I promise I’ll be more ready next time.”

“Of course,” Topper says, reaching out to smooth a hand down your hair. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m okay with taking it slow.” You knew he wasn’t, that he was the kind of guy who would take what he thought he deserved, but he was probably turned on by the whole scared and innocent thing. Willing to play the long game and savor dismantling your defenses until you melted for him like butter.

He drops you off with one final kiss, short and searing, and you disappear into the house and immediately draw a hot bath. While you wait for the tub to fill up, you shoot an email to your client, Sarah.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

Hey SC,

It feels kinda weird to call you that now that we’ve actually met in person, but I’ll keep it up for privacy’s sake. You were right - he fell right into the ‘broken and innocent’ trap that I laid for him. I plan to give a little more next time and really make him feel like he’s fixing me; the bigger his ego gets, the likelihood of my success skyrockets. Thanks for sending over those additional leads! I’ve been able to make a few possible connections but will hold off on the details until I can gather enough evidence to prove them. Plausible deniability will get you far in life, darling.

Anyways, keep pushing his buttons at home. We want him distracted in as many ways as possible, and if you’re holding him at arms’ length, he’ll be more likely to come running straight to me.

After a long, hot soak, you return to your computer and find a response already waiting in your inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

RS,

It is sort of weird being secret pen pals now that we’ve officially met, but I appreciate your discretion and dedication to the job. I knew it would be easy to get my husband to pursue you, but I didn’t think it would happen this quickly! I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s been cheating on me since high school. I’m sure you probably think I’m an idiot for marrying him, but I was young and I thought (stupidly) that he would mature as he got older. That’s the power of first love, I guess.

Thanks for the update!

You smile to yourself at her response, if you weren’t working for her (and starting a pre-planned affair with her husband), you could see yourself being friends with the woman.

***

After another few days of shifts at the country club and keeping a just-flirty-enough text chain going with Topper, he shows up while you’re working on purpose, for the first time. Sarah’s not with him this time; instead, he’s with a group of similar-looking guys, all wearing khaki shorts and pastel-colored polos. They must have just finished golfing because they take a caddy to the bar with them and buy him a shot before they settle in at a table in your section.

Over the course of your very short tenure as a country club waitress, you’ve learned a lot. Most of it came from Karen, who loved to gossip and seemed to know everything about everyone on the island, but rich people tended to think that the staff wasn’t real people, so they were surprisingly loose-lipped about a lot of things.

You learn that the Routledge house, where you’re staying, belongs to a John B Routledge who has made quite a name for himself as a travel vlogger on YouTube. He rents his childhood home to tourists and people needing somewhere to stay for a few months while he’s out traveling the world. You also learn, courtesy of Karen, that John B is Sarah Thornton’s ex. Apparently, she broke up with Topper and dated John B during a tumultuous and confusing time that you don’t fully understand. There was some drama with her family and she ended up breaking up with him and taking Topper back. This is valuable information that you can use to get Topper even more invested in you. He still has a deep-seated hatred for the man that stole his girlfriend in high school, and you have no doubt that part of your charm, to Topper, is the fact that you’re living in John B’s house.

Before you head over to their table, you duck into the bathroom to reapply your lip gloss and pull your top down a bit, showing an additional inch or so of cleavage. Sure enough, he can’t keep his eyes off of your chest as you make small talk with the rest of the group and take their drink orders. Two of the men, Rafe and Kelce, have been his best friends since childhood. The fourth guy, who introduced himself as PJ, is a mystery, but he fits seamlessly into their boys-club dynamic, flirting with you while simultaneously making fun of the rest of the guys for doing the same thing.

Topper is actually the tamest of the group, probably because he has something to hide, but when you drop off their food, he hits you with a wink and a quiet “thanks, babe.” He pays for the whole group, and you notice a note scribbled on the back of the customer’s copy of the receipt. I’ll pick you up after your shift. You tuck the note into your bra and let him catch you smiling to yourself as you start to clean off the table.

Sure enough, his Mercedes is parked out front when you leave a few hours later. He’s leaning against it, scrolling through his phone, but he stops abruptly when he notices you standing a few feet away from him.

“Good shift?” he asks, raising one eyebrow at you.

“Eh, it was alright,” you joke with a shrug. “Some weirdo left me a note, though.”

“You gotta be careful when talking to strangers, Y/N.” He takes a step forward and grabs your hand, tugging you closer to him. “They might get the wrong idea.” He whispers his second sentence against the corner of your mouth, pressing a hard kiss there to really drive his point home. Within seconds, though, he’s gone. When you turn around, he’s holding the passenger door open for you with a little smirk on his lips.

“C’mon, I’ve got something to show you,” he says. With a shy smile on your face, you climb inside and let him shut the door behind you. He’s quiet during the drive, again, but this time, his free hand is wrapped around your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. It’s another short drive, and he pulls into a palm-tree-lined driveway. A large, beachfront mansion slowly comes into view as he makes his way down the driveway. He parks right out front, between a large fountain and the stairs up to the front door, and leaves the keys on the seat.

“What do you think?” He asks you as he helps you out of the car with one hand and gestures to the house with the other.

“It’s gorgeous,” you breathe. “Is it one of your rental properties?” You play dumb, like it hadn’t even occurred to you that he’d bring you to his house.

“Nope, this one’s mine. And Sarah’s away for the weekend…” He trails off with a shit-eating grin and holds the door open for you. As he shows you around the first floor, you oooh and ahhh in all the right places, all wide-eyed innocence and fuck me eyes. The tour ends in the kitchen, where he pops a bottle of Dom Perignon and pours you each a glass. You accept it gratefully and take a long sip, letting the cold bubbles dance on your tongue for a moment before you swallow. Both of you lean against the counter as you sip, chatting about some of the small details of the house that he was the proudest of.

The champagne is just a pretense, something to make it seem like you weren’t just here to hook up. But when the glasses are empty, that changes. Topper reaches across your chest to take the empty glass from your hand. Instead of pulling it back towards him, he just leans forward further to set it on the counter on your other side and then side-steps so he’s standing in front of you with his arms caging you between him and the counter.

“This okay?” He mutters as he leans in, stopping just as his lips brush against yours. You nod and look up at him through your eyelashes, lifting your lips in a shy smile. That’s all the permission he needs and his lips are pressed against yours within seconds. His hips press into yours, pushing your back into the edge of the counter, so you wriggle a bit to give him the hint to knock it off. Instead, he hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up onto the countertop. This causes your skirt to bunch up a bit and Topper takes advantage of the newly-exposed skin. To his credit, he doesn’t push your limits, seeming content to stick to exposed skin only. But you know he won’t stay patient for long if the hardness against your thigh is any indication.

You hear the tell-tale sign of a lawn mower starting up somewhere outside and freeze, clutching onto Topper’s shoulders as if staying still will somehow make you invisible.

“Can we go somewhere more… private?” You ask, shooting a nervous glance at the large window above the sink to your right.

“Absolutely,” he says, taking a quick nip at your bottom lip. Instead of stepping back to let you off the counter, he just hoists you up into his arms. You cling on for dear life as he takes you up the grand staircase in the entryway. He opens the first door on the left and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on before he sets you down and his lips are on yours again. His back is facing the door and you take advantage of that, pushing forward until he’s pressed flat against it. You swallow his grunt of surprise and then trail your lips down his neck as you drop to your knees in front of him.

