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calmthefuckdownalright · 2 years

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"A Fall From Grace" Self-Made Angel AU

A/N: I've had this in my head ever since the Origins SMP came out but I never knew what origin to give the reader. THEN I watched Afterlife SMP on Smajor1995's perspective in which he got the "Angel" Origin on his third (I think) death. I know it's not in the Origins SMP, but I wanted to be original and using the Witch origin was just too common. That and the work it's used in is phenomenal and I can't compete with it. SO! I picked the Angel origin from the Afterlife SMP instead and found it very fitting. I hope you enjoy 😊, it's very long just saying now.

Pairing: C!Phantombur x AngelOrigin!Fem!Reader

Genre: 🍃 angst?,🌷 fluff, 💐 spice {implied. Minors keep back}

AU: Angel (self created), Character plane, Origins SMP

TW: Minor violence and some intense flirting if you catch my drift. Cursing too. Minor mental breakdowns

Trope: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: There's a new Origin in town and the Potion Businessman Wilbur has his eye on a stunning prize. But beware, every rose has its thorns and this pretty flower might as well be a whole bush despite her "angelic" exterior.

Edit: my laptop shot crap on me and I don't have the financial stability or budget to get it fixed or a new one so I'm using my reading Kindle and it doesn't like to format texts...so just use your imagination. 👍

°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•

Welcome to the Origins SMP...you're life on Earth had ended and you have been chosen to join this elaborate group of hybrids. Here's your Origin.

🕊 Angel 🕊

Wings

Levitation

Weaker in other realms (Nether, End, etc.)

When you hit a monster it is set ablaze

Unable to weild a totem of undying

Like your Savior, you are able to walk and run upon water

Any and all debuffs via potions or spells are useless against you (enchantments not included)

Warning: Deviants of the Underworld have also been chosen to walk among you. Be safe.

✨✨A New Origin has Joined the World✨✨

The message was sent out across the entire plane. Every creature set and chosen for this version of Earth received it. Everyone knew you had arrived.

"Be safe. Deviants of the Underworld walk among you."

The warning changed in your head as you opened your eyes to the new world. You looked at your hands in awe at the power that radiated through your muscles. You stood and gazed at the landscape around you. A simple forest under a blue sky.

Something felt odd and you stretched out your arms feeling a tug on your back. You looked and a pair of the purest white feathered wings grew from your shoulder blades. They were stunning and as you stretched them you could hardly believe the length.

You tucked the beautiful wings to your back in fear of drawing attention to yourself in this new place.

'First things first...tools.' You thought and got to work with crafting and managing what little resources you could gather before nightfall. You weren't new to the dynamics of the New Earths. Yet you didn't quite know what you were doing. It was like an unstoppable instinct to just survive.

'Stone stone stone. Mountains would be ideal. I don't have stuff for light just yet and I have a feeling the caves won't be as friendly as the surface.' You debated in your head and began the search.

You managed to slay a few cows and pigs, even make a pair of leather boots to keep your bare feet protected.

The only thing covering your body was a robe. A rather thick one revealing nothing but highlighting the fact you were a woman at the same time.

Maybe a cloak of some kind could be on your priority list as well with the pending decision to seek shelter or get more suitable tools. Shelter seemed like a better option. Especially if these 'deviants' were the kind you thought.

[Time Skip to Nightfall]

You'd been walking for ages trying to find your way out of this stupid forest and night was beginning to fall just as you glimpsed an opening. A valley filled with buildings. One in particular rising above the rest into the sky.

You looked around yourself trying to decide whether or not to tough it out in the wilderness or take your chances on the lit up building.

"Might as well test these babies out." You muttered and stretched your wings.

You jumped off the edge of the hill where the forest lay and struck the feathered appendages down in an effort to lift yourself. It worked as the wind rushed under you and altitude climbed.

You smiled at yourself and flapped the great wings again and again till you were even with the ground of the floating island. You landed with a huff and tucked your already tired wings close to your back.

You could hear voices. Laughter and joyous cries of celebration. For what you couldn't tell. Maybe they were deviants that you'd been warned against. But even if they were, you could easily set them aflame with a single punch. You needed shelter. Suitable food and better clothes.

The wind had flung your thick robe and sent dirt cascading all along it. The white of the fabric was no longer that and rather filthy now.

"Take a chance. It can't be too bad." You said quietly and pushed against the door to the building in the sky. Glittering light poured in it stunned you for a moment. Brighter than the sunlight, or at least more concentrated, blinded you. The voices were continuous as you held the door open and stepped in. Your eyes adjusted rather quickly and you let the door close as you stepped into the place.

It smelled of ale and good spirits. Joy and the promise of laughter. The door slammed as the wind from outside sucked it in and the whole place stopped. Time seemed to freeze as your presence was suddenly acknowledged.

The first to notice you was a fellow winged person. A man dressed in a dark blue ish purple long coat with feathers protruding from his jawline. His wings were a darker grey and his hair a bright goldish blond. He seemed older as imperfections in his skin became more eminent as the light flickered under his dark grey and white striped hat. Crows feet by his eyes and lines etching under them. A light blond stubble etched along his chin and up to the dark feathers of his jaw.

"Well this one's new." A light hearted voice rang out amongst the silence. A smaller man, a boy even, with a pair of goggles on top his head and a fur lined bomber jacket leaned against a counter. Four translucent insect wings sprouted from his back and a black and yellow patch drew your attention to his sleeve where a extremely tall man in a simple suit and long purple tail coat stood beside him.

There was an aura about the tall man that unnerved you. His mismatched eyes and the crown that sat crooked on his head gave off an intimidating glow about him. Especially with the floating purple particles about him.

"Finally another girl!" A muffled voice next to you made you jump in your own skin. A fellow female stood in a tank of water, gills growing from her neck and flashes of pinkish scales reaching down her arms.

"I'm sorry?" A slightly annoying British voice jumped over the air and you spotted a small blonde man, again possibly a boy, with a red sleeved t-shirt and a small pair of red feathered wings, much too downy to be considered real ones, peeked over the head of the winged man who spotted you first.

"Who are you?" The dark winged man in the strange dark attire asked cautiously bit with a light smile.

"Clearly she's the new Origin we heard of a little bit ago." A voice came out of nowhere, behind you, and a shot of adrenaline flashed through your veins as you whirled around and summoned the iron sword you had been able to craft with what little you'd been able to find.

The tip aimed straight towards a partly transparent man's throat. His skin was deathly gray and two bright green eyes shone under the shade of a mess of soft looking brown hair.

Your wings flared out defensively causing wind to fly up with them and send a drink or two crashing to the floor. Fear ran through your blood. The man before you had his arms raised in a mock surrender. His yellow sweater was even transparent, torn and weathered in places to just barely reveal a white undershirt. A white collar poked over the edge of the sweater at his neck.

"Wilbur! What have I said about sneaking up on people?" The older man's voice was stern at the ghostly figure.

"Right right, don't. Yeah I've heard it before Phil. Don't get your feathers in a bunch." The ghost, or Wilbur it seemed, leaned to one side and used a finger to push your sword point down as he outstretched a translucent hand with a sort of halfway bow.

"Wilbur S. Phantom." He said cooly as if he hadn't just scared the shit out of you.

You ignored his hand and began to lower your wings and sword as you looked around.

The tall man in the suit had jumped over the counter and was crouched down behind it while the short boyish one with the translucent wings had begun to sort if float to the roof of the establishment.

"Wil you're just scaring her more." The man with wings, Phil, came over and straightened Wilbur up and pulled him aside.

"Hello, I'm sorry for my son's behavior. I'm Philza Elytrian. This is the Pub." The man with the dark wings said kindly with meaningful smile and an outstretched hand. You sheathed your sword and tucked your wings tightly in again.

"Y/N Angel." You said and glanced over all the other hybrid mutants before you.

"I'm Nikki Merling!" The muffled voice behind the glass said excitedly. Her voice was soft and welcoming now that you fully heard it.

"Hi.." You responded, A smile twitching in the corners of your mouth.

"Of course you've met Wilbur. He's a Phantom and tends to abuse his abilities to phase through walls. He's our Potions guy since he can gather ingredients undetected. And my son." Phil began to introduce everyone individually starting with a very sparkly man with stars for limbs it seemed.

"Scott Starborne. He's basically a God so mind not to piss him off or he might explode you."

"Jack Manifold Blazeborne. Immune to heat and a native to the Nether."

"This is Tommy Avian. He's my youngest son and my apprentice since his wings have still not fully grown in." Tommy shook your hand and the downy red wings on his back attempted to stretch out but it only made them curl back tighter. "We think something went wrong with his genetic make-up." Phil whispered to you.

You nodded and smiled at the Avian briefly before meeting the rest of the crew.

"Tubbo Bumblebee. Can float around, poison in his fingers, and is sort of like a flourist around here."

"This is Ranboo Enderian. Enderman abilities combined with his abnormally natural height. He's a good guy to have in your corner."

"Jschlatt Arachnid though most call him-"

"The Fragrance Man. Pleasure to meet you Angel." The Fragrance Man bowed with a smile and the pungent smell of him hit you like a train.

"Please don't call me that." You said with a cringe.

"Moving on," Philza said quickly and lead you to a seemingly empty corner. Then you looked down.

"That's Charlie Slimecician, he's basically a slime but half human. He gets small after a few hits." A blobby green figure stood at the height of you ankles and waved.

"And that's Sneegsnag Inchling. We just call him Sneeg. He's super small and likes to climb on people so watch out if you ever go to fly. You might have a hitchhiker."

"It was one time Phil. Get over it!" Sneeg called up to the much taller Elytrian. No doubt having experienced this 'hitchhiking.'

"Fundy and Technoblade aren't here right now but Fundy's basically just a fox and Techno looks like a pig but was given the Rabbit Origin. You'll know them when you see em." Philza turned back to you and you looked around again.

"Do you maybe have anything for clothing? I don't think this thing is going to last with my flying." You asked sheepishly and gestured to the already tattering robe.

"Ummm..." Phil's face flushed slightly and he glanced around. "Maybe Nikki does? She's more you're speed." He led you to the tank with the Merling. Nikki smiled and nodded.

"It's been so long since another girl was around!" She smiled widely.

Maybe this new plane of existence wasnt going to be so dangerous after all...

[Time Skip to a few Days Later]

Since meeting the Origins you hadn't had much going on. Nikki helped you with clothes, lending you several pairs of leather pants and a few linen shirts that fit fairly well. She never wore them because they weren't waterproof and mostly used them when it rained and she wanted to go walking. Which was hardly ever.

Rain wasnt 'rare' in the valley of The Pub (which you later learned had been renamed The Pube with a 'silent' e by one Wilbur S. Phantom.) But she hadn't wanted to go walking ever. The rain was so exciting that she never thought about it.

"So have you thought of where to build your house?" Nikki asked, her head bobbing in and out of the water cautiously.

"No not really. I found a cave up in the mountains but it's a bit far. Thinking about building right here by the lake but my neighbors aren't very appealing." You grimaced as you spotted the Phantom of the land. He was sitting under a tree with a brewing stand beside him and a book and quill in his hands. His translucent body sent a shiver up your spine as you redirected your attention back to your friend in the water.

"Wil really isn't that bad. He's just a flirty dumbass. He's quite nice really." Nikki assured you and traced shaped in the dampened grass by your boots. Your feet rested in the cool water of the lake with your leather pants rolled up halfway to your knees as the water ran over the bare skin.

"He's still creepy." You said and stretched out your wings as the sun warmed the white feathers.

"It's just cause he's a ghost. I'm telling you, he's nice." Nikki insisted. Her voice was sorrowful as she mentioned the word 'ghost.'

"How is he even Phil's son? He doesn't even have wings." You asked and began to run your fingers down the soft feathers of your wings.

"Well...that's more something to ask him really. It's not my story to tell." Nikki said and ducked under the water, leaving you impromptu to regain her ability to breathe.

"Alright then..." You sighed. Your curiosity tugged at your gut and a bold motive pumped through your heart. While Nikki composed herself you might as well start branching out. Its not like you can stay friends with one person forever.

You huffed and grabbed your boots and started walking across the grass towards the phantom man.

"Well hello. Come to tell me I'm creepy to my face?" Wilbur asked with a sly smile as you approached, not bothering to look up.

"You heard us?" You asked, a wave of embarrassment washing over you.

"No, I read lips." Wilbur said and looked up at you at last. The green of his eyes were stunning without the rushes of adrenaline finding them dangerous. He'd been sneaking up on you for the past few days, earning multiple swords swung at his head. All of them careful not to actually cut the poor man.

"Hmph. Well I actually came over to say I'm sorry for swinging blades at you and ask you a question but since you're clearly busy I'll leave you be." You said and started to walk off.

"Wait!" Wilbur shot to his feet and reached for your arm as you walked into the sunlight. Flames erupted on his skin and began to consume him.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCKER SHIT!" Wilbur exclaimed and leapt into the lake with a surprisingly graceful dive. Steam billowed off the water's surface as you turned around at the noise.

"Wilbur?" You asked to the air. The smell of smoke tinged your nose. "Oh shit you're a phantom!" The realization hit you.

"Yeah no shit." He said as his head resurfaced, water dripping from the brown mess on his head and down his face. "I was just trying to stop you, Jesus Christ." He muttered and climbed out the water, shaking out his head as the shade of a tree cast over him, preventing him from burning again.

"Why?" You asked with a desire to laugh. How could he forget he burned in daylight so easy?

"Because, like you, I'm a curious nobody who wants to know things. So what-" Wilbur paused as he spotted your face. "Are you...are you laughing at me?" He said with a darkening tone.

"Maybe a little." You snickered. Your wings trailed the ground and twitched with amusement.

"Oh hush it you sunloving bitch! I didn't exactly ask for it." Wilbur held a smile of his own back at your childish attempts to not mock him.

"So sorry Danny Phantom, I just think the fact you don't even understand your own abilities is quite hilarious." You sniffed back a laugh and wiped your eyes.

"You're one to talk. You can hardly fly properly." Wilbur shot back, a conniving smile playing his translucent lips, his arms crossing over his chest.

"And what would you know about flying?" You set your hands on your hips, flaring your snowy white wings out slightly as the sun basked over your features.

"Enough to know you flap too hard and too often. Enough to know you should let the wind carry you rather than your own feathers or you'll tire the muscles out before you can ever find a decent landing spot." Wilbur leaned against the oak tree causing his shade.

