#anytime someone get's a why this instead of that religion you always end up having to say well I disagree for x reasons

[multifanatics]

Losing My Religion || Harleen Quinzel x GN!Reader

A/N: Based off of R.E.M's Losing My Religion, I tried to focus more on pre-Harley Quinn as it lets me gets me into Harley's character a little more. Hope you like it!

Warnings: Arkham, Mental Health, Bank robbery, Probably more... Proceed with caution..

Word Count: 857

[Y/N] was found in the position of someone who lost everything. Sitting on heels while knees dug into concrete, hands open and bloody as if holding a gift to present to oneself, while tears broke through the dam they were sure was unbreakable. The only cling to any sanity they had left was the blood on their hands, the innocent desperation was ripped away from them. No sense of true direction and the silent begs to have someone wake them up from the twisted dream. 

“You always remember your first, no matter if it was out of defense.” The feminine voice brings [Y/N] out of their memory bank. [Y/N] was thrown into Arkham, home of the criminally insane once Batman had caught wind of their rising fame in the criminal underworld. Bank robberies, fires, killings, the whole shabang besides the killer riddles, jokes, ect. [Y/N] had not been able to find out their gimmick, how to proceed from the first. 

“That’s the thing, Ms. Quinzel… I don’t remember anything except the final crack in the sanity I tried so desperately to cling onto. It felt like cracking a million coconuts in slow motion. Have you ever done that?” 

“Gone insane?”  Doctor Harleen Quinzel questioned. She was the current assigned case worker to Arkham patient [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Harleen writes something onto her clipboard as [Y/N] slings their body over the chair laying in the seat instead of sitting. 

“No, No. Opened? No, not opened. Cracked a coconut?” [Y/N] asked while making a cracking motion with their hands, pretending slowly to crack open the same coconut they referred to as their sanity on that dreadful night. 

“No, I haven’t. Why a coconut?”  Harleen looks up from her clipboard and [Y/N] turns their head now facing the doctor before asking. 

“What?” [Y/N]’s hands are still fidgeting with the pretend coconut. 

“You use the coconut as a metaphor for your sanity, why?” 

“No, I understand what you asked. Let me rephrase.. What does this piece of information help you learn about me?” [Y/N] once again sat up elbows on their knees, palms connected as their chin rests on their middle fingers no longer concerning themself with the coconut. 

“It helps me understand what your brain means to you. I remember our deal. I help you find a gimmick and you help with my research.” deal? [Y/N] questioned themself maybe it was that hysterical patient getting to Harleen but [Y/N] could break out of Arkham anytime they wanted too. Or at least that’s what they thought. 

“Well!” [Y/N] pointed their pointer and middle fingers at Harleen, their hands still touching each other. They learn back in the chair, trying to subconsciously soothe themself. 

“A coconut is tough on the outside but if you crack the coconut enough it leaks and opens. Now, tell me what you got from that doctor.” [Y/N] enjoyed their sessions with Harleen, she was one of them. Harleen took the time to understand her patients and that was what made her so different from every other doctor. Harleen writes something on her clipboard before returning her attention to [Y/N]. 

“It shows that you believed you proved strength through said sanity you believed it to be something much stronger than what it was. If it had not been thrown around, cracked enough to break and leak.” Harleen spoke, to which [Y/N] gathered the information and before they could get their end of the supposed deal Harleen was being called off. 

“Try Losing My Religion.” Harleen spoke before having to leave the room and [Y/N] was dragged off to their cell, the song vaguely coming to their mind. [Y/N] kept themself up throughout the night trying to peel apart the song to find some hidden meaning behind it. What it was supposed to mean. 

---

A few weeks after the great Arkham break or at least the Arkham break that birthed Harley Quinn the once amazing physiatrist who spent too much time with the inmates. [Y/N] and Harley robbed a bank. Their partnership in Arkham took a new hold on each of them as they both came to a familiar understanding of what exactly Harley meant.. They knew that it was them in the spotlight of Gotham city. 

When Harley found her gimmick the Harlequin [Y/N] finally followed suit, matching the woman who helped them find themself. A black and white themed Jester who was much more into the show performance rather than the punchline of a joke. [Y/N] whistled a familiar song, one that had plagued them and defined what happened that wonderful night. [Y/N] smirked, incapable of a true smile while Harley and them made their getaway from the bank. Walking off knowing that they were meant to be exactly where they were. Causing mayhem and madness everywhere they went this incredible duo would be the next face of Gotham city’s villains. The spotlight was them, when they tried, cried, and lost themselves day by day but at least they lost each other together.

[guiltywisdom]

Do u think the catholic idea of seperation between mortal/venial sins is helpful? Personally it really.. scares me.. ofc, catholics/adherers to the belief still understand God's goodness is beyond us and we should just trust Him but.. idk.. maybe its cuz i cant attend confession i feel uneasy abt it - c

Nope! I actually REALLY disagree with the idea of mortal/venial sins! It’s EXTREMELY “legalistic”. 

St. John Chrysostom said, “The Church is a hospital, and not a courtroom, for souls. She does not condemn on behalf of sins but grants remission of sins.”

To break down every sin, to catalog them like books and label them like spices defeats the ultimate purpose. We should not spend time trying to work out if a sin is “important” enough.

As Elder Paisios of Mt. Athos said “The goal is to rise spiritually, not simply to avoid sin.” 

Sorry my Roman Catholic friends but I’ve found my major issue with the West is their tendency to try and “figure out” every single aspect of God and boil him down to a “science” of sorts; mortal/venial sins is a perfect example of that. I think they spent too much time trying to “make sense” of Him. God doesn’t “make sense”. God is much bigger and greater than we can imagine. He’s not out here drawing such arbitrary lines in the sand.

It really isn’t helpful either. We shouldn’t be letting ourselves think that that! Don’t focus on the sin but on rising spiritually, see the sin and instantly remove it from your life. Confess and move on. All sins may be forgiven, no matter the size so do not worry if your sin will or won’t be forgiven because in true repentance, all sins are forgiven.

[noteguk]

any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself. 

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship 

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here 

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no. 

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles. 

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying. 

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower. 

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times. 

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener. 

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync. 

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling. 

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure. 

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell. 

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates. 

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt. 

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night. 

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?” 

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.” 

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...” 

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked. 

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.” 

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated. 

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.” 

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.” 

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!” 

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said. 

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa. 

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense. 

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.” 

“How’s that possible?” he asked. 

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you. 

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.  

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.” 

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.” 

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years. 

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird. 

But you also kind of didn’t care. 

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?” 

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked. 

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down. 

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?” 

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in. 

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. 

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him. 

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point. 

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”  

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him. 

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt. 

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind. 

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations. 

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?” 

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on. 

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were. 

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.” 

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth. 

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations. 

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.” 

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue. 

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…” 

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them. 

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him,  meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer. 

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry. 

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression. 

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.” 

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him. 

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.” 

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats. 

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.” 

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked. 

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you. 

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips. 

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to. 

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?” 

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try. 

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you. 

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?” 

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.” 

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?” 

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.” 

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…” 

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear. 

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.” 

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you. 

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips. 

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.” 

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered. 

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.” 

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss. 

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch. 

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream.  “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?” 

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.” 

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.” 

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.” 

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name. 

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.” 

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…” 

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever. 

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.” 

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“ 

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.” 

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.” 

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.” 

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.” 

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again. 

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you. 

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts.  “Hey, ___?” He called. 

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

[ladykissingfish]

Akatsuki texting style hc?

Texting/Talking with the Akatsuki

Kakuzu

Doesn’t really understand modern technology; can barely make phone calls, let alone text. The others have each taken the time to try and teach the old dog this particular trick, but it doesn’t carry much weight with him. The other get annoyed with him because he always insists on calling rather than shooting off a text, which can be very inconvenient when one is trying to save time (and words). When calling isn’t a possibility, he’ll squint angrily at his phone (which is, undoubtedly, a flip phone) and type out a text in painstaking detail. Is the type to type out entire sentences, with proper grammar and punctuation and everything. Thinks things like emojis or gifs are stupid and childish, and refuses to use them.

Hidan

Unless you’re on his priority list, Hidan will take approximately ten thousand years to text somebody back. His most impressive non-text was him responding to “do you like spicy food?” with “not really” … five years later. When he does text, his messages are very short and sweet, using mostly abbreviations or emojis to get his point across … except when he’s angry. When that happens, he’ll type out complete sentences, in all caps, and fill up half a page with question and/or exclamation marks. These texts are rife with spelling errors, as his fingers move at the speed of light when he’s upset, and he’s not the most grammar-conscious to begin with. The most likely of the group to send a “u up?” text but instead of talking about sex, it’s him lecturing the person on why they should convert to his religion.

Deidara

Texting with him is like reading a short story every time you get a message. Or, make that messages. Anytime he has something to say, he’ll send his thoughts in multiple short paragraphs, in rapid succession, until the receiving party has a book’s worth of messages to read through. Also the type to text back ridiculously fast, like two seconds after someone texts him. Never capitalizes anything, not even names. Likes emojis but doesn’t use them often because he has trouble finding things that express exactly how he feels. If he’s close to the person he’s texting, will send them countless pictures all day of himself making goofy faces. Also the type to take pictures of things like the sky or trees, send to someone, then ask which picture looks “more artistic”, even though the pictures are pretty much the same.

Sasori

Is a bit like Kakuzu in that he doesn’t find texting to be in anyway enjoyable, but is significantly better at it than the old man. Most likely to Like or Dislike a message rather than respond with actual words. When he does use words, it’s mostly one or two word responses like “ok” or “yeah” or “sounds good”. Also the type to send links to medical studies or articles that he finds interesting … although the receiver rarely does. Also, if he takes the time out of his day to send someone a message, he expects a speedy response; he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, after all.

Tobi/Obito

As Tobi, this guy is all about emojis, gifs, pictures, links to YouTube videos .. anyone sending a message to him or getting one in response shouldn’t expect conversations to be of a serious nature at all. As Obito, this is the guy who will send deep philosophical questions or thoughts at 3 in the morning, then be genuinely hurt that whoever he sent it to didn’t respond right away … even though they were likely asleep. Obito is also the type to start group chats adding together people that don’t normally get along in person, and his pointed questions usually end up getting him blocked or muted by one or two people. Is also a huge gossip with those that are closest to him, and will very often “spill the tea” with Deidara or Konan about things he’s seen and heard throughout the week.

Konan

Konan is a very tough young woman, and often has difficulties expressing things like sadness or vulnerability around others. Texting is the perfect outlet for her to truly be herself, and she’s able to convey her thoughts and feelings through texts. The type to send lengthy paragraphs rather than short messages, and whatever she sends always hits deep with the person who receives it. Konan is also a great text-buddy for watching movies, as she and a friend can both be in separate places, watching the same thing, and fill up each other’s phones with funny observations about whatever they’re watching. Doesn’t really like selfies (she’s very self conscious about her looks, for some inane reason) but will send one if asked, which will always be breathtakingly gorgeous.

