#v: Quid Pro Quo

[v-arbellanaris]

on divine justinia (pt 3)

Justinia V will be remembered as one of the most progressive Divines in the history of the Chantry. Before her untimely death at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she made strides to break down barriers for both mages and elves, as well as encouraging free thought among the Maker’s many children. For her views, she won as many enemies as she did supporters.

-- World of Thedas Vol 2.

PART THREE of a series, exploring Divine Justinia’s political stance. Was she really as progressive as people claimed?

Firstly, before we even dive into looking at Justinia as a character, we should define ‘progressive’. In the most base of definitions, it implies progress -- a gradual betterment. As a widely accepted definition, someone whose politics advocate for social reform. 

PART ONE - LELIANA'S SONG. / PART TWO - DRAGON AGE II. / PART THREE - THE MASKED EMPIRE.

The Masked Empire

As always, before we begin, here's some contextual factors to this story that are necessary to know/things I'm going to emphasise here out of relevance:

There are three weeks in-world between the events of TME and Asunder -- that means the Order is still bound to the Chantry, and the Circles are still very much in-tact.

One year after the events in Kirkwall, Fiona is elected as the new Grand Enchanter and immediately proposes to secede from the Chantry. In response, the Chantry disbands the College of Enchanters and stops them from meeting, despite the fact that this vote did not go through (in large part due to the urging of Wynne).

The War of the Lions hasn't yet started in earnest, though tensions between Gaspard and Celene are running high.

For the most part, I'm going to focus specifically on two scenes, both involving conversations between Celene and Leliana, who is acting as a representative for Divine Justinia.

Well! Let's dive right into it -- in this first scene, Leliana and Celene meet to discuss the growing mage-templar tensions, and what Justinia will do about it.

Celene: The templars have become even more restless since what happened in Kirkwall, as have the mages, for that matter. What does Dorothea intend to do? Leliana: The Divine does not wish to assume that what transpired in Kirkwall was anything more than the actions of a single mad mage driven to tragic action by overzealous templars. You know that in some Marcher city-states, mages face more restrictions than they do in Orlais.

"A single mad mage" is an obvious reference to Anders. Anders was not "mad" -- some strange writing decisions seemed to conflate his shared body with a spirit of Justice to having bipolar disorder. Even if you do interpret that as Anders also being bipolar, that wouldn't make him crazy. More than that, Anders protested Meredith's treatment of mages -- and he was right about all of it, in the end. Alrik really was making mages Tranquil to rape them -- and he really did propose a Tranquil solution to the Divine, who rejected it. (Unsurprising, considering the looming threat of the Qunari invasion in Act 2; I've written here about how the Circle functions primarily as a military resource and how the only time you see mages let out in Kirkwall properly is during the Qunari invasion when the templars instruct the Circle mages to defend the city). Meredith really was turning Harrowed mages Tranquil -- Karl Thekkla, for example, but she also turns Maddox Tranquil and can turn all of the surviving Starkhaven mages Tranquil as well -- against Chantry law. Most damningly, Meredith had already called for the Right of Annulment in Kirkwall long before Anders took any action at all -- she really was going to kill all of the mages and had taken the steps necessary to facilitate that action. Anders' actions were a direct response to Meredith asking the Divine for permission to slaughter the entire Circle. Cassandra interrogates Varric in 9:41, and it's unclear where that fits into this timeline, but Varric does say that he was brought to Haven after his interrogation. I'll give Leliana (and Justinia) the benefit of the doubt here and say that maybe they don't have the full story just yet.

But Leliana also says "overzealous templars" -- overzealous templars that Leliana and Justinia had plenty of opportunity to censure or bring to heel, and never did. Overzealous templars -- because of course, they're just very passionate when they're sending death squads to hunt down civilians accused of helping "apostates" and murdering nobility trying to organise an election of a new Viscount. They're just very passionate about their beliefs in the Maker when they make mages Tranquil to rape them, when they beat Tranquil mages over things they can't control, and making eleven year old children Tranquil. They're just very passionate about their beliefs in the Maker which is why they refused to investigate the actual serial killer using magic in Kirkwall, because they wanted to remain in favour with the nobility. And Justinia knows this because this was going on for three years, during which Justinia did nothing until the mages started to rebel.

More importantly, this is ... the direct opposite of what Leliana said in DA2. In DA2, Leliana explicitly states that they (both herself and the Divine, who she speaks on behalf of) attribute the unrest in Kirkwall to the Resolutionists -- an offshoot of the Libertarian Fraternity, who are interested in freeing mages from the Circle. Not that the unrest was a result of horrific abuses in the Circle, or even the untenable political situation in Kirkwall. There was certainly no indication that Justinia suspected or agreed that the templars overstepped their bounds -- there was no directive from Justinia, who would have overruled Elthina on the matter, forcing Meredith to back down. There was no statement ever claiming that the templars were wrong to act as they did. If anything, Justinia threatened an Exalted March to help the templars maintain their control of Kirkwall.

So why phrase it like this? I think the interesting thing to note here is actually Leliana's use of the phrase "the Divine does not wish to assume". This seems to indicate that at this time, Justinia is trying not to treat the situation as a mage rebellion - she is treating Kirkwall, not as the start of a mage rebellion, but rather an isolated incident involving a single crazy mage and some passionate templars. There is some indication here that she's reluctant to consider Kirkwall or the mages voting for secession as indicative of a wider problem but...

“I do,” Celene said, “and I also know that you have not answered my question. If Dorothea proposes to do nothing to unite the templars and the mages, she is following in the footsteps of Grand Cleric Elthina, who waited and prayed while Kirkwall tore itself apart.” She turned and faced Nightingale directly. The other woman had reacted again at the use of the Divine’s given name. “Justinia wishes to see this world made better, Your Radiance. We gain nothing by acting capriciously.” “Sometimes events do not allow us the time we wish, especially when magic is at play.” Celene looked at Nightingale, who sat as a proper lady, relaxed and poised in her simple robes, and made a guess. “I understand that during the last Blight, the Circle tower in Ferelden was nearly lost when one of their senior mages became an abomination. After killing the creatures, the Hero of Ferelden was forced to decide on the spot whether to kill every remaining mage in the tower.” Her barb struck home, as Nightingale blinked, then said with heat, “We are hardly in the thick of battle, Your Radiance.” “We are always in battle,” Celene said. “It is only that some of us do not always realize it."

Following on from the thread of the previous conversation, to me, Celene seems to be urging Leliana to tell the Divine to take more definitive action against the mages. She deliberately creates a parallel between Elthina insisting she had control of the situation and not taking direct action to Justinia insisting Kirkwall was a single isolated incident. She directly draws parallels between how Elthina's lack of action led to the situation in Kirkwall and how Justinia's lack of action could lead to a similar situation with the mages and templars.

More alarmingly, however, is Celene's next, far more subtle proposal. To me, I was always baffled by why Celene suddenly started to talk about Kinloch Hold, but after looking at this context, I actually think Celene is suggesting a much more permanent, direct resolution to the mage problem, similar to the kind of decision the HoF had to make - whether or not to annul the entire Circle.

To me, I think this reads as Celene proposing the Chantry goes to war on the mages. She chooses the specific example of Kinloch Hold because Leliana was there - so that Leliana will not misunderstand the kind of action she expects the Divine to take.

To Leliana's credit, she does retort that the conflict hasn't escalated to the point where that's necessary yet, and that the Divine does not wish to act "capriciously".

“Perhaps I might,” Celene said, and smiled before lowering her voice and continuing. “Divine Justinia must know this: I have nobles begging in private salons for the throne to take direct action in this matter.” At Leliana’s shocked look, she nodded. “There are men of Orlais who would sooner see us march upon our own people in the name of safety. I would despise that. Dorothea knows that I would. But I must offer them some alternative.” Leliana stood, frowning in thought. “You wish the Divine to make some overt show of ameliorating the situation.” Celene let out a breath. “In truth, any overt show will bring complaints that I have allowed the Chantry free rein to rule this empire for me,” she said, and Leliana nodded wordlessly. “But if Justinia can calm tempers before I am forced to turn the blade of the empire upon itself, then I will pay such a price willingly.” Leliana smiled. “You think less for yourself and more for Orlais than I had expected, Your Radiance. It is a fortunate quality in a ruler, and one I have not seen enough.” Celene stood as well, and for a moment her gown was bathed in the crimson light of the stained glass. “Tell me something. How large was the Archdemon?” Leliana laughed the delicate cultured laugh of a noblewoman or trained bard. The effect made her sister’s robes look like a poor disguise. “Large enough, Your Radiance, that after having seen it, most problems seem small by comparison.” Her face turned serious, and she added, “I will ask Justinia to consider acting directly. She will want your support, to head off accusations that she might be attempting to steal power for herself.” “Of course. Perhaps if she made a statement at a ball thrown in her honor?” Leliana considered it. “It is not the place where one would expect her to make such a pronouncement…” “Which is why you like the idea,” Celene said, smiling.

Celene makes it clear here that the Orlesian nobility is restless about the growing mage/templar situation which is quickly growing unstable. I specifically want to draw attention to Celene's phrasing here - "march upon our own people in the name of safety" - because I think the implication here that she considers the mages as "her own people" is an appeal to Leliana to get the Divine to act.

But how does she want Justinia to act? At a first glance, it seems reasonable here that Celene is asking for Justinia to try and talk to the mages and templars and settle things between them. Except, when Leliana specifically asks whether Justinia should "make some overt show or ameliorating the situation", Celene's response is that "any overt show will bring complaints" - which reads to me as a decline. She is declining that Justinia should try to reason with both parties.

On top of that, there's some more ambigious phrasing here. ".. if Justinia can calm tempers" - Celene makes no mention here of whose tempers she means. From a first glance perspective, or even from Leliana's perspective, it might seem like she's referring to the roused tempers of the templars and mages, following on from the actions in Kirkwall. But with the context of the previous paragraph in mind, where she very much points out that the nobility of Orlais are not happy with the state of the mage/templar situation, I think she's referring to Justinia doing something that will calm the tempers of the nobility of Orlais.

Later, she follows it up with the phrase "I will pay such a price willingly", referring to the public loss of opinion with the nobility if Justinia can calm these tempers. To Leliana, I imagine it reads as something magnanimous - indeed, Leliana even says that Celene thinks "more for Orlais" than herself, which was unexpected.

But to me, it reads as Celene promising Justinia that if the situation worsens, if Justinia calls for an Exalted March on the mages, Orlais will answer the call. Orlais is willing to march on the mages, if only Justinia calls for an Exalted March, and Orlais -- through it's Empress -- is willing to lose the small amount of public opinion - that people might whisper she's allowing the Chantry free reign of Orlais (and, presumably, all it's resources, for the purposes of this Exalted March, which is actually... an interesting perspective for Orlais to take. But I will not get sidetracked here) - if it accomplishes the greater goal of resolving the mage/templar tensions directly and definitively, because the lack of resolution is causing a negative reaction from the Orlesian nobles, which we know Gaspard is taking advantage of.

(Important to note: at this point, an Exalted March is still entirely feasible; the Order is still bound to the Chantry by the Nevarran Accord. Justinia has been considering an Exalted March since 9:37, though Leliana's dialogue suggests she's hesitant to go through with it. Historically, Orlais has contributed to the Exalted Marches and has been the sole contributor of at least one Exalted March.)

But Vee, I hear you say, this is absurd. Surely, this is a bad faith reading of the situation, no way Celene would propose something like this. No way Leliana or even Justinia would agree to this.

I have several counterarguments to this: firstly, the Grand Game of Orlais relies on complexity of word play and layered meanings. It relies on saying on thing and meaning, at the very minimum, three other things. It's entirely plausible for Celene to be appealing to Leliana's sense of empathy and justice, to seem to be proposing that Justinia soothe the tempers of the mages and templars to prevent something worse from happening, using the same words that she's actually proposing something entirely different - and more violent and direct - to Justinia with.

Secondly, by the time Justinia calls for the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she already has a writ for the creation of the Inquisition prepared and Leliana already has agents planted in the Hinterlands, only minutes away from Redcliffe, where the mage rebellion is seeking refuge. The Inquisition was planned and I am fairly sure that the Inquisition was created specifically to march on the mages. This is not a last minute thought - that writ is huge - this was planned. This was in the works already - why isn't it feasible that this is where it starts? Justinia was already considering an Exalted March on Kirkwall. Why is it so unfeasible that she'd consider more direct action to deal with the mages?

Thirdly, there's actually a follow-up conversation with Leliana about this that I think pretty much confirms that this is what Celene and Leliana (and as she's a proxy for Justinia, also the Divine) are discussing here.

Take the next excerpt:

Celene shut her eyes. “And what does the Divine think about this?” Leliana smiled. “The Divine has never had a very high opinion of the theater, Your Radiance.” At Celene’s silence, the Divine’s representative sighed. “The elves are the children of the Maker, just as we are, and just as deserving of His grace.” “But the Divine will not say that,” Celene guessed. Leliana looked away. She had been trained as a bard, so every movement she made was likely deliberate, but Celene thought that her discomfort was genuine. “I have … been comrade-in-arms with elves. I would not see them harmed. But you did not ask for her support in that matter.” She looked back at Celene. “You asked for her support calming the templars and the mages.” “Indeed.” Celene nodded. “And will she give that support?” Leliana let out a breath. “She will,” she said, nodding slowly, “but in return, she needs to know that this matter with the elves is under control.” Celene felt her heart break inside her, for all that she had known within moments how the conversation would go. She breathed a tiny sigh, and then said, “Of course. I could hardly ask the Divine to keep her affairs in order were I not willing to do the same myself. I hope you enjoy the coming ball in Justinia’s honor. I fear I will not be able to attend in person.” “The Divine understands,” Leliana said, and in a soft, sad voice, added, “Walk with the Maker’s blessing.”

I've written a little bit before on how Justinia doesn't seem to care very much about the methods that Celene uses to resolve the situation with the elves -- it's Leliana who hopes for a peaceful resolution. It's Leliana who believes elves are children of the Maker.

But I actually think what's happening in this scene is more horrifying than I initially thought. This is the second interaction between the two -- and with the context of the first scene, it feels like this is Leliana saying the Divine has agreed to more drastic measures for the mage rebellion if Celene will also deal with the elven rebellion. That the Divine will accept Orlais' support and march on the mages if Celene can deal with the elven rebellion quickly.

This is Leliana passing on Divine Justinia's agreement to a more permanent solution to the mage rebellion. This is Divine Justinia agreeing to an Exalted March on the mage rebellion, and agreeing to support Celene if Celene will support her. Justinia's support here is conditional on Celene maintaining control - and Celene's support is conditional on Justinia maintaining control.

That's...horrifying. But why else would Leliana sound sad, unless she knew exactly what Celene was going to do? What the Divine was allowing Celene to do? What the Divine was telling Celene to do in exchange for the solution Celene proposed? Celene herself explicitly states that she cannot ask the Divine to take action without also being willing to take kind of action herself.

And as we know, the direct action Celene takes to deal with the rumours in Orlais of her sympathising with elves, to solidify her political position, is to slaughter all the elves in the Halamshiral alienage. That is the clearest indication to me that what Celene was proposing was an Exalted March on the mages - and the Divine agreed.

i want you to keep in mind that, at this stage, the College of Enchanters has been dissolved. Fiona has proposed seceding from the Chantry but the vote did not pass. For the most part, there is no mage rebellion currently; they've been cut off from each other, their right of assembly has been revoked, and the templars are still very much aligned with the Chantry. What Justinia is agreeing to here is if the situation gets worse, she will take action, and Orlais will back her up on it.

