#and maybe he's the only one who's allowed to have it

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Apollo and Hermes X Child! Reader X Dark Platonic Father Horus

You were flying in the sky cheerfully, disobeying your father, Horus' words as he wanted you to stay at the temple while he had a meeting with his fellow deities.

And you weren't allowed to attend because you are a child, but you didn't mind as it gave you a sniff of freedom from your father's overprotective behaviour.

You enjoy the feeling of moving through clouds, the wings on your back and head helping you ease your way through the sky.

Yet your enjoyment of freedom is cut short when you are grabbed by the back of your wings.

Letting out a squeal, you turn around to be met with the sight of a stranger who is wearing winged sandals and a winged helmet.

"Well, look what we have here brother, a fledging."

Another stranger with flowing golden hair rode on a golden chariot led by fiery horses.

"Did our father bed another mortal?"

Apollo mocks while you try to flee the hold of his half-brother, but his grasp on your wings makes you whimper in discomfort.

Also, you don't know what the two gods are talking about because you don't understand their language.

"Hera would have killed her long ago, maybe we should just bring her with us to Olympus."

Hermes suggests, looking at you mischievously.

"She’s got Horus’ eyes," Apollo remarks, his voice dripping with amusement.

"But those wings… those are something else, do you think she’s even aware of what she is?"

Hermes chuckles in a taunting manner.

"Doubtful. Look at her; she’s just a naive child; she doesn't seem to understand us."

Apollo looks at Hermes, noticing his greedy expression.

The same expression he has on whenever he is thinking about stealing something.

"You know, we could just take the child with us home?" Apollo points out.

Both brothers have toxic traits.

Apollo with his possessive attitude.

And Hermes with his thievery corruption.

When Hermes begins dragging you with Apollo, you decide to finally take it.

A loud chirping wail escapes your human lips.

Apollo winces at the shrillness.

"By the Fates, that sound-"

Hermes, however, only grins wider.

"Interesting, there's power in her voice." He chuckles, shaking his head.

"What a delightful find."

Summoning every ounce of the divine strength coursing through your veins, you flare your wings wide, twisting sharply in Hermes’ grasp.

The sudden movement forces him to loosen his hold, giving you just enough room to snap your teeth at his hand.

Hermes yelps, jerking back.

"She bit me!"

Apollo bursts into laughter.

"You got bested by a child? That's rich!"

Using their distraction, you escape.

Your wings catch the wind, sending you flying downward through the clouds, your heart beating in your ears.

You don’t know where you are, but you know one thing, and that is you need to go back home.

But the gods are not so easily escaped.

"You're fast, little bird, but not fast enough!"

Hermes' voice rings out behind you, and a flicker of movement warns you that he is already on your tail.

You push your wings harder, but even as you move through the endless sky, a new presence makes itself known.

A shadow passes over you.

A large, looming figure...a familiar figure.

The skies tremble as Horus descends.

You fly towards him with tears in your eyes, before hugging him as he covers most of your body with his large left wing.

Horus' heterochromatic eyes glares at the two greek gods.

"We are going to die?" Apollo asks.

"We are going to die" Hermes confirms.

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe being all stressed at work and all he wants is come pick his sweet girl from her girl brunch and go home and cuddle? (Love ur work and than u baby)

this is so cute :< i can see it so clearly

first req yippee thank u my love <3

cw: it’s sickly sweet fluff, maybe a tad suggestive, reader described as shorter than rafe, use of “princess” “angel” “wife”, some manhandling

rafe had a headache, what from? it was unclear, maybe dealing with stakeholders and being in meetings all day or just simply having to come in on a day which would be a day off for anyone else. the joys of being a ceo. he couldn’t even think straight at a certain point, telling his father’s assistant, now his, to push all his meetings to monday. the overseas partners be damned, he needed to see his girl. you were the only one who could make him feel better, the only one allowed to see how much it was getting to him

he called you on his way out, you felt the phone ring in your purse, resting next to your lap on the booth you and your friends were piled into. brunch was starting to become a tradition after rafe kept going into the office on saturday mornings, you hated how empty the house felt so instead you hung out with your friends. you didn’t expect him to be free till 12 pm but now he was calling. your friends groaned as you hopped out of the booth, skipping slightly to answer the phone. “so whipped.” kie resounded behind your back and you wouldn’t even refute it.

your voice was sickeningly sweet when you answered, knowing your rafe was probably stressed or tired and was taking his few minutes between meetings to call you. “hi baby.”

“hey princess, you still out?” his voice sounded strained, you frowned at the tone, you could tell he was tired.

“uh huh, everything okay rafey?” he sighs at your words, you’re so endlessly adoring and doting, he should just wife you up. a big diamond ring would look so nice on your fingers, you’d be mrs. rafe cameron, god he wished you were next to him.

“‘missed you, can i pick you up angel?” you perked up at his words, already moving back to your table so you could pick up your bag.

“you’re off work?” there was a slight waver in your voice, you didn’t want him to go back after what you assumed was a short hour break.

“i’m taking it off, just wanna lie in bed with you.” that was all you needed to hear, telling him you’ll text him your location and hanging up with a sweet, “see you soon rafe.”

your friends groaned as you informed them you’d be leaving early, telling them you’d venmo them the split. the next ten minutes felt like hours as you anxiously awaited your boyfriend’s arrival. when he was finally outside you practically ran out of the restaurant, your friends giggling at you.

rafe was waiting outside his car door, watching you walk over, you looked so pretty in the morning all warm and cuddled up in bed. now you were in a sundress and sandals looking like a dream, you giggled when he looked you up and down with zero subtlety, skipping into his arms. he caught your weight, huffing a laugh at the impact. “pretty.” he murmured into your ear and you pressed a kiss to his collarbone, not quite reaching his face even in your heels. it was strange how his headache had vanished as soon as you were in his arms, was it your scent, your touch, your pretty voice? he didn’t know and he didn’t care, all he needed to know was that you fixed everything. he really needed to hack into your pinterest somehow and look at the wedding board he just knew you had.

you made it home pretty quickly, rafe ditched his dress shirt and pants, you kicked off your sandals, took of your bra, and practically jumped into bed. his arms wrapped around you, hating how distant you were on the other side of the bed, and pulled you against him. you turned in his hold, looking at your beautiful boyfriend, pressing your hand to his face, there was still a furrow to his brow. “you okay rafey?”

“i am now.” he kissed the palm of your hand tugging you closer if it was even possible. you were squished against him and even still it wasn’t enough, unsatisfied, rafe turned onto his back pulling your body to lay flat on his. you gasped at the action, bringing your hands to rest on either side of his head against the mattress. “that’s better.” the weight of you on top of him was comforting, now he could feel all of you without worry that you’d move out of his grasp. rafe didn’t know why he felt so erratic but he felt in control, he had you and you weren’t going anywhere. you watched him relax, propping your chin onto his chest just so you could look up at him. his eyelashes fluttered closed as you stroked his cheek, the soothing motion of your fingers lulling him to sleep, it wasn’t long after that you fell asleep with your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat. when you woke up you felt hot and sweaty, sighing at the clammy feeling of rafe’s arms circling your back. he was holding you against him as if you would go anywhere. you tried wiggling out of his hold but were unsuccessful, waking him in the process

“baby stop moving,” his gravelly voice halted your ministrations and you huffed against his chest, both annoyed and impressed by how firm his pecs were.

“rafe we can’t sleep all day, we’ll be up all night.” you murmured, he hummed at your words, a deep rumble that shook you against him.

“that was my plan anyways.” you groaned at his teasing words, belatedly realizing you shouldn’t have said that in the first place.

“at least let me-” you squirmed in his hold again, this time he let you move and you lay by his side instead, his arms still loosely around you. “hey big boy, i’m not going anywhere, ease up.” you teased, poking his biceps as he kept them around you. the nickname was enough for him to be momentarily stunned, easing his grip and you giggled at his reaction. sea blue eyes widened at your words and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. a groaned slipped past his lips, opting to instead stuff his head between your breasts so he could at least be close to you this way. you giggled at his actions, watching how he scooted down the length of the bed so his head could rest against you. you scraped your nails against his scalp, hands naturally finding their way back to him. rafe sighed into you, so grateful he could lie on his favorite pillows, hear your quickening heartbeat, smell your perfume and distinct scent. he’d bottle it up if he could. you let him rest there a while longer, massaging the taunt muscles of his back and shoulders.

rafe would much rather spend every day like this with you, cuddled up and limbs tangled so thoroughly he doesn’t know where he ends and you begin.

since im a demon and evil i was having alternative thoughts like what if rafe came home and just wanted to smoke a blunt and do other things or what if he just needs to take his stress out in other ways okay goodbye this way too long already i just loved the prompt sm!

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

I keep rereading "This is me trying" and I have a questions.

Did the Family set the dinner up as a test? At least, once Reader was late getting to the dinner. They had assumed she would run, not fight, and then they'd have an excuse to get rid of her permanently.

Or, on the other hand, the one time Reader isn't watching over the maid kitchen is the time the Family gets attacked? Perhaps Reader was, accidentally, guarding the one entrance no one expected. Maybe even the one entrance that was guarded? But the Family doesn't believe in coincidence. So they put together 'evidence' of Reader protecting them. (Reader asking why a maid was being shady. Closing the door when one purposely left it open. Or any other thing that Reader views as common sense that the Bat Family sees as directly protecting them, especially if outside cameras of the same timestamps show mobilized groups.)

(Hell, maybe the maids waited until Reader was obviously not showing up because they like her?)

I also am wondering if Bruce immediately tried to change Reader's school, or if he forgets he never enrolled her in Gotham Academy?

It'd be kinda funny for Duke or Damian's to search their school for Reader, only to realize she was never there. They just thought she had been good at hiding for years. The two question it, but don't say anything to Bruc. And then they see her as the captain of the cheer team of a rival school they're going against. Gotham Academy loses to Gotham Public and everyone goes wild.

But Duke and Damian, and anyone of the Family that came to watch with them, notice how the Football team acts towards Reader. When they try to confront Reader about it, Reader laughs at them.

Or maybe, when Bruce does try to enroll them and give Reader the Wayne name, and the Reader gets told, she rushes to get re-enrolled in her school? She scrubs the Wayne off her name and goes on like usual. Which gets her dragged in front of Bruce by Tim.

When confronted, Reader tells Bruce, "You said I earned the name Wayne. Because I showed loyalty and a willingness to protect you at all costs to myself. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Why would I want the Wayne name?"

"Excuse you?" Tim interjects incredulously.

"None of you have ever shown loyalty towards me. I haven't even been living in the Manor. Most of my stuff has been moved out since I was 11. I only come back because I hoped that I could have a family in any of you. I hate coming back. I hate staying here. I rarely ever do, unless I'm called back by Alfred for one of your parties that I'm not even allowed to show my face at. It's the one time that I don't 'sit guard' in the maid's kitchen that all of you got attacked. I could have left you to yourselves. I was tempted."

"So." Bruce leaned back in his chair, fingers digging into the arms of his seat. "Why didn't you?"

"Because, I didn't want you to die. I may not trust you. But I am loyal to you, even if it's only to the extent of caring whether you live or die. Something you've never directed towards me. Why would I take the Wayne name when you've never done anything to win my loyalty? You already know I'm loyal. But I'm not loyal to you the way I could be if I considered you family."

"You'd kill for us. You'd sacrifice your life and die for us. But you do not consider us family?"

"I didn't come to your gala to begin with because I was with people I consider family. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, after all. The bonds I've forged with others will always be stronger than the ones I carry out of obligation. I'm not even on your insurance. I've been getting medical care from back alley clinics or through the people who decided I was worth caring about. For now, I'm an easily disposable tool to you. As a tool, I don't want your name. It'll only cause more issues."

"Issues? What issues could you possibly have being called a Wayne?" Tim cut in again.

"A lone and very disposable Wayne, with no support system, no underlings, no money, and very little power. One would think this is you trying to get me killed or trafficked. A mutt in a den of wolves."

"Alone and disposable. That's quiet the statement, (Y/N). What makes you think that?"

"Years of me being loyal. Of trying my best. Of desperation to simply be looked at as more than a burden or the daughter of a whore, as you all love to call my mother. You have shown, time and again, that I am not worth any amount of loyalty. Why should I trust you? I know you don't you trust me. You only trust I'd die for you. Kill for you. Why would I live for you? You have never earned it."

And goes to walk out like a badass. Only to pause at the door, as Bruce and Tim are staring at her in stunned silence. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N). And until you can earn more than my loyalty, I refuse to bear yours."

Reader's face breaks from being just as stone cold as Bruce's, revealing a soft smile.

"When I first came to the Manor, I wanted to be a Wayne. Not for money or power. But because I loved my father, on the principle that that was what he was. My father. When I finally realized you'd never see me as a daughter, I stopped seeing you as anything more than a sperm donor. Earn being my father, or stop pretending you want me to have your name."

Ho is you a mind reader?

No they definitely didn't do it as a test, Bruce would never willingly put himself in a position where he's vulnerable and have his family 'rely' on Reader, even if it's just a test.

Ok so, for the maid thing, ur on the right track!! I don't wanna spoil too much so i'm not gonna say anything!!!!

Also Bruce kinda just forgot about reader going to school period, and you're so right about the WHOLE school thing!! it's like you took it right out my drafts LMAO!!!

