#language machine broke
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Marrying Carter in Harvest Moon DS Cute! (North American version)
oh… sorry no not the archaeologist, i mean Pastor Carter from Mineral Town!
(or is it Pastor Curdy….?)
teeechnically his descendant, and it causes a game over… but this is the only time we’ve been able to marry him right?
so in the girl version of HMDS, there’s two “secret” Mineral Town bachelors that you can marry by talking to them enough times on the phone. one is Mason, the guy who runs May’s Tailoring… but the second, Pastor Carter, is a bit more obscure…
i couldn’t find them uploaded anywhere so here are his 2nd* thru 10th conversations+his proposal+proposal rejection in english! if you want to see it on youtube instead here you go
*i failed to record the first conversation when it happened, and there’s no way in hell i’m resetting my whole game again (…yet), so…just know the first one was like “oh you want to talk? what should we talk about…….. …… ….. …. i can’t think of anything. well see ya………” extremely riveting stuff
he’s so obscure that i didn’t even realize that he was a bachelor until i found out about the mechanic from this japanese wiki!! (here’s an archive link to the page on him in case the page doesn’t work) all i did was test whether it worked in english since i couldn’t find any english info at all mentioning it. i’m sure others have found him… right……..
in case the links above don’t work, a small guide to holy matrimony below the cut since i can’t find one in english
it works essentially the same as the Mason marriage (so it’s just a game over, sadly…), and the steps are pretty tedious and counterintuitive, so you’re unlikely to just stumble across it… but you too can get a priest to break his vow of celibacy for you or whatever!
you will need:
at least 2,050,000 G
20 cursed tools/accessories
if you really don’t want to dig up 20 cursed things you can substitute 100x “remove a cursed tool/accessory” for blessing a cursed tool…
but, including all the cursed tools and accessories, there’s only 16… which means you will need to go dig up 4 duplicate cursed accessories using this method! yay!!! extremely pointless since you can’t sell blessed accessories until after marriage in DS for girl (at which point you can’t trigger pastor carter’s proposal)
you unlock a conversation with cardi when you spend at least 205,000 G. which means the quickest thing to do is to order removal of a cursed item five times, then bless 2 cursed items.
**be careful when blessing accessories to only equip one at a time!!! if you equip a stack of duplicate accessories, blessing that stack destroys the duplicates!!!! :( so just take 1 out of the stack and equip it!!!**
you also can’t unlock more conversations until you’ve seen the one you unlocked, so like even if you spend a million G you’ll just unlock one conversation, and you’ll need to finish that conversation and then spend 205,000 G to unlock the next one…yeah….
on the tenth conversation he abruptly reveals that he’s fallen in love with you and asks you to marry him! it ends your game, but….! on the bright side, it ends your game!!! you’re finally free from Hell Simulator!!!!
#my art#why is his name localized as CURDY…..#i was making fun of it being cardi in the japanese version but……. CURDY#bokumono#harvest moon#story of seasons#harvest moon ds#harvest moon ds:cute#harvest moon ds cute#hmds#hmds cute#pastor carter#now everyone knows i always name my farm ram ranch. shameful#ladies……. he’s broke and possibly an alcoholic….(can we save him?)#the proposal really comes out of nowhere lmao#i’m sorry i’m still not over this his name is CURDY…… aaaaaaaagh#pastor carter is such a funky little guy to me. i have him in my acnh town he has a basement full of flame machines and a single wheelchair#why did the video crop like that when i appended the recordings together. i’m getting so old#sorry for the excessive babygirlism my tablet works again and i went a little ham#of course marrying a man of god causes the game to end. since the programming language for hmds is ancient evil curses#heh….. hex code
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good morning to the sweet norwegian barista girl who recognised me from yesterday cause i was 'the girl with the cool make up' and said she loves my style and to that sweet norwegian barista girl only.
#i dont wanna leave :(#saw a picture of a wrocław street on a friend's instagram story and threw up in my mouth a little#i wanna stay in norway forever and ever ill learn the language i promise just let me stay. ill start crying in 3 2 1#lmaooo ok their espresso machine broke and my friends aremt getting their coffee. she already made mine tho so i am <3333
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You ever frustrate yourself so badly over not being able to properly explain something you want to cry?
#amarambles#personal#i am :'''''')#is it a language thing?#me being incapable of expressing myself 100% out of pointless fear?#I dont know how to explain what Im feeling#broke machine
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when the virtue machine fucking broke............
#titus livius hashtag sallustcore moments virtue machine broke understandable have a nice battle of the allia#when you're a roman envoy and you commit the Big Moral Crime of not being neutral and fighting alongside the etruscans#and livy describes it in extra super virtuous language even as it is extremely in no way virtuous......#'tantum eminebat peregrina virtus' like 'so much did the foreign (as in they are romans among etruscans) virtue shine forth'#but also ouhfoghuouhgohgf what if hashtag roman virtue Was No Longer Roman even at the moment that it was its most#blatantly roman and blatantly virtuous#this is so sexy sallust recite the bellum catilinae#hashtag ben jonson secretly translating lucan to describe the battle of pistoria They Knew Not What A Crime Their Valour Was#virtue machine BROKE#livy#beeps
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Just scrolled past six fic recs/prompt posts for Seal Buck who is very traumatized and or bamf saving the 118 when they find out about his cool secret life before joining the 118.
On the one hand, I'm glad I don't have to wade these fics with Eddie, the character that actually joined the army and went to war. Not . . . drop out of training cause he was too emotional. Cause the show has given me the survivals guilt plot (yay show!) and I don't think I could handle so many fics with Chris losing his dad in some way.
But on the other, my god, I think the fandom has made me tired of Buck. I don't even like Buddie all that much anymore lol.
#I'm just so tired of Buck now#Season five broke me#can we just focus on anyone else for a while#Dear god how can Buck both be a well trained killing machine able to speak four different languages including russian#but also able to be taken out by a regular stalker who can get the jump on him at a fire#a fire! The one place Buck should actually be paying attention to his surroundings and be on top of everything!#And how is it Eddie that's the huasband/lover who stays home and worries when Buck is called back to active duty to get lost/kidnapped
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i think a lot about the "brain hacking" aspect of mind control
i don't just mean tech control and brain chips and stuff, although those are super fun!! but it's more like... the idea that you can exploit the human brain is just. on my mind frequently
imagine if one day we discovered a visual pattern or something that could totally hijack your mind. like it just tickled all the right neurons that it triggered some sort of cascade and broke you wide open, leaving you suggestible and pliant
i think a major reason this is on my mind so often is because it's the sort of thing that would be LITERALLY impossible to resist. like what are you gonna do?? for a psychological process you can struggle, hold out, fight, but for a neurological process you just. snap. gone. there's also this clinical aspect to it, where you're sort of treated like a machine; a bundle of neurotransmitters that can be sparked in a way that's just proper, and then reprogrammed
so basically i just get sooo weak when inductions use this kind of language. even if it's complete nonsense it just!! it calls forth this imagery when a spiral is described not just as a focus but as a stimulator or something like that, and when its mechanism is described. hell, it doesn't even have to go for the neurological stuff- isn't it really really hot and squirm inducing when you're being TOLD how you're being hypnotized? like the opposite of covert stuff, when the hypnotist is just calmly explaining to you all the complex things they're doing to your mind and you're just too zoned out to even clock that you're being put under control
(also hi!! i'm posting again :D thanks to everyone who's still hanging around ily!! send me asks abt things and i'll have fun answering them!!)
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How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars
This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.
On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.
In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":
https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/
Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.
But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.
The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.
So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.
Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.
I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.
So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.
I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.
I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:
https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james
Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:
https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence
LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:
https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language
But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.
The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."
Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.
Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."
Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":
https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit
LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.
Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.
What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.
We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.
Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.
Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.
As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."
Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers
Image:
Cryteria (modified)
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
#pluralistic#chatbots#plausible sentence generators#robot lawyers#robolawyers#ai#ml#machine learning#artificial intelligence#stochastic parrots#bullshit#bullshit generators#the bullshit wars#llms#large language models#writing#Ben Levinstein
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Escarmiento: Part Two- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader
a/n- i have no clue how his fangs or venom work, but just pretend like how i wrote it makes sense. also, this is very long but i didn’t want to write three parts :^
warnings- smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, paralytic venom, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass
translations at the bottom!
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Colors flashed in your peripheral as you darted alongside Miles, your arms burning from the amount of swings you had to pull off, just to get some distance between the hundreds of people around you.
Sure, running may not have been the smartest thing to do, but, you did have a plan. It wasn’t the easiest to pull off, and you’d probably end up being berated by Miguel, but Miles was your priority, and your husband was usually a sane man when it came to you. Usually.
As if he wanted to prove your logic wrong, Miguel’s yells rang from behind you, his voice laced with pure anger as you slipped from his grasp a multitude of times. You were both very fast, but he was a monster. It was like trying to escape death, his claws almost catching your suit, the image of his fangs gleaming in your memories.
“Miles!” you yelled to the boy swinging a few feet ahead of you, his body stalling for you to sync with his movements. “We’ll draw them out-” you panted, your surroundings becoming familiar, recognizable to the entrance of headquarters, “-and when they’re gone, get to the machine, and go home.”
Web after web shot at you, red and blue of all kinds clouding your vision as you maneuvered around gloved hands and swinging limbs. “Y/n,” that familiar voice shouted again, trying to pull your attention away from the obstacles in front of you. “Stop running-” you heard Miguel growl under his breath, the ear splitting sound of shredding steel hitting your senses as he literally tore through walls to get to you.
He had never ever scared you before, but with his feral strength directed at you instead of a casual villain, true fear coaxed its way through your veins. You were his prey. That’s the thought that repeatedly flashed in your mind. He was hunting you and there was inevitably, no escape.
Flicking your wrist, your webbing shot to the upper beams above the training area, pulling you through the air, a panicking Miles right at your side. That particular choice was probably not the best decision, a horde of waiting spider people coming into sight as soon as you appeared through the floor.
Interrupting the frozen crowd, two glowing webs broke through the air to pull a very rage filled Miguel up after you, your feet stepping back to scurry in the opposite direction towards the glistening wall of windows. You could feel him right at your heels, his breathing ragged, a whoosh of air hitting your back, the only explanation being his claws trying to swipe at you.
Dropping into a perch-like position, you ducked a particularly harsh swing, Miguel’s body already moving too fast to stop, his large form smashing through a lower window. Miles went right along with him, leaving you to a room of people just itching to please their boss. That was until your foot was pulled from under you, a familiar web wrapped around your ankle pulling your body to the floor and out the shattered window.
You’d never gotten used to free falling, your stomach wound in knots as the air whipped past you, your wrist helplessly flailing to find some kind of structure to attach to. The web stuck to your ankle was tugged, harshly, pulling you down towards none other than your husband.
Miles was lone gone, his own fleet of spiders chasing him down, leaving you to fend for yourself. Shooting your web to a passing car, your body was caught between two forces, Miguel watching as you cried out in pain, a frustrated groan leaving his lips as he cut his web loose, letting you go. You knew that’d make him buckle, see, he didn’t want to hurt you, no, he just wanted to catch you.