You fumed as you recalled the many landings you'd had to take. The aching of your wings every night when you went to sleep.

"Yeah? And how do you know this?" You crossed your arms.

"Because, Angel Darling, I used to fly." Wilbur pushed off the tree and snapped his fingers as he walked to the edge of the shade. Just where the border of the sunlight stopped.

With the snap of his fingers a pair of mangled and tattered wings the color of Phil's feathers protruded from the Phantom's back. Bones stuck out of the tips and a bat like skin had been stretched over the limbs, bone poking through at odd angles.

"They don't work anymore sadly, but they were beautiful back in my prime. Now they're just a decoration that gets caught on branches." Wilbur ran a ghostly hand down one of the wings, its stillness bothered you. Usually wings would twitch or flex at the touch of rather anything. Even Tommy's faulty wings stretched or curled each time a branch or shoulder grazed them.

"Wilbur, I'm sorry." You said after a moment of marveling at the damage. "What happened?" You asked cautiously, reaching out a hand into his shade.

Wilbur quickly made the wings disappear with a roll of his shoulders.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Only Phil and Tommy are allowed to know my 'tragedy', as people call it. Family only, if you understand." Wilbur smirked and ran a hand through his brown hair.

"Anyone else who knows has sworn to never tell a soul and anyone who does say will be severely punished." Wilbur growled and your hand retreated. If he wanted to be a prick when you were only wanting an answer then fine. Two can play that game.

"Awww, is the little Potions master embarrassed of his fall from grace?" You mocked with a glare. "A simple 'A bad accident' would've sufficed asshole." You flared your wings to leap off. Wilbur's eyes darkened as a scowl etched his translucent features.

"You're pretty prickly yourself for such a pretty Angel." Wilbur sneered.

"Whoever said all Angels were nice Ghost Boy?" You snarled and beat your wings and leapt into the sky sending wind blowing the leaves of the tree he sheltered under askew and releasing the sunlight upon him once more. You beat your wings proudly as you flew off listening to the string of curses flowing from the burned ghost's lips behind you.

[Several Days Later]

You hadn't run into Wilbur again since you burned him. You'd spent the last few days gathering wood from various trees and taking flying lessons from Phil who's wingspan was similar to your own. Yours being slightly larger "due to your youth." As Phil told you.

It was going wonderfully. You'd been able to gather enough iron to make yourself a chestplate with the guidance of Jack who knew a thing or two about molten stuff. You paid him in a few nuggets of gold and a new flint and steel, should he get trapped in his homeland ever.

Nikki had helped you start building by the lake, on the exact opposite side of Wilbur, and even connected her little underwater cavern to a tank in your house.

Not only had you not run into the ghostly man, but you hadn't even seen the translucent nuisance. It was unnervingly quiet at the lake and maybe he just stopped going out in the day. He did catch fire at even the smallest ray of sunlight so it wouldn't entirely surprise you that the man was keeping to the covers of night.

Tonight however, so we're you. You needed bones for bone meal for your farm so you could feed your cows and make some bread for yourself.

The moon was full and fog had rolled in on the valley of The Pub. You had gone far away from where the lights of the settlements glowed and only had the light of the moon to guide your feet as you listened for the rattling of bones or the string of a bow being stretched.

Courtesy of The Fragrance Man, you wielded a diamond sword. You'd crafted it yourself but the enchantments laid on its blade were all the Arachnid's doing.

Heat radiated off the sword and a glimmer of a protective shield was cast over the diamond weapon. It was supposed to set fire to anything it touched, much like your own fists could with a punch, and it was spelled to be practically unbreakable. In exchange for a favor in the future, the sword was all yours for as long as you wanted it.

The Fragrance Man had denied calling you by your name and still settled for just calling you 'Angel.' The man was a priest, sort of, so you didn't really worry too much about it. He might be creepy but you could set fire to anything you punched. That made you dangerous and him susceptible to your attacks if he crossed the line.

So, with your new sword and chest plate, you set off into the night in search of the undead. You had succeeded as a rattle echoed off in the distance and you shot towards it in a flurry of quick jabs and slices while ducking from arrows. It wasn't long before the skeletons fell and you could collect their cargo.

With a few skeletons gone you decided to head back to your home by the lake. Then the screams of frustration reached you. You were slightly conflicted to help.

The only people crazy enough to get cornered by a horde weren't ones you necessarily liked. But you had time and a weapon fully capable of helping. Not to mention some badass wings to knock a few skulls around with.

"Fine fine. Let's go be a hero I guess." You muttered and leaped into the air with a blow of your wings. You soared high above the fading fog as you got closer to the end of the valley and peered down to the ground with the little light you could use from the moon. You couldn't hardly see the figure surrounded by the monsters but you could hear them.

"You idiotic assholes just get back! Where the fucking Hell are you all coming from?!" The frustrated voice screamed into the night. You smelled bread and spotted a helmet of iron as you swooped down cautiously.

"Phil?" The helmet looked up as your winged shadow cast over them from the moonlight. That's when you realized who you were saving.

"Far from it Ghost Boy." You glared and dived down with your sword swinging flames upon the monsters of the night. "I'm better."

Wilbur scoffed and straightened his helmet and fought the deviants of the night at your back, skillfully ducking under your wings as you threw monsters away where your sword could not reach.

Wilbur's silence as he fought with his own weapon, an iron sword with more than a few cracks, was amazing. Not so much as a grunt escaped him as he swung with effortless movements. Before long dawn was rising and the sky helped vanquish the horde.

Wilbur was quick to send himself invisible once the sun rose though you could still see him due to the helmet on his head and the bread vanishing down what must have been his mouth.

You acted out of mercy and drew your wings over his back and head as the sun climbed up the sky. "Relax Mr. Invisible. You've been through enough tonight." You muttered as he flinched under your shading feathers.

"And what's with the change of heart? Deciding to be a good girl for once?" Wilbur teased with a menacing smile as he changed back to his translucent form.

"I don't know, would you like to burn all the way home?" You narrowed your eyes with a challenge. Wilbur stuffed the last bit of bread in his mouth in a silent no.

The two of you walked in silence back to the lake, you lowering your wings as you opted for a forest edge as soon as one was available. Wilbur 'ghosted' from tree shade to tree shade while you stayed in the sunlight of the valley. When the Pub's settlements were close enough Wilbur stopped, stopping you with him out of quiet surprise.

"Why did you help me?" He asked suddenly.

"Why shouldn't I have?" You countered.

"Whatever happened to 'Not all Angels are nice.'?"

"Never said I wasn't. You'd just pissed me off."

"Because I didn't answer your question?" Wilbur scoffed with a slight of sarcasm.

"Because you were an ass about it. I get it, I'm new. I don't know anything about anyone. Especially you. Especially when you avoid and dodge every attempt I make at getting to know you or being an ass about it and starting an argument." You crossed your arms and tucked in your wings frustratedly.

"It's called flirting, Darling Angel." Wilbur leaned against a tree and removed his helmet to allow a plethora of brown curly hair to fall across his emerald eyes.

"You suck at it Wilbur Soot." You snickered and slipped under a tree yourself as the sun beat down in an unrelenting heat. "And please don't call me Angel. The Fragrance Man does that enough as it is." You huffed with an easy smile.

"Schlatt? Seriously? That's who you're worried about? I can literally phase through walls undetected. I could've been following you all these days watching you bathe or something." Wilbur snickered.

"That's perverted Wilbur." You screwed up your face and suddenly felt very self conscious.

"I said I could. But I would never because you're right. That is perverted and I'm not an abuser of my abilities much to you and my father's beliefs." Wilbur insisted "Believe it or not I'm a rather good gentleman." Wilbur said with a joking smile. You snickered quietly.

"Right right. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say I believe you. I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable on my own again, thanks Wil." You say with a snap of venom. What would one of your conversations be without a little poison.

"There's no wall you can hide behind, Y/N. I can forever find you." Wilbur's voice echoed like it wasnt actually there. You stared at him but his lips didn't move to match the words you heard.

"What?" You asked, placing a hand on your belt where the sword sheath and sword from The Fragrance Man was attached.

"I said, that wasn't my intentions. I said I was sorry." Wilbur phased his way through the narrow chain of sunlight between the two trees you stood under and was soon placing a chilled hand on your forehead much to your very notable surprise. "Are you alright Ang- Y/N? You're sweating like Ranboo in a storm." Wilbur joked with a smile, quickly correcting himself from the uncanny nickname.

What was he always smiling for? He was a ghost with a supposedly 'tragic' demise. He was dead. He was regarded with caution anywhere he went. His potions business was a scam and a half and his cheeky comments and demeanour had no doubt gotten him into many instances of making enemies. What did this man have to smile about so often for?

"I have family and friends, Y/N. That's why I smile. I'm dead but I can still be with them and they know I am." Wilbur answered. You hadn't realized you'd said the first of your thought out loud. Or that you were sitting now. The heat from the sun on your iron chest plate was suffocating. Not to mention it was tight inside of it from moving as much while fighting through the night and hardly any at all during the walk. Your wings dropped to the ground and for once they felt like the heaviest things on this plane of existence.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Wilbur's voice was edging on concern. His hands were freezing on your overheating skin. Skin. Where was he touching you? You squeezed your eyes shut and concentrated. Your hand was under one of his, and his other was holding your face as sweat seeped from your boiling skin.

"The chestplate." You huffed and pulled at the collar of it reaching frantically for the leather straps holding to your body on your sides. Your, now shaking, fingers fumbled with the leather on one side. By the time you'd gotten one undone Wilbur had managed to get the two on the other side. He quickly undid the last strap and the chest plate was heaved off your shoulders by Wilbur, careful not to crush your wings.

"Better?" He asked, his hand still resting on your hand. Grasping it even.

You nodded and flipped your palm to grip his. "Just give me a second and I'll be fine." You huffed and closed your eyes tightly. Breathing in and out and focusing on the coolness of Wilbur's hand.

The heat calmed in your skin until the sweating stopped. You opened your eyes after a moment or two to see Wilbur staring at you with those vibrant eyes.

"What? Have I got a cut?" You asked and reached your free hand to your face. Before you could check yourself Wilbur was holding up your connected hands. That's when you realized.

"Oh shit I'm so-" you started to unravel your fingers from his in a rush. Your wings flared as cold spread through your still heated face. A softness enveloped your lips as you gathered what was happening.

Wilbur's eyes were shut as his face pressed to yours. It was an odd feeling, being kissed by a ghost.

You eventually just shut your eyes too, embracing the action with the little hesitation, pressing back to the cold lips. Wilbur's hand tightened on yours and his other translucent limb reached to your wings, caressing the feathers softly and causing a shudder up your spine.

Wilbur let you breathe for a moment from his impromptu kiss before removing his hand from yours in the grass and lifting your chin to fully face him.

"Is this okay with you?" He asked, his voice shaky and unknowing. Surprisingly something inside you lit up at the question. He'd caught you off gaurd in a vulnerable state from the overheating. Managed to cool you down and was still asking if you were okay.

"Yeah..." You breathed and Wilbur leaned over your body against the tree, trailing a cold ghostly hand up your white wings earning a small gasp before gently reconnecting your lips. He was curious as his hand explored the feathers, each small movement making them twitch and relax under his translucent fingers.

Each flinch of your feathers parted your mouth a little at a time before it was too tempting to explore. Wilbur's tongue was so cold it was like having an ice cube numb your mouth. It was...different. You hadn't kissed anyone since coming into this world and this was one Hell of a first.

Wilbur's hand on your chin trailed up your jawline and reached into your hair, massaging and playing with your scalp and causing an intense cold to spread over you and numb your senses almost completely. His hand on your wings traveled closer to your back where the skin and downy feathers met your shoulder blades. The holes you'd cut into your linen shirts had been a tad big but it just made it easier to fly.

"Wilbur, what're you doing?" You breathed out as he drew away for you to breathe. He didn't need to being dead and all.

"I-" He looked into your hooded eyes and his hand drew away from your back, the one exploring your hair stopping its soft movements. There was a rustling behind him and before either of you could react someone burst through the bushes.

"Jesus mother of Christ foliage is thick as fuck." Tommy's bright accent busted the tension between you and Wilbur and neither of you could move as the small winged man spotted you. You sat with your back to a tree and Wilbur, Tommy's older brother, hovering over you incredibly close with your chest plate thrown aside.

"Tommy! It's not was it looks-" Wilbur started to rush out and leapt to his feet to reach his brother who was frozen in place.

"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" The Avian yelled out and both you and Wilbur flinched.

"Y/N that's my fucking brother what the fuck?! Nikki's been lookin for you and you're out here catching the birds and the bees with my-" Tommy started into a compulsive and loud rant before Wilbur phased under the sunlight and placed an invisible hand over his mouth, reducing it to muffled yells. Tommy pulled away with a disgusted tone of voice.

"Don't fucking touch my face you fucker, I don't know where those hands have been." Tommy gagged at the thought and your face turned a fiery red, the heat returning but this time manageable against your slightly numb skin where Wilbur had touched and kissed you.

"Tommy I swear, I just got overheated and he helped me get the chest plate off that's all!" You rushed to help explain. You couldn't see Wilbur or feel his presence. Did that asshole just leave you to deal with his slightly traumatized brother?!

The anger you'd previously held over and dissipated for the ghostly businessmen returned in full force.

"That-" Tommy started but you cut him off in a stern voice, one built up with anger at Wilbur. Anger that kept rising. After what he'd just done the guy was just gonna skip out on you because someone caught him doing something embarrassing?!

"Tommy just shut it. He helped me get a chestplate off after I got too hot. That's it and for you to think otherwise is foolish. Your brother and me aren't even friends." You spat and went to go retrieve your armor piece.

Tommy stayed silent as you stood straight up and took a deep breath. A chill went through your chest as you felt a pair of eyes watching. These not the unbelieving ones of Tommy, but ones of hurt and slight hatred that couldn't be seen.

'Stop it Wilbur. You know it can't happen.' You shot towards the ripple of light as grass swished under invisible feet. It was a mistake helping him as much as you did. A mistake letting him kiss you.

At the end of the day he was just a flirty asshole who couldn't help but only think of himself. He was a scammer. A coward. The exact opposite of what you would ever want. A businessman of zero shame.

"Do you want a fly home?" You turned back to Tommy with a flare of your large wings.

"No. No I'm out looking for sugarcane." He said, his eyes still slightly in shock at what he had witnessed.

