#I don’t remember that but also that’s a small thing for you to still be upset about

[seasonallydefective]

I had this happen, and it was the same person saying all of it. I lived with a friend who would, out of nowhere, be blatantly mean to me — interrupt me when I was trying to talk about things and then suddenly have nothing to say once I shut up, make fun of me for having academic passions/pursuits, tell me I was too loud or annoying or strange.

And when I finally hit a point where I wouldn’t talk at all, or show interest in things, and didn’t want to go do anything with them, they acted all affronted that I didn’t seem to feel safe or happy around them.

As if that was a conscious choice I was making to upset them, in particular.

rare vent art from a few months ago

[pencil-n-pen]

SPILL YOUR GUTS

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

practice boyfriend! eddie x fem! reader

summary: eddie’s your practice boyfriend. you’re positive he’s upset at you and you’re waiting for him to get mad. however, he has a different response in mind.

cw: references/allusions to past child abuse but extremely vague, references/allusions to bad relationships (also pretty vague), reader acts on a learned response and assumes the worst about Eddie, anxiety

tags/tropes: angst, hurt/comfort (my brand!) sappy sappy romantic idiots, they kiss and figure their mess out at the end

a/n: this came to me in a vision

summary makes this sound smutty but i promise it’s not. this accidentally became disgustingly romantic. read at your own risk :)

࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re positive Eddie’s mad at you.

Okay. Maybe positive is a strong word. But still.

You’ve only been fake/pretend/practice dating Eddie for about two weeks now. He’s the one who approached you with the offer— when you were in the Upside Down together, you’d made an off-hand comment about how you might die without ever having a real boyfriend- not one that mattered, anyway. It’s always kind of been a sore spot for you for a good portion of your life. Growing up, you didn’t really have the best relationship with your dad (Robin likes to call that “The understatement of the year, and we almost died.”) and out of the incredibly small handful of guys you’ve gone out with, none stuck around longer than a month and all ended in such equally, specifically, and uniquely horrific ways, you finally came to the conclusion you had to be fucking something up. What are the chances of all them ended so completely horribly?

After you all had decidedly not died in the Upside Down, Eddie approached you with an offer: pretend date him. You’re popular and well known enough that it’ll help get people off his back about the whole Chrissy/murders thing —even though he’s been absolved of all charges, the people of Hawkins hold grudges— and in exchange, you get a trial run of a relationship that won’t end unless you both agree too— you get to figure out what you’re doing wrong.

You feel bad about it, because even though you spend so much time together, you feel like a nervous wreck. All. The. Time.

You’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop— waiting for him to tell you that you’re too weird, that you’re not considerate enough, that you’re selfish, or that you talk too much.

But he never says any of it. All he ever tells you is the good things. He tells you how sympathetic you are, how kind you are, how good you are at remembering little details that matter. He tells you that you’re a good kisser.

(Yeah. Your first kiss, even after those failed relationships, ended up being with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You’re not quite sure you’ll ever forget how you felt when his lips —just a little cracked, but not rough— met yours; when his hair tickled your face and you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clings to all of his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them. You didn’t tell him he was your first. That’s something you decided you couldn’t bear to share.

You kind of have a feeling he knows anyway, though.)

It all sets you on edge. You’re under no reassurance that you’re perfect. You’re currently questioning if you’re tolerable, from a romantic standpoint.

You know how you are. You’re clinging and you drink up reassurance like a dying man in the desert. You linger in his casual touches like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever feel them. You know you’re a lot. You know. You know that guys in a relationship don’t want ‘a lot’, they want a pretty thing to hang off their arm and laugh at what they say.

But you just… can’t.

You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But you always ended up being too much, or it didn’t work out for some other reason. You want more. You want to feel safe, and happy, and cherished and loved and all those things that only happen in the movies.

The ironic part of all of this is that when you first started setting out terms for your arrangement, Eddie had told you flat out: “This will only work if you are completely and one-hundred percent yourself. You gotta lay it all on me, angel.”

And so you had, and now you regret it because he’s upset about something.

You’d come over to his trailer at his request to ‘hang out’ while he went over DND stuff for his next campaign. Eddie does this a lot— he calls them ‘Neutral Dates’ where you’re not really doing anything in particular- most of the time, you’re both doing seperate things, but still just being in each other’s presence.

It’s nice. The majority of your friend circle consists of everyone involved with the Upside Down and that entire mess. You two are no Steve and Robin (you’re convinced those two have the kind of bond no one can replicate or break. Like the kind of bond stray cats get and then they have to be adopted together) but it’s still nice. To just be with someone.

Even if you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

It’s not always eggshells. Sometimes, for a a few moments, you forget. You forget it’s all pretend. You forget he’s just a friend helping a friend fulfill a goal. That’s all.

You’ve almost forgotten just now, too— you’re too concerned about what you might’ve done.

He’s not acting angry, per-se, but he’s definitely upset. You tend to pick up on this kind of thing: small changes in someone’s personality or body language. Most of the time it’s not a conscious habit.

Most of the time.

Right now, he’s run his hands through his hair about a million times. It’s become a frizzy mess behind him, and when you’d made an offhand joke about it —an attempt to lighten the mood— all he’d done was scowl. Not at you, really, but the message was there. You’d snapped your jaw shut so fast you’re pretty sure he heard your teeth click.

After that he’d frustratedly made tea for the both of you, which consisted of opening the cupboards faster than he usually did, closing them slightly louder than he usually does, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the stove-top while he waited for the kettle to boil.

All of this you observed from the corner of your eye while ‘reading’ on the couch.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when you’d finally mustered up the courage to speak again, a little joke about a part in the book you were reading, all he’d said was a flat:

“That’s great, babe.”

You’re starting to get antsy. Nervous. Maybe you should go? Unless he gets upset at you leaving. That would be bad. But he’s clearly upset with you being here, so maybe you should go.

While you’re debating the pros and cons of leaving, you try to remain as still and silent as possible. No need to upset him anymore by moving too much or being too loud.

You flip a page in the book you’re no longer reading (he might notice you’re not paying attention to it anymore) and decide to test the waters again.

“The author just spelled restaurant wrong. That’s the third spelling mistake I’ve caught in this book.”

“Hmm.”

Okay. So that was worse. Talking to him is out of the question, then. It must be something you did, to warrant this kind of reaction.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything you could’ve done in recent hours to make him upset, but you can’t think of anything.

You glance slightly to the right— not far enough that he’ll see you looking at him, but far enough to get a better look at him in your peripheral. He’s glaring down at his campaign notebook. Shit, he looks so angry.

Unbidden, tears begin to well in your eyes and you try to shift, trying to angle yourself away from him enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes.

But your hand shifts, knocking into his leg.

Fuck. “Sorry!”

You yank you arm back as if burned, jolting back on the couch so you’re in no danger of touching him. “I’m sorry!”

He sits up, immediately snapping to attention at the desperation coloring your voice. “Woah woah, hey. Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

You take a steadying breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks blankly at you. Oh shit, you’re supposed to know that you’ve done something wrong.

“I mean,” You hurry to correct, “I know I— Can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?”

Understanding floods his features and you brace yourself, ready for the reprimand.

“Can I touch you?”

Now it’s your turn to stare with confusion. You nod once, briefly thinking about how weird it is to ask for permission first.

He sits up on the couch, facing you with his legs crossed, the couch springs squeaking loudly at his movement. You resist the urge to wince. He reaches out with a slow hand, taking the hand that’s still clenched, held away from him and up near your chest.

He stares down at your hand, holding it with his left hand and tracing delicate shapes on it with his right. His ringed fingers drag lines around your knuckles and veins, lingering occasionally over the odd, old scar.

“How long did you think I was upset with you?”

Your heart is racing, muscles tensed and ready to bolt. “Um. A few hours? Maybe?”

You’re hyper-aware of the grip he has on your hand, and how quickly and easy it could become crushing.

It doesn’t.

“Bug,” He says slowly after a moment. At first he used to use pet names as a joke— it was something you’d laugh at, between the two of you, since the relationship wasn’t real.

But recently, he’s been saying them with a different inflection in his tone. A little less teasing, a lot more fond.

“Have you spent the past few hours afraid that I was mad at you?”

He sounds… sad. Which is confusing. It doesn’t— he was. He was.

“But you were,” You say, suddenly unsure about anything and everything. “You were upset.”

“I was upset because I couldn’t work this part of the campaign out, and i’m dramatic. I was never mad at you, honey. I was never mad at you.”

You frown, gears turning in your head. “When I made that joke about your hair, you glared at me. And then when I tried to talk to you, you were upset. You didn’t want to talk.”

“I was jokingly glaring at you, I’m so sorry you thought I was serious. I wasn’t, I promise. I didn’t mean to be dismissive, I was really focusing on writing.”

You’re both silent for a moment. A beat too long. You want to squirm in the unwelcome space the silence has created.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

That is a loaded question.

“I don’t know,” You pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I don’t— I don’t know. That’s the problem. You don’t yell at me, or get angry, or tell me when i’ve made you upset. I don’t know what you’ll do.”

He makes a wounded noise in his throat.

“I know you get angry,” You bulldoze on, “I’ve seen it. You’re so… loud, in everything you do. I know you get angry. But you never get that same kind of loud angry at me and I don’t know what to do because that means that I upset you and you don’t tell me about it and then I don’t know how to fix it. I have to fix it, Eddie.”

His eyes, deep and brown, search your face. He reaches up a hand, painfully slow, to cup your face. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you tip your head to the side, leaning into the job.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Bug. Are you listening?” He waits for you to hum in confirmation before continuing. “You’re not responsible for my moods. Or anyone else’s for that matter. That’s not your job. You don’t have to fix it.”

He reaches his second hand up to cup the other side of your face. “You know why I don’t get angry at you? Not all loud and dramatic like that? Because I’ve seen how you react when people do. And I never, ever want to be the reason you get that look in your eye. I never want to make you afraid. I never want you to believe, with proof and confidence, that I’ve grown sick of you.”

You open your eyes, eyes darting across the planes of his face. Searching for even the smallest hint, the smallest giveaway that he might be lying.

You can’t find any. In its place, you find eyes, shining with pure determination. You find lips parted ever so slightly, a sad-sort of smile being etched into being. You find two hands on your face, thumbs delicately sweeping across the skin of your under-eye, of your cheekbone. Smoothing away the steady tears that had begun falling, wiping away the hot trails they leave on your face.

And you realize all at once that love isn’t like the movies. It isn’t picture-perfect kisses. It isn’t ball gowns and dresses and kisses in the rain. It isn’t like the love you thought you were supposed to have: empty and hollow; a life of hanging off of arms and praying your next slip-up didn’t cost you your relationship.

It was this.

It was just being. Just being and knowing the other person is there for just that— for you. It was not raising your voice. It was carrying extra hair-ties. It was making two cups of coffee. It was steeping tea for an extra couple of minutes, just the way he liked it. It was playing your favorite music in the car, and looking over at each other during the bridge, belting the lyrics with the same, toothy-smile. So full and so happy you just keep screaming the lyrics, because you’re filled with so much you don’t know where to put it all.

Your tears begin to fall in earnest now. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but for a different reason now. You’re struck with the need to convey all of this to him— to tell him you understand, you know, you feel the same.

“These hair ties,” You shove your wrist up to his eye-line. “They’re for you. Because you always forget your own. And— and I steep the tea for a few extra minutes, because you like your tea strong, and you didn’t just find that tape in your van, I bought it ‘cause I know you lost the old one in the Upside Down, ‘cause it felt out of your pocket.”

You’re babbling, nearly choking on your tears and your words, rushing them all out of your mouth in an aching wish to be understood, in this very moment.

“I know,” He says, voice a little hysteric and eyes a little too bright. His lip wobbles. He presses your face tighter in his hands. “I know. I know. I see you. I see you.”

You stay like that for a little while. At some point, your hands find his wrists, and then you’re just two fools, smiling like idiots with tears streaming down your faces, staring into each others eyes.

Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “The next time you think I’m upset at you, you tell me, okay? You can ask. You can ask me and I pinky promise I won’t get mad.”

You giggle wetly. “Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear,” He says, taking his left hand away from your face to hold up his pinky. You intertwine yours and his together, the both of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He gets quiet for a moment; removes his hands from your face and instead clasps, your hands together, resting in your lap.

“You know why I never tell you when you’re being a bad practice girlfriend?” He says, his voice low and soft.

“How come?”

He smiles, full and good. “Because you’re not. You’re so sweet and kind and loving. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You furrow your brows. “The real kind? The I-love-you kind?”

Your face flushes over the words ‘I love you.’

“I’ve always kissed you for real,” He says, words laden with fondness. “Ever since the day we met and you slapped the shit out of me for being stupid. I’ve been hopelessly obsessed ever since. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”

You suck in a breath. “So all of this— the, the dates and the hanging out and the kissing— that’s all been real?”

“Every last bit.”

“Then in that case,” You say, squeezing his hands. “I would very much like you to kiss me.”

He leans in, slotting your lips together and everything just clicks. Like this is where you’re meant to be. Maybe it’s puppy love. Maybe it’s not.

All you know is that Eddie Munson is kissing you for real, and he always has been. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario : drunk calling ex!riize ༉‧₊˚.

req: hello sorry for another rq but what about ex!riize and you're drunk call him.. can i be 🪐 anon too pls

note: sure! thank you for your request ♥

pairing: ex!riize x reader— masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

“y/n? Why are you calling me?”

“I just… I saw this otter plushie on my way home, and it reminded me so much of you.”

After dinner with your friends, you drank a bit too much, and seeing that plushie made you think of your ex, Shotaro. You couldn’t help but call him, missing him deeply. Though you had separated due to the distance, both of you still harbored feelings for each other. Surprised by your call, he answered immediately, letting out a small laugh when he realized you were drunk.

“Are you walking home alone? Don’t hang up, I’ll talk to you until you get there… So, tell me, what was the otter like?”

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

“Why are you calling me now, y/n?”

“Do you ever think about me, Eunseok?”

Eunseok didn’t expect your call late at night, much less for your first words in months to be that. He stayed silent for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

“Have you been drinking, y/n?”

“Just… answer my question…” From the tone of your voice, he knew you were drunk.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, y/n. We’re not talking about this if you won’t even remember it when you wake up.”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

“Huh? Sungchan? Why did you call me?”

“You’re the one who called me, yn…”

After your office dinner, you had a little too much to drink and accidentally called Sungchan. When he answered and heard your voice, he couldn’t help but laugh at how confused you sounded.

“It was me…? Sorry, I meant to call a taxi…” you said, about to hang up before he spoke again.

“Where are you, y/n? Have you been drinking?”

Even though it had been months since you broke up, Sungchan still cared for you deeply. He decided to stay on the phone to make sure you got home safely.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

“Mgh…?”

Wonbin was already asleep when you called, his voice groggy as he answered. You had just gotten home from a party, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Memories of all the sweet moments you shared flooded your mind.

“I miss coming home and sleeping next to you…”

“Huh, y/n? Why are you calling so late?”

“I miss you, Wonbin… Don’t you miss me? Don’t you miss anything about me?”

“Ah… you’re drunk, aren’t you? I do miss you, y/n, but… this isn’t the time to talk about it.”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

“y/n? Is something wrong?”

After drinking with your friends at a bar, memories of how things ended with Seunghan overwhelmed you. You hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye, and it still haunted you. Seeing your call, he answered, concerned, it wasn’t like you to call so late. But hearing your voice, he quickly realized what was going on.

“I’m so sorry, Seunghan… I’m sorry for leaving like that, for how I treated you, and… I hope someday you can forgive me, you know? I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but I miss you so much right now…”

“You don’t need to apologize, y/n… Are you okay? Are you with anyone? I can come pick you up…”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

“Do you know how much I sacrificed for you? And you haven’t even apologized yet…”

The last thing Sohee expected that day was a call from you, let alone a drunken, angry one. Although he didn’t like the way you were speaking to him, he also didn’t want to argue with you in that state.

“I’m not going to talk to you about this right now, y/n. I already explained why we broke up… Are you home? Please go to bed. If you want, I’ll call you tomorrow, but don’t do this now.”

⭑.ᐟ anton

“y/n, what…?”