You predicted a lot of future chapter plot points ngl but with the whole Bruce and Reader confrontation, you wrote it really good but thats more IBLD reader vibes! This reader is more scared of Bruce, she won't outright challenge or disobey him, she knows better. This version of Batfamily is darker and crueler than IBLD bc they're not heroes. Also, reader is 15, she's not gonna talk to the Godfather of the American mob like that, father or not! This was beautifully written though!! Thank you so much ily <3333

[redbird-tf]

Wild dog

dean x little sister

synopsis; A vampire hunt goes horribly wrong, leaving you injured in more ways the one, by the person you'd least expect.

inspired by

Word count; 2.6k (officially my longest story, please dont let it flop)

Warning: hurt/comfort, injury, john, violence, language

No no no, this couldnt be happening. You all knew taking on a vampire nest was a dangerous mission, but this mistake should have never happened. Now, here you lay on the cold, hay-covered floor of an old barn. Pain pulses through your body, your mind teetering on the edge of consciousness, and Dean looming over you.

The barn was crawling with those nasty blood-sucking monsters—20, maybe more. You three had been tracking them for weeks and prepared well. Hiding in the bushes, you waited until the nest was deep in slumber before making your move. You had to move quietly. Killing as many in their sleep as possible until one awoke. Its shrill scream shattered the silence, jolting the rest of the nest awake. "Split!" Dean's voice rang out, and in an instant, you all scattered.

Dean skidded to a stop as he faced a dead end. His grip tightened around the machete, turning to face the vamps closing in. “come get it you sick son of a bitch” he growled. He swung in every direction, blood soaking his clothes. When Dean got like this he turned into a killing machine. No thoughts just, swing-hit-kill, swing-hit-kill. A vamp hurled down at him from the ceiling, yet without flinching Dean grabbed it by the throat slamming it against the wall behind him and slicing its head clean off. Only when the head rolled past his feet did he take a breath and allow his shoulder to slump.

The sound of fast footsteps made him whirl around, swinging his machete wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's face, sending it crashing to the ground. “Dean stop!” Sams horrified voice rang pulling Dean from his soilder like state. Deans eyes widened in shock and the machete slipped from his hand. “Oh my god” his voice broke. It was you. You who was running up on him. You who’s side he sliced into. It was you who lay in front of him now.

Dean collapsed to his knees, and his hands came up to cradle your face “Sweetheart, sweetheart can you hear me” he begged with desperation. You let out a painful groan, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. Sam lifted your shirt, inspecting the cut that was pouring blood. His concerned gaze met Dean, “What?” Dean demanded, panic rising in his chest. “We can’t stitch this dean, we need to take her to the hospital now” Sam replied with quick urgency. He pushed Dean aside, scooping you into his arms. You let out another agonizing moan. “Sorry bug” Sam whispered. “And say what?” Dean frantically snapped while darting toward the car. “I don't know Dean, let's worry about that when our sisters insides aren’t visible!” Sam shouted in frustration.

————-

When they reached the hospital, Dean shouted for help, and within seconds doctors surrounded them, lifting your limp body from Sam's arms and onto a bed. Deans eyes never left you as you were wheeled away, only breaking when pushed past white doors. It was then the adrenaline wore off and guilt flooded his body. He stood frozen, Sam’s voice was mumbled trying to convince the nurse it had been a bear or something.

“Sir, sir, SIR” Dean's trance was broken by the nurse's voice. “Does your hand feel alright?” She asked kindly. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion, then looked down at his fist. His knuckles were bruised and the image of his fist connecting with your face made his lip quiver.

Dean and Sam sat in the silence of the waiting room. Dean's head hung low, his thumb rubbing over his bandaged hand. Sams head jerked up at the sound of heavy footsteps, “what the hell” he muttered. Deans eyes widened at the sight of John. They both quickly stood from their seat “Dad what are you-“Sam was cut off. “What the hell happened?” John asked sternly, gazing between the brothers. There was a tense pause before Dean spoke up “It was me… she ran up from behind me. i should have been more careful…” Dean spoke quietly, half to keep the nurses from hearing and half because he couldn’t raise his voice without the risk of breaking down. John sighed heavily “How many goddamn times have i told her not to do that-“John started “It's not her fault” Dean quickly rebutted. John opened his mouth but fell silent at the sight of a nurse approaching. “How is she?” John asked, his body tensed, bracing for the worst. “Shell be alright” the boys shoulders dropped. “Shell have to take it easy for a few months to prevent tearing stitches….” The nurse paused, hesitating to continue “Her injury was very severe, it's a miracle she's still alive” The room fell silent again. “Can we see her?” Sam asked in an urgent tone.

The three of them hurried to your room. Sam and John rushed to your bedside, except for Dean who stood frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly gain consciousness.” what happened?” You asked groggily. Sam spoke softly to you but the Anastasia still weighed heavy, making it hard to understand his words. A shiver ran through your body and your head cocked to the side catching a glimpse of Dean. Dean jumped out of sight, pressing his back against the wall. He swallowed sharply, his heart hammering in his chest. “De…” he heard you call. “Dean” again, and again. A moment later John stepped out, “she's cold. She wants a jacket” he stated firmly. Without a word, Dean shrugged off his jacket and pushed it into John's hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later” he ordered. “Yes sir,” Dean said lowly, his hand dragged down his face, then he turned his heel.

—————-

“What do you remember?” Sam asked, sitting at the edge of your bed. You thought for a moment, your mind capturing bits and pieces. A look of shock came over your face. “I was running to Dean and then…” Your breath hitched and your hand clutched your side “he didn't mean to” you whispered with turned-up brows. Sams brows furrowed in contrast “Of course he didn’t” he reassured you, placing his hand over yours. “Here you go kid” John stepped forward, passing Dean's jacket to you. “Where's Dean?” You asked. “Let's get going before the cops get here” John continued ignoring your question. “He didn't mean to Dad! It's my fault” you blurted out. Johns's gaze sharpened “you were reckless. and he acted like a goddamn wild dog. This is on both of you, i hope you've learned something. Now come on” he snapped coldly, turning his back.

——

The drive back to the motel in John's truck was silent with unbearable tension. When John pulled into the lot you noticed Dean's impala was nowhere in sight. “I'll check into another room. You two go to bed,” John said gruffly, pointing between you and Sam before walking off. Sam carried the bags into the room as you limped in behind him. “Where Dean?” You asked, turning to Sam with a confused look. “He’s probably just grabbing a drink” he explained, while unpacking his bag. “Can we call him, just to make sure” you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, “let's just give him some space right now,” Sam spoke quietly, giving you sympathetic eyes.

You had been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to sleep thanks to the pain meds wearing off. You stared at the ceiling until the glow of headlights flickered into the room. You listened closely to the squeak of brakes, followed by the jingles of keys. You quickly closed your eyes pretending to sleep. Footsteps crept their way into the room, then faded back out. You peeked around the room, seeing nothing changed. Slowly you sat up, cradling your side as you pushed yourself from the bed. Grabbing Dean's jacket from the nightstand, you tiptoed to the door making sure not to wake Sammy while you slipped out.

The wind bit at your cheeks. You quickly draped the jacket over your shoulders, pulling it tight. The Impala was parked in front of you, but no still dean in sight. Your eyes scanned the lot. It wasn't until you squinted your eyes that you spotted a figure in the distance, sitting on a bench, beneath a large oak tree. After a few minutes of limping, and grunting, you finally reached the bench. Dean swung around at the sound. “I got your jacket…” you said awkwardly. “Keep it,” he muttered after giving you a once over and taking a sip of his drink. You slowly took a seat next to him. The rustle of the tree blowing in the wind surrounding you two. “I shouldn’t have run up on you-“ you tried to reason “It's not your fault” Dean cut you off, his voice firm, eyes locked on the ground. “You've told me over and over again not to “ “so i should have known. I shouldn’t have looked before…” his voice strained.

Another silence settled. “I don't blame you Dean” you stated softly. “Well, i do.” He replied sharply, taking another swing of his drink. You watched him for a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. “You know when we were younger, I'd come home from school and Dad would be gone, but you'd be there.” You kept your voice steady. “Then Sam left, and i was sure you would to…but you never did. You've always been there for me Dean” you spoke softly. You saw his grip tighten around the bottle. “You know what hurt most of all” your voice barely a whisper. “when i called for you from the bed…and you didn't come” Your voice wavered before you could stop it and you bit down on your lip. Deans body stiffened. For the first time that night, he looked you in the eyes. His green eyes were a storm of emotions. “I'm sorry, kid” his voice painfully sincere. He lifted his hand to cradle the side of your face, his thumb smoothing over the bruise beneath your eye. “Dean i know you won't forgive yourself, but can you make me a promise” Your voice shook terribly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Dean nodded immediately. “promise you'll always come when i call you” you pleaded. Dean's face cringed realizing the pain he caused you, some worse than the physical. “I promise, baby” His voice was firm, unwavering. A gust of wind cut through the air causing you both to shiver violently. “We should go in now” Dean suggested to which you quickly nodded, earning a soft chuckle from him.

As You both stood up, a sharp pain radiated down your side, stopping you in your tracks. Dean turned to you in an instant, hearing you wince. “what's wrong?” He asked concerned. “My side” you breathed out, clutching at your ribs while bent over. Dean crouched down in front of you “How about i give you a ride” Dean recommended. You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to slowly lift you off the ground. His warmth engulfed you. Your eyes grew heavy, sleep pulling you in as you rested against him. until his voice pulled you back. “You know I'll always protect you too. Even if that means from me sometimes” he said quietly, but his voice laced with a sense of seriousness. You pressed your face into his shoulder, letting yourself relax again before softly murmuring.

“Dean Winchester, my own wild dog”

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they’re jealous?

This is Savanaclaw and Octovinelle's section- Link to Heartslabyul. All characters are meant to be interpreted as romantic. The reader is gender-neutral. There may be mild spoilers as to who overblots and other facts. Some of them might have Yandere tendencies, though nothing graphic or descriptive and always very mild, they’ll be marked with a ‘Y’ if they do. Mainly because sometimes the boys are calm and talk through their feelings… And sometimes they go down possessive insecurity-included spirals. If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave a reblog or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants. 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

Leona gets jealous easily, but won’t often do anything about it. You’re his herbivore and you know it, don’t you? Just get back over here, and ignore them. 

But then one day you come home smelling like some dog. Maybe a member of his dorm? But he doesn’t care who. You smell like another man, Herbivore. What do you think you’re doing, huh? You have someone else all on you. 

Leona’ll give you his coat as soon as he sees you. Expect an arm around the waist and him not letting you go until you’ve both napped for a while. Seven help you if he wakes up and you still smell like some other guy. 

Herbivore, what kind of game are you playing? What, is he second place again? You’re just gonna leave him and go off to some mutt? Those pooches don’t deserve you. Do you think he doesn’t deserve you? Do you think someone else could do it better? Did you finally realize he doesn’t deserve you? 

How dare you. How dare you push him aside, like everyone else always has. Fine, then leave. Go ahead. If he’s only your second priority, just get out. Why are you even still here? He’s just a second prince who destroys everything he touches. Why are you still here? Are you really going to stay? Fine. You’re allowed to stay, but only for a bit. Get out within a couple of hours. But while you’re here, you better not leave his side. 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Ruggie’s not visibly jealous easily- He’s used to having to share things, not that he likes it- But it’s pretty obvious if you know his tells. With his ears down, tail slightly between his legs, and almost frantic laughter.  

Oh, so you’re eating out with Ace and Duece now? But what about your old pal Ruggie? Doesn’t he deserve to get some “love,” too? Come on, Prefect! Just let him tag along, just for a little while! 

He promises he’ll pay you back somehow. Yeah, he doesn’t have money, but here’s a little bite of his food. Isn’t that just great? Isn’t that good enough? Isn’t that okay? What’s wrong, huh? Is he not good enough? 

Dontcha want to come over here and pet his ears and tail? He’ll let you. Come on, Jack’s fluffier, but Ruggie’s got- He’s got- Well, he’s gonna let you do it for longer. Besides, don’t you owe him? He gave you some food. You’ve gotta give him this. Why’s he asking? Isn’t it obvious? He’s justin tryin’ to lull you into givin’ him more in the future because you’re gonna think everything he wants back is sunshine and rainbows and yucky. Don’t go readin’ too much into it, ‘Kay? 

Besides, it’s gonna wash that stench off of you. If you’re petting him all the time, you’ll smell like him. That’ll get rid of all his problems… What, you heard nothing, Prefect. Just go along your merry way, he’ll be right behind you if that’s what you’re asking. 

Jack Howl - 

Jack knows what jealousy is. He knows what it feels like. He’s been jealous of other kids' toys when he was young, he’s been jealous of how much someone else can lift, and he’s been jealous of various other things over the years. What he isn’t prepared for is what it feels like when you’re jealous of someone’s time. When you’re jealous of their smile and their friends and their everything… And it’s not because you want it. It’s because you want them. 

He knows what he’s feeling. But that doesn’t stop him from feeling it all at once. It’s sort of like the world is caving in for that brief second that it’s Sebek who picks you up, Deuce who walks you home, and Leona’s room you stay in. He wants to be your priority- You are his priority- So when he feels like he isn’t and it’s horrible and terrible and he wants to cry for some odd reason… He knows what he’s feeling, but he can’t believe it. 

He’s not controlling. But, he is protective, especially once he’s jealous. He’ll try to win you back, showing off his physical capabilities and trying his best to make you believe that he can take care of you and help you and is definitely so much better than anyone else in your friend group and you should study in his room sometime so he can show you his cacti please just follow him and get away from that guy over there. 