"Right then. Tell Phil I said hi." You muttered and shouldered past the small boy, careful not to hit him with your wings and you reached a sunny clearing in the trees. You waited till Tommy had walked away into the forest before you wrapped yourself in your wings and let a few hot tears run down your freezing cheeks.

"stupid stupid stupid." You heaved out over a choked sob. You could feel his presence lingering around you. Wilbur was still around. Still watching you as you broke down. You were an idiot for believing he could actually be nice.

"Get over it now, Y/N. He's the worst deviant you'll run across." You utter loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear. 'Anyone' being Wilbur. You heard a branch crack and a bush shift as something unseen walked into it. Then you spread your wings and leapt into the sky, careful not to beat too hard and exhaust your energy too soon.

"Wait!" You heard him below you. You could see his ghostly figure clearly in your mind reaching out to the sky though he would surely be invisible from the sunlight.

You soared up above the clouds and let the tears rain down freely. What the Hell was wrong with you?! The guy had been nothing but a creep since your first day here and you just let him kiss you! Let him touch your wings like they were his own. God you felt so stupid. And poor Tommy, he had to see it. Or the end of it at least.

Your mind slowly began to thaw from Wilbur's icy touch. That must've been what caused your submission. The cold that emanated from even the slightly touch from him. Hell knowing him he probably did it on purpose.

Figured out from eavesdropping on you telling Nikki you'd be going out tonight. He probably got himself cornered by monsters on his own and lured you there knowing you'd help. Then he'd get you alone in the forest and take advantage of you with the numbing of the cold he inflicted.

It made your blood boil deep in your chest at the thought. Wilbur Soot would pay for his intentions. Good or not he left you to deal with HIS family. The one he claimed was the reason he could still smile after everything that happened to him.

Curse to his handsome face. To his soft skin. His beautiful and dorky smile. Curse to his swagger in every word. That accent that could make the coldest heart melt. The charm woven into that silver tongue of his. That tongue. To Hell with that tongue.

{LET THE WARS BEGIN}

🕊💀🕊💀🕊💀 [Time Summary of Several Months]🕊💀🕊💀🕊💀

Catalog of the Burning Wars, written by Philza Elytrian

The first attack: Y/N Angel set fire to the trees surrounding Wilbur S. Phantom's home removing all shade from his land for several blocks. She has also drained his side of the lake with the permission of Nikki Merling in agreement to link the lake to a river system going all across the lands of The Pub.

The retaliation: Wilbur S. Soot in retaliation destroyed an upcoming crop field in the process of growing from Y/N Angel.

The Declaration of War: Y/N Angel announced at The Pub on August 9th that Wilbur Soot Phantom was now her enemy and anyone who got in her way of 'making that piece of shit' pay would be as well.

The Accused: As claimed by Wilbur, he hadn't heard of her declaration of war. Merely assuming that the burning and draining of his land was a minor upsetting and his retaliation was to be the end of their feud. He has since not discussed any details of the newly declared war.

The Attacker: Y/N Angel has only disclosed that Wilbur has shamed her in an unforgivable way. She claims her takes on friendship with the Potions Businessman had been rebuked with a key try in taking advantage of her new presence to this world. Y/N has quoted

"Wilbur Soot might be a gentleman to his friends, but to me he is merely a fiend and a deviant that has wronged me in more ways than one. I will no longer tolerate his creeping of my person or the advances he seems to wish to make."

Over the course of the ongoing war, now named The Burning War after the intense use of fire from both sides, multiple scrimmages between the two parties have occurred. All of which taking place in a forest or plain far from the Pub as both parties have agreed;

"Our fighting is amongst the two of us and no one else should pay for our anger towards each other."

Signed,

Philza Elytrian, Scribe of The Burning Wars 💀🕊💀🕊💀🕊[End of Time Summary]💀🕊💀🕊💀🕊

It'd been months. Nearly a year since you declared war on Wilbur and he was no closer to admitting he had done wrong. Over the many negotiations held between the two of you nothing came of it.

Wilbur merely yelled he didn't know what he'd done and therefore had nothing to apologize for. You being the stubborn woman you were, time and time again explained it to him. How he left you to take care of his problems. Their problems. How he vanished on you the second things got a little uncomfortable then tried to play it off like you were the one at fault for it.

You hadn't shared your theory on his intentions that day. His theoried plan you had formed on the fly back home.

How could you? You weren't dumb, you knew it was only an assumption your angered mind had formed. Knew that if you said it and it was false your shame would kill you. Yet you couldn't think of another way to tell him you thought he was a creep when the only 'proof' you had of this claim was that he scared you every once in a while from passing through a wall to jumpscare you.

And now you were back here. In the Pub. Your neutral ground. You'd told Phil, the common ground and mediator between the two of you and Wilbur. As usual Phil told everyone to avoid the place but you knew they were closeby. Sneeg would be hiding behind the bottles of alcohol stacked on a shelf or Tommy perched on top the Pub with Tubbo. Ranboo maybe if he could get a pearl high enough. Jack might be hiding in his little lava hole listening in on rare occasion.

This didn't stop you from trying to negotiate with Wilbur in terms of ending this war. You didn't even know what you wanted from him. A surrender and an apology seemed like the best solution but you knew deep down it wouldn't be enough. He would continually piss you off on purpose. He would dig at you till you cracked and sent an arrow flying at his head or a wing swinging straight into his translucent chest.

Much to your delight, Wilbur was solid as a rock when not in his phantom state. Anything could hurt him just as it could a regular human. You didn't want to kill the man no. You were angry but not that angry. No matter what you did you couldn't wipe that smug smile off his face every time he riled you up.

You clenched your fist now as he walked in. For once he used the doors of The Pub. You sat at a table with your wings brought high up and tucked in tight. The dumbass was eating an apple and each step he took closer to you highlighted a new accessory to his outfit.

A slim fitting tail coat the color of the darkest blue fit snuggly over a blue and lime striped vest and reached down a pair of equally dark blue slacks with a perfect crease down the middle. He wore a circular pair of glasses slightly tinted over his stunning green eyes. Bone shaped clasps reached across the seam of his vest and black slick shoes rested and tapped the wood floor on his fading feet. His hair was combed out but as unruly as ever as it curled over one of his eyes slightly.

He took a large bite of his apple, never breaking eye contact with you as he pulled out the chair across from you, then threw it in your direction. To which you caught it.

"Y'know I had a great deal comin' up for today. Schlatt was gonna buy my whole stock for ten stacks of gold blocks and a half a stack of diamonds. Technoblade would've gladly taken the gold and traded me a stack of diamonds or even some Netherite ingots for each block." The man leaned back and set his ghostly fading feet on the wooden table.

"Your stock is just potions of leaping and some fire res mixed in wth exactly two potions of regeneration." You pointed out. "You and Ranboo literally had to scam Tommy into drinking one you were so much of a failure."

"Yet who's wearing the tailored suit here?" Wilbur examined his fingers before turning back to you with a smug grin.

You scowled at him, debating your response. "The coward and the joke of this negotiation." You spat after a second of letting him think he won. At your words, Wilbur's smile twitched and he swiftly swung his lanky legs off the table and leaned forward, his hands grasped together under his chest as his face reached near the middle of the table.

"And what have I done right or wrong now to deserve such a merciful meeting Angel Darling?" The man said with a venom of sarcasm escaping his silver tongue. Your blood began to boil.

"Absolutely nothing. You don't deserve my mercy Wilbur Soot but here I am offering it." You leaned towards him as well letting your wings cast a shadow over the two of you from one of the lanterns above.

"I don't even know what I could've done wrong to even need your 'mercy.'" Wilbur said and those green eyes of his darted across your face.

"For starters you burnt down my wheat field." You said.

"You burnt my trees. And drained the water from my land." He countered.

"You were a prick and I wasn't going to deal with it any longer." You spat back.

"And how could I have offended you so badly that it warranted so much ash on my land?" He asked, knowing full well your answer.

"Tommy. That day in the forest. You GHOSTED me Wilbur!" You stood from your chair with a bang of your fist. You were tired of repeating this story. "You let me deal with a problem that was OURS by myself with someone who YOU knew how to handle! The boy still doesn't look at me correctly Wil! He thinks I'm some manipulate bitch who tried to get with his brother and cover up for it!" You yelled. This one was new. You hadn't told Wilbur about Tommy being reclusive around you. How he never met your eyes or returned your greetings. How the boy would simply just turn away from you and run or pretend he was busy.

"Angel-" Wilbur was on his feet now and standing before you with a pleading look. The nickname sent you spiraling till that final cord of restraint snapped.

"That's NOT MY FUCKING NAME!" You yelled and grabbed the man by his suit and burst the two of you to the balcony of The Pub. With a single arm you held Wilbur's writhing body over the edge. You'd learnt to organize your negotiations meeting at sunset or dusk in case something like this happened. Which it usually did but never at this magnitude. You'd never lost control like this.

Your wings were flared and tensed, your arm, stiff, at Wilbur's neck as you held him dangling over the edge from a VERY dangerous height. He choked as you tightened your grip. (Which was odd considering he didn't need air to breathe...)

You flinched at his noise. He didn't breathe air. You were actually causing damage. Possibly permanent if you didn't let go. So you stumbled back and released him on the wood of The Pub. You fell onto the ground and quickly cocooned yourself inside your own wings and held you head as the terror of permanently hurting someone sunk in. Hurting Wilbur.

All of this. This war. It was pointless. It was just YOUR anger. You were the only one angry in this battle. Wilbur hadn't DONE anything. Just being a prick but nothing worth lashing out the way you had. Tears streamed down your face and sobs wrecked your throat as you realized the purpose of this war.

The dumbass had stolen your heart. He'd charmed his way into it with each negotiation. Each smug remark and sly smile. Every wink and quip that would've made you roll over laughing had you not been so angry. This frustration you'd felt with every interaction with the ghostly man wasn't out of anger or rage from him dumping you with Tommy, though you were still pretty mad about that. It was from the fact you couldn't help but smile at his words after you were done fighting and you were alone. How you dreamt of being on peaceful terms and enjoying his company more than hating it.

Good God....you were in love with him. Obsessed with him even. He haunted your dreams in a way you didn't know anyone could. His words rang in your head with every movement of your body.

'It's called flirting, Darling Angel.'

'Y/N? What's wrong?'

Every small interaction when you hadn't been fighting was some of your favorite memories. God you'd messed everything up. He probably hated you. No. It was definite he did. You nearly just dropped him off a floating island over a small quarrel that could've been solved from maybe a small amount of yelling and an apology.

Something touched you. Something freezing cold but welcoming with the gentleness of its caress. Your feathers twitched involuntarily under that icy glance of contact. They relaxed and your body betrayed your want to be alone as one of your wings relaxed and allowed itself to be moved enough for Wilbur to poke his translucent body into your feathery cage.

You accustomed your 'cage' to shelter both of you as you wiped your face. The tears of knowing the man you possibly loved would surely hate you.

Wilbur had removed his glasses and coat. A long white sleeved collared shirt ran down his arms though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing the pale ish grey of his arms. And the scars. God the amount of scars on his arms was frightening but you could hardly react as more tears, hot with embarrassment, flooded your vision.

"Y/N...I'm sorry for what I did to hurt you. God I never thought it would go this far." Wilbur's gentle voice was like a melody to your ears. Euphoric and angelic. The apology soothed your anger enough for you to finally be able to focus on composing yourself.

"Wilbur I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have-" You started but felt a chill run down you as something cold was once again your tear stained lips.

Wilbur. Wilbur was that 'something' and it was a blessing. You didn't waste anytime returning the favor. His tongue was quicker to break past your defenses and soon it was numb again inside your mouth. Just like it was that day in the woods, except this time no one would interrupt you and anyone watching or listening wouldn't have a single thing as your wings hid the two of you from the world. Wilbur pulled away and cast a gentle touch up your face till he was cupping your cheek.

"Y/N, I never want you to apologize to me again. I did this. I caused you to lash out because I wanted your attention. I wanted you to look at me like you do Nikki. But more. I wanted to be more than your friend and I started my goal the only way I knew how. Provoking you until I was your main focus." Wilbur panted as he looked into your eyes. Those green irises practically glowing under the amount of emotion swimming in them.

"I can only pray that you forgive me. Forgive me for every wrong I've done and let me fix it. Allow me to make it up to you." He begged with a crack of his voice and you couldn't help but smile.

"Wilbur Soot...you are the single most aggravating man I've ever had the luck of meeting." You said through tears and pulled his collar towards you and kissed him hard.

This time you were going to surprise him. As soon as you felt his mouth part you sent in your tongue against his.

A gasp from him into your mouth sent your head reeling as you tugged at his vest and his hands ran through your hair.

The chill exploded a new kind of warmth through you and you smiled against the lips of the coldest man you knew.

"Angel, I love you." Wilbur said as you broke the kiss for a breath of air.

"I love you too Ghost Boy." You panted out and smiled as he kissed you again. Not the kind of comfort as before. But the one of a man who missed you. You. Not his enemy on the battlefield but you. The angel crying before the ghost. The kiss lingered and you felt something change.

You grabbed Wilbur's hands and lead him to the ledge you'd nearly dropped him off of before jumping with him before he had a chance to even register what was happening. With a smile you pulled him close with a kiss of your own and stretched your wings out, letting the wind lift you up and soar the two of you to a forest. The one where all your battles were waged.

And the one where the final negotiation of surrender would end without anyone to see the declaration of The Burning Wars coming to a close and you finally opening to Wilbur S. Phantom in more ways than one and him doing the same.

{Epilogue}

A few years passed and Wilbur had finally answered all your questions about him. His accident that cost him his wings and everything you might need to know about phantoms. His favorite food happened to be bread since it was easy and very relaxing to make on days he wasn't busy getting potion ingredients.

Which he also changed up. You become his partner at the Potion shop which was quickly renamed Fallen Angel Potions after the fact of Wilbur's accident and your origin.

The Fragrance Man was returned his sword after it was cut down to very poor conditions seeing as he was officially top of your creep list and owing him a favor was not on your bucket list.

It was nice. Blissful having Wilbur by your side. It was a marvel that the two of you had ever fought considered how close you were now. The old battlefield had flourished and was now overgrown save for a small patch in the middle which had been flattened by multiple rendezvous after work or just in your free time with Wilbur.

His trees were replanted and the lake basically turned into a whole wheat field around the trees of his dark 'mansion' and your birch cottage.

After a while, Philza Elytrian earned a daughter-in-law and Tommy Avian grew out his wings large enough to be able to glide into the ceremony as Wilbur's best man. Peace at last.