“Anton? I didn’t know who else to call… I’ve been drinking, and I started feeling sick on my way home… I think I’m near your place, but I don’t know…”

You thought you could get home without a taxi after a party, but you started feeling dizzy and lost along the way. Even though Anton was your ex, you knew he’d always answer, so you called him for help. Hearing your voice, Anton immediately grew nervous, worrying about you and getting ready to find you. He didn’t hold any grudges against you, if anything, he still hadn’t completely gotten over you. Without hesitation, he went out to help.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[ennabear]

✴︎ —PAINT THE AGES A HUNDRED SHADES OF GOLD ⊹₊⟡⋆

I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT LOVE ANYMORE ‘CAUSE IT’S GETTING TOO MUCH FOR ME …

cw: councilor!sevika x painter!mel, sevika is a lil sad and mean but she gets over it, sevika is also kind of a loser who can’t stop talking when she gets drunk, jinx and isha mentions because i’m evil and we know this, mel paints sevika nude, body worship, lots of comfort, oral sex, 18+

word count: 7.3k

it’s been months since sevika’s big move, and she fucking hates it to say the least.

all of these pilties are stuck up, even more than she remembers. which is a lot. she’s exhausted, she questions why she’s even a part of the council if all they do is ignore her. showing up every day and listening to them talk about her home and her people the way they do makes her sick.

they draft plans to raid the markets, shutting down anyone who isn’t licensed to be selling meat or rice or bread, but they refuse to let anyone get a license to sell those things. of course, she’s glad that she gets to eat three meals a day now, but with every bite she takes, she’s reminded of her home, and how starving they must be over there.

no matter how much she fights back, offers up a real plan that could make peace between the rivaling nations, they all just snicker and point fingers at her like she’s some sort of circus act.

and don’t ask her about how much she likes being called councilor sevika, because she doesn’t like it at all. she’s not a councilor, and maybe that’s a good thing, because it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna be.

still, she keeps her emotions under control. this is a huge opportunity to help get zaun on it’s feet and cut ties with piltover officially, she won’t spoil it by making a scene and giving up. no matter what, she’s gonna make an effort, even if it means being locked in a room with a group of rich pigs who’ve never felt that growing pit of hunger in their stomachs that make them so dizzy that they keel over on the streets.

that they die on the streets.

so yeah, it’s not easy, not even a little bit.

most of her nights are spent alone in her room. it’s nice, “small” compared to the rooms everyone else occupies, but still bigger than any house she’s ever seen in the undercity. it has large windows that let every bit of light in, but it’s still eerily dark at night compared to zaun.

in zaun, there are neon lights and buzzing street lamps that glow and flicker at every hour, so when it gets dark, the colorful lights bounce off of every inch of the city. you can see them in the reflections of the puddles, bright streaks of light flying up into the night from behind buildings and stretching until they’re out of sight.

here, in piltover, they have different kinds of lights. tiny, white holes in the sky called stars that shine when it gets dark. they have spotlights and statues and lanterns, but it gets lonely at night. everyone is at home, distancing from their friends and their jobs, getting sleep and resting up for whatever the next day will bring.

there isn’t really any rest in zaun, just a small wink of sleep whenever you catch it, and you’re up again. everyone’s grouchy and hungry and cold, but it makes for good shimmer sales, and the bar is a great place to find refuge when you need a break from it all.

so sevika sleeps with all of her lights on. an attempt to remind her of home— although her home doesn’t have a queen sized bed, fluffy pillows and soft blankets, lamps, alarm clocks, fireplaces, clean water on their nightstands, and stars that shine through their windows.

the stars might be her favorite part about piltover. probably the only good thing about piltover. she doesn’t really know what they are or what they do, but they’re nice to look at late at night when she can’t manage to sleep.

every time she finds herself staring up at them, she sends a prayer or two up to janna. always one for the people, a prayer that even though they pretend to hate each other, and there sure are a few goons who are ready to slit her throat for never paying them back, she hopes they’re okay.

she hopes that ran and theiram have got the bar under control, that vi and ekko manage to keep the chaos limited, and most of all, that jinx and isha are doing alright.

ever since silco died, her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken vigorously. who knew that someday she’d be missing jinx? but she does. she cries at night for the blue haired girl, praying for her safety and her happiness, hoping that she’s managed to keep some of her creativity after everything that went down.

and of course for the more tolerable blue haired kid, isha.

she prays that isha is still attached at the hip to jinx, that her fluffy hair gets dyed that awful bright blue color as often as she wants it to, that she’s found some way to communicate with the world while her voice is at rest.

she’s got no clue as to where they could be. one second, she’s wishing jinx would leave her alone. that she’d pack up her inventions and make a home for them far away from sevika’s life. the next second, they’re gone. no warning, no heads up whatsoever, just completely taken from her life.

but if she wishes to find any wisp of happiness, she’s gonna have to push these thoughts to the back of her mind, only letting them front when she’s alone and awake and accompanied by the stars. they’re the only things who understand her.

——

if you listen closely, you might be able to hear the sound of mel’s thoughts buzzing around in her mind.

the past few months have given her some intense whiplash, but things are finally starting to straighten out. her life isn’t exactly normal, but she’s growing used to her… new self.

she spends most of her time perched at her easel, painting the canvas in beautiful colors that fall over various people or places. it’s therapeutic for her, whatever image or question or anger she has lingering in her head, she can work it out with the paints. when she’s done, she lines them up in front of her.

it helps her see things more clearly, like a thought that can’t float away, frozen in time for her to analyze further. some of them are just plain colors. gold, with white, yellow, and bronze streaks, an attempt to recreate the swirls that are painted on her own body.

sometimes she paints her mother, her eyebrows lowered in a scowl and her silvery gray hair crowning her head. jayce and viktor occasionally make an appearance, both of their faces lost in thought as they stare at various equations and formulas that she can’t quite make out.

sometimes she just sees miscellaneous things, quick visions that she needs to bring to life. countless canvases are covered in black, with that dark red fog reaching into it like vines. there’s also the hextech that makes the occasional appearance, but she can’t quite get that bright, rich blue color right.

a few times before, she’s attempted portraits, but she doesn’t prefer them. lest has been one of her closest friends during all of this, she can sit and pose for hours while mel works away at her figure on the canvas. they’ve also tried painting together, but mel prefers her alone time.

she’s tried recreating the pictures from her memory, but it never comes out as well. she covers the canvas in thick paint, a bronze, brown, and white, making up jayce’s features. but she always clouds his face with shiny white webs, and those glistening, rainbow stars. the ones that stole him away.

while she sits, her body stays stagnant, eyes racing around the blank canvas. she mixes the colors in her head before she even opens the tubes, her eyes proportion it all for her, so she rarely makes sketches anymore.

recently, she’s been more interested in staying in and shutting out the world. the occasional knock rings out against her door, but she can’t be bothered to investigate. she doesn’t wanna give her opinions anymore, doesn’t wanna lead all of topside to peace and gas the streets of the undercity. really, she never signed up for that. sure, she’s ambessa’s daughter, but she doesn’t care to be a leader anymore. not when all it does is get people hurt and killed.

but apparently it’s urgent this time, because the knocking persists.

“um, mel?” a timid voice asks. “i hate to bother you, but the council requires yo—”

she flings the door open, clad in her white robe and slippers. her hood hangs halfway over her head as she glares at the man, but he insists on escorting her to the council meeting. her feet gently pad against the floor as she walks through the long halls, already dreading having to play referee for a group of adults who should know better.

but ambessa is gone now, and these people need someone to give them any sort of direction.

the dome shaped room welcomes her, and although she dreads being there, the sun shining through the stained glass is gorgeous. she spies a few familiar faces sitting in their respective seats, and notices some new ones who were added after the war.

“but they need the money!” one councilor booms, one of the newer ones who mel doesn’t quite recognize yet. “you can’t just cut their funds and raise the tax prices, they—”

“councilor sevika, please.” someone says, talking over her voice. “what possibly could they need more money for? our city needs to be rebuilt, and it’s them who’s caused all of this destruction.”

mel observes quietly, noticing the tears that fill sevika’s eyes. she makes an assumption that they’re either out of sadness, anger, or exhaustion, but she can’t quite tell. one thing she does know, though, is that it isn’t fair.

it’s not fair to just drag a zaunite up to topside and force her to be the only one representing her nation. especially when she has to be locked in a room full of people who hate her, who think she’s nothing more than just undercity trash to mock and make fun of.

mel’s surprised that sevika has held her ground for this long. if that were her, she’d want to pack up and leave within a day, especially when she notices the snorts and sideways glances that she gets every time she opens her mouth.

“have you even been down there?” sevika asks. “have you seen the bodies lying on the streets? have you heard the sobs of the starving children?”

they all look at her, unable to imagine what hunger even is, much less an entire nation overcome by it. shoola offers a sympathetic frown, but it’s not enough for sevika. she’s exhausted, and the thought of seeing her home even more impoverished is killing her. worst of all, word on the street is that zaunites are beginning to call her a traitor.

she wishes that they could see how hard she’s working, how much she’s fighting for them behind the scenes. but she can’t exactly blame them, it must be hard to watch every leader they’ve ever had either fail at leading them to sovereignty or turn their backs on the people. must be worse to watch someone who they thought was on their side disappear into the council and watch as things just keep getting worse and worse down there.

and this makes sevika feel horrible.

it’s hard for her not to blame herself for this, especially because that’s what she’s used to. her job for years was to be silco’s right hand, so it was constantly her fault if something went wrong. that’s just how things are. if things don’t go her way, it must be her fault for not working harder to overcome it.

“i agree.” mel says plainly. “councilor sevika has firsthand knowledge of what it’s like for them, why shouldn’t we trust her?”

sevika is taken aback at this. she’s never seen someone so… rich looking… be this understanding toward her. but although it’s the bare minimum, she appreciates it. she’ll take whatever form of kindness she can get right now.

the other councilors stare at mel like she’s just grown three heads. obviously, they’ve never been told no a day in their life. sevika is glad that she gets to be present for the first time. some of them sputter and growl, some of them roll their eyes, but sevika just sinks back into her chair and decides to let them argue it out.

“i agree too.” councilor shoola says. “it’s only fair… unless, any of you would like to go down there and experience it for yourselves? then you could tell us all about their excess of funds.”

sevika sighs in relief, thanking janna or the universe or whatever god decided to help her out. she can’t exactly smile, at least not yet, but she manages a tiny grin, and decides that maybe she shouldn’t feel too bad about herself just yet.

mel is glad that sevika and shoola have at least a little bit of brains, but she’s starting to rethink having all of the others on the council. maybe they need to fire some, or at least add some more zaunites to level the playing field. although, she now knows that sevika can put up one hell of a fight, so maybe she doesn’t need it.

but the clock strikes two in the afternoon, and the councilors file out to get on with their day until they meet again tomorrow. sevika hangs back, waiting for everyone to leave before she returns to her office. but mel hangs back too, determined to talk to sevika more, to get to know her.

sevika pulls her cape over her shoulders, completely covering her figure before she exits the room. mel perks up and shoots her a questioning look.

“yes?” sevika asks.

“you’re brave.” mel says.

“no i’m not. d’you think it’s brave of me to leave my people starving and helpless down there while i have a real home and three meals a day?”

mel just stares blankly at her. that isn’t what she meant at all, but at the same time, she’s completely right. as much as she still believes that sevika is brave for putting up with the councilors, she should be calling everyone else brave, everyone in zaun who goes days without food. sevika is the luckiest of them all.

“that’s not what i meant.” mel explains. “i meant that you’re better than them because you stand your ground instead of just getting everything you want. you work hard for what you earn.”

sevika shrugs. “i guess you could say that.”

“do you miss it down there?”

“what do you think?” sevika grunts.

“i’d bet that you do, you just try not to show it in front of anyone.”

“yes, because showing weakness gets you killed.”

“not up here, it doesn’t. you should open up a little, it might be good for you.” mel suggests.

“i’ll pass.”

“i could help you.”

“i don’t need—”

“let me help you.” mel says, reaching out to grab sevika’s hand.

“help me how?” sevika asks.

“open up to me. tell me about your life. friends, family, past, anything.”

“okay… maybe.”

“okay, good.”

——

sevika has never been great at opening up to anyone, but mel is… understanding. as much as she hates to talk about her struggles to other people, mel is probably the best possible person to talk to. mel marched herself down sevika’s hall to her door, banging on it until sevika sleepily presented herself. she marched sevika down the hall and through the building until they reached her own suite, and she fed sevika more and more wine until she started to talk to her.

it started with just a confession. sevika was wine drunk and admitted that yes, she did miss her home, and that she hated topside. and then mel pressed for more, made her tell her specifically who she missed and what she missed about them.

the list of people who she missed was never ending. at the top— jinx and isha. in all honesty, mel is shocked to learn that sevika had anyone that she really considered family, much less a daughter or a niece. but sevika tells her all about them, how isha would beg to paint her nails or dye her hair, and how jinx finally had a sister who she could play with, instead of just being too young to do anything.

but when mel asks where they’ve gone, sevika freezes. she doesn’t know, and it’s not something she prefers to think about. dead is something she’d heavily considered, but that ending makes her too sad. as long as she doesn’t know that they’re dead, they’re not. at least not in her world.

she tells mel that she hopes they’re somewhere safe, somewhere that they can have fun together. like floating on a cloud, or living in outer space with the stars. maybe they are with the stars, and that’s why she loves them so much.

“you like the stars?” mel asks.

“that’s the only thing actually worth liking about this place, i think…” sevika slurs drunkenly.

“hmm, i guess they are pretty, aren’t they.” mel ponders.

“yeah and there are so many of them, and it’s like every time you see them you’re seeing a completely different sky. and they’re cool because they only come out at night when they think nobody can see them, it’s like they’re shy. but i always see them because i’m always awake with them.” she rambles.

mel can’t help but giggle. again, everything she said is exactly right, but she’s never seen it that way. sevika offers her a fresh new perspective, one that makes her ponder how much she knows about the world.

“sorry…” sevika whispers, suddenly aware that she’s drunkenly blabbering and probably making a fool of herself. she tries to blink herself sober but it doesn’t work.

“no worries. i like them too.” mel soothes.

“i think i should go.”

“already?” mel asks.

“it’s gett’n late. i have places to be tomorrow…” sevika sighs. mel stands and walks her to the door, grabbing on gently to her human arm in an attempt to stabilize the woman. she offers a sweet smile to sevika as she leaves, even takes her hand in her own for a second and squeezes it tightly, but sevika just stares at the floor.

“mel?” she asks finally, although in a timid voice.

“yes?”

“thanks for sticking up for me. i don’t know what those pigs would get up to without people like me and you.”

mel’s heart warms at this. sevika is so drunk that she’s starting to get sappy and sweet, and while it’s adorable, it’s clear that she needs to get home. but she’s glad that her effort isn’t going unnoticed, and she’s starting to really like sevika.

“of course.” she smiles again. “get some sleep for me, okay? don’t spend too much time with the stars.”

sevika curses herself for the warm feeling that wraps herself all around her, she hates that she’s being vulnerable and making friends. she just blames the feeling on the alcohol, but she knows that it’s not. because that light, warm feeling clings itself to her every time she sees mel.

it happens again when they coincidentally cross paths, mel on her way outside for some fresh air and sevika on her way to her room to sign papers until her fingers bleed. but she realizes for the first time that mel is so beautiful. she hasn’t spotted sevika yet, but the sunlight glowing in from the windows catches her golden streaked skin perfectly, and she’s shining. it’s like she’s a real life star, and sevika can’t peel her eyes away.

“oh, hi sevika.” mel grins.

“um… hi.” she responds, her heart suddenly beating faster than usual. “where are you going?”

“just outside. been cramped up inside all day and the smell of my paints are starting to give me a headache.”

“you paint?” sevika asks, although to anyone else the answer would be obvious.

“yeah, all the time. i’d love to show you someday.” she offers, already knowing that she’s gonna have to drag sevika by the arm and force her to visit.

“okay… yeah, that would be nice.” she says.

“what are you doing right now?” mel asks.

“i just have a lot of paperwork to fill out, letters to write, things to sign, you know how it is.”

“will you stop by later, then?”

“are you gonna make me?”

“probably. if you don’t show up by yourself.”

“alright, see you later then.”