Slinging to the flying car, you were glued to the roof, eyes peeled to search for Miles, your sense lighting up at the sound of Miguel hurling himself from car to car to get to you. A yelp left your lips as two sets of web-patterned arms wrapped around you, one set grabbing your legs to pin you, the other holding your midriff, squeezing all the air from your lungs. Your legs helplessly kicked against them, body bucking in their hold to get away until a rough yell resounded. “Leave her,” Miguel shouted, his fangs extending, eyes tracking their hold on you. “Ella es mía.”
Squirming out of their grasp, you swung to the train-like contraption holding the roadway, Miguel’s suit in your peripheral, his form hurtling towards you, leaving no room to escape. You landed first, crawling along the top of the silver train, Miguel’s claws scratching behind, tearing the metal in their wake.
“Miguel, please-” you panted, your eyes wide as they looked down at him, his mask dissolving to reveal crimson eyes and furrowed eyebrows set on you. “He’s just a kid,” you pleaded, your muscles aching with exhaustion as you climbed away from him. A growl left the lips of your lover, his unbeaten endurance still strong, claws pulling him right towards you and your struggling form.
His hand closed around your ankle, pulling you down until his arms caged you, your back was pressed to his broad chest, hands pinned down by his own, preventing you from using your webs. “All you had to do was listen,” he muttered in your ear, a pained gasp leaving your lips as four sharp prongs sank into your neck, his fangs burying themselves into your skin. Warm liquid flowed from them, eliciting a burning sensation throughout your limbs that slowly turned into numbness.
You could still talk and move, albeit barely, most likely because your husband didn’t want you completely paralyzed, but you couldn’t escape his grasp, his strong arms lifting you until you were slung over his shoulder, lax limbs completely subject to his movements.
“Lyla, send everyone after Miles,” his voice was gruff as he swung off the train, you in one arm, his weight carried by a web in the other, “I’ll handle her.”
———
By the time the paralytic venom wore off, you found yourself at the door of your shared bedroom, Miguel grabbing you from his shoulder and pushing you inside, your legs wobbling slightly from the strange sensation. Shutting it suspiciously lightly, Miguel rested his forehead against the cold panels of the door, your weak legs already positioning you at the other end of the room.
“Miguel, I- I was just trying to help..”
His body went taut at your words, his back rigid, muscles shifting as he turned to look at you. You almost cowered at the sight of him, his eyes a deeper red than you’ve ever seen, his lips pulling back to reply, revealing four-sharp teeth still extended.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his pupils dilating into a deep black, almost consuming his whole iris. “All you needed to do was listen to me, and you went and disobeyed a direct order.”
“You’re my husband, not my master..” you muttered under your breath, his breath catching at your little retort, anger lacing his features. “He’s just a kid, Miguel, you’re being too harsh.”
“Harsh..?” He went still at your words, an exasperated laugh leaving his lips as his eyebrows rose. “I’ll show you harsh,” he said under his breath, shoulders squaring to show his full height, long legs making their way to you in easy strides. Your mouth went dry at his words, feet stepping carefully to back away from him, his approaching steps pushing you further and further until your back hit the wall.
“Miguel wait-” your words were cut off as his large hand closed around your wrist, wrenching you towards the bed, your heels digging into the ground. With a battle of limbs, you found yourself atop his knees, your stomach pressing against his strong legs, his fingers gently caressing your bottom. Your hips wiggled, legs struggling to get away at the implication of his hand. “You can’t run now, cariño,” he growled, sharp claws cutting through the fabric of your suit exposing your ass and legs to his preying eyes.
Long fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your soft skin, fingers tracing every inch, his touch disappearing for a second before returning in the form of a harsh slap, a yelp leaving your lips at the scorching sensation blooming along your bottom.
His hand continued its assault, your legs shaking in his hold. “Poca pucha, just couldn’t listen could you,” he gritted out, palm smacking and smacking relentlessly until your ass was flaming red, choked cries spewing from your lips as you pleaded for him to stop.
He didn’t listen though, every spank leaving a new mark on your skin, red handprints painting your bottom half as your hands clawed at his ankles. “M-Miguel please! I’m s-sorry,” you squirmed, hips bucking until he landed a particularly rough slap against your skin. “Stay still,” he grunted, hands pushing your hips down as he repeatedly spanked you, tears rolling down your cheeks and onto his lap.
You were hiccuping now, so distressed your cries caught in your throat, your bottom raw and red, so sore it stung, the feeling of fire consuming you with even the smallest touch. His hand relented when he heard you muttering ‘i’m sorry’ like a mantra, the rough pads of his fingers gently massaging your inflamed bottom.
Miguel tutted at your soft cries, rubbing your skin as his other hand spread your legs. “Mírate-” he whispered, fingers dipping to scoop up your liquids, spreading your folds, “puta chorrea.” Without any preparation, he stuffed two fingers into your cunt, a choked gasp leaving your lips as he immediately started to curl his fingers into you, throwing you straight into the grasps of pleasure it was almost painful.
His thick fingers nudged at every pleasurable spot inside of you, your walls sucking him in greedily despite your current distaste of your husband. Every curl and poke elicited a whine from you, your body shivering as it neared climax, cunt pulsing around his fingers as a tell tale sign. Before you could release, Miguel pulled his fingers from you, large hands grabbing your waist to throw you on the bed.
You couldn’t even process the loss of pleasure before he was tearing the rest of your suit off and pushing your back into an impossible arch, your inflamed ass stuck in the air as his hands grabbed onto your hips. “Wait Mig-” all air was pushed out of your lungs as he sheathed himself in you with one thrust, the stretch causing a burn to ignite in your cunt.
His palm never left your back as he thrusted in and out at a brutal pace, soft groans leaving his lips, his strong legs slamming into the back of your thighs. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, your mewls and pleas muffled by the pillow Miguel shoved your face into, his fingers cradling the crown of your head to keep you still.
His cock was so thick and long, you felt it hit an unknown area every time he pushed into you, and without normal foreplay, the stretch was insane. Your walls pulsed with the struggle to take him, the ring of muscles at the entrance of your cunt visible as it wrapped around his shaft to suck him in.
Caught up in pleasure himself, Miguel leaned down to cage you in his arms, chest pressed to your back in a primal, animal-like position, his muscled arms placed on both sides of your head, hips never relenting with their intense thrusts.
“Too harsh, arañita?” he whispered into your ear, his teeth pulling at your earlobe, lips sucking at your neck as you trembled beneath him, your voice too hoarse from crying to respond. Heavy balls slapped against your cunt, Miguel’s thrusts becoming harder as you recognized his own tells of an orgasm. His ab muscles rippled against your back, his claws started to emerge, his breathing turned ragged, and he always kissed somewhere on your body, this time being your shoulder.
Groaning into the nook of your shoulder and neck, Miguel released inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum painting every inch of your cunt, his hips stuttering to push every last drop into you while you tipped over the edge, your climax small and sudden, cunt sucking his juices in as you released your own, clenching around his spent cock.
Catching his breath, Miguel pulled out of you slowly, ears catching the pained whimper you let out, eyes looking down to watch as his white liquid poured from your hole. Your hips slumped and rested against the bed, your face still hidden by the pillow as you caught your breath, exhausted and extremely sore.
It was like he’d been clouded with lust and anger the whole time, because as he looked at your trembling form, the clear feeling of guilt consumed him. As careful as possible, he collected as many soothing ingredients he could find from the bathroom; a cold washcloth, calming lotion, and water all included.
Kneeling on the bed, his hands gently moved to prop your hips up, a choked out ‘no’ leaving your lips, your fear quickly extinguished by his soft, cooed words. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, wiping the washcloth along your irritated folds and your inner thighs, cleaning up any excess liquids. Taking your reddened bottom into his hands, he smoothed and rubbed lotion onto you, the tender skin of your ass slowly becoming soothed by the cool substance.
Kissing up your spine, Miguel stroked your hair, his hand tilting your head to be able to see your face, his heart dropping at the sight of your red eyes, tear stained cheeks, and lack of speaking. “Oh- mi amor..” he murmured, strong arms pulling you onto his chest (careful not to nudge your bottom) as he rubbed your back, a quiet sigh leaving your lips at the feeling.
“I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you,” his voice was filled with regret, leaving a kiss to your head as you hummed your agreement. “I-” he pursed his lips, releasing a sigh as he struggled to say a certain admission, “I may have been a little too harsh on him.”
A breathy laugh resounded against his chest, your hoarse voice a relief to his ears as your tired eyes looked up to meet his own, “you think?”
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ella es mía- she’s mine
cariño- sweetheart
poca pucha- little cunt
mírate- look at you
puta chorrea- fucking dripping
arañita- little spider
mi amor- my love
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel smut#miguel o’hara imagine#spiderman across the spiderverse#atsv miguel#why cant he be real
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ceo! ellie - 3
what if a broke uni student met the ceo of one of the most impactful companies right now? without her even knowing?
lowercase is intentional
read part 1 aaaand part 2 right here ! xx
"good to see you, ellie."
"hey dina."
ellie lightly said, giving her lawyer a hug. she in fact was relived to see the silghtly older woman sitting in her office chair, smiling ever so lightly.
"what's the news?"
the ceo asked, lighting herself a cigarette before loosening the hair tie that hold her bun together. she looked at the slightly older woman with confused eyes.
"good or bad news first?"
"good i guess?"
she sat down besides dina to have a look at the lawyers screen, like she would understand all the paragraphs and lawyer language she had all over her desktop.
it‘s been a while since ellie and dina had so much to discuss. when ellie became ceo, they would talk every day, also about non business topics. sometimes they both wonder how they grew apart like this.
"good news is, we will not get sued!"
dina exclaimed, clapping her hands slightly. she threw an encouraging smile at ellie.
"the client is mad, however.. they have a different way for you to make up for it. so the bad news is-"
"let me guess, our yearly charity event should be in honor to them instead of joel?“
the blackhaired woman raised an eyebrow.
"i mean, yeah kinda. they want to be more represented.“
ellie got up from her seat and walked around the office. the smoke of her cigarette hugging her face every time she blew it out.
„did i ever mention how i despise abby sometimes?“
„like every other day.“
dina just laughed it off, she knew how much of an temper ellie could have - and over the years it got just worse.
„no like, seriously. ever since joel died in that car crash i have to deal with her bullshit and i can‘t do anything because they are the biggest client we have!“
and here it goes. ellie threw her cigarette in the ashtray before slumping on her office chair again.
joels death resulted in her taking his place - being the ceo of miller enterprises. and as much as she loved the money and the big cars and the responsibility, she also hated it. none of this is her‘s, it‘s joels. he did all the work, she just had to be next in line.
he had adopted her years after his daughter has passed away due to an medical condition. to say the least, ellie was a rough child and teen. she was loud, sarcastic and had her own will. of course she would listen to joel, after all he wad the only parental figure she had ever have.
