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solxamber · 6 months ago

Note

Could you do adeuce & the overblot gang (separately) trying one of those period cramp simulators like in those videos?

Overblot Gang + Adeuce + Rollo trying period simulators!

part 2 with vice housewardens + Kalim

I found the idea funny and added Rollo for funsies, I hope you don't mind <3

Adeuce

Ace, being the daredevil he is, straps on the period cramp simulator first with a cocky grin. “How bad can it be?” he says, glancing at you like this is no big deal.

The moment you turn it on, though, his face transforms. “W-What the—” he gasps, doubling over like someone just punched him in the gut. “Okay, okay, this is—AHHH, NOPE, TURN IT OFF!” He’s flailing now, hands waving in panic as he tries to yank the device off, hopping around like a fish out of water.

Deuce, meanwhile, watches with wide eyes, realizing it’s his turn next. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Nah, nah, Deuce, you gotta try it,” Ace wheezes between pained groans. “It’s character building!”

Deuce, ever the trooper, reluctantly puts it on. At first, he’s stoic. “I can handle this. It’s just a simulation—OH MY SEVENS!” He crumples into a chair, gripping his stomach as though his life depends on it, tears actually forming in his eyes. “HOW DO PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS?!”

Ace, still recovering on the floor, gives him a thumbs up. “We’re never… talking back to anyone going through this… ever again.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle approaches the simulator with the same seriousness he applies to everything else. “This is for educational purposes,” he declares, strapping it on confidently. “I’ll endure it to better understand—”

The moment it starts, his face turns a deep crimson—not from anger, but from sheer pain. His knees buckle, and he grips the nearest chair for dear life, a strained gasp escaping his lips. “T-This can’t be real,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “This is…an injustice to all rules of nature!”

By level three, he’s gasping for air, holding onto the table as if it’s his only lifeline. “TURN IT OFF! THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!”

You switch it off, and Riddle stands there, disheveled and panting, brushing his hair back. “We shall… never speak of this again,” he declares, with his pride barely intact.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona sits back with a smug grin as you offer him the simulator. “Tch, weaklings. I’ve dealt with worse.” he says, lounging lazily as he straps it on. His confidence is off the charts—until you turn it on.

His ears immediately flatten, his eyes go wide, and his whole body tenses up. “The hell is this?!” he growls, clutching his stomach with one hand while the other grips the couch.

By level two, he’s sweating and lowkey whimpering. “Turn it off, turn it off right now.” His tail is thrashing, and there’s no trace of his former bravado. “Whoever made this… is a sadist.”

When you finally switch it off, he glares at you, still slumped on the couch, breathing heavily. “If you tell anyone about this, herbivore, I swear…”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul, ever the schemer, thinks he’s prepared for anything. “This is merely an experiment,” he says, carefully adjusting his glasses as he straps the simulator on. “I’ll be able to handle it with ease.”

As soon as it starts, though, his confident smirk falters. His back stiffens, and he clutches the arms of his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Th-This is...more than I anticipated,” he gasps, his face pale as he tries to remain composed.

By the time you hit level three, Azul’s glasses are askew, and he’s gripping the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. “MAKE IT STOP! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! HALF-PRICE AT MONSTRO LOUNGE, JUST TURN IT OFF!”

Jamil Viper

Jamil raises an eyebrow at the challenge but doesn’t say no. “This is nothing,” he mumbles, strapping the device on like it’s a task on his daily to-do list. You turn it on, and for a few seconds, he seems unfazed. His poker face is strong.

But as the intensity increases, you see his eye twitch. Then, he’s hunched over, muttering a stream of complaints under his breath, his face contorted in a rare expression of suffering. “This… this is inhuman,” he grits out, shaking his head. “I could’ve been cooking, cleaning, or literally anything else.”

At level four, he’s pressing a hand against his stomach, sweating bullets. “How do people get anything done like this? Who’s responsible for this?!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil, in true Vil fashion, approaches the whole thing with poise. “I can handle this,” he says, strapping the simulator on like it’s a designer belt. “How painful could it really—”

The second the simulator starts, his perfect posture falters, and he sits down immediately, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh. My. Sevens. This is—”

By level three, he’s doubled over, one hand gripping his stomach and the other clutching his chest dramatically. “This is unbearable! This pain would ruin anyone’s complexion!”

His voice is full of horror as he waves a trembling hand. “Turn it off before it does permanent damage!”

Idia Shroud

Idia’s hair is already flickering with anxiety the moment you suggest he try the simulator. “Y-You’re joking, right? No way!” But you convince him, and he reluctantly straps it on “I’m going to die, I just know it.”

When you turn it on, his reaction is immediate. His hair flares bright neon pink, and he lets out the most dramatic yelp you’ve ever heard. “OH NO, THIS IS IT! THIS IS HOW I GO!” He’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach like he’s in the final boss battle of his life.

By level four, he’s practically pleading. “I surrender! I’m done! Game over! JUST TURN IT OFF!” His hair is flashing so brightly it could power a small city.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus approaches the simulator with a curious expression. “A device that mimics pain? Fascinating.” He straps it on with a regal air, as if this is just another strange mortal custom he’s willing to experience.

The moment it starts, though, he pauses. His eyes widen slightly, and he places a hand over his stomach. “This… is quite intense,” he admits, his voice calm but strained.

As the levels increase, his stoic expression falters, and he’s soon gripping the edge of the nearest surface. “Is this…what humans endure regularly?” he asks in disbelief. By the time it reaches full strength, he’s staring at you in awe. “You must be incredibly strong to endure this.”

The storm outside, coincidentally, seems to match his inner turmoil.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo looks at the period cramp simulator with his usual air of disdain. "I fail to see the point of this exercise," he says, folding his arms. But with a raised eyebrow from you, he sighs and reluctantly agrees. “Fine. If only to demonstrate that I can endure whatever nonsense you find amusing.”

He straps it on, looking every bit like he’s about to endure a great trial of fortitude. "Proceed," he says, as if commanding an army.

At level one, Rollo barely flinches. He keeps his usual stoic expression. "Is that all?" he asks, voice flat. But as you increase the intensity, his composure begins to crack. By level three, he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw tightens, but he's still maintaining his dignity—barely.

"Interesting... sensation," he mutters between clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady.

By level four, the calm façade is gone. Rollo’s knuckles are white from gripping the arms of the chair, and his expression is a mix of panic and fury. "This... device is an affront to decency!" he hisses, his face reddening. "Surely no one can focus through such—"

You take it up one more notch.

"TURN IT OFF THIS INSTANT!" Rollo practically yells, his voice cracking as he doubles over, utterly betrayed by his own pride. His normally regal posture is completely gone, replaced by a man clinging to survival.

When you finally switch off the simulator, he’s left panting and disheveled, glaring at you like you’ve committed a personal offense. "That... was barbaric," he wheezes, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll never question your complaints again. That was… inhumane.” He straightens his robes and avoids eye contact, the flush in his cheeks refusing to fade.

"Honestly," he mutters, still flustered, "what vile invention is this world coming to?"

Masterlist

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stevesgother · 4 months ago

Text

Little Red Lighthouse - S.H

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings - exes to lovers, second chance romance, angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, idiots in love, so much pining, cursing, alcohol & drug use, mental health themes

WC - 1.3k

AN - this was originally gonna be a super long oneshot, but in typical emma fashion I'm making it into another mini series

Divider by the amazing @strangergraphics <3

The Alcott. That was your favorite bar in Hawkins; and it was all you could think about sitting outside this shitty bar in Chicago. A mere few hours from home, and yet entirely too far. Just having finished school; it was an education completely orchestrated by your parents. A college you didn’t want to attend, a degree you had no enthusiasm for.

This was how you seemed to be spending most of your days post-undergrad: sulking and ruminating. Everything you could’ve had, but don’t.

–

“Steve, this is insane. That’s like a 15 foot drop!”

You say as you peer over the bridge, shivering slightly in just your underclothes. It was only the cusp of Spring, the weather in Indiana hardly what you would consider “warm”.

“Oh c’mon. You said you would!” He barked a laugh.

“I told my mother that if you jumped off a bridge that I would too as a hypothetical.” You deadpan, even though a smile still tugs the corners of your mouth.

He looked lovely, always did. Moles adorning his cheeks, scattering their way down his back and into his boxers where your vision couldn’t reach. He shot you a grin only reserved for you.

“3..2..1 JUMP!”

“Wait!-”

Steve gripped your hand, pulling you down with him into the icy water below the bridge. Unable to decipher if the sinking feeling in your gut was from the rapid fall of his skin on yours. The shock of the bitterly cold water knocked the wind out of you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His smile gleaming at you. Water dripped from his eyelashes, beading on the apples of his cheeks.

“It’s freezing!” you gasp as you surface. He starts to grip your shoulders in his warm hands, then pauses. A sudden nervousness settled and he was staring. You nervously wondered if there was something else in the water with you both. He never broke his stare. Your best friend for a million lifetimes, beautiful as ever. Looking at you as if you hung the moon just for him.

“I think I'm in love with you.”

–

When Steve finally peeled open his eyes and glanced at the blinking red of the alarm clock it read ‘3:00 PM’. His breath tasted of stale liquor as he slowly rose from his unmade bed. Skull pounding, he blindly reached for the painkillers he had made a habit of keeping on his nightstand, for afternoons like this.

Your old friend group planned a ‘welcome home’ party in anticipation for your return to Hawkins. Where you had gone to college out of state and made a new life for yourself, Steve hadn’t seemed to be able to keep his ahead above the violent current that was the trauma he endured here, in your hometown.

As you rested on the train back to Indiana, walkman in hand, you felt an air of nausea.You had started to regret leaving your car at your parents house 4 years ago; unsure whether the knot you felt in your gut was the result of motion sickness, or the thought of having to face him again.

Admittedly you were excited to see your friends again. You hadn’t come home for Christmas, for Thanksgiving, not even for summer breaks – always opting to stay as far away from that living nightmare as possible. You told yourself little lies. That it wasn’t because Steve Harrington still resided there, and with him, everything you lost. Everything you know you can never get back.

The air in Steve’s office was stiff and smelled of stale coffee. Robin sits in a less than lady-like position across from him in a chair unofficially designated for her. A plaque that reads “Chief” sat crooked between them from where Robin had set down the paper bag containing their lunch.

“You’re going to have to face her at some point, Steve.” Her voice snaps him out of his dissociative state.

“Yeah, I got it.” He sighs irritably, all traces of enthusiasm drained from his tone.

“I’m just saying,” she starts, “it's been four years. I’m sure she’s moved on, man. No bad blood.” It’s meant to be reassuring, but she doesn’t understand that that's entirely the problem. He gives her a skeptical stare. “Look, we’ll all be there. You have a ton of buffer people. Just stop by for a few minutes? For me?” The childish pout she gives in an attempt to guilt-trip is enough to push him over the edge.

“Rob- okay, fine. Stop making that face. For an hour. Not a second longer.” He points a finger at her, not unkindly.

–

As your car crunches over the gravel in the parking lot of Robin’s apartment complex, you can’t help but notice it’s already filled with cars despite you being perfectly on time. All the windows you knew belonged to her unit were lit a glowing yellow behind sheer curtains, allowing you glimpses of mingling silhouettes. You wonder briefly if this was intentional, or if in your never-ending brain fog, you managed to jumble the times.

A quick glance around the lot reveals that your friends still have the same cars they did all those years ago. Jonathan’s Ford LTD, Nancy’s Volkswagen Cabrio, and an achingly familiar maroon BMW 733i. Your heart jumps to your throat when you see it, accompanied by a sharp twist of betrayal in your chest as you don’t recall Robin ever mentioning he would be here. You suppose you can’t blame her.