——

sevika is dreading this outing. the more times she thinks about going back over to mel’s, the more anxious she gets. every time she’s been over there the past month, she’s ended up either drunk or blabbering on about stuff that doesn’t matter. or worse— drunk and blabbering. she always finds some way to make a fool of herself, and she doesn’t know how to stop. she just wishes it wasn’t so easy to open up to her, wishes that mel wasn’t so damn likable.

mel already knows she’s gonna have to drag sevika over to come look at her paintings. she always does. no matter how many times she tells the woman to come on her own terms, she finds herself stomping down to sevika’s door and forcing her to hang out. it’s cute, in mel’s mind, it’s like a date. so that’s what she finds herself doing tonight. cleaning up her suite a little, spinning one of her jazz records, and marching down to collect sevika.

she’s arranged her paintings in no particular order, but the array is beautiful. some are framed, some are smaller than others, some of them aren’t even finished. sevika feels so moved by this. she’s never seen anything so beautiful. not anything in real life, not mel herself, not even the stars are as beautiful as her paintings.

mel sits her down on the loveseat, pouring two glasses of wine and sitting down next to sevika, but sevika begs her to talk about her paintings. she’s dying to know how anyone could make anything look more beautiful than the stars. mel blushes at that compliment— it’s a lot coming from sevika for multiple reasons— but she decides that now it’s her turn to open up.

they sit an chat for hours, and before long, sevika feels as if she knows mel like the back of her hand. she now knows about jayce and viktor and what happened to them, about ambessa, her mother, the noxians, and the rest of her family. sevika’s oddly surprised. of course, she’s aware that mel is probably the strongest woman she knows, but she never would’ve guessed that she’s been through that much.

mel cries a bit, and sevika cries too, and they laugh about their emotions like old friends. for once in her life, sevika feels like maybe not everything sucks, and that maybe it’s okay to let herself fall for someone. she just hopes that mel feels the same way.

“sevika?” mel asks, still catching her breath after a fit of giggles.

“yeah?” she smiles.

“will you dance with me?”

“i don’t dance.” sevika says, laughing at the image of her dancing with someone. how silly.

“aww, come on! it’s just us and some jazz! you’ll be fine.” she reasons. “please?”

sevika rolls her eyes at mel’s outstretched hand, but she’s very tipsy and in a good mood, so how could she say no to the beautiful woman standing in front of her?

mel yanks her up by her arm, and sevika wastes no time following after her to the middle of the room where the big sky lights let the stars shine in. sevika scowls and tenses up a bit, but mel wraps her arms around sevika’s waist so gently, guiding sevika’s arm to press against her back. mel sways them back and forth a bit, and sevika soon loosens up and stares down at mel with a smile that puts all of the stars to shame.

“do you ever miss your arm?” mel asks.

“yeah, sometimes. i miss the one jinx made for me, i wish i didn’t take it for granted.” she responds, her mood quickly turning sad against her will.

“i could have one made for you.” mel offers.

sevika shakes her head and flattens her lips into a straight line. “they won’t let me have one on the council.”

it’s mel’s turn to roll her eyes now. “no, i’ll make you one that they’ll accept. they always listen to me, you know.” she grins.

“i guess that would be alright, as long as it’s not much of a hassle.”

“for you? nothing’s a hassle. don’t be silly.”

sevika’s eyebrows pull together in the middle and she pouts, tears quickly filling her eyes. nobody’s ever been this nice to her before. offering her a new limb, protection from the ruthless comments from the council, good wine, and a dance underneath the stars. she can’t help but cry, but she’s not afraid to anymore. with mel, she feels safe enough to be this vulnerable.

mel notices her sad expression, and she silently prays that she didn’t accidentally offend sevika, it’s the last thing she’d ever wanna do. “oh, what’s wrong? did i—”

sevika cuts her off with a kiss. she doesn’t wanna hear any apologies from mel, not after she’s been a literal angel to sevika this past week. mel’s lips are warm and welcoming, they taste sweet, like if gold was a flavor. she reaches her hands up and cradles the back of mel’s head, deepening the kiss.

mel is completely taken aback by this. she didn’t know that sevika had feelings for her. actually, she thought that sevika was sick of her. but she kisses sevika back, her lips are big and pouty and oh so soft. she also gets to feel sevika’s piercing up close, and the cold metal drags against the bottom of her lips ever so slightly. it’s a stark contrast, but a comforting one at that.

one thing leads to another, and they’re quickly back on the loveseat, lapping at each others tongues and giggling like kids and holding hands. sevika’s had tons of sex before, sure, but nothing comes close to this. she feels so special, so cared for, that she notices this strange, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

little does she know, that feeling is called love.

she pins mel down to the seat, both of them breathless and high on this mysterious feeling— although it definitely has something to do with the liquor— and sevika almost cries again when mel spreads her legs beneath her white gown. the warm lamplight mixed with the starlight causes her to glow again, like she’s on fire, so sevika can’t help but kiss all over the gold patterns that paint her skin.

mel erupts into another fit of giggles, holding sevika’s shocked face in her hands. sevika tenses up slightly at her touch, but takes a deep breath and swallows all of her anxiety.

“can i?” sevika asks.

mel smiles and nods. “of course. you can do whatever you want to me.”

sevika shudders and reaches up mel’s dress, caressing her stomach and hips. mel is soft and malleable under her touch, and she’s golden. she reaches forward to tug her dress above her hips. sevika doesn’t think she’s ever seen such a beautiful sight, and mel absolutely adores sevika’s awestruck face.

the same golden markings that paint her face also trail down her abdomen, all the way to her ankles. there are thick streaks of gold that mirror each other on each side of her torso, twisting themselves into swirls and shapes. she also has small golden freckles littering her body, identical to the ones on her face. they look like stars.

best of all, as if sevika wasn’t already turned on enough, she has small, golden hairs that trail down from just beneath her belly button, only stopping when they crown her dripping hole. this woman is made of pure magic, and if sevika doesn’t get her mouth on her within the next millisecond, she thinks she might faint.

mel grabs sevika’s hand when she notices her hesitation, and this makes her snap back into the moment and start eating mel out. she starts slow, just some teasing, soft licks to her clit that make her shiver. mel moans so sweetly and beautifully and sevika feels like she’s floating.

sevika grips mel’s hand harder and harder as she keeps eating her out, and it’s times like these that she wishes she has two hands. one to hold mel’s with, and one to feel inside of her, pumping her full of her thick fingers. mel arches her back and thrusts up into sevika’s face, and they both nearly cum on the spot.

she pulls back for a second, a string of white slick connecting itself to sevika’s lips before dripping down her chin.

“sev, you’re doing so good, baby.” mel praises. “don’t stop, i’m so close.”

sevika speeds up her movements, determined to make mel cum. her big, silver eyes squeeze shut as her mouth works it’s magic, sucking on her clit and running her pointed tongue between mel’s folds to collect her slick.

but she doesn’t cum until sevika wraps her lips around her clit again, her piercing colliding with mel’s throbbing clit as she tips over the edge. a low whine is pulled from her throat, and sevika pulls back to admire the woman above her. mel yanks sevika up by her shirt, thanking her with a deep kiss. some of sevika’s lipstick is smudged, so mel wipes it off with her thumbs, as well as the wet slick that’s smeared all over her face.

sevika is suddenly very aware that she doesn’t need shimmer anymore, because she feels like mel’s sweet nectar is enough to get her high.

“i’m gonna need that new arm as soon as you can get it.” sevika says with her lips smashed against mel’s. “need to show you what else i can do.”

——

it’s been three weeks since then, and sevika’s been coming over every night. she still has lots of work to do, but mel helps her with all of it. they sort through tall stacks of paperwork, taking turns sitting on the others lap and pouring each other more wine. sometimes they get distracted with sex, but they try their hardest to stay focused. occasionally mel will bring out her paints and work on something new, forcing sevika to stay focused while she’s at work.

they also spend their mornings together. if they don’t wake up in the other’s arms, they’ll sleepily march down to their door and bang on it until they reunite and hold each other again.

but this morning, sevika wakes up in mel’s bed alone. she reaches out for the woman with her arm, but that side of the bed is just cold and empty. sitting up, she glances around the room until she spies mel in her silky white cloak painting on the balcony.

“mel?” she asks groggily. “why’re you up so early?”

“just had to finish something, love.” she responds, smiling at her girlfriend’s half awake state. “you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“can i at least see what you’re working on?”

“not yet.” she smiles. “it’s a surprise.”

sevika groans and turns around to go back inside, but mel catches her arm and yanks her back for a kiss. sevika kisses over each of mel’s golden freckles, and then her lips, then her nose, her forehead, chin, and then lips again, before returning inside. mel giggles and tries to swat sevika’s back before she gets away, but she’s too slow and the effort is wasted.

back inside, sevika grabs onto mel’s pillow and stuffs her face into it, bringing a familiar comfort that lulls her back to sleep. she’s shaken awake a few hours later, though. it’s mel, very gently rattling sevika’s shoulder while caressing her hair. “sevika, babe, wake up.” she whispers.

“mmmmh?”

“i have a present for you.”

“hmmmm?”

“wake up so you can open it.”

“ughhhhh.”

“oh, please. don’t be so pouty. i want you to see it! quickly, quickly!” she urges, yanking sevika back to the balcony. the sun is slightly higher in the sky now, some of the orange in the sky is still fading away but the sky is painted in a light yellow color, it matches mel a little bit.

she hands her a giant white box with mel’s name on it, a small golden bow sitting directly on the top. “what is this?” sevika asks.

“open it and see!” mel smiles.

so she does. she flips the lock on the box and pulls it open, a smooth, golden arm staring back at her.

“what is this?” sevika asks again, this time in disbelief. she couldn’t tell how serious mel was about acquiring a new arm for her, so she didn’t think she’d be receiving a new one this quickly, or one this pretty.

it’s a lot more modern compared to her other two arms that she’s had in the past. it has a matte gold casing all around it, with shimmery gold patterns that resemble mel’s carved into it. it has all five fingers, but they’re not as pointy, more resembling her human fingers than her past arms. sevika is overcome with emotions, and she turns around to pull mel in for a hug, hiding her tears on her shoulder.

“do you like it?” mel asks.

“i love it.”

“will you teach me how to put it on you?”

“of course.” sevika promises, and with that, mel tugs her inside and makes her sit and show her. it takes a bit of fumbling. sevika isn’t great at explaining things, but she also can’t do much with only one arm, so lots of trial and error occurs during the process. but eventually it’s all screwed in, and the first thing sevika does is pull mel in for a real hug.

mel never really realized how strong sevika is, and how crushing her hugs are. at least, not until now. she knows that sevika can hold her somewhat tightly, but one arm doesn’t do much. now that she as two arms though, mel is struggling to breathe with the way sevika is crushing her. or maybe it’s just because sevika wants to show her girlfriend some love. and she’s definitely not crying.

“i have one more thing.” mel says, although most of it gets muffled by sevika’s chest.

“what is it?” she asks.

“come outside and look.”

sevika follows her outside, grabbing onto mel’s elbow with her new hand.

“close your eyes.” mel says, so sevika squeezes her eyes shut and tries her hardest not to peek. mel dashes over to retrieve the painting on her canvas that’s now fully dry, and then she holds it to face sevika.

“okay, now open them.”

she opens her eyes to see mel holding one of her new paintings— the one she wasn’t allowed to see yet. but now she’s aware of why she wasn’t allowed to see it, because the painting is of her.

it’s sevika. hunched over at mel’s desk with her reading glasses on and a pen in her hand, a glass of wine half empty on the table next to her. the colors in the painting are very warm, likely resembling the warm lamps that decorate mel’s suite. and the most surprising thing— there’s a smile on sevika’s face.

it’s not something she’s ever seen on herself before. for one, she’s never been one to smile in general, it’s just not something she was ever used to doing. photographs are also very rare in zaun, so the only way she could’ve seen it on herself is by smiling in front of a mirror, which is even more rare.

sevika doesn’t even know how to feel. she should cry, because nobody has ever been this kind to her before, and she’s overwhelmed with emotions from the arm, the painting, and just being around mel.

she should also be happy. nobody has ever understood her as much as mel does, and she feels so honored to be seen in her artistic lense. she should be glad that she gets to live up here, where everything is safe and pretty and valuable. she’s also still half asleep, and can’t exactly tell if she’s dreaming or not.

“what do you think?” mel asks after a while.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve this.” sevika says honestly. “is there some kind of special occasion that i don’t know about? or are you just spoiling me.”

“well, mostly the latter,” mel laughs. “but it is our one month anniversary, if that counts for anything.”

“i didn’t get you anything.” sevika frowns, suddenly feeling way out of mel’s league, almost insecure.

“that’s alright.” mel smiles. “your presence is enough.”

sevika rolls her eyes and manages a smile too, yanking mel forward and giving her a sweet kiss. one month isn’t much, but it’s been the happiest month of sevika’s life, and things are starting to look up for her. for zaun, too.

“well,” mel starts, pulling away from sevika’s lips. “there is one small thing you could do for me.”

“and that is…?”

“model for me so i can paint you?” she asks with a happy shrug of her shoulders.

“now? but you just painted me.”

“yes, i’m aware.” she laughs. “but i haven’t painted your new arm yet, and that was from a few days ago but you just look so adorable today. please?”

sevika smiles too. how could she say no to mel when she asks so nicely? “alright, fine.” she agrees.

“good, and take all of your clothes off, too.”

sevika freezes. although mel has seen her naked hundreds of times, she suddenly feels shy.

“don’t worry, it’s just for us.” mel soothes. “lay on the bed and i’ll position you.”

so sevika is left no choice but to follow the orders she was given. she strips herself of her clothes— which is much easier now that she has two arms— and lays down on the bed, looking up at mel with her big, watery eyes. mel walks over and pushes her backward until she’s propped up with just one elbow.

“is this comfortable?” mel asks.

“uh… y-yeah.” sevika responds.

mel pries sevika’s legs open, positioning them apart so that she has a full view of sevika’s dripping cunt from her easel. sevika whimpers, her eyes widening and sparkling as she looks up at mel.

“don’t be shy.” mel teases. “it’s just me.”

“i know, sorry…” sevika says with a sigh, making a mental note to loosen up.

“are you ready for me to start? we’re probably gonna be here all day.”

“yeah. ready.” sevika responds.

“okay, let me know if you need a break.”

mel isn’t too fond of painting from models, but she can feel her opinion changing as she sculpts sevika with the paint. her legs are easy. long and thick, and she gets to mimic the way they’re pressed open.

her torso is next, which is one of her favorite things about sevika. her abs are hard and sturdy, but they get slightly softened out by the rolls of her stomach. then mel moves up to her tits, painting two perfectly pointed brown circles accented with thick, dark nipples.

her neck comes after, and then her arms, and finally her face. mel has memorized every little expression sevika has, so she has a lot to choose from, but she chooses the one that sevika is wearing right now. a goofy, lovestruck smile, adorned with a slight blush sparkling on her cheeks.

her eyes are also fun, they’re so big and sparkly and metallic, mel can’t help but paint stars in them. and of course, her nose, her tooth gap, her piercing, and her hair. they all come together to make up the most perfect face that mel has ever seen.

she moves on to the arms next, painting one with her thick muscles and her warm brown skin, and the other with a shiny gold. her shoulders are slightly slanted, and they have bite marks and hickeys carved into them, which makes mel immensely proud of herself.

and finally, sevika’s glistening cunt. she paints each fold tenderly, a small circle at the top covered slightly by a thin, fleshy hood. she paints the slick in between her thighs that just keeps collecting with her finest white and silver paints.

and of course, her bush, because she wouldn’t dare to forget it. she curls each stroke of her brush until it perfectly mirrors sevika’s thick, dark curls, and then she trails them all the way up her lower stomach.

she finishes the background next, but it’s not much. she doesn’t want anything to take away from sevika’s beauty. but she makes sure to add a few stars surrounding her of various sizes and shades of gold.

sevika has been surprisingly patient throughout the whole thing, mel predicted that she’d be begging for snacks only ten minutes in. but mel finishes quickly and she’s beaming with excitement as soon as she’s done.

“do you wanna see it?” she asks.

“you’re done already?” sevika replies.

“yeah. you’re an easy model.”

“okay, yeah, let me see.” sevika smiles.

mel lifts up the canvas and presents it to sevika, and it’s somehow even more beautiful than the other painting. mel captures her so beautifully, sevika is so honored to be viewed that way. for the first time in her life, she truly feels beautiful. and mel can tell that she feels that way too, through the tears that threaten to spill in her eyes.

and just as sevika is about to tackle mel to the bed too, she notices something in the bottom corner. in a shimmery gold writing, the words “my star. -mel m.” are painted. sevika looks up at mel with a questioning glance and asks, “what’s that?”

“it’s my signature. the title of the painting and my name.”