„it‘s almost five years now.“
she mumbled, looking at her desk.
ellie hated christmas season and winter. she hated the snow and the beautiful lights. she hated it because it reminded her of him. of the call from dina, the hours in the hospital, the beeping sound of the machine that so desperately tried to keep him alive.
„i know.“
dina added, leaning against ellie’s table. she gave her a encouraging smile.
„how about we start the planning tomorrow? go home and have a good nights rest.“
and so ellie left the office with a small goodbye to dina and went back to her car. she sat down in the drivers seat. as much she loved her car, she didn’t want to drive.
tears slowly build up in her eyes, but she quickly swallowed it when she saw an unfamiliar book on the passenger seat. a book about.. the human psyche ?
you must have forgotten it when ellie dropped you off at home.
„damn it.“
she said under her breath and whipped out her phone, calling your number immediately. and to her surprise you picked up very fast.
„hey ellie! are you okay ?“
your voice was so gentle, ellie was about to die from it’s sweetness.
„hey dear. yeah don’t worry. uh- you forgot your book in my car. need me to drop it off ?“
there was some noise on the background, sounding like you fumbling around in your bag to find it.
„that would be great, ellie. i‘ll make up for it.“
she smiled, starting her engine and looking up your adress from her recent routes.
„i will be there in 20! see ya, ______!“
and off she went, excitement now building up.
.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
„hey, thank you so much.“
you smiled, waiting on your doorstep, still in the same hoodie, but with pyjamas pants below now.
„no worries.”
“are you free? i can cook you some dinner. you know, to make up for you having to drive here again?“
now ellie smiled but shook her head.
„no, it‘s fine. don‘t worry.“
„ellie, c‘mon. let me do something for you as well!“
and how could she say no to some with a pretty face like yours?
so she agreed, and you lead her up the stairs to your apartment. it was small but lovely and well decorated. scented candles burned in the hallway and the living room was dimly lit with a lap and the led strips behind your running tv.
„it‘s not much but it‘s affordable - for an uni student at least.“
you smiled before going to your kitchen counted which was connected to your living room.
„what do you mean? it‘s pretty!“
ellie eyes the nerdy figurines on your shelves and the pictures on your walls while you grabbed two wine glasses from your shelf.
„are you fine with a cheap rose?“
you asked her as you opened your fridge. ellie looked at you and just felt all the weight of her work falling off her shoulders. she felt.. normal. like you. oh, how she wished to be an uni student, living her best life in an small apartment instead of leading people and having responsibilities beyond imagination.
of course, she did not have to worry about bills or anything. but money and power doesn’t buy happiness. this does.
„absolutely!“
she sat down on one of your kitchen chairs and watched you pour in the wine with a smile.
„thank you dear.“
she said so softly your knees got weak. and you smiled, letting your glass softly hit hers before taking a sip, not breaking eye contact.
„so, i can offer you: noodles with green pesto, noodles with red pesto, or i can try my luck with a mushroom risotto. additionally, i can also make a side salad.“
you smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter. ellie hadn’t felt this carelessness and even happiness in a while. after all, she never had this.
„risotto sounds amazing.“
she smiled, watching you sigh in despair.
„of course you choose the hardest dish. will not guarantee that it will be good!“
you reached for a pan and put out all ingredients; mushrooms that would have to leave your fridge soon anyways, risotto rice, onion and garlic. the simplicity as so beautiful to ellie.
„let me help.“
and so she cut the mushrooms and washed the rice while you took care of the onions and garlic. the two of you laughed and made fun of each other’s cutting skills while emptying your wine glasses and watching the risotto take form.
„that‘d actually pretty bomb!“
you exclaimed while taking the first bite, already half way down on the second wine glass.
„ellie, we are a great team in the kitchen!“
ellie smiled, agreeing with you.
„like hell, we are!“
you spend your dinner laughing and talking about all sorts of things. friends, memories, drunk accidents that were embarrassing. it felt so light to finally not have business talks with people she couldn’t care less about.
after washing the dishes, and pouring a third glass of wine, you took the conversation to your small but comfortable couch.
and it got late, waaaay too late. and the snow kept falling, causing the streets to be white.
„you shouldn’t be driving home tonight.“
you said, looking at the streets while ellie smoked a cigarette on your balcony.
„nah, i will be fine. i don’t want to take up your space.“
„no ellie, i mean it. we drank, it‘s snowy. it would be better for you to sleep here.“
after a while of convincing, she finally agreed, snapping her cigarette off your balcony.
„and you get to spend more time with me. feel honoured!“
you joked, not knowing that it was exactly what she wanted. to spend more time with you, in this carefree environment. where she can be herself, where she can be just ellie and doesn‘t have to be ellie williams - ceo of miller enterprises.
after finishing the last glass of wine, you decided to call it a night. you gave ellie a hoodie from your closet and a pair of pyjama pants before brushing your teeth in the bathroom and doing your daily skincare. when you returned, you laughed a little. she looked so cute in your huge uni hoodie and the fluffy pj pants.
„why are you laughing?!“
„im just used to seeing you in business clothing. but this is adorable!“
she rolled her eyes and took the spare toothbrush you held in her direction.
„fuck off !“
one more laughter left your throat before you prepared the bed for two. luckily it was big enough. although your couch was comfortable, it was small and most likely would break either your or ellies back when sleeping a night on it.
so you shared a bed. after all, thats nothing to worry about, right?
both of you kind of awkward tugged in before facing each other. the wine did make all of this less awkward. once again you noticed how pretty ellie was. the freckles and little eyebrow scar.. her long lashes that made her green eyes even prettier, her auburn hair that hugger her face perfectly.. she was perfect.
and she thought the same about you. her hand reached out to your face and tugged a piece of your hair behind your ear. oh how she wanted to kiss you - yet she didn’t, not knowing you wanted it too.
“good night, ellie.”
“night, ______.”
.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
THERE WE GOOOOO. different from what i wanted, but i hope you enjoy ✧*:.｡.
part 4 is here ! ! bye bye xx
taglist: @harrysslutsstuff @vwonnie @mikaaj @elliewilliamsgf69 @weridcattty @feelsoseencantdream @honeymoonbbie @katymae12344 @aouiaa @bbglmfao
#ceo ! ellie#ellie williams tlou#tlou ellie#ellie williams#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie tlou2#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams the last of us#the last of us part 2#tlou2 ellie#ellie x reader
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The Taste of Shame
[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]
[ warnings: mention of sex working, sexual tension ]
[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients - however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. It turns out that what he wants and what he doesn't no longer matter when he meets his friend's younger sister for the first time. Slow burn, sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]
Series & Characters Moodboard
Aemond NSFW Alphabet
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
Until he met Criston and Robert at university he was a total loner, really only going to classes and shopping. Ever since he moved out of his family home, he didn't feel the need to interact with anyone except his mother and his youngest brother.
Nonetheless, once their quantum physics professor selected them as a group to tackle a joint project in his class, it turned out that they got along very well.
He was quiet and withdrawn, best at solving equations and finding the correct formulae; Robert threw interesting, chaotic insights and ideas from his sleeve, and Criston pulled it all together to form a whole.
They scored the highest possible grade and from then on they naturally stuck together; Robert and Criston didn't seem to mind that he usually didn't contribute to their discussions, simply allowing him to be in their company with a cardboard cup of coffee from the vending machine.
They often asked him where he got his money from, since, according to him, his parents did not help him financially to live in a completely different city. He usually answered evasively, feeling a squeeze in his throat in those moments, a fear that one day they would somehow find out how he made his living.
What he was doing.
That women paid him to tie them up, to beat them, to slap them, to degrade and humiliate them, to fuck them in ways he wouldn't even be able to explain, taking unspeakable satisfaction from it.
He was a professional; he signed contracts that included each party's boundary and safety words. He expected his clients to have medical examinations to make sure they didn't carry any diseases, but he used condoms anyway.
He rented a bedsit intended as a meeting place, with no intention of hosting anyone in his flat; his main rule was not to get emotionally involved, apart from having sex and entitling himself that his client was comfortable, he did not get into any conversations with them even though they tried to do so.
It started with one woman, Alys, who he met when he graduated from high school; it turned her on when he tied her up, when he fucked her while telling her she was a nobody, when he punished her and it shocked him what a tremendous sense of power it gave him.
She told him admiringly that he could be a professional dom and earn a lot from it, which gave him pause for thought. To her despair, he ended their relationship shortly after he started doing it for money, recognising that he didn't want to break his rule about not having a relationship, where she already knew far too much about him.
He was more careful with others.
They called him sir and knew nothing about him except what they read on the website.
He admired in a way how desperate some of them were, how much they were balancing on the edge of overdoing it; in a few cases he had to check their pulse to make sure he hadn't killed them.
His clients were not poor women and sometimes, for extra things or to show him their admiration, they paid him more than what they had agreed for; however, he never accepted excess money, knowing that if he broke the rules they would think they could expect more from him, which he was unwilling to allow.
So, for obvious reasons, he kept his profession to himself, fearing that if his friends found out about it they would think he was just fucked up. He genuinely liked them, as well as the field of study he was attending, and didn't want to change anything in his life.
When Robert invited him and Criston to his house for his birthday he agreed immediately, seeing no obstacles to celebrating with him; he knew that apart from him and Criston there would be a few more friends from his neighbourhood and he was fine with that.
When he got his car into his driveway he decided to have a smoke before going inside, tired after a long, intense session with his female client, wanting to clear his mind.
That's when he heard her for the first time.
"Are you Robert's friend?!"
He looked over his shoulder and saw her − she had jumped off the blue slim bike with the white basket in the front. Her hair was loose and in a slight disarray due to the wind, her face pink from exertion, her full lips parted slightly in a quickened breath, her large eyes shining with curiosity.
He felt everything he saw in his cock, looking at her pale, with his eyes imagining her moaning beneath him with that pleading, sweet voice to keep fucking her.
"− yeah −" He hummed in a slightly trembling voice, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, trying to hide what was happening to him, in what direction to his horror his thoughts had fled.
"That's wonderful! I'm Robert's sister. I forgot to buy candles for his cake, which was rather unfortunate considering it's his birthday and I had to go quickly to get them." She said breathing heavily as she walked with her bicycles deeper into the driveway, looking at him expectantly over her shoulder. "Do you have a lighter?"
He couldn't play the idiot and pretend he didn't have one, so, as she requested, they went around her house and walked inside from the terrace, walking quietly to the kitchen − he could hear the voices of Robert, Criston and the other guests in the distance.
She opened the fridge, which illuminated her pleasant, smiling face with a bright, bluish light, and slowly pulled out a meringue cake with a cucumber glaze decorated with berries.
"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I was making it for the first time. Can you help me?" She asked lightly, pulling candles from the pocket of her dress.
He just nodded, feeling his mind working in slow motion, his heart pounding like mad, his mind focused on her body and on her scent, some sweet, girly fruity perfume.
He thought, swallowing loudly, that she was like a ripe peach or strawberry, begging to be bitten into, to taste its flesh.