This sets up the background for Asunder; the Divine's last ditch attempt at resolving the situation before she takes definitive action against the mages.

Could they be with Gaspard, countering Celene’s plan? Unlikely. Ser Michel would never have turned traitor, and while Melcendre had lured him out with blackmail once, he was still too ashamed to allow such a ruse to work twice. They had come from Celene. Had Gaspard done something to force the empress’s hand? Had the Divine made a new demand? What had changed Celene’s mind? Then, as she came past the torches, Briala saw the night sky, glowing a sooty red. She smelled the smoke of Halamshiral’s slums burning. After that, Briala stopped thinking.

#i think this is going to be the most controversial one yet #my da meta #dragon age: the masked empire #divine justinia v #da the masked empire #celene valmont #leliana #justinia critical #celene critical #anti chantry #edit: added an extra sentence for clarity #the entire justinia/celene thing is quid pro quo. and it relies on them keeping in power #edited x2: for some spelling errors and a missing hyperlink #on divine justinia meta series

[odinsblog]

BREAKING: Federalist Society leader Leonard Leo paid Ginni Thomas OFF THE BOOKS—$80,000, with at least one $25,000 payment being routed through Kellyanne Conway.

Leo specifically said that the payments should not mention Ginni Thomas.

Conservative judicial activist Leonard Leo arranged for the wife of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas to be paid tens of thousands of dollars for consulting work just over a decade ago, specifying that her name be left off billing paperwork, according to documents reviewed by The Washington Post.

In January 2012, Leo instructed the GOP pollster Kellyanne Conway to bill a nonprofit group he advises and use that money to pay Virginia “Ginni” Thomas, the documents show. The same year, the nonprofit, the Judicial Education Project, filed a brief to the Supreme Court in a landmark voting rights case.

Leo, a key figure in a network of nonprofits that has worked to support the nominations of conservative judges, told Conway that he wanted her to “give” Ginni Thomas “another $25K,” the documents show. He emphasized that the paperwork should have “No mention of Ginni, of course.”

Conway’s firm, the Polling Company, sent the Judicial Education Project a $25,000 bill that day. Per Leo’s instructions, it listed the purpose as “Supplement for Constitution Polling and Opinion Consulting,” the documents show.

In all, according to the documents, the Polling Company paid Thomas’s firm, Liberty Consulting, $80,000 between June 2011 and June 2012, and it expected to pay $20,000 more before the end of 2012. The documents reviewed by The Post do not indicate the precise nature of any work Thomas did for the Judicial Education Project or the Polling Company.

The arrangement reveals that Leo, a longtime Federalist Society leader and friend of the Thomases, has functioned not only as an ideological ally of Clarence Thomas’s but also has worked to provide financial remuneration to his family. And it shows Leo arranging for the money to be drawn from a nonprofit that soon would have an interest before the court.

In December 2012, the Judicial Education Project submitted an amicus brief in Shelby County v. Holder, a case challenging a landmark civil rights law aimed at protecting minority voters.

(continue reading)

#politics #republicans #scotus #clarence thomas #ginni thomas #leonard leo #kellyanne conway #federalist society #democracy for sale #oligarchy #judicial education project #citizens united #shelby county v eric holder #voting rights #voter suppression #quid pro quo #shelby v holder

[tempportal]

@dvarapala​​ said: "Don't worry, I got this!"

“No, you don’t ‘got this’,” Five snaps, his hand still latched firmly around her wrist to hold her back before she charges off into the half-collapsed supermarket without him — which would be an absolutely terrible idea, whatever she tries to say to the contrary. “Look, I can already tell I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay away from that thing—” you can lead the idiot to common sense, he thinks, rather uncharitably, but you can’t force the idiot to absorb the aforementioned common sense, “—but if you insist on going inside, then I’m coming with you. That roof is going to cave in any minute now, and I’ll be able to jump us back out before it does.”

 He realizes he’s still clutching her hand like his life depends on it, and immediately lets go, tugging the edges of his oversized brown jacket a little tighter around his body, bone-thin now from two straight years on the edge of starvation, and stuffing his hands in the fleece-lined pockets on the front of it so he has an excuse to not look at her. “So, yeah, I’m coming with you. Deal with it, Rao.”

#apocalypse verse where more people than just five survived & udyati is in the Survivor Camp with him?? #but if that wasn't what you wanted when you sent this in just let me know and i'll give you something else #dvarapala #v: the sun will be guiding you #HERE'S YOUR QUID PRO QUO ; ( answered )

[writeformesinpie]

A-Z Yandere Prompts w/ Dialogue Starters

A is for... Appetite

“I want to know how you’ll taste between my teeth.”

“I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“You look delicious. I won't stop until I’ve eaten every bite.”

B is for... Brand

“I’m going to engrave myself into your very being.”

“We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again.”

“With this tattoo I’ve claimed you.”

C is for... Consequences

“Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to burn.” 

“Don’t complain now – you did this to yourself.” 

“You reap what you sow.”

D is for... Delusion

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.” 

“Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”  

“Why are you running? I did this for you!”

E is for... Eradicate

“You don’t need a job, baby. Your job is being mine.” 

“You’re better off without them anyway.” 

“I removed the problem. You should be thanking me.”

F is for... Forbidden

“You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.” 

“They will never let us be together unless we make them.” 

“It’s only taboo to those who’ve never loved like us.”

G is for... Game

“Here kitty, kitty.”

“I don’t know how to lose.” 

“One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.”

H is for... Harmless

“I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” 

“Why are you scared?” 

“You’re the only reason worth living for.”

I is for... Isolation

“Why would you want to leave? I’m keeping you here for your own good!”

“There’s nothing left for you but me. Everyone else is gone.” 

“No one will ever find you here.”

J is for... Jealousy

“If his filthy hands touch you again I’ll kill him.” 

“Shouldn’t you be spending more time with me?” 

“I can’t control how I react when your eyes wander.”

K is for... Kidnap

“You say kidnap, I say date. Who’s really to know?” 

“It’s not kidnapping when your soul yearns to be here.” 

“There’s no use trying to run. This is your home now.”

L is for... Lies

“The truth would have just hurt you.” 

“I’m not lying – I bent the truth a little to protect you.” 

“Don’t you believe me?”

M is for... Manipulation

“I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me?” 

“If you leave me now I’ll die. I can’t survive without you.” 

“I told you they couldn’t be trusted.”

N is for... Neglect

“Stop ignoring me!” 

“Look at you, you’re skin and bones.” 

“If you won’t take care of yourself I will be forced to do it for you.”

O is for... Obsession

“It’s our anniversary! How could you forget? There isn’t a single thing I don’t remember about you.” 

“So it's a little crush when you fawn over him but it's an obsession when I pay attention to you?” 

“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. You’re all I can think about.”

P is for... Persistence

“To my dying breath, I’ll never let you go.” 

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.” 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Q is for Quid Pro Quo

“If you do this for me I’ll think about helping you.” 

“Well, I guess it pays to have friends in high places.” 

“You owe me.”

R is for... Restraints

“I’ll let you go when you understand this is where you belong.” 

“Your poor wrists… Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.” 

“The cuffs will come off when you start acting like someone who doesn’t need them.”

S is for... Spoil

“I’d do anything for you, babe. Anything.” 

“Is this okay? Did I do well?”

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

T is for... Training

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s up to you.” 

“Haven’t we already moved past this? Do I have to train you again?”

“Patience is a virtue. We’ll keep going until you learn.”

U is for... Unending

“No matter how long you make me wait, our love will never die.” 

“The only way out of this house is death.” 

“There is no end. We are eternal.”

V is for... Voyeur

“Don’t act as if you don’t know me. I've been watching you watch me.” 

“I like you best when you’re sleeping.”  

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen?”

W is for... Worship

“You’re my whole world, my Goddess. You're more than divine, you’re celestial.” 

“Let me show you what adoration truly looks like.” 

“No matter what you do to me, I’ll worship the very ground you walk on. That's what it means to love someone.”

X is for... XOXO

“I want to hold you but I can’t. Once I do, I know I’ll never stop.” 

“I need to kiss every inch of your skin.” 

“When we part, every caress becomes more agonizing than the last.”

Y is for... Yearn

“I’m aching for your touch.” 

“You’re my oasis. Please don’t leave me thirsting.” 

“You don’t know true pain. I’ll show you what it really means to crave something.”

Z is for... Zealot

“You are my religion.” 

“Words like radical and extremist are just a pseudonym for enthusiastic.” 

“No matter the world, we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

~Feel free to reblog and use~

#yandere #yandere prompts #yandere au #dialogue prompt #yandere love #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing #creative writing #writing prompts #story prompts #prompt lists #writing ideas #story ideas #dialogue prompts #writing inspiration #horror prompt #horror writing #halloween prompts #horror #creepy prompts #writing inspo #short prompt #prompt list #a z challenge #writing challenge #one shot prompts #writeformesinpie

[int-writersmind]

The Quid Pro Quo

Paring: College! Peter Parker x Reader (reader's an English major)

Summary: On a rainy night, sparks fly when the two of you exchange notes on each others classwork.

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff

authors note: hey, I might be a recent college graduate, doesn't mean everything is accurate ok? 🤭

Light rain taps against the window of Empire State University's library windows. You find yourself alone on the second floor at a table, wanting to tear your hair out over your Physics homework.

It was Friday night, the library was practically empty since most students were out partying or at the very least not thinking about their classwork. You, on the other hand, had made a deal with a fellow student to help one another on each’s work, a classic quid pro quo. You, an English major, were gonna exchange helpful notes on your classmate's Frankenstein paper that was due Monday, and he, in return, would help you prepare for your Physics test the following Tuesday. It was a great idea, brilliant even, if only Peter Parker weren’t running late. 

You check your phone one more time before standing up and stretching your legs. You walk over to the big gothic looking window your table was next to, glancing at the rain smacking into the glass.

God, there were so many things you could have been doing right now instead of standing here like a young wife waiting for her husband to return from the sea. Like curling up with a nice book, with a hot cup of your favorite beverage, getting lost in whatever world and-

“Sorry I’m late!” came a familiar voice.

You turn and see that Peter Parker had decided to finally make an appearance after all. With your arms crossed, you watch as he quickly runs up the steps, tripping and almost falling while doing so. “I was starting to think you died or something.” You say quite sarcastically.

“Oh much worse,” Peter says, “Subway delays.” As you return to your seat, Peter sits on the other side, quickly taking out his own laptop and notebook. “What should we start on?”

“I don’t know if I can stand anymore Physics right now,” You glance at your phone,  A Daily Bugle notification on top: Spider-Man v Lizard! Havoc on the A-Line!. You swipe it away, maybe it was better to go straight to the dorms after this. “Let’s just start on this Frankenstein paper since it’s much more open-ended.”

“Boo, I hate open ended,” Peter turns on his laptop, “At least with science everything can be quantified.”

“What about theories huh?”

“Theories can be backed up or disproven! English, it’s-it’s sooo subjective.” Peter sighs, “What do you mean the blue curtains represent depression! I have blue curtains, but not because I’m depressed but because they were on sale!”

“Ha-ha, like I haven’t heard that before” You shake your head and roll your eyes, “So, let’s see what you have. Wait, maybe it’s better if I-” You get up from your seat and walk over to sit on the chair next to Peter. “That’s better, now we can look at the screen together.”

Peter places one arm on the back of your chair, no thought really behind it. You pause for a moment before fake coughing, re-focusing on the screen in front of you.

 Peter was one year older and the two of you met at an English course, Literature by Women, a gen-ed for him but a required class for you. You got to know each other the first week of the semester when your Professor assigned partner work to go through a set of poems. Ever since then the two of you would occasionally text each other with simple questions about class. That’s when you found out Peter was in a higher track for Physics and became an absolute annoyance when it came to questions. But Peter always lent a hand and never with any bitterness. 

“You ok?” Peter asks.

You look at Peter whose face reads concern, “Yeah, just a little tired that’s all. Long day.” You turn back to the screen glancing at the title and opening lines of Peter’s paper.

“Ugh same,” groans Peter, “I got so caught up with something, I forgot to eat lunch”

“Oh, I think I have something.” You stop a few lines into the first paragraph, reaching over the table to grab your bag on top, you dig inside until you find half of a sandwich that you bought earlier. “Here, I didn’t know this sandwich had tomatoes and I just find them disgusting.” You make a face of disgust that causes a small laugh to come from Peter.

“You know you can always just take the tomatoes off right?”

“What about the tomato juices?” You say, “The remnant of the tomato never goes away!” You make a huge swapping gesture, “Do you want the damn sandwich or not?”

He puts his hands up in fake surrender, “Ok, ok.”

Peter takes his arm off the back of your chair scooting closer to the table before digging into the sandwich. You settle into reading Peter’s paper about the ethics of Dr. Frankenstein. 

~

“Ok…ok, what you have so far it’s…”

“Horrible..terrible–” Peter sighs.

You turn and gently smack Peter on the arm, “Oh shut up,” You say, “It’s a good foundation, clear thesis, your paragraphs for the most part support it–”

“But…”

“But,” You widen your eyes and make a face. “You focus too much on the actual science of everything going on, focus more on the emotional. Victor uses the Creature for his own selfish desire not only for scientific exploration.”

“You got all of that from my paper?”

“More or less,” You turn your attention back to the computer screen, scrolling over the paper again. “See, anyone can write a thorough paper if they put their mind to it.”

“And…anyone can pass Physics if they put their mind to it as well. Let’s switch topics.”

“Oh, god no,” You say. “The greatest weakness of English majors…Science!”

You lean back as if you were fake fainting, a little too far back as you almost tip over in your seat, but Peter catches your arm just in time. “Woah there Faint-y, can lose you yet.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Peter closes his laptop, and grabs his notebook, you hand him your Professor given study guide. Peter glances at the document, nodding and shaking his head at certain terms. “Ok little English major, time to blow your mind with some science!”

“Certainly, but not in the way you're imagining.”

Peter just rolls his eyes and points to one of the first lines in the study guide that you're underlining and adding several question marks to. “Let’s start here.”

Your little tipping incident sent your chair slightly further away from Peter’s than earlier. With the underside of his hand, he pulls your chair, and you, closer to him. This causes you to hitch your breath. “Pete you gotta stop doing that.” You joke.

Peter doesn’t look up from the paper. “Stop doing what?”

You huff and glance away before looking back at him. “God are you purposely annoying or just clueless?”

Peter finally looks at you, a slight smile on his face, “I just need you close to me…to-to, uh, to explain this concept. Obviously.”

“Yeah,” You blow a raspberry. “Obviously.”

~

You groan, letting your head fall into your hands on top of the table, “I’m resigned to the fact that I might have to drop out of Physics.”

“No, don't! Physics is super fun!” Peter says with a little bit too much enthusiasm.

You peek one eye through your fingers, “Pete, I don’t think we’re working on the same frequency.” 

“Ok, well I have a totally funny Physics joke for you,” Peter readies himself, “What did the male magnet say to the female magnet? Seeing you from the back, I thought you were repulsive. But seeing you from the front, I find you rather attractive.”

You pick your head up and lightly punch Peter in the arm, “You’re lucky you’re cute, because I’m already–Ah, spider!”