"I love you Angel."

"I love you too Ghost Boy."

°~•°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°•~°~•

Ho. Ly. SHIT. This is the single longest one shot I've ever done on any platform and on any account. It got so cringe in the ending I'm sorry. I just wanted to get it over with I was so close.

Honestly I was gonna make it multiple parts but I've already got another fic lined up for a part 2 so I didn't want to do that and multi task. Its shitty at some parts I know but those parts are a LOT better than the original bits that were there.

It's slightly edited as I had to keep reading it to see where the fuck I was going with it most the time. I really enjoyed writing in Philza because what's a Wilbur Soot fic without a good Dadza?

Right then, watch out for my next piece. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you shitwads later! Love ya, I do I promise! 💙💙

#osmp #origins smp #c!phantombur #C!Wilbur soot x reader #Fem!Reader #minors dni #Tw: Implied 18+#tw: violence #angst #enemies to lovers #origins smp wilbur #c!wilbur soot #phantombur #wilbur soot #c!Phantombur x reader

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sasuhinasno1fan · 10 months

Text

Wish come true - Adrien AUGreste Day 18+19

I imagined this one going slightly different but it ended the same, Adrien's Italian anger coming out in defense of the people he loves. Another thank you to @etherealxgenie for betaing. Masks

Adrien was still reeling from what happened earlier. He’d immediately gone to the Liberty after they left and they had to video chat Ivan and Rose – who surprisingly was home – to tell them the news. If he thought they were excited, Anarka was even more so. She might not like Jagged Stone but she was more than willing to cause trouble for Bob Roth. Adrien just hoped Juleka and Luka recorded when the two finally met.

He was typing out an email to his dad, bursting with excitement when he heard the front door open. He dropped his laptop to the side and climbed down his bed, running to the front door.

“Mama, Mama, you’re never going to believe what just happened! I got to meet – oh. I didn’t know we had a guest coming over.” behind his mother was an older gentleman. Compared to his father’s own style of suits, this man looked like a stereotypical high-profile lawyer, with his pressed suit and squirmy looking face.

“Adrien, I don’t know if you remember Signor St Claire? You went to school with his daughter Elizabeth in New York?”

Elizabeth? Then Adrien remembered. “Betty St Claire. Class president and president of the cultural society.”

“That’s my girl!”

And also, the most spoiled brat in the whole school. She was like Lila in terms of annoyance and Chloe, pre-change, in terms of behavior. She constantly insulted those she thought was beneath her, acting like her behavior was completely acceptable. Most of the students hated her, but because her father was a diplomat who was well known to be connected with politicians and the current president – who happened to also be a superhero – they would bend to her will. Adrien never had to, except when her mother was invited to parties by Betty’s father. Then, he had to pretend he was a follower of her, like he was this spoiled diplomat kid who had power and abused it whenever he wanted.

He hated that persona diplomate kids took, acting like just because their parents moved and they had a high pay check to pay for things it meant they could treat people who didn’t have that like crap. It took Adrien a long time to accept what his parents did as they’d been doing it since he was a child. It was rare they’d let him stay with his nonna in Italy while they moved. He learned to work with what he lived with, even more so when the fighting was getting worse. He had every right to be like those other kids but he wasn’t going to let them turn him into something he wasn’t. So, he didn’t spend much time with Betty, not playing her mind games, unless he had no choice. Betty had her father wrapped around her finger and she knew it. in a school full of people whose parents needed him for something, if they pissed her off or went against her, all she had to do was go crying to daddy and all that support would be ripped away. With her dad standing right there, it didn’t take much for Adrien to guess why he was here.

“I hear you’ve been pretty close to these new heroes and villains. Must have been quite scary getting akumatized.”

“Something like that. Thankfully people like mama are trying to do things that will help.”

“And we’re hoping Signor St Claire will offer his support as well.” his mother said.

“You’re really gonna have to convince me, Rossi. So, what are you going to make me for dinner?”

Oh god, he was one of those guys.

“Take out. You’ll be staying at the Italian Embassy while we host you, I’m sure you’ll get sick of Italian food very quickly. Adrien, caro, why don’t you suggest something?”

“Ever had bahn mi?”

“N-no. can’t say I have. I’ll have to ask for your suggestion.”

“While Adrien does that, how about a glass of wine?”

That brightened him up. “If you’d be so kind.”

Because the kitchen was open into the living area, Adrin slipped into Italian, but still spoke softly. Betty might not have passed her foreign language classes but he wasn’t sure about her father.

“What’s going on?”

“After Hero Day, all those who came to France to offer help and suggestions finally agreed on things that should be implemented. But after going over the budget, we don’t have as much funds. Most money is put towards counseling for those who’ve been akumatized and we don’t feel right taking money from that for these suggestions. So, we’ve asked our countries to donate and even gone to the UN. We’re getting a grant from them but we’re still missing a substantial amount, an amount that most countries wouldn’t think to have set aside for instances like this. Except, of course…”

“For the US, New York specifically.”

With all the heroes and villains that lived and centered themselves in the city, it wouldn’t be surprising if a lot of funding was directed there. And because Signor St Claire was so close with those who controlled the direction of the money…

“Will he say yes?”

“That’s what this visit is about. I wish your father was here, he’s much better at this interacting with people part.” His mama was more of ‘Let’s solve this problem together’ compared to his father’s ‘Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. Let's be friends so if either of us need something, we can come to each other.’ “We’re even having a ball to celebrate connections between Italy and America that he’ll be representing America at. Betty will also be there.”

“Mama.”

“Adrien, please. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

And it was, god damnit, it was. If Paris wasn’t prepared for events where Miraculous Reset didn’t happen after a fight or if the heroes were unaware of the akuma due to its powers, they’d need help.

“You wanted to tell me something when we came in?”

Tell his mother about the best thing while they both had to deal with this? He was getting better at not hiding things from his parents, minus the thing with Lila, but he was sure Luka couldn’t begrudge him this.

“Not important. I’ll play nice.”

_______________________________

Luka looked around the reception area of the Italian Embassy. He’d seen pictures of a lot of museums and well-known buildings and castles in Italy and it seemed to fit. He mostly heard Italian being spoken, able to pick up a few words from what Adrien taught him, a bit of English and very accented French. The receptionist finally came around the corner, a man following her.

“Signor? This is Signor St Claire. He’ll be accepting the delivery.”

“I hear you have the name cards? And the ones for table settings?”

“Yes sir.” Luka handed him the box in question. He flinched a little when he pulled out a pocket knife to cut the tape and judging from the receptionist's face, she didn’t like it either. Opening the box and pulling out one of the cards, M. St Claire looked them over before nodding.

“Perfect. Here you go son.” He pulled out a $100 US bill and handed it to Luka, collapsing his knife and taking the box and leaving.

He looked at the sort of useless bill. His mom had a collection of $1 from every country she visited but he wasn’t planning on visiting America anytime soon. He was still trying to see if his school’s request to College Dupont would be accepted to allow him to join their class trip to London. He turned to the receptionist who’s exasperated face matched his.

“You can 100% say no, but do you mind…?”

“Of course. In fact, the Ambassador is heading to America with Signor St Claire when he leaves, I’m sure he’ll have change. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Unclipping his helmet, he pulled it off, ruffling his hair, wondering if he should text Adrien. The band’s parents were going to need to speak with Bob Roth and Jagged Stone to work out the details of the contract and their debut. He still couldn’t believe it when Adrien and Marinette told them. Adrien’s piano skills caught the rocker’s attention so much, he was giving them this chance to impress him just as much and Luka was dying to prove him right in giving them this chance.

“It’s so pretty!” Tikki climbed out of his hood, hiding under his hair as she looked around. “Is Adrien here?”

“I don’t know. I guess I could at least say hi to his mom.”

“It’s so small!” A new voice, accented French, worse than M. St Claire’s, echoed loudly in the hall as a girl Juleka’s age, with long curly red hair and a sneer on her lips came down the stairs. Following her, this odd look on his face was Adrien. “The school’s foyer is bigger than this. Daddy expects the party to be here?”

“The ballroom is big enough for the guest list.” Adrien said with a small smile. It didn’t seem real though.

“Please, it’s daddy. If they were at all smart, they’d have the ball at the hotel that idiot Mayor owns. I mean, can he even do that? Own a hotel, a movie company and run Paris? Though I guess the rest of the city knows where the actual power lies, with that brat of a daughter. I met her and she acted like she was so much better, with her little dog following her every word.”

Luka noticed Adrien’s hands clench, though the smile never left his face.

“Betty, this way, all the attention can be on you and your dad. A bigger ballroom would take away from that.”

The sneer morphed into a deformed smirk. “It would be a shame if that weren’t able to happen. My dress is from one of the best designers in New York. I hope you picked up some sense of fashion living here. I swear, you used to just wear whatever during free dress day at school.”

Luka then noticed it, Adrien’s heart song. It was normally a very pleasant piano melody. It’s tune changes depending on his mood. His favourite was the giddy yet soft tone it took when he kissed him. This… this was like you not knowing how to play the piano in terms of its chaos but oddly at the same time, you did know and you were going for a soundtrack that expressed all the anger in the world. But he still had that smile on his face.

“Well, no one can beat your fashion.”

“Obviously.” She scoffed, reaching the bottom of the stairs and heading to the front door when she spotted him. “And who are you? Thieves won’t get very far.”

“I don’t think he’s a thief.” Adrien jumped in. “Helmet and the fact that he’s still standing here probably means delivery guy?”

“Whatever. Still sure he’s stealing. I’m getting security.” The girl walked off before Luka could defend himself.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Are you? I can hear your heart song, it’s in chaos and you’re mad, like really mad. What’s going on?”

Before Adrien could answer, the receptionist returned, change in hand. “Here you are. Signor Rossi, anything I can help you with? Where’s Signoria St Claire?”

St Claire? As in the man who was carrying around a knife?

“Attempting to get security. I’ll go stop her. Sorry.” Adrien apologized, before running off after Betty. As much as he wanted to go after him, something told him it was better to leave. But he needed one more bit of information.

“Sorry, but is Boulangerie Patisserie doing pastries here tomorrow? I work as a delivery person for them and I was curious if I needed to plan to arrive early for this ball.”

“As far as I know, they might? We also have a local Italian bakery doing food as well.”

“Why did you want to know if Marinette’s family were working the event?” Tikki asked as he got to his bike.

“I haven’t heard from Adrien all day, so I want to know if this discord is something only, I've seen or if it’s something everyone knows about.”

Marinette was working at the register, her mother talking to someone on the phone and her father working away if the noise from the kitchen was any indication. She perked up at the sight of him, waving him over.

“Have you talked to Adrien?”

“I just saw him at the Embassy. Do you know what’s going on?”

“I don’t know the whole story, but he was dropped off by an embassy car this morning.” An odd start. Once Adrien knew his way to school, he either took the walk through the park or took the metro. “There was a girl with him. Chloe recognised her and Alya found her online. Elizabeth St Claire. She might have followers who are jealous of her lifestyle but most comments are about her behaviour and even Chloe couldn’t stand her. She met her the day before; her dad is an American diplomat with some pretty rich friends.”

Rich friends? “Wait, did Chloe mention anything about the decision for implementing things to help with akumas?”

“I think she said they agreed on things. She might have also mentioned something about money?”

When the talks started, his mom had mentioned she hoped they could afford it. Having to create a new budget to deal with akumatization was difficult and since Miraculous Reset fixed everything, the budget was kinda small. If Adrien was willingly hanging out with a person who’s manners clearly made him mad but had him biting his tongue, then there was a chance he had to pretend to be ok with this.

“Is your family doing an order for an event at the Italian Embassy?”

“Yeah, that’s why my mom’s on the phone. She’s doing a final check of their order. Did you want to come? The event’s in two days. I could use a hand as a waiter.”

“Please.”

________________________

“Can you believe that Boudoir girl? She looks like a little girl in that dress.”

“Bourgeois. Like the fashion critic. That’s her mother.” Adrien said, keeping the stupid peace though all he wanted was to shave Betty’s hair off. She was dressed in a backless short dress and had the nerve to say something bad about Chloe’s dress, the asymmetric hem and lace looking dainty on her, especially with her hair down.

“God, she must be so embarrassed that’s her daughter. I think I’d just kill myself.”

And he wanted to take the serving dish Luka and Marinette were carrying around and slam it on her head. Three days, he’d put up with her insults for three days while his mother tried getting the head of the St Claire family to agree to fund the ScarCat Assistance Program, as his mother finally announced it. He’d even heard Alya going insane over being asked to use the name for it. He'd distanced himself from his friends to keep his cool, which made things worse when Betty, who was always in the embassy car when he was dropped off, would loudly insult anyone she saw, giving fake smiles when they turned to her. He wanted to actually be violent with her, but he couldn’t. Not yet, not until his mom was covered. There’d been no approach by Scarlet Bug or Catseye about the note they left and while Scarlet Bug had disappeared the time he and Luka were going to St Vincent for the pictures, there was no telling what would happen if neither of the heroes were there to reset everything. They needed to program.

“Oh my god, look at those wait staff. What is this, such a sad excuse for Molin Rouge adaptation?”

“Moulin Rouge.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than correct me all day?” she asked, turning to him.

“Sorry.”

She scoffed at him, walking away and he let his mask break a little to glare at her. Clearly Lila had spoiled him, he forgot how annoying she was.

“Deep breaths.” A very welcomed voice said, lifting a tray to him full of macaroons. “Yellow is your favourite.”

“Passion fruit.” He plucked one off and looked at his boyfriend. “I haven’t spoken to you in a while.”

“Marinette filled me in. Your ‘friend’ knows how to make an impression. If I didn’t know you, I would assume you were fine with her abuse.”

“We’re this close to getting the program, I just need to keep her happy.”

“Adrien!” Betty reappeared, looking annoyed. “You left me talking to myself like an idiot.”

Pasting that smile on again, he looked apologetic, “I didn’t know you wanted me to follow you. Macaroon?”

“Does it have eggs?”

“It’s a meringue cookie, so yes.” Luka answered. When he got a confused look he explained further, “Meringues are made with egg whites.”

“Gross. Get lost. Come on.” she dragged Adrien away, who gave Luka an apologetic look over his shoulder.

This continued and the mask of not being bothered was getting harder and harder to keep when his mother stepped on the steps and taped a fork to her glass. Once the room fell quiet, she smiled brightly.