He pressed his lips together, sticking the last candle into the crisp texture of the meringue, thinking with despair that he was a disgusting man, that she was his friend's younger sister.
And above all, she was not his client.
He handed her a lighter; their faces lit up by the warm glow of the fire as she began to light the candles one by one. She smiled at him when she finished in a way that made him feel like saying he didn't give a shit about the candles, the cake and Robert's birthday − just to pull her panties off her legs and fuck her on the countertop.
"Let's go." She said warmly and he nodded, letting out the air from his lungs, watching her with a look that, had it not been for the darkness in the room, would surely have terrified her.
They walked into the living room; his sister began to sing a Happy Birthday loudly and the other guests joined her in chorus, Robert stood up embarrassed but clearly pleased. After a round of applause, he walked over to them and blew out the candles, saying happily that his little sister remembered how he loved the meringues and hugged her.
He lowered his gaze at the thought that they were close.
That he needed to pull himself together.
When Robert offered him a drink he immediately agreed, distraught and terrified at the thought of spending the whole evening in her company; she walked around the room with a smile, talking to everyone lightly as if she had known them for years.
At the same time, he craved and feared that she would eventually sit down next to him, noticing his distancing and tiredness and walked out into the garden, sitting down on a bench, lighting a cigarette.
He closed his eyes as he heard someone's footsteps and for some reason he knew, subconsciously felt, that it was her.
He smelled her scent as she sat down next to him with a quiet creak of old wood and slowly opened his eyelids, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
She was holding her drink, probably vodka with orange juice and mango, for some reason it seemed obvious to him that she only liked alcohol if it was sweet.
"Beautiful evening." She said warmly, softly, her gaze slightly dreamy, gazing up at the cloudless, starry sky, her body as if spilling over the backrest of the bench, her head lying comfortably on it, framed by her shiny hair.
He thought with embarrassment that he couldn't cause her pain even if she begged him to.
Though maybe he could slap her buttock a time or two before sinking his face between her thighs, leaving the red mark of his hand on her skin.
He swallowed loudly, taking another drag on his cigarette, looking ahead, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, the arousal he knew so well, his manhood twitched in his trousers.
He didn't answer.
After a moment, however, Criston came out to them, chatting them up, making him feel relieved, feeling like he was going to go mad because of her presence.
He left the party faster than he wanted to; Robert tried to stop him by saying that he could spend the night at his house, but he refused, terrified by this vision, knowing that he wouldn't last, that he would go to her room.
That one word from her would be enough to make him fuck her and regret it for the rest of his life.
He would leave her with nothing afterwards.
She seemed like a good, nice girl, deserving of a decent man who wouldn't think about tying her up.
As he drove home in his car he breathed out loud, somehow proud of himself, knowing that he had done the right thing, that maybe he wasn't as bad a person as he thought he was.
He fought with himself not to look for her on social media, and although he himself had accounts under pseudonyms with black squares in place of profile pictures, knowing that she was Robert's sister, finding her was too easy for him to resist.
So, in despair, he spent the evening giving up, recognising that if someone publishes something on the internet it means they agree to let others look at it. He swallowed loudly, surprised to see a new notification on Facebook and it was nothing other than an invitation from her.
He felt the cold sweat on his back and the quick, hard pounding of his heart, as if he was about to defuse a ticking bomb.
Accept?
Reject?
Do nothing?
He stared at his screen with his lips clenched and involuntarily clicked accept.
Fuck.
He ran his hand over his face, knowing it wasn't the best idea, but that if he removed her quickly from his friends now she'd still get a notification that he'd accepted her before and it would be weird to say the least.
He figured that she had surely only added him because he was a friend of her brother's and she had no intention of doing anything more with it.
He almost choked on his tea when he saw that she had sent him a message.
He stared at the chat bubble and clenched his eyes, clicking on it, unfolding the conversation, recognising that he wouldn't fall asleep if he didn't see what she had written to him.
He looked at her message with a fast-beating heart, reading it several times, swallowing quietly with a sense of some kind of relief that it had no subtext. It made him feel warm at the thought that, in essence, what she had written was kind and affectionate, expressing only her innocent concern and gratitude.
He figured he could write her back without any remorse that he was doing something wrong, for some reason feeling excited about talking to her.
He wrote back and sighed heavily, recognising that his reply was terribly dry and distant, but then thought that perhaps it was better. He twisted restlessly in his seat looking expectantly at his screen when he saw that after a moment she had displayed his message.
He involuntarily smiled reading it and thought she was sweet.
Over the next few days, he involuntarily returned to that brief exchange of words, thinking only of the fact that he wanted to somehow strike up a conversation with her again, although he didn't know how to do so.
"What are you thinking about, buddy?" Robert asked him with amusement, slapping him on the back with a friendly, masculine hand gesture; he swallowed loudly, pulled out of his reverie, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Nothing."
One of his clients had expressed a desire to meet again after their last session, wanting a more intense experience this time. Looking at her message, he ran his hand over his face, for some reason feeling doubts surging into his mind, though he didn't know what they stemmed from.
What would she think of him if she found out?
During the meeting with his client he had given her everything she wanted, but there had been no intimacy with penetration between them and he had satisfied her only with his hand.
He felt for some reason distanced from what he was doing, as if his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
He imagined that if it had been her lying in front of him he would have done it differently, that he would have brought her to the edge of despair, but he would have had more understanding and patience, he would have been tender to her.
Why?
When it was all over and the woman had left he cleaned everything, threw the old bedding in the washing machine and put on the fresh one, so that it would be ready when he returned there.
He left and locked the flat, then ran down the staircase and headed for the car park across the street.
"Aemond!" He heard a happy, girlish, warm voice, her voice; he turned over his shoulder, terrified, for some unexplained reason certain that she had caught him in the act, even though they were standing in the middle of the street.
She jumped off her bike halfway down the road, grabbed the handlebars and ran over to him, a shopping bag in her basket, a cute fabric clasp backpack on her shoulders.
She was dressed in dark, long high-waisted trousers, pleasantly emphasising her waist and a short-sleeved T-shirt, her hair tied up in a braid that was partly blown by the wind.
She stood in front of him smiling broadly, in the light of the sun her face seemed even more gentle and soft to him, although she appeared to him to be nothing more than a figment of his imagination, so he merely stood and looked at her with his mouth slightly parted.
"Where are you going?" She asked lightly, her eyes shining with an innocent, childlike curiosity from which he felt a tightening in his throat; he thought she literally beamed with a kind of warmth from which his whole body shuddered.
He licked his lower lip quickly, swallowing loudly as he tried to get any meaningful sentence out.
"I'm just getting home." He said in a low, cool, distant voice, having no idea why he sounded that way − he had the feeling that his whole body was somehow trying to prevent what was just happening to him. She blinked, cocking her head as if she was expecting the rest of his statement, though he wasn't planning one.
"I…I had my business to take care of. And you?" He changed the subject quickly wanting to distract her from himself − she smiled even wider, shifting from foot to foot.
He noticed the outline of her breasts under her T-shirt proving she had no bra underneath and looked away, horrified and aroused by this discovery.
Fuck.
If she was his, he'd show her what he thought of it.
He squeezed his eyes shut wondering what he was even thinking about when the last thing he was looking for was a relationship.
"I'm just going to a lecture by my favourite professor in the history of philosophy. Want to join me? Entry is free!" She said clearly excited by her own idea and proposal, and he swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, analysing quickly what she had said, whether he should do it.
He had no commitments, his whole evening was free.
He hummed under his breath, putting his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.
"How far is it from here?" He asked hesitantly, and she waved her hand.
"The lecture will be held at the Community Centre, two streets away. Five minutes' walk."
He looked at her, at her pretty, overjoyed face, and gave in.
"Why not."
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd aemond#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#dark aemond smut#aemond smut#modern aemond angst#dark modern aemond#modern aemond smut#modern aemond#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell smut#hots smut#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#hotd angst#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#aemond kinslayer#prince aemond#aemond#aemond one eye#aemond fanfic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#ewan mitchell fandom
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She Wanted You
JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader
Word Count:1.4k
Warnings:none
A/n: angst bc im boycotting watching season three LOL, not my gif
“What do you mean she left?” JJ questioned, dumbfounded. He didn’t realize it, but he was walking into a war zone. The Chateau no longer had the same feel. It was like someone sucked the air out, and pumped smog in.
With tears in his eyes, John B pointed towards his sister’s room. Sarah and Pope were lingering in there, but JJ had no idea why. The room was oddly neat, incredibly out of character of the girl who resided there. Her closet was emptier than usual, the three picture frames that once had pictures of her with her family and friends were empty. What caught JJ’s eyes next, made his mouth go dry. His breath was no longer there. The navy sweatshirt he had given her years ago was folded, on the bed, next to the pillow he always claimed during their relationship. Atop the sweatshirt was a ring from a gumball machine, an orange and green friendship bracelet made of paracord, and a pile of notes written on scraps of random papers. Every other personal belonging was missing from its spot.
JJ tore through the girl’s nightstand, and when he realized the box of her life savings was gone, he let out a string of colorful words and kicked the stand.
“Here, you should read this.” Sarah handed him a neatly written note. By the tear stains on Pope’s face, the somber tone from the kook, and JB’s raging anger, it was a farewell.
He took a deep breath, and swiped the letter from Sarah. The familiar handwriting was already pulling at his heart.
J,
I’ve rewritten this letter four times already, and I still don’t know how to put my thoughts into actual words. Firstly, I love you. I love you until the waves stop coming in. I love you so much that I knew I needed to leave. I’ve known since you wandered home with John B in third grade, and gave me all the answers (even though they were wrong) to my math homework that if there was going to be another boy in my life, he was going to have to fight you for that spot. From 7 years old, I only ever wanted you. But over the last two years, I can see that I’m not the one for you. And that is why I’m leaving. One of the only things that got me through my day was seeing you smile, but I understand that there is someone else who causes those crinkles by your eyes.
I have to leave because it’s too painful. I need time to have all your kisses leave my body, I need to leave because I can’t smell the ocean, listen to Akon and Konvict, or even wash my fucking clothes without thinking of you. I see you in body language, in the waves, in every damn aspect of my life. Not only are we ingrained on this island, but you are ingrained in me. If I’m ever going to come home I need to remove every trace.
I told you last week, I’d always be on your team, even from a distance. I need you to pursue Kiara because there is nothing more I want for you than happiness. Deep down, I know it will always be her. While that sentence feels like a shot, I’m coming to terms with it.
Don’t try to come find me, either. I won’t be going to any of the places we’ve ever talked about, I do have my secrets still. Not Yucatan, not Tybee, and certainly not Jekyll. Take care of my brother.
All my love,
Y/N
“When did you and Y/N break up?” Sarah asked. JJ couldn’t even think straight. Y/N and the boy broke up about a week ago, for that specific reason, JJ thought there was something there with Kiara. He didn’t think the girl would pick up her stuff and bolt. Leave her brother, her best friends, and the life she claimed to love.