Pein

Prefers texting to any other type of communication. Texting is an easy way for this leader to get out fine-tuned messages to multiple people at once. Rarely sends one on one messages because he’d rather hit up everyone at once in a group chat. Types out full, grammatically correct sentences every single time. Has no clue what stuff like LOL or SMH means, and even though the others sometimes respond with things like this, is too stubborn to ask someone what they mean. Can’t take or send a decent picture to save his life; all of his images are blurry and out of focus. A surprising sentimental type though; the screensaver on his phone is a picture of all the Akatsuki together.

Zetsu

This guy never texts unless he’s sending pictures of some “wonderful” thing he saw in nature. But the problem is, Zetsu thinks literally everything is wonderful. His friends phones will be bombarded with pictures of squirrels and spiderwebs and tree leaves and birds and anything else he thought was worthy of a snap. Yet despite the boring (to some) subject matter, everyone has to admit that Zetsu takes professional-grade pictures of whatever he clicks at, and is always the one asked to take the pictures at formal events. Sends a lot of messages out, but is like Hidan in that it takes him forever to respond to things sent to him.

Itachi

It would be more likely for one to see the moon fall out of the sky and into the ocean than it would be to get a text from Itachi. He’s like Kakuzu in that he prefers calling, although not for a reason of convenience. Itachi often feels that technology has split people further apart than ever, and finds most forms of technological communication to be cold and impersonal. If he has something to say to you, he’d rather say it directly to your face, not through the screen of a phone. When speaking in-person isn’t an option, then he chooses to call — but he warned, no conversation with the brunette is a short one. Someone could ask him about the weather and end up having a three hour long conversation about different cooking styles of the world. But no matter the topic, whoever Itachi calls will have a hard time hanging up, as Itachi’s voice is almost hypnotic in its soothing quality.

Kisame

Kisame gets more texts than anybody because he’s the friendliest and most accessible of the group. 2am and can’t sleep? Text Kisame. Need help thinking of what to make/where to go for dinner? Text Kisame. A breakup? Trouble with classes? Health scares? That’s right, text Kisame. Kisame takes a long time to respond to messages; not because he doesn’t care or is being rude, but because he takes every question or comment he gets very seriously, and wants to give himself adequate time to give the best possible response. Doesn’t use many emojis; he feels offended that the people emojis don’t offer blue skin tones. As he’s the one that most others text to solve problems, it’s very unexpected when he texts someone with a problem of his own. When this happens, that person will break their neck trying to find a solution to appease the gentle giant, which Kisame is very grateful for.

[haechanokeh]

[teaser] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

pairing: popular college! mark x average! reader

genre: romance, smut, angst, series.

warning (general): corruption, oral sex (both receiving and giving), cream pie, rough sex, mention of religion, rough sex, self-esteem, public sex, sub! reader, sex toys. possessive mark two-faced mark, psychology

you cried your eyes out, face shoved in your pillow and muffling your sobs. you didn't who told you those words, it was mark but he's not the same guy you fell in love with and the guy you said yes with today. your phone was ringing nonstop so you have to turn it off but mark was too eager so he's now in front of your house banging and shouting your name begging you to open the door and talk to him.

what he told you was possible, that they didn't care for you and you have to admit that it stings but his words are not responsible for your vulnerability right now, it was the unknown mark. you didn't like him just because he's kind, it was just one out of the nth god knows the reason why you love him. he made you so special, he was right that he's the only person who cared about you in your class but the unfamiliar mark you saw a couple of hours ago was scary. it gave you goosebumps, you were frightened it's as if anytime he will hurt you.

you heard a hard stomp inside your room and you quickly sat up and surprisingly it was mark inside your room who entered the room through your open window.

"fuck, y/n." he ran into you and pulled you up into his arms. "I'm so sorry, this will never happen again." he whispered and caressed your hair. "i will not let lucas and my friends break us, shhh i am truly sorry. you only need me, so don't worry."

your body froze in shock and your heart beating so fast. he's not sorry.

"what..." you whispered in disbelief, you can't understand why he can't understand that he's wrong as well.

"we're okay now right? let's just forget everything, y/n... hmmm?" he looked at your face and looked into your eyes but he saw nothing but unpleasant. he felt rage rushing in his whole system. "what do you want! i already apologize!" he squeezed your jaw.

you were shaking in fear as his loud voice boomed in your room. his nose was flaring, his eyes were dripped with spite, and his chest where heaving. he's so mad at you and you're scared and confused.

that's when you realize, there's something wrong with him.

"m-mark, you're hurting me." you sobbed. mark snapped out of his senses. he quickly removed his hands from you and embraced you.

"I'm sorry." he sincerely said and kissed your cheeks and shove his face against it. "I'm so sorry, please don't leave me." he kept on apologizing non-stop. his hands were trembling you could feel it as he was clutching your arms.

"mark? mark?" you panicked. "mark? are you okay?" your fear from him vanished and changed into a concern to him. this is not normal.

you tried to get away from his arms but he's not budging, you stopped wriggling when you heard him whimper.

"don't leave me, can't. i really can't, i will lose myself." he begged like he's close to hopelessness. you gently pushed him to look at his face. your heart was stabbed when you saw how vulnerable he looked.

"mark..." you voice broke, you really don't know what to say because this is your first time to see him like this.

this is why mark never pursues someone or something he likes, he became possessive in fear that it will slip away from him, like his friends' admiration and respects towards him, the trust from his parents, and how they look at him as the perfect son, the people's respect on him because of his kindness and intellect, and his high grades- all of these are his goals and obsession but you're different. he can confidently allow these to get away from him in exchange of not losing you. you become his obsession. mark is aware that he has a problem but doesn't want to admit it and keep on insisting that this is part of his life... when it is not. everything about it is not normal, because when he faces rejection he felt anguish, loss, stress, and anger. there was a point where he tried to consider hurting and taking his life but he was taught that this is a grave sin and again, he felt disappointed that he is thinking of doing a grave sin which added made it worse to his anxiety. 3 years ago, he talked to his psychologist professor and was diagnosed with depression and attachment disorganized anxiety. he only attends one counseling session because he couldn't accept that there's something wrong with him and if people will find out about this he will lose all the respect.

ask him. you were pushing yourself to speak what's wrong? do you have a problem? you want to ask him but you became voiceless.

"mark, i want you to be honest to me okay?" your voice was shaking trying to control it from whimpering and tears rolling on your cheeks. "are you going through... something? do you want to talk about it?"

mark was spacing out while looking into your eyes but inside his head, it was in extreme chaos. he's having a second thoughts on telling that he has anxiety.

"mark, i love you so much but i need to understand you first so i know what to do and to make sure that you're receiving it. can you trust me?" you were convincing him and mark can see it through your eyes.

he gave up.

"i'm a mess." he broke down. mark's voice cracked and tears falling filled with hopelessness. you couldn't bare to see him like this so you pulled him into a passionate but slow kiss which he gladly responds.

you made him sit on your bed and straddle his hips, your hands were on both sides of his face and his hands were on the bed to support his body and your body. both of you where muffling your sobs.

"i was diagnosed depression and disorganized attachment anxiety" he confessed. you have no idea what is disorganized attachment anxiety, but you just understand that he has anxiety and depression, which was shocking.

mark lee, loved by everyone and religious boy have depression? that's when you realize, depression has no favoritism.

"how? you're..."

"when i was a kid, my parents are busy but i felt love every time they praise me and follow their lessons. i needed their praise and validation and i adopted it and became like... that and brought it until i grow up and to school. i never wanted to feel their disappointment and i never wanted to lose the respect of my parents, professors, and classmates but when i met you..." your eyes were locking with him. "you're the only thing i need and for the first time i never cared of losing it i thought i changed but i was wrong, nothing changed. i was just too possessive and obsess of you and when you told me you want to leave me..." his voice broke once again.

"it's going to be the end of me. it's been a long time since i felt rejected and i don't know what to do." he weeps and you felt weak.

mark has been your emotional support with fragile heart, you felt useless. instead of apologizing, you said the 3 words he always and shamelessly tells you.

"i love you." you pecked his lips. "i love you." your kissed it again and repeatedly do it while allowing the tears to fall.

he needs assurance that he is genuinely loved, which he is.

"mark, you are you still going to a psychiatrist?" making sure that he's managing it very well, but he shook his head. he needs help, someone who's more reliable. you hope that the next statement you will tell him will not take it as a bad thing. you rub his cheeks.

"you need to, aren't we pharmacists? aren't we push people to comply and adhere?" you smiled sadly.

"what will they think? my parents will be disappointed and sad at me, they will blame it to themselves, i know them y/n. and the people around me, they will think that i am fragile." you could see how frustrated he was.

"i thought you don't care about them anymore? i thought what matters is me? and what i think is that i love you and will love you more regardless of seeing one." you want to tell him that one day if you will do something wrong he might hurt himself or the people around him but you don't know if it's the right thing to say. this is why he needs to talk to a professional and you also need one because you can talk to them on what is the right thing to do to help mark and support him.

"if i do this you will never leave me?" you felt bad, now mark is now losing trust on you.

"if you do that, i am always right there with you." you kissed his forehead.

"and if i don't?"

"and if you don't..." you rest your forehead against his. "i am always with you."

you stared at each other for a long time sharing tons of emotion and you didn't know when it happened but both of you can't keep your hands to yourself. you're hovering over him touching him everywhere and his hands are all over your back.

you're grinding yourself hard on his pants, both of you panting but your lips never got separated, instead, it gets deeper. you pulled the hem of his pants and boxer. you pushed aside you shorts and sunk down to his length.

"fuck, that was hot." mark coulnd't help but blurt that out. you started to bounce, hands gripping his shoulders. he squeezed your breast underneath your shirt when suddenly the door clicked opened along with a women's gasp.

both of your heads turned towards the door's direction. it was your mom wearing his office uniform, holding a bowl with jaw-dropping in surprise. mark panicked, and so do you. you pulled mark's head and pulled it towards your breast, you want to gatekeep him.

"mom!" you shouted.

"i-i'm sorry I thought you look so down.. ohh..." you actually don't know what she just realized but she's nodding her head like now i get it "you have--"

"mom, get out!" she quickly closed the door.

"just so you know i will be here at 8, but if you want i can come here by 9! you can continue-"

"mom!" she made you feel embarrassed.

"my daughter has a boyfriend! finally!" she squealed as if the pigs finally learned how to fly. your mom thought this day wouldn't come but good lord your mom saw mark's face and at that moment she knew she needs mark's gene in her family tree.

"as much i loved your breast, i love to look at your face more." mark said. you release his head.

"my mom is just like that I'm sorry." you heard your mom honked. mark grinned and you gave him an apologetic look. "are you still in the mood?"

"i'm afraid i'm not anymore." mark chuckled. there's so much going on inside him plus he was slightly concerned what your mom thought of him. your mom caught him making with you but she seemed cool though but it was awkward.