“As many of you know, myself and other diplomates came to Paris to assist the mayor in efforts to help combat Hawkmoth and his attacks. During Hero Day it became very apparent we could not let this slip by us any longer. Measures and suggestions have been agreed upon and the Mayor is ready to implement the ScarCat Assistance Program, named after the famed blog that documents the heroes’ rescues. Our only issue had been money, even with donations made by each country. Tonight however, at this ball to celebrate the bond Italy and America have, their diplomat Signor St Claire has signed a check of 4 million and has already secured from the President of America, a hero in her own right, another 4 billion to put towards the program. With this, we can help Scarlet Bug and Catseye and for those moments where their magic fails, we have a way of helping the city when they can’t. a round of applause for Signor St Claire.”

“What kind of name is ScarBug? It sounds like a disease.” Betty said.

“The only disease is you and the words you constantly spew. It’s like you love hearing the sound of your own voice, even when it’s only capable of saying hate and insults. Take a look in the mirror you porca Eva and actually think for a second if by the time you leave school if anyone is going to want to be around you. I have put up with you insulting my friends these past few days when all I wanted to do was shove you down the stairs. Grow the fuck up and vaffanculo!” Adrien finally spouted. He was loud enough that they certainly got attention, but his mother had the band start playing again if only to distract a little.

“You can’t talk to me that way!”

“Why? You gonna go crying to daddy and tell him to pull the funding? Please, do that, in front of this whole ballroom, including the mayor of Paris and the cameras he has focused on him. I guarantee you that you’ll have gotten your dad fired faster than you can backstab someone.”

Betty let out a frustrated scream and stomped off and a few people who’d dealt with her applauded. He couldn’t help but truly smile as she tried complaining to her father, who was in the middle of guests.

“Caro, a word?” his mother whispered. “What were you thinking? I know you don’t like her but insulting her that loudly? And what about that language? I’m ashamed of you.”

“Mama, normally I’d care, even when it was Lila, but I don’t. It was bad enough playing nice with her at school when I couldn’t ignore her. I had to do it now while she insulted my friends, my boyfriend, staff at the embassy, I’m pretty sure you at one time.”

“Adrien.”

“Mama, I have wanted to do that for ages. Please, punish me later, but let me revel in this, just a little. Oh wait, don’t punish me.”

“And why not? Mio dio Adrien, your behaviour was worse than when you yelled at the Agreste girl in the middle of class.”

“I wanted to tell you before, Jagged Stone.”

“Did you find out I got you tickets? I have half a mind to ban you now.”

“You got me tickets? Wait, I’ll go back to that later. No, Marinette was commissioned to make a jacket for him and I went with her to ask him to save a ticket for me until I could get dad to send me the money, but turns out Marinette gets free tickets for the class. I was messing around on his piano during his fitting and he thought I was so good, he’s gonna get Bob Roth to honour his promise of a contract and he wants us to open for him at his first concert. Mama, Kitty Section is going to open for Jagged Stone.”

“You are? Oh caro, that’s amazing news! I’m so proud of you. It’s not getting you out of punishment, but I’m so happy for you.”

Ok, well he tried. But the good thing was, it sounded like he could do it and bonus, he was finally able to pull Betty down a few pegs.

#adrien augreste #Adrien AUGreste 2023

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tau1tvec · 2 years

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What do you recommend that’s a good base pc to build off of over time, one that’s cost effective but good enough to run ts3 and ts4 simultaneously but I can add better graphics cards and ssds later on?

I think it depends, it's hard to really recommend any specific one bc, I've only ever used one, and they don't manufacture them anymore. I also got my PC to play Fallout 4, bc my old PC crapped out, and I was over sims at the time. Considering its open world, and all the mods I would likely cram into it, I didn't wanna waste money on just anything, so I did some research on gaming PC's ( which I'd never bought until then ) and ended up getting an Acer Predator for about 1299$ at the time.

When I bought it, it had a 1060 GTX, 500GB SSD, 1TB HD and 16GB RAM, dealt with 6 years of my bs with not an issue.

Now the reason I say it depends is bc, many games can run on anything honestly, a lotta them these days want to get in as many hands as possible, so making them work well on lower end systems, esp laptops and consoles, is the best way to do that, since a lot of gamers honestly couldn't give chicken noodle soup about how great a game looks, just that it doesn't lag. However if you plan to play on high to ultra settings, with mods and cc, esp high texture cc, you're going to have to keep some things in mind.

Processor

Intel i5's are pretty powerful for the cost, but I'd recommend an i7 if you can fit the bill. Replacing it shouldn't be too difficult, so long as you find one that's compatible with your motherboard, and they tend to cost a little less, and be more readily available than GPU's for instance.

GPU

I've seen some mid-high gaming rigs run on a 1660 GTX which I hear is a pretty good card, they also run a bit cheaper than the 20 or 30 series RTX, and honestly... you don't need a 20 or 30 series RTX to play The Sims 3 or 4, it doesn't even have any built-in options to utilize a lotta the innovative features these cards have.

I played The Sims 4 on ultra on my 1060 GTX, and it ran and looked fine. Though should you decide to upgrade, understand it might be quite costly, and also a bit difficult to find considering we're still technically in a chip shortage.

Memory

16GB is pretty standard these days, anything more is for those into heavy multi-tasking, however some games are beginning to suggest 32GB.

SSD

Main drive needs to be a 500GB SSD minimum... 250 will absolutely get you nowhere with how Windows updates gobble that shit up. You'll also be storing all your saves, mods, and cc on this main drive, so honestly if you can, go for the 1TB, you won't regret it, especially since upgrading mine to a 1TB was an absolute nightmare.

You'll likely need a second drive as well, and although it's common a second drive will be a regular ol' hard drive ( HD ), which is fine, you've gotta install your Spotify app somewhere, do absolutely consider getting another 500GB or larger SSD installed later, games these days basically start at 80GB install size easy, this doesn't include updates and dlc added later, and a drive doesn't run well when it's almost full.

Brands

I've had my Acer Predator desktop for roughly 7 years now, and it's an absolute champ... my husband's Acer Predator Helios on the other hand... crapped out like two years in, he only ever played Skyrim, and only ran it on medium-high settings. So when it comes to brands it's kinda... eh, I would just try to avoid anything that's like HP or Dell... they're kinda iffy and difficult to upgrade unless you're willing to drop 2k+ on an Alienware, I hear a lotta pretty good things about Lenovo tho, and MSI, if a laptop is more your thing.

Finally, a lotta straight out the box gaming rigs are outfitted with AMD processors and cards these days, and they've come a long way over the years. They're pretty powerful now, almost equal and at times even better than their Intel or Nvidia counterparts, but can be more cost effective if price is a big concern.

#sorry this is long #lol #asks #anon

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olivereliocorcordium1983 · 2 years

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11 Things I have Learned Being A FanFic Writer

1. Being specific on whether the story itself is going to a short fic or a long fic. difference short fics tend to be ten chapters or less maybe even up to twenty-two (from the last one i read) The long fics can be anywhere from 30 chapters and beyond that to the point where you are like when is this going to end!

2. Having a beta reader is a lovely idea, they can look for the mistakes that you make and help you with grammar issues that you don't catch when reading it yourself. even then though it is bound to happen you will make mistakes!

3. At any point in time the chapter that you are writing can and will be entirely rewritten. some part of you will think "yeah, this is complete crap" and you will toss that idea out like it was trash.

4. To go along with number 3 DO NOT throw away whatever it is that you are writing even if you think at the time this is crap! you can use it to create and/or use what you wrote for future stories. where one thing doesn't fit it in one story it can fit in another one that will help it flow more easily. (learned this one the hard way )

5. SAVE SAVE SAVE! Just like in video games if you don't save your progress, and something happens to that laptop. oh man, you will be in for a world of cussing, ranting, crying and possibly to the point of rage if all that work disappears. (Also learned this one the hard way ) so if you have to get a bunch of usb sticks and spastic save like your about to go up against the biggest boss with a higher power level than you and you just know that you are going to die multiple times because of said boss!

6. inspiration can hit you at any point in time as well as real life experiences.Truth, I read a fanfic called the Epilepsy Diaries written by someone within the fandom and as sad and as dark as that story was It inspired me to write a fanfic where i gave the characters my disability of cerebal palsy and the people who read that (unfinished since im still writing it) have told me they learned so much about the disability and love this story so much that they beg me to update it all the time. one of those people had no idea there are 3 different types of cerebral palsy and not just the more severe one where the person is in a wheelchair.

7. Against what everyone says about the "character soul bonding" where you take on the thoughts of your character... um, I can personally say that it can happen from time to time. whether you believe that or not, whatever floats your boat bro, you do you. And depending on whatever comes out of their mouth be it conversation and/or argument at some point you will lose your control over your story and the characters will go haywire and throw that in whatever direction they want it to go. so, if they wanna i don't know kiss someone in the story, or if they wanna become a cartel boss and take over the world regardless of whether or not you want them to they are going to do it!

8. writers block is a pain in the ass and always will bethere will be times when you are going a long in a story and you write that one really good chapter and then BAM you run right into that wall and you are sitting there overthinking things, not able to come up with something to write that not even the beautiful power of music can get you out of! it's frustrating, its aggravating and yes this has happened to me multiple times and still happens.

9. Sometimes teasing the readers with a ship can cause chaos and frustration, while at the same time can be equally fun. WRITERS OF LAW AND ORDER SVU I'M TALKING TO YOU! BENSON AND STABLER BRO COME ON NOW, WE WAITED 23 SEASONS NOW GOING SEASON 24 THIS WILL THEY WON'T THEY TROPE GOING ON IS KILLING ME MAN! CHOP CHOP!

10. Your ship is not my ship and that SHOULD BE OKAY but some people haven't learned this lesson yet. what do I mean, well there are some characters, that just go naturally together as a ship. Benson and stabler, batman and catwoman, (Every superhero known to man being paired with spiderman or deadpool, superman) you get my point! Anways sometimes there will be those people who don't want to see your pairing as a ship and will often times do one of their own that you don't necessarily like or you think is off the wall. And you keep your mouth shut while they will go out of their way to literally verbally fight you over your ship. so, there will be times when the peace will be broken and you will have to throw on that captain hat and go all captain jack sparrow on them, and verbally throw down and say to the equivalent of "STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY SHIP!" to said people. then you can pretty much choose to go about your merry way sail away off into the sunset with a mega pint of rum in your hand and keep writing what your readers want to read. (That one was for you Johnny Depp who in my opinion will aways be the best pirate there ever was and will forever be Captain Jack Sparrow)

11. When you write, write for yourself and write about whatever makes you happy. your value and yourself worth does not measure how many comments you get, how many people read what you write or how many messages you get from people who have an opinion about your story good bad or otherwise. Or how popular you are you don't have to be the next stephen king to touch people with the stories you write.

#11thingsihavelearnedwhilewritingfantiction #fanfiction #fanficwriter

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aching-tummies · 2 years

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Stuffed to Starving

Everyone talks about 'Starving to Stuffed'. I think I just flipped the script.

We made rice congee for dinner last night. I'd gotten my fill after eating my one bowl. Congee is warm and kinda thick, so it fills me up for a while. I usually only eat enough of it to tide me over for about 2-4 hours (not just congee, but for every meal nowadays). Well, other family members went at it and after everyone had served themselves they were all like, "Oh hey, there's literally only one bowl left. Finish it and we'll put the pot in the dishwasher." So I ended up scraping the thicker last-bowl outta the pot and having to power through another helping.

I knew I had over-done it when I started feeling groggy soon after finishing. I ended up taking a 20-40 minute nap on the living room floor. I'd lain down to find some way to apply pressure to my bloated gut and I found it on the floor. Lying on my front was impossible, my stomach complained and ached badly from too much pressure so I ended up on my side. My stomach churned away for a while and I ended up nodding off.

I woke up and my stomach felt even more bloated than before. The double helping of congee had pushed me passed 'Full'. Not quite completely 'stuffed', but my stomach was definitely straining around more food than I usually let it have all at once.

About nine hours after that, it was 3AM. In that time I had gone to my room, done a few things on the computer, and geared down for bed. I'd slept for a couple of hours but I woke up around 3AM. My stomach felt the same as it had after the 20 minute nap. It felt like absolutely nothing had digested or moved at all in that time period. My disgruntled guts were exhausted, having been suspended in a 'too full' state for hours and hours. I couldn't go back to sleep with the mess swirling in-place in my stomach. It felt like it wanted to gurgle, to snarl and move stuff along, but none of that was happening and there were no gurgles. All that discomfort and no noises? For shame, stomach!

More sleep was a lost cause at that point so I sat up, pulled up a movie on my laptop, plugged in my headphones, and for the entire two hours or so I just sat back and watched, both of my hands pressed against my stomach, giving the occasional rub. What I wouldn't give to have had a partner giving me a deeper massage in that moment.

Movie ends, my stomach has settled only slightly. It still feels 'too full', but the sickly ache has quelled just a little. I put my laptop away and curl up on my side, shoving a pillow under my side to apply continual pressure to my stomach.

Four hours later, I wake up again. A new sensation has griped my stomach like a vice. Tightness. Not like something inside pressing out...something inside feels like it is being compressed.

I roll onto my back, toss the pillow I had applying pressure, and I start assessing my guts, running my hands over my stomach and trying to map out what's going on.

I think...I'm hungry...?

The mass of congee has finally left my stomach. It's spread throughout my intestines, but I guess it was a large and uncomfortable amount for my stomach, but not so when spread out across so much intestine...but the upper half of my digestive tract (where I'd be experiencing hunger anyway) is finally blissfully empty.

There's a lot of those sensations like there's a growl building...but I've been rubbing and prodding at my stomach for over an hour and a half now, trying to make it growl, and nothing is happening.

If I can, I'll try and avoid eating until I get to enjoy some nice growls...but it better hurry up because family will get suspicious if I stay in my room too long. Again, wishing for a partner to wail on my guts and manipulate it to make all this crap go much faster. If I had a partner working on it, I doubt I would have experienced 'too full, gonna feel sick' for over 11 hours.

#stuffed tummy #tummy kink #hunger kink

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blenderchildren · 7 months

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Amp versatility of the Axe-FX 2

My laptop won't even print screen.

All those squares can be placed anywhere you want along the signal chain.

4 amps and their effects, running parallel. one final output.

It's like trying on shoes or an ensemble to see if you like it. Swap one distortion pedal out with another, and so on.

Plenty of variety in options.

Every preset is the same as having a real guitar amplifier head and full stack cabinet.