“I, uh, initiated it last week or so,” he stuttered, “it wasn’t definite or anything, but it was insinuated I guess. We had a conversation about it, but I don’t think I ever could have said it out loud.”
“Oh,” she thought. “You know she really loved you with every bone in her body.”
He sucked in a deep breath to try to keep his tears at bay. How could he walk out to the front room and face John B. He was the reason the youngest Routledge had left. With Big John gone, she was all he had left. Hell, with Luke gone, she was all JJ had too. In some form he robbed his friends of a family member.
JJ laid down on the neatly made bed and latched onto the sweatshirt that smelled just like her. His memory flooded with images of Y/n in that sweatshirt. From it covering her bikini when they went night swimming, it being the one sweatshirt that was specifically for after she came home from school, the one thing that grounded her when she was having a rough day. JJ felt his chest start to tighten, and his hands were clammy and shaking.
“I thought you said you’d never break her heart!” JB screamed. Impeccable timing.
“John B don’t–” Sarah tried to interject.
“No Sarah, he promised. He promised me almost three years ago that if I gave him permission to date Y/n, he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew he’d be breaking more than just her heart. And now I can’t even help her pick up the pieces. I can’t fix my baby sister, the way she fixed each and every one of us!”
“Bro, you think this is what I wanted? I had a conversation with her. Nothing was definitive. It’s not my fault she took her shit and ran!”
“When has Y/n ever not taken her feelings and ran? Name one time!”
JJ sat there in thought, and there had been one time she didn’t run, and he had promised that he wouldn’t tell. He was going to anyway.
“When you disappeared. I held her while she cried herself to sleep for nights on end. So don’t act like I never treated her right. You know I did.” JB ran his hands through his hair and left the room.
“Until you decided you may have feelings for the girl who is like her big sister.” That stung.
“What’s going on?” Kie asked.
“She’s gone.” John B said. “‘Cuz JJ’s in love with you.”
~~
JJ sat in the hammock, wearing the navy sweatshirt he hadn’t worn in years. It smelled just like her. He could even feel the marks of where she rolled the sleeves and dug her thumbs into the side.
He barely remembered last week’s conversation about Kie, but never did he think that it would cause you to disappear. Y/n was so incredibly loyal. She wanted him. Every. Damn. Day. She wanted him when the clouds were out, and the usually blue sky was gray. She wanted him when he was bruised and beat up, she wanted him when he was crabby after a 14 hour shift, she wanted him at every hour of the day in any way she could have him.
It was just a conversation, he thought. He never flat out said that he was leaving her for the tanned, wealthy kook.
He felt so fucking stupid. He felt so much self-hatred. He remembered when they were 12 and 14, and Y/n wanted to walk to the gas station a few streets over, but John B wouldn’t go with her. He remembered what she usually bought. Peach iced tea, sour straws and a bag of munchie mix. Every single time.
He remembered when the girl got drunk for the first time and dialed him to come get her. God, she was so inebriated. She clung to the boy, giggling profusely. That was the first night she ever told the boy she loved him. Y/n never knew it, but JJ kept that memory locked in his head.
He pondered the time she was ready to give him her virginity. He remembered how nervous she was, but how much she trusted him.
It had grown dark by the time he wandered back into the Chateau. He was surprised JB didn’t kick him out, he fully expected to be out on the streets by now. As he stumbled towards the bedrooms, he went past his own, and fully dove into the light purple sheets he had come to love. She’ll come back, he thought. She has to.
#jj x reader#jj outer banks#jj maybank#jj maybank imagine#Outer Banks#outer banks imagine#obx imagine#hms pogue
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Yes, on Saturday, Hamas militants broke out of the prison of Gaza and massacred 1,200 Israelis, including many civilians, taking more than 100 hostages. From the second I heard what was happening I have been overcome by a combination of grief and horror at the massacre itself, and also the sheer, unrelenting terror of knowing how the Israeli and American governments would weaponize these deaths.
And like clockwork, the loss of Israeli lives is being used by our government to justify the rush to genocide, to provide moral cover for the immoral push for more weapons and more death.
For Jews, the pain we feel is not ours alone. Since the founding of the state of Israel, the Zionist movement has positioned the domination and oppression of Palestinians and the colonization of Palestinian land as the answer to the very real question of Jewish safety. They have taken the very real pain and trauma that we as Jews carry and sharpened it into a deadly weapon. We desperately must understand that what is happening is not a cycle of violence. It is a system of violence. Everyone is caught in its teeth.
It is the system of settler colonial apartheid that the Israeli government has built and maintained over the past seventy-five years—with billions upon billions of dollars from the United States. Settler colonialism is a structure, a language, a culture, an ideology—an interlocking, totalizing, system of violence. It is a machine of war and dehumanization against Palestinians. It is this system that imperils the lives and safety of everyone.
While the vast majority of the violence of the apartheid regime lands on Palestinians, there is no safety for Israelis in a system rooted in such dehumanization and oppression. In the words of Holocaust survivor Hajo Meyer, “My great lesson from Auschwitz is: whoever wants to dehumanize any other must first be dehumanized himself. The oppressors are no longer really human, whatever uniform they wear.” The Israeli government has lost any semblance of humanity as they wage a genocide against the people living in Gaza.
[...]
“Never again” means standing up for Palestinian people. “Never again” means this very moment.
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In Sickness...
Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader
Summary: Jake feels his pulse jump and his stomach fly when he talks to or about you. Obviously, this must mean he's gravely ill.
Notes: mentions of a cheating boyfriend, jake convinced he's sick when really he is in loooveeee
Masterlist
“Hey, Hangman, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Jake, despite his usual goal of doing everything in his power to get on Phoenix’s nerves, finds himself ignoring the need to be quite annoying. His antics aside, he knew his fellow aviator well enough by now to recognise when she was up for his shit, and when she absolutely wasn’t.
That doesn’t mean he’s not going to be a little bit of a douchebag, though.
“Give me a second, Trace, I’ll need to start my timer.” he makes a show of observing his watch and starting a countdown from sixty seconds. Phoenix ignores him, and in place of possibly giving him a dead arm, she instead comes to a stop in front of him, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that was just a Natasha Thing, and not actually a sign of closed body language-thing
“You’re going to be at Mav and Penny’s later, right?” she asks, even though he knows he’s never given the impression of having any other plans, and she knows it. Jake simply nods, still pretending to count down.
“Right. Well… maybe take it easy on Cricket tonight, okay?” Phoenix asks him, her voice soft and quiet in a manner that makes Jake mess up his countdown, and subsequently drop his wrist and the bit entirely.
“I’m under the impression that I always take it easy on my favourite member of the orthopteran insect family,” he poses, and it's not untrue. He didn’t snipe with Cricket like he did with the others, mostly because she never sniped back, so trying to maintain a faux adversarial relationship would just be boring. No, Cricket was far sweeter and more wholesome than literally anyone he’d ever met, like Elle Woods had a lovechild with Barbie, and instead of banter, he’d found it irresistible and perpetually rewarding to tease her about her Certified Disney Princess status.
(Jake will never let her forget the time a small child at the beach approached her to ask if she was a mermaid, and that wasn’t even the only instance he’d witnessed something like that happening.)
Phoenix shifts uncomfortably in front of him and purses her lips.
“Look, just… give her a break tonight,” she pushes. Jake frowns even deeper, his own mood becoming solemn now.
“What's wrong? Is she alright?” the questions leave his mouth before he can really consider perhaps only asking one, to keep some semblance of cool. Phoenix dances from foot to foot again and nods, but then quickly makes the universal noise, gesture and expression of ‘well, no, actually’.
“She, uh, broke up with her boyfriend a few days ago.” Nat reveals, and oddly, it's the last thing Jake was expecting to hear, and the last thing he’d expect her to divulge to him.
“Oh.” he says, a little unsure of what else to say. Blinking rapidly, Phoenix starts nodding again, this time in a sort of commiserating manner, as if they often gossiped.
“Yeah, she came home to find the prick was fucking one of his colleagues…” She all but spits the words. Her hands form fists where they’re still tucking into her folded arms.
“She's actually really torn up about it, but you know Cricket. She’s not very good at not being positive, you know? So she’s just bottling it up, and I figured, maybe your usual game with her might not be so lighthearted right now. You know she would never tell you if you actually hurt her feelings, so…” Phoenix manages to catch herself before she descends into a full on ramble.
In all the years he’d known her, Jake had only ever witnessed Phoenix fully ramble once, several years ago back in Lemoore, when she and Halo had downed eight shots in ten minutes, and she then proceeded to give him a thirty minute TEDTalk about how cockroaches were basically just incredibly simple AI machines, interrupted every so often when she dozed off against his shoulder, only to pick right back up like nothing had happened.
Pushing the memory aside, Jake takes in her words slowly before at last he releases a deep breath.
He actually finds himself a little taken aback by the sheer depth of anger that lances through him at the thought of Cricket being treated like that. Nobody deserves to be cheated on, but Cricket was simply someone that Jake doesn’t believe anything bad should ever happen to. Around the same time he comes to this conclusion, Jake also becomes aware that as his anger simmers down, he’s struck with the need to seek out his squadmate, and comfort her, something which, if Jake is honest with himself, is not something he has much experience with. He was much more likely to offer space to someone in need, so this sudden urge causes his brow to furrow.
Jake chooses to compartmentalise this oddness for now, but makes a mental note for later to figure out when exactly he’d developed such a strong fondness for Cricket, and more importantly, how exactly that had happened without him knowing.
For now, Jake just gives Pheonix a level nod, and what he hopes is an expression she takes to mean he understands. He then tries to get a hold of his rogue fondness and leashes it with what he thinks is a brotherly, friendly reaction, a more normal reaction for him to have towards his squadmate.
“Does she want him punched or something?” he asks, feeling as though anything more would reveal too much of his scattered, fond thoughts. Jake purses his lips when he realises that ‘fondness’ was quickly becoming an understatement he’ll have to address at some point.
Phoenix's lips curve into a genuine smile, and she chortles softly, shaking her head.
“Well, you’ll have to get in line if she does. I’ve got first dibs.” she states, cracking her knuckles and then her neck, making Jake snort, and shrug, glad to know that perhaps he wasn't the only one suddenly feeling protective.
“I’m sure we could come up with a wrestlemania-worthy finishing move, a la The Hardy Boys to sort him out.” Jake chortles, imagining he and Nat in matching championship belts, and ignoring her raised eyebrow. He knows from that one movement alone that she is filing this information about him away to whip out like a trap card, but compared to the other information she might have gleaned from his reaction to the situation, he doesn’t care so much.
(Besides, Jake felt no shame about his love for Attitude-Era WWE, and if he ever gets the chance to repay her for the thirty minutes of cockroach facts he could have lived his whole life without needing to know, well, now he knew exactly what his topic of choice would be.)