"me too." deep down your blaming your mom.

you went back to class, you can't let mark skip[ another class again. you have to be a good influence. it was awkward but everyone already knows that you're dating, there's no reason to hide it and might just embrace it. mark apologized to the whole class, he didn't tell them his condition but he told them that he's going through something. even though mark still thinks that they are just using him, though at first that's how you perceived them but that really changed, for you it was a genuine friendship, they were so forgiving and i hope one day mark will accept that friendship.

since them, things went good though not perfect. his parents blamed themselves but you told them that that's the reason why mark didn't want to tell it to them, instead of continuing blaming themselves, they will give them all the love and support. mark never missed a session and you never missed going with him also.

and for the first time, you went to their church and the pastor is mark's father. you thought it was going to be like a normal day but...

"mark..." you sighed when he increased the intensity of the vibrator that he slipped while his father preaching. the front seats were occupied while you and mark are the only ones seating at the back.

you're squeezing and rubbing your thighs together, you felt so hot and wet. you badly want to moan, but that will be hard because you felt like once you moan, it will never stop.

"are you calling me love?" mark innocently asked you, he was saying that while putting the vibrator on max. you mouth opened while looking at mark's eyes. mark kept his smile while watching your orgasm face. he's doing unholy inside but worth it. he off the vibrator.

unfortunately all you can hear mark's father but can't understand it. you're still in ecstasy.

"my friends and family, it's not about finding the right person, it is becoming the right person, and if both partners think this way even the wrong shadows will be lighted by understanding. it's like saying i am the right person for the right person. tell this to your partner."

"i am the right person for the right person." mark whispered into your ears.

"hmm? what?" you weakly said. your eyes still closed. mark just chuckled and kissed your forehead.

"nothing." then put the vibrator to max.

"mark!" you screamed and everyone turned their heads towards you. you blood went down to your feet and nervously smile. "i- love your son sir..." you embarrassingly confessed. mark was trying to suppress his laugh while the people around you awed.

"and that's an example of my preach today."

you glared at mark, he just grinned and kiss your love.

"i love you too." he said.

"i want to smack you in the head." you angrily said. he just laughed.

this is going to be the last chapter. sorry for waiting to much, BUT there's a BONUS chapter there's no story on that just pure 🥵

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[interact-if]

Taking the spotlight for Day 6... Lucirene!

Lucirene, author of An Angel’s Song

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

In the forest of Bres an otherworldly sickness corrodes the soil and changes the creatures within. “A parting gift from the fallen angels”  say the citizens of the Hyaku Region and the mark on your hand confirms it.

Though the scent travelling in the air is sweet and enticing everyone knows better than to get closer. But the mark, it pulses, it burns, the pain spreading as fast as the corruption of the forest does.

Your masters are calling, and it seems like this time you cannot escape them.

An Angel’s Song Demo | Author’s Ko-fi | Author’s Patreon | Read more [here]

Tags: dark fantasy, romance

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

I have so many, but the only one public is An Angel’s Song. It’s, more than anything, a story about grief, loneliness and overcoming it all while navigating a hostile environment and discovering long lost secrets about the Divine and about the MC’s country. That one is very cathartic for me to make because of the themes, I feel like I’m working through a lot of feelings I didn’t even realize I had by writing it.

The next one is also an IF and it focuses on comedy, adventure and character interaction. It’s supposed to be more lighthearted, more fun, but knowing me… I don’t know if it’ll stay that way. Basically, it goes: A Captain’s boat falls prey to the storms and the strange creatures living under the sea, and they and their crew end up washing ashore an icy, snowy country. I already have the main cast written down and they have so much synergy, it’s amazing.

And the last one I’ll talk about (a traditional novel) actually happens in the same setting as my second IF, but many, many years before, when their local deity/guardian was born. It’s more of a romance-fantasy than anything, a love story between a Goddess and a half-dragon, however it also showcases many of the situations the people had to navigate and face before their country could become the place you’ll see in my second IF.

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

What I like most definitely is how much freedom we have as authors. Of course, one is constrained by one’s ability to code but I think, for the most part, we can do so many things, reach an entirely new level of immersion that would not be possible with a regular novel. It’s amazing how sometimes I’m reading something and get so into it, feel so connected to the MC I feel dread when they do, panic when they have to make a choice that will clearly impact a lot of people in their world. With IF you can really feel like you’re part of the story.

Another thing I like is being able to explore other paths with my writing. Like for example, what if the MC had done this instead of that? How would that have affected their relationships, their world state? Writing branches is a lot of work, especially because they could change so many things, but it feels oddly satisfying when you do decide to include them. 

Challenges… Coding, mainly. I feel like a lot of new aspiring IF authors are a bit afraid of coding and I can understand that, especially since, had it not been for the help of the community, I would have taken way longer to actually start using Twine. Hopefully with time for resources come up and it becomes less daunting.

I don’t know if any other author feels the same way but, though I think branching is a blessing, it is also a curse. I can only write the same conversation so many times, I mean I know I’m writing it in different tones and sometimes with different results but it gets frustrating after a while because it feels like you’re stuck, like you’re not progressing at all.

Another one would definitely be finding a balance between reader interaction and just following your vision. Since it’s IF at times I feel like I have to meet a quota of branches or ways in which you can react, sometimes I also find it difficult to make the MC feel like a real person instead of a reader-insert. I’m working on that.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

That’s a difficult one… I don’t know if I would consider it weird but I do tend to investigate a lot about fashion, especially when designing the main outfits of the characters. I spend hours trying to find out what colors were used back then, what they meant, who was allowed to use them. I have this little image with some palettes for kimonos depending on the season.

I also spend too much time coming up with names, especially for places. Like I look up names of places that already exist, what they mean, I try to investigate if the words that I want to use make sense, then I panic because I can’t find anything, but I think that’s usual for writers. I also spent more time than necessary researching for the name of a tree that you will see way later in the book, which no one will probably notice what the name of the tree means or what it symbolizes but it makes me happy.

Honestly, I feel like the amount of research I have had to do has not been particularly weird? If anything at times I think I should research more, even if some aspects of Japanese culture will not apply to Kyou.

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

The initial version of the MC from An Angel’s Song, which I miss dearly since they had more personality. They were autistic coded too, and I hope some traces of that still remain. Apart from that I feel like all of the characters from the main cast share something with me, even if their experiences are, of course, more dramatic than my own.

A lot of them have issues with a paternal figure or an absent mother, which also resonates with me. Some of Saori’s traits draw inspiration from ways in which I talked or acted before I became a little better at masking, before I became more self-aware. Hazuki being emotional and caring, K being a bit clingy but devoted, Masa having a temper yet loyal, Miwa being friendly but reluctant to open up beyond surface level information. I think those things describe me.

There’s also Rei but I don’t think I’m writing her book anytime soon. She’s someone that’s very family oriented, she’s a bit temperamental but she means well and she’s not afraid to speak her mind. Now that I think about it, maybe Rei is more the person I want to become.

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

I’ve been living in Venezuela my whole life so I think so, even if most of the time I don’t even notice it. I believe that this happens especially in regards to relationships because people in Venezuela are very family oriented and also, from what I’ve experienced, they form strong bonds with their neighbors, which creates this strong sense of community —sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t, but my mom and her friends always make at least some friends in their neighborhoods and they gossip with some coffee about the happenings of the rest—. So when it comes to writing a character it is very important to me to make an emphasis on family relationships because those are a strong part of my culture, of my identity. 

In An Angel’s Song you have the main cast having issues or conflicting emotions about one or multiple members of their family, which influence their behavior and their outlook on life, but for the most part they are (or will be) able to form similar relationships with people that are not related to them, or to work towards restoring that relationship, transforming it into something healthier. 

In my other books family dynamics are also immensely important. For example, I’m going to mention Rei again because I love her. So, Rei has a sister named Rin, and they are both very close, even if they haven’t spent much time together. Their bond and trust in each other helps them overcome a lot of obstacles and they rely on each other when they need support or encouragement. Rei also has other people that she thinks of as siblings, and restoring that relationship with them is one of her main goals. There’s also this recurring guilt she feels at leaving her birth family and her home to explore, because to her, families are supposed to stay together.

Another aspect that I think influences my writing is religion, even if I wasn’t raised in a particularly religious household nor do I belong to any religion. Religion is a big deal in this country, we have so many events and holidays relating to religious figures. I remember when I was very young I loved going to one of the churches here because the Virgin of that town had a building filled with pretty clothes to dress her with. 

So, in that vein, I try to think about the character’s relationship with religion, do they believe in the Gods? Do they trust them? Do they follow local deities or prefer the main pantheon? How does this religion shape the way people interact with each other and the world? In regards to characters that are Venezuelan or Venezuelan-coded… I do have a few that are Venezuelan, but I don’t think I’m going to be releasing their stories soon, so I’ll keep it quiet for now.

Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

People being passionate about their work! This isn’t something exclusive to IF, but it is something that I love seeing. I also like seeing the different ways people innovate within the genre. I feel like sometimes, especially with newer writers, there is this idea that an IF has to subscribe to a specific format and that’s simply not true. If you don’t want to use a stat system you don’t have to, if you want to add combat then go ahead, if you would prefer to write an MC that’s already pretty pre-established (which is something that I personally want to try) then there’s nothing stopping you and I encourage you to give it a go. IF is very versatile and it’s wrong to try and fit authors into a box, especially if they want to bring something new into our little corner of the internet.

Q7: Any advice to give?

In general, I advise people to have fun writing, to not worry so much about how good it is, about if people will like it. Writing, at the end of the day, ends up being a pretty solitary activity and having those thoughts in your head too long will make you spiral. Be kind to yourself, be open to feedback when it comes (and learn to distinguish constructive feedback from destructive feedback) and enjoy the exploration of your world and characters. 

You are not alone in all of this. If you can, join a group of writers you can talk with, exchange ideas, get feedback from or just exchange memes (the ultimate bonding experience). Don’t be afraid, you’re not alone.

[ts-waywardchildren-au]

Wings

so I finally got tumblr to stop being a bitch and let me post the full thing!

AO3 link

taglist: @theimprobabledreamersworld

Word count: 4330

TW: mentions of religion/church, mentions of alcohol, shouting, implied homophobia, implied past transphobia.

    Anyone who knew Mr. and Mrs. Harte would quickly realize that, if there was any couple in the world who should not raise children, it was them. 

Mr. Harte was, in the nicest way possible, both a workaholic and an alcoholic, despite his preaching that the Bible should be followed to the letter, which meant every time he opened a bottle he sinned. But, of course, the bible applied only to other men. 

Mrs. Harte was what most would call a busy-body who cared much more about her appearance to her neighbors than she did children. She was the kind of woman who everyone only pretended to like but then gossiped about her behind her back. Despite her insistence that she was the most important woman in the world, she made none of her own choices, only followed the latest beauty trends, and did as her husband said. 

This is why, when the Hartes decided to have children, everyone was slightly concerned, to say the least.

    The Hartes saw children as vessels for the parent’s ambitions, as dolls to dress up or as little creatures to be trained to impress friends and family. Ten years later, their only child Patton was none of these things. He was not a prim and proper girl like Mrs. Harte had wanted, nor was he the kind of boy who played every sport known to man. 

    Patton was the kind of child who would prefer to play in the dirt rather than keep the tiny suits his mother had picked out for Sunday church perfectly spotless, the kind of child who would rather chase dragonflies across the soccer field than kick the ball. The kind of child, who, among other things, wanted nothing but to play with his friends and to ride on his father’s shoulders, and to bake cookies with his mother. 