You stop to take several deep breaths at the front door. You can hear the bass of an old, classic tune bumping inside and you try to time your breathing with it. In three, hold three, out three, and repeat. You raise your fist to knock before thinking it silly, so you just give the knob a tentative twist and walk in.

The room erupts in ‘Hey!’’s and ‘There she is!’’s. It’s a relief to realize they don’t hate your guts, even though they’ve always made it clear that they don’t. A nauseating guilt settles over you as you’re reminded of how long you’ve left them with barely any word from you at all– the pain of this town and everything that happened in it just too much to bear; even if they were your best friends.

Back then, talking to them sounded like long, mucousy vines that strangled and trapped. It sounded like the bitter cold and emptiness of your hometown mirrored just beneath your feet. It sounded like watching chunks of flesh be ripped from the stomach of the boy you loved. It sounded like his screams for your help and you just couldn’t– you needed time.

Now though, as they wrap you in hugs and you smell the homey scent of your best friends apartment, it feels less like then and more like now. Over Nancy’s shoulder, slightly obscured by her usually wild curls, you catch the eye of the one person not dogpiling you, and fight the grimace threatening to surface. You don’t hate Steve, not by any sense of the word– you just can’t look at his stupid, beautiful face without remembering what you did to him.

When everyone disperses, satisfied with their greetings, you can really take in Steve’s appearance in front of you. The years haven’t been unkind to him, but he looks tired. Day old, maybe two, stubble shadows his usually bright face. He fills out the red sweater and light wash Levi’s he wears nicely. You think he’ll always have that boyish Harrington charm, but he looks more like a man than when you left him.

You walk towards him hesitantly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

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qyxzun · 1 year ago

Text

🕸️┆𝕻𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

╰┈➤ ❝𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘𝐘𝐘𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, my name is Y/N L/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for about two years, I've been the one and only spider woman. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

Been fighting other bad guys, helping cats off trees, saving plains from crashing into buildings, you know—the basics.

I lost my best friends when I realized one of them was my nemesis.

but that didn't stop me from fighting for the better!

I just wish I wasn't alone. What if there was another universe where someone understood me?

whatever, probably just my imagination.❞

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝟗𝟐𝟔-𝐙, there was you, sleeping in bed so peacefully before your loud blaring alarm on your phone started to ring for the fifth time. You groaned when the sound disrupted your sleep before you finally picked up your phone to check what time it was. your eyes completely widened. You were late for school.

"Shit!" you cursed, pushing yourself off the bed and running to the bathroom to take the quickest bath you could. Taking off your clothes, dosing yourself with the shower's water, and quickly soaping up your entire body. As quickly as you entered, you almost tripped, going out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your soaked body. You ran back to your room, sloppily but quickly putting on your Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform. You still think that school is elitist, but you can't complain for now.

With no time to spare other than lacing up your shoes and taking your unzipped bag, you ran out of your dorm, forgetting to lock the door. You started to quickly jog your way to the school with your bag slung in front of you in an attempt to zip it closed with your papers and work securely inside. Traffic was booming like crazy, which made you groan impatiently. "My luck should really not be affecting my school," you grumbled.

The light finally turned red, letting pedestrians pass. You pushed past multiple people, apologizing when you ran through them as you continued to sprint to the school's entrance. When you finally stepped inside the school, you ran to your locker, put your bag and stuff away, and sprinted so fast to your class before the bell could ring. You arrived just in time, holding your textbooks by the door while a bead of sweat ran down your neck.

You panted, out of breath from running the entire morning, while your professor looked at you, unimpressed that you were late for how many times?

"Tardy again, Y/N. Keep up if you want to pass this year." She said, obviously hinting that you were someone who didn't care about education. Rude.

You nervously walked to your seat with your heavy books in hand while your classmates watched you sit down. Your professor passed by and gave you multiple papers stapled together as your exam. You skimmed through it, and the questions were almost a big blur for you when you saw how hard you should've studied instead of fighting other criminals on a daily basis. You held your mechanical pencil tight, wondering what to write while your other classmates were all silent and focused on the exams, unlike you, who had no idea. You wrote down what you knew, but you still felt anxious. You really didn't want to fail this exam; it could be your last before you would have to move to another school. You liked that option, but your parents worked too hard, climbing the ranks so you could have an easier life once you passed your exams. Since when was life decided by a piece of paper?

Minutes into the exam, suddenly, you heard a loud explosion near the back of your school. It was muffled through the thick walls, yet it was obvious something dangerous had happened. Your spider senses tingled, and you lifted your head abruptly while your class looked around, wondering what that could be while the teacher noticed their confused and worried expressions.

"Everyone calm down! Form a line and carefully leave the school through the front," your professor ordered, yet most students had already started running out of the classroom, ignoring her orders.

You quickly ran out too, pushing past the rest of the students while you navigated back to your locker. You grabbed your bag from inside and forgot to close it, prioritizing the situation at hand as you went to the bathroom.

"Guess I have to do my job again," you sighed while you quickly locked the toilet stall. You opened your bag, your spider suit folded neatly and tucked between your other textbooks inside. You took off your uniform, changing into the tight spider suit swiftly. You made sure to keep your mask securely on; protecting your identity was the most important part of it.

Finally dressed for battle and your bag slung on your back, you climbed out through the restroom's window, flicking multiple webs out of your fingertips. They swiftly stuck to one of the school's large pillars, and they allowed you to swing away quickly. You swung from building to building easily, reaching the back of the school to see seven vehicles crash together, causing a fire to spread throughout the school's background. Multiple police cars and ambulances were parked nearby, with the paramedics taking as many victims as they could on stretchers and transporting them to the ambulance crew.

You saw many policemen trying to save the injured under the rubble and from the fire as well. You knew they could get in the way of your job, so you created a diversion. You shot a web inside the policeman's car, the sticky string immediately reaching and pressing on the accelerator as it slowly moved forward, catching their attention.

"Woah—woah, woah—hey!!" one of them hollered, trying to reach the advancing car alongside his other colleagues. It gave you enough time to reach the exploded area with your webs.

"This is a whole mess," you mumbled to yourself under your mask as you reached another building's wall. You quickly climbed higher and swiftly shot individual webbing from your fingertips, each web reaching pieces of heavy debris on top of the injured. You held and wrapped all five webs around your palm, pulling the rubble off of the victims with your bare hand as your webs carried them to the side.

The concerned police officers ran to the injured with paramedics, yet the fire persisted, causing another explosion near the colliding cars. You were thinking of a plan to somehow save all of these people while you internally grew more anxious.

"What the hell is causing these explosions?" You grunted, frustrated. You loathed seeing people get injured while you tried to think of something. You jumped from the high wall, plunging down as you shot webs toward the heavily injured near the fire. You pulled them close, carrying more than three people while their blood smeared on your spider suit.

You quickly rested their bodies near where the ambulances could see them before you swung back to the high roof of the building. Your spider senses suddenly tingled before you turned around. On the building's edge, you saw the villain behind it all.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You said, looking down to the edge, and saw a lizard... or a goblin? You didn't know. You shot webs once more in its direction, propelling yourself up before you landed a harsh kick in its face. It let out a loud grunt as saliva was knocked out of his mouth. You sent him flying to another building's wall before he collapsed on the ground.

You walked over to it cautiously, a foot on his chest as you stepped on it harder. You glared down at him, looking down at a vile creature who hurt your people. It coughed, its vision blurry before it looked up to you, it started chuckling with your foot on his scales. "We meet again Peter," it said, smirking.

"Who the hell is Peter?" You retorted, raising an eyebrow behind your mask while it looked at you as if you were playing with his head.

"Oh, don't lie now, Peter... I know all about—" The vile lizard was about to continue, but it was cut off when it saw your features more clearly. You had more of a feminine body. Your muscles weren't as built, but you were strong enough to consider its enemy, like Peter. You had bigger hips and smaller shoulders than a man. Not to mention the obvious, your suit wasn't one it recognized. Its expression turned from smug to confused. You weren't the Peter it knew.

With rage blinding its confusion, it growled and grabbed your ankle with its large clawed hand, pulling your foot off its chest as it caused you to almost lose balance.

"Who are you?" It glared, looking at you with disdain and anger. You, on the other hand, were confused about why it didn't know you when you were literally the spider-woman.

"I'm spider-woman? The hero?" You rhetorically responded before it sneered and tossed you to the side of the building. You reacted quickly as you shot webs at its face, blinding it and pulling on the webs before you could hit the wall with its heavy weight. You adroitly landed on the floor again.

"Okay, dude—that's not nice," you pout under your mask while it growled in frustration when your webs blinded its field of vision. The creature almost tore off its eyes, in an attempt to take the sticky web off its face while it bled. The oversized lizard was raging mad before it charged toward you at full speed. You were about to swing burning wreckage to its face with your webs before a sudden brightness appeared from above.

You both looked up in confusion before you suddenly saw a red web hastily tie your green rival into scarlet webbing. It came out of what seemed to be a bright light formed with hexagons while it glitched. You haven't seen anything like it, thinking it could be another threat. "Argh!!!" The creature thundered before you saw what seemed to be another spider-man go through the portal. He promptly punched the lizard's head, blood coming out of its mouth, before it crashed into another building's wall.

The mysterious man stood up once he apprehended the green goblin with his webs. He tied it with his webs effortlessly while you approached him, his head slightly turning to look at you.

"So, like, who are you?" You asked, putting a hand on your hip before he turned around to fully face you.

"Classified," He spoke with a low tone, keeping it short and cold. You hummed, thinking of who he could be.

"You Peter? That green, uh, creature was looking after Peter or something. I don't know," you shrugged while the man was still silent, like he was judging you secretly with that glare.

You cleared your throat, a bit uncomfortable that he wasn't responding to your question. "Well, anyway, gotta deal with the fire and stuff. Gotta go blue panther." You were about to walk to the fire, mostly to save more victims before he stepped in front of you.

"It's alright, kid. I'll take it from here." He responded, his tone still cold, while his hand was slightly raised, telling you to stand down. Your spider senses tingled after he said that. You looked up behind him as you saw the green goblin manage to escape his webbing and cause more havoc behind the tall, muscular spider-man. In a fit of rage, the creature threw a burning truck in your direction.

"Oh, shit—look out!" You yelled, shooting a web at the spider-man's chest before pulling him away from the landing truck. You quickly moved away as well, but suddenly hissed in pain and fell near the fire. You groaned when you saw your burned forearm and noticed that your spider-suit was covered in cinders after smelling something burning.

"Puta madre--!" the spider-man growled before claws started to grow out of his hands. With animalistic ferocity, he chased after the goblin, shooting a web on his way to get to him faster. His speed never slowed down as his legs ran faster and faster, almost like a car on a highway.

Meanwhile, you winced when you pushed yourself up before your senses started to go haywire again. You turned around and saw more people in the burning debris while firefighters arrived and started to put out the flames. You hastily followed the spider-man from before by crawling up on top of a very tall building. Your eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for him. You spotted the lizard causing more trouble as it climbed up the building in front of you. His claws dug into the wall, causing more debris to fall, almost hitting more pedestrians. The other spider-man turned his head around, watching as the debris started to rain down on the citizens. He was so conflicted; he was so close to catching the goblin, yet the civilians were in danger.

"Fuck!" The man cursed, shooting a web to catch the debris, yet he failed. He grunted, turning his attention back to his target. He continued to chase the green goblin. You, on the other hand, thought fast and jumped down while shooting multiple webs to make a gigantic spider web to catch all the falling debris. Your webbing was strong enough to carry the heavy rubble and the burning damage before it could hit the others. Once you were sure it was holding everything in place, you shot another web, swinging yourself to the injured, who couldn't move. You picked them up— two on your back and one in your arms. They were barely alive when you gently laid them down somewhere more safe.