A modest size brown spider crawls out of reach from your hand on the table. You reflexively go to swat at it but Peter catches your hand before you could do so. You glance at Peter’s hand on yours rather than at him. He quickly lets go of your hand before he goes and picks up the spider ever so gently.

You follow him as he walks over to the window, the rain slowing down. He cracks open the window, urging the bug outside. You lean against the other side of the window, arms crossed over your chest, you can’t help it when a dry laugh escapes your mouth, “Sorry, but are you secretly some kind of spider-whisper.”

“Hmm,” Peter closes the window, “Maybe. Just looking out for the little guy I suppose.”

You can’t help but smile, truly genuine this time. You reach out and take one of Peter’s hands. “Come on, I think we’ve earned a break.”

You pull Peter by the hand, taking a second to close his laptop, and throwing your jacket over everything on the table. You turn around, switching what hand is holding on to Peter’s. You continue down one path weaving up and down other bookshelves, passing empty tables, you make a sudden turn down an aisle letting go of Peter’s hand. You trail your fingers over the spines of the books, as Peter follows behind you, hands in his pocket. When you make it to the end of the aisle, you stand in front of a window, the rainstorm continuing on. “I actually find rainstorms to be rather romantic.” You say.

“The Shelly kind or the Valentine kind?” Peter says, leaning against the bookshelf.

“Both.” You peek back, a smirk playing on your lips. You walk over to Peter, standing with just enough space for someone to squeeze through.

“Not so romantic when you’re caught up in it.” Peter glances at the window, then at you. “I’ve been caught…too many times.”

“So have I,” You step a little closer, testing the waters, Peter doesn’t react. “But you have to admit there’s something, I don’t know, intimate, about being sheltered in place, with just one other person. Like under an umbrella, or the awning of some corner store bodega–”

“Or in-between bookshelves at your college’s library?” Peter’s hand comes up to gently grasp your hand, your fingers slowly interlocking with one another. He pulls you in close, in between his legs. You place your other hand on his chest to prevent yourself from falling. “I might not be an English major but I think I can read between the lines.”

“And if I wasn’t so tired, I would totally come up with a Physics joke.” You response, your face flush red. 

He brings his other hand to your face, his palm resting on your cheek, his fingers slowly disappearing into the nape of your hair. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Hmm, maybe…let me ask you one question?” You say.

“Shoot.”

“Can I kiss you first?”

Peter smiles, then nods. You bring the hand that was on his chest upwards, sliding up his neck, until your own hand is entangled in his hair. You close your eyes and lean forward, pressing your lips ever so gently to his. He pauses for a moment before kissing you back, slowly, taking his time. His lips felt soft against your own, warm and comforting, even if you could still taste the tomatoes from earlier. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What is it?” Peter says between kisses.

You move away just a little, you quickly peck him on the lips, once, twice–”It doesn’t really matter.”

Peter deepens the kiss, bringing both hands to hold your face, his thumbs gently caressing the skin beneath them. You loop both your arms around his neck, letting your body fall into his, your chest pressing against his. His tongue enters your mouth and it falls in rhythm with yours, dancing an unseen dance. 

The two of you stop for a moment, foreheads resting on one another. “You know I’m still dropping Physics right?” You say through closed eyes and heavy breathing.

“Then I’ll keep kissing you until you change your mind.” Peter answers.

He holds you in his arms as he stands up fully, keeping his grip on you tight as he kisses you again. One of his hands drifts to your bottom, an open hand just resting on top of your clothing.

“Oh Parker,” You whisper. “Not as innocent as you look.”

“You have no idea…” 

He buries his head into your neck, placing kisses up and down that make your eyes roll back. “We should…we should definitely continue this study session back at my dorm…since you know… the library closes soon.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Peter says as he now moves on to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. 

You break away from him, pushing him back ever so lightly, taking his hand in yours. You lead him down the aisle, half-walking, half running. 

“Come on, I still have a Physics test to pass”

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

Hey there, thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. If you like this consider checking out my other fluff-y story Potential Customer . Goodbye Void!

masterlist

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[hereathemoment]

“I can break the mating bond”

            The bottom trim of Nesta’s cape slips against the stone floor, gliding into a halo around her feet as she stops in front of towering stone bars lining the length of a cell. The man within sits against the wall in the far corner, with his hands clasped and dangling between the bent V of his legs and hidden in the shadow of the window’s small glow. Nobody bothered to give her any information beyond the rudimentary understanding necessary for today’s mission. The threat in the East is embodied by one man with untold power and before her sits one of his few confidants. Rhysand didn’t command her here because of the power she stole from the Cauldron, no—her power is apparently too unruly and disobedient for her to risk using it without his direct supervision. Instead, she was reduced to that of an errand boy, sent to the Prison as a messenger. Nesta is to inform the prisoner of his impending death should he continue with his silence. She remembered the Inner Circle discussing it—who was to go to the Prison, discussing her—a perfect mix of threatening and expendable, and she agreed to go, resigned to the mirage of choice they’re known for. It doesn’t escape her that the cell this fae sits in now was very nearly hers, had her sister not rejected Amren’s suggestion and picked the House for her instead. Nesta didn’t know then that Cassian was written in the fine print, a required quid-pro-quo for a warm bed, and she wonders if she would’ve preferred the comfort of a cell had it been offered to her.  

            “Your execution will be held in the morning. You have until then to tell the Night Court what you know and decide where your loyalties lie” The hollowness of her voice fades into the empty corridor of the Prison. “If you refuse…may your next life grant you more fruitful loyalties.” She twists at her parting words, making the announcement brief and perfunctory but offering him the hidden well-wishes of her own heart. She is within a foot of the doorway before the low timbre of his voice reaches her, echoing in the space between them. His tone is not frantic or angry as she may have otherwise expected, but promising, “They call him a bride-stealer sweetheart. I was sent here for you, Nesta.” The dull click of her heels reverberated against the stones as she turned to face him. She doesn’t question how he knows her, doesn’t bother wondering how he knew she’d come. “And how,” she begins, “Do you think to take me?” Nesta only finishes once she’s facing him once more, “You’re the one captured in a prison cell, and I am the one about to walk free.”

            His sardonic smile contradicts her, but he merely says, “Come with me. I think you’d like Koschei,” he adds with a gentle laugh, “I know he’d like you.” Koschei… the fae male doesn’t seem bothered at all that he’d just betrayed his master’s name. Odd, considering neither Azriel nor Rhysand were able to carve it out of him just hours ago. When Nesta seemed unimpressed and seemed unbothered to deign an answer, the man continued, “I have a unique ability to see within someone’s heart and see their most innermost, dearest desire. Koschei appreciates my particular skill of… making dreams comes true. It’s proven to entice quite the loyal following.”

            “Ah, another Court of Dreams then,” Nesta scoffs, without acknowledging his slip. “Spare me,” she says harshly, but her mind follows quietly with, what I want cannot be given. He offered that she go with him, but he's not going anywhere considering his circumstances. Nesta was ordered to deliver a simple message and she had. Her job here is done. She makes her leave with a subtle eyeroll and quick clench of her fists. But she had only made it a few paces away before the prisoner’s next words immobilize her entirely, the heel of her right foot frozen about the ground mid-step. One, two, three stalled seconds continue for small eternities as hope and freedom and happiness is dangled in front of her so cavalierly by this smirking fae lounging on the dirty floor of a dingy prison.

“I can break your mating bond.”

The silver in her eyes is told by the excitement on his face and she throws herself against his cage, her hands digging into the stoner pillars separating the two of them. Nesta’s power slithers through her veins, twinning around her anger and burning her alive. “Promising someone what they want most is a dangerous game to play when you can’t deliver.” Her words come out as a growl, more monstrous than they’ve ever been, more fae than she’d care to acknowledge. But what he had said… what he had offered her… it was alluring and seductive and wholly impossible. She’s new to this world, but she’d never be so naïve as to believe him. But, if it were true…

            He carried on calmly, though the small curve of his mouth betrayed his delight at seeing her seethe. “Come with me, Nesta. Join us.” Through the buzzing in her head, she dimly marks the irony of an imprisoned man continually offering her freedom. His gaze is steady, his posture relaxed, his mind sure of her choice. “My execution will be held in the morning. You have until then to decide where your loyalties lie.”

Why that little—

He sighs, perfectly content with his situation, certain her loyalties lie with herself. Nesta wonders what he knows about her circumstances—about her family’s betrayal and her gilded servitude. Or maybe he’s heard about the stories Feyre had spread about their childhood, and just assumed the eldest Archeron sister would be selfish enough to break the sanctity of a mating bond on whim. His low chuckle escorts her out as she leaves without another word. The draw of his offer is too great to be dismissed, but her caution prevents her from accepting outright. So Nesta just leaves. Confused. Angry. Tempted. By tomorrow morning indeed.

#nesta archeron #anti cassian

[mercyfuls]

⊠    ɪᴅ  .  .  .  ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ    ›› JIA “ JULIA ” YUN ;

• thirty4 + agender + any pronouns . • intelligence agent ; on the payroll for twelve years . • agent arachne : string manipulation .

backroom deals and back alley fistfights ; tripwires as fine as spider silk ; always wanting something more ; a future just out of reach .

PERSONAL DETAILS ;

a. full name : jia yun b. preferred name : julia c. aliases : assorted. most used include erin choi & june kim

d. age : thirty-four ( 34 ) e. date of birth : 26 august 2014 f. place of birth : seoul, south korea

g. gender : none h. pronouns : they / he / she i. orientation : demisexual

j. hometown : seoul, south korea k. current residence : apex city, united states

l. first language : korean m. subsequent languages : english, french, mandarin

n. highest education : bachelor of information technology

EMPLOYMENT DETAILS ;

o. years employed : twelve ( 12 ) p. faction : intelligence q. previous faction : junior r. codename : arachne

s. mutation : string manipulation t. strengths : resourceful, creative u. weaknesses : stubborn, inefficient

FAMILIAL DETAILS ;

v. father : juhwan yun ( sixty-four, hr professional ) w. mother : seonmi ju ( sixty-five, emergency nurse ) x. siblings : none.

HISTORY ;

born in seoul, south korea to an ordinary couple, jia yun was never an easy child. disgruntled by the mundanity of their upbringing, they sought to inflict excitement on the neighbourhood — no matter the means or cost. as a small child, this mostly involved making " potions " of mud, grass and flowers, peddling them to every unfortunate passerby, and inventing fantastical worlds of magic, death and science fiction to coerce the other children into playing with them, but as they grew older other things began to draw their attention.

first it was getting suspended from school for setting off fireworks in the playground — raising serious questions of where a five-year-old even got fireworks from. then it was emulating a tv show hacker and displaying threatening messages on public computers — a visit from the police was arranged, though it did very little to actually get through to jia.

they were sixteen when they started getting involved in actual crime. petty theft from convenience stores turned into bigger theft — electronics, valuables, etc — and by the time they were nineteen, jia was somewhat notorious amongst petty criminals — and the police.

their first foray into law enforcement came in university, when the police recruited them in a quid-pro-quo sort of deal ( help us out and we'll wipe a couple things off your record ) to track down a big time criminal through the internet. this was the moment julia discovered there could be excitement on both sides of the law.

discovering this did not stop jia's dabbling in the criminal sphere, of course, but it did offer them another outlet to evade boredom without the implications on their future. this continued for a few years, until just after graduation jia was approached by a mercy agent scouting for the organisation. naturally, julia said yes, the opportunity being a perfect outlet for them and far more interesting than a career in i.t.

two years of training as a junior agent later, julia graduated to being an intelligence agent and immediately opted in to becoming a radiant. string manipulation hasn't proven to be terribly useful thus far — though it allows them to create excellent tripwires and garottes, and useful for intimidation tactics in interrogations, it's not terribly useful in the computer area, which is where julia prefers to be.

APPLICATION ;

⊠    ɪᴅ  .  .  .  ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ    ››    [    kim  hieora    /      thirty4    /    agender    /    they/he/she    ]   mercy  headquarters  is  pleased  to  officially  introduce  JIA  “JULIA”  YUN.  they  have  been  apart  of  the  organization  for  twelve  years,  serving  as  AN  INTELLIGENCE  agent  and  has  been  assigned  the  codename  AGENT  ARACHNE.  it's  worth  noting  that  their  file  indicates  they  have  undergone  the  solaris  treatment  and  host  STRING MANPULATION.  according  to  our  dossier,  the  agent  exhibits  a  combination  of  CREATIVITY  and  OBSTINANCE,  fitting  for  someone  reminiscent  of  backroom  deals  and  back  alley  fistfights  ;  tripwires  as  fine  as  spider  silk  ;  always  wanting  something  more  ;  a  future  just  out  of  reach.  prior  to  embarking  on  any  mission,  the  find  solace  in  listening  to  the  song  “stippling“  by  DOUBLE  FACE.  (  thyme.  twenty1.  they/them.  aedt.  none  )

#mercyorg:intro

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

I hate L v R

Let me Explain since this is going to need context. According to several political spectrum tests, I land about here:

But morons, especially people with TDS think anyone to right of Stalin is Right Wing.

I criticize Democrats because they claim to represent the Left. They don't. I criticize people to the left of me because let's be fair here, most of them tend to be more extreme and I find value in the middle.

So imagine my shock dealing with wanna be fake right wingers, whom ALSO seem to have TDS meanwhile taking information put out by organizations that have been lying for decades, and swallowing it whole. Then I go on to talk about Dems that have broken law objectively, and rather than be like, "Yeah all that happened and it should still be dealt with", you come at me with basically, "None of that matters because F*ck Trump".

Dude. I don't even CARE for Trump all that much. But when faced with blatant lies and bullsh*t I'm going to call that out. Same as I would people on the Right for similar slander against Biden. Mind you I HATE Biden. However, my stance is, do not make up stuff about a person to make them look worse. If they are already bad, just point out the bad. If you want to speculate then by all means. Speculate. But make sure that it is transparent when you are doing so.

Recently I got into a back and forth with a fake right winger, which is the funniest shit to me because even if he claims that's no his schtick that's how he tries to align himself. Me? Not so much. I'm not pro life so much as people would like me to be, I'm not anti sex work, I'm actually FOR social programs with FAR MORE STRICT guidelines and fundamentally I lack a lot the same views as a right winger or conservative. I have no hate for conservatives. However that same sentiment does not extend over to fundamentalists. Because those people tend to be radicals. (Not all. But most).

But the simple question I proposed is this. When looking at Trump v Biden. Who openly broke laws. I got accused of putting it mildly in regards to Trump, but I followed up with several sources with the stuff I posted. To which I was greeted with more or less, with nothing but more vitriol than anything else. I even had an entire section of my argument about laws that Dems and their contributors also broke OPENLY but they didn't address that point at all. Why? Well either

They are a grifter and fake right winger

or

They are just heavily suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome

Either way it does not matter. I asked a simple question. What LAWS did Trump break. The response was "He lied, and is a liar".

Ok so how is that breaking the law? His speech, like everyone else's is protected by the first amendment. "Well he lied about the election".

Ok. So speech.

"Well he tried to overturn the election"

Ok how? Using the current legal system to which there are rules and laws? Did he weaponize the national guard to overtake the gov? No? Ok did he arm himself and take hostages? No? Did he use an executive order to mandate himself Emperor? No? Ok then what law did he break in "trying to over turn the election" as you put it? Needless to say there was no answer.

Then there was the other, "Laws Trump Broke".

Ok so here is the list.