    But Patton was also the kind of child who never got to do these things. This is perhaps the reason why, when he saw a door in the trunk of a tree, did not immediately run back to the park where the church kids played. He had organized a game of hide and seek with the other children, and while the other children could be quite dull, none could pass up a game of hide and seek, not even the older kids. 

    He wiggled out from his hiding place from under the bushes and tiptoed towards the tree trunk-door that should not be there. He turned his head to the side, looking at the door from all angles. Up and down, side to side, inspecting every inch before raising a hand to knock on the gray wood. One, two, three taps, and the door creaked open. Where one would expect to see the inside of a tree, there was instead a hallway. 

    Figuring that inside a tree would be an even better hiding spot than under a bush, Patton stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Unseen light sources allowed Patton to see as he walked away from the door. Had he looked back, he might have noticed that where the door should have been was a blank wall with not even a crack to suggest an opening. But Patton did not look back- he just kept walking, his footsteps echoing on the floor of wood paneling until he came to a staircase going upwards. 

    There, on the first step, someone had planted a sign. 

    “Be sure,” Patton read aloud. “Be sure… of what? I’m sure this is a very good hiding place!”

    He had a habit of talking to himself, something his parents very much did not approve of, and it was through his conversation with himself that Patton deduced that he must be quite sure that he wouldn’t be found. Had he known how correct he was, perhaps he might not have gone up the stairs. But Patton was ten years old and had a sense of adventure, so he began to climb. 

    The stairs seemed to go on forever, spiraling upwards without end. But as soon as he thought about giving up and going back down, Patton saw the end of the stairs. 

    “Hello?” Patton called out from the top stair. It only now occurred to him that this could be someone’s house he just walked into!

    There was no reply, and Patton stepped off the stairs onto the landing. It didn’t seem like anyone’s house, because Patton couldn’t think of any houses that had no roof or walls! The floor of the not-house seemed to be… tree bark? Patton looked up and saw the sky, bright blue and cloudless. He didn’t know it at the time, but the sweetness in the air was the lack of pollution and car exhaust, and his ears had stopped ringing because there wasn’t the constant noise of cars. It was so quiet… so pretty! 

    “Young man, what are you doing up here?”

    Patton let out a small squeak of surprise and turned to face the adult who had walked up behind him. 

    “Oh- um- I- I’m sorry, ma’am- I found a door and I was playing hide and seek, and I walked up the stairs, and now I’m talking to you, and- I- um, I’m sorry!”

    “Oh!” The adult’s face softened from the glare she had before Patton stuttered out an apology. “It’s quite alright. What’s your name?”

    “I’m Patton! Um… is this your house?”

    “You could say that. So, Patton, are you sure?”

    Patton didn’t understand what he was supposed to be sure about, so he did what all children would do: say yes and hope there weren’t consequences. 

    At his affirmation that he was sure (even though he was not), the adult clapped her hands and smiled. As she moved towards Patton, he saw what made this adult so unlike the rest of the adults that he knew. 

    “Why do you have wings?”

“I’ve earned them. And someday, Patton, you will too.”

That answer only slightly satisfied Patton, but it was good enough for now- even a ten-year-old realized that he wouldn’t be getting any further clarification anytime soon. 

“How do I get them?”

“Well, Patton,” the adult turned her back and beckoned Patton to follow her. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I am!” 

That was the first time Patton had felt sure, though he didn't know what it was for- he only knew that he was sure he wanted answers, sure that he wanted wings! The other children would want to be friends with him then, right? 

“Very good. Now stand here, beside me.”

Patton did as he was told, and for the first time got a good look at the new, strange adult. She was tall, taller than his mother, with long silky black hair that Patton thought looked quite like one of the ties his father wore to work- straight and shiny. 

Patton had been told, like all children, about stranger danger, but this adult… Patton didn't know why, but he knew that he would be safe with her. 

“Take my hand, Patton, and don’t let go, alright?”

Patton nodded and gripped tightly, something his mother would have scolded him for. But neither his mother nor father was here to tell him off, and Patton knew that as long as he didn't cause too much trouble, nothing bad would happen. 

    Before Patton could ask what was going to happen, the ground was far beneath him and the adult. He let out a shriek but remembered to hold on to her hand and not let go. He kicked his feet, searching for solid ground.

    The wind rushed past his ears, tangling his hair, making his eyes water. 

    Every time the adult flapped her gigantic wings the noise of hundreds of feathers made his ears ring with the thunderous movements. 

    But… his curiosity overtook his fear. Would he get wings like that?

    Wings like the birds he saw in the park? Or maybe like the dragonflies in his garden? Maybe like the colorful butterflies that he always attempted to coax onto his finger? Or perhaps the black and red ladybugs he liked to let crawl all over his fingers?

    As suddenly as the ground had left from beneath him, Patton stood upright once again, this time on the greenest grass he had ever seen.

    “This is my home, Patton. You may stay here for as long as you wish.” The adult gestured to a ladder hanging from a tree branch, connections to something obscured by the dark green leaves that were as big as Patton himself. 

    “Oh! Thanks! Um, what should I call you?”

    “You may call me whatever you wish, but my name is Noelani.”

    “Okay! Thank you, Miss N!”

    ***

Over the years, Miss N became Miss Noelani, which simply became Noelani, who became Patton’s friend. 

And over the years, Patton sprouted his wings- they had come through small and itchy at first, and he was unused to the new weight on his back. His feathers had grown in, small and fluffy at first but becoming larger and sleeker and his wings grew. He had been in this world, the one he began to call home, for almost two years when he could finally fly on his own. Noelani had taught him, by coaxing him to jump off tree branches and trust he would catch himself. He had been afraid, at first, even terrified. But Now?

Now he flew everywhere, stretching his arms in the wind, laughing as he let the air blow through his feathers, grinning as he plummeted towards the ground and caught himself at the last second. 

There were contests held every full moon, and Patton had competed in them for as long as he had been able to fly. He had started wobbly, unsure, but once he grew into his wings?

He was unbeatable. He was the best flier there was, darting in between trees and taking sharper turns than any others dared to. 

The cheers of the audience fueled him to go faster, faster, faster! He stretched a handout, reaching for the finish line. 

“Come on, Chick!” Noelani’s shouts of encouragement could be heard over everyone else’s cheering. 

A burst of speed and Patton flew ahead of the other competitors by a full wing length, stopping only when he landed on the branch behind the finish line. The wingbeats of other races still hadn’t stopped, though one by one they joined Patton on the branch. When the last competitor landed, everyone began to give their congratulations. 

“Good race! That was close!” Patton smiled at the second-place finisher, who in turn shook his hand. 

“Maybe I’ll beat you next time, Pat!”

“You can certainly try!”

“Chick! You were amazing!”

Patton turned to see Noelani coming through the small crowd, a grin on her face. Her hair was shorter than when Patton had first met her, and the feathers on her jet black wings had dulled, but her smile was still the same. 

“You know, when I was your age-” Noelani was cut off by Patton’s laugh. She glared and continued. “When I was your age, I could never have done that!”

She took Patton into a hug and handed him a towel when she pulled away. “You’re so sweaty! Gross!”

“It’s not that bad!” Patton wiped his forehead and grimaced, “Okay, maybe it is that bad.”

“Come on, Chick! Clean up and I’ll get you some food.” 

Patton nodded and turned back to the other racers, giving them a final grin before leaving.

“Hey! Patton! Wait!”

He turned around to see the second-place finisher running towards him. 

“Here, I wanted to give you this.” He handed Patton a small pastry. “I made it myself. Don’t eat it yet, save it for when you start to get sore.”

“Oh! Thanks! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!”

Patton slipped the pastry into his pocket and waved as he began to fly after Noelani, allowing himself to glide in the wind instead of frantically flapping his wings to propel himself even faster. 

It was only after a meal of freshly picked fruit and homemade bread that Patton remembered the pastry he had been given by the second-place finisher- what was his name? Something that began with a D… oh well, Patton would have to thank him later!

“Someone gave this to me,” Patton said as he took the pastry out of his pocket, several crumbs falling onto the table. “Would you like to split it?”

Noelani shook her head. “It’s yours.”

Patton nodded and took a bite, and immediately felt the tightness in his shoulders and wings disappear. He was always sore after a race, and usually was for a few days after that, but not anymore.  

    Before Patton could take another bite, Noelani gasped. 

    “Patton! Patton, you-”

    He looked at Noelani, and before she could make another sound, Patton let out a scream. 

    “I- 'm- I can’t see my hands- what’s happening to me!?”

    Noelani grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. “Patton, listen to me. Listen to me! Whatever happens, you can find your way back. You can find your way back, and I will be waiting here for you.”

    “But- I don’t want to leave! Noelani, what’s happening!? Noelani-!”

    One minute, Patton was holding tight to his friend and in her home, and the next he was surrounded by a pile of feathers on the asphalt of an old weathered playground, illuminated by glaring streetlights in the absence of the sun. 

    “No! No! Let me back… let me back!” Patton pounded his first against a tree, begging, pleading for a door to appear until his hands became bloody.

Crying, begging, pleading for a way home. 

A gust of wind began to blow through the park, and Patton began to frantically grab his feathers from dispersing in the gust. He wouldn’t let what was left of his home be scattered away from him. sand

With an armful of gray feathers and eyes full of salty tears, Patton began to walk to where he remembered his parents’ house to be, his bare feet leading him across the cold concrete sidewalks of the too-bright neighborhoods. 

He wondered briefly what someone would make of him, an unfamiliar teenager walking barefoot through the street, carrying nothing but a bundle of gigantic feathers and wearing a sky blue tunic with an open back. 

Already he missed his home, missed the familiar weight of his wings, missed the way Noelani’s feathers would tickle his cheeks when they hugged. 

He paused at the sidewalk leading up to the house where he had lived for the first ten years of life yet had never truly called home. His home would always be at Noelani’s nest, where he would spend hours leaping between branches to find the sweetest fruits, where he would chase after the crows and sparrows, could bake the perfect meals on top of a fireplace, where he could practice racing around her tree- 

He took a gasp of breath, and before doubts could creep into his mind, knocked at the door and winced as another cut on his fist opened up.

After a minute of waiting, he began to worry. What if his parents had moved away? Then where would he stay while he waited for his door to come back? Or what if they no longer remembered him? Though he had never called this place home, he still loved his mother and father! What would he do if he never got to say goodbye, to tell them where he was?

The door opened with a familiar creak.

“Patton?”

“Hi, dad!” Patton put on a smile, a performance for his family. 

“What- Patton!” His mother appeared behind his father and put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. “Where have you been? And- how- how do you look so much older-?”

“What do you mean? Mom, I’m sixteen and Noelani always said I had a baby face!” He chuckled, although laughter was the last thing on his mind.

“Patton, you’re twelve! You’ve been missing for two years!”

“Patton, come inside. Tell us everything you can. Should we call the police? Honey, I think we should call the police!” His father added. 

“The police? Why would you do that?” Patton tilted his head to the side in confusion, a habit he had picked up from the birds that he had befriended. 

“BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN MISSING FOR TWO YEARS! BECAUSE YOU LOOK SIXTEEN WHEN YOU SHOULD BE TWELVE!” 

His mother shouted and looked surprised at herself for being so loud. His father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the couch- a different couch than the one Patton remembered. This one was new, shiny leather, while the one he remembered had been soft red fabric. He felt his hair get staticky, and the feathers in his arm- which his mother seemed to just now notice, and wrinkled her nose at the sight of them- began to stick up. 

“Patton, tell us what happened. We care about you, son,” his father said gently. Patton didn’t know why, but the thought of being called ‘son’ brought out an emotion he didn’t like. So he did what he always did: ignored the feeling and began to talk. 

He talked about how he had been hiding and found the door that didn’t belong, how he walked through the hallway and climbed up the staircase, where Noelani had found him and taken him to her nest. He told them what Noelani had said, that the world was full of magic, that birds were the carriers and messengers of that magic, how the birds gave all humans wings so they could fly between the gigantic trees that held houses, or sometimes even cities. 

He told his parents about racing, and about the war he had always known he would have to fight to protect his home. He told them about the racing he did to distract himself from his visions of battles, the training he did so that when the war came, he would be able to protect his friends. 

And he told them about the last race he ever won, before fading away while pleading to stay with Noelani, to stay in his home, to stay in the world of birds and flight and magic and everything else he loved. The world where someone cared about him for who he was. 

When he finished his story, there was a beat of silence before his father spoke up. 

“Patton, I think you should get to sleep. We kept your bed in your room, and you can borrow some of my pajamas for the night. We can talk about this more in the morning.” 

And with that, Patton was sent up the familiar stairs to an unfamiliar room. Everything left in there was coated in a layer of dust- only a bookshelf with some stuffed animals and old books next to a bed he didn't remember being that small. Patton knew there should have been more things- toys strewn across the floor, a baby-blue rug, a lego set of a cat. His parents must have cleaned up while he was gone. 

He realized he still had his feathers in his arms. He dropped them to the floor and dragged the neatly made blanket off the bed, and began to build himself a sleeping nest like the one he had at home. 

When he was satisfied with his work, he lay down and covered himself in the largest feathers he had carried from the park- his dark gray flight feathers. 

It took him too long to fall asleep, but when he awoke and went downstairs, he found his father waiting for him. 

“Son,” he began. “I’ve done some research, and I think the best place for you to be is a boarding school. Thomas Sanders’ Home For Wayward Children. I heard he deals with… cases… such as yours.”

***

A week after the conversation that Patton had no say in, he found himself carrying a bag and a suitcase across a cobblestone pathway to an imposing, mansion-like structure where a man waited for him at the door. 

“You must be Patton, right?” The man asked, holding out his hand in greeting. 

“Yes, sir,” Patton replied, attempting to hide the fear in his voice. He hadn’t been with his parents in years, but he still remembered that any school he would be sent to was almost guaranteed to be one of religious teachings. 

The man waved him off. “No need for formalities, you can call me Thomas! Or Mr. Sanders, whichever you prefer. Now, Patton, may I ask what your world was like?”

“My- my world? Um, I go to church every Sunday and-“

“No, no! Not this world! The one you call home. Mine was one of the trees of every color, with the softest grass, and fairies hiding in every flower, dryads in every tree. And not the kind of fairies your parents likely despise! Oh- sorry, that was probably a little odd. Never mind that, tell me about your world!”

Thomas led Patton through the sturdy oak doors into the house- if it could be called that. From the outside, it looked like a single house had been built onto until it became a sprawling maze of living rooms, and the inside was even more confusing.

The entry hall alone had painted portraits that looked like they belonged in museums, not hung on wallpaper that looked like it was from the seventies. A crystal chandelier cast oddly shaped shadows across the multitude of doors that connected to the hall. 

“My world… my world was one where birds carried magic and gave it to any who they thought was worthy. I made friends there. Some were like me, humans who were given wings. Others were birds. Sparrows, crows, finches, ravens, robins… I loved them all. And- and I want to go back.”

“I understand, Patton. Almost everyone here wants to go back. It’s my job to try to help you and these other kids not be so homesick while we all wait for our doors.”

“Th- thank you. I haven’t been away from home for more than a week and I already miss it.”

“You will never miss home any less, but I hope the weight of missing it gets easier to carry. Now come on, let’s get you settled. I can-“

Thomas was cut off by a crash coming from what sounded to be far above their heads. He cringed and continued. “I need to go fix that. Ah, Nico can show you your room. Pryce, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, stop it! Nico!”

Thomas took off in a sprint through one of the doors, leaving Patton alone in the entry hall until another man came running in. 

“Hi, you must be Patton! I’m Nico. Nico Flores-Sanders. I help my husband around the school. I’ll show you to your room, and make sure Janus doesn't kill you,” he laughed and took Patton’s suitcase. 

“Uh, that was a joke, right?” Patton asked tentatively. 

“Mostly, yes. We did have to break up a fight between them and another student, though. To be fair, the other student was being, ah, quite a jerk.”

Patton nodded. Don’t be a jerk, and don’t start a fight. Those seemed like easy enough rules to follow. 

“Here, up this staircase and the first door on the right. If you get lost, you can always ask your roommate for directions. Somehow they were faster at learning their way around than I was!”

“You went here, too?”

“Yup! Though back in my day, it was called Eleanor West’s Home. She didn’t actually run this building, she ran one on the upper east coast. Thomas and I met when we were both in school, and when he took over, I helped him run it.”

“Oh! You two must be really good friends!”

Nico began to laugh, and Patton couldn’t understand what he had said that was so funny. 

“Ooo-Kay. Here’s your room. Janus! Your roommate is here!” 

Nico knocked, and Patton’s new roommate opened the door. 

“Uh, hi. I’m Patton.”

“Janus. They and them pronouns. If you call me he or she, I will break your knee.”

“Janus, what have we said about cryptic and threatening introductions? Please make Patton feel welcome,” Nico scolded.

Janus rolled their eyes and gestured with a gloved hand for Patton to come in. They waved at Nico, who gave a smile and closed the door. In the dim light, Patton could see the odd appearance of the person he’d be sharing a room with. 

Janus wore a black bowler hat, a bit of wavy brown hair sticking out of it and hanging in their eyes, which Patton could tell, even in the dark, were two different colors. The most startling thing about their appearance, though, was the scar that ran from their left eye down to their chin.

“That’s your bed, on that side. I hope you don’t mind the dark because the curtains stay closed at all times. I have a space heater, so if it gets too hot in here, I will move it but under no circumstances will I turn it off. And I meant what I said, if you use any pronouns for me besides they and them, I will not hesitate.”

Patton did not ask “hesitate to do what?” because he was pretty sure he knew the answer. However, he did ask, “why are your pronouns they/them?”

“I am non-binary. Neither a man nor woman. It falls under the transgender umbrella.”

Patton just nodded and thought for a minute. “Am I non-binary, too?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “You can be if you feel like it fits you.”

He began to unpack his suitcase and bag, putting his feathers on the bed and clothes in the dresser. He had refused to let anyone touch his feathers, his reminder that his home had really existed, that he wasn’t just making things up like his parents insisted that he was. When he was done making a proper nest on the floor with the pillows, blankets, and what was left of his wings, he turned to Janus.

“I’m Patton, and I think I’m non-binary, too. I went to a world where birds were magic and humans could get wings. And, um, thank you for not breaking my knees.”

That night, as Patton curled into his makeshift nest, he felt like she belonged somewhere for the first time since he had faded from Noelani’s hug. 

[andyet-here-we-are]

Head Over Feet

Words: 4,057 Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

A/N: Thanks @3tothe1 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart.

Additional Tags: Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia,  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but not that much angst etc so no worries, Fluff, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Geralt sings to Jaskier, mention of nightmares, Happy Ending

I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛

(P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt’s “Head Over Feet” cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we’re gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

***

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “Witchers don’t have feelings” his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

“Just keep your eyes open, please,” the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

“And w-what’s in it for me?” was Jaskier’s answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote  the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

“Keep your damn eyes open,”  Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”

“Promise..?” The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, “you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”

“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. You stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, honest? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.”  

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You…”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did,” was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn’t have to witness such a–  such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by even?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,” Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added:  “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a “Disappointed But Not Surprised” look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

“I’m sorry that I kinda overreacted before,” he had said. “Okay, not kinda. But I just… I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. “Having the voice of an angel probably helps,”  his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn’t even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying “I’ve written a song for you,” or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,” he assured himself and took a deep breath. “Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,” a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

“I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

 You treat me like I’m a damn prince

I’m not used to liking that

You ask how my day was”

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the “damn prince,” part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

 “You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault,” he sang, pointing at the bard while singing “it’s all your fault.”

 Geralt nodded at him like saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,” when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to him.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so… Jaskier.

“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You’re so much braver than I gave you credit for

That’s not lip service”

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

 He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

“You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

 You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had

Let’s be boyfriends

What are we waiting for?

What took me so long?”

 “Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally,“ he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think “What if I’m wrong?”

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally did accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant “suffering” “pain” and “sadness” in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

“Goodbye,” he had told him, “no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don’t know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But changing was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying “That’s a nice song,” or “I don’t hate it,” with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier’s feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: “I’m here if you wanna talk,” and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: “Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

“You know what they say,” Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache “one has to forget first to remember.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. “I was so wrong.”

“I need you,” he had thought, his hair dampening the other man’s trousers, “I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: “You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn’t say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “little hummingbird”  instead of just “bard” because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “hummingbird”, and he could swear that Jaskier’s eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “my little hummingbird” pretty soon.

“I’ve never felt this healthy before

I’ve never wanted something rational

I am aware now

I am aware now

 You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

 And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him.  

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but The Fishmonger’s Daughter is a great song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing ‘ba ba,’ and ‘ta-da-da’ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you…”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just…”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “this is real.”

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

“Can you just…”

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: “Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”

But he didn’t need to.

“Sure,” Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

“I’m here, you adorable, big snowman,” he would whisper afterwards. “I’m here.”

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously…

What took him so long..?

[johnseedfanclub]

microscope, mixtape, ufo, and parachute for Angel please!!

okay....This one’s quiiiiite lengthy sorry about that 😅😅😅

Thanks for the ask! ♥️

Hope y’all like this one~

microscope: zoom in – describe the little, insignificant details about an OC.

Angel loves Thai iced tea and sweet drinks! He only drinks coffee for the caffeine but doesn’t actually like coffee (he prefers his with a lot of sugar/flavoring to cover up the bitter coffee taste)

Angel wishes he could have a pet but is scared he might hurt them with his bad mood swings

He secretly loves and wants plushies. He also has an attachment to them but never admits it because he’s “too old” for them.