“‘my star’?” sevika reads off.

“yeah, because that’s what you are. you’re my star, sevika. you’re so beautiful and bright.”

and those words echo in sevika’s mind for the rest of time, especially when sevika pins mel down and rides her face into the pillow a few seconds later. she’s right. she is mel’s star, isn’t she.

[thevixenwitch]

Metaphysical Shop Red Flags:

Little bit of a disclaimer on this one: This post is made from my personal experience. If you have a small business, this post is not about you, but hey if some of these things stand out to you, maybe it's worth analyzing your business model.

I am someone that's been active in irl and online pagan and witch spaces for over a decade now, and am compiling this from my own experiences, as well as those of my partners. I'm also a tad anti-capitalist, so an alternative title for this post could be "How to Spot if You're Actually that Metaphysical Shop's Cash Cow".

Now, let's get started.

Unknown or unethically sourced White Sage is a really noticeable starting place. Once I was at a market and saw cute smoke cleansing bundles with dried flowers and cinnamon sticks and quartz points, very pretty, very flashy! But when I asked where the Sage was sourced, the lady manning the booth said they were from Amazon. Some sellers value visual appeal to make a sale over anything else.

Overt appropriation via bulk, drop shipped items like “smudging” tools, dream catchers, etc. This list of items can vary dramatically based on who owns the shop, what practices exist in your area, so it’s good to educate yourself on how to spot appropriation. This does NOT mean ethically sourced options that benefit marginalized communities, that’s what we want to insist our local shops have for us to buy!

On that note, a lack of local creators and/or sourcing in general. Not every store has a goal of being a community hub, but beyond that they are still very visible aspects of the community. It strikes me as very odd that I can more reliably buy locally sourced herbs from a random gift shop than I can from a metaphysical store no matter which state I’m in.

Crystals with no information about where they were sourced. There is a growing issue with the intense demand for crystals that has caused an increase in unethical sources, so knowing where your purchases come from is important. Compare prices at metaphysical shops to those at your local rock shop, especially if you are lucky enough to have one run by gemologist, geologist, or rockhound. I have talked about this already elsewhere, so I won’t bog down this post too much with it. The short of it is, transparency is a green flag.

This one may be controversial, but dramatic markups in general. Don’t be afraid to compare prices to other places, particularly other local options if they are available. A few dollars variance is normal, but a huge markup should be obvious. Things like location can have a huge impact on price, which is good to keep in mind. The availability and price of something can vary wildly based on that factor alone, but that’s why I recommend checking against other options within your area. Do remember that comparing to Amazon prices isn’t fair to small businesses, and “cheap” is not the goal here.

If the contents of the store are all drop-shipped, or bulk stock that can definitely be something to keep an eye out for. If the place is full of items you can actually look up on Amazon, that may be worth paying attention to.

Prevalence of well-known problematic authors. If they have Silver Ravenwolf on a central display, that’s always something that tells me a shop prioritizes making a sale over providing quality products. If there’s an overwhelming presence of Lewellyn published books with minimal alternatives, that shows a lack of care for diversity or quality control.

AI items. Let’s be so for real here. Walking into a shop and seeing an obviously AI generated altar cloth with gibberish symbols all over it is a bad thing. I’ll talk more on the rising presence of AI that’s very negatively influencing the quality of information available in the pagan community at a later time.

Bulk resin and 3D printed items. We’ve all seen them, the vendor at a fair with an army of dozens of jointed dragons, or ten resin-cast, glitter-filled Gaia statues that light up! All so sparkly, colorful, and eye-catching. I’d implore anyone to learn more about how much plastic waste is involved in bulk production of low-quality products like this.

What my wife likes to call “Apple Store vibes”. Call me traditional, but when a store is all sleek white lines and tidy, understocked shelves, I know I’m in for some of the highest prices for incense I’ve ever seen. These stores are meant to bring in people with money burning a hole in their pocket, and that’s often reflected in the visually appealing kitsch that never actually seems to serve a purpose.

This can be a red flag SOMETIMES but not always: A lack of diversity in the paths represented. Sometimes a shop is just a reflection of the owner’s personal practice, or the focuses of the local community. Other times, there can be a reflected air of superiority of one path over others. This is entirely dependent on the individual store.

A big one I’d like to end on; they only host paid classes and services with no way for under-served members of the community to attend or participate. This is made even worse if the events are all over $20. Especially if this store is the only option in your area for these things! Instead of providing a service, they could be focused on cornering the market.

A quick Green Flag for some positivity, the presence of the owners or staff’s personal practice! I love being able to ask for insight from the source, I love being able to buy someone’s personal oil blends, I love learning more about things I may not have thought about because I’m not walking that path myself. Staff that want to chat and help can be so nice and really add to a welcoming environment.

Supporting small businesses is so important, and they can really be cornerstones of our community, but we need to be able to see the difference between someone passionate about providing resources and space to a community, and others that are looking to make a quick buck off of people starving for that. We as consumers need to hold our communities to some kind of standard, and I for one find that my standard is a certain level of authenticity. Not everyone selling metaphysical tools and supplies is trying to scam someone, but there are bad actors everywhere. Educate yourself, keep your eyes open, and don’t be afraid to ask yourself what someone’s motivations are.

[urmommt]

ch 2 Sealed with a kiss (jakvik x reader)

I know i said id do like 5k words but the struggle is so real oml. i hope u enjoy this ch and ill work on spitting out more words for the next chapter i promise :>

 “Wakey wakey sleepy head,” yelled the incessant noise of Sky directly into your ear.

“Ugh, leave me alone, Sky. It’s my rest day, and I don’t plan on waking up till noon,” you replied.

“Dude, it’s 3 PM. Get up,” she said.

“IT’S WHAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER?” you screamed as you jumped up. You had planned on getting some work done on your assignment around now because, at this rate, you’d never get it finished and submitted in time.

You only had one more month to work on it before it had to be sent in, and since you’re a massive procrastinator, you had barely done anything in the past five months while everyone else was busting their asses to get the work finished.

“Considering what you said to me a minute ago, I don’t think you even deserved to wake up now, stink face,” Sky replied.

Sky Young was your best friend. Your bread to your butter. Your cheese to your stick, or however that saying goes. Anyways, you get the idea—you guys were almost inseparable. You’d grown up in the undercity together even though her family was much richer than yours, and you’d moved to the city of Piltover together too since she got accepted at the same time as you did.

When you’d first come, she’d helped out with the expenses and everything, but you paid her back as soon as you got your job at the café, for which she was thankful because people in Zaun, no matter how rich, still struggled in Piltover due to the insane taxes for Zaunites and the fact their currency was less strong than Piltover’s.

She also was your rock when you’d found out about your father’s death, and if it weren’t for her, you really don’t know where you’d be today. Your remembrance of the day you found out was a bit blurred due to the shock of receiving the news. All you know is you woke up one morning, checked the mail, and saw a letter from your father’s boss informing you he’d fallen under some rubble at work and passed away.

As you got up and got ready to study, you remembered you had one more month and so got changed and asked Sky to join you for a day at the academy for sightseeing instead of studying. It’s fine since you had a month anyway, and there was a little scientific event set by the biochem majors today that you really badly wanted to go see.

“Uhhh, I thought you had studying to do today,” Sky said with a raised brow, looking at you in a knowing way.

You stood there looking like an idiot for around a minute before replying very tactfully.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh. Get your stationery and laptop. We can go see the event, then go to the library to study together. You need to get this assignment going,” she said.

Reluctantly, you agreed and grabbed your bag along with your textbooks, laptop, and a few other little things to go.

The biochemistry event at Piltover University was a bustling affair. The grand hall was filled with displays showcasing innovations and experiments, the air alive with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of applause. You and Sky wandered through the exhibits, your eyes lighting up at the intricate machinery and complex equations scrawled on presentation boards.

“This is amazing,” you said, pausing to admire a holographic projection of molecular structures. “Makes me wish I had chosen biochem instead of engineering.”

Sky smirked, nudging you. “You’d regret it the moment you saw the workload. Stick to your devices and let these nerds handle the chemicals.”

You laughed, but your attention was soon drawn to a corner of the room where a small crowd had gathered. Curious, you made your way over, Sky trailing behind. At the center of the commotion stood two familiar figures—tall and broad-shouldered, with an easy smile, and lean with a sharp, analytical gaze. Viktor and Jayce.

Your breath hitched as memories of their brief visit to the café flashed in your mind. They were presenting something—a sleek device that pulsed with a faint blue light, its purpose explained in animated gestures by Jayce while Viktor observed the crowd, his gaze suddenly locking on you the moment he noticed you.

“Isn’t that...?” Sky began, but you quickly shushed her, not wanting to draw attention.

“Yes,” you whispered, pulling her to a less conspicuous spot. “They came to the café last week. I made their coffee.”

Sky gave you a look, half-amused, half-curious. “And you’re acting like they’re celebrities because...?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, your eyes involuntarily drifting back to the duo. Jayce was in his element, charming the audience with his enthusiasm, while Viktor’s focus remained unwavering, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd as if seeking something—or someone.

When his gaze landed on you again, a jolt of recognition passed between you. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, before returning his attention to the presentation. Jayce, meanwhile, finished his explanation with a flourish, earning a round of applause.

“That was something,” Sky said, nudging you again. “You should go talk to them.”

“What? No!” you hissed, horrified at the suggestion. “They wouldn’t even remember me.”

Sky shrugged, her grin mischievous. “Your loss. But don’t come crying to me when you regret it later.”

Ignoring her, you turned your attention back to the exhibits, though your thoughts remained tangled in the brief, charged moment of eye contact. You tried to shake it off, focusing instead on a demonstration involving automated prosthetics. The technology was fascinating, and you couldn’t help but compare it to your own fledgling designs.

“See? Inspiration everywhere,” Sky said, pulling you towards another booth. “Now, let’s soak it all in so you can finish that damn assignment.”

Despite her teasing, you found yourself immersed in the event, the initial awkwardness fading as you absorbed the wealth of ideas and innovation around you. The faces of Viktor and Jayce lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed them aside, determined to make the most of the day—and to finally tackle your project with renewed focus.

The afternoon flew by as you and Sky explored the event, each booth offering a glimpse into the cutting-edge advancements Piltover was known for. From augmented reality interfaces to bioengineered plants capable of purifying the air, it was a testament to human ingenuity and ambition.

At one booth, a young scientist demonstrated a prototype for a device that could synthesize food molecules, effectively creating meals out of raw elemental compounds. “Imagine,” he said, “no more hunger. No more wasted resources. Just pure efficiency.”

Sky raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like something straight out of a dystopian novel.”

You chuckled, but the comment stayed with you. Piltover’s progress often came at a cost, and the line between innovation and exploitation was razor-thin.

As the event wound down, you and Sky found yourselves back near the presentation area where Viktor and Jayce had been. They were packing up their equipment, their conversation animated yet hushed. You couldn’t hear the words, but their synergy was palpable, each movement and gesture perfectly in sync.

“They make a good team,” Sky observed. “Wonder if they’re as insufferable as they look.”

You snorted. “Jayce, maybe. Viktor? He seems... different.”

“Different how?”

You hesitated, struggling to articulate the impression he left. “I don’t know. Just... quieter. Like he’s always thinking about something important.”

Sky gave you a sidelong glance, her smirk returning. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, swatting at her. But the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you, and Sky’s laughter echoed as you walked away.

By the time you both finished wondering around the event that evening  you lost track of the time and it had already become 8pm. Although neither of you minded and your mind was still buzzing with ideas from the event. You spread your notes and sketches across the library table and determined to channel your inspiration into tangible progress. Sky, ever the supportive friend, plopped down beside you with her own work, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence broken only by the occasional question or comment.

Yet, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to Viktor and Jayce. Their confidence, their camaraderie, the way they seemed to embody the very essence of Piltover’s ideals. And, of course, the way Viktor’s gaze had lingered just a moment too long.

“Focus,” you muttered to yourself, forcing your attention back to your assignment. There would be time for distractions later. For now, you had work to do.

[strangelittlestories]

For most people, the first time you touch a zombie is also the last time.

For *most* people.

Like, some of them survive? But if ever a person is going to discover their Aptitude, then your first close brush with the un-unalive is going to be when you do it.

And if you live through that, then every future encounter with a vengeful corpus will be a bit easier. Even if you haven't gotten a handle on your magic yet, your fight-or-flight instincts should kick in before the creature gets too close.

For example: a Meteorologist might find themselves protected by a small, localised thunderstorm. A Schrodinger might be suddenly armoured in thick darkness. Elementals will get a burst of wind if they're lucky, and a full fireball if they're not.

(Preppers are *probably* screwed still, as a sudden awareness of all the ritual components you'd need to exorcise the wrathful attendant spirits is not actually helpful in a crisis situation.)

Some of us, however, are Necks. Y'know. Corpse-whisperers. Spirit-speakers. Ghost-botherers. Necromancers if you're accurate. 'Pathologists' if you're fancy.

For us, the first time you touch a zombie is to feel - deep in your humors - a profound sense of kinship.

Imagine it. A bloodthirsty monstrosity has wrapped its decaying arms around you and your whole world has been reduced to a set of rotting teeth growing ever larger. And suddenly you are aware that your bond with this creature is unlike any before; that every friend you've ever loved *pales* in comparison to the spiritual connection you share with the *thing* that is *trying to eat you*.

I, personally, was trying to fend a zombie off with a pair of toenail clippers when I had my Awakening.

I'm still in touch with that particular revenant. They're a chill guy. Now.

And if you're one of the *early* wave of Necks like me ... you'll also have become aware of *why* people started crawling out of their graves. Of how they were dragged kicking and screaming from the Roads of the Spirit. How they were glued none-too-gently back into their bodies.

No wonder they were vengeful, right?

Try explaining that to your plucky band of aspirant apocalypse survivors (who, by the way, are already deeply suspicious of your sudden lucky escape and new zombie bestie).

I'm just saying, if *your* Aptitude is one that does not require you to frequently touch or interact with things that (as a rule) want to eat you? You got lucky, buddy.

Because hey? Hey! Guess what? Guess what is the first piece of advice that gets given to Aspirants who are sent out into the wastelands?

“Remember: when it comes to the unalive, don’t stick your neck out. Stick your *Neck* out.”

[fitzjamesbulletwound]

hey guys, while i was rewatching for my fitzier post i made several new joplittle discoveries as well that i figured i would share! these are not going to be in order but i’ll make sure to denote which episode and which scene they happen in as best I can :) also this isn't nearly as long as the other post but here ya go:

episode 5: during crozier’s dry out speech there’s a moment i missed the first time around because jopson is in the foreground in it and pretty blurry but you can still see his eyes movements. we don’t get ned’s perspective but jopson looks at him for a long time while crozier’s talking- it starts when crozier is saying “i’m going to be unwell gentlemen”

episode 7: more from the promotion scene! mostly that EVERYONE at the table looks for edward’s reaction, including fitzjames, as if they’re not surprised that he was the happiest for jopson and were expecting it. i also noticed two very insane eye journeys while jopson is shaking everyone’s hands- the first was that fitzjames is looking at crozier through the space between edward and jopson, smiling at him, but then he tilts his eyes to edward and then to jopson or maybe in the reverse order i don’t remember, and then he looks down, still smiling and also! when jopson shakes jirv and dundy’s hands, his eyes flit between them and the letter that he can’t stop reading but before he shakes edward’s hand, he kind of goes still, looks down, then looks up at edward and holds his gaze the whole time they’re touching. also i know edward takes his glove off to shake his hand to be polite but they have the only skin to skin contact which is soooooo

episode 8: i sometimes wonder if the beginning of the breakdown in joplittle (it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine it’s f) can be attributed to their differences of opinion towards hickey and the mutiny situation- edward is doubtful and almost defensive of hickey (i think this is more his defense of hodgson and his grief at jirv’s death coming through) and jopson is the most intense and full of rage we’ve ever seen him when addressing hickey but also in the way he looks at edward when ned starts fucking up. 

episode 3: just a small thing but i noticed that jirv and hodgson look to edward when jopson walks in, similar to the jop promotion scene when everyone looks to edward first for a reaction. also i may have said this in my first post but it bears repeating the biiiig inhale exhale ned does when jop walks in and the slight smile and head inclination that jop gives him ahhhha;ldskjfls

episode 10- when dundy says they’ll leave anyone behind who can’t walk to a boat, that’s when edward gets ANGRY, and we never see him like that. he references a conversation that jopson was present for, reminding dundy of his presence there and that the statement applied to him too. I KNOW he was thinking of jopson there I fucking know it. he was furious dundy would leave him behind and in the script it specifically says that he is disgusted. 

episode 8: in the script they go to arrest hickey and sol together, you can kinda see them start to move off together when crozier tells them to go :) 

episode 6: THE joplittle look… so after edward escorts dundy in and tells the men to gather round, he goes over to specifically stand with jopson while jopson eats and ned is drinking something. like he chose to go stand with him while he was eating and ned is listening to dundy and they’re just sharing a little moment together until the bell rings. honestly when jopson is walking away and ned is watching him, i’m starting to wonder if that angry look is for crozier on jopson’s behalf (and just in general because of the situation) rather than at hickey, or maybe a little of both. the look on his face when he watches jopson walk away is very interesting to say the least

that’s all for now! just some extra stuff i thought we all might want to chew on

[linearao3]

I don’t have a new Publish or Perish chapter and probably won’t any time super soon because I am very tired and also I hate that I am being accidentally Relevant due to H-1B Discourse. So please accept this tiny little interstitial — probably the only Kaz POV I will provide for this fic. You could say there are spoilers but I think it’s more like foreshadowing? This might not even be canonical to the fic. Who can say. But please enjoy.