***

The next time, you invite Topper to your place and let him return the favor. Then, he takes you to two more of his rental properties where you do everything but penetrative sex before Sarah leaves town and he finally brings you back to his house again.

This time, you let him go all the way. It’s not bad, but it could definitely be better. You keep him occupied for a while, and when he’s facedown on the bed recovering, you offer to go make him a cup of coffee.

“That would be great, thanks babe,” he groans, voice slightly muffled by the pillow underneath him. You throw on his abandoned button-down and pad down the stairs to start the coffee maker. That gives you just a few minutes of unsupervised time in his house, so you sneak down the hall to his study. The door’s unlocked, but when you try the desk drawers, they won’t budge. There are keyholes at the top of each drawer, and from your inspection, it looks like the same key would open them all. His computer’s asleep, and it’s password-protected, which doesn’t surprise you. For good measure, you run your hands alongside the bottom of the wood just in case there’s anything hidden there, but no such luck. The coffee maker beeps and interrupts your search, but you’re content with the intel you’ve gathered. As you pour two mugs of coffee, you start to devise a plan. A quick detour to the bathroom on your way back upstairs proves fruitful, you find a bottle of Trazodone prescribed to Sarah, and crush up three pills, stirring them into Topper’s coffee.

He’s out like a light forty-five minutes later, but you wait another hour just to make sure. Then, you sneak back downstairs with your backpack. A USB drive with password-cracking software downloaded goes straight into the computer, and while the program runs, you manage to pick the locks on three of the five drawers.

Four hours later, you slip back upstairs with two USB drives full of information, and photos of the most incriminating documents saved on your burner phone. Everything is zipped into the hidden pocket inside the lining of your backpack and you curl up next to Topper to sleep as if nothing has happened.

The next morning, you wake up before he does and decide to give him a little wake-up surprise. It serves its purpose and distracts him long enough for you to make your exit, smuggling the evidence out with you, leaving him none the wiser.

You get into work and take a moment to let out the tension you had been holding in all night. Slumping against the wall in the staff break room, you pull out your phone and type out another message to Sarah.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

I GOT IT!!!!!! Evidence is in hand. I know the hearing’s not for another two weeks, so I can hold onto it until then if you want me to. Also, sorry, I stole a few of your Trazodones. Hopefully getting the evidence makes up for that, haha.

By the time your day shift is over, she’s responded, so you take a second to answer her before you head home for the night.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: RE: RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I knew you could do it! I’ll stop by in the morning on my way to the courthouse, if that’s okay?

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: RE: Status Update [ENCRYPTED]

Works for me! I’m just glad I was able to get it in time.

The next two weeks pass by in a blur of work and secret meetups with Topper, who suspects absolutely nothing. You’re still his shiny new toy, dressed up like a present for him to unwrap. The only time he mentions the impending divorce hearing is late one night when he shows up at your place unannounced. His kisses taste like whiskey and the smell of cigarette smoke lingers on his jacket. You lead him to the bedroom right away, knowing that he’s looking for a way to get out some of his drunken frustrations, and sure enough, his lips loosen as he’s pounding you into the mattress with one hand pressed against your stomach to hold you in place.

“I can’t fuckin believe she’s taking me to court,” he growls into your neck. “Bitch is trying to take half my shit. Thinks she can get our prenup annulled, ha! My lawyers will fuckin ruin her.”

You coo sweet nothings into his ear and brush his hair back from his forehead, which seems to calm him down a bit. Other than that one night, though, he’s been pretty much silent on the whole situation.

The morning of the hearing is here in no time, and headlights shine through your windows as Sarah pulls into your driveway. She’s behind the wheel of Topper’s Mercedes and her hair is pulled back into a low bun with a black and white silk head scarf wrapped around it. Topper’s signature aviators cover half of her face, and somehow she makes it look elegant. A black kitten heel is the first thing you see as she steps out of the car, followed by a tight-fitting yet modest black dress.

“Hey girl,” she says as she approaches the front door that you’re holding open for her.

“Hi! You look incredible,” you tell her. “Topper’s gonna lose his shit.” She giggles and lets you lead her into the kitchen.

“That’s the plan.” She notices the manila envelope sitting on the kitchen counter and runs her fingers along its edge. “Is this it?”

“Yep, it’s all there.”

“Perfect.” The grin on her face is positively wicked as she picks it up and slides it into her oversized leather bag. “Are you going to the courthouse?”

‘I’m gonna try and sneak into the back row right before it starts. That way, he won’t notice me, at least not until after it’s too late.”

“Well, then I’ll see you there!” Sarah sounds genuinely excited about that prospect, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Seriously, Y/N, thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.” You squeeze her hand back.

“Feels kind of weird for you to thank me when you literally paid me to sleep with your husband.” You chuckle. “ But you’re welcome. And good luck today!” With one final, soft smile, she’s out the door and on her way.

You change into your own revenge dress; it shows off more skin than Sarah’s, which seems fitting for playing the part of the mistress who betrayed him. Black platform sandals and your own pair of oversized sunglasses complete the look, and you manage to make it into the courtroom just as the judge is swearing everyone in.

The proceedings are tedious at first; it’s mostly just both lawyers establishing the facts of the case, but when Sarah is called up to the stand to make her statement, things take a dramatic turn.

“I’m Sarah Thornton, and I have new evidence to submit,” she says as she reaches into her bag and hands the envelope over to the judge. He flips through the papers quickly, then calls the lawyers back into his chambers to go over this new information.

“What the fuck?” Topper yells, lunging forwards as Sarah passes his seat. His lawyer is fast, though, and holds Topper back, whispering a stern warning. She just flashes a sweet smile and heads back to her seat, sitting with her head held high, a calm statue in the face of his messy outrage.

It’s nearly an hour before the judge and lawyers reemerge and things move quickly after that. The judge nullifies the prenup, stating that Topper violated one of its clauses and therefore it is no longer valid. His face is burning with rage but he bites his tongue because his lawyer’s got a death grip on his arm. Sarah is awarded the house and all material possessions, with Topper retaining only a small fraction of the cash assets they shared as a couple. It doesn’t really matter, though, because then two cops burst through the doors and make a beeline for a seething Topper.

“Topper Thornton, you are under arrest for insider trading and money laundering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…” the officer on the right recites as his partner puts Topper in cuffs. The man is wild-eyed, turning his head back and forth between Sarah and his lawyer, trying to put the pieces together.

As the police are leading him out of the courtroom, his eyes lock onto yours and his eyes blaze with fury.

“You fucking bitch!” he spits at you, poison dripping from his lips.

“Bye, Topper,” you say, voice light and airy as you waggle your fingers at him in a little wave. You hear him grunting and struggling to break free, but the cops have a good grip on him so he’s not able to escape. Once he’s been escorted off the premises, the judge smacks his gavel against his podium.

“Case dismissed!” He says, and the hearing is officially over. Sarah rushes over to you, squealing, and loops her arm through yours. The two of you walk down the steps, out of the courthouse, and onto the street, into a better and brighter future.