His type is brunette, charming, suave, rich/wealthy men (not literally but is a nice add on yk~) , with light colored eyes (coincidentally it sounds like John but he can’t stand him)

Actually acts out/badly for a bit of attention he usually does it for shits and giggles but does it to receive a reaction out of someone whether it be from the person he’s talking to or the audience watching

He actually wishes people gave him more affection and reassurance. He never truly knows how much his friends appreciate him an a lot of times he feels like they don’t much. He doesn’t tell them the truth though because he doesn’t want to come off as jealous, needy or as an “attention seeker”

Likes dressing feminine more than masculine. He absolutely HATES men’s clothing Hawaiian shirts, turtlenecks, tuxedos/formal wear are the only exceptions (he would pretend to like the boxes of men’s clothing he would receive from friends as gifts. Would never even wear them. Maybe once if he doesn’t want to hurt their feelings)

Canonically he is “blonde” but he’s actually a brunette (light brown hair) but likes to dye his hair blonde instead

ufo: identity! what are some key identifying qualities or traits of your OC(s)? how to they identify in regards to gender/sexuality?

Special Qualities: his personality. Angel has a very unique personality compared to everyone he knows. He has this funny, mean/sarcastic, chill vibe to him. He always teases and plays around with his friends, not to mention he’s quite blunt and honest with anyone (even more harsh to people who annoy him). And though he seems like a small angry chihuahua at times, he’s a real sweetheart to everyone. He is never afraid to try anything new, no matter now fucking crazy or dangerous it may be he’s totally down to do it. That’s why both Eden’s Gate and the Resistance fear

Good Traits: He’s comedic (even at the worst times or when you need it), is the best at throwing house parties (even at 30 years old), he can help you with any favor it doesn’t even matter what it is (almost impossible to ask him of something he can’t do), he’ll take care of you when you’re sick/hungover/injured/depressed/having a panic attack, he’s a great cook and willing to share whatever he makes with anyone (if there’s enough), and he’s always generous (a big gift giver)

Bad Traits: He can a bit overly aggressive/rude (sometimes accidentally), he’s bad at remembering/keeping tract of things (he knows everyone’s favorite animal but totally forgets their birthdays and/or names), tends to crack under too much (bad) pressure and become extremely aggressive or violent, holds in his true feelings and emotions, has really bad mood swings, can be easy to piss off, can be too loud (mouthed) at times

Sexuality: Gay (attracted to men)

Gender identity: depends on the way he dresses/his mood normally he prefers he/him/they/them but if he dresses more feminine (wears makeup, tight dresses, feminine accessories) you could call him by she/him, or even they/them. (No pronoun preferences when he cross dresses)

#squad: who’s friends with who? what are the squad dynamics like?

Angel has few friends outside Hope County. The main people he’s friends with are Mary May, Jerome, Staci Pratt, Sharky Boshaw, Hurk Drubman Jr, Adelaide, Faith Seed, the Angel Twins (Jeremiah and Isaiah), the Whitetails, and a few of the peggies of Eden’s Gate

The only squads that Angel are apart of are

Sharky + Hurk = The Bomb Squad

Peggies = Eden’s “Gays”

Angel, Sharky, and Hurk are like the best and worst pairing. They’re all sweet, funny, and humble but can be obnoxious and destructive as FUCK. Anytime they go somewhere to find/finish some mission. It always ends in them leaving a trail of either, fire, gunpowder, or an explosion of some sort (either vehicle, silo, bliss tank, or outpost/building). Don’t even ask or mention what they do for leisure time. More crazy stunts and tricks that could put any normal person with a normal brain in the ER in critical condition. And at the bar? Jesus Christ. They order enough alcohol to kill 5 men but somehow make it through the night. And if they aren’t drinking, they’re sure as hell smoking weed or whatever the fuck Sharky has been brewing in his trailer (it’s most likely a 50/50 chance that you’ll pass out or die from it). They’re definitely one crazy ass group, nothing you would ever even expect, not even out of a crazy...Hollywood...Michael Bay movie. A feminine Latino city gay, an old cheery bomb-rocket enthusiast, and a insane pyromaniac that has a warrant. There definitely isn’t a dull moment with these three. But...you’re good as gone if you’re stuck with them for more than 11 minutes.

Angel and the Eden’s “Gays” are a pretty decent sized group of 6 men (plus the Twins some days) that are the few queer men of Eden’s Gate. Originally they seemed quite closeted because of the cult’s religion and some of its rules. But with Angel around they soon became another loud, obnoxious group of men. Before the whole group was “founded” the original 6 peggies (including John Seed himself) didn’t like Angel at all because of how loud and “out” he seemed (not to mention the carelessness). But as Angel visited the bunkers more often (after he was kidnapped by John) they slowly grew fond of him. Angel would always do kind gestures to learn more about Eden’s followers by helping them with chores, tasks, bringing them food and treats from outside the compound (though he wasn’t supposed to), and even help them find comfort in their own troubles. Though Angel liked a lot of the members he really favored 6 different followers in particular Connor, Michael, Anthony, Jace, and Jefferey (those who were the first followers he interacted with). Now they’re known as Eden’s Gays troublemakers. They sneak out to the Spread Eagle to drink, host secret parties in Hope County, and smoke as well. There isn’t a moment where they aren’t breaking the cult’s rules. They’re the only group of peggies some of the resistance members trust mostly because Angel made a rule of not attacking or harming them and actually enjoy being around. They’re definitely always getting into trouble with both sides too, much like Angel, starting small fights during church/sermons, fooling around on the job, or going around Hope County not to attack the locals but pester the living shit out of them. They almost stop being violent mean peggies and instead just become this goofy comedic group of young men. (Fun Fact: the “Eden’s Gays” were actually a thing before the cult became hostile *during its first few years in Hope County* and John was mostly the “leader” of the crazy group)

mixtape: 5 songs that describe your OC(s) or songs they themselves would like.

Ohohohooooo~

(The possibilities are endless for this one so I’m sticking to a Baddie playlist he would listen to)

May I ~ Flo Mili

Literal Legend ~ Ayesha Erotica

Yikes ~ Nicki Minaj

I like it ~ Cardi B

Sway With Me ~ Saweetie & GALAXARA

parachute: who does your OC(s) trust the most? who makes them feel safe? who would they do absolutely anything for?

Missy (my U.S. Marshal oc), is one of the few people he trusts the most. During the time from when he was arrested to when he was released out of jail (and transferring to Hope County Jail), she was always like a mother figure to him. And though she was supposed to investigate Angel’s murder and drug charges, she treated him kindly and respect, instead of a criminal. Without Missy, Angel might as well been as good as dead since she was the one that helped him move to a psychiatric ward instead of federal prison after discovering who he really was. Even after he was released, Missy still treated him as if he was her own son. She allowed him to stay at her penthouse apartment when Angel told her his father had disown him and he had no where to go. She always cared about him, made sure he ate, drank water, took care of himself, and even helped him get a better mindset. Though Angel still teases Missy by calling her “Mama Bear (Missy)” or “Mother Goose (or hen)” he’s forever grateful she was always there for him.

[idv-murder-mystery-utopia]

💟

Alright, since this is a wildcard, its time to set a very unfortunate memory for our dearest little Novelist here :) I’m not going to be sorry in the slightest for tormenting her, but lets say her memory isn’t the greatest.

Lets see what went wrong with her in the past to make her this way, shall we?

TW/s: Death, occults, and sacrifices (rituals as well) will be mentioned in this memory. I’ll let you guess on what type of memory it is. Oh, and yes, this is involved with Adalyn- lets say this is her motive before an incident happened... (this will also have a recent memory, though the first will be lengthy. Hope you enjoy it! ♡)

     In the past, Adalyn had nothing to really say that went wrong in her life. She had never felt the need to change anything in her time and she felt... Happy in the past. However, things had changed when September came.

    There had been news that spread around that a group came, speaking of a religion they were in. They had convinced a few people that theirs is not as bad as others would think, but most have decided to steer clear from the danger.

    Adalyn was one of those people that didn't believe them. Who would when the risk is present? She wouldn't wish to join a shady group worshipping a God no one knows about. Instead, she did something she was well-known for by the town she lived in, and that was asking about with what the people think.

    Liana had helped her as well, deeming that she wanted to know what everyone thought about the religion. However, the replies they got were concerning and not the best. A handful of them were just neutral, but there were a few that went through the group and had been banished from said group.

    Well, that's how everyone had said, anyways.

    "There's always something off about that group and the religion they were involved- the eerie atmosphere and the odd seances they host... Its all to worship the Gods, but I doubt it."

    "My sister just joined to this group actually... But she ended up being a brainwashed cultist. Honestly, that's enough suspicion for me! I've seen how everyone reacted, so why would anyone in their right minds want to join the group?!"

    "I was just one of the recent visitors, and their volunteers... I can see that they're not even themselves. I don't know about you, but I doubt you want to join if you want to see that happen."

    All the replies seem to have one thing in common: doubt and denial. She had seen how some of the people reacted when she prodded the question to them, and their statements may be vague or shallow, but it helped her understand a bit on what the group entails in its masses.

    However, when she asked them on the requirements to join, they began to clam up and she can't seem to prod any answers from them. They did say it wasn't worth it, but...

    With a rough sigh, the girl grabbed a fistful of her hair and raked it out of her high ponytail. It frustrated her to no end, but she knew she was being a bit paranoid.

    "It'll be okay, sister- I'm sure the mayor can drive them off soon!"

    Liana knew Adalyn and her frustrations too well, and she was, indeed, the more stubborn one out of the two. Unlike her younger sister, the older had her temper and she refused to give in and stop being so stubborn with tasks.

    And she knew that this one is apart of those frustrations.

    "Come on, they just came in today... Let's hope they leave after, alright?"

    Adalyn glanced at her sister, before nodding with an aggravated sigh crossing from her lips.

    "Fine. I'm just... Ugh, my instincts are telling me to get through their case— I can't seem to crack on the requirements since someone sent me basic information about this cult months ago, Lia."

    "I know, but being frustrated wont solve anything. I know you, sister, and I know being frustrated won't solve anything."

    The younger sibling grabbed the letter that was addressed to the other, before placing it in Adalyn's hands.

    "Come on, you're stronger than this! We can solve it, and I know it!"

    But it is easier said than done.

                                                                ---

    Weeks had passed after the group's arrival, and it didn't seem like they'd be leaving anytime soon. She had watched as the others asked about the group and tried to join in which let them have a bigger amount of people following their every whim with no strings attached.

    And soon enough, almost half of the townsfolks have joined this seemingly blessed group and their religion. The only ones were the ex-volunteers, and the non-believers.

    Adalyn knew that something was definitely up with the town. The Mayor had said to help them (Adalyn and Liana were the known ones due to helping around the town in all its years), but after seeing what it is about, he couldn't do anything about it but he did say he'd check on the group and keep a more... Watchful eye on it.

    She would've reckon that the group was something different, but she didn't give too much thought into it. The mayor can settle it... Right?

    Nonetheless, there hadn't been much updates on their end, but the novelist found herself asking the staff and the others who joined about the religion itself just to get a shed of information behind it, though the most answers she got were... Cryptic at best.

    But not as bad as she anticipated.

    All the girl knew about the religion was that it had been up for centuries, and it was portrayed on worshipping God from what He has done till the end with His ancestors and such. She knew it was basically Christianity, but their words...

      Their words and reactions aren’t the best, and it gave her a bad impression. They look so dazed and convinced that it was good that they kept pressuring the poor novelist to join in as well. “You’ll fit in, dearest! Trust me!” one of them said to her, nudging her with a grin on their lips.