He’s willing to talk it out afterward, especially if you’re dating. After all, this is a relationship he wants to work out, if a little jealousy will break you two there’s no point in it. But if you’re the one who he’s fighting against because you can’t respect a boundary- His is really just that you be mindful of physical affection with other guys- He will hesitate to break up with you… But there’s a chance that if the two of you are unwilling to compromise, it will come to that. He’s loyal, but rightful stubborn about his boundaries and always wants to think through things with his future in mind.

But if you’re willing to hear him out, and listen to his boundaries and needs- Respect goes both ways and now you’ve got yourself a protective guard dog ready to save you from whatever fool decided to try and break his trust in you. 

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

Azul gets jealous easily. He knows he’s inadequate. He knows it so, so well… So why did he let himself think this time would be different? He thought you actually liked him. He thought you loved him, maybe, even, if he was truly, foolishly hoping for it. Like an idiot. Because there you were, across the room, with someone else holding your waist. 

Why did they get to? How come they’re the one that gets to be with you, that gets to be running their fingers down your back and leaning over to whisper something in your ear? How come it can’t be Azul? How come? 

He’s falling apart without you. Even as he takes you away, even as he brings you to the VIP room, even as he gets to be the only one to lay eyes on you for a brief moment, those horrible feelings still drum under his skin, growing stronger the more you claim nothing was wrong. 

Why? Why wasn’t he good enough? Was he not handsome enough? Was he too fat? Was his human form not appealing enough? He can change it. He can edit his form on land. He can make sure he never goes back to being that stupid, chubby, silly octopus he’s sure is the reason you were with the other guy. Please. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. You, maybe. Why wasn’t he enough? 

Even as you hug him and tell him it’s not like that, he can’t bear it. He can’t. He just wants your eyes on him, is that too much to ask? Please, don’t look away. Don’t let someone else touch you like that. Please, just… Please. Don’t let him go. 

Jade Leech - Y 

Oh, there’s a student with you? You’re having dinner with them in the Monstro lounge? You’re all alone with him…? :) 

Very sorry, but could you please step aside for a moment, Prefect? Jade has something he needs to do for a moment. The issue with that boy, if he could even be called that, coming into his territory will soon be resolved. 

What’s his territory? Well, there’s no reason for you to be concerned about it. Just rest a little, he’ll join you in the VIP room soon. You’ll be far away from any other customers… As you should be. You’re far above them. 

Hm? What do you mean? Is Azul conducting a contract there? Oh, silly him, he must have forgotten. That’s quite alright. He knows it’s not like him, but you won’t fault him for one mistake, will you? That would be quite cruel, dear. How cold of you… But maybe how warm, to be so worried over him. Don’t panic at all, he’s merely tired. But thank you for that, it provides some… Validation for him. 

You can just go up to Jade’s bedroom instead! There should be no one up there to disturb you, except for once he’s off shift. Yes, he knows it ends soon, but there’s still always a little bit of work to be done, even if it’s only some additional… Cleanup. And afterward, you can rest with him. You were just worried about him, weren’t you? If you weren’t lying about the fact you care for him, wouldn’t you do it? Come on, Prefect. 

Floyd Leech - Y 

Whenever I do one of these, I start Floyd’s section by saying, “Oh no!” So this time, I’ll switch it up slightly. Uh oh, you’re screwed. 

Whether or not Floyd was in a good mood before this, he’s now in a bad one. Sliding up next to you and asking you who you were talking with, putting an arm around your waist and squeezing you close. He’s not easy to calm down, but given affection and after you clear up any misunderstanding, he’ll just need a clingy shrimpy for a couple of days to match his pouty mood. 

But if it was someone genuinely coming onto you… And he doesn’t see you tear them apart right there… He’ll be the one to do it. He’s not afraid to throw a punch or two. Or more. Or a kick. He needs to protect you, what if he doesn’t? What if some little tiny fishy comes to take his shrimpy away? He’s just protecting you. Just trust him, don’t worry about anything else. 

At the end of the day, he’s an eel, and he’ll stop anyone who gets too close to his territory. Well, that’s what you signed up for, right? Maybe a few acquaintances will end up with some more bites, maybe you’ll end up with some more bites, but you’ll be fine. Probably. 

[cosmosluckycharms]

Showtime☆

Lullaby In Blue

When you finally get to the manor, it's dark out.

You were so sleepy. You just wanted your momma. You just wanted your grandpa.

You assume that when you get home, your father will take you in with open arms and talk as sweetly as your momma said.

Unfortunately for you, unlike how momma described him, he's cold and hard to decipher...

You look up at him in a mix of curiosity and excitement. He looked so cool! he was wearing a fancy outfit and he just looked so cool! The only thing that threw you off was how he looked so.....tired.

"WOAH!! You look so cool! Are you my dad? Momma has said so many good things about you! How about that one time when you-" He cut you off.

"Alfred, show her to her room if you will." he started walking away.

Your heart broke a little at that, but it's okay! You win him over sometime! For now, you need a nap.

Alfred walks you to your room while profusely apologizing about Bruce.

You walk into your room. And it's clear they didn't do much research on you...

The toys were better suited for a kid younger than you, maybe around 4 or 5 years old.

You don't complain though, the room is huge and you have a bigger bed than you can imagine!

You have your bedroom and walk-in closet! Alfred says to sleep and tomorrow they'll sort out the room and make it more for you.

☆◇

The next morning you wake up and decide to unpack a bit.

You didn't have much, just a few clothing items, jewelry from your momma, a few picture frames, and some of momma's old stuff such as paintings and her cassettes of movies.

As soon as you finished unpacking Alfred came to call you down for breakfast.

You go downstairs to see at the table your father, a boy around 23 with black hair, and another boy who looked around 18 years old with also black hair with a white patch.

You introduced yourself to them like your momma taught you.

"Hello!! im Y/N L/N!!! Well, actually I don't know about L/N now because technically he is my dad," you point to Bruce. "I'm kinda hungry," before you could continue with your ramble Alfred shut you up with a plate of pancakes in front of you.

It's clear to everyone but you that 7 in the morning is too early to be this hyper and nonsensical.

"Oo! pancakes! I love pancakes! They're my favorite! My grandpa makes it from scratch-" You pause for a second, a very slight stop that makes your eyes water up a little.

No one could notice it.

Well besides the literal detectives sitting at the table.

You continued rambling for a bit before Alfred mentioned a playground in the backyard, recently designed for you.

"WOAH that's so cool! Can I go play on it? Please?" you made sure to drag the 'e' in 'please', that's how it always worked on momma.

He allowed you to and you quickly got off your chair.

You were about to play outside before realizing you were nowhere near ready to play outside, you still had your PJs on, and your fuzzy socks!

You ran to your room to get ready for the day, which was difficult because momma would always help usually

You were trying not to look sad, you shouldn't be sad. You should be thankful for all the things they're doing for you.

After a couple of hours of playing on the mini playground, you got tired.

You decided to get back inside and eat.

You went inside and saw it was empty. You decided to go into your room and take a nap.

You walked in and realized you forgot to go shopping with Alfred! All the things in your room were baby things, and you only had two other pairs of clothes to wear!

You didn't mind though.

You lay down on the carpet and fell asleep immediately.

It wouldn't hurt to sleep for a while...

You woke up a couple of hours later.

You woke up silently crying, you had a dream about the day you and your momma and grandpa went to a theme park.

You couldn't remember much about the dream, only that you had so much fun.

You don't know why you're crying, you had a great time, did you not?

You didn't understand. This shouldn't be happening.

To calm yourself down, you started humming the lullaby your momma sang to you.

It worked slightly.

You decided to get up and eat, you were hungry and hadn't eaten earlier.

You went downstairs and saw a boy no older than 15 eating a bowl of cereal.

You hadn't met him yet, so you tried to introduce yourself to him!"HELLO! My name is Y/n l/n!!!!! What's your name??"

Unfortunately for you, you caught him at a bad time. He had been working on a case since 7:30 am and this was his break.

"Leave me alone," he said, in a obviously tired tone.

Well, obvious to everyone but you.

You continued asking him questions, only for him to ignore you, grab the bowl of cereal, and walk away to his room.

You looked at him with a confused look on your face.

Your stomach rumbled a bit before you snapped out of it and grabbed yourself a bowl of cereal too.

You ate alone at the table.

The next day while outside in the garden, you saw a boy playing with a dog.

The dog looked so cute! You decided to talk to the boy.

"HELLO!! Im y/n l/n!! it's nice to meet you!!"

You started asking him a lot of questions, like what his name was, what the dog's name was, are you guys were siblings, and more!!

The excitement you had to meet others was overwhelming to some people.

He ended up getting the dog to chase you away.

You ran to your room and stayed there the entire day.

You wanna go home.

You ended up finding out their names at one point or another.

The 23-year-old one was Richard "Dick" Grayson, the 18-year-old one was Jason Todd, the one that shooed you away while eating cereal was Timothy "Tim" Drake, and the boy who got his dog to chase you was Damian Wayne.

You don't understand why they didn't want you, you weren't mean or evil like those villains you saw in the books momma read you, so why did they not want you?

You tried getting into hobbies you didn't care about so you guys could talk about them.

You joined a book club, which you kind of disliked since it was so quiet.

You joined gymnastics, which you were good at and kind of enjoyed, it did help you get your energy out, though!

You tried coding, which you didn't like at all.

You tried art, which you were okay at.

Nothing really stuck!

And it's not like it helped with getting your family to notice you.

It didn't matter to them, they had Gotham to help.

You didn't have actual hobbies or interests for a while.

Not until you were 12.

You had signed up for theater in middle school, and the teacher was nice enough to take you all on a field trip to a play.

It changed your life.

You knew immediately that that's what you wanted to do.

You wanted to spread smiles, just like how this play had spread joy to you and others.

You wanted to perform on stage for others!

You knew this was what you wanted!

As soon as you got home you asked Alfred if for your birthday you could have a stage.

One that was going to be demolished soon due to not bringing in any money.

He decided to think about it.

It was a strange request coming from you.

You never really asked for things like this.

You never really asked for non-neccesities at all!

But he decided to not think about it too hard.

☆◇

feeding my like 2 emu!reader enjoyers lmfao

oml this took so long

guys lowk im so tired

anyways this is ass

taglist:

@shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss

[anotherworldawaitsus]

Crash

Summary: An accident pulls you and Melissa further into each other’s orbit.

Chapter: 3/4

Chapter 3

The meeting passed in a blur. Melissa had a hard time following the agenda. She bounced her knee nervously until Barb laid a gentle hand on her thigh and she stilled. As soon as it was acceptable to leave, Melissa was up like a shot.

“Where are you going now?” Jacob asked. The redhead paused in the doorway, turning to fix him with a glare.

“Who’s askin’?”

“I was just wondering…” Jacob gulped, eyes darting around the table. “Does this have anything to do with a certain school psychologist?”

As soon as he mentioned you, Melissa’s gaze softened.

“Gregory shared that she wasn’t feeling well,” Barbara added. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Not feelin’ well,” Melissa laughed darkly, rocking back on her heels.

“I was trying to respect her privacy,” Gregory explained. “But that’s probably an understatement.”

Barabra’s eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “Why an understatement? What happened?”

Melissa opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, not trusting herself to speak. Gregory chimed in. “Car accident. She’s a little banged up.”

“Someone ran her off the road,” Melissa corrected. “And when I find out who it was, they’re gonna wish they’d never been born.”

Cries of outrage and concern rose up around the table, warming her Sicilian heart. “Has she seen a doctor?” Jacob demanded, already halfway out of his seat.

Melissa held up a hand. “Paramedics treated her at the scene. She has some broken ribs, a bunch of cuts and bruises—“

“And a concussion,” Gregory reminded her. At Melissa’s dumbfounded expression, he muttered, “Am I really the only one that took health class? Her pupils were dilated, she’s got a headache—“

“She’s sensitive to light,” Melissa breathed, awareness dawning on her features. “Oh Jesus, I left her alone in her office, what if she falls asleep?”

“That’s actually a myth,” Gregory supplied. “Sleep is an important part of the healing process after head trauma.”

“Oh, really?” Melissa spat. “Where’d ya get your medical degree, Web MD?”

Barbara walked over quickly and laid a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Hey, is Nurse Donna in today?” Janine asked, redirecting the conversation before Melissa could eviscerate her boyfriend. “Maybe she can stop by and —“

“That’s an excellent idea, Janine,” Barbara said, and the younger teacher beamed. “Check the infirmary. Jacob, why don’t you walk over —“

“Run over,” Melissa interjected.

“—and inform her of the situation.”

Jacob, practically vibrating with nervous energy, sprang from his chair and sprinted out of the room. Barbara squeezed the redhead’s hand, giving her a significant look. “Go. We’ve got this.”

She smiled sheepishly, mumbling a word of thanks. Then she was off again, hurrying back down the long hallway and up the stairs that led to your office. She was kicking herself for not noticing what had been so obvious to Gregory. Melissa had seen your helmet, after all. Just the memory of it made her queasy.

As she chastised herself, the image of your bloody t-shirt flashed in her mind again and she felt a cold spike of fury. Tonight she’d make some calls to her cousin. He had a friend that worked in the DMV. If the cops didn’t find the driver that ran you off the road, she would.