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nullamirrors · 4 months

Text

finally an opportunity to write out my side order theories post and stop thinking about writing a side order theories post… here is my side order rambles

main theory: octo expansion was about envy, return of the mammalians was about nostalgia, so side order will be about ambition or something along those lines. it makes sense: you've escaped. you're climbing a tower over and over again trying to reach the top. maybe this is it. maybe after octo you were only ever out of the frying pan and into the fire.

plus, we had a storyline about forgetting the past, then a storyline about rebuilding the past, so it would make sense that this one would be about the future. (is this the future we dreamed of when we stuck in hell?) the trailer shows what might be a factory producing mem cakes - a machine creating memories. now THAT'S an interesting concept. what kind of future do we want to build, and who is selling us our visions of utopia and why? if people can be made to long for a memory they never even had, what might be the extreme outcome of that?

(if it is a simulated world this time, that means anything can happen. I'm not sure they need to up the spectacle again, but they have a track record of succeeding, so… hopefully this gets wacky.)

probably they will not do this since the splatoon series has made a point of only critiquing the status quo indirectly… but if they are committed to completing this story then it should be about the sea creature society having to reckon with their own failings. the fundamental "joke" of the splatoon series is that everything that exists in it only exists because of the extinction of humanity from climate catastrophe, and yet the new dominant lifeforms have built their own hypercapitalist hellscape with presumably no self-awareness of its shortcomings. it's established in mammalians that the new culture is explicitly modelled on human culture, so logically this is what the whole thing has been building to: an environmental crisis that isn't an external threat that can be quashed through violence but something that requires societal change in order to be averted.

of course, they won't do this. (it's good that they don't. it would feel unconvincing from nintendo.) so here is my list of potential villains for side order:

• Marina: this is a popular suggestion given her general absence from the gameplay that's been shown, and while I wouldn't be totally surprised I think it's more likely that marina is kidnapped or something. maybe the spire of order was her project but something went wrong. I'm just not sure what the storyline would be if marina is the villain (unless she is the revolutionary leader from my other idea) also pearl and marina will kiss when they reunite you heard it here first

• A Mark Zuckerberg Type: there's a lot of implication that side order takes place in some sort of virtual world, so it makes sense that this would be splatoon taking on the "metaverse". (were the levels in previous games all meant to be physical spaces?) it's probably most likely that the villain would be a new company and new character, but maybe this will be the director of ancho-v games or something.

• A Revolutionary Group: this would make sense with the idea of the splatoon series always - in its surface text - being about preserving the status quo. I'm not sure how that would connect with the design of the world, though, given that it seems to be very much about ostentatious with an aesthetic that mixes neomodern instagram bland white rigidity with pastelly makeup/fashion styles and old-school gilded art-deco (or is it nouveau) temples of wealth. it basically looks like if a bank was designed for tiktok? that doesn't scream revolutionary to me, but then this could be a case where the skeleton fish things are attacking the tower rather than them being the tower attacking the characters. maybe the bad guys are trying to corrupt the virtual world before the resources required to run it destroys the planet again. maybe they were right all along…

• Acht: well, the skeleton fish do seem like their kind of style. they could easily be a revolutionary as above. I suspect their role will be more limited though - it's not like Harmony is a main character, and even the idols in octo/mammalians have pretty limited story roles in the grand scheme of things. plus, why would they ally with agent 8 while also trying to kill them? for… test data? (well, we don't know the full implications of acht's sanitisation…)

• Commander Tartar He's Back: as great as a villain as Tartar is, I don't think there'd be any value to come from a rematch. just please not a character from the past this time

• A Different AI (ORCA?): would fit with the "metaverse" idea, but like. we already had an AI villain. I guess ORCA is basically the only loose end from mammalians - a lot of focus on a character who essentially has to role in the plot - but I wouldn't be surprised if that's just because they reused so much of octo expansion's structure in mammalians, needed a new character to fill the cq cumber role, and didn't have any greater plans. but there is that ominous gladosy chamber in the main trailer, so..? maybe agent 8 is being tested, in order to simulate their behaviour. maybe agent 8 is the villain - or a virtual clone… (no that will 100% be a boss fight)

• Toni Kensa: this is probably my favourite idea. it's a character who's been around since the first game but afaik has never been visually depicted. there is an interview in the octo expansion artbook that reveals basically nothing? while the white-and-gold aesthetic of the spire of order isn't an exact match for kensa's iconic black-white-red colour scheme, it's still monochrome, and 100% looks like the kind of thing an evil fashion emperor would build. this would also fit with the idea of a threat coming from within the squid society—although kensa could turn out to be a killer whale, which would be visually interesting but a bit annoying to have another mammal villain.

• Agent 4: another loose end, but could just as easily be dealt with in a throwaway line or cutesy reunion. if it is them, hopefully they are not brainwashed and actually have motivations. (kid icarus: uprising 🤝 splatoon 2 octo expansion - ruining an interesting twist with mind control) I don't know what those motivations would be, but they could be involved with any of these other possible groups.

• There Is No Villain: all the bad stuff is just a manifestation of human cephalopod intolerance! I mean maybe, but this is the splatoon series. they like to have you shoot a big thing with paint until it dies. it would be nice to have the conflict be more nuanced (outside of subtext) but I suspect that doesn't really suit the gameplay style of Kill Things

• Craig Cuttlefish: it SHOULD be him. but it won't

like, at the very least I hope it isn't another villain from the past. they just about managed to keep it interesting in return of the mammalians, and I do love that this is basically the only time i can think of where a sci-fi/fantasy story has outright cast humanity as the villain, but it's getting repetitive.

anyway as you can tell I think a lot about splatoon and am very excited for whatever this is going to be although it would be funny if it turns out to be bad

#splatoon #side order #splatoon series analysis

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fogwitchoftheevermore · 6 months

Text

ok i did this last season and did! poorly! but that’s ok let’s see if i can predict the placings for everybody this season, since it looks like next session might be the last. in the event we get session 9, i’ll be changing the list to reflect that. (bolded are the correct ones, i’ll be reblogging this when all is said and done with the ones i got right bolded, if any)

17. Lizzie

16. Jimmy

15. Mumbo

14. Tango

i’m sorry king i just think something is going to happen again and you’re already not doing great on the heart front

13. Skizz

if i’m right this will not only be the best skizz has ever done but also the first time he’s outlived any of his allies. so can i please be right.

12. Scar

i KNOW scar is still yellow but he’s only got like a row of hearts left AND half the server wants to kill him AND he has no friends. frankly it’ll be a miracle if he makes it to 12th. i’m honestly banking on skizz getting killed in a fight with him.

11. Martyn

i hope martyn gets another kill in before he goes (though if he does that might give him a better shot than i think he has) but it’s really his complete lack of allies that’s going to screw him, i think. like, yes, half the server is red like him now, but how many of them are going to be his friend after he’s spent like four sessions harassing and trying to kill them? not many!

10. Joel

bdubs and joel are truly interchangeable on this list, i REALLY can’t decide which of them will go first. they’re both red, they’re both bloodthirsty, they’ve both got the same allies, and they’ve both got a TON of hearts left. ultimately i think joel will go first because he’s always going to be more reckless in his attempts for revenge but it’s really a toss up.

9. Bdubs

i hope bdubs kills etho before he dies i think it would be great. that’s not related but i think the joel blurb explains my thoughts.

8. Grian

grian wants to win So Bad and it is NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. he WILL die doing something stupid and i WILL get to mark off a square on my bingo card.