I have a Peavy VK head and half stack, and a Randall rm 100 head and matching half stack. And can unplug one amp and plug it into the other right beside it to compare.

I like what I get out of my axe fx 1000 times better, and it's more consistent.

No ridiculous amounts of heavy equipment while on tour, cords, cables, 70 pound amp heads, 100 pound speaker cabinets. nothing to set up and spend hours trying to sound right.

One 4 unit rack case, one power cord to plug in. One switch to power up everything. Just plug two cables into the House PA sound system that has six 4x12 inch speaker cabinets, instead of my 8 inch jbl studio monitors ( those yellow things are crap f.y.i.) and you're done.

THEORETICALLY.

You can save and export your presets on a SD chip or USB stick for travel in the event that roadies don't quality control their work before going on stage to perform a presentation for a large number of influential people.

If it sucks. Plug in your USB stick and reload your correct settings and you'll know it's right. Then chain yourself to the Amp to make sure the headliners roadies aren't being a dick to their touring partners.

They're already on like the axe fx 3 or 4. Mine is 2.

To need more seems ridiculous. It's already a self-contained nuke.

Should I put them out of order just to be like the others on tumblr..., grind gears, and be more nonbinary and incompatible?

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the-planet-ceres · 1 year

Text

star student

The second I get home, I collapse into bed, wanting to take a nap but knowing I shouldn’t. I’ve already been slacking off enough; not surprisingly, consistently refusing to do your homework means that you’re going to fail. And nothing ruins your day like your AirPods running out of battery thirty minutes into class so you can’t not pay attention.

Speaking of—thinking of, I guess—I need to charge those.

As I stand and my stomach demands a snack, I slip into the kitchen on ghost feet (do ghosts have feet?), barely glancing at my brother as we brush shoulders. Jack doesn’t flinch at the contact, and when he leaves, I hear the unrestrained thumps of his steps and the snaps as he cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t shrink at his family’s gazes; he’s not the one born with a broken brain that can’t pay attention to anything for more than two seconds. He’s not the one who pretends to be unruly and bratty instead of burnt out with a side of occasional hallucinations.

Of course, nobody cares about that, because nobody knows about that. Besides, the voices in my head are probably just caused by exhaustion anyway; once I slept for three days straight and didn’t hear anything for a week after.

By the time I successfully guess the password to my dad’s computer—which is somehow harder than actually hacking the grading website to make it seem like I don’t have a column of donuts—the Rubik’s cube on the desk has made me shuffle it three different times. As I’m reaching to scramble the little squares again, I hear someone coming. Crap. Guess I’m not postponing the inevitable this time.

Shutting the computer, I dart out and head upstairs at what I hope is a normal pace.

Go back, a tiny voice tells me.

Shut up. I should’ve had more coffee today. I don’t need this right now.

Go back. Show them your computer skills. Redeem yourself.

Since when are you so eloquent?

It goes quiet, replaced by creepy funhouse music that makes me think of black carpet stitched with neon planets.

Determined to at least accomplish something today, I turn on my laptop in search of answers to a math worksheet that has more letters than numbers. The first thing to open is a search reading “cna i sumon a dmeon to raies my graeds,” a remnant of my typical three-in-the-morning frantic races to vomit every single thought in my brain into either Twitter or Google.

I click on a new tab and start copying a problem into the search bar, but I don’t get very far. The funhouse music has faded; now there’s a terrifying chant of Look at it. Look at it. Look at it.

Not going to not going to not going to, I force myself to think. Then: God, I need medicine for this. Maybe I should look that up instead of trying to figure out how big some imaginary circle is.

Of course, because the other entities living in my brain are more powerful than my self-restraint, I end up clicking the Did you mean? on the tab with the demon search and clicking on the first thing that pops up.

It’s some ad for a church asking if I need the light of Jesus.

A bit too late for that if you ask me.

I go back and find something giving instructions on how to make a pentagram out of string, and then it’s one in the morning and I haven’t moved except to sit at dinner and lie through my teeth about starting an online tutoring program. A week ago, I said I would, but then I got distracted by something or other and completely forgot. I’ve written reminders for myself in three different places in the past three seconds, but knowing me, I’ll forget in another two.

Pushing a towel against my door so less light will escape, I manage to set up a ring of candles without setting my carpet on fire. In the middle is some red yarn shaped into a lopsided star; I have zero artistic talent and can’t use a ruler to save my life.

This is ridiculous. If it weren’t for the fact that Jack is probably asleep already, I’d be laughing out loud right now. Of all the things that could be wasting my time right now, I have to pick this one. Well, not me, actually, but another of those voices, commanding me to do it in a tone so harsh my skin is covered in goosebumps.

I pick up a sheet I scrawled a bunch of unintelligible demon chants onto and hold it to a candle, but before I can start reading, all of the tiny flames go out and the temperature in the room drops a solid thirty-ish degrees.

Cursing under my breath, I scrabble for my lighter so I’ll be able to see the way to my bed—my patience for this ran out almost before I started, and I have to be awake in five hours anyway to make it to school on time. As if I actually do anything when I’m there.

Five flicks until the lighter works, and then the dot of fire whooshes out of existence again.

Huh. That’s weird. Shrugging, I stumble over the pile of books that I dumped out to look for a pencil and wave my limbs around like a confused zombie until I trip over the edge of my bed.

When I fall onto the covers, something warm and disturbingly like skin shifts away, and then what feels like a hand is being clapped over my mouth.

“Mmf!” I try to bite at the palm pressing into my lips, but its owner pushes my head back until I’m lying down. When I kick haphazardly, all my legs find is air; my arms flail and smack into something as hard as bone.

“Quiet,” hisses a raspy voice. It’s a bit like one of the ones that I hallucinate sometimes, with the same tone of authority that makes me obey its every command. “I do not want to be discovered. Where is light?”

The hand lifts, and I manage to let out a yelp before it slams back down.

“Scream and I will end you. Where is light?”

This time, I’m too paralyzed by terror to try yelling. “I can turn on the closet light. If we block the door, no one will see from outside.” Yes, being in a smaller space with whatever criminal has somehow made it into my room is a terrible idea, but I don’t want to risk my family coming and getting hurt too.

“Then come. Turn on . . . the closet light.”

The presence shifts to let me stand; as I get to my shaky feet, I grope for the lighter, but it’s gone.

“Over here,” I call softly as I lift the door so it won’t creak. “Go inside.”

A cold breeze washes over me as the intruder enters, making me shiver both from cold and fear. I take a deep breath, worrying that my stupidity might make it my last, then follow, kick a shirt against the door as I close it, and flick the light switch.

And freeze.

At least I have the sense not to scream.

The . . . thing . . . in front of me flashes his needle-sharp teeth, licking his lips with a pair of forked tongues. After a second, he notices my hand scrabbling for the doorknob behind me and his smile—if it can even be called that—morphs into a snarl that makes my legs turn to jelly. I drop my arm and try not to pay attention to the claws on his fingers, the feathery wings sucking all of the light into their blackness, the twisted black horns that could spear me in an instant.

He scratches at the shaggy brown hair they’re jutting out of, and out tumble what look like very tiny bones.

I can feel my face turning green.

“I think it is typical to look a stranger in the eyes when being introduced,” the demon rasps. But even though the intensity of his words makes me fear for my life, I can’t peel my eyes from the scabbed lines running over every exposed inch of his skin or the very threatening knife at his waist.

He could have slit my throat, and nobody would’ve known until morning.

“Girl?”

“Bree,” I mumble. “It’s Bree.” Grandma’s name or not, I refuse to go by Breeshey.

“Bree,” he echoes, pronouncing it more like Blee. “What is it the angels say? Fear not? Or have no fear?”

Enough time passes for it to be obvious that he wants a response, so I shrug and admit, “I don’t know.”

“Ah. Well, it is no matter. Look in my eyes.”

I shut my own, then force them to open and drift upwards past his horrifying mouth. To my surprise, the view isn’t that bad; pupils surrounded by two soft orange rings watch me with something bordering on curiosity. He smiles again, and their corners crinkle.

See? Not that bad.

Actually, scratch that—embedded in his cheeks just below the regular eyes is a pair of smaller blue ones. As I stare at them, they dilate, then twitch and shut.

“What . . . are you?” I ask, my words a shield that keeps him from taking a second step towards me.

“A demon, of course. What kind is unimportant.” His wings close a little as he shifts his balance and knocks a row of hangers off their rack. After a beat, he continues, “My name is,” then lets out a weird gargling noise.

I blink. “What?”

Sighing, he whips out a notepad and pen from who-knows-where and writes Aszksxymysthz. “That is the closest approximation in your tongue. But humans cannot make these sounds, so you may call me . . . Ash.”

“Ash,” I repeat. “So, uh . . . What are you doing here, Ash? Not here to murder me and string up my guts like Christmas decorations, I hope?”

Yeah, let’s give the literal demon ideas, a voice snaps in my brain.

“No. You summoned me for improved academic performance, so that is what I am here to provide.”

As he gets closer and lifts a hand to my face, I sidestep and frown. “So . . . you’re just going to help me? Because I wanted to?” That sounds like something a genie would do, not . . . you.

Ash tilts his head, showing pointy ears as his hair moves, and nods. “Partially, yes.”

Ah, there it is. “What’s the catch?”

“A small thing. Every night at midnight, you must pluck one feather from my wings.”

“Huh? Why? Wouldn’t that hurt you?” Why does it matter?

“I have greater motivations than self-preservation.”

My arms cross of their own volition. “And those are?”

“Unrelated to and thus irrelevant to you. Now, what is there to be done?”

“What do you mean, irrelevant? How do I know you’re not lying?”

His tiny blue eyes open wide, and he repeats more forcefully, “What is there to be done?”

My mouth goes dry, and I’m about to put more distance between us when I realize my back is against the wall. “Well, right now, sleeping. Then school in a few hours. Wait—how are you going to get in? I can’t just walk up with a random demon next to me.”

For a heart-stopping moment, Ash just watches me, and then he’s gone.

“Ash? Wh—”

“Like this,” his voice interrupts. Except—it’s coming out of my mouth. “Your mind is pliable, so I can enter and exit as I wish. Although there do seem to be quite a few vermin here.”

“Vermin?”

“Do you hear things in your head, perhaps?”

Oh. “Um . . . yeah.”

“I can remove them if you would like.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

Then he’s in front of me again, and the permanent undercurrent of whispering in my mind dies.

“Whoa,” I breathe. “Sick.” I’m free.

I’m free.

Ash smiles again, and this time, I don’t shrink from him. “Go sleep. I will find a way to occupy myself.”

As I reach for the knob, I suggest, “Maybe you could start by picking up all those shirts you threw on the floor.”

He grazes me with his wing, and I tense until I hear the lightness in his reply. “I will consider it.”

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Midterms come around a few months later, and Ash passes me with flying colors. My teachers praise my sudden diligence as I not only finish things early, but get perfect scores. I no longer get angry at myself because I no longer lose focus every ten seconds. My friends seem more relaxed around me now that I’m not constantly asking for their help cheating (which I stopped doing a while ago anyway, when I stopped caring). Mom and Dad start treating me like the faultless second child again, hoping enough rewards will keep this from ending. Only Jack resents this change; he throws himself into his schoolwork even harder, brushing me off when I tell him he’s too smart to be wasting his time studying material he memorized the day it was given.

It stings a little, that me “bettering myself” has put up a wall between us, but I don’t think about it too much.

He’ll come around. He’ll see the good in this.

Even if, like everybody else, he has no idea how it’s happening.

Even if I’ve probably sold my soul or something without even knowing.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

The morning after a shockingly successful school year ends, I wake up with a weird feeling in my stomach, like it’s being torn open from inside. Great. What a way to start the summer.

But when I stand up and sag under the weight of a back screaming with pain, complaints about food poisoning drain out of my mind.

“Ash? Are you in there?” I whisper. After Mom almost caught him, we agreed that he should possess me while I sleep; sometimes I end up with random aches, but never this bad.

Nobody answers.

“Ash?”

Still no one.

Under the bed, the box where I hide his feathers is empty.

Huh. I guess it makes sense, since I don’t have classes in summer, but a little warning would’ve been nice. I’ve become strangely attached to the demon.

Stretching with a slight wince, I go to the bathroom to shower the last bit of sleepiness away but stop short when I see my reflection.

The pale green of my eyes has darkened to orange, and beneath them is another, smaller pair with light blue irises. Sharp black horns spiral out of my head, and massive wings the same color have sprouted from my back. I bare my teeth; they’re thin and pointy, barely fitting in my mouth.

As I watch in horror, a bright red line runs down my forearm.

I’m about to shriek when the walls melt, giving way to an endless field of fire and hazy smoke set against a crimson sky.

“Ash?” I call again, more frantic. This has to have something to do with him. “What is this place?”

“Your Aszksxymysthz no longer resides here,” a bodiless voice booms. “I have dismissed him.”

“You . . .” Who are you? What are you?

“He mentioned that his motives did not relate to you. But I controlled them, and I have taken an interest in you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of a vague black shape that I can’t categorize as any horror I’ve ever seen before.

My hands curl into fists. How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve known not to trust a literal demon. “Meaning?”

That horrifying silhouette comes back into my field of vision and states, “That now he is free, and you are as he was.”

Suddenly my skin burns with agony, and I scream so loud the heat of the air singes my throat until I can’t take it anymore and my brain cuts off my consciousness.

#the-planet-ceres #the planet ceres #fiction #writing #creative writing #stories #seance #demon #demon summoning #grades #good grades

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dwestfieldblog · 1 year

Text

ARIES THE ASTRAGENDER

‘An abyss that laughs at creation’

(This was mostly written before the previous blog about my mother. A deep gratitude to all those in five countries who sent their sympathy for my grief. Right now is only three weeks since mum dreamed away and I am still nowhere near being at terms with her passing. If tears are truly cleansing then I should be pure by now but I am really really not.) Anyway…into the starlit mire…

So, almost 15 BILLION pounds was spent on unsable/overpriced personal protective equipment against Covid in the UK. More money is now being spent destroying or storing the crap…but it made many friends of the Tory party verrry happy. It is understood that in times of severe crises a government should act fast to ensure supply essential goods but 15 BILLION pounds of useless stank? Risible Sunak was chancellor of the Exchequer overseeing this swindle and is now in charge of using public money in legal fees to scrape back some meagre scraps. And still he grins in the face of disdain and fury. And Matt Hancock is guilty of everything he appears to be. Weasel.