Melissa took a moment to rein in the twin tendrils of rage and vengeance crackling beneath her skin before stepping across the threshold of your office. She was relieved to see that almost everything was exactly as she’d left it. The only difference was that you had changed position, reclining fully on the small sofa. With a terrible stab of fondness, she noticed you had kicked your boots off and your feet (wearing mismatched wool socks) dangled over the edge of the low armrest.

She placed her hands on her hips and looked down at you for a moment, allowing herself to enjoy the sweetness of your face, soft and unguarded in sleep. You looked impossibly young.

The sight was somehow more intimate than seeing you shirtless and vulnerable in the bathroom, more intimate than touching your bare skin with her hands. She had the urge to gather you up in her arms, tuck you into bed, protect you from the fraught, perilous outside world. And it was in this moment, breath hitching in her throat, warmth flooding her chest, that the awful truth finally dawned on Melissa. She had fallen for you. Shit.

As quickly as the realization gripped her, she pushed it away. There would be time to work through these inconvenient emotions later, preferably with a bottle of wine and a few Nicholas Sparks movies (a course of treatment you might have some professional objections to, but hey, Melissa was a creature of habit when it came to heartbreak.)

She crouched down beside you and gave you a gentle shake.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered. “Can you wake up for me?”

Your features remained slack, as if she hadn’t spoken. Melissa frowned, saying your name a few times. You didn’t move. She raised a hand to your face, gently tapping your cheek. Still nothing.

A soft knock interrupted her rising panic. Nurse Donna stood in the doorway, carrying a small medical bag. Her kind face was schooled into a comforting expression as she surveyed the scene, wire rimmed glasses perched on the edge of her nose. Jacob hovered in the background, hands clasped together.

“I heard there was an accident?” Nurse Donna prompted.

The nurse was a fixture at Abbott. Her neat gray bun and no-nonsense demeanor had weathered many a medical emergency over the decades—broken bones, fevers, asthma attacks, allergic reactions. Melissa stood up and cleared her throat roughly, but her voice still cracked when she spoke.

“She ain’t wakin’ up, Donna.”

The older woman nodded calmly, stepping forward and taking control of the situation. She leaned over your prone form on the couch and placed a hand on your forehead, slowly lifting the lid of one eye and then the other, shining a penlight into your pupils. A few tense moments later you recoiled as if from a slap.

“There she is,” Nurse Donna crowed happily, reaching into her bag to retrieve a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff.

Melissa sagged against the edge of your desk, relief spreading like a sweet antidote to the malignant venom of fear. Jacob entered the room and stood beside her. He didn’t say anything, but she appreciated his solid, warm presence flush against her side.

“M’lissa?” you slurred.

“I’m right here,” she answered, peering around the nurse to get in your line of sight.

“Had a funny dream.” Your voice was thick with confusion.

“Has she taken any medication?” Nurse Donna asked, affixing the cuff to your arm.

“Some Tylenol,” Melissa said. She plucked the bottle from the table and deposited it into the nurse’s outstretched hand. Donna gave it a cursory glance before continuing with her ministrations.

“Blood pressure is normal,” she reported. Next she listened to your heartbeat, carefully maneuvering the chest piece around to your shoulders, sternum, and lungs. Finally, she lifted your shirt high enough to inspect your ribs. Jacob gasped softly. Bright red blood had soaked through the gauze in several places. She pulled the bandage back, examining the large abrasions and purple bruises thoughtfully.

“Ouch,” she said.

Reaching back into her bag, she withdrew some antiseptic ointment and gently cleaned the wounds before applying a fresh dressing. Then, giving you one last affectionate pat on the cheek, she stood up and exited your office. Melissa and Jacob followed her out into the hallway.

“She does appear to have a slight concussion,” Donna confirmed. “But that’s not the reason she can’t wake up.”

She raised the bottle of pills and gave it a shake.

“Tylenol PM,” Jacob read, eyes widening.

“Combined with the general stress that tends to accompany blunt force trauma, I’d say these little guys are what’s making her so sluggish.”

Melissa closed her eyes. A calm hand landed on her shoulder.

“An honest mistake,” Nurse Donna soothed. “And, in hindsight, perhaps serendipitous! She needs rest, and I bet she’s not the type who goes down without a fight.”

Jacob laughed, nodding his head and jerking a thumb toward Melissa. “The only person more stubborn is —“

The redhead quirked an eyebrow at him, daring him to finish that sentence, but Jacob seemed to become suddenly fascinated by something on the floor and trailed off. Nurse Donna continued her report.

“My advice? Let her sleep it off. She should be more alert in a few hours. As for the rest of her injuries, there’s no quick fix. Ribs will heal on their own in a month or so. Ice will help the pain, but she won’t be doing any heavy lifting for a while. And she should keep the abrasions clean to avoid infection.”

Jacob looked at the redhead, relief plain on his face. “That’s good news, right?”

Melissa nodded. Though part of her still wanted to march down to the hospital and find the paramedics that had treated you. She had a few questions to ask them—like what the hell were they thinking, releasing you with a concussion? She hoped for their sake she never met them in a dark alleyway.

“I’d recommend someone sit with her, she might be disoriented when she wakes up,” Nurse Donna said. “Other than that, if you have any questions, just give me a ring!”

Then, with another comforting squeeze to Melissa’s shoulder and a little wave, she headed back to the infirmary.

“I can bring anything you need from your classroom,” Jacob offered.

Melissa shot him a grateful look. “Thanks, hon,” she said. “I owe ya.”

For a few hours, Melissa worked quietly at your desk. Every so often she would pause and watch the gentle rise and fall of your chest, but overall it was a blissfully uneventful way to pass the time after such a frantic and frightening start to the day. With every minute, she felt the tight coil of anxiety unwinding in her body. She was making good progress on a stack of ungraded tests, thought she might even get her marking done before lunch.

But then you whimpered.

It was a sound not of confusion or pain but something longing, needy. You shifted on the sofa, and made another breathy, keening noise in the back of your throat. Melissa’s mind went blank. The entire world seemed to shrink to your flushed face, your pink lips parted in a sigh of pleasure.

Melissa felt a flash of guilt for witnessing such a private moment, but it was eclipsed by curiosity—what (and who) were you dreaming about?

She knew that the breakup with your ex at the start of the summer had been messy. That you’d fallen back into bed with each other several times before you finally called it quits. And that since then, you’d spent a few nights with different people. It was these casual, faceless hookups that drove Melissa to distraction. Were you picturing some fast fuck in a dive bar bathroom? Reliving a night in a stranger’s apartment, being spread open by some other woman’s hands? The thought made her head foggy with lust, with outrage, with jealousy.

And then you clearly said one word.

“Melissaaaaaaa,” you whined softly.

The lead point of the pencil in her hand snapped, rolling away uselessly across the page she’d been marking. She looked down briefly, then back up to your supine form on the sofa. Your eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” Melissa said, her voice hoarse. “Good dream?”

“You should know.” You licked your lips. “You were there.”

The confession was laced with none of your usual playful swagger. You were seized by the surreal sleepy clarity of desire, your entire body throbbed with it. She stood up and walked toward you on unsteady legs. Your eyes, bright and glassy, never left her face.

“How do ya feel?” she asked.

“Tired,” you said with a frown. “Like I can’t keep my eyes open.”

You shifted, making space for her on the sofa. She sat down and leaned against you, seeking out your fingers with her own and tangling them together absently. She explained the mix-up with the pain pills and you huffed in disbelief, a teasing smirk edging at the corners of your mouth.

“So you drugged me.”

Melissa squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t be a brat.”

“You bring it out in me,” you insisted quietly, playing with the edge of her denim shirt. Then, still possessed by the fading memory of dream Melissa, you slipped your hand under the fabric, fingertips dancing along the curve of her bare hip. Your breath caught at her warmth, her softness.

“You’re delirious,” she said, looking down at you in wonder. You were close enough you could see the pulse flickering madly in her throat.

“Feels like I’m still dreaming,” you said, voice little more than a whisper.

“Go back to sleep, hon.”

You protested, but your eyes were already drifting closed. Melissa waited until she was sure you were out again then placed a kiss on your forehead. With great reluctance, she returned to your desk, ignoring the electric hum of affection and arousal stampeding through her body.

Slowly the rest of the day slipped away. When the sky outside began to deepen toward late afternoon, Barbara came to check on you both. She stood in the doorway for a few moments before Melissa noticed her. The redhead looked quite beautiful in the soft halo of lamplight. Her hair fell in a curtain over one shoulder. Every so often, her eyes darted toward your sleeping form. Barbara wondered what revelations the day had bestowed upon her stubborn friend, and what, if anything, would come from them?

She cleared her throat to announce her presence and pulled a chair up next to you on the sofa.

“How’s the patient?” she asked, running her hand over your forehead tenderly. You nuzzled toward her touch, but didn’t wake up.

Melissa leaned back from the desk and stretched, smiling as Barbara proceeded to brush hair out of your face and straighten the blanket draped across your chest, her mama bear instincts on auto-pilot.

“According to Donna, she’ll live.”

“Praise the Lord,” Barbara murmured.

Melissa hummed in agreement. “Wanna give me a hand? I’m gonna drive her home. She don’t look too comfortable on that little couch.”

Barbara helped Melissa pack up her things and together they roused you, walked you to the parking lot, and situated you in the passenger seat of her car. You thanked Barbara, still a little groggy, as she helped you buckle up. You were too tired to be embarrassed.

“Get some rest, dear,” she said, closing the door carefully. Then she turned to her friend. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”

Melissa nodded, looking away. “Yeah, Donna said she shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Ok, maybe that was bending the truth a bit. But the fact remained you had a concussion, and you lived alone. Melissa couldn’t stomach the idea of dropping you off to an empty apartment. What you needed was a home-cooked meal, a warm bath, and someone to make sure you behaved. Her stomach flipped pleasantly at that last part.

Barbara didn’t press, just gave Melissa a long look before she spoke.

“Make sure you take care of yourself too,” she said, running a gentle hand up and down her friend’s arm. “You don’t always have to be so strong.”

She turned and walked to her own car.

“And call me if you need anything,” she added over her shoulder.

Then she drove away, leaving Melissa standing in the cold afternoon light.

Chapter 4

[cranberry-queen]

@vanlydmarso Sure! So here's a chapter of a book I'm working on. In it:

Voice-of-Reason: Mark

The Wild Card: Andre

The Observer: Tina

The Instigator: Lily

The Driver: Sam

Mark pushed his way into the house, the weight of a plastic bag dangling from his wrist. He barely had time to shut the door before Tina’s voice—sharp and fast—rang through the house. Spanish. Heated.

In the kitchen, between the fridge and the island, Tina stood with her arms crossed, her foot tapping in that deadly, rhythmic way she did when her patience ran thin. Andre stood opposite her, rubbing the back of his neck, his shoulders hunched like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Mark didn’t need to understand the words to know the fight’s cause: Andre’s latest bout of unemployment.

Mark swiftly averted his gaze. Tina was the only person in the house who had no problem dishing out scoldings when necessary, and he had no intention of getting dragged into the crossfire. He made a beeline for the counter, dropped Andre’s change into the battered “Council Jar,” and set the Coke beside it before hopping the two steps down into the sunken living area. Without a word, he dropped onto the couch beside Lily and extended his bag of Sparkles toward her.

She beamed at him, plucked a yellow one from the bag, and popped it into her mouth after unwrapping it. Her thumb scrolled idly through a social media feed on her phone screen, but her ears were tuned to the kitchen. Lily was the only one of the other housemates who understood any Spanish—badly, but enough.

“Andre lost his job again?” Mark asked, voice low.

“Yup,” Lily said, still chewing. “His bartending gig was supposed to make up for the fact that Tina switched to part-time at Woolworths.”

Mark frowned. He remembered when Tina had cut her hours at the clothing store, relieved to finally focus on finishing her degree. They’d even celebrated.

“What’s worse,” Lily added, her voice dropping, “is that her contract’s locked until the next hiring cycle.”

Mark exhaled sharply through his nose. That explained why Tina’s voice had taken on that sharp, clipped edge. He watched as Lily reached for another sweet but paused, her gaze unfocused.

“Tina��” she tilted her head, listening, “She’s giving him a week to find a new job or she’s renting his half of the basement to someone else. He’s trying to guilt-trip her, but she’s not having it.”

Mark rubbed the back of his head. He could spot them the rent, had done it before. But Tina would shut him down before he even finished the offer. She’d told him once, in that firm, no-nonsense way of hers: If you make allowances for one person, you have to do it for everyone. If Andre knew there was a safety net, he’d never get a job. Pride thing, maybe. But Mark cared too much about both of them to undermine that.

A familiar jingle at the front door made them both glance up. Sam.

Even though the door was always left unlocked during the day, she always used her key. Habit, she claimed. Six months wasn’t enough to break it.

The door swung open, and Sam waltzed in, a brightly colored box in her arms. She kicked the door shut behind her, her usual energy undeterred by the shouting match in the kitchen. Tina and Andre, caught mid-argument, paused long enough for Tina to sigh and give Sam an apologetic look.

“Sorry, guys. Give us a minute.” She grabbed Andre’s forearm and dragged him toward the basement door.

Once they were out of sight, Sam dropped the box onto the kitchen island with a grin.

Mark and Lily pushed off the couch, leaving the half-eaten bag of sweets and instant noodles behind. Sam saluted the faded photo of Mark’s parents on the fridge before popping the lid open.

“Since when is your manager this nice?” Lily asked as they settled onto the barstools.