7. Bigb

i’ll be so honest i WANT bigb to be higher, and i think he and gem COULD swap spots. the real problem is how hesitant bigb usually is to kill people. he’s definitely gotten less hesitant as the seasons have gone on, but he is definitely not on gem’s level yet, and that’s what you need to play this game. i really hope i’m wrong about this placement though.

6. Gem

when gem went yellow so early i really thought she was screwing herself but session 7 proved to me that while she might not win this season, by god she’s going to take everyone down with her. and i think that’s beautiful.

5. Scott

this is the one i really really hope i’m wrong about. please i can’t keep seeing scott smajor in the top five. joel please destroy him.

4. Pearl

pearl doesn’t want to win again, we know this, but she is simply VERY GOOD AT THIS GAME! ultimately i think once the rest of the mounders (particularly bdubs) are gone she’s gonna go off the rails even more than she already has and i think that’s beautiful.

and just like last time, i’m doing a cop out answer for top three, which i think will be Impulse, Cleo, and Etho. i think Cleo or Etho is more likely of the three to win, particularly if this is our top three (just like liml, Impulse is stuck with two other people who everyone knows, including himself, will kill Impulse long before they kill each other) but i, as always, have a terrible blind hope for Impulse. please god.

#secret life spoilers #space rambles #IF IM TERRIBLY WRONG NO ONE LOOK AT ME #BUT I WANTED TO GET MY HUBRIS OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE SESSION 8 GETS FILMED

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sgdreamhome · 1 year

Photo

The River Valley is a mixed-use development in central Singapore that contains residential, commercial, and leisure components. Check out the latest New Landed Developments and new condo river valley, including photos, floor plans, and virtual tours!

#new condo river valley #one pearl bank site plan #one pearl bank top #canninghill piers launch date #canning hill piers condo

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impromptu-sketches · 6 months

Note

Hello, do you mind if I ask your fav BL based on this categories? But all category must have different BL titles.

Manhua

Manhwa

Manga

Omegaverse

Shounen ai

Younger top

Younger bottom

Seme redflag

Uke redflag

Most greenflag couple

Most redflag couple

Enemies to lovers

Childhood friend to lovers

School life

Thanks if you want to answer.

♡ Thank you for the prompt! I'm so sorry in advance, I already know I can't possibly narrow down these categories down to just one for each. I'll try my best.

Manhua

19 Days

Boys Dormitory 303

Manhwa

Semantic Error

The Pizza Delivery Man and the Gold Palace

Killer Crush

King's Maker

Punch Drunk Love

Banana Scandal

Under the Green Light

Hold Me Tight

December Rain

Sign

Anemone Theater

Blood Bank

Shutline

Oh! My Assistant

4 Week Lovers

Our Sunny Days

Manga

Mother's Spirit

The World's Greatest First Love

Twittering Birds Never Fly

Coyote

Cherry Magic!

Indonesian Webtoon (I'm adding my own category for two BLs by the same author)

Path to You

Night Fragments

Omegaverse

Unromantic Romance

Shounen ai

Killer Crush

Sasaki and Miyano

Path to You

Younger top

Under the Green Light

Pearl Boy

Lover Boy

Miscreants and Mayhem

Younger bottom

Full Volume

Sign

Anemone Theater

Seme redflag

Low Tide at Twilight

Uke redflag

Twittering Birds Never Fly

Most greenflag couple

Hold Me Tight

Pearl Boy

The Pizza Delivery Man and the Gold Palace

Sign

The Third Ending

Sasaki and Miyano

Our Sunny Days

Most redflag couple

Low Tide at Twilight

Wet Sand

Enemies to lovers

Semantic Error

Lost in the Cloud

XXX Buddy

You Get Me Going

Childhood friend to lovers

King's Maker

Dark Heaven

4 Week Lovers

School life

Lost in the Cloud

Sasaki and Miyano

Hirano and Kagiura

Out of Control

Blue Sky Complex

Heesu in Class 2

#bl manga #bl manhwa #bl manhua #boys love #yaoi #shounen ai #19 day #semantic error #king's maker #sasaki and miyano #hold me tight #twittering birds never fly

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nightmarist · 1 year

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I was given Necrophantasmagoria: Vanitas, the revised edition, one book of Takato Yamamoto’s work.

Took pictures of some interesting things I wanted to note, since I love to study his work to mastercopy.

SIZE ADDENDUM: The pieces average around 20 inches/40 cm at the longest side. He varies between labeling sketches as inches, cm, and mm but the final pieces are always mm. Some as large as 35 and 40 inches. Commonly the sizes are (in cm): 30x40, 33x33, 40x28, and 40x20. It looks like he prefers A4 and letter size paper overall. All his paper looks like they have deckled edges so I’m not sure if it’s custom cut, or if he buys a specific brand in standard sizes.

He marks the center top and sides of the first two symmetrical pieces. Note the horned piece, its exact center is not between the eyes but on the brow, which I think is a smart move as it prevents making the gaze threatening.

Note the second row piece, he only penciled in the vague outline of the “nonsense” and only vaguely sketched in the beginnings of what he wanted to draw there (the “scales” or “petals”). An interesting if not relieving contrast to the all too perfect linework. The exact center is also trained on the pearl in the middle of the body. Also to note, it’s underneath the “odd eye” at the characters chest which the piece is titled, also refraining from direct eye contact with the viewer.

The solo piece in the center, I love how messy the hair is, almost frustratingly sketched in with eraser marks compared to the rest of it being so clean. There are eraser marks and you can see the old, dark lines from redrawing it several times. I’ve been there…

“The Magus” under sketch, the editor noted the piece was lost for 10 years and shown in this revised edition for the first time. I love how messy it is. Some of the messy outlines with vague sketching kind of feels like “yeah, yeah I know what’s supposed to be here”

Last but not least, I love how clean the outline of Saint Sebastian is while there’s really vague zigzags for a background. The outline of the “nonsense” is distinguished while it has no inner sketch details.

Studying incredible masterworks like this is so humanizing. It shows the way the artist thinks about the piece and what is important or unimportant to note immediately or later. Also funny to see frustrated eraser marks.

I like his professional Japanese artist seal. I remember watching a short documentary about seal creators who get commissioned by artists, companies, banks, etc to design seals for their business, and how both rewarding and pressuring it is since it’s a literal signature attached to their prestige or importance.

Artworks presented:

“Something that Controls with Roses and Horns” (2010)

“Odd Eye” (2012)

“Quivering” (2010)

“Until the Moon Sets” (not visibly dated)

“The Magus” (2003)

“Saint Sebastian” (2005)

#art #takato yamamoto #japanese art #asian art #sketch #sketches #saint sebastian #eroguro #ero guro

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isaaccadrian · 2 years

Text

Saucy Neckline Onlyfans Creator Shen Yuan

My friend just showed me a video about an onlyfans for saucy victorian ankle pics and it got me thinking about Shen Yuan starting an onlyfans page for saucy neck pics where he wears pretty, elegant hanfu that highlight his neckline.

All to prove to Airplane Bro that neck fetish is NOT an actual thing in Ancient China. He is doing this IRONICALLY while spending bank on expensive hanfu and camera equipment that display his neck beautifully. He posts them on onlyfans, expecting like zero views.