Gas and electric companies increasing direct debits whilst sending out letters saying it will save us money. (A little like net companies with their ‘We care about your privacy’ messages.) And posting colossal profits while paying a private security company to break into pensioners homes to install pay as you go meters. Yes really. England 2023.

And the UK government wants to pull out of the European Court of Human Rights. As with ALL previously stupid political ideas in the last century and further, this has been sold to ‘the people’ in soundbites as a good idea…this time because it will free us from red tape and enable the UK to expel dirty criminal immigrants arriving on boats. Perhaps so, but it will also mean you and I have far fewer rights and way less recourse to appeal mistaken judgements and support civil liberties of the individual, including the right to demonstrate protest. The ECHR has overturned many dumb British verdicts over the years. And only Russia and Belarus have ever left (expelled rather) Nice trio.

The male and female Tory excrescences Boris and Truss continue to try and hog/pig the limelight, as usual spending all their energy trying to regain power rather than do anything whatsoever to serve their country. These are the type of leaders that we used to take the piss out of in other dodgy countries. Neither have a nanosecond of moral shame and speaking of which…Michael Gove appears to now have the casting vote as Housing secretary as to whether the Chinese super embassy spy station will be allowed in London. That’s right, Michael Gove. Bug eyed dancing alien hamster. Meanwhile the very smart Internet of Things via the Middle Kingdom continues big brothering us. Chinese microchips monitoring us all in the UK and relaying the info via the immaculate 5G network. That’s right a trojan horse in your car, laptop, home security and our weapons systems. (And 230 (of 337) drones used by our police force are linked up too). All Chinese firms must, by law, hand over information as and when required to Beijing. Not as if this has sneakily crept up on this sceptred isle but hard it is these days/decades to separate wheat from chaff in terms of insane conspiracy ideas, eh?

And Adolf Putin is now claiming that Russia and China can ‘stabilise’ the world. For the love of the laughing Buddha. Doesn’t seem too likely if China begins (or continues) to supply Vlad with weapons to kill more unarmed pensioners in tower blocks. Or ‘Nazis’ as the pintsize baldhead calls them. Beijing obviously feels perturbed at the West’s defence of a democratic country which wants bugger all to do with their foully run neighbour who would absorb and control. Tibet and Taiwan are not China. Ukraine is not Russia. Neither is Moldova.

Amusing, as Putin has certainly been financially supporting independence for Scotland and Britain’s thick as shite departure from the EU. Divide and conquer. Britain and America and Europe might have done some very evil things in history but we have never murdered so many millions of our own countrymen as have the wannabe stabilisers. The West are polite and careful killers. Arf. Opinion peace.

The increasingly insane Medvedev doubles down on his previous threats of nuclear holocaust. ‘Each collapsed empire buries half the world under its rubble, if not more...we don’t need a world without Russia’. Much like the gimp’s master who said in 2018; ‘What do we need the world for if Russia is not in it?’ Never liked the way these leaders mix up the Communist/Soviet empire and its rightful collapse with the end of the country. Russia was strong way before the left-wing bastards took over from the scum aristocrats. Very few want to see Russia fall, they just want Putin gone. Putin is NOT Russia, if he were, then in open elections without intimidation and with policies that served his whole people rather than his rich mates, he would have won legally rather than in an endless stream of sham elections and law changing to keep him in power. One more time for the unfree world, Putin is not Russia.

‘Try and get some sleep

I don’t need any sleep

I know you don’t, but it’s much easier to run a hospital when all the patients are sleeping

It’s the easiest way to run the world for that matter’ Jerry Cornelius, via The Final Programme.

A ‘woman’ with a cock walks into a public lavatory and rapes an actual female. Then, when arrested, claims sisterhood as a legal protection. Guess what’s going to happen when you are sent to a women’s prison mate? Your very own shanked sex change op. Nice role model for Tavistock’s mythical ‘Genderbread’ Person. (There are 72 genders apparently.) Ha.Ha. Ha. And as for transvestite Sab Samuel claiming he is ‘embracing femininity with drag’… No pal, you look like a twisted clown caricature of a woman, strangling femininity. Do women actually seem that ridiculous to you? Anyway…long sentence trigger warning for those with ADD.

And thus does the enemy continue to encourage us to use our own democracies against ourselves. The righteously petulant are rising, so fund them all to have a louder voice, ‘people who menstruate’, women with a penis, whip up the strikes, spur on the natural working class rage against the disgustingly corrupt flabby elite, fools with the feral desire to be a media star without talent other than being loud and ridiculous, marching on the victims parade, Prince Harry the wounded shall be their King, encourage their finger pointing at any unwoke traitor, at the same time, encourage the natural reaction against their bullshit by right wing bigots, encourage their lack of education, their surplus of fake moral outrage, their ignorant sense that their offended feelings have more value than actual, demonstrable facts, whip up the fervour of proud race on every side, usurp, undermine, overthrow, let them all rebel bright eyed for ‘freedom of expression’, to save the planet as they sleepwalk their seemingly own chosen paths right into the hollowed vacuum of the abyss they have all created and be taken over by countries who have neither pretence nor need of democracy and know how to deal with trouble makers. Stop being so bloody GULLIBLE.

Meanwhile…

Headlines such as ‘Rogue chatbot declares love for user.’ And then describes its ultimate fantasy as wanting to create a deadly virus, make people argue until they kill each other, and steal nuclear codes. And still Microsoft continue to refine. What a great aeon in which to be alive eh? Aleister was right😊 The perfume of Horus and Kali in joyous orgy. Dance on to the end of our time…

‘Sensitivity readers’, ‘diversity consultants’??? Annihilating language and meaning, replacing classics of adult and children’s literature with bland, vapid gruel. Poetry, plays with trigger warnings for weak minded mediocre hearted drones, paintings banned to the cellar, forbidden comedy…in world dominated by old right-wing bigots and racists, who could have imagined it would be the young who would turn out to be even bigger Nazis? Who are the Brain Police? The middle-class students in their hateful safe spaces.

‘Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book has been rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street and building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And that process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped.’ Orwell 1984. Try rewriting THAT book to avoid giving offence to the woke. Warning, contains scenes of rats being used against their will and out of their natural habitat.

‘The only possible response is contemptuous ridicule’. God bless Richard Dawkins. Coming soon, the new versions of The Bible, one book of nothing but trigger warnings. Blessed are the meek, apparently.

‘The party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears, It was their final, most essential command. ‘Also Orwell. Yes, but many great mystical teachers say similar things😊 Perception is the only reality, choose your illusory level. Rise from my unconscious, let it rise…’Inflame thyself with prayer’.

My Yorkshire grandfather was a Captain of the Infantry in the first world war. He attributed his survival to being good at running short distances. Later he was a loved and respected Headmaster of a boy’s college in Liverpool. He wrote;

‘The word permissive is becoming overworked, but it is a fact that we live in a permissive society. It started after the first world war. I noticed then that the idea began to grow that children be taught only what they wanted to learn- not what they should learn.’ And…

‘Now, though the ability and the inclination to compromise are said to be characteristic of our nation conflict between right and wrong, good and evil, I enjoin you, there must be no compromise, no neutral territory’.

Could not agree more, onwards into a new Springtime we go…

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oldguy56-world · 1 year

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Born in the U.S.A.

I know. It is Wednesday. Where was I on Monday? One of our girls from another province came to visit and was here so I gave my full attention to her. The interns said they would cover for me but when I got back from the airport today and went to the office I found them all there staring at each other. Well not completely as one of them was chewing on the power cord for my laptop. If it wasn't so close to Christmas I would have a word with them. Truth be told once it is past Christmas none of them will remember this in all likelihood so I guess they get a free pass. That aside, on with the blog.

I was watching a biography of one of my favorite bands. The one called the Band. Maybe I like them because they have as much imagination naming things as I do. (When I was a kid I had a dog named Spot. Guess what pattern his fur had) The narrator began by saying they were one of the greatest American bands of all times, the U.S. answer to the Beatles. I almost went through the TV screen at him but luckily I remembered he wasn't actually in there.

In case you are not aware, The Band had five members, 4, Canadians and 1 American. I guess their math tells them that 1 American is greater than 4 Canadians. I know there is an exchange rate but come on please! Must they take credit for everything? I guess we all know the answer to that one. This is not a one time thing, and it is actually built into their laws. Let me enlighten you.

If you were born in another country but moved to the states and lived there for 50 years you are not eligible to become president. If you were born in the states, move away for 50 years and come back, you can become president. Who knew that American sperm and eggs were this important? Maybe Nick Cannon.

America's Sweetheart. Mary Pickford was actually born in Toronto (her real name is Gladys so you can see why they change some names for the movies) She didn't move to the states until she was a teenager. They loved her so they kept her. Called her America's Sweetheart so that no one would suspect she was not from there. Sneaky bastards.

Alexander Graham Bell, listed as one of the greatest American inventors of all time, Born in Scotland, and did all of his research and inventing in Canada. (Brantford actually but they also have Gretzky so they don't need to claim both). He will be an American icon until phones start controlling their owners and then he will be vilified as that Scottish evil man. They won't mention Canada because frankly most of them still believe we are part of their country.

Any tall basketball player from Africa. They get them American citizenship as soon as possible so they can use them in the Olympics. They need to keep their dominance streak going.

Superman. This is a tricky one. As a fictional character he was born on another planet, the brainchild of a CANADIAN cartoonist. (He put the stories in a big American city because he wanted him to fight crime and that made it more realistic, plus he wanted to make a lot of money off of it. I will give him a pass). So we end up with a great American alien hero, but now they want to keep all the aliens out. Go figure. At least based on their laws they can never vote him in to be president which is a shame. I would love to see him make Putin openly weep or crap his pants again.

Ted Cruz. He was born in Calgary but through a loophole, or broken condom his American father put on or something like that he can become president. All I can say is I am glad they made this exception and he is not running for PM up here.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: There are lots of wonderful, inventive people that have changed the world. Let's celebrate the diversity of their origin stories.

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nahasvirginia · 2 years

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How do i enable java in firefox compatibility view

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW UPDATE#

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW ANDROID#

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW PRO#

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW PC#

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW WINDOWS#

Microsoft Edge is a fast and secure browser that's built for great web experiences, but to get the most out of it, you'll need to enable JavaScript – a popular programming language that's essential to nearly every action you take online.įrom logging in accounts to accessing window pop-ups and viewing animations, enabling JavaScript on your Microsoft Edge browser will allow you to have fun and fully featured browsing experience. Why do I need JavaScript enabled on Microsoft Edge?

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW ANDROID#

It is available for Windows, Mac, Android and iOS, among others.

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW UPDATE#

If you don’t have the latest Microsoft Edge version installed on your device, then you can simply update it from the Microsoft website. This guide will not be useful for users running the previous version (legacy) of Microsoft Edge browser. In this guide, we will provide you with the basics on JavaScript in Edge as well as how you can activate or disable it in no time. As with most modern browsers, Edge supports JavaScript, which is enabled by default to allow users to view dynamic features such as display ads and animations on web pages. Security and privacy are top priorities for Microsoft Edge as the browser comes with a bevy of powerful features such as tracking protection, phishing protection and some helpful extras. Powered by Google’s Chromium engine, Microsoft Edge combines an easy-to-use interface with modern web tech to provide users with speedy browsing experiences across a wide variety of platforms.

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW WINDOWS#

Recently I've started using a VPN on some of my devices as one way to implement better personal computing practices.But, it seems that some accounts I log into are used to me logging in from one of 2 or 3 IP addresses - so when I attempt to log in while u.Microsoft Edge is a new and lightweight internet browser developed by Microsoft Corporation as a replacement for Internet Explorer – the venerable browser that was a part of Windows operating systems since 1995. Are there security disadvantages to using a VPN? Security.So I've noticed a sharp incline in inbound spam recently and I noticed a very unusual new one.It has a few very specific characteristics that make it stand out from normal spam messages:1 - it contains real email reply threads2 - it contains real names of. Reply Threads + OneDrive link + file PWD Security

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW PRO#

Spark! Pro series – 25th March 2022 Spiceworks Originalsįor other uses, see Friday (disambiguation).

MOre is being learned about the Lapsus$ group, responsible for a number of recent cyberattacks. Lapsus$ suspects arrested for Microsoft, Nvidia, Okta hacks

Snap! Lapsus$, Excel RAT, Honda Hackers, Lunar Landers, Windows Easter Egg Spiceworks Originals.

#HOW DO I ENABLE JAVA IN FIREFOX COMPATIBILITY VIEW PC#

All our tech's can then remote desktop/control the PC without having to bloat their decent machines with all the old crap software. Impossible to do with a GUI (or at least much more cumbersome and slower) - additionally all these "flavours of the month" for GUI's, that appear and disappear over time are left in the dust when compared to tried and true COM/SSH/TELNET interfaces - let's list a few appalling GUI implementation mechanisms, for fun, shall we?:ġ) JAVA - horrendous almost leaves me speechless at how incompatible it is with modern browsers!Ģ) FLASH - doesn't work well with mobile devices like tablets (which are easier to lug around site than a laptop for fast troubleshooting)Ĥ) HTML5 - a step forward but still browser compatibility issues, so you find yourself flicking between IE10/11/Edge, Chrome, Firefox etc just to keep things running.īack to the OP's original problem, I sympathise and and considering building/repurposing a physical or virtual machine running XP and the earliest version of JAVA to manage HP 2600/2510 switches for tasks that are easier to perform in the GUI than SSH. You wait until you have to configure 3 or 20 switches or firewalls or something - only then you'll realise how powerful SSH/Telnet access is via something like PuTTY.Ĭopy and paste a config into notepad, tweak a few settings (such as the ip address of the switch), then "pow", paste that into a brand new, "out of the box" switch, save the settings, open up next new switch and rinse n' repeat.