“New manager,” Sam replied, filling the kettle. “Layla. She lets the closing staff take leftovers before they get tossed. Hates waste but doesn’t want upper management to sniff around.”

“She’s not worried someone will rat her out?” Mark snagged a chicken mayo sandwich.

Sam tossed a few crumpled receipts into the bin and dumped her spare change into the “Council Jar.” “And lose free food? Not a chance.”

“I’m not complaining,” Lily hummed around a chocolate jam doughnut.

Mark chuckled at her choice before nodding at Sam. “You actually make it to the lab on time this morning, or did you sweet-talk your way out of being late again?”

Sam rolled her eyes, stuffing a cinnamon bite into her mouth. “Made it. Barely. Professor Lennox would’ve lost it if I strolled in late again.”

“What are you even working on now? Thought you said it was some kinda cube?” Mark asked.

“An energy cube,” Sam corrected, setting their coffees in front of them. She took a seat. “It’s a self-sustaining generator. The casing works like a Faraday cage but channels electromagnetic energy into the core instead of just blocking it.”

“So it absorbs power?” Lily squinted, bracing for the answer to be wrong.

“Exactly. The core’s a supercapacitor, paired with what we call a ‘quantum resonance matrix.’ It stabilizes the absorbed energy, making it constant. Once powered, it emits a localized field that wirelessly powers electronics. Like Wi-Fi, but for electricity.”

“So, my phone would charge just by being near it?” Mark folded his arms, intrigued.

“Yup.” Sam’s face lit up. “No wires, no batteries. Just this little cube in the corner of the room.”

Lily arched a brow. “That sounds terrifying. What’s stopping it from frying everything?”

“That’s what we’re figuring out.” Sam shrugged. “We gotta break a few devices to get it right.”

Mark smirked. “So it’s either a game-changer or a phone-melter.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lily muttered, sipping her coffee.

Sam grinned and reached into her bag, pulling out a cube the size of a coffee mug. “This one’s defective. Too small for the prototype, so I gotta toss it tomorrow.”

Lily reached out but yelped the second her fingers brushed it, dropping it straight into her coffee.

Mark swore and fished it out with a dish towel, his whole body jolting from the shock. Every cell in his body felt awake.

Sam frowned, brushing off Lily’s frantic apologies. “Weird. It shouldn’t have done that—”

Before she could finish, Andre and Tina reappeared.

“What’s that?” Andre snatched the cube before Sam could stop him. He held it up, studying it—then winced, hand jerking back. “Ow—what the hell?”

“Give it back.” Sam reached for it.

Andre smirked and pulled it just out of her reach. “Relax, Doc, I’m just—ow! Damn thing shocked me.”

Tina sighed, smacked him upside the head, and took the cube. The second it touched her palm, she yelped and dropped it.

Sam caught it mid-air and stuffed it back into her bag. “Right. No one touch the shiny, defective, probably-shouldn’t-be-here cube.”

Tina gave her a long look before grabbing her coffee and sitting down. Andre followed suit, still shaking out his hand.

Sam grinned at them. “So, dinner’s on me?”

Tips from a Beta Reading Writer

This one's for the scenes with multiple characters, and you're not sure how to keep everyone involved.

Writing group scenes is chaos. Someone’s talking, someone’s interrupting, someone’s zoning out thinking about breadsticks. And if you’re not careful, half your cast fades into the background like NPCs in a video game. I used to struggle with this so much—my characters would just exist in the scene without actually affecting it. But here’s what I've learned and have started implementing:

✨ Give everyone a job in the scene ✨

Not their literal job—like, not everyone needs to be solving a crime or casting spells. I mean: Why are they in this moment? What’s their role in the conversation?

My favourite examples are:

The Driver: Moves the convo forward. They have an agenda, they’re pushing the action.

The Instigator: Pokes the bear. Asks the messy questions. Stirring the pot like a chef on a mission.

The Voice of Reason: "Guys, maybe we don’t commit arson today?"

The Distracted One: Completely in their own world. Tuning out, doodling on a napkin, thinking about their ex.

The Observer: Not saying much, but noticing everything. (Quiet characters still have presence!)

The Wild Card: Who knows what they’ll do? Certainly not them. Probably about to make things worse.

If a character has no function, they’ll disappear. Give them something—even if it’s just a side comment, a reaction, or stealing fries off someone’s plate. Keep them interesting, and your readers will stay interested too.

[pagelets]

Park Jongseong as your boyfriend:

"Because maybe

You're gonna be the one that saves me

And after all

You're my wonderwall"

Disclaimer: none, all fluff

- Spoils you:

• Spoiling you is one of his favorite things to do. Every now and then, Jay leaves his credit card in your wallet for you to spend however you want. “Babe, why is this here?”, you ask, holding out the card. “For you to buy something you want, sweetheart. Don’t mind the price”.

• You run to him and kiss his face, “I love you” “I love you too, princess".

- You protect him from ghosts:

• Watching horror movies with Jay is not a good idea. He gets easily scared and then, can’t sleep at night.

• But he’s lucky— he has you. You hold his head against your chest while lying on your shared bed, gently stroking his hair and telling him embarrassing stories of your teenagerhood. It calms him down, and he sleeps like a baby.

- You are the only one allowed to touch his guitars:

• This is a special privilege that no one else has, so feel flattered.

• Your fingers run over the wood of his brand new guitar with your eyes shining, amazed by its beauty. “Do you want to play?” “Can I really?” “Sure!”.

• He places you on his lap and guides your fingers over the strings. He smiles every time you light up like a child after playing a chord correctly.

• “We can start a band now", he tells you, “With the rest of the guys?” “No. Just the two of us".

• At the end, you guys end up making out.

- Long afternoons digging through old LP stores:

• From Oasis to Ed Sheeran, Jay loves a good LP.

• At first, you didn’t like it. “Why buy records when you have Spotify?”, you told him. But he promised it would be quick, and you agreed.

• In the end, you found yourself falling in love with the feeling of discovering a new gem among the vinyls and tapes, and it became one of your favorite shared hobbies.

- Make sure you have breakfast together every morning:

• Jay is very close to his family, and he wants his own family to be just as close with its own traditions.

• For now, you’re still a family of 2, but as Jay says, “It’s never too early to start".

• So, every morning feels almost like a ritual— you sit in the chair next to his, resting your legs on his lap while you share a meal together.

• He traces imaginary lines on your legs, and you both enjoy a comfortable silence before moving on with your busy schedules.

- Cooking together:

• If you're into cooking, he loves being your partner in the kitchen. You’re both very collaborative, sharing tasks and always giving each other a hand when needed.

• He shares his recipes and cooking tricks with you. For example, Jay’s famous curry. Only you know the secret to making it so delicious— and here’s a hint: it’s not love, as he tells everyone, but rather allspice.

• If you're not into cooking, don’t worry— he’ll cook for you. His specialty? All your favorite dishes.

• Since you don’t help in the kitchen, your job is to follow him around the kitchen and beg for a bite.

• “No, babe, you have to save room for dinner,” but after you look at him with bright, pitiful eyes, he finally gives in and feeds you with just a tiny bite— so you don’t ruin your appetite.

- Romantic trips together:

• Jay loves planning trips. He would rather plan everything himself than follow someone else’s plans.

• Anytime he can, he takes you on a romantic trip. It doesn’t have to be a fancy, paradisiacal place. A small cabin in a little town in Korea or a quick flight to Japan is already a perfect escape for the two of you.

• The most important thing is having a few days away from everything else to relax the mind and the body— just the two of you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖

It's been a long time since I post anything ab Enhypen. That's because I met TXT, and lemme tell you– they are very addictive (in a good way) haha. So I hope I'm still good at writing for the enha members. Posting this one specially to @farewelldevil who picked Jay for starting this small series (idk what else to call it). More members coming soon...

Masterlist

Ni-ki version

Heeseung version

Sunghoon version

[ponyojujuu]

Hiii ☺️🤭I'm here to kindly ask for some quality content

So if you could share who do you think is mtl likely to get turned on the first time they see their partner in their clothes?? ( Legal line ofc)

If you're up for it I would love it for both enha and &team.thank you🥰

hii! this seems so fun!

not a drabble more of a list with thoughts lol, lmk if you want drabbles of their reactions in my request box! &team will be in part 2!

most to least likely to get turned on seeing reader in their clothes (enhypen pt. 1)

not smut, but not fluff

slightly suggestive mdni

you have been warned

ni-ki! he would love this omg. i can imagine him giving you some of his clothes actually just to see you wear them. he’d love seeing his giant hoodies engulf your body, even if you just napping in them or being comfortable around the house. if he comes home from work and sees you in his clothes he’ll probably instantly feel a bit turned on, or even after you guys have sex and he sees you in his clothes he’s gonna wanna do it all over again.

jake! jake seems like the type to beg you to wear his clothes. you’d just be minding your business, maybe sitting on the couch/bed or just getting out of the shower and jake would be biting his bottom lip. “baby can you wear my shirt? please” sometimes your even avoid wearing it just because you know turned on he can get. if you can’t find some pajamas/clothes of your own you wanted to wear he would offer again for you to wear his. not only this but he would love the scent you leave on all his hoodies, shirts etc. he’d be obsessed with it, and loving to wear it again when he goes to work or anyplace without you carrying your sweet scent.

heeseung! heeseung seems like the type of bf to seriously love and be obsessed with anything you do as long as you’re doing it. including you wearing his clothes. it wouldn’t be just about the sexual, similar to jake he’d love the scent you’d leave behind on his clothes, and would probably hesitate to wash them once you give it back. he’d probably also love you in it more than himself and end up giving you a lot of his clothes. but getting turned on would definitely happen with him. like i said, heeseung loves everything you do in both ways, if you surprise him wearing one of his long button downs first thing out of the shower he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you (i mean when does he ever). you’d probably apologize for taking it short notice but he’d end up thanking you for wearing it because he finds it so hot.

jay! i think jay would like this, but moreso in the sense where he likes to dress you up in his clothes so you guys are matching. he seems like he’d be into corny stuff like that lolz. he’ll specifically pick certain clothes from his wardrobe that he wants to see you in, and his little fashionista heart will explode seeing you in it. I don’t think he’ll be a huge turn on for him, but something more wholesome he enjoys. but if you steal an oversized shirt or hoodie to sleep in he might be picky as to which you’re allowed to use since he has his favorite clothing. also jay and his short temper.

jungwon! jungwon wouldn’t be upset about you taking his clothes. but he would definitely tease you about it, like all the time in front of family friends who ever. “y/n has so much clothes but still wants to wear my favorite hoodie!” it would be cute. but he actually really loves when you wear his clothes. i think jungwon would have a decent self control so he wouldn’t always get turned on when you wear his clothes. especially his favorite items, then he might get just a bit upset with you. but sometimes when your wearing his clothes it might be a little to hard to keep control. i think he’d be very subtle about bringing it up because he knows you’ll tease him right back. “i thought you hated when i wore your clothes?” which was a really a lie, it was a way to stop himself from getting horny when he saw you.

sunoo! sunoo kinda seems like he wouldn’t typically enjoy you snooping around his closet at first. so when he sees you wearing his clothes he might be a bit picky about it at first. but once he is used to it he’d probably really adore you in them. but i don’t think he’d get to turned on by the idea unless your just wearing a plain white tee that’s see through. but in most case scenarios it would be more of a fluff thing for him. cuddling you and snuggling you in his clothes, sometimes teasing you for stealing all his clothes like jungwon.

sunghoon! sunghoon seems like he’s not huge on sharing things with you, especially since he seems to adore his high end fashion. but if you ask nicely though i can see him lending you a few clothes that he’d let you wear. but he’d probably be a bit moody if you went through his clothes without his permission. i don’t see him getting that turned on that easily by this though, unless he was already in the mood, or you were purposely trying to seduce him. but of course since your his girlfriend he’d give into the temptation of you eventually.

[shanesevikasfuckdoll]

You can be the boss, daddy 🦾

Sevika x Gang leader!reader because I said so 🦾

I'm slightly drunk while writing this, so I apologize in advance if the writing, and everything else is shit. 😆

Warning: Smut, a bit of fighting, reader being a flirt, Sort of bitch reader, Switch!Sevika, Switch!reader, I'm a horrible writer, Not/barely proofread!

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

You've been working with Silco for awhile, you're the leader of one of the most feared gangs in Zaun, notorious for bank robbery up top, bribing officers, and smuggling drugs and weapons from all around the world. Silco saw potential in you, so he decided to partner up. You and Silco discuss alot of business together, and only you, and him were allowed in the office. No guards, just you two.

You were often in Silco's office, discussing large transactions, smuggling, shipments, and over all boring business stuff, so you often stay in the last drop for awhile, to ease your mind off everything that needs to be done, but also still searching for more intel about your partner's right hand woman.

You heard about a 'Sevika', although never come across her. It's part of you and Silco's agreement of what is said in the office, stays in the office, only between you two. No guards allowed, to build trust in each other, but you still keep your eye on him.

The bar was loud, and alive, but you still enjoy the atmosphere. Every person has their own story to tell, and you liked that about Zaun.

She captured your interest the moment you set your eyes on her, and you can't help but ask "Who's that tall, dark, and handsome chick right there?" You ask the man behind the bar. "O-oh, that's Sevika!" He answers, reluctantly. "Hmm, interesting. May I know her business here?" You try and ask to see what else was going on. Intrigued by the woman before you. He stutters "I-Im sorry, I can't. I have to get back to work" He saysz his voice shaking. You give him a last good look, before you put on a smile, and say "No worries, kid." Before turning towards the door.