Quid Pro Quo with Ukraine. Well according to one of the lead speakers in the case, which was a Trump aid at the time, during testimony he stated, "Mr. Trump said specifically that he didn't want anything in return, no quid pro quo, just ask about the thing regarding Joe". Now you might think. "AH HA, Trump targeting his political rivals!" Except Joe had not announced that he was running at all. Nor did he ever even hint at it. No what really happened is that Trump was shown this video:

Now you don't have to care about the source on this. Reason being this is in full context. Biden breaking the law as VP. Because here's the thing. If they are arguing that Trump as president didn't have the right to withhold aid, (which he didn't even do according to the said and phone logs) then Biden didn't have any legal right to do what he did. Never you mind the fact we recently had a dozen or so reports showing likely bribery to Biden by Burisma *which Hunter Biden was on the board of* so they would oust the investigator looking into the company.

So, this accusation against Trump holds no water at all legally unless Biden is implicated as well. And his actions were worse. Both from the point of the Bribery, and the fact he took the actions he did as VP.

The second "crime" we here about is "he incited an insurrection". But in truth, all he did was hold a rally. FBI have been confirmed on the ground at the Capitol, and footage shows that the rioters were small in number, and that mostly it simmered down after Capitol offices took down the barricades, and opened the doors and led people around.

Now, you can say, "oh well Trump's rhetoric". Ok so he shits on everyone. He's mouthy. And he exaggerates. And his "rhetoric" as it were is literally no worse than that as used by most of the Democrats. Hell, several very public officials called people to action to harass right wingers. What was it? "Seek them out, confront them, never let them rest. Never let them escape" yeah. Trump never said anything close to that. Meanwhile:

And she was far from the only person that said things like this. And this to me, no matter what side had said this? I'd equate that to calling for violence. Open calls for harassment. From a public official and again, not the only one. So unless you can show me where Trump directly called for this level of action you have no argument. Because it's at this level where the legality of it gets to a point where what Waters did looks VERY illegal. "Well Trump said fight" ok. I'm what context? Probably the same context that Biden, Hillary, Bernie, Obama etc have no doubt. Or the most famous:

---

Ok guys. This is The Beastie Boys calling for violence. *Eye roll*.

So the next "Crime" Trump committed is "Colluding with Russia". Except the only notion they had to even to potentially even look at this as an angle is a SINGLE phone call, that we now know was made by a Hillary staffer from within Trump Tower, on a Russian bought phone.

---

Ok. So this was false to. Wow. Starting to see a trend here.

Now the most recent "crimes" brought by NY against Trump, are for "over valuing his properties". But here is the kicker. People don't tell banks what they THINK their property is worth. Certainly they can argue it up, but a person approved by the bank comes out to appraise what is being looked at when you take out a loan.

Now. You might be thinking "WOW YOU MUST REALLY LIKE TRUMP!"

Nope. My issue is when you lie about a person in general. Trump is a social Democrat but unlike modern "liberals" whom personally I don't even consider liberals, he's a moderate. If someone does something wrong, yeah, you can call it out. But a lot of the information about him is bunk or grossly exaggerated. His first amendment is protected. Just like everyone else.

You don't have to like him. Hell you can hate him. But if he's really so bad? Why lie.

And this is another reason I hate the whole Left v Right bullshit. How many people out there are STRICTLY L or R? Almost no one. Save the exception being extremists.

I'm not right wing. Mind you call me that if you like, but it's not true. But unlike some people "Sh0eonhead" I'm not afraid to be called that. I just feel the need to make a correction. But in modern day what really IS Left or Right other than borderline useless labels that are meant to signal to people who MIGHT agree with you. Often when I post I ALWAYS try to make a distinction between Leftists and people ON the left. Hell I've made posts about the difference.

But really it's stupid having to argue with a person that appears at least on the surface to lean right, but has more Trump derangement than Bill Maher. Like holy shit. What's more, they can't point out to me SPECIFICALLY where he broke actual law. Only things they think he's guilty of. And when confronted with actual laws broken by Dems...... Utter silence. Honestly? It's pretty telling. And then making as assessment that I must be "a right winger" is the cherry on top. What? Because I pointed out your bullshit? Spare me.

If you like the Democrats so much just say you do. Or hell maybe your just a deranged NeoCon, who knowns now a days.

But again this whole modern Left vs Right thing is so convoluted and stupid. It's been that way for a number of years now but honestly it's just sad at this point. What more me on the left, defending the right from bad faith assholes on the left and from communist scumbags. Because in modern day most conservatives and people on the right do work in good faith. Not so much on the other side of the isle. Which frankly to me is depressing because I'm not aligned with the people I defend on a lot of topics. But when dealing with liars, you have to step in.

So. To the person part of this post is (partly) about. Send me an ask or a message. We can talk on discord or wherever else. Not over text. If you want to prove a point, then prove it. Hell I don't care if you get a burner account for the occasion. Unlike you, probably, I'm not the type do dox another person. And hell if your so inclined you can record too and "make a fool out of me" and post it here on Tumblr. I don't care. I've made my point. You just don't seem to care about the points made. You only seem to care about your feelings. So. Let's be adults about this. Get in touch. Nuance and reading in-between the lines gets lost over text. I'd like to chat.

#Youtube

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for stealing Excalibur to save my faerie gf?

Exactly what it says on the tin. I (27F) am a descendent of Merlin, and serve as the court mage for the current king of Camelot. The fair folk live in the forests, and over the past century have made travel more and more difficult, as they lure any travelers off the path for various reasons, most are never seen again. The king sent me as an ambassador, as I know the most about resisting enchantment and protecting myself with magic, to hopefully broker peaceful relations. I encountered a beautiful fae, V, (???F) who naturally tried to charm me to draw me off the path. I was able to make a deal with her to bring a message to the Faerie Queen of my desire to meet with her, provided I came back in three days.

I returned, and we talked and she showed me beautiful things, and yeah I was attracted to her but I had a duty to my kingdom first. We answered questions for each other about ourselves and our worlds quid pro quo. I learned I could have an audience with the Queen on midsummers night.

The third time I returned, V enchanted me, and was about to kill me with me being none the wiser as I was under her spell. But she let me go. She explained that if she didn't kill me, the Queen would kill her, but that she had fallen in love with me… and I had fallen for her. I tried to take her out of Faerie with me, but she couldn't be unbound from her service to the Queen. So I met with the Queen to bargain for her freedom. I know I could have negotiated for peace between our kingdoms but she had specifically told V to kill me so that the humans wouldn't try such a "foolish notion" again, so there was no inroad there.

I was as clever as I could be, but the Queen demanded Excalibur within 3 days in exchange for mine and V's freedom and safety. And if I didn't make a deal by sunrise, I might be trapped there. So I went back to Camelot and I tried to break the news to the king… but it was clear he wouldn't sacrifice the relic. So I stole it.

This is our only fae ally! This has to be worth something! And I owe her, she saved my life at the possible expense of her own… or a fate worse than death, it would seem, as punishment for her treason.

The king will notice Excalibur is gone and what was left behind was a fake before long. I'm on my way to the forest now. I'll do my best to find a way around this, and retain the sword. But if I don't, I've betrayed my kingdom, my people. V and I will both be traitors to our people. I'm already carrying the deep guilt of it… but this is for love, and for honor that transcends country. I don't think I'm TA, but… am I?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[daisies-daydreams]

Could I possibly ask for a nsfw interrogation from Ghost that turns into something wayyy more than him getting information from you??

Quid Pro Quo (Ghost x F!Reader)

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Table Sex, Semi-Doggy Style, Missionary, P in V Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Bondage, Spanking, Choking, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Swearing Word Count: 3k+

A/N: Hello hello and thank you for your request! I'm sorry if it's not very good, I wasn't exactly sure which direction to take with it. I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Your head was throbbing as you blinked slowly. You could barely make out the room you were in, a bright, blinding lightbulb dangling above your head. Your eyes lingered on the completely spotless table set in front of you. You gritted your teeth as you tried to move your hands, only to struggle against a pair of handcuffs. You groaned and threw your head back in frustration. Your head snapped up at the sound of footsteps behind you. You sat up as straight as you could. Your lips curved into a deep scowl as you bared your teeth when you saw a pair of skeletal-patterned gloves grip your shoulder.

“You feel tense, love,” the man behind you mused.

You bared your teeth as you turned your head. Your breath hitched when you found yourself face-to-face with a skull-masked behemoth. He tilted his head and narrowed his dark, piercing eyes. You couldn’t help but notice how his veins bulged out of his thick muscles as his fingers thrummed against your shoulder.

“I think we both know why you’re here,” he murmured. His hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed it gently.

“Do I at least get to know the name of the man who's about to kill me?” you huffed. The Brit behind you paused for a moment.

“Ghost,” he muttered. You snickered which earned you another squeeze around your throat. “And I won’t have to kill you if you give me the information I’m looking for,” Ghost stated. You scowled as he loosened his grip on your neck. The mysterious man sighed as he rubbed his gloved fingers against your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

“I’ll just cut to the chase: where is El Sin Nombre hiding?” Ghost asked, his gravelly voice echoing inside your ears. Your lips parted ever so slightly, a sudden spark flickering deep inside you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hissed. You winced as Ghost suddenly tugged your hair, your scalp burning as his other hand wrapped around your neck.

“Don’t you dare play coy with me,” the large man growled. Your lips curled into a deep frown as the man released your hair.

“I’ll ask you again and make sure to talk extra slow this time: where is El Sin Nombre’s current location?” he husked. You hissed and balled your fists as your head throbbed, your throat burning like a scorching wildfire. You heard his lips smack as he leaned closer, his hot breath breaking through his mask and fanning across your neck.

“Maybe you’ll be more apt to respond to another question: Where the fuck is Valeria Garza?” the man barked. Your eyes widened as your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. You kept your lips sealed as your eyes rolled back, black dots sprinkling your vision. You gasped for air when Ghost finally released your throat. You coughed and sputtered, your hands flinching inside the cuffs to instinctively rub at your sore neck.

“Well?” Ghost's voice was almost a purr as his other hand squeezed your forearm. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“I don’t know,” you strained. A deep rumble emitted from his throat as he now wrapped both hands around your throat. You gasped. “I’m being honest! I don’t know where she is!” you raised your voice as you shifted your thighs together. The man paused behind you, his hands freezing over your windpipe.

“So you do know who she is?” Ghost drawled. You froze, ice running through your veins as your stomach twisted into a sickening knot. Your heart was pounding as your mind raced through thousands of thoughts in a matter of seconds. You took a deep breath, trying to not focus on the pain that emanated from your neck.

“Quid pro quo,” you rasp. You heard him shift behind you.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Ghost huffed as he crossed his arms. You whipped your head around.

“Oh, but it can be,” you replied with a husky whisper. His eyes remained unchanged as he watched you, his body still as a statue. “I won’t say anything unless you give me something in return,” you say while gently shifting your thighs together. Ghost looked you up and down, his eyes calculating and stance unmoving. His shoulders eventually lowered before he gave a silent nod. You grinned.

“I'll give you the location of El Sin Nombre...if you can outlast me in sex,” you purr as you arched your back as much as you could. His jaw clicked while he lowered his arms to his side.

"Doesn't sound much like a quid pro quo," Ghost spat. You flinched when he brought his face closer to yours. "Just sounds like you're a desperate whore wanting to get dicked down," he rasped. You licked your lips.

“Oh, I'm just looking out for you. I bet you’re all pent up from this investigation work, right?" you hummed. Ghost shuffled back a little. "All those long, hard hours of labor. Wouldn’t it be nice to just blow off a little steam?” you asked as you slowly licked your plump lips. Ghost’s fists shook at his sides as he turned his back to you. Your smile fell as you sighed.

“Fine, then I guess you won’t get the location then,” you hung your head. A few moments pass as the man behind you paced back and forth. Your eyes flickered when you heard the sound of keys jangling.

Got him.

You felt a small pang of relief when you felt your handcuffs being unlocked. The feeling was short-lived, however, as you feel his large hands shove you against the table. You try to hide your flushed face as Ghost restrains you once more, keeping his hand on your wrists as an extra precaution. You tremble as his hips become flush to yours.

"If you try anything, I won't hesitate to leave you in here for another day. Are we clear?" he husked, the plastered portion of his mask raking against the shell of your ear. You nod.

"Yes," you pant, your shirt riding up your back. Ghost remained silent as he kneaded the flesh of your hips and began to grind his clothed erection against your pussy. You visibly shivered and tried to keep yourself grounded by leaning on your forearms. He grunted as he gently kicked your legs apart and rocked his hips a little faster. You squeaked and pushed your ass back, matching his slow, shallow thrusts with your own. You felt his hot, covered breath puff onto your neck as the fabric of his mask brushed against your skin. He groaned as his hands tightened on your waist.

The man rumbled as he slowly unzipped your pants. You felt heat rise to your face as your panties and pants fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud. Ghost growled as he pushed your face onto the cold surface of the table. You yelped when he slapped your ass and tugged on your hair.

You cried, fingernails gripping into the metal surface of the table. The man grunted and kept thrusting his hips against yours, his hard length brushing against your exposed pussy. You shuddered at the feeling of his fabric gloves kneading the flesh of your ass before he spread your cheeks apart.

“Look at you, all wet for a man you don’t even know,” he chuckled, his deep voice sending ripples of arousal down your spine. “You’re such a needy little whore, aren’t you?” Ghost growled. You lunged forward when you felt a sharp smack laid against your rear again. “Answer me when I speak to you, slut,” he snarled, rubbing the fresh mark on your ass.

“Yes,” you moaned as more slick dribbled from your hole. Another smack crossed your rear.

“'Yes' what?” Ghost demanded, his fingers tracing down to tease your wet folds. You felt heat rush to your face. In any normal circumstance, you would’ve spat in the man’s face and told him to fuck off. But the way his hands were working you made you slip further into a primal hunger.

“Yes, sir,” you answered. He grunted in approval before he slowly pushed one of his thick digits inside your tight entrance.

“Better,” the man stated bluntly, his face close to yours as he started to thrust his finger through your slick walls. Small moans fell from your lips as he fingered your eager pussy, his other hand coming down to tease your clit.

“Look at you squirmin’ around just from my finger,” he breathed against your neck while he curled the rough pad of his digit against your g-spot. You whined and arched your back as he pushed another finger inside, thrusting into you at a faster pace. Your handcuffs clinked against the table, breasts pushing into the surface as he rubbed your clit in tighter circles. Your cunt already felt stretched wide open just from his two thick digits.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath as the plaster of his mask scrapped against your cheek.

“You about to cum, love?” Ghost asked. You nodded, only to instantly regret your reply when he quickly pulled his fingers out, a string of your arousal sticking to his pads. You felt something wet tap your cheek, a silent command to open. You parted your lips, allowing him to hook his fingers inside your mouth. You lapped at his fingers, causing him to groan.

“Good girl,” he purred as he rubbed your hip. You heard him unzip his pants. His hard cock slaps and bounces against your ass before he takes it into his free hand. You shivered and whimpered around his fingers as he pressed the juicy tip against your wet hole. You felt some drool drip from the open corner of your mouth as you arched your back. He sighed and squeezed your waist. A silent scream left your mouth as he slipped the fat head of his cock inside your entrance.

“Ah!” you moaned as he inched his way inside your sopping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed between gritted teeth. You mewled as his hips became flush with your ass, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. You had no time to adjust or catch your breath before he started to pump his cock in and out of your hole.