Only to wake up the next day and sees that actual people have donated to his onlyfans page and are asking to see more. Some of them are history buffs who get the irony and just wanna continue the joke but some of them are actually thirsty for Shen Yuan's neck pics.

here's this one person who has actually donated a whole whopping 1000 Yuan on just one pic of Shen Yuan's neck decorated with a gold and pearl choker (it's actually women's jewelry but hey, beauty had no gender). The fan goes by the name Junshang and begs for more pics.

They write a whole exposition with paragraphs praising the artistry of the pic and the tasteful choice in costume that does his pretty neck justice. It should come off as creepy because it's so fucking long and detailed but Shen Yuan is actually kind of flattered?

What started as an internet joke to get back at Airplane bro slowly starts to become a weekly thing Shen Yuan does. Junshang becomes his biggest fan, always leaving effusive comments about the beauty of Shen Yuan's choice in hanfu and scenery in his photos.

And without fail, Junshang always attaches a frankly obscene donation to each and every one of his pics. Shen Yuan starts to wonder who his generous mystery donator is. Is he some random old guy with a neck fetish? Is he some rich preteen heiress with too much time on her hands?

Shen Yuan begins to take requests for clothing and scenery choices from top donators and obviously, Junshang always wins that right, even if they have to donate stupid amounts of money to beat out his other fans.

Shen Yuan gets nervous that Junshang will choose something slutty or revealing but his fan always seems to choose something tasteful and elegant that Shen Yuan would have actually chosen for himself. Some fans have actually been hinting at him to do a live cam Q&A.

They want to know their internet troll with the most desirable neckline on the web. Shen Yuan fiddles with the idea and decides that he'll just trial run for now (since he's super shy IRL and can't handle too many people's attention) and just do a 1-on-1 live show.

He decides to auction off his first live show and obviously, Junshang wins by a long margin. Shen Yuan feels a funny feeling in his chest when he sees that Junshang has won his first live show.

He spends hours flipping through all his outfits to choose the one he thinks Junshang will like the most. He finally settles on a black and red number that he knows Junshang adores by the ginormous donation they sent after he posted that pic up.

As the time draws nearer, Shen Yuan gets more and more nervous. His biggest fan has the option of leaving their camera off (because Shen Yuan respects his fan anonymity) but he hopes Junshang turns on their camera so he can finally have a face to the person who writes him such sweet comments. And right on time, the screen lights up and displays the most handsome man Shen Yuan has ever seen. For a second, Shen Yuan is tongue tied. This is his mysterious benefactor? This hot piece of ass?

Holy shit, this is not the type of person Shen Yuan imagined would need to pay stupid amounts of money for his neck pics.

Shaking himself out of it, Shen Yuan smiles and hesitantly asks, "Junshang?"

The man smiles and oh my god, he has dimples.

"Hello, Shen Yuan."

Shen Yuan snaps out of his daze and quickly replies, “H-Hi!”

To his surprise, the man turns shy and looks down bashfully before sneaking a peek up at him like a blushing maiden.

“You’re so much more beautiful in real life, Shen Yuan.”

Oh my God, Shen Yuan can feel the tips of his ears burn. How can a guy that hot be dropping lines like that without killing anyone?

“I-It’s nice to finally put a face to my biggest supporter!” Shen Yuan says.

“Nice to meet you, Junshang!”

“Binghe.”

“What?”

“My name,” the man smiles that cute dimpled smile. “My name is Luo Binghe.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Binghe,” Shen Yuan smiles back helplessly. “So… what questions do you have for me?”

They spend the next hour chatting tirelessly about Shen Yuan’s internet troll onlyfans page (Binghe laughs while Shen Yuan chuckles and defends himself “It seemed like a good idea at the time!”) and about Luo Binghe’s life.

Shen Yuan finds out the Binghe is younger than him (“I should be calling you Yuan Ge!”), loves cooking, and that he’s a university student who stumbled upon his web page in a fit a boredom over studying for his exams.

The hour goes by so quickly that Shen Yuan startles when the timer he set up goes off. He had so much fun talking with Luo Binghe and he is actually a little disappointed that the time is over. Taking a peek at the screen, he notices that Binghe seems to think the same.

“I had a really fun time talking with you, Yuan Ge,” Binghe says. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet with you.”

“You too, Binghe,” Shen Yuan replies and finds that he actually means that sincerely.

No one moves to turn off their screen and Shen Yuan hesitantly chews on his own lip, the wheels in his brain turning. This goes against every online meeting rule he’s every known but fuck it.

“Hey, Binghe?” Shen Yuan hesitantly asks. “What city are you located in?”

The man visibly perks up at the question and eagerly tells him. To both of their delight, they actually live in the same city and neighborhood. Binghe is the one who shyly brings up if he would be open to possibly meeting in real life.

“B-But only if Yuan Ge wants to!” Binghe is quick to add, turning bright red, “I completely understand if Yuan Ge doesn’t want to!”

“Of course I want to!” Shen Yuan giggles at the man’s blushing appearance, “We can continue that talk about ideas for my next shoot, if you’re open to it? You had some really great ideas!”

“S-Shen Ge likes my ideas?” Binghe asks wondrously.

“How about coffee at the local café?” Shen Yuan suggests.

The day of the meeting, Shen Yuan is nervous. He’s dressed in ordinary modern day clothes and he knows that he looks so very plain and boring in them. He’s afraid of disappointing his biggest fan and literally the hottest man on Earth.

When he sees Binghe waiting at the café already 15 minutes early, he nearly has to do a double take. Binghe is even more handsome in real life, tall and built like one of those ancient xianxia heroes from those dramas his sister watches.

The entire café seems just as enthralled as Shen Yuan with the man, all the girls sneaking glances at him and whispering to each other. Binghe just seems to look bored and distant but the moment he sees Shen Yuan, his entire face lights up.

“Yuan Ge!” he waves his hand like an overeager puppy. “I saved us a seat!”

“Binghe,” Shen Yuan smiles, all doubts about his own appearance wiped from his mind. “I hope I’m not too late!”

“Yuan Ge is not late at all,” Binghe insists, “I was just too excited and came early.”

They spend an entire afternoon talking again about everything under the sun. Throughout the duration of the conversation, Shen Yuan realizes that he’s starting to actually like his troll onlyfans account. It’s fun and it brought him Binghe.

The afternoon bleeds into the evening and Shen Yuan suggests a local restaurant nearby. Dinner becomes dessert becomes drinks, and before long, it’s late at night and Shen Yuan doesn’t want to leave Binghe.

Binghe offers to drive him home since the local transportation has stopped running which Shen Yuan accepts. The ride is silent but nice in the way that it allows Shen Yuan to percolate his thoughts.

“We’re here, Yuan Ge,” Binghe says as they roll up to his apartment.

“Would you…” Shen Yuan starts then stops again, “Would you maybe want to join in on some of my photos?”

He can see the moment Binghe finally registers his words, face growing so bright it’s like staring into the sun. “I would love nothing more!”

They become one of the highest grossing onlyfans account on the site as supporters become increasingly intrigued by the new addition to their favorite neckline troll’s photos. The speculation runs wild that these two are together.

Shen Yuan smiles at all the comments on his account and neither confirms nor denies these suspicions.

But later he runs another Q and A session, the one free to his fan base and Binghe joins in on the video, sitting side by side with his Yuan Ge while holding his hand and staring amorously at him as he answers the fan’s questions. As the livestream draws to a close, Binghe brings up their joined hands and presses a gentle kiss on Shen Yuan’s knuckles. The Onlyfans site goes down from the influx of traffic.