You come back a few times, but you've been planting your guards everywhere to keep an eye on Sevika. But everytime they come back, they tell you she's clean. You need more, though. You need to know about her.

So one faithful night, you decide to follow her, after she wins her games. You left your guards in the bar, though, telling them you can handle yourself.

You're about 20 steps behind her, wearing a coat to hide your identity, when she suddenly stops. She throws a dagger at you, that you immedietly dodge, as she lunges at you. She was about to gut punch you, when you dodge and pin her to the ground.

"Who are you?!" She spits. You chuckle at her, as you reveal your identity. Her eyes wide. "You?! what do you want from me?" You just raise your eyebrows, and smirk at her, before letting her go, and making her stand up. "Nothing. Can't a girl just be interested?" You snicker, leaning closer to her. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes still scanning you. "Why were you following me?" She asks, while stepping back. You just look up at her, and tell her the truth. "I was curious about you. You piqued my interest." She just stands there with a frown. Eyebrows furrowing, as she squints.

She shakes her head, and sighs. "For a big time crime lord, you're a shitty stalker, you know that." she spits. You laugh, and make your was closer to her, while maintaining eye contact. "Maybe. Or maybe I intended to be seen." You back her up against the wall, and wink at her. "Why are you following me? You could have just come up to me." She calls you out, still confused. "Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure, you know? There are only very few curious women out there. I didn't want to take a chance on nothing, hm?" You run your fingers across her cheek and down to her jaw. She raises on eyebrow at you again. "Doesn't this look 'curious' enough for you?" She raises one eyebrow at you again, smirking, while looking down at her body. You check her out. "You're quite interesting, Sevika I've had my eye on you from the moment I saw you. I still had to make sure you were clean. Sorry for the surprise, Darling. " You wink at her.

She just scoffs and looks to the side. But oddly enough, she doesn't push you away. You pull back, and she just looks at you while you walk away. You stop. "Meet me behind the bar tomorrow, after my meeting with Silco. I expect you to be there once I'm done." you say, and you continue walking.

She looks at you for awhile, when she feels something in her pocket. A note with your number, and initials on it. She just scoffs and rolls her eyes, as she crumples the paper, putting it back in her pocket.

She couldn't sleep that night. She kept looking at your number, considering calling it. But she doesn't. She just types your number in her phone to save it, but she can't. You're her boss's business partner for fuck sake! How will he react if he found out his right hand woman has a crush on you? Even Silco's afraid of you. And one time, he told everyone to stay out of your business, and never bother you, but you make it so hard. She has to follow her boss's orders, right?

She looks at your number for awhile, and then she puts it on the night stand. She stares at the ceiling, contemplating everything in her life. She can't have feelings for you. From what she's heard, you're a heartless crime lord, who'd take every measure to get what you want. But what DID you want from her?

"Fuck." She says under her breath. Unbuckling her belt, and putting her hand on her now wet cunt. She's thinking about the events from earlier, when you were pinning her down, pushing her against a wall, and winking at her. She rubbed circles around her clit, going faster and faster, as she remembers that dumb grin you had from earlier. Your voice, when you called her 'darling'. How close your face was to her. Fuck, you're gonna be the death of her.

she throws her head back, as she's close to cumming. lettig out a low groan, quietly moaning your name. Her fingers go faster, as she slightly whimpers. Her mouth wide open, her eyes shut, as she imagined you naked, right on top of her. When she came, she let out a gutteral groan. She just made a mess in her pants, and it was all because of you. She took some tissues, and wiped her fingers clean.

She could hardly sleep that night, thinking of seeing you tomorrow. "Ah, fuck it." She turns off her lamp, and tries her best to fall asleep.

When she got to work, she was sweating profusely near Silco all morning. All she can think about was just bending you over at his desk, and fucking you there. She was going insane because of you.

Afternoon rolls around, she just got back from a mission. Immedietly hanging at the bar to grab a drink, when she saw you walking in with you men. She just stared at you, imagining you without your clothes, imagining all the stuff she wanted to do with you. Then she snaps out of it, when she sees you looking back at her, with a smile as you wink at her. 'Fuck, this is gonna be a long afternoon.'

Once you got in Silco's office, she immedietly went to the back of the bar to smoke and wait for you. She knoes it was gonna be atleast an hour long wait, but if she stays anywhere longer, she fears she might actuallu go crazy.

She smokes and tries to keep her cool, but all she can think about is you. She walks around, and smokes her cigarettes for about 30 minutes or so, but it felt like eternity. When she hears the door from the bar open. She's at a small alley behind the bar, she doesn't even turn to look, but she already knows it's you, just from the sound of your boots. You look around for a bit, before you find her. Your eyes have a mixture of surprise, and something else. "Didn't think you'd actually come." You say to her, putting a cigarette between your lips, as you gesture for her lighter. "Took you long enough. How was the meeting?" She says, lighting your cigarette. You take a puff, and blows smoke to the side. "Highly confidential— hey, wanna get outta here?" You suggest, raising an eyebrow, with a playful smile.

When you get to you apartment, It wasn't anything special. It was even crappy, but it was practical, and closer to your office. She was awfully surprised that you don't have a princess castle by now. She stands there at the door, checking your apartment out. You get in, and gesture her to come sit on your couch. "What are you waiting for? Come in." She sits on the couch, still looking around your apartment. You take out two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, along with 2 cigars. "Surprised you didn't get a barbie dream house by now." She teases. You roll your eyes, as you open the beer bottle with your teeth. She just looks at you in awe, thinking 'Holy shit. This girl's something else.' You pass her the bottle, and she takes a sip of it. You sit next to her, lighting your cigar, and open your TV. "There's alot of things you'll find surprising about me then. How was your day?" You ask, before chugging your beer nearly half empty. "Alright. You?" She asks, struggling to light her cigar.

"Same old boring meetings with your same old boring boss. I wanna try something new for a change." You tell her, taking our your own lighter, and lighting it towards her. You both maintain eye contact with each other, the tension growing thicker. You break eye contact to look at your TV screen, as you put your hand on her thigh. You look up at her, and she gives you a nod of consent, and your hands get higher and higher. She blows smoke at your face. "Oh yeah? What else do you wanna try?" She raised an eyebrow at you, while smirking with her cigar between her teeth. She blows smoke to the side. You look in her eyes for a moment, with a glint of lust. You climb on top of her, leaning your face closer to her, as smoke comes out of your mouth. "I'll show you." You put your cigar to the side, and you pull her into a kiss, which quickly turns into a heavy makeout session. She takes your leather jacket off, leaving you with only your wife pleaser on, with no bra. She stares at your chest for a bit, before pulling you back into the kiss. Her hands trailing your body, her fingers find themselves in your breast, playing with your nipples. You moan in the kiss, and you pull her by her hair to deepen the kiss. This surprised her, but she wast going to back down. You unbutton her top, exposing her bra. And she gets up, carrying you with your legs wrapped around her. She takes you to your room, and starts undressing. She unbuckles her belt, and with that, her strap springs out, and your eyes go wide with the size of it. "F-fuck, Sevika." She gives you a smug look, before getting back to the kiss. The kiss being much more hungrier, and needier by the second. Her fingers make their way on your pants, and Sevika quickly pulls it off of you, and throws it somewhere. Your legs spread, Sevika takes a good look at your wet panties, as you bite your lip. "So needy" she teases. She goes down, her face close to your cunt, as she looks up at you. She leaves hickies on your inner thigh, and you can't help but moan, while trying to grind yourself on her face.

She tightly grips your leg, and growls. "Don't be fucking needy. I'm gonna take my time with you." She says with an evil look on her face. "F-fuck, Sevika, please" you whimper and beg like a pathetic whore. "Please what?" She says, as she looks up at you, while her lips get closer and closer to your cunt, but not quite there. "Please, Sev, fuck me." You cry out. She grins, as she takes her finger, and rub circles around your clothed clit. "So fucking needy. Begging me to fuck you like the whore you are?" She teases. You scoff, "Fuck you" And with that, your panties are nowhere to be found. She's positioning her dick near your entrance, and thrusts inside you with no warning whatsoever. She didn't even give you time to adjust. You just cry out in pain, and pleasure, the toy stretching you out. Clearly, Sevika likes the look on your face like that, as she smiles, and goes to kiss, and guve love bites to your neck. She starts thrusting inside you, and you let out a loud moan. She takes her hard and plays with your nipples, as she sucks on the sweet spot on your neck. Tears streaming down your face by the pleasure, your eyes immedietly start rolling in the back of your head. You cry snd moan Sevika's name so loud, that people from another compound could probably hear you. "Y-yes! yes! just like that, f-fuck, Sev, F-Fuck!" She thrusts faster and faster, and you cann already feel the knot in your stomach starting to build up. "That’s right baby, tell everyone who's fucking you right now, fuck" She growls in your ear, you moans getting louder and louder. You throw your head back, and Sevika let's you ride your orgasm on her cock, and you let out a loud wail. "O-oh f-uck!" she doesn't stop pounding you, until your next orgasm. You're a sweaty crying mess by now, Sevika being the cause of it. The pleasure, the slight pain of her huge cock stretching you out. It was perfect, the way she fucks you. You pull her face to kiss you, but you quickly pull back, making an 'O' face, as you start to reach another orgasm. "F-f-fuck, S-evika! f-uck, d-don't stop!" At this point, you can barely even make up words anymore, all you can think about is the pleasure. You didn't care anymore, you were overstimulated, as your orgasm comes around, you grip Sevika's hair tightly, as you firce your tongue in her mouth, and moan in her mouth "mhmmm—fuck!" with tears in your eyes, Sevika returns the kiss, rougher, and now sloppier. Her thrusts slowing down. She pulls back from the kiss, and pulls out, seeing your juices cover her cock. She licks you clean, and then she smirks at you, and pulls you into another kiss, and flipping you two over.

"Suck it." You nod, as she wiles the tears froom your eyes. You gather some strength, slthough still a bit shaky, you go lower, and put her dick on your face. She just looks at the sight of the size of her cock next to your face. She pulls you by your hair to make you get up, and she puts her cock in your mouth. She bobs your head, enjoying the view of you sucking her off, and choking. She let's out low grunts and moans, your eyes beginning to tear up again, as you choke on her dick, and then you pull your head up. She's surprised by this action, and before she can say anything, you put her strap to the side, and start sucking on her clit.

Her moan get louder, her grip on your hair tightening, she's still controlling the pace, as you stick your tongue out, she fucks your face with her pussy. You put a finger in her, which makes her whimper a little, too quiet for anyone else to hear but you. You quicken the pace of your fingers inside of her, and she's grinding on your face, and bobbing your head. Your face soaked in her juices, and your saliva, she was basically drowning you in her pussy. You go faster and faster, and then she throws her head back, her grinding getting rougher, she lets out a gutteral moan, "A-ah fuck!" as she cums into your mouth.

She pulls your hear, and makes you get up to her face, and pulls you into a deep kiss. You both make out for awhile, while you play with her sensitive nipples. You both moan in the kiss, all needy, and hungry.

When you finally have enough, your body falls ontop of her, and her arm is placed on your back, holding you in place. You both catch your breath for awhile. And you smirk up at her. She looks at you, slightly confused, and then you give her a firm peck on the lips. She chuckles, and holds you in place. You both look at each other for awhile, and then, you snuggle up to her neck. "You're mine now, you know that?" You tell her, not asking, or leaving any room for argument. She snickers at you. "Whatever you say, boss~" She teases and smiles, as she combs your hair with her fingers. "Fuck, what's Silco gonna say?" She asked, a bit worried. You just laugh "Yeah, I kind of told him I had a teeny crush on his right hand woman." You admit. Her eyes go wide for a bit, surprised. "What did he say?" She asked. "He just nodded, and said go for it. And now you're in my fortress, and there's nothing you can do about it." You say, teasingly, as you stick your tongue out at her. She immedietly sucks your tongue, and you both laugh together, as you drift to sleep.

Who knew the two scariest women in Zaun would fall inlove with each other. Sevika often helps you with business now, and you help her. Silco's been a surprisingly good wingman too. He promised to sponsor your wedding, once you and Sevika were ready to settle down as a token of gratitude for your loyalty, and partnership with him, he said it was "The least I can do."

And you both lived happily ever after.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yeah, I started this last night a little buzzed, I bullshitted my way into writing this whole thing. Hope you like it, though 😉

[apenitentialprayer]

Okay, so let's talk about this. By unanimous teaching, I mean the apparently uncontested praxis of the Church combined with a lack of any variance in stance when articulating teaching on the matter. As such, it is an exercise of the ordinary magisterium of the Church in extrapolating from the plain sense of Scripture, and it seems like a pretty solid stance to me. (One could argue that John Boswell's Same-Sex Unions in Pre-Modern Europe problematizes this, but it is a pretty controversial book).

I am going to axiomatically assert something that you are free to challenge, but I think is self-evident: attitudes toward a group of people are inherently more complicated than commands concerning one action. And I think that this is going to be on display in the situation that you brought up; but I also want to make it clear that I am trying to be truthful, so I am going to say in advance that a lot of our guys are not going to come out of this looking awesome. Because yikes. But I do think that the "unanimity" claimed by this counter-argument isn't as unanimous as the teaching on gay sex. And that's where the burden of proof on my position lies: not that the Fathers were unanimously pro-women (but that would have been nice), but simply that their position was not unanimously anti-women, giving the Church the room to step in and clarify Her position as mentioned in my original response.