“Such a greedy pussy, hugging my cock like this,” he moaned before lightly slapping your ass. Your eyes rolled back as he stretched out your gummy walls. Each delicious drag of his heavy cock drew a wet squelch from your aching heat. The room was filled with the sounds of wet plapping and heavy panting as Ghost slammed his cock in deeper and deeper.

“G-Ghosht,” you slurred around his fingers.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mocked. You hated how much composure he seemed to have while you were coming undone around his thick shaft.

“F-Faster please,” you whined and arched your back. The man behind you grunted before slipping his fingers out of your wet mouth. You gasped when he wrapped his hands around your thighs and flipped your over, his cock still sheathed inside your cunt. He leaned over, his form massive and overshadowing you as he shoved his whole length back into your sensitive walls.

“No,” he chuckled darkly as he pumped into you with a slow, agonizing pace. You whined and clenched your jaw as he grabbed your hips and thrusted into you at his leisure. He grunted as your walls clenched around him. You bit the inside of your cheek.

His cockhead suddenly kissed against your cervix as he rocked his hips. You couldn’t stop the moan falling from your lips as he roughly clenched his hands onto your flesh. His pupils were blown wide as he stared at how your breasts bounced with each movement. Your legs tightened around his waist as he pounded his cock into you, his balls slapping against your puffy folds.

"F-Fucking hell,” he grunted as his cock twitched inside you. Your mouth opened into a wide ‘O’ as you felt your high approaching, your body tensing in his rough grasp. You heard Ghost groan as he raised your hips and started to pound into your pussy. You cried loudly as he finally lost control, fucking you without any inhibitions.

Your throat grew tight as heat poured into every cell of your body. Ghost emitted a deep growl before he suddenly pulled out. You shuddered as he painted your stomach and breasts with lines of thick, hot cum. You whimpered as he denied you of your own release yet again. He opened his eyes and patted your thighs as he kept his hips against your ass.

“Tell me,” he panted. Your head fell onto the table, your expression one of disapproval.

“No...I-I can keep going,” you croaked. You squeaked as he picked you up and roughly pushed you onto your knees. His dark eyes pierced into yours as he sat down in the chair and spread his legs. Your eyes widened at the sight of his massive, drenched cock.

“If you're not going to tell me, then clean up your mess,” Ghost ordered as his hand came around your head and wrapped around your hair. You raised your brows as you eyed his dick again. The thick tip of his cock hiding beneath his foreskin, every inch of his length covered in your juices.

You gazed into his hickory brown eyes as your lips parted. Ghost gripped your hair even tighter, forcing your entire face to tilt up and look him dead in the eyes.

“Do it and maybe I'll let you ride my cock again...if you have enough energy that is,” he mused, his cockiness dripping from his lips. You swallowed thickly as he pressed your face closer to his soaked shaft. The smell of pungent sex wafts into your nose as you inch forward. He watches you, his fingers scrunching in your hair as you give a few kitten licks to his head. He groaned and arched forward, his cock sinking a bit further into your mouth. Your teeth just barely scraped his shaft as you sucked his length, tasting your own sweet, heady slick.

“Mmm that’s it. Keep goin',” he rumbled as his hand guided your head down his length. You gagged slightly when the head of his cock lodged against the back of your throat. You breathed through your nostrils as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. Shivers ran down your spine as the heady mixture of your cum trickled down your throat.

You wished you could play with your slick folds and tight cunt, yet all you could do was despair as you strained against the cold cuffs. You felt his cock harden again as you hollow your cheeks, dipping your face all the way to his dark pubic hair.

“S-Shit,” Ghost rasped as his head rolled back, his hips buck forward on their own. His breathing grew ragged as his cock hit the back of your tight throat. Just when you heard him groan softly, he pulled your mouth from his cock. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he heaved above you.

“Tell me,” he demanded again, his voice wavering with the arousal. You panted as you caught your breath, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You shudder when he brushes his thumb against the corner of your lip, his eyes reflecting a deep tenderness.

“F-Fuck you,” you say, barely above a whisper. Just when you think the hulking man is about to stand up and walk out of the room, he picks you up and sets you down on his lap. Ghost chuckled when he saw how wide your eyes were.

“Guess it's time to see what you're really made of,” he clicked his tongue as he brushed his dripping cockhead against your pussy. You moaned and rested your forehead on his broad shoulder as his hands pushed your hips down, your pussy swallowing his whole cock in one swift motion. Ghost kept a hand on your back and one on your hip as he started to bounce you on his thick length. You whimpered and squeezed his cock as you felt him spread your tight hole open.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he purred and nuzzled your neck. Your pent up energy was buzzing throughout your body as you felt your lower muscles tighten. You could feel your mind slipping further away as pleasure sparked in each nerve ending. You screamed when he raised his mask over his lips and bit down on your shoulder. You couldn't stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks as your breathing grew ragged with each bounce. Ghost licked at the deep bitemark before sucking a hickey onto your neck.

“Cum for me,” he husked. Your head fell back as you cried, your pussy convulsing around his cock.

Your vision became stark white as you desperately bucked against his cock, your body tensing in his hold as your orgasm ripped through you. You couldn’t hear anything but ringing in your ears as pure bliss washed over you. Your bones were jelly as Ghost licked and bite along your neck, each miniscule movement sending you further into a deep abyss of ecstasy. He grunted as he carried you back over to the table, laying you down on your back. Your legs dangled over the edge as he slapped his cock against your swollen clit. You moaned with half-lidded eyes as he pumped his shaft a few more times and let his thick seed spill onto your mound.

Both of you panted as he leaned over you, his cock softening against your soaked folds. Your head was dizzy, the room spinning around you as you found your eyelids starting to droop. He chuckled as he stroked your sides.

"I believe the name of El Sin Nombre's location is in order," Ghost whispered. You dug through your muddled mind before you swallowed thickly.

"C-Cuidad Juárez," you slurred. Ghost grunted before slipping away. He glanced at you as he tucked his cock back into his slacks. He slid your pants and panties back on before literally dragging you onto the chair. The hulking man looked you up and down before turning to walk out. Just as he opened the door, he paused and turned his head.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Ghost said with a short nod.

---

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @notthatfanfictionwriter @mrswhitethornbelikov @crissteetee67

#call of duty #cod #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #cod smut #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #ghost cod x reader #simon riley #mw2 ghost #ghost simon riley

[liaromancewriter]

The Negotiation

Premise: Ethan has a huge favor to ask of Cassie. But it’s going to cost him.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 740

A/N: Set during Book 3. I’m participating in @creativepromptsforwriting​ Fluff Week. Prompt 10 from this sentence starters list. Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills​.  Submission for @choicesaugustchallenge Day 13 prompt “Coworkers AU”

Dr. Ethan Ramsey hated putting on a show as much as he did talking to interns when he didn’t have to. It’s not that he hated interns, although there were moments. He didn’t have the patience to deal with their incessant questions and subtle (and not so subtle) hero worship.

Only one intern had managed to hold his attention long enough for it to not matter. And now she owed him. At least that was his reasoning for the favor he was going to ask one Dr. Cassie Valentine.

He looked up when the Diagnostic Team’s office doors slid open. He peered at Cassie from above the rims of his reading glasses, setting them aside when she took the seat across from him. He smiled when she handed him a cup of coffee while she sipped from her own.

“You paged, Dr. Ramsey?”

She sat back and crossed her legs. The movement had her skirt rising. Ethan’s eyes drifted to the bare skin visible above her knees. When she loudly cleared her throat, he blushed and quickly looked away. Her wicked grin told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Ah, yes. I need a favor,” he said. When his laptop pinged a notification, he closed the lid to avoid distractions.

“Naveen has asked me to speak to a group of sub-interns today during lunch. I want you to do it instead,” he said matter-of-factly.

“No dice. Naveen didn’t ask me,” she smirked. “You're on your own, babe."

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "As a third-year resident, you are required to mentor and train interns. And that includes sub-Is. It's part of your training and will help prepare you for attending-hood."

"Uh-huh," she said dismissively, finishing her coffee. "What's the real reason?"

"You owe me," he countered severely.

She scoffed. "How do you figure that?"

He got comfortable, leaning back in his chair and locking his hands behind his head. "If you must know, you ruined my reputation among interns. Everyone thinks I've gone soft. They want the Ramsey Touch, as Naveen called it; lessons to survive an internship."

Cassie burst out laughing. "The Ramsey Touch? I love it. Is that when you call an innocent intern an amateur even before they attend orientation? Or when you assign them a PITA that burps in their face and questions their every move? Or how about…."

"Very funny," he cut in impatiently. "You know you love a challenge. If I hadn't pushed you as hard I did, you wouldn't have been the top-ranking intern for so long."

"Huh. I expected a better argument than that." She mused, tapping her index finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe you are going soft."

He quirked one eyebrow. "If we didn't have a team meeting in ten minutes, I would take great pleasure in proving you wrong about that."

"Well, there's always tonight," Cassie said, giving him a lascivious look. "I look forward to seeing how hard you can get." Her expression turned shrewd. "I have a counteroffer for you. I will take your place at the intern luncheon today, but I need something from you. A quid pro quo."

"I see," Ethan said cautiously. "What do you need?"

"I want to go dancing with my boyfriend," said Cassie. "Pick an evening; wear that dark suit with the blue tie that makes you look hunky." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, making him roll his eyes. "I’ll wear that red dress you like and drive you crazy all night. And then you’ll take me back to your apartment and….”

The doors behind her slid open before she could finish her thought. Ethan silently groaned, hiding his frustration as the rest of the team filed in.

“To be continued?” He whispered before speaking in his normal voice. “So, Dr. Valentine, it’s confirmed. I’ll let Naveen know you’ll speak at the intern lunch today in my stead.”

“Sounds good, Dr. Ramsey,” Cassie told him in the same professional tone before dropping her voice.

"I think I deserve a kiss for this, and I plan to collect." She smiled and winked at him before joining the others at the conference table.

Ethan watched her walk away until he caught Tobias staring at him, a knowing smirk on his lips. Instead of rising to the challenge, Ethan sighed and grabbed the patient files on his desk.

“Okay, team,” he began, coming to stand at the head of the table. “Let’s get started.”

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @natureblooms24

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso

@choicesficwriterscreations​ @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfics #playchoices fanfic #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choicesaugust2022 #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #ethan x mc

[desireur]

@cartelheir sent the following: 06. in a private jet, on the way to a business trip. + Partition - One muse puts on their best lingerie to seduce the other

V.01 ━━ In his line of business, there was a set of unspoken guidelines formed from common sense to keep things professional and safe, with the most prominent ones being: Don't gamble other people's money, don't fuck with your own clients [ or their wives ]. In the past 27 years Le Chiffre managed to break both of those with, with enough frequency for it to end up in the file MI-6 once had on him. Patricia was one of those frequent trespassions.

This whole ordeal was good proof of why the said common sense was important. Quantum's meetings were sparse, but hidden in plain sight, this time Dvořák's Armida at the National Theater being their cover. Once his obligations were out of the way, he had arranged that he had a new potential client for her own business. Quid pro quo, as had always worked for him, and didn't seemed to bother Patricia.

He had just put the phone back in his jacket's pocket when they reached cruising altitude, eye seeking her only to find her standing, speaking to the [ significantly taller ] air hostess, half-smiling lips instructed the woman to leave, the cabin's door clicking after her. He never ceased to find amusing her capacity to impose and control despite the petite construction. Once the cabin door clicked close, it took but a second for the same commanding air to turn to him, prompting his own lips to mimic her smirk. His attention wasn't optional.

At some point that Le Chiffre Marcel couldn't bother to recollect the short distance ceased from existing, and Patricia had made herself comfortable on his lap, still with the unwavering demanding glare despite his hands already resting on her tighs ━ now only felt, as his eyes had long lowered from hers, focusing on everything beneath ━ as the straps of her Coperni leather dress were pulled, a familiar bra revealed from under it, a gift he thought fitting to 'mourn' Cèsar's demise. ❛❛ << I knew gold would suit you. >> ❜❜ Spanish felt appropriate, warmer than english, closer to his own french and to the feeling [ carnal as it was ] that was behind the sliding up of hands, move which ended with hands unabashedly gropping her ass, pulling her closer.

In no time sheer tulle, golden embroidery and golden jewelry were the only things left on her, a much more fitting look in his opinion. Her own demands were made known through grinding hips, removed tie and open button shirt. The entire week being spent between business and sex hardly made it all boring to him, the same readiness made itself present each time, except this time it pushed prudence away, pointless really, as he couldn't materialize condoms and stopping wasn't even seen as option. Patricia been his sole company for the past week either way... There was little consequence to be considered, and neither commented on it.

One smooth move of his hands was enough to pull her an inch upwards, index and middle finger sliding under delicate fabric, one pulling it aside as other began teasing her cunt, entering her after a vocal request he saw fit to oblige, and she saw fit to retribute, a single hand expertly undoing his belt and zipper, already hardened cock being pullled out and jerked. Yet again there are lost seconds between rushed preparations and her hand guiding his erection inside her, a fluid move of her hips settled him deep inside with a delighted moan, and a steady rhythm was prompty found by her hips. She had time to do whatever she pleased, his control being forsaken willingly. At least for the moment, as the firm squeeze on the sides of her hips reminded.

#/ usfw #002://_asks #cartelheir #jsbvyuhsbvs ANYWAY IM RUSTY #HAVE THIS THING. GOOD LUCK FOR THEIR AIR STAFF I GUESS BC THEY WONT BE THIS QUIET THE WHOLE FLIGHT

[neon-prison]

Crossed Wires Ch 8

AO3 link HERE.

Pairing: Delamain/V

Status: Ongoing

Rating: E (Mostly M)

V spent the next few days unpacking all the shit she’d klepped. Word on the street said Netwatch was out in full force, scouring the net with the digital equivalent of a fine toothcomb. She guessed they were banking on some rookie mistake, hitting up known circles in hopes of finding classified intel to trace back to their thief, but V knew better than to hawk hot info for a quick payday. Laying low was both the smart and efficient play, and she took advantage of the downtime to put her affairs in order. Plus, there was a lot to sort through once she’d unarchived the files, from organizing loose information to untangling deeply embedded digital mines that would fry most runners at first contact.

The work should have been tedium, but it was a welcome respite from the storm of string in the physical world, and V took her time, picking and sorting everything into neat little packets with timed triggers. It was as close to a will as she was gonna get. Most of it would have to sit on the back burner for a week or two, but there was one piece of info that couldn’t wait. Opening her holo, V sent out a ping.

Wakako picked up almost immediately. “Hello, V,” she said politely but with the ever-present undertone of impatience. “What can I do for you?” V had known Wakako for far too long to take a question like that at face value. Despite the pleasantries, the fixer was all biz.

“I got something for you.” V didn’t bother with niceties, knowing that the fixer didn’t have much tolerance for them anyways. She punctuated the sentence with a packet of data and waited patiently as Wakako’s runner scanned it for malware.

Wakako’s jaw suddenly clenched, the only flaw in her otherwise flawless facade of unnerving civility. A long pause bloomed between them until the fixer tersely broke it, “What…do I owe you for this?” A prudent question, given how steep the tab could go.

That is if it were anyone else on the line but V.

“Nothin’,” She said, toppling the fundamental pillar of their quid-pro-quo relationship in one word.

“That is not how business is done,” Wakako whispered, dangerous. V was treading on thin ice, and she knew better than anyone about the terrible dangers lurking below the fixer’s brittle stillness. But confident in her footing, she met the Wakako’s flinty glare, all preamble gone, as cold and serious as she’d ever been.