Your head lifted when you heard a cry. "M-Mama! Please! Help!!" A child screamed while you put all the victims away near the policemen. You turned your head back, realizing one of them was still stuck in the fire. You didn't hesitate to run back, propelling yourself into the air to see where the kid could be. You then saw her crawling up into a ball, a toy in her arms, while she looked around with tears in her eyes, afraid of the fire. She coughed profusely, almost running out of oxygen, while tears prickled her eyes. Even with the burnt forearm, you quickly and nimbly landed in front of her, picking her up easily while she didn't know what was happening. Yet she held onto you tighter than her toy. You shot another web at a building, pulling the two of you up before swinging away to where it was safe.

When you slowly descended to the ground with the child hugging your neck tightly, you saw a weeping woman on the ground with multiple injuries. Your eyes softened, worried behind your mask. You looked back at the kid, noticing she looked like she could be her child. You approached her. "Ma'am," you called out to her, getting her attention before you put down the kid in front of her. She gasped and brought her into her arms, pulling her into a very tight hug while they both wept.

"Thank you," the woman whimpered before looking up at your masked face. "Thank you for saving all of us." She smiled while sobbing, looking around at the people you saved. Even though they were injured, you managed to save all of them. You nodded your head, smiling behind your mask as you flashed her a thumbs-up.

You heard a thump behind you, hinting that the tall spider-man was behind you before you turned around to see him holding the green lizard with his red webs. "Hey," you said, looking up to him. "Caught the lizard?" As you chuckled, you noticed that he still had that unfazed look on his face. It seemed like he was trying to put up a brave front in front of the crowd. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat before responding.

"Follow me," he ordered with a reserved tone as he shot a web and pulled himself up to a very tall skyscraper. You followed behind him, the wind blowing into your face before you landed gracefully on top of the skyscraper.

There, you saw him tap on something on his wrist before another portal opened, the same bright orange hexagons forming the strange entrance while they rotated slowly. Your eyes squinted from how bright it was, while he still had the same expression as before. He got ready to throw the lizard into the portal, while it struggled and squirmed under his tight webs. "This is not the last time you'll see me, Peter!" It yelled, glaring daggers at you and the tall spider-man, until he was thrown into the portal. It created a short blast before the portal returned to normal.

You were quiet for a bit, not knowing what to say. He then turned around to face you, the portal closing very slowly while he approached you. "I'm from another dimension," he admitted while you gasped dramatically, knowing the obvious.

"You are.?! Woahhhhh.." Your eyes were wide behind your mask. He glared at your sarcasm, crossing his arms as it showed his muscles behind the tight suit.

"Take this seriously, chiquilla," he monotonously replied before clearing his throat and looking away. There was a small pause before he spoke. "You showed great abilities when you saved all those people." As soon as you received the compliment, his eyes shifted back to you while yours lit up with joy. It felt like you were a kid again, basking in the glory of a teacher's praise for acing a test.

He didn't say anything else. He looked down at his hand and slowly formed a fist. You watched him, wondering what he'd be doing. You tilted your head to the side, trying to see what was in his palm when it slowly opened. After a few more moments, he opened his fist.

"A watch?" You looked confusedly before he tossed it to you; you easily caught it, observing it. "What the hell is this for?" You asked, looking back at him. You finally noticed that it was the same watch he had on his wrist.

"You'll feel more at home," he responded stoically. He took the watch and helped you put it on properly. "... and we can use the help," he said.

"Who's we?" You asked, bewildered, becoming more baffled than ever. You'll feel more at home, he said. What did that even mean? You took off your mask, getting a clearer view of him, as you had a concerned face. "Who even are you?" You replied like you were annoyed for not knowing the entire truth.

His mask slowly distorted into pixels as it showed his face. "Miguel O'hara." He simply responded, looking down at you with his intimidating, tired brown eyes. He then slowly turned around, walking to the portal that hadn't been closed yet. You watched him enter the bright hexagons before you watched him disappear in front of your eyes.

You gripped the watch tightly.

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

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haggishlyhagging · 2 years ago

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“By 1900 child mortality was already declining—not because of anything the medical profession had accomplished, but because of general improvements in sanitation and nutrition. Meanwhile the birthrate had dropped to an average of about three and a half; women expected each baby to live and were already taking measures to prevent more than the desired number of pregnancies. From a strictly biological standpoint then, children were beginning to come into their own.

Economic changes too pushed the child into sudden prominence at the turn of the century. Those fabled, pre-industrial children who were "seen, but not heard," were, most of the time, hard at work—weeding, sewing, fetching water and kindling, feeding the animals, watching the baby. Today, a four-year-old who can tie his or her own shoes is impressive. In colonial times, four-year-old girls knitted stockings and mittens and could produce intricate embroidery; at age six they spun wool. A good, industrious little girl was called "Mrs." instead of "Miss" in appreciation of her contribution to the family economy: she was not, strictly speaking, a child.

But when production left the houschold, sweeping away the dozens of chores which had filled the child's day, childhood began to stand out as a distinct and fascinating phase of life. It was as if the late Victorian imagination, still unsettled by Darwin's apes, suddenly looked down and discovered, right at knee-level, the evolutionary missing link. Here was the pristine innocence which adult men romanticized, and of course, here, in miniature, was the future which today's adult men could not hope to enter in person. In the child lay the key to the control of human evolution. Its habits, its pastimes, its companions were no longer trivial matters, but issues of gravest importance to the entire species.

This sudden fascination with the child came at a time in American history when child abuse—in the most literal and physical sense—was becoming an institutional feature of the expanding industrial economy. Near the turn of the century, an estimated 2,250,000 American children under fifteen were full-time laborers—in coal mines, glass factories, textile mills, canning factories, in the cigar industry, and in the homes of the wealthy—in short, wherever cheap and docile labor could be used. There can be no comparison between the conditions of work for a farm child (who was also in most cases a beloved family member) and the conditions of work for industrial child laborers. Four-year-olds worked sixteen-hour days sorting beads or rolling cigars in New York City tenements; five-year-old girls worked the night shift in southern cotton mills.

So long as enough girls can be kept working, and only a few of them faint, the mills are kept going; but when faintings are so many and so frequent that it does not pay to keep going, the mills are closed.

These children grew up hunched and rickety, sometimes blinded by fine work or the intense heat of furnaces, lungs ruined by coal dust or cotton dust—when they grew up at all. Not for them the "century of the child," or childhood in any form:

The golf links lie so near the mill

That almost every day

The laboring children can look out

And see the men at play.

Child labor had its ideological defenders: educational philosophers who extolled the lessons of factory discipline, the Catholic hierarchy which argued that it was a father's patriarchal right to dispose of his children's labor, and of course the mill owners themselves. But for the reform-oriented, middle-class citizen the spectacle of machines tearing at baby flesh, of factories sucking in files of hunched-over children each morning, inspired not only public indignation, but a kind of personal horror. Here was the ultimate "rationalization" contained in the logic of the Market: all members of the family reduced alike to wage slavery, all human relations, including the most ancient and intimate, dissolved in the cash nexus. Who could refute the logic of it? There was no rationale (within the terms of the Market) for supporting idle, dependent children. There were no ties of economic self-interest to preserve the family. Child labor represented a long step toward that ultimate "anti-utopia" which always seemed to be germinating in capitalist development: a world engorged by the Market, a world without love.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

#barbara ehrenreich #Deirdre English #child labor #capitalism #patriarchy #amerika #industrial revolution

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 11 months ago

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Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 3

Any Viking/Norse words and customs were found on Google, so if it's incorrect please educate me!!

Summary: Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of. A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has. Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way?

Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

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Y/N held Bucky’s arm as he led her through the village. People who hadn’t been down by the shore watched her walk by, some of them bowing and others smiling widely. They reached a tall black structure, the hof, or temple as Bucky explained, and she was separated from Bucky and brought inside. She followed Winnifred until she was presented to a group of women who were surrounding a bath. They were all in simple strapped dresses, as the heat of the water dampened the air heavily.

“We must prepare you for the marriage ceremony tonight,” Winnifred said. Y/N nodded, trying to relax the nervous flutter of her heart. “They will take care of you, and I will come for you when they’re finished.” Y/N was stripped and washed extensively. Her hair and teeth were brushed and cleaned, her body scrubbed in all the crevices, even in spots she was embarrassed being touched. She took it all in stride, assuming that it was customary. When it was all done she was dried off with a fine blanket and then dressed in an outfit like what Winnifred was wearing, but the dress was a dark green color and the fur adorned on her shoulders was that of a fox, the red complimenting the dress nicely. Her hair was braided and her fingertips dipped in a red paint that dyed her skin quickly. She was given a necklace that attached to her dress made of beads, metal and bone. A circlet crown was placed atop her head nestled in her hair, made of finely woven metal, more beads and tiny pieces of gold.

Winnifred came to collect her and brought her to the front door of the temple. “I will present you to our people, and you will be given a new name,” she explained.

“A new name?” Y/N questioned. “What’s wrong with my name?”

“Nothing, my child. You will go by both names. Y/N, your English given name, and a new Danish one, given by prophecy from a seer…me,” she gave Y/N a wink. Y/N nodded as Winnifred tapped the doors with her staff. They opened instantly from the outside and Y/N was greeted by everyone in the village, torches lining the way as nightfall set in. Winnifred led her out into the small clearing in front of the temple. “I give you Y/N, a lost daughter of Freya, our soon-to-be Drottning and wife of my son, James.” She lifted her hands towards the sky. “I call upon our Aesir! We present this child to you for reclamation!” Her hands shook and a faraway rumble of thunder was heard, making the crowd of people mumble as they watched the sky. The clouds seemed to clear for a moment, and as the stars peeked through Winnifred smiled. “Astrid,” she beamed. She placed her hands on Y/N’s face. “Y/N Astrid, daughter of Freya, Drottning of the Danes, child of the stars.”

The crowd of people cheered as Y/N smiled at Winnifred. Winnifred led her to Bucky who stood nearby. He had also bathed and was dressed in a long dark red tunic, brown pants and deep brown boots, an even longer fur coat on his shoulders. His braids and hair adornments were renewed and he wore a necklace with a round pendant. Y/N gawked at him, appreciating him all cleaned up as he took her hand, leading her through the people. Many of them reached out their hands to touch her, speaking to her in their language and some in English congratulating her and welcoming her. Bucky led her to a clearing in the middle of the village with a large bonfire heating the area. There were garlands covered in flowers and fruit, furs placed throughout the seating areas, and people playing instruments she didn’t recognize. A few women were singing along with the music, their voices hauntingly rippling through the air. Something about the whole thing felt so right, so comforting, so true, that Y/N fought back tears watching them celebrate.

They approached an arch made of antlers where another woman dressed similar to Winnifred stood. As people got into positions around the fire and seating areas the woman held her hand up to quiet the players and singers. She held up her painted red hands that were holding a braided rope that was made of fabrics, ribbons and a strip of a black animal pelt.