#svsss #drabble #shen yuan #luo binghe #scum villain self saving system

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avaritia-apotheosis · 10 months

Text

Phantom Children: Redux | IV. No Rest for the Weary

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

← Previous Chapter // MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

Present Day…

Batman made plans to visit Belle Reve Penitentiary before the week was over. The entire facility was made out of thick, gray, stone dotted by uniform windows. It stood above the waters of a murky swamp, the edges of the property enclosed by high wire fences.

There were about half a dozen security protocols that needed to be done to gain access to Belle Reve’s inner sanctum. Each layer and set of equipment installed and updated by various construction teams to insure that no single entity could compromise the Penitentiary’s—and thus Task Force X’s—security.

Batman, as he was wont to do, bypassed all of it.

He deposited himself in Amanda Waller’s office. It would have been a spacious room had it not been crowded with rows of filing cabinets. A healthy dose of paranoia made Waller careful to store any truly critical information in digital form, where it can be hacked by some malicious force or given access to by some particularly helpful person. The sorting system, from what Batman could see at first glance, forwent the standard A-Z categories for something else. Probably something that only Waller could understand.

A desk sat in the middle with a comfortable rolling chair behind it and a dual-monitor on top. Behind it was a wide window that overlooked the midnight Terrebonne Parish skyline.

He did not, however, have the time to appreciate the view as Amanda Waller finally stepped into her office.

She was a stout woman with a stern expression, dressed sensibly in a dark, mauve blazer, a white blouse, pearls, and a long, black skirt. A file-folder was tucked beneath one arm. The second she saw him, Waller paused, cocking her hip to one side and free hand tucked into her blazer pocket.

“Batman,” she said, nonplussed. “What brings you here?”

“Information…On a prisoner of yours.”

Waller took a seat behind her desk, setting her folder aside. “As far as I recall, Belle Reve isn’t currently housing any of your rogues. The last one was transferred over to Arkham a few months ago.”

He threw a printed article onto her desk. A small little piece from the Terrebonne Times, more a notice than actual news with what little information it held. The headline was emblazoned on the top:

DEATH AT BELLE REVE

Inmate Dies Under Mysterious Circumstances;Foul Play Suspected

Waller glanced at the article then looked back up at Batman, brow raised. “A little late to be investigating this, don’t you think? The event in question happened six months ago.”

“I need access to Frederick Isaak Showenhower’s cell.”

“Hm. I’m surprised you’re actually asking.”

Batman remained silent.

“Well.” Waller steepled her fingers together. “I suppose we could come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” Batman snorts. “Sure. You give me access to the cell and I won’t tell your superiors that Showenhower—a regular human kept in a meta prison—didn’t die from some dispute between inmates, but from some outside force breaching Belle Reve’s ‘impenetrable’ security. You don’t hold any cards here, Waller.”

“Oh really? If I didn’t, I would have expected you to just waltz into the cell yourself without telling anyone.”

“I hold some respect for you, Waller. That’s the only reason why I’m asking.”

Waller made a pinched, sour face. With a huff, she got up from her desk and led Batman through the winding corridors of Belle Reve to Showenhower’s cell.

“What do you know about Freakshow, Batman?”

“Thirty years old, male, Caucasian, and possibly born with albinism. A bank and jewelry store robber who disguises his hits with a traveling circus show. He has connections with the occult and used it to commit his robberies. APISA apprehended him in St. Augustine, Florida, a little over a year ago.”

Waller laughed. “The GIW’s first and last hurrah.”

The Ghost Investigation Ward—or the Guys in White as it was jokingly referred to—was a fairly new and now defunct branch of the Agency of Paranormal Investigation and Spectral Affairs, focused on the research and apprehension of ectoplasmic entities known as ‘ghosts’. Their less than stellar track record made them the joke of not only APISA but the entirety of Task Force X, instilling within the ward’s few members a tight-knit camaraderie and an almost terrifying level of dedication towards their mission. They were more zealots than government agents. Coupled with their incompetence and their high collateral damage, the group was forced to disband.

“Occultism aside,” Batman said, “small time human thieves aren’t usually the kind of criminals Task Force X would be interested in.”

“You’d be right. APISA and the GIW’s interest lay not with Freakshow, specifically, but with his family. The Showenhowers’ research in the occult and supernatural go back centuries. They’re a veritable treasure trove of information, and as of three years ago, they’re also the only expert on ghosts left.”

He blinked. “Ghosts.”

“Ghosts.” Waller echoed. “Though not exactly the kind that you’re thinking of, but that is what these creatures have been calling themselves. As far as our researchers can tell, these ‘ghosts’ are inhabitants of a dimension tied very closely with our own.”

Suddenly, a spark. A memory. Information clicked into place.. “You learned of Freakshow in Amity Park.”

Waller neither confirmed or denied it.

It made sense, in a way. Though thought of as little more than a tourist trap, Amity Park had gained the reputation of being the most haunted city in America. Though no substantial proof ever made it outside of the city besides extremely blurry shots of light and grainy footage of streaks in the sky, the Justice League knew better than to dismiss the threats, if only because JL-Dark marked the city in the League’s main database with a heavy ‘ DO NOT INTERACT ’ warning for humans and metas alike. The exact situation in Amity Park was never explicitly laid out for the League other than that it was contained and handled and that the League should not, under any circumstances, interfere.

Though for good measure, Constantine saw it fit to bold, underline, italicize, and capitalize the DNI. Most heroes since then have taken to simply going around the city—even going so far as to avoid its air space.

“Well, here we are.”

Showenhower’s cell was located on the highest floor of the penitentiary, at the very end of the hallway and isolated from every other prisoner. Despite it being six months since the incident, all of the cells in this particular hallway were left unoccupied.

The inside of Showenhower’s cell, however, was far from empty. Frost covered the room from floor to ceiling, dropping the temperature by a few degrees. Large stalactites of ice hung down from the ceiling, patches of ice covered every corner and crept up the walls like vines.

“This is where he died,” Batman stated, breath coming out in white mists.

“Right over there.” Waller pointed at the single bed pushed towards the right side of the room. A frozen mattress on top of a rectangular dias that jutted out of the wall and had no space beneath it. “It was a strange thing. One moment Freakshow was sitting on the bed and staring at the wall. The next? He slammed his hand against the wall, froze the whole damn room over, and dropped dead.”

◆◆◆

Pause. Rewind. Play.

The door to the cell slid open and Freakshow walked in. He stood in the middle, surveyed the entire room, before his gaze stopped at the camera discreetly placed in the corner of the ceiling. He blinked, lowered his head, then went to sit down on his bed. Directly across from him was a mirror.

Ten minutes passed in relative silence. Freakshow just sits, tapping his foot. Tilted his head here and there. Scratched the back of his neck. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then— He froze, shoulders stiffened. For a brief moment, a wide grin stretched across his face before it’s pushed back into a stony expression. Freakshow slammed his hand against the wall, ice burst from his palms, and he dropped dead.

Pause.

Rewind.