—

He reaches for the phone out of habit, because that’s what he does now at night, look and see if Inej has texted him. And yes, she did just leave, but you never know.

She hasn’t texted. She just left; of course she hasn’t.

He thinks vaguely that he might have read somewhere that you should ask people to text you when they get home safely. He can’t remember if this was etiquette advice, or a devious way of making sure they kept thinking about you.

He’d had some notion, in his head, that after he kissed her, she might turn in the doorway and close her hand around his jaw, pull him down to kiss her. She is so warm, and her mouth is warmer, and he imagines — imagines too much, with too much of his time and too much presumption that he’ll ever find out — that it’s even warmer than that in her cunt.

He’s jealous of the stupid toy. He’s so smug that she likes it.

He types

Sex is so strange. I had all these notions of what I wanted to do, and I didn’t do any of them, and what I did do feels like the only good thing that has ever happened to anyone ever. That’s how I felt when you came to my office, too.

He never texts her first. He likes knowing she chose to start it, that she wants it. That she’s lying in bed thinking about him. He keeps typing.

The thing is that my brother died. And that’s the only thing that ever happened to me, really.

He’s forty — okay, no, he’s not forty, but he feels like he ought to be forty — and he’s tried to have sex exactly twice before now, once with Jesper and once with Imogen and they were both so disastrous he tries not to think about it. But he’s forty or thirty or whatever and he’s coming to the end of his debt and he will take care of Rollins soon, soon, pull out the brick of Marya Van Eck and everything will crumble. And then he’ll just be — a professor, he supposes. A professor with a good salary who could get stupid nice small things and could have friends over for dinner and could have a girlfriend. Because why shouldn’t he? Except that there’s a gaping savage maw where his heart ought to be.

I do still want to fuck you. I bought some condoms. I imagined you putting one on me, like a horny sex ed class with Dr. Ghafa, and I’d be so hard in your hand.

He jerked off before she came, with the idea that he might last longer when she was actually there, and he doesn’t know if he can physically manage three in a night but his body seems interested in trying it.

He was never really a teenager, he thinks— he woke up in the hospital whatever thing he is now, which wasn’t a child and has maybe never been an adult — so maybe now he’s doing adolescence as a crash course, an intensive study in constant graceless horniness and short-sighted stupidity.

You’re never going to forgive me. I want you to. You shouldn’t. It’s just that I’m selfish. If you asked me I’ll say that it’s because I promised you but it’s really because I just want to be able to see you sometimes. I want to be able to give you things. I’m not going to send this. I just got so used to telling you things. You are so beautiful and I want you so much and I am so tired. I’m going to sleep. Sleep well, Inej. Come and talk to me.

He force-quits the chat application, drops the phone, and falls asleep. He dreams Inej smiles, bright and vicious and righteous, and tells him he did everything just right.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

lowk FUCKED up, butttttttttttttt would any of the comic book yanderes lobotomize their darling? we always talkin about willingness and shit saur... ya know!! just a lil off the top if ykwim

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒…

!!! GN reader, take a wild guess (lobotomies), neurological terms used, basic delusional behaviors, unethical uses of superpowers, unethical practices in general, mentions of brain dead/vegetative/mentally handicapped reader, Hal’s part briefly describes actual lobotomy procedures, Joker jumpscare in Harvey’s, gaslighting, a small history lesson here and there, themes of forced drug abuse, Tim Drake being a good candidate for the Saw franchise.

GRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHGHHHRRR. Anon, come over here so I can give you a lil forehead smooch. I’ve always wanted to write a yan lobotomy blurb, but… I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go. Or who to write about. The idea is was legit, “hee hee, wouldn’t it be silly if there was a yandere lobotomy fic” and that’s about it. So I guess this is my chance to get some feelings out about that, yay!!

A few of these are a bit longer than usual cuz this type of shit is my jam. I also didn’t know if you wanted me to rank them on least to most likely, so shoot me a follow up ask if that’s what you wanted. Mwah!!

Bruce Wayne: Definitely not off the table. I’m willing to bet Thomas Wayne had at least one book on lobotomies; just an antique hardback that makes for an interesting read. I can see young Bruce sitting on his father’s lap in the study, tiny hands tracing over the book’s old diagrams as Thomas lovingly describes all of the morbid things they’d do to people (you know, classic father/son bonding activities). Who knew it would actually come in handy one day? Moral repercussions be damned, my man can pull off a sick lobotomy. There are of course factors he has no control over — such as your own brain plasticity and cognitive function — but that’s not exactly his fault, now is it? What your brain decides to do post-lobotomy has nothing to do with him (jokes aside, he’d be devastated if you were totally fucked up afterwards… though he’d easily adapt).

Bucky Barnes: I think he’s had enough mind-meddling of his own to give this a hard pass. It doesn’t matter how bad you are; he’s not doing anything to your brain. You’ll learn to behave on your own accord. And thank god, cuz bro would NOT make a good brain surgeon. He’d brick you so fast. Also, fun fact, the Soviets were actually the first to ban lobotomies (if memory serves correct; Google is backing me up, so… do with that what you will). I don’t know if this carries over to the KGB and their little secret evil organization side shenanigans, but yeah. Let it be known that the chances of lobotomized Bucky went down by… like… 3%.

Clark Kent: At first, I was about to say no, but then I remembered the Justice Lords from the JL cartoon, and… you know what? Maybe. It would be a very low chance, but if it’s gotten to the point where you’re a danger to yourself, Clark would have no other choice. What else can he do? Your safety always comes first and foremost. While the two dots singed into your forehead would raise a few brows, it’s not like he lets you out much anyway. He’d spend a long time trying to cope with the guilt. He did this to save you… he just had to save you from yourself. At least his heat vision is precise enough that he wouldn’t fuck it up. Now all that’s left to do is hope that you turn out okay. He’ll consider it a job well done if you can at least still smile at him.

Dick Grayson: He really isn’t that much different from Bruce, is he? Yeah, he’d do it. Maybe with a few more reservations, but he’d still do it. I think it’s in your best interest if you don’t let him spiral this far, because he’s not against the idea of you being in a completely vegetative state. Yeah, it would suck that you aren’t as active of a participant as he’d want you to be, but having complete control over your care is good enough for him. He’ll easily let his own delusions fill that void. Honestly, a part of him might even hope you turn out with a mental capacity of a toddler. It’s the best of both worlds; while you can still respond to your environment, you also rely heavily on his care. Perfectly pliable in his hands… a dream come true! Yay!

Hal Jordan: Nah. He’s good. Last he checked, he’s not the most qualified person in the world to quite literally poke around in someone’s brain. Hell, even the thought of it makes him sick. No drilling holes into skulls, no skewering needles through eye sockets, no thanks! He’ll leave that up to the people who can stomach the grosser shit. Now, is the thought of a quick operation that theoretically fixes your bratty behavior tempting? Sure. But Hal’s not an idiot; he knows the risks, and those risks just don’t seem worth it. There’s a reason lobotomies are unethical nowadays. Unless the topic comes up in some sort of show or movie, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Harvey Dent: Neither Harvey nor Two Face are all that keen on the idea. They might’ve done some fucked up shit to you (definitely Two Face more than Harvey), but a lobotomy? That’s just a new level of fucked up. A Joker level of fucked up, even (and the thought of being compared to that piece of shit makes both sides of Dent want to light up an entire room). Besides, there’s no one on the entire planet he’d trust to pull off a procedure like that on you. While he might know a guy or two who would totally do it in this day and age, he’d sooner put a bullet in their brain than let them fuck around with yours. That being said, don’t think you’re totally out of the woods. At the end of the day, it’s all up to the coin, remember?

Jaime Reyes: Would Jaime? No. Absolutely not. It’s unethical, it’s fucked, and it’s also just gross. Anything to do with surgery makes him feel extremely squeamish, and he might actually pass out if he thinks about it too hard. But would Khaji Da? Yeah. Probably. Though it would have to be an extreme scenario, where you’re just completely beyond controlling. Khaji Da knows the risks, and while he’ll execute the technical aspects flawlessly, the results are naturally unpredictable. It would be unfortunate if the scarab lost its host’s mate. Your poor little noggin is at the mercy of Jaime’s resolve. Is he in full control? Then don’t worry, his incoherent mutterings about severing connections in your prefrontal cortex are nothing but his weird intrusive thoughts. But… if he isn’t… uh-oh.

Peter Parker: Nope. No lobotomies here. He’s quite aware of the repercussions, both morally and practically. Honestly, he doesn’t even see most of your behaviors as something in need of correcting in the first place. Maybe if you were causing yourself any sort of harm, but other than that, he can put up with a lot of your bullshit. Talking back? Name calling? Hitting and kicking? Straight-up just being abusive? As long as you don’t leave him, he’ll work with it! Peter is the exact definition of a pushover yandere. You can get away with a lot, and that includes not getting lobotomy!

Reed Richards: I can see him pulling one off. Is it the most desirable outcome? Definitely not. But there’s only so much he can put up with before he finally puts his foot down. If you’re the insubordinate type, you’ve probably given him at least 17 heart attacks by now, and it’s only natural he’d come up with a way to curb those behaviors. See, me personally, if I were to get a lobotomy from any of these men, I’m calling up Reed. He’s no neurologist, but I’m sure he can whip up something to study your brain waves and accurately predict the outcome of a lobotomy. Plus, he’d probably have the safest environment and instruments for the operation. You won’t feel a thing, trust. Now let’s hope months of collecting data and trial runs on some less-than-willing test subjects pay off!

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, no… probably not. Thanks to Sinister, he knows first hand how invasive a lobotomy is. You’d have to be really unstable for him to even consider that idea. He definitely has the means to do it — all he has to do is put a finger up to your forehead and burn through your frontal lobe — but having the resolve to do it is a different story. While he might’ve turned out semi-okay post-lobotomy, there’s no telling what would happen after yours. Way too risky. Only something to consider as a totally nuclear option. So don’t make him do something he’d rather not, okay? It’d be better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

Scott Summers: Like Gambit, he’s a victim of Sinister’s fuckery but 10 times worse. I don’t think he’d be able to stomach the thought of doing anything surgical to you no matter how disobedient you are. But… maybe we can make this a little interesting. Scott’s attracted some hella weird attention over the years… who’s to say someone like Sinister wouldn’t get his hands on you and do a little fucking around? Maybe Goblin Queen? A particularly pissed off Phoenix? While Scott himself wouldn’t dare lobotomize you, I think there’s some people out there who would. Or, hear me out: mind controlled Cyclops almost crushing your skull with an optic blast. It would be more blunt force than an actual lobotomy, but I’m willing to bet it would fuck up your cognitive function all the same. Despite the immense horror and guilt he’d feel afterwards, a small part of him can see it as a blessing in disguise (depending on how you turn out, that is).

Steve Rogers: Honestly, Cap was frozen at the funniest point in history ever. The amount of lobotomies increased exponentially from the 40s to 50s (mind you, WWII ended in 1945), and then antipsychotics were introduced as a more ethical way to treat mental illness, which Steve wouldn’t know shit about. Unfortunately for all of my fellow sickos out there, lobotomies were probably never a thing Steve liked about the 40s, but allow me to offer an alternative. Steve thinks there’s clearly something wrong with your mental health; why else would you act like you hate him? Luckily for him, this is the 21st century, where people know much more about mental illnesses and disorders. He could easily pull some strings as Captain America and get you the help you so obviously need. So, I guess the question is, how many different prescriptions of antipsychotics can one take at once? Guess you’ll find out!

Tim Drake: So… uh… y’all better pray that he doesn’t get any intrusive thoughts about this shit. And if he does, PRAY that he snaps out of his weird fit before it’s too late. DO NOT LET BRO COOK. I don’t think he’d totally fuck it up or anything, but the chances of him spiraling and performing more than one are dangerously high. You might find the out hard way just how much poking and prodding a brain can take before it shuts down. Depending on how manic he is, he might actually lobotomize you while you’re conscious. No anesthesia, no painkillers, just him pouncing on you with a hammer and pick. You will be rawdogging this lobotomy like god intended. That’s when he’d fuck your shit up. Unless you want him to brick your brain, you better fight him off and wrestle those tools out of his hands. The post-manic episode clarity would be insane. “Uh… sorry I tried to give you a lobotomy.” Cool, man. Okay.

Wally West: Wally “if you need to give someone a lobotomy, that’s honestly a skill issue” West. Who needs that shit when you’re THE master manipulator? It would take some god-tier perception (or paranoia) to see through a fraction of his act, and even so, what good will any of that do when he’s got everyone else wrapped around his finger? Fighting against him is a dangerous game. If need be, he’ll play the loving caretaker while you’re the loony one. Poor Wally… he’s trying to help you through your issues, and this is the thanks he gets? Wow. Now, for the sake of a little exploration, I think it’s important to note that Wally could theoretically go through with it (by phasing his hand through your skull and solidifying at the right angle), but that sounds way too unstable to pull off. It would probably run the risk of turning your brain into a soup, and I’m pretty sure that kills people.

[oppysbabydoll]

NSFW ask game, 2 and 6(with a human for both questions), Bumblebee~

(nsfw ask game can be found here!)

2) what are their kinks?

hmm… depends on the adaption but i think in general he loves humans. platonic, romantically, sexually. i don’t know if that’s an actual kink but… humans (or organics) would probably be considered a kink in cybertronian society

something i’m sure of is that he has a size difference kink. you have to if you’re a transformer dating a human; they’re very small to transformers. and while earthspark bots are honestly much smaller than other iterations they’re still generally bigger. the ones born in cybertron at least.

for bumblebee, he’s typically always been a smaller bot, i know he gets a power trip seeing your tiny body shivering as he puts his spike in you. it makes him feel things he shouldn’t feel, as the autobots scout. but he doesn’t stop the feeling nonetheless. it’s too good.

he’d also rather die than admit it but lingerie makes him feel… something. he’s always been fascinated with human culture, and the sexual outfits for humans… makes him horny too. what’s better than you wearing it is him wearing it and you removing it off… you see his prefluids leaking out onto the lingerie from excitement…

i got this idea from another user but. it’s canon that bumblebee merch is a thing. so it wouldn’t be impossible for transformer inspired dildos to be a thing. seeing you use a bumblebee inspired dildo (the stinger) would make him feel a certain type of way and lose his shit

6) what was their first time having sex like?

i imagine that while wartime didn’t allow for anything as serious as conjunx enduras (basically cybertronian’s concept of marriage) bumblebee still messed around with other bots. he was especially eager to please others then. he remembers those times with embarrassment and cringes.

with humans… he’s never done it. sure, he’s imagined, but never actually do the deed. when you guys do have sex, it’s slow and careful. he’s ridiculously gentle because he’s that scared of hurting you. he gets more confident as you two frag more but… it takes time to get there.

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Eleven | Remedies and Apologies

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Eleven | Remedies and Apologies

It took Soren a few minutes in the bathroom to compose himself after witnessing what he did with the miniscule woman. She was so small – so real. She could’ve been mistaken for being human if she were average height. The minute facial expressions were so clear that Soren could picture them if he closed his eyes. It was lucky that he was so good at reading people after the past few years of training.