“Frigg! We bring to you a couple wishing to bind themselves together in life and beyond.” She gestured to them to give her their hands. They presented their entwined hands to her and she proceeded to bind their hands together. She started what sounded like a prayer in their language and Bucky lowered his head. Y/N followed quickly. As the prayer continued Y/N felt her power flowing through her without thinking about it or calling upon it herself. Her hands began glowing in the binding, and as the woman’s voice rose in volume the power seeped into Bucky’s hands. He didn’t react at first until the power seemed to inject into the veins of his hand. His eyebrows furrowed, then a low hiss passed through his teeth, and then he began to shiver as the green light zapped through him. Y/N looked on in horror, trying to release his hands but unable to because of the binding. She looked at the woman, who was still chanting, and then behind her to Winnifred, who just nodded at her with a serene look on her face. Bucky shivered more violently then suddenly stopped, his body almost going rigid before a heavy sigh left his mouth. The woman finished her prayer and did the motion in front of her face that Bucky and Winnifred had done in greeting before turning towards him.

“Awaken, White Wolf,” the woman said quietly. Bucky’s eyes opened and he blinked rapidly until his gaze met Y/N’s eyes. She gasped upon seeing her power flash in his irises before it disappeared. “You now share the power of Freya, Jarl. She has bestowed her gift through her daughter to you. Your children, their children, and their children and so on will carry this power, this gift, this responsibility. Treat it well and with respect, else it will be taken from you and lost forever to the land and its people. May it bless your lives together.” She reared back and let out what almost sounded like a howl. The people around them all did the same.

“Frigg and Freya bless this union happily. You may seal this marriage with a kiss.”

Bucky still looked shocked at what had just happened but smiled as he leaned down to Y/N. He pressed his lips to hers as they shared their first kiss. The people around them cheered, and yet Y/N couldn’t hear them. She was too entranced by his lips, the softness, the tenderness, but most of all the fire it ignited deep within her. A rush of their now combined power flowed through them and melted into the ground below them, creating another whistling wind that sounded like laughter and a rumble in the earth that sounded like a hum of acceptance.

He pulled away and grinned widely at her. The woman untied their hands and Y/N immediately brought her hands to his face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t mean to hurt you–”

“I’m fine, my Drottning,” he kissed her nose. “I feel…reborn.” Y/N huffed out a laugh as she scratched his beard, the worry still etched on her face. “Now we celebrate, Asynja,” he pulled her along to one of the seating areas and pulled her into his lap.

The night was filled with songs and dances and performances. There were even fights, with the people making bets on who would win. Mead flowed heavily and food was shared as the night drew on. Y/N was approached by many of the people, some of them just to say hello, others to bless her and Bucky, and others who asked for blessings from her to their children. Y/N didn’t know what to say, and yet each time something deep inside her seemed to take over and the words just spilled from her mouth. After hours deep into the night Winnifred stepped forward.

“It is time for the union to be completed,” she motioned to Bucky and Y/N to follow her. There were some “oohs” and “aahs” and whistles heard through the crowd as Bucky excitedly pulled Y/N out of the clearing and back towards the temple. Once they’d reached it the women who had bathed Y/N before opened the doors for them. A large bed had appeared in the temple where benches and tables had once been. Y/N tensed as she knew what was to come next. “Here I leave you. Congratulations my dear Bucky,” she took his face in her hands again, giving his cheeks a pinch, “and welcome to the family, Y/N Astrid,” she walked up to Y/N and pressed her forehead against Y/N’s forehead. She gave them one final head bow then retreated back towards the clearing.

Bucky pulled Y/N into the temple and the doors were closed behind them. Y/N was still tense as she stared at the bed. The temple was warm, making her start to sweat under the fox fur she wore, but she was afraid to make the first move and take anything off. She knew what the wedding night entailed, how it was done, but had never done it before herself. It was a strict rule that an English princess was to be untouched by anyone until her wedding night with her new husband. Y/N didn’t know if the Danes had different traditions.

“You look afraid,” Bucky observed.

“That’s because I am,” Y/N answered quietly.

“So it’s true? The English don’t let their royals do anything until marriage?”

“Yes,” Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “At least, they try. Have you done this before?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, but not because I wasn’t supposed to. Just because, well, war,” he said somberly. “Never got the chance. Or found someone I’d be willing to be with.” Y/N nodded, her eyes flitting around the room. Her breathing became heavier as her nervousness gripped her heart. “Hey,” he stepped in front of her. “It’s going to be fine. We will learn. Together.”

Y/N nodded again as she tried to slow her breathing. Bucky pulled her chin up with his finger so she would look at him. He leaned his face down to her and brushed his lips down her cheek leaving a wake of small kisses across her nose to the other cheek, and then hovered above her lips. Y/N’s eyes fluttered as she watched him, her eyes flicking back and forth from his eyes to his lips. He pressed his lips against hers like he had for their first kiss, then angled his head to deepen it, pressing more firmly against her mouth. The fire deep within her was ignited once again as his lips moved against hers. Her hands gripped his shirt as his arms wrapped around behind her and pulled her flush to his body.

Bucky walked backwards with her until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He slid his fur off and then broke the kiss and sat. His hands slid from her face to her shoulders and unhooked the fox fur off of her, then slid behind her and untied the back of her dress. It loosened around her and she let it slide down her body. She wore an almost sheer underdress and some underwear underneath it. Bucky pulled her underwear down and helped her pull the underdress over her head until she was left bare before him. Y/N instinctively started to cover her breasts with her arms, her legs trying to cross to cover her most private parts, but he held her still. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, don’t hide from me.”

He leaned forward and kissed her stomach then dragged his lips across her skin to the underside of her left breast. He kissed it, making her shiver, then licked his way to her nipple, giving it a soft lick and then sucking it into his mouth. Y/N’s hands shook as they laced behind his head, holding him against her as he nipped lightly at her skin. His hand went to her other breast and massaged it, his fingers rubbing her other nipple.

Y/N’s knees felt like they were about to give out from the pleasure she felt at just his mouth and fingers on her. She gasped as he switched breasts, his mouth now laving at the opposite nipple. He let out small whimpers as he sucked and licked her, his breathing becoming faster. Y/N moaned at a particularly hard suck, her head falling back. Bucky’s metal hand slid down in between her legs, his fingers rubbing her lower lips until he found the little spot that had her nearly buckling against him. The metal against her skin felt glorious. His mouth let her breast go with a pop and he stood.

He turned and pushed Y/N onto the bed and motioned for her to scoot up as he kicked off his boots. He pulled his shirt, pants and underwear off and stood before her. Y/N’s heart rate jumped as she looked at him. The contrast of his metal arm against his skin was tantalizing, but she was shocked by the amount of markings he had on his body hidden under his clothes. A tapestry of animals and runes littered his torso and his right arm. As her gaze wandered down she audibly gulped. This man was huge in every way. Her widened eyes made him laugh. “It will be alright, Drottning,” he said as he crawled onto the bed. “I will get you ready for me.” He laid on his front and hooked his arms around her legs, pulling her body towards him so that her core was in front of his face. She tensed, not knowing what he was doing. He felt her hesitation and smiled up at her. “I’ve been told that this helps. You’ll like it, I promise,” he winked at her. Y/N nodded. He kissed her thigh and then dipped his head down. She wasn’t sure what to expect until she felt his tongue lick her slit and she gasped loudly. He licked her lower lips languidly then would dip further into her and flick at her entrance. He moved upwards and found that spot again, flicking his tongue quickly on it. Y/N’s back arched, her hips trying to twist out of his iron grip, not because it was painful but because it almost felt too good.

“Bucky…” Y/N moaned, her hands pulling at his hair. It only spurred him on, a deep hum from his mouth vibrating into her pussy, making her squeal. He sucked on the spot and unlooped his flesh arm from her hip. She felt one of his fingers start to prod at her entrance that was quickly getting wetter by the second. He slipped his finger in then thrust it in and out slowly. Y/N felt a tension deep in her gut start building. He slipped another finger into her, stretching her as he thrust them in and out, picking up in speed as his lips sucked her spot into his mouth. The tension was making her see stars, her legs trying to clamp shut around his head. He then sped his fingers up again and started flicking the spot harshly with his tongue. Y/N moaned loudly as the sensations all became too much and she felt the tension snap inside her. She felt a gush come from her by Bucky’s mouth as she nearly ripped at his hair. Her legs shook uncontrollably and her hips bucked violently. The feeling started to ebb away and Bucky pulled his fingers out of her, licking some of the liquid that came from her before pulling himself up.

“Taste so good, my Drottning,” he said in a husky whisper. He lifted his wet fingers to her mouth. She opened her mouth instinctively and he put them in, making her taste herself. She moaned a little at the taste as she tried to breathe normally again.

Bucky’s fingers retreated and he put them in his own mouth, licking up anything left she didn’t get. He spread her legs further apart and settled between them, his hips inching closer to hers. Y/N tensed again, knowing what he was about to do. “I don’t think it will…” she started, then shut her mouth.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing her again. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Y/N hesitantly nodded. Bucky took his stiff cock in his hand and pumped it a few times, making himself moan, then lined it up with her pussy. The head of it slowly pushed into her, making both of them groan. Y/N tried to relax but felt herself tensing at the intrusion. Bucky stopped and began sucking at her breasts again, distracting from the pain and pressure. As he worked her into another pleasurable frenzy he would slowly inch forward, until he was fully sheathed inside of her. Y/N appreciated him going slow, letting her adjust to him, and when he was all the way in she sighed.

“It feels…so full…” Y/N said dreamily. The fullness was making her feel delirious, like she had been missing something she didn’t know was a possibility. If it always felt this good she wanted him inside at all times.

“So tight, Asynja. Ah,” he gasped as her pussy fluttered around him. “Gods, you feel so good…so right,” Bucky slowly pulled back then pushed forwards, letting her feel every part of him. Her hips trembled again, her legs wrapping around his hips as he continued to thrust in and out of her. She looked down at where they were joined, watching him move in and out of her, the sight making her whine deep in her throat. Bucky moaned at the noise she made, pulling her head up with his hand and kissing her passionately. As their tongues entangled his hips started moving faster, making her gasp against his mouth as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Feel good, my Drottning? You beautiful, powerful, strong woman…destined for me,” he whispered against her ear as his head dropped into the crook of her neck. He thrust harder into her, making her fingers dig into his back. “Mine,” he nearly growled as his hips rolled.

Y/N felt a heady drunkenness setting into her mind, her head feeling foggy as the pleasure took over all of her senses. She felt herself nodding as he claimed her. “Yours,” she babbled, whimpering with each hard thrust as the tension built again deep in her core. “Your Drottning…your Asynja…my Bucky…” Bucky suddenly hauled himself up, holding her against him so that he was thrusting up into her. The angle made her yelp as he felt even deeper than before.

“That’s right, you're mine…I’m yours…Y/N Astrid, my star,” he pulled her down onto him as he thrust upwards.

The snap was unexpected and even more tightly wound this time, so much so that when Y/N screamed his name it reverberated through the temple. She clung to him as her entire body tensed and she gushed around him. Her pussy squeezed him like a vice and he shouted as he finished inside of her. Y/N could feel him filling her up and it prolonged her shaking around him as she whimpered with each shock she felt spread from her pussy. Bucky fell to the bed, stopping himself from crushing her at the last second. They lay together, sweaty and exhausted as they came down from the high.

Bucky turned his head and kissed Y/N’s cheek softly. She smiled, her tired eyes blinking slowly at him as he rubbed his nose against hers. “I think we’re pretty good at this,” he huffed out a laugh. Y/N giggled, then groaned as Bucky slid his cock out of her, making him hiss. He lay next to her as they both stared up at the ceiling. Y/N felt around for his hand and laced her fingers in his. Bucky smiled widely at the gesture.