“You know this isn’t biz,” she could’ve asked the Wakako for the fuckin’ moon and still had a fistful of favors to burn, but there were things in this life more important than eddies. No reason to insult Wakako by telling her it was personal…for both of ‘em. She’d grown up with Akira and dined at the Okada family’s house more often than she could count. They were good people, innocent- an unfortunately tempting combination for Arasaka, who were looking to take a cheap shot at the Tyger Claw’s leadership following a disastrous raid. Years later, V didn’t understand what the death of a fourteen-year-old boy netted them, except Wakako’s black rage, simmering to this day.

They squared off in silence until Wakako relented, “I will not forget this.” The veneer of civility was long gone, leaving only the bitter, conniving hag that counted a never-ending list of grudges. “Thank you, V.” At least she could cross one off the list.

Too bad she’d never be around to see Wako put those fuckers into the ground, another regret V wouldn’t live to enjoy. Unsure what to do with the emotions coursing through her, V settled on a shrug. “Have a good one, Wakako,” she said, shutting off the holo and flopping back against the bed with a vague sense of anxiety.

Hanako’s sudden text compounded it, reminding V that the hour of reckoning was approaching. The meet was set for tomorrow, date and time as immutable as the laws of gravity. Idly, she thumbed through the rest of her contacts, a small smile tilting the corners of her mouth as V checked off each one. If the time for regrets was over, then at least she’d wrapped up as many loose ends as she could. Ends wrapped, V found herself awkwardly free. The absence of urgency forced her to pace across her apartment to try and drain the anxiety. The sun was going to set soon, usually an indicator to get her ass in gear for the next gig. But what was she supposed to do now? It felt wasteful to use her last night for cruising around on NCPD biz or-

“A good fuck’ll do you wonders,” Johnny interrupted from her bed, materializing some kind of rubber ball to bounce against the wall as an outlet for the tension that bled over. “Just get drunk and get laid; it’s what I would do.”

She dropped beside him, legs restlessly tapping a nervous rhythm. The thought of fumbling with some drunk-tit gonk in a filthy club lounge rolled her stomach. “Kinda feels like I should do something…like, important, for my last day.”

“Getting that stick out your ass and replacing it with something better is important.” He replied crudely, angrier than usual. “And It’s not gonna be your last day,” Johnny swore, unusually vehement, throwing the ball with spectacular violence. V watched it bounce off the wall and roll along the floor till it dematerialized in a glitchy storm.“I told you Alt’ll fix us. Don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

V didn’t know if Johnny was trying to convince her or himself. She’d been putting off the inevitable for so long, pretending that if she went down punching every night, she’d wake up kicking in the morning. But every lead they’d chased was a dead end, and V had the weird sinking feeling that maybe she hadn’t spent her time as wisely as she should have. Beyond run-of-the-mill regrets, her brain was so bloated with digital threading that she was functionally blind most of the time, huddling in back alleys, bleeding through her eyes and ears with nothing but migraines for company. But arguing was pointless, so V let Johnny’s magnetic charisma drown out her screaming instincts. Who knows, maybe against all odds, Alt would come through. Maybe there was some happy end waiting for them at the end of the long, dark tunnel.

More like a long walk off a short pier…

“Stop moping," Johnny interrupted with an irritated grumble, swinging his legs over the edge of her messy bed. “Go out, get drunk- call one of your friends. Everyone on that list owes you at least a dozen shots.” Getting up, he paced, “Go do something; you’re driving me crazy.”

Driving? Seconds before she tapped on Panam’s name, an idea formed, splitting her face into a wide grin. “Good call, johnny.”

Johnny halfheartedly threw the ball at her head.

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

The fact that Johnny hadn’t made a single snide comment about her plans for the evening was impressive, though V wisely chose not to comment on it for fear of baiting the contrarian in him. End of the day, he owed V the same enthusiasm she’d had for his outing with Rogue, so it evened out. Watching her pop several pills without protest, Johnny disappeared from her consciousness with a two-fingered salute and an expression V couldn’t read. She brushed away the twinge of annoyance. Fuck it, it was her last night out, and V didn’t want to spend it thinking about Johnny.

Showering, V stared at the mirror, pulling out a blow-dryer with more dust than the badlands. One fire hazard later, she looked almost respectable, tying her hair in a more elaborate version of her usual style. It was silly to be nervous, but it had been so long since V carved time for herself that it felt almost alien to stand in front of her closet, wondering about aesthetics instead of optimal coverage or blood spatter. It was a shame that some of her favorites didn’t fit anymore, sliding down her thin frame when they’d fit her perfectly less than a month ago. An unexpected stab of grief shook her, but V bullied it out of her mind, choosing a dark, comfortable jacket with just enough bling to edge into fancy. She’d just have to make do with the rest. Staring at the mirror, V grinned at the sight of herself, having almost forgotten how fun it was to get dolled up, to test makeup and mix and match outfits, the whole deal. Her reflection looked respectable, like V was just another girl going out for a fun night instead of a final one. Finishing touches done; V holstered Vnity and downed two painkillers to stem the ever-present migraine before heading down the hallway and into the garage.

The Villefort hummed to life when V stepped out of the elevator, and sensitive sensors immediately picked up her signature ping, doors swinging open to accept her. V ducked into the passenger’s seat with a theatrically saucy wink, “Hey babe, come here often?”

“Good evening, Victoria,” Delamain greeted her, engine vibrating into a soft purr as soon as she settled in. “This is the current registered home address for this vehicle, so yes, I am here quite often.” The confusion in his tone made her chuckle, and she reached out to pet the dash. Processes skittered at the contact, bursting beneath her touch and reforming a moment later. The dots lined up, “Ah, that was a joke.” He paused, sounding disappointed, “The concept of humor is still a mystery.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” V interrupted the incoming apology, “Humor’s a personal, subjective thing. Give yourself time to develop your tastes, and humor’ll come after.” Over several weeks, she’d gotten pretty good at disseminating human traits to easily digestible sound bytes. Usually, she’d be down to talk about it at length, but V had time-sensitive plans: “Let me drop you the coordinates.” Much as she’d like to take the wheel, V could barely see the streets let alone drive through them. Crashing her precious Delamain Vehicle No.21 and dealing with insurance was not part of the evening’s itinerary. Delamain would have to do the honors.

Accepting the packet, Delamain paused, feeding the coordinates through his system to pinpoint the destination. “This is far from the Delamain Network’s regular service area.” He sounded hesitant, but the rearview map plotted the optimum course.

Shit. “Too far?” She wheedled, cringing. Delamain had offhandedly mentioned that he’d never been outside the proper city limits, but V hadn’t considered whether it was by choice or limitation. Hmm…That threw a snarl into the code, but there were other places, closer and less impactful but still fun-

“You need not worry about whether I will be able to maintain a stable connection,” Delamain interrupted as if he could sense her thoughts. Maybe they had been spending too much time together if he could read her that easily. “I will still be within acceptable safety margins. I chose Night City and the surrounding suburbs for peak service traffic, but they are not the true operational limits of the Network.” Delamain was being oddly loose-lipped today. Not that she was complaining, especially once the engine revved, pulling them out of the garage with inhuman smoothness. They merged into Night City traffic, weaving between cars with elegant deft, his precision closer to craft than algorithm. “However, my analyses indicate nothing of note in that area. May I ask the purpose of our visit?”

He was getting bolder by the day, and V grinned, proud. “Now that’s a secret.” The caution in his tone was warranted, given that the outskirts of the badlands were knee-deep in Raffen territory. Made sense his regular clientele never ventured out that far but V and Panam worked hard to scatter the shiv and send them back to their hidey-hole to lick their wounds. “But if it’ll make you feel better, it’s a personal matter- just you and me.”

“That sounds like you are leading me to an execution.” Delamain said, shocking V into startled laughter.

Coughing, V controlled herself. “And you said humor eludes you… Wait -” A worrying thought popped into her head. “You’re not talking from experience, are you?”

Delamain materialized in the rearview, looking convincingly affronted. “The Delamain Network expressly forbids the active use of vehicles to commit intentional violence against others. Combat mode was installed with the exclusive condition that it be used only as a means of self-defense. Clients in breach of their contract face immediate termination of their membership, cement a spot on the Delamain Network Blacklist and are reported to the Night City Police Department for further penalty. As for your question, I spent a considerable portion of my studies in humanity towards the consumption of classical media.”

V leaned forward, awed, “So you watched gangster movies?”

“....Yes. Humanity has an avid interest in organized crime.” Oh yeah, he looked embarrassed. “It was, of course, one of the many dozens of genres that I analyzed.” He added hurriedly, “I eventually abandoned the project once I determined the scope and effort of my studies would not lead me towards the end I hoped to achieve.”  

Remembering her disappointment at the news, V made sure not to voice that opinion. “You never did tell me what your end goal was.” It was one of the few things Delamain had never been upfront about, changing the subject as soon as V broached it. Eventually, she’d taken to personal guesses, though no fantasy reason could ever sate her curiosity. They rounded Kabuki, taking the highway towards the badlands. Long, iridescent strings of shimmering code choked every corner of the roundabout, and V closed her eyes in a pointless bid to block it out.

“It would be remiss of me to make any conclusions based on such little information.” Delamain repeated, justifying his excuses behind AI rationale. He could be suspiciously cagey whenever it suited him, wielding human expectations to his benefit and managing them with as much deft as he did his fleet. Close as she was, V knew better than to push, resisting curiosity with what seemed like a herculean effort.

“Where’d you leave off?” She asked instead, tackling the problem from another direction.

“The Remains of the Day.” He answered, judging her question safe enough for honesty.

Huh. “Never heard of it.” V made a note to look it up when she returned.

“It’s no matter,” came the glib response before he lapsed into silence.

The rest of the drive was in comfortable quiet, the world a soft golden glow behind her eyelids as the sun began to set. In the distance, V could feel the pulsing rhythm of Night City fading further and further away, tangling digital webs releasing their hold on her as they reached the city limits. Eventually, even those faint impressions melted, leaving Delamain’s silver gilt thread as their only connection. Considerate as always, he turned to her favorite Retrowave station, and the combination of synthetic beats along the purr of his well-tuned engine lulled V into a trance. A dozen miles later, the familiar hum of tires and cement turned to the bump of sand and gravel. A smile tugged at V’s lips. She shouldn’t have been surprised at the ease with which Delamain glided over the desert, overcoming obstacles that normal cars could barely handle with only a slight increase in effort. She opened her eyes as they angled towards a small cliff, climbing the steep incline in seconds.

“We have arrived at our destination,” Delamain announced, coming to a rolling stop. “Are we at the correct spot?” V doubted there was a more precise GPS in the world, but Delamain seemed set on being polite.

In the distance, Night City glimmered, reflecting the setting sun against its buildings in a shining glow. V grinned, “Yep, this is it.” Last time she’d been here was with Jackie, drinking to the sound of his absurd fantasies as he imagined some bright, ridiculously gilded future. The stories always ended with forty-something cars and twenty-something mansions, complete with real-water swimming pools and, of course, the mandatory harem of fawning groupies. He’d always been a little vague on how they got there, but Jackie had never been a journey type of a guy, obsessed with destinations just out of reach. Probably why he loved the view, how distance reshaped the gritty reality of Night City into a beautiful, fantastic dream. And between the two of them, Jackie had always been the dreamer- an unfortunate trait given that Night City primarily sated its appetite on dreamers and fools.

Stepping out, V took a deep breath, and the cold desert air burned her lungs. Grateful for the foresight of bringing a jacket, V stepped around Delamain and gingerly climbed atop him, planting her ass on the warm hood. Huddling, she shivered, “We’re a little early for the show; hope you’re not in a rush.”

“I have no record of large-scale events scheduled at this location or in Night City.” Delamain replied, and V had only a few seconds of warning, a staticky hum filling her audials before a figure materialized beside her in a brilliant, sudden flash.

“Holy shit-!”  V nearly rolled off the hood in panic, Vnity halfway out the holster before she recognized Delamain’s avatar. Catching herself in an awkward sprawl, V flailed and crawled back up the hood, wide-eyed and gawking. “The hell?! Since when do you have a holoprojector rigged to your systems?!” Had he always had it? Maybe V was just willfully blind and ignorant because there was some disconnect between her brain and what she was seeing. She gawped openly, failing miserably at hiding her shock.

“Victoria? Are you alright?” Delamain looked worried, features creasing as he awkwardly leaned toward her. “My apologies; I should have given you ample warning and…Victoria?” He looked at her, confused, "Is there something amiss? You are…staring.”  

Yeah. It was probably hella rude, but V couldn't stop staring any more than she could force Johnny to be civil. She leaned closer, brushing aside boundaries and personal space as curiosity took the reins.

Delamain, unused to any measure of physicality, didn’t have enough self-awareness to maintain distance as V nearly crawled over him, observing the intricate layers of light and code that formed his features, familiar yet different now that it was rendered in real space. The work was extraordinary, finer than anything on Jig Jig street. Several colors in full-spectrum hues layered over one another in tight bands, making him look deceptively solid unless you were close enough to see the minuscule, shifting gaps. Even the aura was bearable, tuned to a pleasing blue glow as opposed to the blinding garden-variety glare. Leaning back, V couldn’t hide the naked wonder on her face if she tried, “Jesus, Del, that is some preem tech.” The tracking was immaculate, eyes following her every movement despite having no hardwire connection to any optical sensors. It was an eerily lifelike replica, except… Glancing down, V bit back a snicker at the awkward assortment of holographic limbs as he bent half at the waist like a Ken doll. His legs were stick-straight over the hood, ruining the illusion. “Guessing it’s your first time tryin’ it out?”

“You are correct,” he said, lack of accompanying body language confirming it. “I employ certain algorithms that can convincingly mimic organic randomness in muscle movement. Alongside my emotion-based subroutines, they primarily concentrate on my face, serving as the basis for emotional expression. However, in the interests of preserving processing power, I do not render the rest of my ‘body’ and have not had an opportune moment to conduct trials in physical space.” His neck turned with alien detachment to look at V, “I can shutter this feature if it proves too disconcerting.” No need for advanced algorithms to relay that tone of disappointment.

“No, no!” V reassured, watching as Delamain raised his hands like he’d never seen them before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Practice makes perfect, right? Plus, you can have me as context.” Experiments always worked better with a controlled variable, and V would argue that she was a pretty well-practiced human. She watched him mull it over at Delamain speed, finally settling on folding his hands over his lap, prim and proper as ever.

“That is sound advice,” Delamain agreed, nodding with her, pleased at the thought of gathering information.

His hands distracted her again, and V couldn’t help it; she stared - trying to reconcile memory with some small difference…It was going to drive fuckin’ crazy; what was it?  V’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as it clicked a moment later, “Are you wearing…driving gloves? Wait- ” Flicking her eyes up, she let loose a delighted gasp, “Del, is that a new suit?”

V didn’t even wait for confirmation, a wide grin splitting her features as she puzzled out exactly the nagging difference. It was subtle, but Delamain was clad in the latest fashion, sporting a double-lapelled suit tipped with gold caps that mimicked the ones at the edges of his crisp, white shirt. Even his tie was different, dark, but with golden filigree lining the expensively recreated cloth, winding up to punctuate the look with an elegant golden pin- the same color as his new cufflinks. It was understated yet unmistakable, iconically Delamain- every cut and corner crafted to mirror the elegant lines of his fleet, layering an extra air of golden elegance over his usual gilded luxury. And those gloves… V was glad it was cold because she’d be sweating otherwise.