Also, the girl didn’t have a poker face.

After pinching himself for the dozenth time and realizing this was no dream, he splashed a few handfuls of lukewarm water onto his face before heading for the kitchen. The sight that was waiting for him in the other room, however, made him wish it was a dream.

Dorian and Rey were both crestfallen on the couch. Shoulders were slumped. Eyes glossy with tears. Bottom lips trembling. Both boys sat on their hands and were holding still as they sat. Soren knew the position, since he was the one who implemented it. Well… his mom did anyway…

It was the position of punishment – time out.

When he did something wrong, his mom would make him sit on a chair quietly, usually with his hands under his legs, while he thought about what he did wrong. Soren didn’t experience this a lot as a child, but it was an effective method meant for him to reflect on what happened.

What was more astounding was the fact that Dorian and Rey were there. Soren hadn’t told them to go sit on time out. He’d just told them to go to the kitchen. Did they do this themselves? For feeling bad for what happened? Soren cleared his throat and both boys glanced over their shoulder, Dorian reaching up and wiping his nose on his sleeve, before looking away. It was a pitiful sight, but Soren was glad that the two of them seemed to recognize that they had messed up.

He walked around the couch and sat down on the wooden coffee table so he could face the two of them. His hazel eyes flicked from boy to boy before he took a breath and said, “Did you two put yourselves on time out?”

Both boys nodded.

“Do you know why you put yourselves on time out?” asked Soren. Both of them nodded before sniffling, their little brows furrowing as they shifted uncomfortably under Soren’s gaze. “Care to tell me about it?” Dorian was the first to pipe up between the two of them.

“Because,” he sniffled, snot rattling around in his nose. “I hurt the little person. I… I didn’t mean to. She was falling off of the desk and… and I didn’t think I grabbed her that hard. But… I’m sorry. I’m the one who said we shouldn’t bother you.” Soren clenched his jaw and nodded slowly before glancing at Rey.

“Rey? Why did you put yourself on time out?” asked Soren. Tears spilled down the cheeks of the young, pale blue eyed boy.

“Because I… I knew I should go get you and I didn’t. She was hurting all night because I didn’t do the right thing,” Rey said, his trembling voice tugging at his oldest brother’s heart strings.

Gosh… they’ve grown up so much. Mom… you’d be proud.

“Thank you both for apologizing,” stated Soren softly. “But remember what I said in the other room? I might not be the one you need to apologize to. Yeah?”

“H-how is s-sh-she?” asked Rey. “Is sh-she mad at us?”

“Right now, I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything as of now, but I think it’s just because she’s a bit scared; and it’s okay to be scared. If you think about how big the world is to us, imagine what it would be like coming from her perspective.” The boys nodded in agreement, so Soren continued. “She’s doing well right now, but she’s going to need some time to feel better and recover. I think she’s sick, probably with what we all had, and her arm is going to be sore.

“So, if you weren’t feeling well and were hurt, what would be something nice for someone to do for you?” asked Soren. The boys’ brows furrowed as they glanced at each other. As their caregiver, it was up to Soren to teach empathy and problem solving skills; and this was the perfect opportunity to test his two young brothers.

It only took a few seconds for Rey to speak first, muttering, “Get a comfy blanket?” It came out like a question, but it was a good start.

“Good. If she’s cold or wants to rest, a comfy blanket would be very nice to get her,” stated Soren.

“Let her pick the show she wants to watch,” suggested Dorian.

“Also a good idea. She might just want to rest at the moment though, but we can ask when she wakes up,” agreed Soren.

“I could make her something so she doesn’t have to use her hurt arm to reach for stuff,” Rey said eagerly.

“Also a good idea. We’ll need to spend time making it for her though. It has to be the right size and something she can use on her own,” Soren reminded.

“What if… what if we share some of our toys? She maybe could use some of them since she’s so small,” Dorian said.

“Again, good thinking. Remember we don’t want her to feel like a toy though. A person’s a person, no matter how small, and giving her pieces of toys or actual toys might give her the wrong idea,” Soren stated, which made Dorian’s features fall ever so slightly. His mind was in the right place though. Soren remembered the boys had some play toys that were forks and plates and knives, all things which the miniscule woman would be able to use. 

“Um… Get her something good to drink? And maybe eat?” asked Rey. Soren smiled and nodded, which brought back that little bit of twinkle in the boys’ eyes.

“I think that’s a great idea; and, while she’s resting, we can make something for her and for ourselves,” Soren smiled. “Now, who’s going to come help me in the kitchen?”

Both Dorian and Rey glanced eagerly at one another before looking back at Soren. Their collective illness had left them eating the minimum amount each day and, finally, they had an appetite again. They would have a chance to have a good breakfast for the first time in a week, and they would get to do something nice for their new little friend.

So, after Soren gave them a quick hair ruffle, the two youngsters trotted along behind Soren to help make things right.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Darkness. Bliss. Quiet. Warmth. Aching. Throbbing. Worry. Panic. Ease. Confusion. Exhaustion. The different feelings and thoughts and sensations swirled around her mind as she attempted to open her eyes for the first time in who knew how long. There were a few things that stood out to her.

One, she was still sick. A clogged nose and sore throat told her that much. She silently thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t nauseous anymore. It probably had something to do with the cracker piece and cap of water Soren had given her before she’d passed out.

That’s right!

Ashlynn’s groggy senses sharpened in an instant as the clear memory of her simply laying down and falling asleep with a human within arm’s reach of her flashed before her eyes. Her body lurched involuntarily as she attempted to sit upright, but the immediate twinge in her arm told her she needed to move slower if she didn’t want to hurt herself more than what she already was. A fuzzy blanket was draped over her shoulder, which she vaguely remembered pulling onto her body as she fell asleep.

What kind of idiot Borrower am I? Falling asleep with a human so close by? I’m just asking to be… Ashlynn looked around the room while she felt her chest tighten as her thought tapered off into a single word. Caught…

The word rattled around in her head.

Caught. I’ve been seen. I’ve been caught. How on earth am I going to get out of this one?

Ashlynn glanced up at the ceiling, a sense of vertigo tugging her nausea back into the forefront of her mind. The Borrower woman tore her eyes away as she focused on her surroundings. The bottle cap filled partially with water was still in front of her. The cracker fragments were within arm’s reach. The red bag and container with the blue lid were gone, as was the human.

As far as she could tell, nothing else had been touched or removed. The only main difference was that the door was completely closed instead of being slightly propped open. On any other day, Ashlynn would be able to hear everything going on in the apartment and be able to pick up on faint scents that would be dangerous or good for her. Nothing was worse than losing your senses as a Borrower, and Ashlynn had lost two plus her injured arm.

Everything inside of her felt heavy, as though she’d spent the entire day borrowing and climbing. The spark of energy from earlier was depleted, and it was likely not going to come back without more rest. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. The piecemeal ideas coming to her were poor attempts to escape from the top of the bed and survive until her arm felt better.

I could try and climb down. No. Not if my arm keeps twinging like this. I’ll drop and fall. I could have a one handed line and lower myself down. No. I don’t have a line or safety pin. I might have that in my bag. Did I bring it with me? Shoot… it’s in the drawer. I can’t climb that again. I could try and make the jump to the bedside table, but… no… that’s not going to work either.

Ashlynn wasn’t sure how many poorly thought-out ideas came and went, but the ultimate realization came as she attempted to move her arm to test mobility.

I can’t leave… Not on my own… and not like this.

Her chest tightened, constricting her breathing, while her eyes started to burn again. It was a crushing realization. The autonomy she’d so enjoyed for all of her life had been crippled. The dangerous thought of whether or not she could even survive on her own even if she did get away began to grow stronger and stronger.

Before she could spiral completely into this new, crushing thought, Ashlynn felt the ground beginning to shake ever so slightly. It was low, deep, and rhythmic – all pointing to the signature human footstep approaching. The Borrower’s instinct was to flee and hide behind the edge of the drawer, but that dangerous thought of being unable to escape her current fate left Ashlynn planted firmly on the bedspread.

The door cracked open followed by a few distinct taps. Ashlynn could see Soren’s face as he opened the door and peered in. The sight alone was unnerving, sending a chill down her shivering spine, but she stayed seated. Whether she was freezing or simply too exhausted to move, Ashlynn wasn’t sure anymore. What she did know was that there was something warm and inviting in Soren’s smile as he pushed the door open a little more so he could step partially into the room.

“Hey there, little miss. Sleep alright?” asked Soren, his deep, melodic voice drifting through the air like warm cinnamon sugar. Ashlynn remained silent, still debating whether or not she should break the last Borrower rule and actually talk to the human in front of her.

When he didn’t receive a response, Soren nodded and pointed further into the room, asking, “Is it okay if I come in?”

Ashlynn wasn’t sure what to do. Did she respond? Nod? Shake? Say nothing? Or could Soren simply discern through whatever method he was using earlier to simply read her mind? A smile tugged at the corner of Soren’s lips as he nodded.

“Still not sure, huh?” he muttered. “I can come back later if you’d like. We just wanted to see if you were hungry and felt well enough to eat a little something.” Ashlynn chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought about the question. She didn’t really feel hungry, but then again she could probably eat. Was she actually not hungry? Or was it because she was feeling stressed and sick that kept her appetite at bay?

I have to do something.

Is nodding considered against the rules?

Would it be so bad if I nodded or shook my head?

“I’ll come back in a few minutes. Sound like a plan?” Soren’s decision took care of Ashlynn’s predicament, which was a relief. He’d be back sooner than later though, and she was no closer to a proper answer.

In what felt like only a few seconds, there was another set of short taps on the door as it once again swung open. Ashlynn’s heart skipped like a boulder down the mountain, crashing against her ribs in solid thuds, as her blue gray eyes snapped back to the door. It was Soren again. This time, however, he had something in his hands.

“Hey there, little miss. Thought any about if you’re hungry or not?” Ashlynn’s insides felt hollow, but still no appetite came to her. I need to eat something, probably. Alright… I… I have to do something…. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this!

Ashlynn looked back up with reluctance into Soren’s reassuring golden hazel eyes, the curiosity and fascination they held obviously being kept at bay and replaced with concern, before tearing her eyes away and doing something she hoped she wouldn’t regret.

She nodded.

The Borrower rules were always adamant, as were other Borrowers she’d met along with her family members, that the rule was, “Do not speak to a human. Don’t let them know you can talk.” The second part was, “Don’t let them know you can understand them. Otherwise, you’ll never be able to leave.” Ashlynn was purposefully ignoring that part of the rule in hopes that Soren, a human, would be understanding and let her go; or, at the very least, not stop her when she was well enough to leave.  

She felt her insides churn when she saw Soren’s eyes widen, even from across the room, as he registered her acknowledgement of his question. What was going through his mind? Was he contemplating if it was a fluke? Or was he making plans to keep her now that she’d made her intelligence known? At the moment, it only prompted him to ask another question, which was, “Is it okay if I come in? I have a few things I hope you might like.”

Again, Ashlynn forced herself to swallow the bile in the back of her throat as she nodded again. Her chest compressed. Everything felt tight. She listened to the approaching footsteps and shut her eyes tight, wishing herself to be anywhere but here. The comforter nearby shifted, telling Ashlynn that Soren was within a foot or so of her. She flinched away involuntary, which only made her arm twinge.

She felt herself starting to shake as she chewed the bottom of her lip. The dry flecks of skin pealed off easily from her teeth scraping against them, creating a nasty flaking paste in her mouth. To keep herself from gagging, she reached up and spit out the substance into her sleeve while wiping her mouth.

Thud.

Thud.

Ashlynn thought it sounded like Soren’s knees hitting the ground one at a time, and a quick glance up revealed she was right. Soren was indeed only a few feet away, further than she thought, and an immense wooden tray was to her left.

It was then that she heard something she wasn’t expecting – a nervous exhale. Ashlynn glanced up just in time to catch the slightest bit of nerves in Soren’s eyes as he attempted to smile with some reassurance.

Weird for him to be nervous. He’s the human here, not me. He’s got the power. He’s in control. Why is he nervous?

“Feeling any better?” Soren asked. Ashlynn clenched her jaw, completely entranced by his eyes, before looking down at her feet that she’d pulled closer to her, and shaking her head. Again, a faint, nervous breath from Soren. “No? Well, that’s to be expected. You were only asleep for a little while. You’ll need more sleep and, well, pretty much everything else if you want to get better.

“Speaking of which, we weren’t sure what you’d like so we made a little spread. We have some cut fruit, cream of wheat, pancakes, sausage, a bit of bread, and some of the soup that I made for the boys. They call it magic broth, but it’s just a bunch of vegetables and meat that’ll help you feel better. Sorry if that was a lot all at once. And don’t feel obligated to finish anything, especially if you don’t like it. Okay?”

The list was enough to make Ashlynn’s head spin. It sounded like he listed off an entire pantry’s worth of food, and yet it was all there on that tray. Honestly, crackers sounded the best because she hadn’t been sick after eating one of those. Plus, she hadn’t heard of a bunch of the things Soren talked about; but, if it made her feel better, she was willing to give it a try. Getting out of here was the goal, and the sooner the better.

“Do… you need help up? Or do you just want to move over here at your own pace?” asked Soren. Ashlynn’s expression, even before she shook her head, must’ve said it all because Soren smiled and chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I’d probably say the same thing if I were in your shoes. Just two more things and then I’ll leave you alone. Deal?”

The question was an earnest one, and he was obviously seeking some kind of confirmation, so Ashlynn nodded. It made her insides twist uncomfortably, but it was with the promise that she would be left on her own.

“Alrighty. Thing one is whether or not you feel up to taking some medicine.” The word made Ashlynn’s insides clench. Medicine? Like the stuff that made me throw up and got me into this whole mess in the first place? “I don’t know if you want to take any, but it might make you feel better faster and let your body get some essential rest. I also don’t know what you can and can’t take, so we can play that by ear if you’re willing to try it.

“Thing two, and you’ll probably say no but I want to ask, is that the boys want to apologize to you.”

Ashlynn’s blood ran cold.

Apologize?

The boys?

Have those two young boys near me again?

“I know, and I figured that would be your reaction; but, I promised I would ask. They feel really bad about everything that happened last night and want to say that they’re sorry. It’s up to you, obviously, but it would mean a lot to them. They could just stand by the door and not come in if that’s what you’re worried about,” explained Soren. “But, anyway, I wanted to ask on their behalf.”

Ashlynn wasn’t sure what to think. Much like the dilemma with whether to nod and shake her head to communicate roughly with Soren, there was no clear answer that made her feel confident. If she said no, it might make Soren and the boys angry and lead to some kind of punishment of some kind. If she said yes, she would have to see the two young humans and possibly have to interact with them as well.

Soren, thankfully, had given her the choice and simply pleaded the boys’ case. After a brief silence, Soren left the room and Ashlynn was once again alone. She still felt weak. Every part of her felt tingly and brittle, like she’d fall apart at any moment. It took nearly five minutes just to stand on her feet and prop herself against the wooden drawer that was once her prison. With a little effort, she managed to make it up onto the tray to view the enormous buffet in front of her. Everything was in some kind of bottle cap or tin foil, perfectly laid out along with what looked like a small plastic bowl and a few tiny utensils that looked like they belonged to a doll house.

She’d never seen so much food. Not only that. Ashlynn had never seen so much food untouched and unspoiled, just ready to eat. It made her head spin that humans could have so much at hand while her and every other Borrower had to fight every day for unspoiled scraps. Days of not eating well made her mouth water at the mere sight of the display before her, even though her appetite wasn’t completely back. She recognized almost everything, but decided to focus on the “magic broth” Soren had mentioned.

Ashlynn walked over, sat down, and cautiously dipped out a small portion into the tiny plastic bowl she’d been given. Her sense of taste was skewed, but it was still warm and, from what she could tell, delicious. She’d never had something so mouthwatering before. Between that and the bread, she nearly finished the entire bottle cap as she sat there in silence as she picked up fragments of sound in the apartment.

So… they eat like this every day? What is there to ever complain about then? It must be nice, not having to worry where your next meal is coming from…. Maybe… being a pet wouldn’t be so bad…

It was an intrusive thought, jolting Ashlynn out of her stupor.

What?! What on earth am I thinking?! I’m not a pet. I’m a person. I’m a Borrower. I shouldn’t even be out here! I’m just here until I’m better. Right? Just until I break this stupid sickness and then I’ll be back in the walls, with or without my arm feeling up to snuff.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The soft three wrap knocking on the door snagged Ashlynn’s attention and directed it back toward the door where, sure enough, there was Soren. He was standing there with a friendly and hopeful look as he cracked open the door a little wider.