Just as Y/N was on the brink of falling asleep she felt a fur being draped over her and a kiss to her forehead. She smiled dreamily and snuggled close to Bucky’s warmth. She had done it. Married the supposed enemy, created an alliance that brought peace to his and her people, and found a new home that was accepting of her and the magic she possessed. She missed Alfie terribly, but hoped that in due time, if her ability had shown her correctly, he would be alright and become the great king he was destined to be.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #viking!bucky barnes x reader #viking!bucky barnes #viking #medieval #chapter 3 #princess!reader #powers!reader #magic

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owlespresso · 10 months ago

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dogged pursuit. dr veritas ratio. p3 of ? / part 1, part 2 summary: you've been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he's easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags. suggestive content, reader insert is a bit of a freak, mr dr ratio is getting OBJECTIFIED!

He’s doing it, again. You’re sure he’s not even cognizant of it. The irresistible nature of him, nestled in every curve and bough of his body, perfect and smooth as the statues he painstakingly labors over.

He’s been quieter, today. You get the sense that he feels a little guilty about his tantrum yesterday. It’s already water under the bridge, as far as you’re concerned. He can have a mouth on him because he’s pretty. Because you’re sure there’s some deep-seated inferiority complex entrenched at the root of his behavior.

What you can’t abide by is him sneaking off to go out on his own. You’ve made the rookie mistake of sneaking in a short, afternoon nap, only to wake and find him nowhere within your shared domicile. You’re his body-guard. How are you supposed to guard his body if he doesn’t tell you that he’s going out for a run?

Watery sunlight filters in through the half-opened blinds. It’s cloudy, today. A pressure weighs heavy in the air, the kind that rolls in before a nasty storm. You’re half-resolved to go out looking for him, even though you know he can well handle himself. Fortunately, he strolls in through the front door before you have to make that call.

He’s in a t-shirt and shorts that don’t even reach his mid-thigh. They’re too tight for him, fabric hugging his ass, his hips. You let your gaze roll up the length of his calves and thighs, skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat. A bead of it rolls down the side of his face, caresses the sharp angle of his cheekbone.

“You didn’t tell me you were goin’ for a run,” you grouse at him. He bends down to undo the laces on his white sneakers, and your fingers clench tight into fists. Long, smooth legs. Shiny with perspiration from the run, glimmering underneath that dull sunlight. He leaves his shoes against the wall all neat-like, and then turns to lock the front door. He takes his sweet time in answering you, makes sure you know your concerns are hardly worth his time. Brat.

“You were asleep,” he says. His voice is airy with faux innocence. “I’m not a child. I’ve told you countless times that I do not need an escort—I am an adult—a doctor, mind you, and I can very well take care of myself. The fact that I fended off my assailant on my own should be proof enough of that.”

“I know all that—you’ve been telling me since the day we met. But think of it from my point of view. If anything happens to you while we’re here, anything at all, it’s my head on the line! There’re IPC goons crawling all over this town. What if one of them sees you, without me, thinks I’ve been slacking, and reports me to the higher ups?” you tilt your head to the side. Once again, you’re reminded of how few friends Veritas Ratio has likely ever had—how wanting to educate the universe’s populace doesn’t necessarily equate to his ability to see another person’s perspective. He’s arrogant, yes, but he isn’t devious. He wouldn’t hope to get you in trouble.

“I…” he says, and then swallows. The conflict plays out across his face. As subtle as it is, you can see it in the way his jaw tightens and his lips purse together. It takes only a few seconds before he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Very well. I… apologize. I failed to see it from your point of view. We may have our… disagreements, but I wouldn’t want to see you harmed.”

“Disagreements? What’re you talking about?” you say, flatly. “I agree with almost everything you say, all the time.”

Another pause. “Yes, you do.” He sounds pained. He runs a hand through his wind-tousled hair as he approaches the table, where a water bottle sits next to a blue and white vase. “About that, you should make more of an effort to form your own opinions, even if I happen to not agree with them.”

“Oh?” you grab his wrist. “Really? You’re the kinda guy who likes being listened to though, aren’t ya?”

“You make me sound like some sort of tyrant,” Veritas scoffs. “Having a social circle populated by individuals with diverse opinions is healthier than being surrounded by mere yes-men,” he says, spitting the word out with no small amount of venom. “That’s how the Genius Society has declined so steeply in the last few decades, only approving those who fit a very specific set of standards. It’s a recipe for stagnation, I tell you, and the blind worship paid to them—”

You half-listen to him. He winds himself up with no prodding from you at all, expression warped with displeasure at the mere thought of his intellectual rivals. You lean over and draw his sweaty hand to your mouth, kissing the back of it. He cuts himself into a series of surprised, and indignant splutters.

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” you coo, swiping your tongue over the back of his wrist. The tang of sweat-borne salt nearly makes you shudder.

He draws his hand back to his side like he’s been stung, and you release him with a coy smile. He cradles it to his chest, pale cheeks flushed with color. And he gets stuck like that, for a few seconds, completely jarred. For all the whining you’ve heard about his temper and supposed long-windedness, all it really takes to strike the mighty doctor silent is a few, choice actions.

“You are a menace,” he glowers, and stomps towards the stairs. The steps groan underneath his weight. You admire the plump curve of his ass, the flex of his thighs with each angry step.

Evening turns and tosses into deep night. The house is swaddled in deep shadow. You think about the taste as you stare up at the ceiling, remember the way his ears had turned pink in the pale grey light.

A pulse of thunder groans in the distance.

#hungering for hsr #dr ratio/reader #dr ratio x reader #series dogged pursuit

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citrineandrosmarin · 3 months ago

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🦉Athena Masterpost: Offerings🦉

🐍 Masterpost Link 🐍

Last updated: 23 Feb added bee stuff to items / 23 March, added to food UPG

A mix of UPG, SPG and Historical associations, please share your own in the comments or let me know if you share a UPG!

Gemstones & Metals:

H: Gold, Bronze, Silver, Iron

SPG: Lapis Lazuli, Onyx, Iolite

UPG: Rainbow Fluorite, Sodalite, Obsidian, Smoky Quartz, Kyanite, Bronzite, Tiger’s Eye (Any color), Tiger Iron, Blue Aventurine, Blue Calcite, Red Jasper, Flame Jasper, Lepidolite, Moonstones, Zoisite, Amazonite

Plants:

H: Olive, Ivy, Thyme

SPG: Rosemary, Cypress, Peppermint, Orange

UPG: Oak, Pine, Oregano, Peppers, Basil, Marigold, Dandelion, Yarrow, Geranium, Tiger Lily, Mint, Rose, Hellebore, Bay Laurel

Incense and Fragrances:

H: Frankincense, Thyme, Bay Laurel, Amber, Myrrh, Dragon’s Blood

SPG: Orange/Orange Blossom/Blood Orange, Citrus, Cedarwood, Cinnamon, Cypress, Bergamot & Sage

UPG: Pine, Musk, Oakmoss & Amber, Clove, Nutmeg, Pomegranate, French Vanilla, Sandalwood, Mint, Patchouli, Mint, The incenses “Pagan Spell,” “Celestial Bliss,” and “Tree of Life”

Food & Drink:

H: Olives and Olive Oil, Honey, Milk, Cheese, Cereal Grains, Diluted Wine, Bread, Baked Goods, Fish, Meat, Fruit (e.g. pomegranates, grapes, raspberries, pears)

SPG: Water, Fruit juice

UPG: Mint Icecream or tea, Rooibos (Redbush) Tea, Black Tea, Chocolate, Apple Cider, Coffee, Anything Raspberry flavored, Cinnamon Apple Oats,

Items & Miscellaneous (Almost all SPG and UPG):

Historical:

Miniature votive shields, helmets, swords, spears, or arrowheads, Pottery, Hymns, Poems, Jewelry, Animal figurines, Glass beads, Libation bowls, Terracotta figurines, Statues, Coins

SPG and UPG:

Music playlist, Mood boards, Perfumes, Candles, Books, Bookmarks, Acorns, Bay leaves, Snake skin, Animal figurines, Owl feathers, Gull feathers, Horse Hair, Any helmet, spear, shield or sword imagery, Gorgoneions, Depictions of her favorite heroes, anything bee or honey related.

Trophies, Medals, Diplomas, Good grades, Essays or other academic writing you’ve written, Study Tools, Graduation Caps

Any kind of handmade craft, Craft tools, Pottery, Yarn, Knitting or crochet needles, Polymer clay sculptures, Art, Origami, Wool

Devotional Acts (All SPG and UPG):

Using olive oil, Reading her myths, Donating to charity or doing some volunteering, Learning Ancient Greek, Learning about the history and culture of Ancient Greece

Playing strategy or puzzle games, Playing Escape Rooms, Any exercise that combines logic and creativity, World-building, Using your skills and learning new ones, taking classes to learn a skill.

Developing your intellect, Reading non-fiction, Doing research, Learning to think critically, Studying, Tutoring, Learning to code or any computer skills, Reading up on current science, Watching TEDtalks, Listening to educational podcasts or videos.

Doing any kind of hands-on craft like knitting, crochet, sculpting, etc. or learning a new crafty skill.

Exercise, Learning/Practicing self-defense or a martial art

Donating to charities for military veterans, Donating to those suffering from war, Learning about the Geneva Conventions, Staying educated on current wars and past wars

Being politically aware/active, Activism, Playing colony sims e.g. Civilization series, Getting involved in your community.

#athena masterpost #athena #athena deity #athena devotion #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #athena offerings #athena devotionals

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 8 months ago

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by Kylie Ora Lobell

Now, Klompas has come out with a book, “Stand-Up Nation: Israeli Resilience in the Wake of Disaster” (Wicked Son), which is a unique approach to Israel activism. Rather than sharing news about the war, this book highlights Israel’s altruism towards the world.

“Today, Israel is nicknamed the ‘Start-Up Nation,’ and it is celebrated for its booming economy and ingenious innovations,” she wrote in the book. “Less celebrated is the story of how Israel lifted up other nations as it lifted up itself — the story of Israel, a force for good in the world.”

“Today, Israel is nicknamed the ‘Start-Up Nation,’ and it is celebrated for its booming economy and ingenious innovations. Less celebrated is the story of how Israel lifted up other nations as it lifted up itself — the story of Israel, a force for good in the world.”

Klompas’ book outlines MASHAV’s work, such as when they built the first utility-scale solar field in East Africa, spearheaded clean water initiatives in Israel, Jordan, the West Bank and Gaza and provided meals to starving children in India.

“For a while, Israel became a global leader in supporting newly independent states. Precisely because it was small and poor, Israel had an advantage over larger, richer, and more established countries,” Klompas wrote. “It was a model and source of inspiration for newly emerging nations facing their own array of challenges.”

She saw this with her own eyes. After finishing up at the UN, she founded and led Project Inspire, an initiative to show Israel’s work in social, environmental and economic development in low-income nations. She ran tours in Uganda, Kenya, Guatemala, India and Nepal, showing participants how people in these countries utilize Israel’s teachings and technologies to tackle poverty and inequality.

When Klompas traveled, she saw Israel in “the most unlikely of places,” she wrote. “While trekking in East Africa and walking through a small craft market, I spotted a handmade beaded bracelet with the flag of Israel alongside bracelets with the flags of Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. In the remote hills of Nepal, I happened upon a group of children, and as I passed by they yelled to me: ‘Shalom! Namaste! Hello!’ In Uganda, I visited a remote island on Lake Victoria. Getting there required a windy bus ride, followed by a rickety boat ride, followed by another bumpy bus ride. When we finally reached Osanidde Village, an orphanage for children with HIV, we were greeted by teenagers who sang the Ugandan national anthem followed by ‘Hatikva.’”

“Stand-Up Nation” is a callback to what Israel really is, and what a massive impact the small Jewish State has had on the world – a much-needed reminder post-Oct. 7, when it is being bashed everywhere we look. Klompas believes that enough isn’t being done to communicate Israel’s nation-building initiatives.