It had been days since Batman visited Belle Reve. Bruce made little progress in solving the case. It did not help, of course, that there were other things that demanded his attention: a JL founders meeting concerning the admission of new heroes; the rumored reappearance of some stolen tech from Task Force X circulating the black market; his presentation for an upcoming fundraiser for the Wayne Foundation; his regular duties as batman and as CEO of Wayne Enterprises…The list was endless.

Play.

Thank goodness for Tim. His son had a good head on his shoulders and amazing intuition. Though as much as Tim had been arguing with Damian as to who got to accompany him on certain excursions, Bruce could see that Tim was just itching to go off on his own. To spread his own wings.

Reluctant as Bruce was to let any of his Robins fly out from under him…at this point, he’d like to think he had enough experience to know that his children would grow up with or without his consent. Bruce had spent the last year easing up on Tim’s restrictions—much to Damian’s envy. More solo patrols, more casework, a greater degree of decision in his own missions, etcetera. Bruce even let Tim take the lead in the stolen tech case, only stating that he reports any and all findings to Batman and to not engage dangerous enemies alone if able.

Bruce tapped a sharp rhythm on the desk, willing his attention back to the task at hand.

Ice covered the room. Freakshow slumped down, dead. Pause.

Rewind.

He played the video from the beginning once more, fingers steepled as he watched the proceedings.

An ordinary man with no powers at all walks into a heavily fortified prison cell, sits down on his bed, shoots ice from his hands, and dies. No one entered the room with him, and the door remained locked up until security came barreling through the doors a few minutes after he died.

Freakshow sat down, foot tapping loudly—

Pause.

Freakshow’s character profile described him as someone who was very deliberate with his movements. A trait possibly learned from years as a showman. What few footage Bruce managed to scrounge up from Circus Gothica’s shows displayed a ringmaster with a mastery over his own body, each gesture practiced and perfected for maximum effect. What videos there were of Freakshow when he was not addressing the audience—or the dozens of recordings of his stay in Belle Reve— saw a man who stood with uncanny stillness. Hands clasped behind his back, head tilted to the side just so.

Certainly not a man prone to fidgeting and tapping his foot.

Rewind.

Play.

Freakshow sat down across from the mirror, back to the camera, foot tapping loudly. The sound of it reverberating loudly in his tiny cell. He tilted his head, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. How did he miss it before? He zoomed in on the mirror, enhancing as much of the image quality as possible. Freakshow was talking . The words were too inaudible for the camera to pick-up, and his mouth’s movement was too subtle, too quick to be read.

“He knew his murderer was in the room with him,” Bruce mumbled.

“Father?”

Bruce looked over his shoulder. “Ah, Damian.” He rotated his chair to face his son. “What can I do for you?”

“Pennyworth asked me to inform you that dinner would be ready soon.” Damian’s eyes flicked over to the video footage. “Any progress with the assassin?”

“Perhaps.” He beckoned Damian closer to the monitor, replaying the video for him and explaining his own thought process. “Here, pay special attention to the mirror. It’s subtle, but you can clearly see Freakshow speaking— presumably to someone else in the room. Notes on his file indicate that he’s not prone to talking to himself or mumbling his thoughts aloud. Coupled with the uncharacteristic fidgeting—an action that causes enough noise that it masks his mumbling—we can also presume that this conversation contains sensitive topics, ones he wants to hide

“I briefly considered some kind of magic to be at work because of his connections with the occult but disregarded it quickly. Not only is a suicide spell out of character for Freakshow—and also shown no prior attempts to it or any signs of thinking about suicide—but the display of cryokinesis doesn’t fit into the larger picture. And while Freakshow was noted to use magic, he does not possess an innate talent for it like Zatanna. According to Waller, Freakshow’s magic is more in line with alchemy, and his cell was swept every time he leaves it for any contraband or suspicious items.”

He paused the footage and rewound it to when Freakshow sat down in front of the mirror. “So, we can presume that he was talking to the culprit meaning three things.” He held up his index finger. “The first is that his murderer was in the cell with him but managed to remain unseen, perhaps because of some new cloaking technology, though it’s more likely that invisibility of some sort is part of their meta-ability.” He raised another finger. “The second is that Freakshow could sense the presence of the culprit and has enough of a relationship with them to hold a seemingly civil conversation. And the third—” he held up a third finger then curled his hand into a fist— “Freakshow was unable to call for help. Why?

“He was overshadowed.”

Bruce snapped his head to Damian. The words were quiet, so quiet in fact he nearly missed them.

“What did you say?”

Damian clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening imperceptibly as if he, too, was shocked to have said it out loud. Quickly he smoothed his face, features receding into an impassive stare as he took a step back from the monitor.

Bruce decided to press further. “Damian.”

Damian pursed his lips, eyebrows pinched in such a way to indicate that he was deliberating something. “It’s…” He trailed. “How much do you believe in ghosts?”

If someone had asked that question to Bruce when he was sixteen, ten, or even seven years old, he would have answered with a resounding no. Ghosts—restless spirits, monsters, things that go bump in the night—were all mere figments of imagination. Now, however, having lived in the time of gods and superheroes, intergalactic politics, and magic …

“I believe enough.” He tilted his head, a piece of some unknown puzzle slowly making itself known. “You are referring to Amity Park’s breed of ghosts.”

Damian gave a curt nod. “Grandfather was always trying to learn more about the Lazarus Pit. He had some assets—scientists—within Amity Park tasked to do just that. Of course once these ghosts began to appear, grandfather was immediately informed,” he explained. “From what I’ve learned, overshadowing is some kind of possession, it’s an ability that all of Amity’s ghosts can utilize.”

“So you believe Freakshow was overshadowed by one of these ghosts.” The explanation, for lack of another, worked. The lack of any physical evidence, no forced entry or exit—all evidence that could be explained away by ‘the ghost was invisible,’ as much as it irked Bruce to say. Freakshow’s connections with the occult only strengthened the theory.

According to the penitentiary’s blueprints, Freakshow’s cell was lined with a special type of metal composed of ectoranium—a rare mineral with anti-ghost properties. A preventative measure in case Freakshow’s partner, Lydia, or any other ghost tried to help him escape. It should have been impossible for any ghost to phase their way into the prison.

Unless the ghost walked in with Freakshow.

“The eyes give it a way. Look—” Damian reached over to rewind the footage, pausing it at a specific moment. “—His eyes are normal here.” He points at Freakshow’s irises, dark gray due to the grayscale footage of the CCTV, plays the video, and then pauses it again a few seconds later. “But if you look at his eyes now, you can see the faint indication of a glow around his eyes. The color value of the irises are lighter, too. One of the biggest tells if someone is being overshadowed by a ghost is the glow and the change in eye color. “

Another review through the footage revealed that Freakshow’s eyes changed multiple times, often reverting back to his original eye color when he was speaking, and then changing when he was silent.

Bruce grunted, fingers drumming a steady staccato on the arm of his chair, head leaning on his knuckles. Their culprit was a ghost. That information certainly changed things. Not only was Bruce’s suspect list now wiped clean and placed Freakshow’s murder as the lynchpin of their case, there was also the worrying implication that the League of Shadows held command over an extradimensional being whose powerset he was not familiar with.

He glanced up at Damian. “What else do you know about ghosts?”

Damian shrugged. “Not as much as I’d like. Grandfather didn’t share much with me.”

“Hm.” He rose from his seat and set a hand on Damian’s shoulders with a light smile. “You head up first. I’m sure Alfred needs help setting the table.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll head up after you. There’s still one last thing I need to do.”