        Fit in? As if she’d believe that for a second. She knew too well that she never believed in a religion hosted by a small group or two, and she was wary to a fault. What would make them believe that she’d ever join? Was it from how unsuspecting she is? If it is, then that’s false. She’s already known to state her opinions, no matter if its controversial or not, so their claims are already false.

      God, it ticks her off when people can’t seem to understand when she’s making a valid point...

      However, she didn’t seem to understand on how people got influenced the longer they went to that group. Even her little sister is getting roped to them, and as much as she hated doubting Liana, she knew it won’t be long till something ever happens to her younger sister.

        And she’s not risking that possibility... At all.

                                                               ---

          Adalyn had seen everything from the group and their actions as well, though what she didn’t understood was their motive.

            That’s the only thing she was lacking: their motive.

            She didn’t knew what was going on, but she’s been staying at the side for months. Despite this, though, she has seen what’s happening from 10th of October.

            One by one, she’s seen the cases of the girls disappearing without a trace. No wills, no letters, no evidence- its almost as if they vanished out of thin air, and disappeared from the face of the Earth. And this caught the mayor’s attention, who begged asked her for help. She had told the mayor what she knows to a vague standpoint, so that he wouldn’t worry so much on what’s going on.

              He did agreed on her statement and her observation, though the one thing that set him off was the day the mayor’s daughter had disappeared a few weeks after.

              The mayor was angered and demanded answers when he realized that his daughter disappeared, whilst the novelist was struggling to get more information at the case at hand. Most people that she asked (who were now fully invested and involved in the cult) refused to answer her questions, or kept giving vague and ambiguous answers that set the girl off from even bothering with her line of questioning.

              However, as she tried to get more answers, she finally found where the mayor’s daughter was. Only, that the day and timing was not the greatest.

              October 22nd, and at exactly 3 in the morning did the leader summoned all of the people in the town. Believers and non-believers alike managed to get to the venue, and even the mayor himself came. The sisters were the last ones to arrive, though the moment they came, they found an unfortunate sight.

              In front of the church’s entrance, the leader (who was cloaked) had the daughter of the mayor in their hands, their voice booming loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Believers of God, I have our fitting sacrifice!” he stated proudly, with everyone cheering for said sacrifice in front of them. The daughter only cried and struggled, yelling, “Let me go! You guys are the worst!!”

              The mayor’s eyes widened as his stressed expression became a sneer, and he immediately yelled out, “That’s my daughter! Let her go!” whilst the man himself rushed up to the stage. However, the leader cackled and spoke loudly, “Disciples! Restrain him!”

              It was a wild ride as Adalyn saw how the man was restrained, with him yelling out to let his daughter go. Unfortunately, this reached up to deaf ears as the leader ended up sacrificing the poor girl to their ‘God’.

            Adalyn felt her blood run cold when she saw the girl was stripped off of her clothing, with the disciples hitting her using a whip hard enough to draw out blood from her wounds. Her screams only made the crowd roar, possibly because they seem to want her to be ‘baptized’ and accepted of the ‘Lord’.

              Of their Lord.

              The one that kicked the bucket for the mayor was the fact that his daughter was being hung on the cross, but instead of being upright, she was hung upside down and let the blood rush up to her head. Her blood curling screams died down as they began to hammer her hands and feet in place of the cross. But one thing that Adalyn knew, though...

              ... That day, the mayor snapped, and Adalyn knew that the town will never be the same.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 9

I've gotten multiple requests (and one threat) for a part 2 of the previous chapter, and since I did enjoy writing that AU and already had somewhat of an idea of how it would continue in my head, I'm gonna try to write one. I'm currently writing Day 23, which means I have several prompt days left I can try to stick it in. If that doesn't work, I'll either do a bonus chapter at the end, or repost that fic separately with the second part added.

This one's definitely another dark one. I may have gotten slightly carried away with the whump. So make sure you check the warnings before you read! There's a lot of them! I also may have gotten slightly carried away with the syntax of these aliens...haha. We've got a little bit of Shiro in here, but mainly it's Red who gets her turn in the spotlight with Keith.

Read on AO3

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Day 9 - “Take Me Instead”/Ritual Sacrifice

Fandom:  Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: human sacrifice, alien religion, a little bit of fantastic racism, non- consensual drug use, lots of non-consensual touching (not sexual), death mention, forced stripping (not sexual), nudity (not sexual), very vague references to child abuse if you squint, drowning, fire, burns, wrist cutting (not self-harm), blood, wishing for death (not actual suicide ideation)

Of all possible ways to be woken up, the sound of Shiro struggling to breathe was certainly not one of Keith’s favorites. He was on his feet the moment his groggy brain realized what he was hearing, but was immediately put into the same headlock that he could see his roommate for the night in. It wasn’t often that someone could get the jump on either one of them. Keith was going to blame the fact that the cowards had struck while they were asleep.

The cowards, in this case, were the Luktorians, a race that had seemed perfectly nice up until this moment. A bit odd, perhaps, and difficult to understand - Lance kept insisting they sounded like drunk Yoda - but peaceful. They had rather human-looking faces, offset by the various shades of blue skin they sported and the fact that they had impossibly long and skinny necks and four arms. It was those four arms that held him in place now, one around his neck, one across his chest and shoulders, and two latched onto his wrists.

“Shh. You Paladin calm yourself must. Harm no mean we you.”

“If you don’t mean us harm, then why are you attacking us in our sleep?” Keith growled.

The alien holding Shiro spoke up. “Need only have we of him. Sleep may you.”

“I don’t think so.” Keith attempted to lunge forward, but made it nowhere. “What do you need him for? You’re not taking anybody anywhere without some answers!”

A slight smile came over the pale blue alien’s face. “Come have you at a time perfect. The night tonight of the sacrifice great is.”

Keith’s brain stuck on one word out of that gibberish. “Wait, sacrifice? What do you mean, what sacrifice?”

The Luktorian behind him bent his long neck forward to look him in the face. “A sacrifice it is for enemies our protection from. Away keeps the Galra the goddess great and harm us others who would.”

“Okay, we can understand that,” Shiro finally broke in, though he seemed to still be struggling with the arm that was around his throat. “But, uh...that’s what Voltron is here to do. Right? We’re making an alliance with your people so that we can keep the Galra away. S-so...maybe you don’t need a sacrifice this time.”

A stormy look came over both the alien’s faces. “Claim do you the goddess great with equal to be?”

“N-no, no, that’s not what I was saying.” Keith was glad that Shiro knew at all what they were accusing, because he was lost, himself. “I’m just...thinking that perhaps your goddess is the one who brought us here. Perhaps she’s already protecting you, using Voltron.”

They seemed to consider this for a moment, and Keith held his breath. “Perhaps,” one answered at last. “Must make we if so the goddess great a sacrifice to thank.”

Keith let out a groan. There didn’t seem to be any way they were getting out of this one easily. But they still hadn’t actually heard what this sacrifice actually entailed, so maybe there was hope yet, though based on the late night choke hold he wasn’t counting on it.

Shiro seemed to be on the same train of thought. “So, um...what exactly do you need us...me...to do? How can I help?”

His captor smiled again, and Keith decided he did not like that look at all. “Quietly must come you prepared the altar for to be. Short running time is.”

Shiro paled visibly even in the dim lighting. “Right. So...I’m the sacrifice.”

Keith lunged again. “No! You’re not sacrificing him, I won’t let you!”

The Luktorian tipped his head to the side and regarded him as if he was a child. “Warrior strong the Paladin Black is and ties to the Galra has close. A candidate perfect is he.”

As Keith continued to struggle, Shiro did his best to lock eyes with him. “Keith, it’s okay. We’ll...we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay.”

“No, it’s not okay, Shiro!” He had one more thing to try. It was a long shot, and Shiro would hate him for it, but he had to try. “Listen. You want somebody with close ties to the Galra? Then take me.”

“Keith, no!”

He ignored the interruption and made direct eye contact with Shiro’s captor. “Shiro...the Black Paladin...has been hurt by the Galra just as much as your people have, maybe more. His ties to the Galra are like yours. But me…” He sucked in as deep a breath as he could. “I’m part Galra. I’m a warrior, too, and you can’t get any closer to the Galra than me without sacrificing a pure-blooded one. Take me.”

Silence fell as everyone stared at him. Keith stubbornly refused to meet Shiro’s gaze, not wanting to see the pain that would be there.

“The truth think you do tells he?”

“Mm, think I does he.”

A definitive nod. “The sacrifice be then shall the Paladin Red.”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to struggle and lunge. “No! No, I’ll do it, I’ll go with you! I’ll be your sacrifice, okay? Just leave him here, leave him alone!”

Keith gave him a tight half-smile. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”

The pale blue alien released his one arm from Shiro’s shoulders so that he could reach into his pocket and pull out a small vial. Popping it open with his thumb, he poured the powdery substance over his captive’s head. “Sleep.”

Immediately Shiro’s eyes dropped shut and his chin slammed into his chest. The Luktorian deposited him gently back onto his bed and threw the blanket back over his legs. “Wake not the others and he will morning until.”

Keith clenched his teeth. Guess that rules out the possibility of screaming and alerting everyone out in the hall.

The royal blue alien holding him moved his top two hands down to grip his upper arms, finally leaving his neck free. “Come. Prepare the altar you for must we. Fight or your mind change not do or back come will we the Paladin Black for.”

Right. Cooperate or lose Shiro. There wasn’t even a debate to be had. He would always, always protect Shiro anytime he had the chance. He was his brother, in everything but blood or law, and he had already been through far too much for someone so young. Don’t you think you dying will be hard for him? He quickly pushed that thought aside. Yes, it would, but not as much as suffering at the hands of more aliens would. Besides, the team needed its leader a lot more than it needed its hotheaded half-breed.

Keith didn’t pay very much attention to their trip through the many intersecting hallways, lost in his head. He only became aware of his surroundings again when they entered a long, narrow room that was lit by torches along the walls and smelled very strongly of something perfumy and definitely not from Earth. Several other Luktorians, all dressed in the same simple white shifts, stood with their hands clasped in front of them, waiting.

His escorts wasted no time in handing him over, holding a brief, whispered conversation with a periwinkle-skinned female before exiting. Periwinkle clapped her hands, and the two that now held his arms, Grey Blue and Sky Blue, pulled him further into the room. He wanted to resist. He wanted to fight and kick and bite and spit so, so badly. All the instincts that he had been cultivating since childhood were shouting in his ear that he should not be letting someone drag him around like this, that he was bound to get hurt soon, but he squashed them back down with one single word. Shiro.

That almost wasn’t enough once they got to the apparent designated spot and Grey and Sky swiftly began stripping him. The shirt was one thing, but when they went for his belt and pants he panicked. “Hey! No, wait, stop, what are you doing?”

Periwinkle appeared in front of him with one eyebrow arched. “Told was I that a sacrifice quiet, good would be you. A problem there is?”

Keith’s shoulders heaved with shaky breaths. For Shiro. For Shiro. For Shiro. “N-no. No...problem.”

“Good.”