“I think I’m the first one to write a book about it, if not one of the first,” she said. “I’m not sure that people who have been to Israel dozens of times are even familiar with MASHAV. How many people know this story about Israel as a developing country and founding an international development agency at the same time? It’s an untold story. And the more that I learn about it, the more it shocks me that people don’t know it.”

#aviva klompas #stand up nation #israel #jewish state #hamas #gaza #israeli resiliance

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fartasticdurge · 3 months ago

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The Sepulcher

Bellara is starting to figure out these slice-of-life serials. So here's a new one, at a certain bar, where Emmrich prepares a certain drink that may or may not mean something more.

When Emmrich suggested a date, descending yet another flight of narrow stairs past the already dimly lit bar hadn’t been what Rook envisioned. Each step felt heavier than the last, the shadows deepening with every turn, wrapping around her like a silent question she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer.

At the bottom, the room seemed carved from the dark itself, the faint chartreuse glow of a single lantern casting restless flickers across the rough stone walls. The air carried a chill that bit at her skin, laced with the faint, metallic tang of damp earth and something older—something forgotten. It could have been a cellar, a tomb, or perhaps both, and its starkness mirrored the unease she tried to keep buried.

A small, round wooden table sat at the center, heavy and worn, as though it had endured centuries of secrets. Two mismatched chairs flanked it—an odd choice for someone as particular as Emmrich.

The silence stretched between them, taut and sharp, like the bowstring of an archer waiting for release. Rook’s usual ease—the quiet confidence that often settled over her in Emmrich’s presence—had been left somewhere upstairs, lingering in the faint hum of voices and clinking glasses of the bar above. Here, in this shadowed space, her thoughts felt louder, pressing against the quiet in a way that made her skin itch.

They sat across from each other, the small table feeling less like a bridge and more like a barrier. Rook’s jaw tightened as she stared at the shelves behind Emmrich, her fingers absently tracing the splintered grain of the wood beneath them.

She refused to speak first. Instead, she let her attention drift, deliberately avoiding his gaze. Her eyes roamed over the shelves carved into the stone wall, lingering on weathered tomes and porcelain figurines, their delicate curves and intricate details easier to focus on than the weight of the moment. Bottles of mysterious elixirs shimmered under the dim light, their contents murky and strange.

Emmrich didn't say anything for what felt like eons, as the notes of the music above hovered in the air between them like the susurration sighs of a restless river. Eventually, he rose from his seat and took a few items from the shelves behind him before placing them carefully on the table.

Rook leaned back in her chair, resting one boot casually on the edge of the table. She watched Emmrich with keen interest; at the other end, he rolled his sleeves, the golden bracelets clinking softly as they settled on his forearms. He meticulously examined the tools, ignoring her attempt to distract him.

"Thought this was supposed to be a date, not a science experiment." Rook pressed when her boot did not produce even a single crease between his eyebrows.

"If you expected simplicity, I'm afraid you've misjudged me. Absinthe, like most things worth appreciating, requires precision and care."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she watched him pour the vibrant chartreuse liquid into two delicate glasses. "And let me guess, you're going to lecture me on the proper way to drink it?"

Emmrich placed the glasses down with deliberate care. "Not a lecture, Rook, since I know you're not fond of those. An education."

"Oh, education, kinky."

Unperturbed, he reached for a small, intricately carved spoon, placing it across the rim of one glass before setting a sugar cube atop it. The flickering light danced across his face as he picked up a frosted and glistening pitcher, its surface jeweled with beads of condensation that slid down like slow tears.

"There are several ways to prepare absinthe, each with its own nuances. The classic method involves the slow drip of cold water over sugar, creating a louche—a transformation of the liquid into an opalescent haze."

She arched an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, despite herself, as he carefully poured the water, watching the green liquid cloud and swirl. "A transformation, huh? Looks almost... like your magic."

Emmrich's face softened, his gaze lifted briefly to meet hers, making her acutely aware of how fast her heart started to beat. The inkling of doubt started to set in, but she did not want to lose yet another argument with him since she knew she was right this time.

"It is, in its way. The interplay of elements, the shift in color and texture—it's alchemy distilled into a glass."

His voice was low and steady, each word deliberate. She found herself watching not the glass but his hands—the sure, graceful way they moved, the faint tension in his wrists as he worked, the delicate clinking rising and falling like the gentle murmur of a wind chime of his golden bracelets.

It reminded her of the diligent way he cast spells, the way he would use them animatedly to explain something when he was very excited, or how proficient he was with those fingers deep inside her or anywhere on her body, for that matter. Rook squinted her eyes shut to shake the imagery away. She leaned her chin on her hand as she took her foot off the table, looking intently at him.

"You're really into this, aren't you? It's... kind of pretty."

Emmrich smirked faintly as he set the pitcher down and she dammed his beautiful and expressive face for being so alluring and fascinating to look at.

"I've always believed there's beauty in ritual. Each step has purpose, each action meaning. Much like..." He trailed off, his eyes meeting hers fully now, the unspoken weight of his words settling between them.

Rook tilted her head, hating how much she wanted him to continue that, lingering on his words. "Much like what?"

Emmrich leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping. "Much like you, Rook. Unpredictable, yes, but every moment deliberate. Every action meaningful."

Her breath hitched faintly, the cool air of the basement suddenly feeling warmer. She broke the tension with a laugh, though she felt her cheeks starting to burn.

"Alright, Emmrich, you win. Consider me impressed."

He picked up the prepared glass and slid it toward her, his expression softening.

"Impressed? I was hoping for intrigued."

She reached for the glass, her fingers brushing against his as she took it, like a spark-catching kindling, igniting something unspoken and she couldn't help the smile that seemed to want to settle on her face.

"Maybe a little of both."

He started working on his own glass, the faint clink of glassware the only sound in the room for a moment. She hated this, hated trying to keep being mad at him when he was so kind and thoughtful.

"I did what needed to be done. We got through it, didn't we?"

Emmrich didn't look at her, he continued with the diligent water pouring into his glass, but he paused for one second before resuming. "You survived, yes." His voice had dropped low and steady, carrying the kind of edge that silenced any argument before it began. "But recklessness is not the same as decisiveness. You'd call it a win because you were fortunate. Fortune is not a strategy, Rook."

Rook sat straighter in her chair, spine a drawn bowstring, every muscle poised for the strike. "And overthinking everything isn't a strategy either. Sometimes, you just have to act."

Emmrich's voice lowered, his gaze steady on hers, his hands hovering over his unfinished drink. "Act, yes. But without consideration, it ceases to be an act of leadership and becomes a gamble. One I'm not willing to stake your life on."

The tension between them thickened, the faint hum of the lantern filling the silence. Rook set her glass down harder than necessary, her eyes narrowing.

"You think I don't know what I'm doing? That I don't think about the risks before I take them? Everything I do, I do for us—for the people who trust me to lead. I don't have the luxury of second-guessing every step."

Emmrich spoke quietly, his words slipping through the air like calm ripples cutting through her storm, softer but no less unyielding.

"And I don't have the luxury of pretending I'm not terrified every time you put yourself in danger without pause. Perhaps that is a failing of mine, but I refuse to apologize for it."

She blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his tone. For a moment, her anger softened into something else—something heavier. She hated this. "Emmrich, I..."

"I understand why you do it. I do. But you must understand—watching you risk everything without hesitation doesn't inspire confidence. It inspires fear."

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and she ran a hand through her hair, letting out a breath.

"I just... I have to trust my instincts. It's how I stayed alive this long."

"And it's what makes you remarkable. But trust doesn't mean discarding caution entirely. It means finding balance. Trusting that I—and the others—can help carry the weight."

She stared at him, the tension slowly giving way to something quieter. She sighed, the familiar frustration of his influence settling over her as she realized he'd swayed her opinion yet again. "You're really bad at letting me win, you know that?"

Emmrich smirked, his tone slipping into something almost unctuous, smooth and knowing, yet layered with that maddening charm she couldn’t quite resist. "I thought you preferred a challenge."

"You're impossible."

With a lighter but still taut voice, Emmrich raised his glass. "Is that a confirmation of exercising greater caution?"

Rook clicked her tongue, annoyed for having lost yet another argument to him. His literary works may have contained a degree of prescience. She needed to delve into his books, meticulously searching for weaknesses in his logic to better dismantle his arguments.

She clinked her glass against his, the faint tension still lingering but softened by their shared smile. "To alchemy, then. And to overly complicated drinks. And maybe being a bit more cautious."

"To discovery. And to chaos with a purpose."

As she took her first sip, the sharp, herbal taste mingling with the sweetness of the sugar, she found herself watching him again—his calm demeanor, the way the shadows softened the edges of his face.

When he brought the glass to his lips at the same moment, it was as if the air between them carried a whispered ghosting brush of a kiss. Sitting with him in the comfortable quiet had become one of her favorite pastimes.

"Can I show you something?" Emmrich asked after another moment of silence.

Rook nodded.

Emmrich got up and picked up an item from one of the shelves. When he sat back down, he held up a small magical crystal, turning it between his fingers as the faint glow pulsed rhythmically. Rook leaned back in her chair, one eyebrow raised, unsure where he was going with that.

"You know, this crystal is a perfect example of resonance magic."

"Ok?"

Emmrich smiling faintly like he was in on a joke she had not yet gotten, which was fair considering how that was the case sometimes. "It's a paradigm—a shift in how each element behaves. Resonance occurs when two forces vibrate in harmony, amplifying each other. But if one gets even slightly out of sync..."

He tilted the crystal slightly, and the glow flickered, dimming for a moment before stabilizing again.

"It fizzles out? Sounds like a lot of work for something so fragile."

Emmrich arched an eyebrow, letting out a sharp, indignant scoff. "Fragile? Hardly. When done properly, resonance can generate enough power to level a mountain."

"So what you're saying is... two forces perfectly in sync can make things explode?" Rook asked, her eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief and barely contained excitement.

Emmrich set the crystal down on the table with deliberate care, leaning back in his chair. "If they're aligned correctly, yes. But it takes precision—and trust."

He let the words hang for a moment, his gaze lingering on hers, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. There was something in his eyes, a simmering intensity that made her stomach flip—a challenge or maybe an invitation. Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to focus on the way his fingers rested, so effortlessly composed, as though he knew exactly what effect his words would have.

"Of course, it helps if one of the forces isn't constantly testing the limits of the other."

Rook crossed her arms glaring at him as a warm flush crept up her neck. "What, are you saying I'm out of sync?"

Emmrich leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just a touch. "Not at all. I'm saying you keep me on the edge of it—and somehow, that's where the real magic happens."

She blinked, her grin faltering for the briefest moment as if the realization had landed with the soft weight of a stone sinking into still water, sending ripples outward. "Wow, this really is a date, huh? You only ever pull those out when we're on dates. You cheeky bastard."

Emmrich settled back with a faint smirk. "You asked for enlightenment, Rook. I simply delivered."

"Well, then maybe you should deliver some more of your magic." Rook said as she leaned over the table, much like the first time he did on their first date in the garden.

"Happy to oblige, my love." Emmrich leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in love's embrace: a delicate strength that binds hearts like silk cloaked in iron.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #emmrich volkarin #fanfic #ao3

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garymerlow · 21 days ago

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Get To Know Your Mutuals

Pretending I was tagged by @starrybouquet cause I need the distraction and I love answering questions about myself in a non-therapy setting, LOL

What’s the origin of your blog title?