Damian raised an imperious eyebrow before ducking his head and heading to the elevator. Bruce watched his son’s retreating back, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth downturned.

Damian was hiding something.

◆◆◆

Beneath the eerie, grim torchlight, Plasmius observed the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. It stood, looming above a raised dais where a throne might have been, once. Beneath it on each side were two pedestals encased in glass, protecting the two most powerful artifacts of the Infinite Realms.

The glass cases were a mere formality, however. No one would steal either of the artifacts. To take only one of them would render the artifact useless as only with the ring and crown combined could the awesome power of the Infinite Realms be harnessed. Taking both would be an even riskier gamble. The crown and ring would only deign to bestow its powers on those it deems worthy. Strong. If the wearer did not suit, then the artifacts would eviscerate them before they could even blink.

It was strange to think that Pariah Dark’s awakening would be the felix culpa that saved Plasmius from his own demise.

Plasmius was prideful and vain in nature, but even he was self-aware enough to realize that the artifacts would only accept those equal or greater in power to Pariah Dark— and Vlad was simply not that. Even the Ancients, powerful as they were and the original victors against the old king, were not considered worthy. The only one who might have come close was young Daniel.

‘Close’ being the key word here.

It was unfortunate that the boy never stayed long enough to grow into his powers. If he did, he might have become someone powerful. Someone worthy. A king. (Only if it was under Vlad’s terms after all. A child monarch was never without an older and wiser regent at their shoulder. Taking Phantom under his own tutelage would be a worthless endeavor if Vlad could not come out on top).

Instead Daniel ran away, squirreled himself into a hovel so deep that neither of Vlad’s ghostly nor mortal resources could dig him up. (Yes, Daniel ran away. Was missing. No matter what forensics or the police or his own private investigators tried to say, that mauled and burned body placed beside the Fenton memorial was not Daniel James Fenton. The boy was still alive. It was only a matter of where.)

The sarcophagus shuddered.

Plasmius lifted his gaze to the death mask of Pariah Dark. “It is weakening,” he said, voice reverberating across the near empty throne room. He pivoted on his heel, a sardonic grin on his face as he faced Fright Knight. “Should we prepare for His Majesty to awaken any time soon?

Fright Knight cut an imposing figure in the torch light. “No.” Plasmius could not tell if the ghost was disappointed or relieved. “The sarcophagus holds strong still. In a year or in a decade, my king may wake once more, but that time is not today. For now, he rests in a fitful sleep.”

“A year or ten…how comforting.” Plasmius rolled his eyes. “What brings you here, then?”

“It is the duty of a knight to protect his liege lord against all things.”

“Oh don’t go pretending you’re a loyal knight now. Not when you betrayed your lord the last time.”

Fright Knight narrowed his eyes, then gave a derisive snort. “No, I suppose not. If you must know, half-breed, I was summoned by my creator, and regardless of my own desires I am obliged to answer the call.”

“Your creator— Pariah?”

Fright Knight shook his head.

“Then who—?” He turned to look at the dais again. At the sarcophagus. At the crown of fire and the ring of rage emitting a preternatural glow.

Ah. That explained it.

Of the many paradoxes there were in the world, Vlad’s favorite one concerned the nature of Omnipotence. There were many versions of the Omnipotence Paradox, but the most well known one went like this: could god create a stone so heavy that he could not lift it? While there were many answers to the question and many conflicting ideas, Vlad favored the notion that an omnipotent being could do absolutely anything it desires except that which compromises its own omnipotence. If god is essentially omnipotent, then he cannot make a stone that he cannot lift, for that would mean making a stone that is equal in power to god.

Vlad often wondered why Fright Knight never attempted to seize the sovereign’s artifacts for himself, what with his predilection for ruling. Though bestowed with the title of knight , anyone could see that Fright Knight's true desire was rulership. Dominion . A desire that he could never satiate. The closest he could ever come to it was to serve and stand close to power.

Apparently it was not because Fright Knight didn’t want the artifacts, but because he was, by nature, incapable of wielding them. The artifacts cannot create something stronger than themselves, and they refuse to be worn by anything it perceived as lesser than them.

“My, my,” Plasmius laughed. “It must have absolutely burned you to bend the knee to Pariah Dark.”

The fiery plume on his helmet flared dangerously bright as Fright Knight let out an inhuman growl. “Watch your tongue before I relieve you of it.”

Plasmius held up his hands in mock-surrender. “So, why did your creator call you to Pariah’s Keep?”

Fright Knight paused, intrigued. “Can you not hear it?" He asked. "They are singing.”

Vlad strained his ears, but he heard nothing. Just the echoey silence of the throne room and the flickering of torchlights and Fright Knight’s armor.

If Fright Knight had a mouth, he would smirk. “No, you cannot, can you? Someone of your ilk is not privileged enough to hear their song. But I suppose there’s enough of a ghost in you that you can feel the artifacts’ call even if you cannot hear it.” He quiets, head inclined just so as if he were listening to the song right now. As if the artifacts were speaking to him. “They are in mourning.”

“What would they even be mourning about?”

“A lack of purpose,” he said. “For what is the worth of a tool if nobody uses it?”

Vlad frowned. So they are the reason why the Ghost Zone has been so agitated recently. Like Eris and the golden apple of discord, the artifacts have thrown their song all across the Infinite Realms, proclaiming to everyone to prove their worth, to prove their strength. Even Pariah Dark, trapped in his slumber, cannot resist the call.

Even Plasmius, who was deaf to its song, was drawn to this place.

Plasmius rubbed his hand across his face. “It will tear the Infinite Realms apart just to find someone strong enough to wield it.”

“Perhaps,” said Fright Knight. “You cannot hide your portal forever. It will be found, mark my words.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning, Plasmius. If you wish to preserve what modicum of peace you have in the material world, then you would do well to close the portal and destroy it.”

Plasmius’ face curled into a snarl. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then you invite your own folly.” With a dramatic flourish of his cloak, violet flames licking at the cobbled floor, Fright Knight leveled the Soul Shredder between Plasmius’ eyes. “Challengers will seek out the Uncrowned to prove their mettle, collateral damage be damned. They will find him, or he will find them."

“Will you be one of them, then? A challenger?”

Fright Knight stilled, anger simmering just above his armor. “Mocking me, are you? No, a challenger I am not. My grand purpose in this world is to guard my creators, bestow them to and swear my oaths to my future liege lord, whoever that may be.”

With those parting words, Fright Knight flew off, taking his post at the entrance of the keep, leaving Plasmius alone in the presence of the ring and crown. To bear their heavy gaze.

(Something within him, something that he once thought controlled, thought leashed to his will, reared its head. Want , it said. Want-have-mine. It gnawed at the back of his mind like a starving rat chewing on the bars of its cage. Want-have-mine-want-prove-prove-worthy.)

Vlad squashed that voice with a grimace. He was the one in control, not his ghost. He was stronger than such baser instincts.

(Prove-worthy-power)

Danielle had been working far too hard lately, and as a result she’s been in and out of the portal more times than Plasmius would prefer. It was attracting too much attention. Perhaps a quick vacation was in order.

Besides, it wouldn’t do to reject an invitation from Bruce Wayne himself now, would it?

#dpxdc #phantom children: redux #my writing

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