She’d been staring too long, and the delicate lines of his silver syntax twisted under her intense inspection. He paused, fidgeting “I…ah, believe it is customary to dress up for a date.” Delamain explained, looking down at himself with sudden shyness, “Is it to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” V whistled in vivid appreciation, “Ladykiller protocols activated. Once you get the hang of some ‘ganic movement, you’ll have to beat clients off with a stick.” Holographic projector or not, clients were gonna be tripping over themselves for some facetime.

“Feedback noted,” he preened at the compliment, self-professed slivers of vanity peeking through his carefully crafted façade. “However, I do not plan to use this iteration of my avatar with my clientele. Beyond the power requirements necessary to maintain the projector, it would dilute the Delamain Network’ to have its-” Suddenly self-aware of his potentially unflattering tangent, Delamain changed gears, pausing as he considered his next words, “This avatar is a special version for you, and I am glad to know you like it.”

Seemed a shame to keep drip like that in the backlogs, but V’s cheeks warmed. Grinning to hide the sudden embarrassment, V made to bump him with her elbow before realizing the futility of the gesture. “Could’ve at least warned me so I could try to match. Not that I can afford anything that fancy off my day job.” V once caught Johnny staring over her shoulder, positively misty-eyed at the sight of her barebones bank account.

“That would have been quite unnecessary,” He responded, looking her over, silver script flashing across his eyes as he logged…something. It seemed unlikely, but maybe he’d been just as slow in noticing V’s change in attire. “You are lovely in any garment you choose, as always.”

What a gonk. V snickered, charmed.

The little space between his brows crinkled, “Forgive me, but given how dangerous and high-stakes your work tends to be, I would have assumed you would be properly compensated for your time and effort.” A nice way to talk around the fact that she regularly bled out in his backseat. He suddenly frowned, looking her over like he was trying to understand something, “I have seen references on the net call you a “Charity Merc,” though I am struggling to understand the connection between what is considered a generally virtuous trait and the apparent disrespect of your alias.”

V winced, caught off guard by how much the nickname stung coming from Delamain. Figures Delamain would be fond of gossip. No way someone habitually watching the world through a billion cameras wouldn’t develop a voyeuristic streak. “Stalkin’ me online, huh?” It was meant to be teasing, but from how his delicate threading cringed, she wasn’t successful.

“Please forgive me,” Delamain apologized hastily, regret etched across his face, “I did not mean to offend you. After you reset my core, I had no memory of you beyond my predecessor’s logs, which I aimed to verify by searching for references that led me towards-” Recoiling, he stopped, struggling to find the right words to smooth things over.

Sting gone in the wake of her amusement, V watched him spin his wheels over an awkward apology. “Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him gently. She leaned on her hip a moment later and turned toward him, “You want the full story?”

Delamain mimicked her, his movements perfect, if unintentionally feminine. V could tell he was struggling against innate curiosity, and she interrupted his train of thought, fearing that his earlier gaffe might reestablish rigid propriety protocols and set them back several weeks, “Firsthand account’s gotta be better than forum gossip, right?”

She’d been right to bank on AI logic because Delamain hesitated before rising to the bait, “Only if you are amenable. I admit I have been rather curious, but I…wouldn’t want you to revisit any unpleasant memories.”

“Nah, babe. You’re good. I appreciate the due diligence. Not like I would believe a note left by a previous version of myself without cross-checking either.” If Johnny were here, he would have helpfully reminded V of the time she tried on a brain dance left in the trash. Twice. Glaring hypocrisy aside, V turned her gaze towards the darkening horizon. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a single defining event that netted her the nickname. “Hmm…might have to start at the beginning for this.”

“I remember you mentioning your mother,” Delamain prompted, giving her an easy segue.

Latching on the hook, V nodded, unsurprised at the depth of his memory banks, “Yeah. Helen. She actually adopted me.” Pinging Del, V airdropped a packet. It was a photo of a blonde woman with short-cropped hair, a wide smile, and a face so ordinary that it could be forgotten the moment she stepped out of sight. “She took me in as a baby. Never knew who my real parents were, but I spent years makin’ up stories- super elaborate fantasies about being the long-lost heiress of Militech or something.” V grimaced, thinking back to those years like every adult did: cringing. “Yeah, it was all very silly.”

“Questions about one’s origin is something I have found to be an innate part of humanity,” Delamain offered gently, referencing his studies. “The desire to understand one’s source and find further purpose is only…” he looked confused- as if he’d just realized something, “...natural.”

A smile tugged at her mouth at his insight, obviously born from personal struggles. “So I started taking up crazy jobs that got kids bigger and smarter than me killed on the daily.” Delamain would blow a gasket if he realized her stunt with Pacifica was probably less dangerous than some of the shit she pulled as a kid. “I didn’t care about the eddies ‘cause I figured if I made enough noise and got enough attention, my real family would sweep in and fly me away to some castle in the sky.” V always regretted being such an ass to Helen in those early pubescent years, but at that time, she didn’t know how to channel her restless curiosity, and it ended up bleeding into anger. Anger which she took out on her adopted mother- who, looking back, had the patience of a fuckin’ saint. “So I ended up with a reputation. If there was something dumb, dangerous, and crazy risky, you could count on me.” Hmm. Awkward to realize that she hadn’t really changed all that much.

Then the Valentinos and Tyger Claws pulled iron over a few petty pounds of synthcoke, “And Helen got caught in the crossfire.” The memory was a mottled scar, a scab repeatedly picked in the middle of healing, but she’d made enough peace that it didn’t fill her with grief like it used to. “After that, I was alone,” Night City was scary for a thirteen-year-old with no family.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Delamain responded, more earnestly saddened now than when Jackie bled out in his backseat, but V didn’t hold it against him.

“So all those jobs I used to do? Yeah, I started doin’ 'em to trade for clothes, food, and other stuff.” There wasn’t a particular point where she got the alias, but the first whispers probably started then. “Valentino kids used to make fun of me for it. They started makin’ bets on who could make me take the stupidest, most demeaning job for the smallest scraps.” She grinned at Delamain, who was staring with compassion and avid interest, “Babe, I got into so many fights.” She had scars on her knuckles for years ‘till she traded them for Gorilla hands. It was expensive, but watching Diego and his goons hit the dirt was totally worth it.

“I did not realize you had to endure such hardship,” Delamain’s face twisted, features arranging themselves into an unreadable expression, learning a new combination in real time. The final result looked slightly unsettled: "You deserved much better.”

Now wasn’t that the story of NC. “Then I met Mama Welles when I tried to break into her bar, but she recognized me ‘cause I helped a friend of hers a few weeks before. So instead of turning me over to NCPD, she gave me food and a place to sleep for the night.” The memory was fond, something she pulled out on rainy days to cheer herself up. “Anyways, I was sleeping on a scratchy sofa when I suddenly realized that I spent so long fantasizing about some imaginary family that I never took time to appreciate the people who took care of me, ‘specially when they didn’t have to.” When V needed food, Ellie from the corner store never ran out of her favorite snack. Hernando always had spares in her size when her shirt had too many holes. Looking back, the vendors on her block always had her side, and the community found a way to provide V with anything she needed.

“After that, my attitude changed, and I started doin’ the low-paying, hard jobs ‘cause people needed someone watching out for them, and I wanted to give something back.” Shrugging, she continued, mired in memory, “I spent the rest of my life turning “Charity Merc” into something I could be proud of. Though some people never got over first impressions.” It was always an uphill battle with fixers who only knew her by rep. “After that, well,” She turned to her companion with a small grin, “You know the rest.” And the ending.

Delamain was staring, his attention like a pinpoint laser. “Thank you for sharing,” he said with unnecessary gravitas, as if V had just imparted some secret of the universe instead of Night City’s most common backstory. “Forgive me for my boldness, but I would like to posit that you have succeeded in your aims and much more. Many boards I frequented sang your praises, sentiments my predecessor and I share.”

Her cheeks flooded, and V fought the urge to look away, “Thanks, babe. Means a lot, coming from you.”

“Did you ever locate your birth parents?” He was strangely curious, but V chalked it up to AI peculiarity.

She shook her head, “Nope. Never looked either ‘cause I realized if they cared, they wouldn’t have thrown me behind a dumpster in the first place.”

In the corner of her eye, she saw delicate threads of code snarl in a nasty tangle for a long moment. Delamain’s face stuttered, twitching in unison, expression hilariously outraged, “Behind a dumpster?” His tone was incredulous, so sincerely horrified that it glitched into pure static, sending V into uncontrollable giggles.

“Don’t look so scandalized,” she laughed off his shock. “Alleyways are Night City’s most common orphanages. Who knows,” she teased, “If I look hard enough, I might find a sibling or two a street over.”

He frowned, and V couldn’t take him seriously with such a comically stern expression, “While I appreciate your ability to bring levity into difficult circumstances, I am appalled at the notion of someone….” He looked distraught, "discarding you.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I think I made it out ok. Just took a few knocks and learned some hard lessons.” Inhaling a lungful of freezing desert air, she met his gaze, enjoying the backlit glow and warmth of his holographic form. “Plus,” she amended, “if everything was different, I might not have had the chance to befriend the smartest and slickest AI this side of the continent.”

It was meant to be a softhearted tease, but the way his silver gaze melted under the compliment made her shiver. “Do you really think so?” He asked, hushed.

“Absolutely,” V whispered, suddenly breathless, caught in the gravitational pull of his question. “I’m so proud of you.”

The praise seemed to go right through him, translating through his delicate coding with a shiver. “Feedback noted,” Delamain murmured, and a sudden silence bloomed; the air between them charged.

V watched his face and tracked the shimmering holographic strands that made his aquiline features, trying to gauge the tension between them and read the intent in his machine-spun processes. After a moment, a flash of understanding dawned. “You want to kiss me.”

The words were gentle, but Delamain reacted to them like a physical blow. He struggled against the accusation, eyes flicking to her lips as her words gave form to contextual connections. Newly foreign impulses reared their heads to war against hard-coded propriety protocols, demanding capitulation. They stayed there, locked in each other’s orbit for what seemed like an eternity before Delamain shuddered, surrendering, "Yes.”

V took the next step, gently leading because he had no inborn instinct, no knowledge of how to proceed. A token piece of her hesitated, but if all she had was tonight, didn’t V deserve something for herself? The strength of her desire was surprising, washing out resistance as she closed the gap, using the privacy of the space between them to admit the breadth of her feelings- if only to herself.

He mirrored her, body leaning forward in perfect technical mimicry as they finally connected.

The kiss was livewire, electrical charge and heat skittering across her face as flesh met light. It was an uncomplicated, chaste kiss, all the more precious for the care and consideration he put into it. Delamain was delicate in how he angled himself, mindful of his ephemeral form, silver script calculating her shifting body down to the millimeter as he adjusted in tandem, heuristic algorithms learning from their contact in real time. Endeared by the effort, a soft, affectionate noise escaped her, and his form fluttered at the sound. Distantly, she heard his engine rev, the hood growing infinitesimally warmer beneath her fingers.

V was angling herself closer when sparks lit her vision. A sudden pop under the hood scattered his form, leaving her yelping in the dark, awkwardly clutching air. “Del?” Rubbing her eyes, V blinked, vision stabilizing after an embarrassing few seconds, “You alright?”

“...Yes, forgive me.” He answered after a short pause, audio suspiciously staticky, “The holographic projector’s capacitors were unable to process simultaneous streams of data and ah- seem to have…overheated.”

Stifling the urge to giggle, V was secretly flattered. But not wanting to compound insecurity, she turned on her scanners instead. His processor, finer and more delicately crafted than the holographic form, rippled like waves across her feed. Didn’t look like anything was broken, but still, “Need a hand?”

“I appreciate the offer of assistance, but recalibration will take less than five minutes.” The thin lines of his repair protocols wound beneath her, tangling around what V could only assume was the projector housing. His previous timidness was gone, replaced by a single-minded focus on his assigned task, “The damage to the projector was superficial, though I would like to make sure that you did not sustain any unintentional harm.”  

V knew better than to argue against that tone. Staring at the loom of his processor, V tried to catch the flickering numbers as he scanned her. But even with her newfound sight and mental reflexes, Delamain was too quick, script flashing in a seamless blend that looked like a river of light. There was some serious power under the hood, and V resisted the urge to dip her fingers. “You know,” she started, rolling to her back, absorbing the bleeding warmth of his engine, “Vik said your medical scanning tech was some of the best he’d ever seen, and you mentioned wanting to expand. Have you ever considered partnering? Like with Trauma?”

“That is an interesting proposition,” Delamain replied thoughtfully, corresponding data threads looping as he digested it. “The idea is quite sound.” New information looped across his processors, threading new information toward the broad city horizon.

“Just a thought,” V responded, enjoying the lingering warmth across her back as she waited for him to finish the repairs.

“The holographic projector has been repaired,” Delamain warned, considerate of surprising her again. “It will be coming online in 3…2…1.”  Timing exact with his countdown, Delamain’s avatar rematerialized in a series of glowing lines, machinery humming smoothly beneath her.

“Welcome back,” V greeted him with a bright smile, taking note of the subtle curvature of his limbs as he draped over the hood much more naturally, only a hint of his previous stiffness apparent if someone were to look too closely. AI learning was just something else….”You gonna be good?”

“Yes. Thankfully, neither of us is any worse for wear.” He looked moderately pleased with his success, "I have taken several measures to compensate for any single-point failures in the future. Barring any unexpected…" Delamain looked at V as if he’d just suddenly remembered what caused the failure in the first place, and his voice crackled at the edges, “...surges in the system.”

Before she could tease him, a flicker in the distance caught her attention. V turned immediately, settling back on her ass and gesturing excitedly towards the horizon, “Oh, great timing! It’s starting!” Grabbing at Delamain before she could remember he was hollow, V laughed and pointed towards the city. Her friend’s gaze obediently followed her outstretched hand. The sun had set, leaving only a quickly fading crimson scar to kiss the dusty horizon. Against the inky red backdrop of the sky, Night City was a glittering, iridescent pearl of diffused neon and twinkling spotlights. It was a beautiful sight, but not the one V brought them out for. That happened a moment later in a staggering sequence of power meant to draw from the city’s energy reserves in steps to avoid cascade failure. Close up, the change was impossible to clock, like staring at a corner of a painting. But they were dozens of kilometers away, and at this distance, brushing the edges of the badlands, Night City lived up to its reputation as the jewel of the west.

Beginning at the lowest levels, billboards flickered, advertisements tuning to a single channel of rippling color. Then, rising like a wave, it engulfed the smaller buildings, lighting up the lower floors and reflecting dying sunlight off the armor-meshed windows like a prism. Drones and aviation lights followed suit, glittering across the sea of color like stars. The tide overtook the winding megabuildings that dotted the city landscape, lighting them like oversaturated beacons in an ever-shifting multicolored band. Soon enough, even the high-rises were submerged, and the entire city turned into a dazzling rainbow display, entirely accidental yet heartbreakingly sublime. Misty had shown her old holos of the Aurora Borealis, and maybe it was arrogant to think that they could match nature, but watching Night City light up in a single, unified wave of rippling color? V liked to think they came pretty damn close.