It’s a line from Mark Owen’s song “Come Back”, which has been speaking to me lately. (Actually, I think if I’d heard it in any of the time since it came out, it would’ve spoken to me the whole time, but that’s neither here nor there)

OTP(s) + Shipnames

Too damn many to name, seriously! I’m a bit of an equal opportunity shipper, it’d be easier to get a list of pairings I don’t ship. Sorry if that’s a bit of a cop out.

Favorite Color

Yellow 💛 , though I love red/black/white/gold together in any combo. Light blue also really speaks to me as well. I just love colors…

Song Stuck In Your Head

Hard to have a song stuck when I’m listening to music right now. What’s playing is U2’s “Crumbs From Your Table”.

Weirdest Habit/Trait

Can’t talk too much about eyeball stuff or even really look into someone’s eyes in person without my eyes watering aggressively. It’s fucking embarrassing as hell and has lead to a fair few awkward moments.

Hobbies?

Not even sure I’ve got a lot of what constitutes as ‘hobbies’ right now? I guess my occasional photo editing and rare bead bracelet making would suffice, though the bracelets especially have been solely for myself.

If you work, what’s your profession?

I sort clothes at a thrift store, pretty much. It’s a lot more physical labor than you’d expect, but I get to listen to music or podcasts or fic all day long, and I rarely have to face customers, so I’m pretty happy there even if it feels like I don’t exist in the eyes of my coworkers 95% of the time.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

The dream jobs that always cycle back regardless of impossibility are: special education teacher, music journalist, drummer/bassist/singer in a band though not all at once, and fashion designer…what lofty dreams I have, huh?

Something you’re good at?

I pride myself at being a good listening ear, if nothing else. I’m also pretty good at identifying 80s hits, but that’s not helpful unless it’s trivia night.

Something you hate?

The complexity of romance/friendship/sex.

Something you collect?

What don’t I collect LOL? I’ll just say pins/buttons.

Something you forget?

I apparently forget people’s birthdays…so sorry about that!

What’s your love language?

Shared experiences, always. Call it a side effect of my lifelong loneliness, but I cherish experiences with people I hold dear.

Favorite Movie/Show?

Favorite movie is Ocean’s 11, favorite show is 21 Jump Street :^)

Favorite Food?

Red beans and rice first and foremost…but beyond that I’m pretty basic and just love peel and eat shrimp.

Favorite Animal?

River otters! Or platypi!

What were you like as a child?

I’m probably not the one to ask about this if I’m honest haha…I was dealing with not properly diagnosed autism and social issues stemming from not talking until I was 4.5 yrs old. I used to chase boys on the playground and threaten to kiss them if I caught them (I never did but once) because I thought being boy crazy was something everyone did but I went too far with it. I was obsessed with dogs and cats, obsessed over cartoons and animation history, listened to oldies music from the 60s-80s while my peers were obsessed with Disney Channel music and hip-hop…I was a bit of a bookworm but not in the way other neurodivergent kids were to my knowledge. I had noise sensitivity issues that made social situations in large crowds REALLY tough. I’ve been told I was caring towards classmates who didn’t have a voice when I was able to lend that support. I wanted to be friends with everyone even if I wasn’t good at keeping them. Besides the constant company of my older sister, my childhood was pretty lonely on the whole.

Favorite subject at school?

Anything with computers, then history/social studies, then English. Could take or leave everything else.

Least favorite subject?

Math, but turns out it’s probably because I have the math form of dyslexia (along with ACTUAL dyslexia lol)

What’s your best character trait?

I…I don’t know. You should REALLY be asking my mutuals about that, I can’t come up with anything besides my kindness, I guess?

What’s your worst character trait?

I’m self introspective to the point of obsession, and it kinda leaks out into other factions of my life, especially my self esteem/image.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

I wish I had a more solid support system, but that’s something I should’ve been working on for years. But I think that would change my life/outlook on it more than anything short of systemic social change right now.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

There’s living people I’d like to meet right now (Robbie Williams and Michael Stipe spring to mind first), but if we’re speaking people who have passed, I’d say I’d either like to meet Michael Hutchence, or I’d like to have one more day with my late grandfather.

Leaving this as an open tag for whomever wishes to do this, I’d love to read your responses!

#long post #tag game

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rederiswrites · 5 months ago

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The problem with owning property, buildings, and even animals roughly equivalent to a medieval estate--except, you know, minus the many workers who would normally do the work on said estate--is that no matter how long the list of my accomplishments for the day, the list of shit I didn't do will always be longer. I've managed quite a productive day considering I couldn't sleep last night and didn't get up till noon. In the last six hours I've done three loads of laundry, put away two, cleaned and vacuumed the master bedroom and kitchen, scheduled a mammogram, ordered prints of family photos, hauled water to twelve shrubs, cleaned the litter boxes, taken out the compost, and watched educational videos and discussed math lessons with my son, among other things. On the other hand, now the annealing furnace is hot, so it's time to make beads. But it's also the last half hour or so of light I have outside to plant bulbs in and time to make dinner, my knee has just gone out in some mysterious way that will probably resolve itself if I don't stress it, and I've only just remembered that I poured vinegar into the hall toilet two hours ago, but haven't yet scrubbed and flushed it.

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lottiesnotebook · 2 months ago

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Hey, there! 7, 10 or 11 for the Laidir prompts, if you want!

Thank you so much for the prompt, and the brilliant post it's from! I'm going for 10. Rook attending a meeting of Rivaini seers in the capital, and I'm writing about my horrible nepo baby Cara Hawke Laidir, ofc, but I can't wait to see what other people come out with!

Cara Hawke-Laidir & Isabela, Rivaini culture and customs, homesickness

@hyperions-light | @dadrunkwriting

familiar ground's a distant thing

"Rise and shine, Rook!" Isabela's voice is disgustingly loud and cheerful, given how hungover Cara is from her birthday celebration the night before. "We're taking a trip!"

"A what?" Cara attempts to reply, though it comes out more as Uh wuh?, muffled by the pillow she's pulled over her head. She'd drunk half the Hall of Valor dry, partially from curiosity to see how many Lords she could cadge a birthday drink from, partially to smother the sickening homesickness of her first birthday away from her family. At home, she'd have her mother, her father, her Justice. At home, she wouldn't feel quite so alone - the only mage on Isabela's ship, the only person who sees the unseen spirits that flood the streets of every village. With Justice, she knows what she's seeing is real. Alone, she feels like she's jumping at shadows, the things nobody else can see.

Isabela, of course, is not inclined to indulge her misery - when Cara doesn't immediately bounce out of bed, she splashes water over her head, making her shriek.

"A trip!" she repeats, with a malicious grin. "Don't think I haven't noticed you moping."

"I'm not moping," she grumbles. "I'm tired. You work me like a dog!"

"That's what you get for being the youngest of my mages," she retorts, dragging away her blankets with ruthless efficiency. "And also the worst-educated. Up! We're going!"

"Where?" Cara demands, but Isabela only grins, and chivvies her out of her bunk and down the gangplank.

Where, it turns out, is a vast temple, far more crowded than any Chantry cathedral she's ever seen, filled with women of all ages- and, she realises, all mages.

"It's convenient," Isabela comments, "that your birthday falls so close to All Souls Day. I wouldn't want the rest of the crew to think I'm favouring you for letting you have the day off."

"Of course you're favouring me," Cara sniffs. "I'm your favourite."

"Brat," Isabela flicks her lightly on the ear. "Come on. Thought you'd like to talk to at least one of your parents today."

The seer she takes her to is a practical, plump-faced woman, hair held back in beaded braids. She kisses both Isabela's cheeks, and Cara's too, and holds her face in her hands, examining the thin lines of blue that crackle across her eyelids.

"Spirit's child," she murmurs, in Rivain, tilting her head this way and that, and there's a flare of comfort that floods Cara's veins at that - the first time anyone has seen her for what she is, and named it a blessing. "You would be a great seer, if you spent less time with this imp." She swats at Isabela's backside like she's a naughty child, and Isabela dances back, laughing.

"Take care of my little Rook, Auntie," she says. "I want her back in one piece."

Cara feels almost shy, now, left alone with the older woman. Her father would call her a hedge-mage, but there's a wisdom in her eyes that makes Cara feel like an awkward little girl.

"Nobody's ever called me that before," she admits. "In the south, it's- it has to be a secret." She knows too well the words people would use for her: abomination, demon's daughter.

"Here, we would call you a blessing," the woman says, with a smile, and for the first time in a year, Cara feels she's come home.

#fic #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #cara hawke laidir #the caraverse #isabela dragon age #rook laidir

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jpriest85-blog · 10 months ago

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Put together a collage of my Werewolf MC Hala from @barbwritesstuff Bloodmoon and decided to include some additional info and hedcanons about her.

Name: Hala bint Badr

Pronouns:she/her

Height: 5ft.5”/165.1cms

Appearance: An average height Arab woman with a tan complexion, dark brown curly hair, hazel eyes, aquiline nose and medium build. Hala is often seen wearing layered clothes, homemade jewelry, and a headscarf or hijab, usually in red.

Wolf form: Resembles an Arabian wolf with dark, brown fur, that’s darker on her back and tail tip, and lighter beige on her stomach, ears and muzzle. Hala is smaller than her packmates, with larger ears, and a shorter thinner coat.

Conviction: Be Kind

LI: Marco

Alpha: Aliksander, deceased. Hala, current.

Misc. Info & Headcanons

Hala’s name means halo around the moon in Arabic, and her surname means daughter of the full moon.

Her mother’s name was Sama which means sky in Arabic.

Sama’s pack originally came from a desert climate but like most werewolf packs they had to move to safer territories in other countries.

Hala’s mother never saw the ocean in person until her late teens, and she learned to swim from Jay during their brief romance. Sama later taught Hala how to swim as a way to pass on something from Jay to their daughter, other than his eye color.

Hala has a caffeine dependency but prefers tea. After moving to the city Ed introduced her to boba tea and she got hooked.

Hala prefers not to drink alcohol due to disliking the taste. As a result Hala and Farro usually wind up as designated drivers whenever their packs meet up.

Hala is prone to getting cold easily even in her wolf form. So she often dresses in layers and/or will cuddle with pack members for warmth.

Hala and her mom used to spend a lot of time in public libraries when they used to travel. They had free textbooks and resources to help with Hala’s education, and the nicer ones even offered free classes or activities for people.

Hala learned to make jewelry at one of those libraries and even used to sell the things she made with her mom. After joining the pack Ed helps Hala sell her jewelry online, but she still gives out jewelry for friends and loved ones for free as gifts. As a result every member of the pack owns at least one piece of jewelry or customized accessories made by Hala.

Hala also does little arts and crafts projects with the kids when she is on babysitting duty. This instantly made Hala Izzy’s favorite person when Hala made her a tiara from an old wire hanger, some beads, and glitter.

As far as Hala’s own jewelry preferences go she tends to wear clip-on earrings, usually made of copper or nickel.

Hala’s mother used to own some gold bracelets from the old country that were originally going to be passed down to Hala as a bridal gift if she found a mate. After their pack died though Sama wound up pawning the gold bracelets to support herself and Hala.

Back when Hala was still a stray she used to go out in deep water to swim on nights when there is the full moon, that way she was less likely to hurt someone late at night in the middle of the ocean or lake. Worst case scenario she might swim too far from the shore, wind up exhausting herself and drown. Hala figured that was a better risk than giving into the moon and killing someone, the Alpha and Minjo however did not agree. They were both very distressed at how casually Hala explained that she first wound up in their pack’s territory because she got lost looking for a body of water deep enough to potentially drown herself.