Four hours later, Jake, for some reason, cannot stop thinking about his conversation with Phoenix. He tried chalking it up to the fact that it was an unusual request she’d made of him, but he knows that is bull. Jake is far too invested all of a sudden in your personal life, in your feelings, in a way that honestly, he never has been before. Or at least, has never realised before, because the more Jake lingers on the idea that you were cheated on, he has to confront the fact that these feelings might just have been there all along, and that actually, your happiness and wellbeing are extremely important to him.
He keeps his distance when you arrive with Halo at Penny and Mav’s, but he eyes you hawkishly anyway, uncaring if he’s obvious about it or not. He wants to believe that if he hadn’t known, he’d have spotted your much more reserved demeanour immediately, but honestly, he's not really sure of anything now when it comes to you. Jake isn’t sure if Phoenix spoke to the others, if he was just the last to know, but there is an air of tenderness in the way the others greet you, which wasn't entirely unusual in itself, yet the softness is palpable even from where he sits on the other side of the yard.
He watches you put on a good show, smiling sweetly at Penny as she rushes over to say hello, but the moment you dont think others are paying attention, your features fall and Jake decides that it is basically unacceptable for you to look that sad ever again.
When you disappear through the backdoor, to put the share platter you’ve bought into the fridge he assumes, Jake doesn’t even excuse himself from the conversation he’s supposedly in before he’s beelining for the house. Behind him, he can vaguely hear Javy and Payback protest, but he doesn’t pay them any mind.
Jake steps through the sliding back doors quietly, closing the door behind him and shutting out the rest of the barbeque, if only for a few minutes. He moves softly through the small back room and towards the kitchen, once more surprised to find out just how pleased he is when you turn to look at him right away. That was new… or was it? Jake thinks perhaps he should stop trying to figure things out.
“Hey! Jake!” you greet cheerfully, and he’s comforted a little that your smile reaches your eyes.
“I didn’t catch you this afternoon, so I didn't get to find out your fruit platter preference, but Javy told me anything but pineapple–” you launch right away into friendly conversation, and oddly, this small normality brings him comfort too, after his afternoon of quiet worry. Jake nods at your words as you continue explaining your fruit platter, and if he hadn't other things on his mind, he would have voiced his amusement at the fact you’d somehow managed to cut or arrange all the fruits into the shape of jets.
Anger bubbles in him once again, at the idea that anybody would do anything to cause you to be upset. You, who cuts fruit into themed shapes, and who makes sure to ask every member of the team their food preferences, and who, he’s almost certain, has made the yoghurt dip you're currently unwrapping completely from scratch just for this casual get together.
How could any sane person know you, know how sweet and caring and fundamentally, altogether good you are, and still choose to do something that would hurt you?
More importantly, how could a man be with you and want anyone else?
Jake takes a step forward and fixes you with what he hopes is not an expression that reflects his inner anger, but gives off something more like softness. He’s not sure he’s ever really had a serious conversation with you before, especially not one that wasn't about work, so he’s surprised how natural it feels to show you something more genuine than his usual playful amusement.
“Are you alright?” he hears himself ask you, almost regretting it when your expression drops immediately, and you look away from him, back to your fruit platter which you now seem to be pointless rearranging just so you don't have to look at him. You attempt to wave him off after a few moments, plastering a smile on and scrunching your nose as you continue to not look at him.
“I’m okay. Really. Things weren’t right for a while, so it’s sort of a relief, really.”
Jake thinks that maybe in a few months time, those words might actually be believable, but Phoenix was right. You were such a naturally happy and uplifting person, it’s clear to Jake that you were struggling to let yourself be sad or angry about it all.
You seem to be expecting him to speak, because you glance back at him several times before you seem to really get a look at his face, at which point you stop messing with your platter and turn to face him properly.
“Thank you for asking, though, I… I really appreciate that,” you murmur, wringing your hands together, before realising what you’re doing and smoothing them out over your sundress instead. Jake feels his pulse speed up. Or maybe it slows, he’s not sure, he just knows that his heart beat becomes irregular, and before he knows what he's doing, he’s stepping even closer towards you.
“Cricket,” he begins, a frown beginning to crease his brow, which your eyes flicker to consciously, as if you were concerned about his feelings. “Just say the word, and his nose will be irreparably broken. For the rest of his life he’ll be telling people it's an old football injury. Maybe he’ll even need surgery to fix it enough that it’s even remotely normal again,” Jake watches your eyes widen and blink as he speaks, but he makes sure to keep any trace of humour from his voice, so you properly understand just how serious he’s being. “Hell, it doesn't even need to be his nose. I’ll break his collarbone, I've heard that's the most painful in the long run…”
When you let out a soft sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh, Jake almost thinks he needs to rephrase his offer, but your soft smile and the almost shy look you shoot at him before you drop your gaze for a moment assures him you understood that he wasn’t joking, even a little.
“Sometimes…” you purse your lips and frown, struggling to find the right words, but you begin wringing your hands slowly again and the movement seems to lend you some confidence. “Sometimes I really wish I could be more like Phoenix… or, more like anybody else, really–” Jake has to physically clamp his mouth shut to stop himself protesting that point and let you talk.
“Sometimes, I wish I was someone who would take you up on that offer. I… I feel like I should want to want that… but I don’t…” you trail off and sigh again, but this time, the exhale seems to take a weight off your chest, like simply admitting these feelings out loud was what you really needed.
You look back up at him properly, and smile again. Jake thinks his pulse has stopped altogether now, and begins to seriously consider reporting to medical first thing Monday morning.
“But, I promise that if I ever change my mind about the severe breaking of certain bones, I’ll know exactly who to talk to.” Your smile widens just slightly, a little mischievous almost, like even just joking about it was very cheeky of you. Jake on the other hand, just believes it to be the only correct course of action.
He opens his mouth to respond, but you begin talking again, dropping your fidgeting hands to hang more relaxed at your sides.
“A lot of my life I haven’t really been surrounded by people who’ve looked out for me, or folks who I can really trust… and I know we’re not really friends, more like work friends, but–” you suddenly cut yourself off and shake your head with a little chortle.
“It doesn’t matter, ignore me–”
“–We’re friends.” Jake can’t stop himself from protesting this time. You blink at him like this is surprising to you. “We are friends, Cricket… I know I–” Jake cuts himself off like you had just done and grinds his teeth a little. This was not a conversation he went around having very often, if ever, at all. “You know I wouldn’t poke fun at you if I didn’t care. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think we were friends,” he says, hoping his words didn’t give away exactly how much he cared. You seem to search his face, but you’re nodding, as if he was the one who needed assuring in this situation.
Jake starts to wonder then if he was actually becoming seriously ill, and all of his reaction to this afternoon has just been one big fugue episode. That idea is genuinely more believable to him at this moment, that Jake is really, actually currently unconscious in the on base hospital, with a skyrocketing fever and some other terrible things, than all of this sudden personal change and inner realisation happening so naturally and smoothly and without him having a say in it.
But then you’re smiling at him again, bright and genuine and all thoughts of climbing fevers and sudden illness evaporate. As sad as it sounds, Jake would never dream of you smiling at him like that, the sight so affecting and sweet that he could never come up with on his own. However, he does conclude he’ll probably be seeing it a lot in his dreams from now on. He thinks this should cause panic in him, he should not be planning to dream about one of his squad mates smiling at him, but unsurprisingly to him now, panic is the furthest thing he feels about it.
“Well, I just know that I’m not always good at asserting myself, but I know that you guys… you guys will do it for me.” You give a little shrug. Jake feels a little shame then, that he’s worked with you for several months now and has not once picked up on the fact that you were completely aware of your own tendency to be a bit of a pushover.
It dawns on him that every time he teased you for being ‘too nice’, and every time you laughed or shook your head in amusement, the real joke was on him. It’s a joke that Jake doesn't find particularly funny right now. He’s not sure he ever will.
“Sorry, I’m being so dramatic and grim!” you say suddenly, and this time your mood change isn’t fake or put on. Jake shakes his head at you, and at last feels some of his regular programming begin to seep back in. He chooses to make a show of leaning back against the counter and carefully crosses his arms over his broad chest in a way that he knows looks incredibly sexy (Javy has assured him), a small smirk slowly spreading over his features.
“Cricket,” he drawls out slowly, somewhat relieved that he feels more himself again. You double take as you look back up at him from where you’ve started fiddling with your fruit platter again, your eyes blinking rapidly as you now quickly try to avoid his whole side of the room. Jake’s grin grows ever so slightly when he has your attention, even if you seem too nervous to look at him now.
Unlike most of the women Jake had worked with, you didn't seem to try to, or perhaps you simply were unable to, hide the effect Jake had on you, how he could so easily make you flustered. It's not something he’s totally unfamiliar with, after all, plenty of women around the Hard Deck were the exact same, but the fact that you aren't some civilian looking to get laid, and are in fact one of the best aviators he knows, makes it all the sweeter.
(Jake had once tried to reconcile the way you handled yourself in the air, with the way you were at all other times, but he could never quite do the maths on it, so it was better for his brain if he didn't think about it at all.)
Honestly, Jake knows his getting a reaction out of you is an act of self ego-stroking, but he loved making a spectacle of himself, just to watch how you would sputter and go all mushy, and if he’s even more honest, a big part of his enjoyment lay in the thought that perhaps, he was doing you a favour, giving you something to think about, boyfriend be damned. He supposes he doesn’t need to worry about that being a problem anymore.
Jake then pauses then, and wonders when exactly you having a boyfriend had become a ‘problem’, a threat to him specifically, because the more he thinks about the idea now (hypothetical as it is), the more his skin starts to itch under his shirt.
Perhaps he was getting sick after all.
“Yes, Jake?” you ask, still avoiding looking his way, and trying to use a tone of voice that was either exasperated or ignorant, but your slightly higher pitch gives you away.
“You didn’t say that I was your friend, too,” he faux complains, watches you shake your head a little, but fail completely at keeping the smile off of your face.
With your platter now deemed ready, you pick it up and turn toward him, holding it out for him to take. Jake, without thought, does so.
“You are my friend, too, Jake,” you tell him, far more sincerely this time, and Jake feels his pulse do that odd thing again. He swallows thickly, and nods, before you direct him out the back door.
For the rest of the afternoon, Jake can’t help but hover, never moving too far away from where you are, and when he doesn’t have an excuse to linger close to you, he always keeps one eye directed your way.
#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake 'hangman' seresin#jake seresin#hangman#hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin
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As promised many months ago to end this day, here's a 🧵of the insanity Cassandra Cain's "human" body can do due to what David Cain put her through (besides the two obvious ones of body language and various forms of killing he trained her in).
The best issue that showcases that is of course Batgirl Vol. 1 #14 where various government agencies look at the footage Cass got caught filmed in.
The first few pages are literally showcasing how inhuman, but still bordering on human she is due to what David Cain put her through.
This is always fully covered throughout Batgirl Volume 1 and is usually forgotten when writers and editors tend to have their job. Not saying any names or storylines of any RECENT kind where a WAR broke out in GOTHAM.
is still salty YES
We've seen Cass's speed all the time throughout the Puckett run. To just showcase the prior issue's bullet dodging or her issue of Tim (#18) be child's play (along with her taking several shots up close and dodging each one from a certain corrupt government bastard).