And with that, I am going to start with praxis and the New Testament. Throughout the book of Acts and the Epistles of Paul (and maybe the Johannine Epistles, but the "lady" is unnamed and may actually be referring to a particular Church, so if you want to exclude that, I get it. I would), we have women who seem to hold pretty prominent positions in the early Christian movement. We have a Chloe in 1 Corinthians 1 who runs a household, we have Phoebe who definitely holds some sort of position in the Church in Corinth, and Junia who is "prominent" or "outstanding" among the early Christian missionaries as described by Paul himself. Even if we want to drop Chloe as an example because Paul mentions her neutrally, we have one prominent woman who Paul praises as outstanding and another that he trusts to deliver (and recite?) the Epistle to the Romans.

And, of course, there is Priscilla, who I think deserves her own paragraph. Priscilla is prominent enough in the early Christian community that Paul mentions that she sends her greetings to the community in Corinth (remember: she is from Rome, not Corinth, so this isn't a strictly personal thing), and Paul declares that both Priscilla and her husband are coworkers of his in Christ. I will note that "co-worker" does not necessarily imply equality in Greek as it does in English, but I think it is important that Priscilla and Aquila are mentioned in tandem here, especially since the book of Acts describes both members of this couple as catechizing Paul further after they hear him preach.

So, right off the bat, I think the claim of unanimity of teaching that "women are inferior to men" is on shakier grounds than "gay sex is sinful." The only argument I can think of from the New Testament for the permissibility of gay sex is that some claim that the servant (literally παῖς, "servant" or "boy" in Matthew's Greek) whom a centurion asks Jesus to heal may have been in a sexual relationship with his master; the Matthean text, as mentioned, uses a more tender word for servant than the Lucan, while the Lucan text also mentions that the servant was "highly valued." Jesus heals the sick servant without condemning homosexuality. And maybe you're convinced by that argument. I am not. Because even if the "high value" placed on the servant was romantic or sexual in nature (which is an inference)... controversial opinion, but the servant would still be worthy of Christ's compassionate healing.

Of course, the elephant in the room is that Paul (or the letters attributed to him; whatever) also writes quite a few things that allow for... what I'll call a polyphonic tradition concerning women and their status in society. I am going to ignore what are called the "household codes," because I don't think they are as problematic as modern readers make them out to be. I think there is something to be said about the fact that Paul establishes a pattern where he asserts the dominant culture's traditional values, and then quickly adds something new. As the Franciscan scholar of Biblical theology Jude Winkler mentions in his commentary, Paul asserts responsibilities towards each member of the household without explicit mention of any privileges over other members of the household. But even so, there are plenty of verses for the Church Fathers to draw from to establish "women are inferior."

And it is at this point that I am going to cheat a little bit, and deploy a hermeneutical tool proposed by an Anglican scholar. John Macquarrie states, regarding the attitudes toward women in the early Church:

Sociologically, a religious institution tends to reflect the traditional mores and so usually exercises a conservative influence. Theologically, however, such an institution may be bringing in new and even revolutionary ideas, without at the time being fully aware of the implications of these ideas. One could even say —if the comparison is allowed— that the theology is like a time-bomb which will explode at some future date with unforeseeable consequences.

Now, I want to make something clear: What I am not saying is that Revelation allows for sudden switches when we "discover" some hidden meaning in the text. If that were so, well, the Church affirming gay sex as not sinful wouldn't be enough to make me leave. What I am suggesting is that Revelation leaves ideas or principles that we can see irritating the proponents of a view contrary to that idea or principle within the historical record. And I think that irritant in this case is the combined creation narratives in the Book of Genesis, with it's dual doctrines of (I) man and woman share a nature, and (II) that nature is made in the Image of God.

I think that the use of these doctrines to establish the equality of the sexes reaches its height in the premodern world in Aelred of Rievaulx's On Spiritual Friendship, where he states:

It was from no similar, nor even from the same, material that divine Might formed this helpmate, but as a clearer inspiration to charity and friendship He produced the woman from the very substance of the man. How beautiful it is that the second human being was taken from the side of the first, so that nature might teach that human beings are equal and, as it were, collateral, and that there is in human affairs neither a superior nor an inferior, a characteristic of true friendship.

Now, you may be thinking, Aelred of Rievaulx died in the 1160s. Yes... and when I asked another blogger to similarly give me one example of a pro-gay sex theologian who lived before 1200, the best she could do was "I cannot find a Christian theologian before 155 who talks negatively about homosexuality." I think this is another leg up for my position on the differences between these two "unanimous" teachings. But again, if you can find an orthodox Christian defending its permissibility (or even an unorthodox one, not because that would convince me but because it would be interesting to learn about) in that time period, I am all ears.

But, back to the irritant thing. I am going to look at two passages right now, one from a commentary by Pseudo-Ambrose on 1 Corinthians 11:7, and the other from John Chrysostom on 1 Timothy 2:11-15. I will admit up front that I think my analysis of Pseudo-Ambrose is the weaker of the two arguments.

So Ambrosiaster (that's faster to type than Pseudo-Ambrose) is commenting on a verse that reads: "for [man] is the glory and image of God; but woman is the glory of man." And this could be an argument for the innate inferiority of women. And Ambrosiaster does make the argument that man is first "by cause and order." But here's the thing: that pesky Genesis gets in the way. Ambrosiaster has to address it, and the way he argues for it (in my opinion) shows how he has to square this verse with the Genesis narrative, and not the other way around. And to explain this apparent discrepancy, he says "although man and women are of the same substance, man has relational priority because he is the head of the woman." The immediate riposte here is that man is not "the head" of woman. This would be, Biblically speaking, the specific relation between husband and wife. (And that's another can of worms, but this is getting to be long). And the clearest analogy to what Ambrosiaster seems to be trying to formulate is the relationship between the Father and the Son, who are also of one substance, and, as per the Athanasian Creed... are coequal (coaequales) because of that. Moving on to Chrysostom, who uses Genesis 3 to explain his position on the infamous passage in Timothy. In his ninth homily of that book, Chrysostom uses the Genesis narrative as an etiology for the unequalness of the sexes. Eve had one opportunity to "teach" Adam, and that was a disaster for the human race. And, what's worse, Eve fell harder than Adam did, because she was deceived by an animal, while Adam was deceived by an equal: "she made bad use of her power over him, or rather her equality over him." Whoa, there! Adam and Eve were equal before the Fall? And that inequality was the result of the Fall? I think that by hinging his argument on Genesis, Chrysostom has exposed his position to an immediate critique — which he just glosses over! If inequality of the sexes is the result of the Fall, and if the Redemption reconciles us and saves us from the effects of the Fall.... you get where I'm going with this?

Combine this with a range of views from Augustine's "women are good, actually" argument against the Manicheans (not a solid argument for equality, I know) to Tertullian's (who is not a saint) "monstrous creatures" comment, and I think you can make an argument that the Church has plenty of room to step in and clarify what contents of these many voices actually ring true.

So, to recap: what I am not saying is that "actually, the Church Fathers always taught women were equal to men and we've always been awesome on that :)))." (I haven't read a lot of Epiphanius of Salamis's works, but one passage enough was to make me rethink my stance on womens' leadership in the Church, because holy shit, dude. We put you in charge of women???). But what I am saying is:

the Church's historical attitudes towards women are not as singularly monolithic as its teaching on the impermissibility of gay sex.

the teachings of the Church Fathers who argued for or justified the total subordination of women had to address the opposing view in a way that (arguably) undermines their position.

And I think these weaken the "unanimous teaching" enough to justify an acceptance of a development in doctrine within the Church in a way that a reversal of the Church's stance on same-sex sexual activity does not.

I think it is also worth mentioning that the articulation of doctrine and the unfolding of concepts as transmitted from Revelation is a process that is historically conditioned. The way that it grows into itself is often a response to the social factors and cultural conditions around it that demand a response. The Church draws from the intellectual atmosphere around it, sanctifying what is good in it for a higher purpose, and enriching Her articulation of the faith through it. So I would not to downplay, and would in fact like to thank, the feminist and personalist movements that contributed to the development.

Does this strain the credibility of the Catholic Church? Yes. Is it a death-blow? I don't think so. But also, I need to re-emphasize this, I am Literally Just Some Guy on the internet. So, if you want to investigate this yourself, I would recommend looking for works dealing with women in Late Antiquity and the Medieval Periods.

lol I love when straight catholics are like if the church affirmed homosexuality i would leave bc she'd clearly be wrong and it'd undermine fundamental catholic doctrine cus like. I do somewhat get it. it'd certainly put a question mark over simplistic ideas of church authority. it does undermine credibility of the church and perhaps even of Christianity as a whole.

but also. the idea your faith is actively resting on not affirming gay people and would be destroyed if you discovered it was otherwise - that gay marriages would annihilate whatever else you found in Christianity that's good and life giving and meaningful - that feels a bit personal lol. and it's functionally saying 'I think lgbt peoples suffering is not just a sad fact of life but necessary for my own faith to exist; you need to be alienated from God so I can have my certainty Im doing the right thing'

[twopoppies]

Soooooo h’s trainer did an article on his workout routines for touring and outside of touring. Brad not mentioned - i think Brad was used either secondarily if his trainer couldn’t travel the whole time or as we all like to think was an Azoff ploy. Maybe Brad was used to give H a little more freedom in starting to come out of the closet, but I’m still not a fan. His trainer though had the kindest things to say about h. This could also start kickoff the rumblings of a new tour

SO interesting. Thibo has been with him for years. I remember him being quoted a number of times. So what the hell was Boring Brad there for? It sure seems like he was just a minder. Maybe a workout partner. He sure set himself up very well having everyone think he was the reason Harry looked so amazing during Love On Tour.

We gained unprecedented access to the star's workout secrets from the man who has worked with Harry for over five years and built his stamina to where it is today - personal trainer Thibo David.

Thibo first met the 'As It Was' singer when he was working on his first album via a recommendation.

[…]

Setting a workout plan on day one of Love on Tour would not have cut it. The sell-out shows ran for 22 months covering 173 shows across seven legs and five continents so adequate physical preparation was essential maintaining physical health and the stamina required to keep up with such a rigorous set.

"Harry's main priorities ahead of a tour are building endurance, maintaining energy levels, and staying injury-free," Thibo reveals. "His tours are incredibly demanding, both physically and mentally, with long performances, travel, and limited recovery time."

The trainer explains that the 'Watermelon Sugar' singer focuses on improving cardiovascular fitness, strengthening his core, and incorporating mobility exercises to enhance flexibility and prevent strain.

"Beyond physical fitness, he places a strong emphasis on mental clarity and stress management, ensuring he's fully present and capable of delivering his best on stage," he adds. "Hydration, sleep, and balanced nutrition are equally essential in his preparation."

Thibo is no ordinary personal trainer. His background as a commando heavily influences the training programme he devises for Harry before, during, and after a tour. He tells us: "Touring often presents unpredictable conditions—whether it’s a lack of equipment, limited space, or tight schedules. The ability to adapt quickly and create effective workouts in unconventional settings was key.

Thibo says that Harry's tour workout looks different from his other work commitments: "For a film, we might prioritise functional strength, agility, and endurance, while for a photoshoot, we'd incorporate elements of conditioning and aesthetic-focused training. Regardless of the goal, the workouts always maintained a balance of mobility, strength, and recovery to ensure Harry remained physically prepared for the demands ahead."

[…]

"We had a lot of fun. One of our traditions was running the stairs of every stadium and arena we visited, turning it into a unique challenge." Making exercise fun for the star is a priority for Thibo and he had a certain trick up his sleeve for lifting the energy before a show.

"Sometimes, we even turned these sessions into team events, with the musicians and crew joining in. This approach not only kept Harry in peak physical condition but also fostered camaraderie and morale among the team," he says.

[…]

"…we focus heavily on energy management, tailoring sessions to complement his performance schedule. Recovery becomes a top priority, with techniques like mobility work, active stretching, and massage incorporated regularly."

A tour coming to a close does not signal the end of Harry's workout plan. This new phase allows Harry to use exercise to recover and rebuild. Thibo explains: "We shift the focus to activities like running, boxing training, and recovery practices, such as cold baths, to help his body decompress from the intense demands of touring.

"The workouts are less about high intensity and more about maintaining his fitness base, regaining mobility, and resetting his energy levels. This phase is also a great time to experiment with new methods and address any imbalances or tightness that may have developed during the tour."

Having worked closely with the former One Direction star, Thibo can attest to Harry's dedication – a trait that makes a personal trainer's life undeniably easier. He tells us: "Harry is an amazing human being—focused, disciplined, and incredibly dedicated to his craft.

"He fully understands the benefits of optimising all aspects of his performance, which makes working with him both rewarding and effective."

Full article and photos here

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

read the leona flaws req(?) and now im curious about silvers flaws. i was gonna ask about kalims too, but it's probably pretty obvious what his are (obliviousness or wtv). but if you've done this before then just ignore this ask m(__)m

[Referencing this post!]

I won’t be going out of my way to make a list of all Silver and Kalim's flaws due to the reasons cited in this post. However, I’m going to at least discuss Kalim here!