“Hey there, little miss. How are you feeling? Is it okay if I come in?” Ashlynn thought about the question for a minute while she huddled on the tray before nodding. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but noticed once he came in that he had a couple of small cups in his hands. Well, small for him. For Ashlynn, they looked like wash bins for dishes or clothes.

When Soren was close enough, he once again knelt on the ground a few feet or so away from where Ashlynn was sitting, making her heart jump into her throat, as she glimpsed at what Soren had in the cups. The nausea in the back of her throat reared its head when she noticed the dark teal liquid in one of the cups.

“I hope you’re feeling better. Looks like you enjoyed some of the soup at least,” Soren said. Ashlynn glanced down bashfully, unsure if she was supposed to have as much as she did or if it was just a ration, before Soren continued, saying, “If you want any more, just let me know.

“Anyway, I’m back to see if you’ve thought about the two things I mentioned earlier. One about the medicine and two about the boys. Any thoughts?”

Ashlynn found herself chewing on the inside of her cheek again nervously. She hadn’t really given it much thought, and now Soren was expecting some kind of answer. She pulled her injured arm closer to her torso, making it twinge once again, while averting her eyes.

“Not sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought it might help you get some decent rest,” stated Soren. “And… for the boys? Is that also a no?”

Ashlynn swallowed dryly, her sore throat forming a tight lump and making it difficult for her. She could still taste the sick mucus coating her throat as she did. It made the Borrower want to gag. This time, however, her apprehension seemed to ease as she thought about the pale blue eyes of the youngest boy.

That one… Rey… he didn’t seem angry or malicious when he was holding onto me. And… the other… Dorian… it feels… like an accident. He shouldn’t have grabbed so hard, but… Soren’s right… he’s just a kid. Both of them are. They’re just kids who want to say they’re sorry. Maybe… I owe them that much? I guess it’s all Soren can ask of me. If letting the boys say sorry is the only “payment” for patching me up and letting me go, then it is a small price to pay.

She couldn’t believe it, but Ashlynn let herself shake her head. Soren’s eyes gleamed happily as he asked cautiously, “You… just shook your head? So, that means yes? That you’d be okay with the boys apologizing?”

Ashlynn nodded slowly, but tensely.

“That’s… great. Seriously, thank you. This’ll mean the world to them. I’ll keep them by the door for you, if you’re okay with that,” Soren said. Ashlynn nodded again.

Soren’s heart was racing as he marveled at the hand sized woman sitting on the tray in front of him. Her responding to “yes” and “no” questions was both a shock and novel experience. Soren suspected she could understand him, but it was only confirmed with that first small nod. He could only hope that her responding mixed with his efforts and his brothers’ apology would help form a little more trust with the miniscule woman.

He stood as carefully as he could and stepped out of the room to see his two brothers eagerly waiting by the edge of the kitchen table. Both of their pale blue eyes looked at him with hopeful anticipation as he stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him. With a smile, the boys knew immediately that their request had been granted. Before they could start cheering, however, Soren knelt in front of them and laid a heavy hand on each of their shoulders.

“Okay, you two, we need to be on our best behavior. She agreed, but you will have to stand by the door. She’s still a bit apprehensive of all of us. Speak clearly and gently. She’s still sick and hurt. I’m sure all of this is a lot for her. More importantly, she’s a person with thoughts and feelings. We need to respect that. Understand?” asked Soren. “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”

“Yessir,” both Dorian and Rey said simultaneously. Soren smiled, coaxing the boys forward as he stood, before tapping on the door again.

When the door opened again, Ashlynn saw all three humans consuming the doorway from one side to the other. It was an unnerving sight, and it made Ashlynn squirm ever so slightly. Still, true to his word, Soren kept the boys by the door as they spotted her. All six eyes were fixed on her body, making her feel like she was standing under a magnifying glass, a thing she found unnerving in the last home she lived in.

“Um… miss?” spoke up the youngest as he glanced up at Soren before looking back at her. “I’m… well… we’re really sorry about last night. We shouldn’t have put you in the drawer, and we should’ve seen if you were okay before we went to bed. I should’ve gotten Soren to help check on you, and I’m sorry I didn’t do that.” Tears glistened in the boy’s eyes as he sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“I’m sorry too, miss,” Dorian said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or your arm. I thought I was helping you by keeping you from falling off of the desk. I shouldn’t have grabbed so hard. And I should’ve gotten help sooner with Rey. I hope you can forgive me.”

Seeing the two human boys with glistening tears rolling down their cheeks sent Ashlynn back into her memory. She remembered seeing her younger brother apologize like this when he had broken her first borrowing and, in that moment, Ashlynn could only sense genuine remorse from the two young humans.

It was a pitiful, sad sight. It made Ashlynn’s heart flutter and left her nodding subtly before tearing her eyes away from the three humans. She missed the look of surprise and relief on Dorian’s and Rey’s faces when they saw her nod, but what she didn’t miss was Soren ushering the boys out of the room and walking back over to her.

“Thank you…”

Ashlynn glanced into Soren’s eyes just for a moment and, like every other time, saw fascination, but also gratitude. It made his eyes shine like the evening sun on a summer day. Ashlynn wasn’t sure if it was her fever or the sudden thrum in her heart beating faster, but her cheeks and body suddenly felt completely flush.

She looked away quickly, hoping Soren didn’t notice, and listened as he asked about whether or not she wanted to take either of the medicines he brought. The teal one was something called NyQuil, which helped with fevers and cold symptoms as well as her pain. The other one with a much longer, technical name that Ashlynn had no hope of pronouncing, was meant to help reduce the fever and help with the pain. Though she hated both options, especially how they smelled, the one that could handle it all was, to her dismay, the teal NyQuil.

“You don’t like the smell or taste?” asked Soren. Ashlynn shook her head as she stared at her muted reflection in the viscous fluid. “Well, that’s good. Means your like everyone else who’s ever taken it. Word of advice. Hold your nose as you swallow and drink something immediately after to get rid of the taste. It’ll make the experience less miserable.”

Ashlynn remembered Soren saying something like that to his brothers before they took this medicine, and she intended on taking his advice. Taking a deep breath, she only took a single mouthful as she held her nose and swallowed. It felt like the same mucus coating her throat as the liquid traveled down her throat. There was a burning and cooling sensation happening all at once, making her gag as she had done the night before. Quickly though, she stepped over to the cup of water Soren had brought and drank as much as she could muster before gasping for air again.

The moment she breathed, she could feel the cooling burn the medicine left behind, but it was nowhere near as bad as what had happened the first time she put the teal liquid into her mouth.

“Better?” asked Soren. The Borrower woman nodded as she drank a little more water to soothe her aching throat. “Good. Well, you should try and get some more rest, okay? That medicine will let you sleep long and hard, so take advantage of it. I’ll make sure the boys don’t come bother you, but I’ll be back to check if you need anything. Sound good? And don’t worry about the food. I’ll leave it here if you get peckish.”

Ashlynn watched as Soren once again vacated the room, surrendering it completely to her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way back to the wooden box and retrieved her blanket. She pulled it over to the corner and made a comfortable place before laying down, eyelids drifting lower and lower as relaxation flirted with her desire to sleep.

I’ll be better soon. I just have to make it a few more days and then I’ll escape. I hope I’m better by then anyway…

And Soren… he’s been so kind. Maybe… maybe he’s not such a bad human. Maybe none of them are…. No. Don’t worry about that now. Get some sleep. Feel better. Find a way to thank Soren… eventually.

With that, Ashlynn succumbed to sleep once more, the first signs of being on the mend on the horizon.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[inubaki]

Full Moon (nesting)

“God works in mysterious ways, Adam. It is our duty, as his children, to find the blessing in them”.

Adam ideally investigated the cracked structure of his retired helm, slipping his fingers around the outline of its single remaining socket. All traces of its original intricacies had long since evaporated like much in Hell. Worthless since the battle outside the Hazbin.

“Your son bares your resemblance all expect for this—-“ Exasperatedly, Adam tossed the helmet back into the pillowed stacks of his overly cushioned bedding. Refusing to call it for what it was. Yet, still lacked the full conviction to discard it entirely. Dispute its haunts, it had been his only shield.

“You are our only given omega since Lucifer…”

Only the Angels had been plagued with their secondary genders under God’s construct. Dispute their limitless potential, unbound forms, this aspect would always remain true about them. Alpha, beta, omega; it was a world utterly casted from humanity. Bordering on forbidden, but also rendered inconceivable to them. Adam had initially lacked the nose nor instinct to read what Lucifer had been, until death or god had plagued it upon him.

“None of the others have come to us like you, Adam? Do you not see what that means? You are a gift….”

His palms still shock as he fight the compulsion the righten the sheets as his heavy form shifted. Even the once hated ducks were an addiction he could not properly sleep without. Along with strips of his uniform, his favorite sheets, random pieces from the hotel, Adam could not leave the bed till it all fit right in its proper place. Especially Lucifer’s things.

“Not all destinies need to be perceived as a misery.”

“Addie?” Lucifer had learned to pause at the end of bedding. Coming along way from the small king that had clung to him so desperately, like the last drop of water from hell. The full scope of Lucifer’s scent had initially been suffocating. Adam had lived thousand of years in avoidance since Sera’s revelation. While in hell, Lucifer had been starved for it. And apparently more.

“How are you both?” His scent was something burning yet never disintegrating. Lucifer made the air taste like Eden on fire.

“Maybe this can be repentance…”

Adam brushed his hands over his heavy stomach, the result of a full moon and a taste of what a curse could be. A taste he remembered fondly as he ran his tongue over his prominent fangs. He hide his smile by burying his face into Lucifer’s forfeited jacket. “Fine…” he muttered into the fabric. Fully knowing Lucifer could hear him as well as scent his welcoming. “I think I need reminding why getting so fat is worth it—-“

Lucifer was quick to flounder over the pillows and sheets, half tangled and squirming his way to Adam’s side. The angel laughed seeing more a duck than a seraphim finally leech himself upon him. The king of hell was clingy but gentle, burying his face into Adam’s bitten neck while his hands slide delicately around his prominent stomach. Adam learned to allow Lucifer to take in his fill or risk a possible panic attack. The isolation Lucifer suffered solely by being stripped by all his instincts compelled for a pack function. But that was not entirely the reason for Lucifer’s mental starvation.

“You can help bless Heavens with the children Lucifer had pridefully refused us…”

Lucifer pushed away Adam’s helmet with a wisp of his tail to covet more room for himself. The extermination uniform had functioned as a shield that Adam had buried himself behind for centuries. Lucifer allowed its horrid presence to remain if only for Adam’s comfort. Compromises they were slowly building together.

“My Addie…” Lucifer purred while he buried his face between the space of Adam’s wings.

—————- based off @rainforestakiie’s amazing story. I adore it so much. It’s just a little addition, don’t take it as canon. I was just given permission to fawn all over it.

the actual good story is linked! Either aliens or lions next time!

[x1un4rx]

| A Night to Remember | (No Outbreak) |

Pairings: Bf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A quiet night out with Joel turns into a meaningful and intimate experience for the reader. After a cozy dinner, the two of them escape to a peaceful spot to stargaze, enjoying each other’s company. It’s a night of connection, comfort, and a little bit of unexpected tension, all under the stars.

Warnings: mild language, fluff, jealousy, mild possessiveness, light romance.

A/N: I had fun (also suffered) writing this one! I wanted to make it sweet, soft, and a little steamy—because who doesn’t love a little romance, right? Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think! <3 (I didn't proof-read this properly, so apologies if something sounds weird/doesn't make sense.)

Word Count: 2,712

Credits: @adornedwithlight for the lovely dividers <33

The house was unusually quiet tonight. No sounds of Ellie barging through the door with her usual energy, no music playing from her room, no chaos over something small that you both would inevitably laugh about later. It was just the two of you, alone for the evening, and it felt like a luxury. Sarah was in college now, juggling her studies and figuring out life away from home and Ellie was at a friend’s house for the night—a sleepover, her first in weeks, and the quiet was strangely comforting.

You were standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, adjusting your hair for the third time. It wasn’t a special occasion or anything—just a romantic dinner date with Joel. But you’d been looking forward to it, especially after the week you’d both had. You were used to the small moments with him—the late-night talks, the quiet mornings—but tonight, you wanted to feel a little more… put together. The soft fabric of your dress hugged your figure just enough, nothing flashy, but enough to make you feel good about yourself. You didn’t need anything extravagant to remind you of how far you’d come with Joel. But maybe, just maybe, tonight felt different.

You caught your reflection in the mirror for a second too long and realized you were smiling at yourself. You could hear Joel’s low, familiar voice from behind the door.

“Everything alright in there?”

You rolled your eyes, still trying to get the perfect look. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just making sure I don’t look like a disaster.”

Joel’s chuckle came through the door, warm and teasing. “You can’t not look good, babe.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. That’s Joel. The man who knew exactly how to make you feel like the most beautiful person in the room—even when you weren’t trying. His words were like a secret confidence boost you never asked for but always appreciated.

You gave up trying to get your hair perfect and called out to him. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Miller.”

There was another soft knock on the door, followed by the sound of the door creaking open. Joel’s face appeared, and you immediately had to suppress a laugh. There he was, looking like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. His jeans were perfectly worn in, his shirt a little more pressed than usual, sleeves rolled up, showcasing his forearms—those strong, calloused hands that always made you feel safe.

“You still gonna be in there forever, or what?” Joel grinned, crossing his arms, leaning against the doorframe with that cocky, laid-back expression you loved so much. “I was startin’ to think you were gonna leave me hangin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, eyes scanning him up and down. “Dramatic much?”

Joel smirked, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second. He always had this way of looking at you like you were the only thing in the room. It wasn’t like he had to try—it just happened.

“Yeah, yeah. Dramatic. You ready yet, or am I gonna have to keep waitin’ for you?” he asked, moving closer, wrapping him arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder, breathing on your neck.

You felt your chest flutter, and despite the teasing in his tone, you could tell there was something softer in his eyes. Something different tonight. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You always know how to make everything look effortless, don’t you?” His voice was lower now, more sincere than teasing.

You laughed softly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You’re just saying that.” Joel looked at you through the mirror, looking at you in utterly disbelief. "I would never lie to you, my love."

Joel then pulled away from you and just smiled, a quiet, affectionate smile, before extending his hand. “C’mon, let’s get outta here before I forget we actually have a reservation.”

The drive to the restaurant was easy, comfortable. The quiet between you was never awkward—just the gentle hum of the engine and the music playing softly on the radio, songs that you both recognized. You didn’t need to fill the silence with anything more.

But when you pulled up outside the restaurant, a new energy seemed to shift. Joel straightened in his seat, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel. It wasn’t just a dinner to him. He had been planning this for awhile, putting in the effort, and you could feel the anticipation coming off of him in waves.

“Ready?” he asked, eyes glinting as he turned to look at you.

“I’m ready,” you said, leaning over and pressing a kiss against his cheek. It wasn’t big or showy—just a quiet, simple gesture—but you saw the way his grin grew in response.

You met his gaze, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest. He didn’t just ask if you were ready for the evening. He was asking if you were ready for the next few hours—just the two of you, away from everything.

He always had a way of making everything else disappear.

“You’re too good lookin’,” Joel said, "You sure you don't want me to start the truck again, head home and have fun in bed instead?" his voice laced with fondness and teasingness.

You gave him a look, "No love, let's go have a lovely dinner, instead of being cooped up at home and eating leftovers."

He held your hand as soon as you both climbed out of the truck, keeping you close to him as you made your way toward the restaurant. There was a quiet protectiveness in the way he kept his hand around yours, like he didn’t want to let go, even for a second.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “You gonna hold my hand the whole night, or what?”

Joel flashed you an exaggerated pout, that teasing look never leaving his face. “What can I say? You’re way too good lookin’ to let go. Gotta keep you close just in case.”

You laughed softly, the warmth of his touch grounding you. You could tell that tonight—tonight, he wasn’t just the guy who looked out for you. He was all in, fully present, and it made your heart beat a little faster than usual.

Dinner passed in a blur of delicious food and even better conversation. Joel was as charming as ever, effortlessly making you laugh with his lovely, dry humor and his little sarcastic remarks. But it wasn’t just the jokes—it was the way he’d lean in a little closer when he spoke, the way his hand brushed against yours under the table, the quiet glances that spoke volumes more than words could.