Nah the best example of Cass's true "speed" is in #34 facing the mob boss Ving and his gang.
Yeah, you're seeing that right she is faster than a freaking bullet. Surprising how SOME seem to forget that in other comics. 🙄
Something even Batgirls remembered (#15) when Cass was playing shogun dodge with Cluemaster who was trying to shoot her with a shotgun.
But what of Cassandra's strength? Just how strong is she really?
#19 where Cass is faced with the obstacle of three-inch quartz preventing her from escaping a gas chamber. So let's examine just how thick three-inch quartz is.
Well, let's google just that.
A SEVEN on the hardness scale. Further research says that it can only crack due to "extreme impacts" which wouldn't ya know:
As for her body itself, Batgirl/Ghost: The Ressurection Machine #3 suggests this about Cass being immune to A LOT of poisons:
Something Batgirl Vol. 1 "sort of" delves in #50 when both she and Bruce are doused with a new batch of super drug but it turns out they were both immune to it due to them being built differently than normal humans.
This is all the more surprising because a few issues prior to (#46) Cass is doused with a version of it, but you could say given what she "sees" Cass is under A LOT of stress (the building tension with Bruce, Babs breaking up with Dick, Superboy/Black Wind stuff). Plus she does "sort of" snap out of it to beat the bad guys in that issue.
Just like in #51 she avoids the pheromones to Poison Ivy even though she is showing signs of falling under the hormones but snaps out of it due to willpower (something Bruce was almost succumbing to before he fully snapped out of it too).
It really feels like "this anti-poison" ability Cass had was all but forgotten once the series ended. Of course, naturally with a certain "infamous" story ONE YEAR LATER, but also Batman & Robin Eternal as she is affected by Fear Toxin (among other stuff too).
#9 & #59 showcase that David Cain shot Cass regularly so much that she can not even feel it. This could explain also HOW she was eventually able to dodge bullets and become so fast.
#22 also showcases this as well so this is not something simply just randomly put in. This was something the writers wanted to show the sickening lengths David Cain put Cass through.
Again, #14 brought up Cass's metabolism and how off the charts it was. I think something we just overlooked is that in #26 Cass slept for 20 hours a day for four days (or perhaps longer) straight until she fully recovered from fighting Lady Shiva.
That's not even going under the amount of food she consumes. This little detail was first showcased in #39 when Cass ate like she was freaking Goku.
This little bit of detail was brought back in #66 when she ordered THREE burgers (I'm assuming with everything on it) with three sides of fries and a BIG milk.
Amusingly, this detail was recently brought back in Nightwing #106 & #108 where she FEASTED on who knows how many pancakes.
Lastly, I feel this bit is worth mentioning as well from #47 with Doctor Lewis Friedman who started the theory on body language that David Cain made a frightening reality with Cass (shame he was never brought up again after this issue).
All this isn't even counting on the extremely LONG hours of shower time Cass picked up in the Gabrych run that even Willingham's Robin (which went on during this) teased (something again Batgirls kept up on).
So there you have it. The utter anomaly that is the body of one Cassandra Cain.
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Dating L would be like...
Death Note L Lawliet x gender neutral reader
(I'm aware that the picture says girlfriend but the gender of the reader is not specified in the fic. The pictures were also edited by me).
Fluff // One shot
Summary: L was more like a machine than a human, he was cold, calculated and a "no fun and games" type of person aside from the occasional sarcastic or dry humored comment. L never lost his composure and would repress any emotion he had has a intimidation tactic. He was blunt and wouldn't allow anything or anyone to dethrone him.
However around you, L wasn't quite that...
The task force had suspected you and L were a couple, but whenever anyone asked about it, L would quickly shut down the conversation and went back to his work, saying that it wasn't any of their business. You and L were a couple but he just wanted to keep things secretive and professional since doing otherwise made him feel vulnerable.
He couldn't let his suspect Light know how much you meant to him just in case he used it against him, plus it was just in L's nature to be serective.
However as soon the doors were closed and the task force was gone, he would be nuzzling into your shoulder, whining for attention. He would never stop clinging onto you until he got he's way because in his own words, "I'm also childish and don't like to lose".
Like today for instance:
"Not now Lolly, I've got an appointment to book", you said sighing while L continued kissing your neck and nibbling your ear from behind. "I love you but I do not appreciate your lack of cooperation" L then grumbled.
Lolly was your main pet name for L since it sounded like it was short for lollipop, (and we all know how much L loves those) and sounded similar to his real name, Lawliet. Panda was also another common one since he reminded you of one with his dark eyes and pale skin.
He then kneeled in between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, looking up at you in annoyance in an attempt to guilt trip you, (however he couldn't mask he's pleading eyes). "Lolly I already told you I'm busy, just 10 more minutes okay my love?" you cooed while stroking his cheek. But L didn't care, he picked you up bridal style from your chair and tossed you onto the bed. "Lawliet, you should know of all people how important it is to not have any distractions from your work" you said rasing an eyebrow. "You make a fair point" L says with his thumb on his lip, "But I'm not feeling very empathetic tonight" then he proceeded to smother you with kisses.
Your dates were either cafe hopping, picnics in the park, or L trying to teach you tennis. You would always try to get him to wear shoes but he would refuse, saying "I don't like how they feel". "I know but I don't want you to step on a piece of glass and hurt yourself" you would say while kissing his forehead. "I'm sure I'll live" L would say while kissing you back. You would then sigh and take off your shoes, "Fine. If that's how you want to play" and you both would walk around barefoot.
Another thing L wouldn't budge on is removing all the cameras and wiring taps from your room, if someone broke in and tired to hurt you he needed to know immediately who was responsible so he could toss them in jail forever. He valued your life way more than his, afterall, he did challenge Kira to kill him live on broadcast.
L absolutely loved when you taunted his number one suspect Light, in fact it was his love language.
"I'm not Kira!" Light would yell.
"You're not a very convincing actor Light, but hey! Maybe they'll give you an academy award in prison just for trying. Light Yagami! Mass murderer tries playing innocent victim!".
As a detective, L would always be analysising people's behaviour and you were no expectation.
"How was your day darling?" L cooed.
"Fine. I'm going to my room".
You say that you're fine Y/N yet you're tone and lack of physical affection would indicate otherwise. Could you be trying to deprive me of your attention as an indirect punishment? What could have I done?
However, you did mention how your work load has increased because of the lack of empyoees, were you stressed from that and simply avoided me to avoid talking about it? I should confront you instead of making any assumptions, it could make matters worse because you might believe that I am deliberately ignoring you.
"Love, I believe I have done something to upset you, please tell me what it is was so I can correct my behaviour. Will you accept this piece of cake as a initial peace offering? If I'm not to blame then please tell me who's bothering you so I can potentially sue them".
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Breed! Chapter 2
Research
ღPairing: Reader (f) x Park Seonghwa x Kim Hongjoong x Choi San x Jung Wooyoung
ღGenre: smut with no plot (if you squint, there's fluff)
ღAu: alien!teez, s2l, established relationship
ღWord Count: 2,757
ღWarnings: bdsm (tied up San), voyeurism, exhibitionism, jerking off by machine, virgin! seonghwa, corruption kink, reader is always cock hungry okay, penetrative sex with no protection, breeding kink, using cum as lubricant, m licking m cock, colored alien cum!, territorial! hwa, m orgasm x 2, degradation kink
ღRated: 18+ MDNI
ღDedication~ @thelargefrye you can blame smalls for hongjoong and wooyoung being included @mejuii @downtoamagicalland for being my ever-supporting beta readers
ღChapter 1~ Abduction
Slithering white rope-like strands suddenly came out from the ground and wound themselves around San. San yelped at the sudden attack and started to pull and grunt in an attempt to save himself. "Seonghwa?"
"I will take up your offer of data gathering," Seonghwa replied.
San momentarily stopped struggling and you watched with horror as the ropes slithered along his skin, tightening against his bronze skin. "Wait, really?" His face was both surprised and curious, "You're gonna fuck her?"
You stood up quickly, your skirt falling against your skin with the change of gravity. "What are you doing to San?" You demanded. Suddenly the severity of being kidnapped by aliens was starting to dawn upon you.
"We have observed that human males tend to get territorial with their mates. It's better if we restrain him while I…" Seonghwa licked his lips, "...how did you put it? Fuck her pussy full of my cum?"
You whimpered. You knew Seonghwa didn't know how dirty those words were, but that somehow made their effect more lethal. "San, look what you started!"
San was completely immobile now, only his pecs and shoulders peeking beneath the ropes. "I'm sorry I like watching other men fuck you?" He mockingly apologized, making you scoff.
Seonghwa cocked his head, stepping towards you. "Do you not wish to volunteer? We can find another suitable unmated female--"
"No," You cut him off rather firmly. You cleared your throat when San began to snicker in amusement. "I mean, it would be more efficient to use me, wouldn't it? You won't have to waste the time to explain it to another."
That sharp foreign language punctuated the air again. Seonghwa sneered a bit but quickly smoothed his features. "The others will join us now."
"Others?" You squeaked, twisting your fingers together in anxiety, "More are coming to watch?"
San started to cackle, throwing his head back. "Oh, this is getting better."
A hole opened up above and a disc descended with two individuals on it. They were shorter in stature than Seonghwa but not by much. They also simply appeared as two human males; both had faces that you couldn't read.
"I thought only Hongjoong was coming to replace me?" Seonghwa said in a tone that seemed to you like he was not impressed there were two of them.
"Wooyoung insisted," Hongjoong corrected Seonghwa. "He wants to try after you."
You began to stutter and moved closer to Seonghwa. "Seonghwa?"
Hongjoong laughed dryly. "The female is amusing in thinking that you would save her from such a fate."
Seonghwa’s arm, nonetheless, curled around your waist. He tilted his head at you. "Why do you search for solace in my arms? Is it because I chose you to mate with? Was it my tongue inside of you? Is that the appeal of this animalistic urge you humans endure for offspring?" Seonghwa pulled you closer. "Do you seek protection from other males penetrating you?"
You cleared your throat again. "Actually, I was wondering if you would allow it."
Seonghwa blinked at you profusely and then Wooyoung and Hongjoong broke out into laughter. "She wishes for more cocks. Clearly the more diverse DNA she absorbs, the better her child will become."
San was snickering again and you sent him a scathing look. "San!"
Wooyoung strode over to your restrained boyfriend. "You no longer struggle. Is it because Seonghwa licked your cock? Do you feel a sense of connection with him?" Wooyoung turned back towards Seonghwa. "Was that another part of the breeding process? Perhaps another must respect the cock that penetrated previously."
San coughed and blushed and stared high, high up to the ceiling. "Why didn't I think of that?"
Seonghwa’s fingers tightened on your body. "I am next. I have observed and now I will attempt to replicate."
His robe dropped to his feet and you let out a low moan. His body was more slender and flatter than San's but your fingers smoothed over his chest in appreciation nonetheless. "I should remove my clothes as well."