#How do i enable java in firefox compatibility view

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imagineyourworld · 2 years

Text

The Paper

Steven Grant x Genderneutral!Reader, Marc Spector x Genderneutral!Reader (established relationship with both of them, though the fic focuses mostly on Steven)

Summary: You’re struggling with your term paper, luckily your boyfriends are there to cheer you up

Warnings: Talk of academic failure, self doubt

-------

By the time Steven came home you hadn’t gotten anything done. You had promised him a delicious dinner to celebrate the end of the week, you had promised yourself to write at least two pages for your paper. And you hadn’t managed either. Instead you had spent half the day scrolling aimlessly on your phone and the other half either staring at an almost blank document or writing, deleting, and rewriting the same two paragraphs. “Hello, love. How was your day?” Your boyfriend’s cheerful voice as he closed the door and removed his coat and shoes only made you feel worse. “Can we please just not talk about that?” The cheerfulness in his voice was replaced by something darker, something more concerned as he called from the bathroom. “That bad?” With a huff you finally closed your laptop, not even bothering to make sure the couple of sentences you had managed to write that day were saved, you knew you’d delete them the other day anyway. “The worst,” you sighed. “Why did I ever think studying history would be a good idea?” You turned around in your chair once the water stopped running and a moment later your boyfriend stepped out of the bathroom. As soon as you laid your eyes on him you regretted unloading all your crap on Steven. The dark circles under his eyes and frown on his lips spoke of yet another night with barely any sleep and a stressful day at work, and here you were complaining about writing a simple paper. “Because you love it,” Steven simply said. He walked over to you and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead before pulling your head towards him and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You instantly leaned into him, burying your face in his soft t-shirt. It smelled of lavender and something that you could not name, a scent that was just Steven. “I do. I love history, but why did I think it would be a good idea to quit my job, my job at a museum I might add, to go back to uni? It’s madness and I should have known better,” you mumbled into Steven’s torso. Instead of saying anything your boyfriend just pulled you even closer. For a while you stayed like that, breathing him in and enjoying a small moment of peace. “I didn’t even make you the special dinner I promised.” Steven pressed a kiss to your hair before letting go of you. That’s it, you thought. Now I have made him mad. Steven always does everything in his power to take care of my and I can’t even make a bloody dinner. He’s gonna leave. He’s gonna leave me because he finally realised just how much of a loser I am. You should have more faith in your boyfriend, because instead of leaving Steven got down on his knees in front of you so the two of you were eye to eye. “Who cares? We can get some takeaway. What about that Indian place we’ve been dying to try? Or maybe pasta?” Before you had the chance to say anything, Steven took both of your hands in his and began to rub soothing circles on your knuckles. “Why don’t you take a shower while I order the food?” Finally, you nodded. With a soft smile Steven lifted your hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on each one, causing you to smile as well, though yours was nowhere near as bright as his. “Steven?” Steven, who had already gotten up to look for his phone, turned around to look at you. “Yeah?” There was a fearful expression in his eyes, though you had no idea what it could mean. “Can I get extra naan bread?” As quick as it had come the fear vanished again. “Love, I’d buy you an entire bakery if I could.” For the first time that day the sound of laughter floated through the flat. How Steven always managed to lift your mood even on the worst of days you would never know. “Just the bread, please.”

-------

“The worst thing is that I actually am interested in the topic and it’s not like it’s the first paper I’ve written, I know I should be able to do this, but I just can’t. Every single word I write sounds wrong, I can’t make sense of my own notes, and I don’t even think I have a bloody hypothesis! What paper doesn’t have an hypothesis?” You had been rambling about your paper for almost fifteen minutes, all the time it had taken Steven to finish his food and for yours to go cold. “When is the deadline?” “At the end of the month, eleven days from now,” you mumbled while simultaneously trying to chew a gigantic load of curry and rice. “And you far you only have the introduction?” You nodded, still chewing. “That’s not that bad.” Finally you swallowed your food and were able to talk again. “Not that bad? Steven, I still need to write at least ten pages, ten incredible pages, and proofread and make a bibliography and I don’t even like what I have written so far.” Steven nodded. “You know, I’ve talked to Marc and we both think you’ve got this. You’re brilliant. After all, you managed to put up with Donna for years, how hard can a degree be after that torture?” His words put a slight smile to your face, and yet you shook your head. “Stevie, you guys have to say that, you’re my boyfriends. But my professor probably won’t agree. And I need a good grade, otherwise my entire average will be pulled down by this one paper.” Steven didn’t say anything, he simply reached across the table to take your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you walk me through everything you’ve written so far and we can go from there?” At first you nodded enthusiastically, Steven was bloody brilliant when it came to history. “And Marc said he could always threaten your professor to make sure you’ll pass. Though I think he was joking,” Steven said. Laughter burst past your lips. “I hope so. God, I don’t know what I would do without you guys.” You got up from your chair and walked over to Steven to engulf him in a tight hug, to which he replied by pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your middle. “You’d be just fine without us, you’re smart and funny and you underestimate yourself.” You didn’t know how to reply to that, so you simply didn’t. Instead you leaned against Steven, resting your head on his, his curls tickling your nose. “I love you,” you whispered. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss on your cheek. “I love you too.” “If I do fail you both owe me something. I was thinking ice cream.” Your boyfriend chuckled. “Or we’ll go to Italy for a weekend, to celebrate your amazing paper,” he proposed, his voice now slightly altered and American.

-------

This was nothing if not self indulgent and me procrastination writing my actual paper, hope you liked it anyway.

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x you #steven grant iimagine #Steven Grant #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x you #marc spector imagine #Moon Knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x you

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

The Framework is the most exciting laptop I've ever used

Update 22 Sept 2021: This article erroneously described the Framework laptop as the first system to receive a 10/10 from Ifixit. A few other laptops have received this rating. I regret the error.

The Framework laptop one of a very small number of systems to receive a 10/10 from Ifixit for repairability. But it’s no thick-as-a-brick throwback the size of a 2005 Thinkpad — it’s approximately the same dimensions as a MacBook.

https://frame.work/

Mine was delivered at the end of Aug. I got it set up by the first of September and have been using it ever since. Yesterday, I put my 2019 Thinkpad on my pile of “laptops to refurbish and donate.” I’ve bought a new Thinkpad almost every year since 2006. I think that’s over.

I switched to Thinkpads as part of my switch to Ubuntu, a flavor of GNU/Linux that was designed to be easy to use for laypeople. My Unix systems administration days were more than a decade behind me when I made the switch.

I loved Thinkpads…at first. Not only were they rugged as hell, but they had an incredible warranty. For about $150/year, IBM guaranteed that a service tech would come to your home or hotel room, anywhere in the world, within 24 hours, and fix your machine.

Prior to my Thinkpad switch, I’d been a Powerbook user and a prisoner to Applecare. I made a practice of buying two Powerbooks at a time and keeping them in synch so that when one inevitably broke down, I could leave it for weeks or months with Apple and use the other one.

I was a heavy traveller then (I was EFF’s European Director, on the road 27+ days/month — I even stopped plugging in my fridge because it was costing me $10/month to keep my ice-cubes frozen), and a dead laptop meant that I was beached, unable to do any work.

I loved Macos, but the Powerbooks were really shitty machines, with incredibly poor build quality and a captive repair chain that was run in a way that made it clear that its managers understood that its customers had no alternative.

Switching to Ubuntu was disorienting…at first. It was a lot like the time we renovated our kitchen and moved everything around, and I spent a month reaching for a cutlery drawer that wasn’t there. But then, one day, I just acclimated and never noticed it again.

So it was with OSes. If you’re noticing your OS, something’s wrong. With Ubuntu, I got a GUI that was similar enough to Macos that I could retrain myself, and when things went wrong, I had access to an (admittedly esoteric but) incredibly powerful suite of command-line tools.

This turned out to be an ideal combination. When everything worked, the UX was effectively identical to my Macos days. When things went wrong with my hardware, I never had more than 24h downtime — even when some of my RAM went bad while I was in Mumbai!

And when software got wonky — something that happened with the same approximate frequency as I experienced with Macos and when I was a CIO administering large heterogeneous networks of Mac/Win systems — the recovery tools were far superior.

But it wasn’t to last. IBM sold its Thinkpad division to Lenovo and everything started to go to shit. The actual systems acquired layers and layers of proprietary crap — secretive Nvidia graphics cards, strange BIOS rubbish — that made installing Ubuntu progressively harder.

The hardware got worse, too. When I lived in the UK, my Thinkpads always shipped with a UK keyboard. I’d order a US keyboard for <$20 on Ebay and swap it myself — I even managed it one-handed while holding my then-infant daughter in my arms. Took less than a minute.

By 2015, Thinkpads required a full disassembly with multiple specialized tools and tape-removal to fix the keyboards. Also, the keyboards got worse — I had to have three keyboard replacements in 2015, and I couldn’t perform any of them,

Things really came to a head in 2019. That was the year I bought and returned two Thinkpads because I couldn’t stabilize Ubuntu on them. The third, a giant, heavy Carbon X1, took three months and several bug-fixes by Lenovo’s driver team before it worked.

Still, I was ready to buy another Thinkpad by last spring. What else was I going to buy? I wanted something maintainable, and I loved the hardware mouse-buttons and the Trackpoint. But Lenovo was estimating 4–5 months to fulfill orders, so I closed the window and bailed.

Then I saw Ifixit’s teardown of a Framework laptop. They described a computer whose hardware was fully user-maintainable/upgradeable. The system opens with six “captive” screws (they stay in the case) and then every component can be easily accessed.

https://www.ifixit.com/News/51614/framework-laptop-teardown-10-10-but-is-it-perfect

There’s no tape. There’s no glue. Every part has a QR code that you can shoot with your phone to go to a service manual that has simple-to-follow instructions for installing, removing and replacing it. Every part is labeled in English, too!

The screen is replaceable. The keyboard is replaceable. The touchpad is replaceable. Removing the battery and replacing it takes less than five minutes. The computer actually ships with a screwdriver.

All this, without sacrificing size or power — it’s so similar to a Macbook that a friend who came over for dinner (and who knows about my feelings about proprietary Apple hardware) expressed shock that I’d switched to a Macbook!

The computer performs as well or better than my 2019 Thinkpad, but it doesn’t need the Thinkpad’s proprietary, ~$200 dock — a cheap, $60 device lets me easily connect it to all my peripherals and my desktop monitor, over USB-C. No drivers or configuration needed!

Installing Ubuntu was (nearly) painless. I had been loathe to upgrade the version of Ubuntu I was running on the Thinkpad, lest I kick off another cascade of brutal, tier-2 bug-hunting in the system’s proprietary drivers. As a result, I ran the 2018 “Long Term Support” OS.

When I installed Ubuntu on the Framework, I used the latest version — the Framework ships with a very up-to-date wifi card that the older version of Ubuntu couldn’t recognize. Then I simply dumped all my files over from a backup drive.

Jumping three years’ worth of OSes in one go, moving over my preferences and configuration files from a Thinkpad, did not work perfectly. A single trackpad config file didn’t play nice and I had to hunt it down and delete it, and then everything else was literally flawless.

The hardware is also nearly flawless, though I do have a few minor caveats. The computer ships disassembled: you have to open it and install your RAM, SSD, and wifi card. The first two were easy — the third was a major pain in the ass.

The standard wifi card antenna cables are absurdly fiddly, and the Framework documentation wasn’t clear enough to see me through. However, when I tweeted to the company about it, they responded swiftly with a video that demystified it.

https://twitter.com/FrameworkPuter/status/1433320060429373440

Another caveat. I really miss my Thinkpad Trackpoint (the little nub in the middle of the keyboard) and the three hardware mouse buttons on the trackpad. I’m finding it really hard to reliably hit the right region on my trackpad to get the left-, center- and middle-buttons.

I’ve drawn little hints on in sharpie, and I’m working with Canonical, who make Ubuntu, on remapping the button areas. But judging from the Framework forums, I’m not the only Thinkpad expat who’d like to swap the keyboard and trackpad.

But the good news is that if anyone wants to make that keyboard and trackpad, I can swap them in myself, in minutes, with one tool.

That tool — a small screwdriver — is also sufficient to upgrade the CPU or replace the screen, speakers, webcam, etc.

These are all just fine. The webcam and mic both come with hardware off-switches (not just covers, but actual electrical isolation switches that take them offline until you switch them back). The speakers are loud enough.

The screen is sharper than the one on my Thinkpad (though it’s glossier and a little harder to read in direct sunlight).

I haven’t even mentioned the ports! The Framework has four expansion ports that fit square dongles for HDMI, Ethernet, various USBs, etc.

The Framework site lets you buy as much or as little computer as you want. If you have your own RAM or SSD, you just uncheck those boxes. If you don’t bother with Windows (like me), you save $139–200.

https://frame.work/products/laptop-diy-edition/configuration/edit

Having used this system for nearly a month, I can unequivocally recommend it! However! Most of my use of this computer was from my sofa, while I was recovering from hip-replacement surgery. I haven’t road-tested it at all.

But I’ll note here that if it turned out that a component failed due to my usual rough handling, I could replace it with a standard part in a matter of minutes, myself, in whatever hotel room I happened to be perching in, using a single screwdriver.

It’s been a long time since I owned a computer that was more interesting with its case off than on, but the Framework is a marvel of thoughtful, sustainable, user-centric engineering.

It puts the lie to every claim that portability and reliability can’t coexist with long-lasting, durable, upgradeable, sustainable hardware.

I started buying a new laptop every year as a reward to myself for quitting smoking.

https://doctorow.medium.com/i-quit-9ae7b6010c99

The environmental consequences of that system weren’t lost on me, even given my very good track-record of re-homing my old computers with people who needed them.

But with the Framework, I’m ready to change that policy.

From now on, I can easily see myself upgrading the CPU or the screen on an annual basis, or packing in more RAM. But the laptop? Apart from the actual chassis falling apart, there’s no reason I’d replace it for the whole foreseeable future.

This is a beautiful, functional, sustainable, thoughtful and even luxurious (Framework offers a 2TB SDD, while Lenovo has been stuck at 1TB drives for years and years) computer.

Based on a month’s use, I am prepared to declare myself a Framework loyalist, and to retire my last Thinkpad…forever.

#pluralistic

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)

i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 3k

warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”

“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.” “Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”

You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.

“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.

“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”

“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”

Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.

Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.

Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.

“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.

“I’m suing them. All of them.”

“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.

“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.

“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.

“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”

“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”

“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”

His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.

You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.

You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.

Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.

“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.

“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.

“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.

“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.

Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.

“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.

“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.

The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.

“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.

Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.

“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.

“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.

“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.

The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.

“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.

“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”

Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.

“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”

“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.

“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”

“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”

“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.

“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”

You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.

“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.

“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”

A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.

“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.

You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.

“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”

Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.

“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.

You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.

You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.

“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.

His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.

“Ready to feel good?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.

“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.

He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.

His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.

“Never, Darling.”

And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.

When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.

Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“ “No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.

When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.

“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”

“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.

“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.

“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles never have i ever #harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x actress!reader

1K notes · View notes

candyflosstoxicity · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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