Overwhelmed by emotion, V drew her knees to her chest. Memories flooded her, snippets of conversations with her friends, the taste of her favorite burger joint, the low-level murmur of people’s voices as she stared out her apartment windows…her entire life felt so small and far away, every formative experience contained to a single, tiny, glittering dot on the horizon. Living in Night City, it was easy to get swept away in the endless tidal wave of chaos, succumbing to ceaseless waves churning you over and over until there was nothing left but smooth, weathered stone. That’s what the last few weeks had been like for V, a grueling swim against the tide with no land in sight. But watching the colors fade and the city return to its regularly scheduled cacophony of noise and advertisements, V knew that Johnny was wrong. There was no going back, and she was suddenly fiercely glad she chose to spend her final night with someone she cared about, sharing a view that meant the world to her.

Eventually, noise started to bleed back, and V’s pinpoint focus diffused to her immediate surroundings. Turning her head, she watched the subtle interplay of light across Delamain’s face, his avatar a blue, gleaming beacon in the darkness.

He stared at Night City for a long while, unblinking. The decision to drive out had been a good one, and V didn’t doubt for a second that Delamain wouldn’t be as enamored of the view as she was. Absently, from the corner of her eye, she watched little bursts of data travel along the silver string that connected them back to his HQ. V imagined his neural pathways twining, surging, and coalescing, logging everything he saw in clinically precise but sensory-rich detail. What was it like to see the city from all those different perspectives, to simultaneously exist in hundreds of points? Soon, even the sky would be part of his domain. V was proud to have contributed a new view, but she still envied him.

“So?” V ventured, breaking the silence that wrapped around them like a fog, startling them back to self-awareness. “Different from the outside, huh?”

“Yes,” he murmured softly. “That was a remarkable experience. Thank you for sharing it with me.” V felt another rush of electrical current running beneath her palms. There was no mistaking his intent this time. He turned, gaze as intense, as bright and brilliant as the city itself. “Victoria,” Delamain’s voice was a silver-soft plea, “Kiss me again. Please.”

V nodded and this time, it was Delamain who leaned forward first, sweeping her with newfound boldness. She closed the final gap, gasping at the kiss, hand coming up to cradle the ephemeral cut of his jaw where her chrome tingling at the contact. It was only a facsimile, just a holoform, but the way he shivered and fluttered at her touch made their connection real, physical. Bands of light sparked, prickling against her lips in delicate patterns. It was like kissing electricity, charged air pinging her cyberware, making her lightheaded. It was nothing like their hardwire connection, no feedback loop drowning out reason to leave only frenzy, and V relished in their sobriety, enjoying the liberty to give freely without expectation or condition. Beneath her fingertips, V felt the faint impressions of his processes as he recorded everything with indelible detail.

Hanako, V’s impending death, the endless tangled strings of Night City, the reaper’s blade, everything faded- washed away in the wake of Delamain’s glowing presence, drowned in the dull roar of his engine. Tomorrow was inevitable, but he’d given her the gift of now.  

Grateful, V closed her eyes and simply existed.

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

Back home, she’d barely managed to take off her clothes before the painkillers wore off. Clad in exhaustion and chasing sleep to escape the familiar ache of a migraine, V crumpled into bed, turning in time to see Johnny materialize beside her.

He turned his head just as her eyelids began to droop, “So what, you’re basically Murk Man?”

“Oh god…No…" V went to sleep horrified.

#cyberpunk 2077 #Delamain #V #Neon_fics #neon_writes #they finally kiss jesus #this drawing was originally meant for this chapter

[valkyriesexual]

Please share some links to help understand roe v Wade better and also how it impacts the people

well roe v. wade was the 1973 supreme court decision that affirmed that a woman has a constitutionally protected right, to an extent, to terminate a pregnancy. the right stems from the penumbral theory of privacy rights, that all specifically enumerated rights in the bill of rights (right to be free of unreasonable searches/seizures, right not to have to let soldiers stay in your house lol) are undergirded by a concept of privacy so fundamental that it didn't need to be explicitly stated. roe v. wade established the trimester framework, in which the government interest in "protecting life"/regulating abortion increases the longer a pregnancy goes on.

roe v. wade was essentially chipped away at over the years, including, most significantly, planned parenthood v. casey, which was decided in 1992. casey held that states can enact all kinds of barriers to access to abortion, so long as it does not create an "undue burden".

basically, the undue burden standard was pretty toothless until the 2013 decision of whole women's health v. hellerstedt, finding that the texas scheme which was allegedly about requiring admittance privileges at hospitals for a doctor to hand out abortion pills in the first trimester, a scheme would essentially force all existing clinics to close, was an undue burden.

that was a big happy decision. then, 3 years later, trump elected, mitch mcconnell steals the seat that belonged to merrick garland, installs neil gorsuch. then a federalist society quid pro quo scheme to get anthony kennedy to retire and a promise that brett kavanaugh would fill his seat, then RBG dies (because she kind of arrogantly wanted HRC to fill her seat, but honestly mcconnell would have just stolen her seat had she retired during obama's second term anyway so), and barrett is rushed through the confirmation process - with like no fucking trial experience - while people are alreaDY VOTING in the 2020 election...

and then whole women's health v. jackson (the texas third party bounty law) and dobbs... and now states can outlaw abortion in its entirety and/or criminalize abortion. and any doctor still willing to help women who don't want to be pregnant, and any woman who tries to end her own pregnancy, can face criminal and civil charges in any state that chooses to enact such a statutory scheme.

i'd recommend people to the works of kate shaw, melissa murray, and leah litman, & their production, the strict scrutiny podcast for analysis. check out whole woman's health action page (here)

& the worlds most terrifying article: we're not going back to the time pre-roe. we're going somewhere worse.

Both abortion and miscarriage currently occur more than a million times each year in America, and the two events are often clinically indistinguishable. Because of this, prohibition states will have a profoundly invasive interest in differentiating between them. Some have already laid the groundwork for establishing government databases of pregnant women likely to seek abortions. Last year, Arkansas passed a law called the Every Mom Matters Act, which requires women considering abortion to call a state hotline and requires abortion providers to register all patients in a database with a unique I.D. Since then, six other states have implemented or proposed similar laws. The hotlines are provided by crisis pregnancy centers: typically Christian organizations, many of which masquerade as abortion clinics, provide no health care, and passionately counsel women against abortion. Crisis pregnancy centers are already three times as numerous as abortion clinics in the U.S., and, unlike hospitals, they are not required to protect the privacy of those who come to them. For years, conservative states have been redirecting money, often from funds earmarked for poor women and children, toward these organizations. The data that crisis pregnancy centers are capable of collecting—names, locations, family details, sexual and medical histories, non-diagnostic ultrasound images—can now be deployed against those who seek their help.

and

If you become pregnant, your phone generally knows before many of your friends do. The entire Internet economy is built on meticulous user tracking of purchases and search terms. Laws modelled on Texas’s S.B. 8, which encourages private citizens to file lawsuits against anyone who facilitates an abortion, will proliferate, giving self-appointed vigilantes no shortage of tools to track and identify suspects. (The National Right to Life Committee recently published policy recommendations for anti-abortion states that included criminal penalties for anyone who provides information about self-managed abortion “over the telephone, the internet, or any other medium of communication.”) A reporter for Vice recently spent a mere hundred and sixty dollars to purchase a data set on visits to more than six hundred Planned Parenthood clinics. Brokers sell data that make it possible to track journeys to and from any location—say, an abortion clinic in another state. In Missouri, this year, a lawmaker proposed a measure that would allow private citizens to sue anyone who helps a resident of the state get an abortion elsewhere; as with S.B. 8, the law would reward successful plaintiffs with ten thousand dollars. The closest analogue to this kind of legislation is the Fugitive Slave Act of 1793

and

Pregnancy is more than thirty times more dangerous than abortion. One study estimates that a nationwide ban would lead to a twenty-one-per-cent rise in pregnancy-related deaths. Some of the women who will die from abortion bans are pregnant right now. Their deaths will come not from back-alley procedures but from a silent denial of care: interventions delayed, desires disregarded. They will die of infections, of preëclampsia, of hemorrhage, as they are forced to submit their bodies to pregnancies that they never wanted to carry, and it will not be hard for the anti-abortion movement to accept these deaths as a tragic, even noble, consequence of womanhood itself.

and

In the meantime, abortion bans will hurt, disable, and endanger many people who want to carry their pregnancies to term but who encounter medical difficulties. Physicians in prohibition states have already begun declining to treat women who are in the midst of miscarriages, for fear that the treatment could be classified as abortion. One woman in Texas was told that she had to drive fifteen hours to New Mexico to have her ectopic pregnancy—which is nonviable, by definition, and always dangerous to the mother—removed. Misoprostol, one of the abortion pills, is routinely prescribed for miscarriage management, because it causes the uterus to expel any remaining tissue. Pharmacists in Texas, fearing legal liability, have already refused to prescribe it. If a miscarriage is not managed to a safe completion, women risk—among other things, and taking the emotional damage for granted—uterine perforation, organ failure, infection, infertility, and death.

and

In Texas, already, children aged nine, ten, and eleven, who don’t yet understand what sex and abuse are, face forced pregnancy and childbirth after being raped. Women sitting in emergency rooms in the midst of miscarriages are being denied treatment for sepsis because their fetuses’ hearts haven’t yet stopped. People you’ll never hear of will spend the rest of their lives trying and failing, agonizingly, in this punitive country, to provide stability for a first or fifth child they knew they weren’t equipped to care for.

so yeah.

#answered #sources cited #pro choice #protect women #pro abortion #without apology

[beardedmrbean]

NEW YORK (Reuters) - A federal appeals court on Wednesday refused to overturn Michael Avenatti's conviction for extorting Nike, setting back the disgraced celebrity lawyer's effort to shorten his potential 19-year stay in prison.

In a 3-0 decision, the 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Manhattan rejected Avenatti's claims that the evidence didn't support his conviction and that jurors were instructed incorrectly about whether he defrauded his client out of his "honest services."

Avenatti, 52, gained fame in 2018 while representing porn actress Stormy Daniels in litigation against then-U.S. President Donald Trump.

His February 2020 conviction arose from his tape-recorded threat the prior March to stain Nike's reputation and hurt its stock price by exposing the athletic wear company's alleged corrupt payments to families of college basketball prospects.

Avenatti was heard threatening to "blow the lid" on Nike at a press conference unless the company paid up to $25 million for him to conduct a probe, plus $1.5 million to his whistleblowing client, youth basketball coach Gary Franklin.

Prosecutors said Avenatti was looking to enrich himself and pay down heavy debts tied to his law firm and a recent divorce.

For his part, Franklin testified that he didn't want an investigation and merely wanted Nike to resume sponsoring his team.

In a 79-page decision, Circuit Judge Reena Raggi said reasonable jurors could find that Avenatti "used a quid pro quo to solicit a bribe from Nike," and "did not reasonably believe that his retainer demand would serve Franklin's interests but, rather, recognized that it served only his own."

Nike has denied wrongdoing.

A federal public defender representing Avenatti did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

Avenatti's career was destroyed after his March 2019 arrest in the Nike case. He was convicted of extortion and honest services fraud and sentenced to 2-1/2 years in prison.

Another 2-1/2 years behind bars were added in June 2022 after Avenatti was convicted of defrauding Daniels out of a book contract.

Fourteen more years were tacked on last December after Avenatti pleaded guilty to cheating four other clients, including a paraplegic, out of millions of dollars.

Avenatti may be eligible for release in January 2036.

The case is U.S. v. Avenatti, 2nd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, No. 21-1778.

#nunyas news #remember when he was talking about running for president #and people were cheering that idea #ya fun times

[pastelemon6w6]

warden Arthur & prison Alfred thots. I mean thoughts. No I don't. Gimme. 💜

>3O💜 under the cut since this'll be a bit long >:3

so the very obvious takes one could make with a prison au is mostly noncon (which is already great to me :} ). rowdy prisoner getting dicked down as a 'punishment' by the sadistic hardass of a guard who fancies him OR the prisoner getting his hands on the guard who's been particularly hard on him and getting some more years added to his sentence for unsavory behaviours :P either way, the top fucking the bottom whenever they find themselves alone. in their cell, in the shower, in a closet, etc. (all noncon up to a point mind you). all good and great especially when they eventually grow to like it >:} that's the best part

I especially like the idea of prisoner Alfred doing time for some kind of white collar scandal and not being at all suited to living around hardened criminals who have murdered and whatnot. he's terrified and keeps to himself, trying to get out early on good behavior. Arthur takes a liking to him because Alfred's too pretty for his own good. Arthur shouldn't fraternize with inmates but it's his prison. he just has to do it with a bit of an angle :> strip-searching Alfred for paraphernalia (maybe with a full cavity search >.> ), calling him in and writing him up (or whatever it is prisons do as warnings idk) for every tiniest infraction just to see Alfred almost cry and letting him off with just a verbal warning to see him happy and hear Alfred thank him like he's god, coughjerkingoffwhilewatchinghimoutintheyardfromthewindowcough.

every other guard and prisoner knows exactly what Arthur's doing but they do and say nothing because they're all just as terrified of him (and he doesn't like a single one of them a fraction as much as he likes Alfred so they'd be fucked to draw attention to themselves). Alfred eventually does something actually bad (idk accidentally hurts/kills someone that tried to screw with him while defending himself) and it's like christmas for Arthur). One(1) blow job to make this all go away >:) Arthur gets a nice tight throat around his cock and the incident is swept under the rug. but suddenly strip/cavity searches aren't so subtle anymore. Arthur conducts them by himself without any of his other guards around and...doesn't use his fingers ;P if Alfred complains or has second thoughts, Arthur only has to give him a look to make him quiet. probably not the best idea for any romance but :v also massive potential for Arthur making Alfred free use to all of his staff ;}

with prison!au though I have some very specific ideas without noncon:

1.) Alfred basically has the whole prison wrapped around his finger by being a massive whore UwU with such a pretty face and big mouth (winkwink), he can get away with anything he wants. warden Arthur being transferred to this new prison so he can shape them the hell up. He sees firsthand how unruly the prisoners and the guards are and sets to make it the best in state. Yes he is a hard ass but he's fair. Prisoners with good behavior are given a little leeway, those that make trouble aren't given a millimeter. He even has the guards taking their jobs more seriously and most things in order. Everyone starts to fall into line. Except the singular bane of his existence ;3 it becomes a game that Arthur thinks he's competing in

i think of your post about sex-kitten Alfred for this U//w//U he wants some cigarettes? I'll trade you a handjob out in courtyard. Wants some snacks from commissary? Blowjob in the showers. Something a little more niche and hard to get like a handheld video game or cellphone? You can come inside if you get it for me by the end of the week. He makes a good business of just being a slut and is pretty damn comfortable for being behind bars. Even the guards were pretty sweet on him for a bit of quid-pro-quo >wO but Arthur comes in and starts fucking his good deal over and Alfred is....not happy

He makes it his goal to become the warden's little 'protected' pet. Any. Means. Necessary.

2.) Basically above ^ but Arthur is very corrupt and biased towards which inmates he likes and doesn't like. Naturally, his favorite is the blue-eyed pretty boy that will bend over upon request for extra time out in the yard or whatever. Think of Alfred draped across Arthur's lap like a villain with their pet cat. Arthur treats him explicitly too and will give him confiscated items to entertain himself with, better meals, and his own cell (better to fuck him where no one else can see >:3 ). They terrorize other inmates and guards because Arthur is untouchable and Alfred can't be touched

#Now I'm done ;w; #That's mostly my thoughts #Usuk #Ukus