Seonghwa’s eyes were hooded and his cock bounced angrily against his abdomen. "Is it the proper way to do so?"
"Me and San just fuck with clothes on because it feels more forbidden," You admitted quietly.
Seonghwa kept his voice to the same level yours was. "This is quite forbidden."
"You should speak louder," Hongjoong interrupted. "If you're going to replicate, we need to hear everything for our turns."
You swallowed and found there was no moisture in your mouth. "How…how many are there of you?"
"Six of us,” Hongjoong reported, “It is not known how many of us should learn. In case it is decided that without enough data, we cannot make a concise choice, so the more data we all gather, the better."
"Surely the more data the better," San said in a slight squeal, trying to sound serious like the aliens but beyond excited. Was it going to be a gang bang? San knew you had always secretly wanted that experience, although you were plenty happy just fucking San.
"Precisely, human," Hongjoong smiled dangerously.
"I shall begin!" Seonghwa announced.
His hands cupped your face and he brought his lips to yours. You held perfectly still as they danced along yours with such feather light touches that you whined and pushed up on your tippy toes. You wrapped your arms around Seonghwa’s neck and slanted your lips over his. His eyes widened in surprise before he closed them and let your tongue take over in dominance. You whimpered when he melted under your touch. You suddenly wanted Seonghwa everywhere at once.
"You don't have to prep me, like San did," You whispered against Seonghwa's lips, your foreheads pressed together, "His cum will work fine."
San moaned in his spot. "Fuck, that's hot," he said as he bit rather harshly on his lower lip.
Seonghwa turned you around easily. "Then shall you bend over for me?" He asked.
You shook your head and turned around back to face him. "We can try a different position."
Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed. "You use more than one position?"
That's when San started to struggle in his restraints once again. "Let me out! I won't be bad, I'll just help!"
Wooyoung bounced on the balls of his feet, looking ecstatic that the show was about to begin. "He's not entered her yet. Let's be safe and keep you confined."
"I love having my dick squeezed but this is not the interpretation I prefer," San grumbled in an adorable pout.
Hongjoong snapped his fingers and suddenly San yelped and panted. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"Mingi thinks it's a good idea to acquire pure, unmixed cum from the male," Hongjoong supplied to the room.
"Who---hhhnnnnn--okay that--wow!" San was a whimpering mess and you knew that noise.
"San, are the ropes pleasuring you?" You demanded.
"Your mate will be fine, human," Seonghwa insisted, drawing your attention back to him. "What do we do next?"
"Well, I guess--" You managed to pull your eyes away from your boyfriend whose features were contorted in pleasure. "I'll need to wrap my legs around your waist--!"
Seonghwa placed his hands under your ass and leveled your lower half with his cock. "Like this?" He asked with raised eyebrows.
"Wait," Hongjoong commanded, stepping closer. "I wish to observe you penetrating the female."
"Female or human is kinda clinical to refer to me as, don't you think?" You whined pathetically.
"The male called you Babe?" Seonghwa tilted his head cutely.
You shook your head. "That's what San addresses me as. I want something different for you. Please?"
Seonghwa looked at a loss for words, face truthfully unsure. "What do I do?"
"Interesting. The female seems to want a further connection with you, Seonghwa," Hongjoong observed out loud.
"Mingi, adjust the bindings," Wooyoung said from his spot beside San still. "Let's see his breeding in action. We can collect more data with him outside of the pussy."
San choked again. The ropes adjusted until they revealed the ropes convulsing around San's very happy cock. "Fuck, I thought you were the only one that was going to have fun after this," San said, clearly directing his words towards you.
Hongjoong abandoned his post near Seonghwa and walked towards Wooyoung and San. "Figure it out, Seonghwa. I will begin the ritual by licking the male's cock and then yours."
"What?!" San and Seonghwa exclaimed at the same time.
"But I thought I was going next!" Wooyoung protested.
"Is there something you adore in your world?" You asked gently.
"There is a moon that orbits our planet. It is the most beautiful pink color I have ever had the pleasure of viewing," Seonghwa responded solemnly.
You pressed your lips inwards. "Will you call me your moon, then?"
"My moon," Seonghwa tried out the words carefully.
You smiled at the cute moment before giggling as San cursed loudly, which is usually what he did when he got his dick sucked. Hongjoong walked back to your side with a thoughtful expression. "He tastes interesting." Hongjoong locked eyes with Seonghwa, "Will you taste differently?"
Seonghwa let out a garbled gasp as Hongjoong gripped Seonghwa’s cock between the two of you and licked the head daintily. "Different but not in a bad way," Hongjoong observed. When Seonghwa simply stared at him in shock, Hongjoong directed Seonghwa with a jerk of his chin, "Focus, Seonghwa, you have to fuck the female!"
"My Moon," Seognhwa tried out the nickname again, "I'll use San's cum as lubricant and fuck you?"
You nodded eagerly and it all started up again. Seonghwa slid into you, with no restrictions. The look of pure enrapture on Seonghwa’s face made you realize, somewhat belatedly, that this was Seonghwa’s first time. He came at it with such an analytical mind that it made you forget he had never had sex before.
"I have discovered why humans copulate in such a way," Seonghwa said with reverence. "This pussy is so good."
Hongjoong stared up at Seonghwa, eyes studying the taller alien's faces. "Explain."
"The warmth and the wetness give unfathomable pleasure and comfort." Seonghwa's hands tightened on your ass and then began to move you up and down on his dick, like you were his own personal fleshlight. The moan he let out, the way his eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain, Seonghwa was pussy drunk on his first pussy.
"I told you there is no greater pleasure than fucking that pussy," San spoke up.
"Speed it up, Mingi," Wooyoung commanded, "He’s close."
"I don't think--!" San's back bowed as the ropes contracted and released around his dick. He was a babbling mess at that point and Wooyoung was quite interested in the whole display.
Hongjoong gripped Seonghwa’s jaw and turned his head. "Your mind is unraveling, what is wrong with you?"
Seonghwa shook his head and fucked you enthusiastically. The way he was hitting the end of you was making you feel some type of way as well. "You must experience it! That is the only explanation."
Hongjoong stepped back and was about to remove his robe. Seonghwa snarled almost animalistically towards Hongjoong, like he was snapping his jaws at Hongjoong to stay away from his meat. “You will not interrupt me until I am done.”
Hongjoong smiled pleasantly. “Seems like it is not just the human males that become territorial. Theory confirmed.”
Seonghwa appeared stuck between the pleasure he was experiencing and his role as researcher for data. His head swung towards San’s direction. "How do you STOP fucking this pussy? How do you not procreate all the time?"
San laughed and sighed at the same time. "My point exactly. I tell her all the time that it’s a crime we don’t just stay in bed all day and fuck."
Seonghwa sent you a wounded look. "How dare you deny him this?"
You laughed in amazement. “I guess males are all the same, regardless of the planet they are born on.”
Seonghwa grew serious. “I will complete my research now.”
Hongjoong clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “You’re starting to sound human. Be more patient! I would have you observe how you’re feeling more.”
Seonghwa shook his head, looking almost nervous. “I don’t believe I have a choice.”
You couldn't help but smile in pride. “Are you going to come so quickly, Seonghwa? Are you that pussy drunk that you can’t help but come inside of me just like that? I didn’t know it would be so fun to fuck a virgin.”
San’s cries began to crescendo and you watched, along with Wooyoung, as San tossed his head back and spurted across the room. His noises were like music to your ear, only making you even wetter, impaled on Seonghwa’s dick. San panted as he came down from his high but still he was not released. “Can I take these rope things home with me when you release us?”
Hongjoong scolded him, “Wooyoung, you were supposed to collect his cum! This is not a leisurely pursuit!”
You clenched down on Seonghwa and he let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “Please, do not do that! I am already close.”
You decided to play into your devious tendencies. Teasing Seonghwa was almost too much fun. “Come for me, Hwa. Fill me up with your cum. I want to be the first one to receive your cum. I want to be the first one to watch your pleasure written over your face. Come for me, Hwa.”
“Hwa?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as if he was feeling intense pain, “Th--” He made the most wonderful moan as he came for the first time. His features were etched in bliss and your eyes captured it all.
You bit down on your lip. You thought that you couldn't get any wetter yourself, but regardless of all the cum that was filling you up right now, you quickly knew you were going to get addicted to seeing these aliens come for the first time within you.
“And?” Hongjoong prompted, not even giving Seonghwa a moment to breath.
Seonghwa ignored him and instead focused on you. “Is it customary to shorten your partners name when speaking to them during the fucking process?”
You felt your heart flop a bit. Who knew Seonghwa could be so cute? “It just felt natural. Did you like it?”
“It--” Seonghwa cleared the potential whine from his throat, “It urged me to come.”
You smiled happily. “Good.”
“Good?” Seonghwa frowned in confusion.
Hongjoong began to huff at being ignored. “This was an utter failure. Seonghwa you can remove yourself from the female. Wooyoung, you will send down Mingi to observe, you’ve been useless.”
Seonghwa pulled out of you and it was your turn to be confused. Green, shimmering, viscous liquid pooled out of you, mixed with San’s pure white cum. “Oh,” was all that Seonghwa could say.
Hongjoong’s eyes were on your cunt, watching everything. “Our cum is a different color than the humans. Interesting. Mingi, make sure that’s recorded. We will extract Seonghwa’s sample another day.”
“I will be back,” Seonghwa whispered to you before carefully settling down on your feet. Even as he picked up his robe and put it back on and walked towards the disc that would take him upwards, he still sent lingering looks back to you. Had the alien formed a bond with you since you were his first?
“What about me?” San pouted. He did tend to get clingy after a climax.
Hongjoong’s eyes moved up and down San’s restrained body, San’s soft cock still out of his confines. “Two climaxes should have subdued you.”
Wooyoung snickered and drew Hongjoong’s attention. “I told you to leave,” Hongjoong commanded.
Wooyoung kicked at nothing, sulking immediately. “I’m going after you!” he shouted rebelliously as he walked to the disc to join Seonghwa.
“You’re going to be as useless as Seonghwa, I can already tell,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath.
You held up a hand as Hongjoong made to disrobe. “I need a break. Please. Water and food would be appreciated.”
Hongjoong pulled back up his robe and you were almost sorry you said something. Hongjoong almost had as nice of a chest as San. “Very well. You should gather your energy and then we will come back. I will find out if there is no greater pleasure than fucking your pussy.”
Somehow the sentence coming out of Hongjoong’s mouth felt more like a threat than a promise, but it made you even wetter. New kink unlocked
Tag list: @hijirikaww @flowerboykun @kitten4sannie @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @a-soft-hornytiny @the-flavour-of-deaths-ass
ღChapter 3: Experiment
#kvanity#kwritersworldnet#pirateeznet#thekpopuniverse#cultofdionysusnet#ateez smut#park seonghwa smut#choi san smut#atz smut#seonghwa smut#san smut#san x reader#seonghwa x reader#topaz's work#ღatz#alien!teez#happy birthday sannie bb
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