Hala still keeps her mother’s seashell necklace and wears it constantly. Jay made the necklace for Sama as a gift after their first date taking her on his bike to the coastline.

Hala learned how to apply jacket patches from Addie and Elma.

Hala’s favorite jacket is a denim and fleece jacket that used to belong to Marco. He gave it to her shortly after she first joined the pack when he noticed she’s more sensitive to the cold, and told her to keep it because she looked cuter wearing it. She started developing a crush on Marco after that and added rose patches to the sleeves so she could always be reminded of Marco when she wears it.

While Hala didn’t become as close with Vicky as she did with Ed. She always respected and admired Vicky. Sure they don’t alway agree on things but Hala understands that sometimes you have to make the hard decisions, especially since Vicky had to become another parent for Ed growing up when she was still a kid herself. After becoming the Alpha Hala knows she can trust Vicky explicitly to keep the pack safe, but she’s also trying to make Vicky understand she can also depend on Hala and the others to help protect and look after her too.

After becoming the Alpha Hala takes different jobs and learns new skills to help the pack and their new home. She starts working at a craft store so the pack gets discounts on everything from school suplies to fabrics. She becomes a certified notary to help the pack when they need to verify important documents and paperwork. She even undergoes training in her wolf form to become a registered therapy dog.

Likewise Hala tries to encourage and support her pack members with whatever they need. Like helping take care of Minjo’s kids if she eventually decides to complete her training to become an official registered nurse.

#bloodmoon if #oc collage #werewolf mc hala #oc info

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sarahmeeps · 9 days ago

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OC Tag Game

I was tagged by @blujayonthewing to talk about a blorbo, so here we go!

I'll tag @miladypotaty and anyone else who wants to play

— GENERAL

Name: Hollis Bern

Alias: -

Gender: F

Age: 29 (older than I was when I created her, younger than I am now. weird feeling)

Spoken Language: common, orcish, learned some elvish swears while her bestie was studying elvish properly lol

Sexual Orientation: bi, with a preference toward men, but definitely has a crush on her childhood-friend-turned-information-broker. She’d answer this question with a shrug, though

Occupation: technically she works for the dungeon inspector’s guild now. The party’s monk got her a job there as his subordinate, but seeing as he left the party to be caretaker of some temple they purged of evil and won’t be returning, Hollis doesn’t know if she’ll still be employed when she gets back to the city or not. In the past, she got by with odd jobs, from dishwasher to dockworker to highwayman

—FAVOURITE

Colour: candy apple red or a dark silvery blue

Entertainment: she liked going to the theater that one time, loved the storytelling competition her best friend entered, and will watch the monk fight in pit fights at the local bar/casino but won’t participate

Pastime: she’s recently taken up whittling. She made a badger-shaped hair bead for her best friend, whose animal companion is a little badger named Burger

Food: she’ll never turn away food (including that red vine she found on the theater floor), but she has a preference for hearty, filling meals and baked goods

Drink: she really enjoyed the floral-infused water she tried when the party visited the Elf Continent

— HAVE THEY...

Passed University: she lost access to formal education when she was about 8 years old so… no

Had Sex: yes

Had Sex in Public: not in public-public, but it’s hard to find privacy in some of the group living situations she’s been in

Got Tattoos: not by choice. She has a small black x tattooed on each hand between her thumb and forefinger to mark her as a twice-caught criminal, which makes getting caught again a Bad Situation (idea stolen shamelessly from Tamora Pierce’s Circle of Magic series). She’s considered tattooing around them to obscure them. She hasn’t got around to it yet, but one day she wants flowers shaped like bears’ heads surrounded by twisting vines on the back of her hands and up her arms

Got Piercings: no

Got Scarred: plenty. Hazards of the job. None with fun stories, though

Had a Broken Heart: hoo boy… her boyfriend started a gang of highway robbers, and when they were caught, he named Hollis as their leader to save his own ass. She spent years in Awful Fantasy Magic Prison for it (due to her already having strike tattoos against her), but to Hollis, the betrayal was the hardest part. She had lied for him, and he hadn’t been worth her trust.

— ARE THEY...

A Cuddler: not really. She enjoys being physical, but needs to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. She's had to bug out too many times in the middle of the night to feel comfortable being pinned down.

Scared Easily: it takes a lot to rattle her, unless she feels trapped in a space

Jealous Easily: that's kind of how she landed in the whole highwayman mess, honestly

Trustworthy: if you've earned her loyalty, absolutely

— FAMILY...

Siblings: none (that she knows of. I’ve toyed with the idea of her estranged parents having kids after Hollis was thrown out)

Parents: estranged. Hasn’t seen them in nearly half her life. Was kicked out as a result of going into her first barbarian Rage trying to protect her mother from her father’s abuse

Children: none

Pets: none, but she’s good friends with the druid’s animal companion Burger

#Oc asks #ask games #Hollis

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j1ho · 8 months ago

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( park bogum. twenty eight. non binary. he+they ) LEE JI HO has been spotted around the neighborhood, i think they’re a waiter at infierno. i heard from a friend of a friend that they’re cordial, diligent & sharp-tonged, stubborn. it’s no wonder they’ve made it this far in the city, they’ve been here for all of their life! now that i get a good look at them they kinda’ remind me of talk by beabadoobee.

≡ BASICS .

full name : lee ji - ho , 이지호

nicknames : jj

gender & pronouns : non binary & he+they

sexuality : bisexual

age : twenty₈

nationality : korean - american

ethnicity : korean

current location : manhattan , new york

living conditions : typical to any eligible bachelor in new york, jj lives in a disheveled studio apartment with just about anything spread across any surface. delayed bills, old recipes, vintage trading cards, and crumpled newspapers. his plants are overdue for a watering and the fridge is stacked with leftovers. the only organized area in their apartment is their room, with everything in its designated place --- clothes hung categorically, by their designated occasions. aside from being dedicated to his work & never having time to sort the place, his cat doesn’t make things any easier by wandering around the place while they're at work !

≡ BACKGROUND .

current occupation : taught chess to kids when 18-22, currently a waiter!

dream occupation : as a child he has always enjoyed making his own meals and would often dream about owning their own restaurant, a dream that carries on inside him. his love language is making people food <3

past occupations : has worked as a bartender, a busboy, and much more.

social class : working class

in debt? : no...

educational achievements : graduated with a phd in mathematics & accepted into law school, but shortly dropped out.

family : father ( alive, lee kiyoung ), mother ( deceased, jung nabi ), & older brother.

pets : a brown tabby cat named mimi, but he does take care of a lot of strays.

prized possession : a family portrait of when he and his brother were younger, a jade bead bracelet his mother used to wear, recipes his mother used to make, & a box of unused herbs his grandmother has gifted him.

≡ PHYSICAL .

height : 1.82 m

eye color : dark brown

hair color : dark brown nearing black

physical strength : surprisingly above average

speed : a little above average thanks to having to walk everywhere

intelligence : above average

agility : average

stamina : average

ailments : asthma, imposter's syndrome.

distinguishing marks : has lots of scars from childhood and cooking accidents, wears contacts, usually misses a wrinkle or two when ironing his clothes, constantly wearing his mother’s bracelet.

character inspirations : lee harker ( longlegs ), baek yijin ( 25 21 ), choi han kyul ( coffee prince ), kid ( monkeyman ).

≡ PSYCHOLOGY .

MBTI : infj

enneagram : type iv

≡ STORY .

triggers : parental death, implied abuse.

you were quite the handful growing up, always climbing up those trees your mother would beg you to avoid. always getting stuck and requiring your older brother to come get you or worse … the same old group of firefighters who gave you that scolding look. in school, you make friends quite easily and whether it was because you were such a social butterfly or the intimidation behind your surname, you weren’t too sure. as a child though, you never understood the gravity of things like that. money and name, that all seemed so trivial.

the more you grew, the more you took after your mother. your eyes, the pout of your mouth, and your insatiable love for cooking. your most cherished memories are in the kitchen, with your mom, face powdered with flour. imagining as though you see inside a michelin starred restaurant, hurrying to produce the most lavish meals. sneaking chocolate chips into your mouth when your mom wasn’t looking. feeding biscuits to the dog when your father wasn’t around. and thankfully, during your formative years, he was never around.

one of the last things you remember your mother telling you, nearly pleading, was to follow your heart. [ she’d grown sicker and sicker over the years, a well-kept family secret, up until the end. she dies shortly after your high school graduation. ] you’ve grown older and you understand things like money and the weight your name holds. you don’t want to be a disappointment, an embarrassment. always the creative, doe-eyed child, part of you had wanted to follow in your brother’s footsteps. so cool and collected, very business chic—practically manufactured for the corporate world. [ another part of you, still so wary and fearsome, wants to make your father proud. just once, you want to make him crack a smile. ] so, instead of using your mathematical expertise to measure flour and herbs, you use it for something more … practical, as your father had called it. it was between that or law and you didn’t have the icy quality for that world.

though you have time & time again expressed your intellect through academics, you feel as though something just isn’t breaking through to you. mathematics, theory, and science all come so easy. it’s too rigid and limiting, you realize. a part of you, a very integral part of you, is being locked away. there aren’t risks in this world to be taken, everything is very cleanly cut and sharply outlined. obtain that certificate, congratulations, and now, spend the rest of your days by a cold desk, tie hanging around your neck, and own that miserable, office job. no, that isn’t the kind of world you want to live in.

there is no worse dread that fills you knowing how easily someone ( such a figure in your life ) will toss you aside. how easily your own blood will discard you. your father immediately cuts you off at the mention of culinary school—at the idea of dropping out of law school [ which you had only gone to for him, you had been living your whole life to be like them! to live up to that oh-so glorious LEE name ]. the door hits you on the way out, straight whack! into your forehead. living in new york, with four roommates, and routinely chowing down on takeout is a stark contrast to the very comfortable, expensive life you’d been used to. but, you remember what your mother had said and how life is just too short to have your dreams stay as just dreams. if anything, you live because of her.

thankfully, your amiability and socialization do you some good in adulthood. you hear, from a friend of a friend’s friend, about this little, very 'low key' [ or so they had said ] nightclub which seems to be all the hubbub for the nepotistic, snobby socialites you once pranced around with. it’s absolutely perfect in all its glory. in a way, it’s as though you’re getting your revenge ; after rounds of interviews & some serious consideration, you’ve landed yourself a job at the joint.

≡ HEADCANONS .

been there about six ( coming onto seven ) years, still no promotion ! and has seen so many people come and go … both employees and clients alike.

think of that one employee who everyone knows. like everyone, even the person you think has to have been there the longest knows them. they’ve seen some shit, they know all the tips and tricks. they’re tired. they’re a veteran, why are they getting in a yelling match with the sous chef ?

if you’ve seen kitchen nightmares, you know those servers/waiters who are basically the backbone and the glue keeping everyone together from losing their shit? i am going to tell you right now he’s that person. god forbid if gordon ramsay ever comes to infierno jiho airing their shit out without a doubt.

despite being tired af after a long night’s shift, when he goes home, there’s nothing more thrilling than trying out a new recipe or some kind of food someone may have even mentioned to him.

if ur on a smoke break with him he’s either that coworker who doesn’t want to fw anyone or asks you the most out of pocket question like “if you had a daughter would you let them date x? yea that’s what i thought”

actually very kind and caring of people he works with even if he’s getting head to head with someone. they’ll probably settle it over drinks after work or go back to normal in two minutes.

that one fucker who don’t play about spade !!!

huge mamas boy with crazy daddy issues ( hello .. zuko here ) and crazy hopeless romantic ):

#ehq.intro #oh brother this guy stinks #sorry this is so long u guys i usually write no intro at all or an entire novel <3

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