It was comfortable, easy. The kind of night that made you feel like you were the only two people who mattered in the world.

And then, just as dessert was being served, Joel excused himself to the bathroom. You were left to your own thoughts for a moment, the buzz of the restaurant fading into the background.

That’s when the guy, whom seemed like he was from the bar across the road due to his wobbly footing, was walking up to you, had caught your eye.

Your not in the mood for this. You wanted a lovely dinner with your man, but this guy had to rock up... amazing.

You blinked, taken off guard. “Uh, I’m waiting for someone,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey, beautiful. Can I sit with you?” His voice was too smooth, too confident. He leaned against the edge of your table, his body angled just a little too close.

"I saw you from the bar across the road, thought I might take a chance with a pretty girl like you." He said, eyeing you up and down. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

The guy didn’t move, just smiled, and leaned in a little more. “Oh, come onn, we could share a drink or something. I’m sure the bloke you came with won’t mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, more uncomfortable now. “No, really. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t back off. He just kept smiling like it was all a joke, a game. “You sure? I think you’re missing your chance here pretty, you positive you wouldn't want a drink with lil' ol' me?” This man was gradually becoming more disgusting and annoying by the millisecond.

Your patience was wearing thin, and you didn’t want to make a scene, but his persistence was starting to piss you off. Just as you were about to speak again, you saw Joel coming back from the bathroom.

You felt the relief flood through you, but it was short-lived. Joel’s eyes scanned the room, landing on the guy standing far too close to you. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Everything okay here?” Joel’s voice was low, calm, but you could see the shift in his body, the protective stance he was taking.

The guy hesitated for a moment, his smirk faltering. He clearly hadn’t expected Joel to show up so quickly, and when he saw the way Joel was looking at him—there was no mistaking the intent. Joel wasn’t backing down.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem,” the guy muttered, giving you a final look before retreating.

Joel didn’t take his eyes off the guy until he was out of sight. Then, he turned to you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand.

“You okay? Did he do anything to you darlin'? ” His voice was quieter now, almost apologetic. He was the kind of guy who didn’t like confrontation, but when it came to you? He’d do anything to make sure you felt safe.

You smiled at him, grateful. “Yeah, just didn’t know what to do. Thanks for stepping in hun.”

Joel squeezed your hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. “Ain’t no one gonna mess with you when I’m around, sweetheart.”

After dinner, Joel’s truck rumbled down the quiet road, the noise of the city faded into the background, it was like stepping into another world altogether. The quiet of the woods wrapped around you like a blanket—peaceful, uninterrupted. Just the sound of your breaths and the rustle of leaves in the distance.

The air was cool, carrying the fresh scent of earth and pine, the kind of crisp evening breeze that settled into your bones, making everything feel clean and new. When Joel finally pulled off the main road, heading into a small, secluded patch of woods, you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat a little faster. There was something about the stillness of nature that always made you feel both small and incredibly alive, especially with Joel beside you.

He parked the truck at the edge of a grassy hill, surrounded by nothing but open land and a sky full of stars. It was perfect—just like he’d planned.

You stepped out of the truck, inhaling the cool air deeply, letting it fill your lungs. The night seemed to expand in every direction, endless and vast. You walked a few paces away, and then, for a moment, you simply stopped and tilted your head back. The sky was so clear, so wide, that it took your breath away. The stars shone like diamonds scattered across a velvet canvas, each one brighter and closer than you’d ever seen in the city.

You could see the Milky Way, a faint but beautiful streak across the sky, and the constellations you’d learned about as a kid suddenly seemed more real, more tangible. There was something magical about being here, so far from everything else. The stars felt almost like they were there just for you, like they were a secret shared only between you and the universe.

Joel’s voice broke through your thoughts, warm and close. “You alright?”

You turned toward him and smiled, already knowing he was watching you with that soft, caring expression. The kind that made you feel like you were the only person who mattered in the world to him. "Yeah, just... it’s amazing out here."

You sat down on the blanket, and Joel followed, stretching out beside you. His hand brushed against yours, fingers intertwining, his warmth against your side, a steady presence that grounded you. You both lay back, the sky opening up above you, vast and endless, and for a moment, it was like everything else melted away. The truck, the world, everything. It was just the two of you, the stars, and the cool night air.

Joel chuckled lightly, walking over to you and placing a hand on your back, guiding you to the blanket he’d set out on the grass. “I thought you might like it,” he said, that grin of his tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You did mention it when we first met." You looked at him, smiling slightly. "You remembered it?" You were surprised he remembered something from 3 years ago.

As you settled in, your head found its place against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful calm. Joel’s arm draped casually over your body, his fingers lightly brushing the skin of your arm, as if he wanted to be as close to you as possible without even trying. You could feel the gentle pulse of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was a familiar sound, comforting and safe, and you let yourself sink into it.

“The stars look different out here,” Joel said, his voice a soft rasp in the stillness, like he was marveling at the view for the first time too. "They look...prettier."

You smiled, your eyes tracing the patterns above you. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet, almost in awe. “They’re... more alive. Like you can actually see them, y’know? The way they’re all scattered across the sky, like the universe just decided to let us in on its secret.”

Joel let out a soft hum of agreement, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. “Guess there’s a whole lot more out there than we ever see, huh?”

You nodded, unable to look away from the stars. “It’s... it’s incredible. Sometimes I forget how big the world is, how much of it we don’t even know about.”

For a long time, neither of you spoke. There was something peaceful about that silence, a comfortable kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward but full of understanding. Just the gentle rustle of the grass beneath you, the breeze moving the trees in the distance, and the faint hum of insects.

“I used to come out here a lot,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady, as if the night made you want to share more than you usually did. “When things were rough, I’d just lie on my back and look up at the stars. It always made me feel like... like I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was.”

Joel’s fingers paused in their movement, and you could feel him turn his head toward you, his gaze soft in the darkness. “You were never alone darlin',” he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle, like he wanted to reassure you that you were never carrying the weight of the world by yourself.

You met his gaze, finding the sincerity in his eyes. It made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, but... it’s different now,” you whispered. “I have you. And I’m not just looking at the stars alone anymore.”

Joel smiled at that, a little crooked grin that made your chest feel warm. “Well, we got a hell of a view tonight, don’t we?” He nudged you gently with his elbow, his voice laced with affection.

You laughed softly, leaning closer to him, your fingers brushing his again. “We do. It’s perfect.”

His arm tightened around you slightly, pulling you just a little closer, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Yeah… it’s just right.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper, like he was speaking to you alone, like the night itself was a secret between just the two of you. “Just us. Right here.”

You nestled your head a little deeper into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and the steady, comforting beat of his heart. The stars seemed to shine even brighter when you thought about how far you’d come, how much you’d shared and how much more you still had ahead of you.

For a few moments, you let yourself drift, your eyes closed, breathing in the night air. You didn’t need words. You didn’t need anything more than this—the quiet company of someone who understood you, the peaceful presence of the stars above, and the promise that no matter what, you’d always have this moment to hold on to.

In that moment, it wasn’t just about the stars or the quiet, but about everything that had led up to this. How far you’d come. How much you had, just right here, with him.

- lunar <3

[homestuckreplay]

Seeking Friends (MUST be named John)

(page 1129-1136)

tiny jade tiny jade we got tiny jade!!!! look at them both <3

Unfortunately this is now a Grandpa Harley hate blog. That ridiculous amount of force used to kill a butterfly. (a transgender butterfly at that!!) The unnecessary show of power and dominance. And for what? To show a small child that destruction of life is his idea of fun? No wonder Jade has such a refusal to hurt animals – I feel like she’s associated with life and growth while Grandpa is associated with death and destruction. Like on the one hand, having to handle her grandpa’s death at a young age and being the only one around to clean up and stuff the body must have been incredibly traumatic for Jade, and being alone ever since can’t have helped. But I don’t think she’d be doing much better if he’d lived! This is not a tragic situation where Jade almost had a good guardian! In fact, Jade regularly acting like her grandpa is still alive could come from him being SO omnipresent and overbearing while she was alive that she never really spent any time without him, until he was entirely gone.

Although I’d say Bec is already acting like Jade’s actual guardian, as he’s clearly the one taking care of her while Grandpa is destroying the beautiful landscape with his inappropriately large firearms.

We still have all scenes occurring on a beta kid birthday, but there’s no year on this one. What does Grandpa Harley think is the right age to introduce Jade to the thrill of the hunt? Probably way too young, but Jade can already read well as she has no trouble with John’s note, so I’m gonna say this is her 6th birthday. December 1, 2001.

Unfortunately you cannot open it yet! This package has an important journey to make first. You are planning on delivering it momentarily. Good thing you already know what's inside. Otherwise you would surely be consumed by curiosity and suspense. You sincerely pity anyone who might be forced to endure such a fate. (p.998)

The reveal of Jade’s package is really cute. I think the above quote is intentionally hinting that Jade knows what’s in the package through the power of Prophecy and Visions, but it’s actually the more mundane (kind of?) reason – she already opened the gift years ago! And inside we get the fabled ‘dear jade,’ page, completing the set, plus a note that contains SO much beta kid lore that I’m so excited about.

Jade wears blue and takes up gardening because she receives this package, creating a stable time loop around these interests. This Blue Slime Ghost shirt could be the first shirt used to make the wardrobifier, as young Jade is wearing a plain shirt.

We don’t know when Jade started seeing dream visions, but from her reaction to John’s letter, there’s no indication that she thinks about things in the weird past/future, seeing herself as an agent of the timeline way that she thinks in 2009. I would bet that this is the beginning of her relationship with predestination. I also think this might have caused her to wake up on Prospit, as she’s been contacted directly by the future, and this makes her more open to temporal communication

John thought he was going to be so late with Jade’s present when he remembered how far away she lives, but he actually got it there incredibly early, so huge W for John. (and an even bigger W for the heroic mail carrier PM). Jade’s response was ‘john thats ok really! im sure will get to me exactly when it needs to and it will be a nice surprise when it does!’ and she was right. The gift was definitely a nice surprise, as tiny Jade had no clue it was coming, and if it prompted Jade’s interest in gardening and potentially her visions – a key source of guidance for her especially after she loses her grandpa – then it did happen at exactly the right time. I like the idea that all of Jade’s weirdness was prompted by the seemingly most normal character.

John has NO supernatural awareness in this letter, and is totally stumped as to why Jade’s pumpkins are disappearing – but he’s listened to her when she’s talked about her gardening woes, and his ‘i'm sure you know the fun is in growing them and taking care of them until they're ready’ is a good read; it feels like something Jade herself would say. And John gives Jade a shirt that not only matches his, but is ‘way more awesome’, so he’s really putting her first. There is something about John’s gift to Jade that feels somehow lesser than his honestly inspired gifts to Rose or Dave – it ended up being really impactful, but wouldn’t have been if she had received it in 2008, where it would’ve just related to her existing interests. But I understand that, because sometimes when someone is THAT important to you, it’s impossible to represent that with a physical gift.

John also went to a store, and to the post office! I feel very vindicated because I find the idea that John does leave the house and interact with other people but still feels alone, alienated and ‘homestuck’ way more compelling than the idea that he’s literally never left the house and yard or spoken to anyone outside his family. Similarly, he signs all the notes to his friends with ‘(john)’, so he wasn’t literally named on his 13th birthday - ‘it is only today he will be given a name’ is more a statement about independence and coming into his own. I like this official confirmation that some of the video game aspects aren’t meant to be taken literally, and I think it opens up more angles for interpretation in future.

Finally, we learn that John met Rose and Dave through Jade! So either Jade was the common link that met all three of them individually, and then brought the group together, or John and Jade were friends and Rose and Dave were friends, and Jade united the pairs. I think the first is more likely, as having received this letter, Jade will be on the lookout for friends named John, Rose and Dave, and may get hints to her meeting them when she starts seeing visions on Prospit. As usual (but also for the first time), she will have a head start while everyone else is oblivious.

As if the Package storyline wrapping up wasn’t proof enough, the adventure map shows that we really are at the end of act 3. I cannot wait to see how the act ends and where the story will go in act 4.

> Jade: Tie giant shirt around yourself like a wizard’s cape.

[httpvomitello]

Could I request a Fred Weasley x reader where after the battle of Hogwarts she gets a bit overprotective after almost losing him?

also happy new year

Hello, hello! I hope you like it and happy new year a little late, hehe. ♡

After the Battle *⁠.⁠✧

fred weasley x f!reader

The war had left a mark on everyone, but for you, it felt like it had shredded the fabric of your world. When the Battle of Hogwarts had ended, you found yourself clinging to the people you loved most, terrified of losing them again. Fred was among those you clung to the hardest. The thought of him in danger was something your heart simply couldn’t bear.

It wasn’t just the battle that had torn you apart; it was the aftermath. Fred was alive, yes. But the scars—emotional ones—ran deep. You couldn’t help but remember the way his body had felt in your arms that day in the Great Hall, cold and lifeless, how the world had almost stopped turning. How you had almost lost him. That image never left you.

And now, every time he walked out the door, a wave of panic surged through you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you might never see him again. You’d never admit it to him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from fearing the worst. He was your world, and you couldn’t stand the idea of it falling apart again.

It had started small at first. Just little things. The way your stomach tightened when Fred went out with George. The quiet anxiety that bubbled up every time he left the room. You tried to hide it, tried to pretend everything was fine. But it wasn’t.

“Y/N, I’m just going to the shop with George. I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t worry about me,” Fred said one afternoon, his voice light and carefree as he grabbed his coat.

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Do you have to go now?” Your voice came out too shaky for comfort, but you tried to cover it with a nonchalant shrug.

Fred frowned, his brow furrowing as he turned to face you. “You’re acting a little strange lately. What’s going on?”

You felt the weight of his gaze on you. He wasn’t dumb—he could tell something was off. But you didn’t know how to explain. How could you tell him that every time he left, you felt like your heart would shatter into pieces? That you were terrified of losing him, just like you almost did before?

“It’s nothing, Fred,” you said, your voice too soft, too quick. You could feel your heart racing in your chest.

Fred crossed his arms, not buying it for a second. “It’s clearly not nothing. You’ve been like this for weeks now. What’s going on, Y/N?”

You could feel the panic rising. Your breath quickened, your hands trembled slightly. You didn’t want to burden him with your fears, but you also couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. “I’m just scared,” you blurted out, unable to keep it inside.

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Scared? Of what?”

“Of losing you,” you whispered, looking down at the floor, not able to meet his eyes. “I almost lost you, Fred. I can’t—I can’t go through that again.”

The silence between you both felt suffocating. Fred stepped closer, his voice suddenly sharp with frustration. “You can’t keep this up, Y/N. You can’t keep holding me like this, like I’m some fragile thing you can’t let out of your sight.”

You flinched at his tone, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. “I’m just trying to protect you,” you said, your voice small, almost apologetic.

Fred’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something else. But then he sighed, exasperated. “You’re smothering me, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that.”

His words felt like a slap, even though you knew they weren’t meant to hurt. But in your heart, the fear was still there, gnawing at you. “I know,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “But I... I can’t help it. Every time you leave, I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”

Fred ran a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. “This isn’t healthy,” he muttered, his voice softer now but tinged with anger. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re still treating me like I’m dead.”

His words hit you like a brick. You winced, feeling the weight of them, the sting of the truth in what he said. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I don’t mean to. I just... I can’t stop thinking about that moment. When I thought I lost you. And it’s like I’m... I’m still living in that moment.”

Fred’s expression softened, but there was still a tension in his shoulders. He stepped closer to you, taking your hands gently in his. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. But you can’t keep doing this. You have to let go of the fear. I know it’s hard, but you’re pushing me away with it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. “I don’t want to push you away,” you whispered. “I just... I don’t know how to stop being scared.”

Fred gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “You’re dealing with trauma, my love. And it’s okay to be scared. But you have to remember that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch, letting his warmth ground you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again. “I’m sorry I’ve been... so hard on you.”

Fred shook his head, his voice soft. “You don’t need to apologize. I get it, okay? I’m just as scared as you are. But we have to do this together. You don’t have to face it alone.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his, letting the tears fall freely now. Fred wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight, not saying anything more but letting the silence speak for itself. The fear, the trauma—it was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but with Fred’s arms around you, you felt just a little bit safer.

You weren’t okay yet. You weren’t healed. But you weren’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.