This anon proposes that Kalim's flaws are "probably pretty obvious" and mentions that his obliviousness is one such flaw. Yes, that's true. Kalim often does not notice how his requests and ideas impose on others (namely Jamil). At other times, his obliviousness leads to him unintentionally insulting others. For example, he accidentally insults Riddle's lack of stamina by remarking, "You know, it's kinda nice to see even you can't come first in everything, Riddle." Finally, his obscene wealth allows Kalim to not really be cognizant of his privilege; Kalim often does not realize there is a significant wealth disparity between himself and others, and while he isn't mean about it, it can still come off as demeaning when he casually talks about what he has or acts surprised by what others don't have.

Honestly, a lot of Kalim's flaws come from the sheltering that his privilege gives him. He doesn't seem to understand how a lot of things work and doesn't seem to be aware of the struggles that the common man experiences. Kalim also believes that there are easy solutions to what are very complex issues, like claiming that he and Jamil can "start over" and try to be friends and rivals on their own terms. This optimism can be a good thing too though--Kalim chooses to be trusting of others, even if it puts himself in danger, because he doesn't want to live life being suspicious of everyone and everything. When you think about it, Kalim doesn't know when the day could be his last (since there are constant attempts on his life). So his whole "party boy" persona... maybe he's just living it up as best he can because hey, if he dies today then he wants to have gone out like a firework... shining brightly, being happy, etc.

A flaw of Kalim's that I don't see being discussed much--perhaps because it's not as easy to "see", given how cheery he seems and how he has all of his basic needs and more met--is how Kalim actually doesn't entrust much of himself to others. "But wait, Raven!" I hear you saying. "That's not true! Kalim's so generous! He's always throwing parties for others and offering to buy them things. He's also one of the only students to be warm and inviting, and he can get emotional and talk too much about personal details." Yes, you're right! However, that's not the same as Kalim truly being vulnerable. A lot of his dialogue is talking about the fun he has with others or about his family and its business or connections. But what about his troubles? It's not realistic for Kalim to be happy 24/7. Surely he must have bad days too? Problems of his own? A line in his Dorm Uniform card suggests as much: "Mind if I bend your ear about my troubles sometime?" BUT THEN THE INSANE THING IS THAT HE FOLLOWS THAT UP WITH, "Let's see... Hmm... Actually, ever mind, my life is great! Ha ha!"

It sounds like he has issues he wants to share with you, but he never actually does. Instead, he dismisses it and claims that his life is just fine... even though this guy might have tons of trauma from the many assassination attempts on him. He gets ill at the thought of curry because Jamil was harmed in taste testing poisoned curry for him--and even in this story, Kalim is shown to care so much for others, but is unwilling to speak about himself and what he's going through. In book 5, Jamil is, for the first time, selected for his genuine skills over Kalim, who is used to everything being handed to him on a silver platter. Kalim struggles to verbalize why it is that he's frustrated, but resolves to practice more on his own without telling anyone. He even seems a little bashful that Yuu walks in on him, almost like Kalim is hesitant of showing people how he is when he's not happy. He's ultimately able to talk out his feelings with Yuu (which is great), but I'd argue Kalim doesn't truly come full-circle until book 7. That's when he finally makes good on a promise he makes in book 4: that he'll slug Jamil and call him a bad guy for betraying him all the way back then. Here it is in full force, that ugliness that Kalim wasn't ready to let out or come to terms with when we first met him.

I completely understand that it can be harder to spot the shortcomings of someone who so readily masks their problems with the whole "I'm okay! Look at how happy I am!" schtick. I'm not even necessarily accusing Kalim of "faking" it; that's genuinely how he is, and potentially also his main means of coping with whatever issues he's got going on. I think it's really fascinating to consider though! Even when you're as rich and as powerful as Kalim is, he's got his own demons to content with.

[spinchip]

“Women and Children were targeted first,” Vex says at his emperors side, a shadow that clings to the edges of the Emperors long shawl dragging in the slush. Snow melted under boots and so well trodden that there were dirty pathways cut into the drifts pooling in the village- more mud than snow now. More blood than snow, too. “The men were away on a hunt.”

The Emperor surveys the remains of the village, the bones of their homes mingled with bodies strewn across the wet earth. It is a gruesome scene, a violent attack. He takes several more slow, shambling steps before Vex can no longer stand the silence and speaks again.

“The men came back to a trap.” He adds. “I believe-”

“Be quiet.” The Emperor's voice rolls and rumbles its way out of him, the roughness of it grating in the cold air. “Allow me a moment of peace to mourn.”

Vex falls silent, slowing down so the Emperor can continue on his march alone. The blizzard Samurai moving around the camp don’t speak, either. They are gathering the bodies and preparing the burial rites, the sound of boots squelching in mud makes the Emperor's chest ache. Senseless violence. His people slaughtered, their homes destroyed- he did not protect them, and now he was to bear witness to his failure. He grieves quietly over the dead as he twitches his fingers, casting the snow away and revealing hidden remains.

“When did the attack take place?” He asks tonelessly, turning his head just slightly to indicate his question is directed at his faithful advisor.

Vex steps forward and rejoins him as they move through the village, “It is impossible to know exactly when. A patrol returned this morning, and their report detailed that the tribe had already been slaughtered when they arrived.” He clicks his tongue as he thinks, “The trip here is not long through Wojiras passage, and our warriors have been able to pass through without issue since your dragon made its presence known to the beasts in the mountains. They should have made contact here at least two days ago, and it has taken us a day to arrive.”

“Three days.” He murmurs.

“It could be more.” Vex says quietly.

How long had his people been laid here, unable to rest? Spirits bound to their bodies cut down with no respect, left to preserve perfectly in the frost. There will be no one here left alive to mourn these people when he and his company make their leave. The thought of it makes the empty caverns of the Ice Emperors mind echo with sorrow.

“My Emperor… you cannot allow this to happen again.” Vex speaks so softly it’s only the northern wind's strength that carries the words to him. “They are animals.”

“They speak and they understand.” The Emperor reminds him stiffly.

“Then they are monsters. Look at the carnage they have wrought!” He sweeps his arm out at the scene before him, old blood and snow mixing in the afternoon light into an ugly ruddy brown, “You have been lenient with the Yeti. perhaps too lenient.”

“Watch your tongue.” The emperor says sharply.

They once again lapse into silence.

“...Your efforts to find peace have been admirable, my Emperor.” Vex continues slowly, “but you must open your eyes. These people are dead, and it was the Yeti who came down for the slaughter.”

The wind blows harshly around them, but neither of them feel the chill of it, “What evidence do we have?” He asks finally.

They turn a corner and come upon the blizzard Samurai preparing a body for transport.

“You have seen the injuries of the dead, my emperor.” Vex says soberly, “You know as well as I who was behind this.”

Teeth Marks. Uneven, choppy bites torn into skin and bone, rending thick fur-lined leather apart like paper. It doesn’t make sense. Why would the Yeti come here, so far from their homes up in the northern mountains? The longer he looks at the body in front of him, the more a creeping sense of doubt crawls up his spine. The bitemarks looked… too perfect. No pull of skin from blunted teeth. Like a clean cut. Done post mortem, maybe. The yeti did not hunt formlings for food, so why..?

The Emperor resumes his walk as he thinks, trailing around the village slowly while Vex follows.

“Were any resources salvageable?” The Emperor pivots the conversation as they walk past the stalls of what might have once been a small market. “Their sister village has been weakened by illness. We should not allow anything to go to waste- it is not the way of the formlings to discard what could be used.”

They quietly discuss these things as they make their rounds. There are things that could be offered to the neighboring tribes. Blankets, furs, and spices. Fishing and hunting equipment. Medicines. There are more things that cannot.

“And what of the livestock?” Is the final question the Emperor has, spurred only by the way they had come upon chicken coop tucked away behind one of the few homes that still stood.

“We have found no signs of animals. I imagine that is, perhaps, spoils of the conquest that the yeti took with them.”

The Emperor hums quietly, staring at the coop with blank eyes.

“You have sent for a reverend.” It's not so much a question as it is a flat statement.

Vex answers it anyway, “Yes. I had a scout leave the moment we got the initial report. He should be arriving soon- from the tribes west of here.”

“Good. We will stay for the funeral rites and then we will take our leave.” the Emperor sweeps his long coat as he turns away from the home, grief and suspicion clouding his mind. He takes only two long strides before he freezes in place.

There’s a sound coming from behind him. Soft, rough, tired.

“My emperor?” Vex prods, concerned.

So, so quiet. Just barely there.

A small, feeble little cry.

He turns around and rushes to the chicken coop, the snow clearing for him instantly as he drops to his knees by the weather worn old thing. It’s a tiny pen, made for maybe two birds- it doesn’t even open fully. The little entrance for the chickens is the only way inside. He bends low to look in. His eyes could see things that very few could in a space as dark at the pit before him. Old straw, feathers, remnants of chicken feed- and there, tucked away deep and covered in a handful of straw is-

He’s reaching inside before he can finish the thought, hand gently grasping soft furs as he slowly pulls the bundle out of its little sanctuary.

“Doctor!” He shouts loud and sharp and jarring in the still air the moment he catches the first glimpse of the baby's face. He doesn’t need to call him again with the way his call echoes the empty landscape.

He tucks the precious thing into the crook of his right arm and uses his left to unbutton his coat, swinging the thick fur off his shoulders and onto the cold ground to offer some barrier between the infant and that creeping chill. It’s not wrapped for this cold- the furs bundled around the child meant for inside, near the warmth of the hearth. It was too cold. Had been too cold for far, far too long.

A man comes stumbling through the snow, glasses askew, “Yes, My Emperor!?” He says frantically before he catches sight of the patient that the Emperor is laying down. He gasps and rushes forward, setting down his heavy bag and immediately getting to work on the baby.

He is the only other human to accompany them out of the palace- artificial blizzard samurai make up the rest of their party. But there are things those snowmen cannot do. He had come along just in case there was a chance of survivors, but had spent the entire morning sitting in the sled he’d ridden in with nothing to do. Not until now.

His hands fly over the child as he checks it over, pulling at the swadling to peek at the blue-tinge of her extremities. He listens to her heart for a long time, and the tension in his shoulders slowly drops. He is not so quick now as he re-wraps the child gently.

“My Emperor…” He says sorrowfully.

“It has passed?” He asks roughly.

“No,” He begins, “Bu-”

“Then do something.” his voice thunders out of him, harsh and demanding.

The doctor flinches but his hands stay at his sides, “I do not believe there is anything that can be done.” He says meekly, “It has succumbed to the cold. It won’t be long now.”

“Why was she in the chicken coop?” Vex questions behind him.

The Ice emperor draws his fingers gently down the baby's cheek. It doesn’t stir at the contact. It doesn’t even shiver at the next gust of wind. He remembered, vaguely, that there had been a woman slaughtered in this home with a spear in her hand. “It’s mother hid it away.” He concludes, “To protect it from the Yeti.”

“And it worked.” The doctor says but there is no joy there, “We were just too late.”

The lone survivor is to die right in front of him.

“Perhaps it is mercy to end its suffering.” Vex says blithely, his voice closer as he leans over the emperor to look at the kid.

“No.” He mutters, “It cannot be so.”

He unstraps the mask from his head and casts his helmet aside, the thunk of it hitting the snow sounding jarring in the stillness between the three men. He had done this before- once with vex, several times with the usurpers that stole his throne. Never before on something so fragile, so small. The staff in his right hand glows as he pours focus into his mind- he cannot be too hasty, too brash. This is not something to rush. But he has to go quickly anyhow. If the baby passes before he can- there is no second chance.

He feels the familiar spit of sparks along his neck before his hair bursts into brilliant blue flames.

The doctor gasps and scrambles back, his spine hitting the chicken coop with a painful sounding thud.

He reaches his hand towards the child and allows that blue fire to trickle down the side of his throat and catch a line up his sleeve. He cradles the baby’s cheek for a moment before he moves his index finger up, pressing it right between its wispy little eyebrows. Fire drips its way over his arm and finally cascades like a waterfall over the infant. The whole bundle goes up in flames.

The doctor reaches up to grasp the holy symbol strung around his neck, whispering a prayer.

He will protect it. It is his duty as Emperor. He failed this village- he will not fail at this.

Finally he stops. The fire connecting the two of them flickers lower and then out completely.

He takes his hand away. There’s a brilliant blue star shape stained into her skin. It worked. It had to have worked.

Another heartbeat passes before the baby opens its mouth and, with a mighty inhale, wails. It screams and cries and wails in discomfort and fear until the Ice Emperor gathers it up in his arms and holds it close, the familiar comfort of being held soothing the baby. It cries itself to sleep- but it is alive.

He stands on legs that don’t shake, “I must return to the palace.” He wordlessly calls a blizzard samurai over, “Send for a midwife in the village across the river. Send her to me, urgently.”

“My emperor?” Vex says, bewildered.

“Stay here and oversee the burial.” He says plainly.

“I- but- My emperor, you…” his face seems to be morphing into a lot of different expressions as he tries to formulate a rebuttal.

“And when you return to the palace,” The Emperor continues firmly, “Prepare our samurai. We will be going to the northern mountaintops within the week.”

Vex’s shocked expression turns into a wide, hungry smile. “A wise choice, My Emperor.”

“You were right.” The Ice Emperor gazes down at the baby in his arms, at the scar he’d given it saving its life, “I cannot allow this to happen again.”

Ummm new oc. Kotori 🩵

[essektheylyss]

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, and in particular the tension between the outcomes of his poor choices and the better—potentially even good!—person he is trying to be as a result of the Nein's influence, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when new developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.