The stripping began again immediately. Clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut, he sent his mind somewhere far, far away, somewhere that was bright and happy and no one was touching him without his consent. By the time he had finally gotten his mind occupied, he was stark naked and being prodded forward to the next checkpoint.

Paladin. Hurt?

No, Red. I’m...I’m okay.

More Luktorians were waiting for them around an oval-shaped pool of lavender water. As Keith was positioned at the very edge they began chanting something in low voices. He was too busy worrying about what was about to happen to him to try to decipher what they were saying, and with good reason, too. Almost as soon as the chanting began, a set of hands landed on his back and shoved.

Keith could swim, that wasn’t a problem. The pool wasn’t even deep enough to worry about needing to swim, anyway. But the liquid - probably not water, he now realized - was heavy, and pulled him down to the bottom with no chance of fighting his way up. More importantly, it was scalding. He just barely kept himself from opening his mouth and screaming as his skin burned.

An instant later, multiple hands grabbed his arms and yanked him back up into the cool air. He was in the midst of panting for breath and shaking from pain when he was assaulted again, this time with rough sponges that scoured every inch of his body. It was becoming harder and harder to detach himself from reality, and more tempting every moment to punch every single one of these aliens in the face and race back to the safety of his team.

But he couldn’t. He had to stay for Shiro.

Paladin! Come?

No, Red. Stay. You can’t come.

His toes gripped the edge of another pool, this one deep purple, and he at least knew what was coming. More chanting, another shove. This time it was like breaking through an icy lake, making all his muscles seize up instantly. When he was pulled out, he was shivering uncontrollably. 

The chanting continued as some kind of oil was poured from an intricately painted vase over his head, turning his already wet body slick and shiny. Lastly, Periwinkle produced a garland of pungent blue and purple flowers - the source of the perfumy smell - and set it carefully atop his hair.

“Ready the sacrifice is. Us let proceed.”

Just before the procession left the room, Grey and Sky wrapped a strip of silky fabric around his hips and knotted it on one side. Well, I’ll die with some of my dignity intact. At least there’s that.

The ceremony was apparently taking place in a cathedral-like space. Strange music was playing as they entered, with the Luktorians deep, humming voices singing along. Hundreds of them were gathered, their waving, bobbing heads almost looking like an ocean.

Directly in front of Keith and his parade was a steep set of stairs leading up to a platform. A Luktorian in heavy purple robes with the deepest blue skin he had seen so far stood at the top, looking down on them. They halted at the foot of the stairs. Deep Blue, probably a priest, was saying something, probably initiating the ceremony, but Keith’s heart was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to hear.

Forward again. Up the stairs - eleven total. Counting them kept his mind off of what was coming, even if it was only for a few seconds. Then they were at the top, and the priest was placing a hand on Keith’s head. Even after everything he had been through over the past hour, the touch still made him flinch.

More indecipherable words as his eyes zoned in on the stone structure looming in the background, oval shaped, like the pools. The altar. Already he could see orange coals glowing in the open space underneath it, and his breathing kicked into high gear. 

Of all the ways to die. The fact that it was idiotic and humiliating was bad enough, but now he knew he would die by fire. Just like his dad. Just like his nightmares since he was six.

For Shiro. For Shiro.

Grey and Sky dragged him forward. He was more resistant now, only because his body was momentarily winning over his mind, but no one seemed to care anymore. They lifted him off his feet, holding him up high and parallel to the ground for only a moment before lowering him down onto the metal grate. 

This time Keith did scream. The metal had been heating over the coals for who knew how long, and it seared into the bare skin of his back. While he was busy blinking back the tears that sprang to his eyes, straps were expertly tightened over his ankles, thighs, chest, biceps, and throat. His arms had been positioned out away from his body, resting in two troughs that angled down toward the lower part of the altar.

Paladin hurt. I come.

Red...Red no. You can’t. I have to do this...I have to.

A knife flashed in the light over his head and he jumped, jarring the burns on his back. Biting down on his lip, he let out a quiet whine.

I come! Paladin needs.

I...I do need you. But…if you want to help me, then get the others to try to wake their Paladins. You can’t save me until we make sure the others are safe. He didn’t expect it to actually work. Whatever substance the Luktorians had used was probably stronger than a mental bond. But at least maybe it would keep Red occupied, pull her away from having to listen to his panicked thoughts.

The priest was standing over his right side now, the knife he had glimpsed held aloft in his hand. “The sacrifice first now - the blood spilling of.”

Before Keith could think to react, it came swooping down and sliced deep into his wrist. He cried out through gritted teeth. As the priest circled to the other side, he twisted his head as best he could to look down at the damage and saw blood flowing rapidly over his hand and down the trough. A second later, his left wrist was cut open as well.

Already he was growing lightheaded and nauseous. As the priest faced the audience and droned on about who knows what, Keith let his eyes slip shut. 

I’m sorry, Shiro. I know you’re gonna be so angry and hurt when you wake up tomorrow. Just remember...I did it because I love you. You’re my brother.

“The sacrifice second now - the flesh burning of.”

His breath hitched and he pressed his lips together, trying not to make any more pathetic noises, but his rapid breathing gave away his terror. He could hear the clunk of wood echoing below him as more fuel was thrown in, and the crunch of coals being stirred. Mere seconds later, a flame flared, and he sobbed despite his efforts as it licked his already raw back. 

The Luktorians were chanting again, the whole assembly, and they sounded like a hive of bees in his ears. More flames jumped up, higher and higher. He was full-on weeping now, and he didn’t even care. It was so much worse than his nightmares had ever been. He could only hope now that it would consume him quickly, or that the blood loss would take him first.

Please...please just let me die…

Paladin! We come!

His eyes flew open just in time to see five beautiful, colorful Lions burst through the roof of the cathedral, mouths wide open in a chorus of ferocious roars.

[notebooknebula]

The Successful Real Estate Entrepreneur’s Mindset

You can listen to this on our Podcast World at:

https://realestateinvestingdeals.mypodcastworld.com/10233/the-successful-real-estate-entrepreneur-s-mindset

“You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with” is a quote attributed to motivational speaker Jim Rohn. While I don't know if this is absolutely true, I do know there's great benefit to surrounding yourself with kind, successful people. One such person I'm fortunate to have in my life is my good friend, real estate investor, and business coach, Chaffee-Thanh Nguyen.

Chaffee is the embodiment of the American dream. When he was a kid, his family immigrated to the United States with just the clothes on their backs. They didn't even speak English. But his family worked hard and Chaffee learned to seize the opportunities around him. Today, he is a successful real estate investor with experience investing in rehabs, assignments, short sales, raw land, community developments, wholesaling, and more. He's also a success coach eager to share his knowledge with other people.

“I know this country is so full of opportunity,” Chaffee told me recently. “Anybody can be successful, regardless of where you live, what ethnicity you are, what religion you practice, or where you were born, you can make it in this country. But you have to take advantage of the opportunities that are available to you.”

According to Chaffee, the key to taking advantage of those opportunities is to have the right mindset. After seeing what he has been able to accomplish in his life, I knew I wanted to have him as a guest on my podcast, “Real Estate Investing with Jay Conner.” During the interview, Chaffee shared his secrets to having a successful real estate entrepreneur's mindset. Here's what he revealed.

1. Take action.

“There are a lot of factors that prevent people from being successful,” Chaffee explained. “I would say the biggest one is not taking enough action. Nothing happens without action. I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't taken action. I invested thousands and thousands of dollars in training to be here.”

If you aren't experiencing success, ask yourself, “Have I been taking action? Am I doing all I can?”

2. Adopt an abundance mindset.

According to Chaffee, a scarcity mindset is when you think there's not enough of what you need and want. Fearing a lack of resources, finances, education, coaching support, or anything else, will keep you from pulling the trigger and doing deals.

“An abundance mindset is the opposite,” Chaffee continued. “We live in a world of abundance; we live with opportunity all around us.”

Not only is an abundance mindset more productive than a scarcity mindset, it's also a more accurate way of viewing the world. There's no reason to be afraid of not having enough of what you need to take action and be successful. You have to get out of your own way and simply take action in spite of any fears.

3. Understand your “why.”

Chaffee challenged my podcast listeners by asking, “When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up? How has that changed? You were put on this Earth for a reason, and it's not to work a 9-to-5 your entire life, retire, and hope you can travel the world before you die. It's to accomplish your purpose and serve the ones you care about. Understanding your why - the reason that drives you - is key.”

Chaffee calls his why his “North Star.” Anytime he's doing something that's not guiding him toward his North Star, he adjusts. One of his mentors encouraged him to ask himself great questions. One of which he shared with me: “Is the thing you're working on the highest and best use of your time? If not, why are you focusing on that?”

If you don't know the reason that drives you, you can't be passionate about your work. Ask yourself, “What is my passion? What's my why?”

4. Resist Shiny Object Syndrome.

Shiny Object Syndrome is when we get distracted because something looks new and exciting.

“I actually do have Shiny Object Syndrome,” Chaffee laughed. “The most successful individuals I know have it the worst. I think everybody has Shiny Object Syndrome. The trick is managing it. Unfortunately, a lot of individuals who aren't successful tend to jump, jump, jump from one new and exciting thing to the next without managing that desire.”

I've found the best way to manage Shiny Object Syndrome is to focus on your passions. You should always be making progress toward your end goals. This is where having a coach is helpful. They keep you focused and prevent you from getting distracted from your goals.

5. Don't overanalyze.

Chaffee explains a phenomenon called paralysis by analysis, which occurs when our focus is on continually gathering more information instead of taking action. Before you know it, you've analyzed a deal for three weeks, and then discover that deal is gone because someone else bought it while you were still busy analyzing.

Other resources:

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Blogger: https://vancouverrealtorinbc.blogspot.com/2020/04/the-successful-real-estate.html

[madllamamomma]

I Think I Have a Problem.... (A personal true story).

So as the title suggests, I have a strange problem…. Just as a warning, this is about my view of my younger self. It is about religion, and gender identity. This is not how I see the world anymore. It was how I told how the world should look. If you are offended in any way, please know this is a vent post and nothing to hurt anyone else. This is just what happened to me as a child. Shit….. This is about to get very long winded, so buckle up and here we go… *takes deep breath*

So a little backstory on your Mother Llama: I was raised in a weird backward ass “Independent” Baptist church most of my young life. If you guys don’t know what those are, be thankful…. But I guess I should explain it the best way I can…. they are a borderline cult. Yes. I said it. I’m not sorry. It may sound like an extreme accusation, but hold on. Just listen to me.

Now, I have no problem with Christians, or religion. You should believe whatever you want to believe in…. I do however, have a problem when religion is used as an excuse to not educate minds about the real world, force them to not let them think for themselves, and when someone questions any of it, they are punished or shamed for it instead of thinking about an answer. If you can’t tell, I am still a little angry about that shit. Imma try to keep on topic here….

I wasn’t taught science (real science anyways, it was all about ‘creation’ bs—OH! And being anything but a cis straight person was compleltly unexceptable. Woman were the weaker sex and were made to raise babies and take care of the husband. Men were superior and should be taken care of.) nor about World history or about other cultures, other than biblical of course. And when they were mentioned, they made them look evil and behave like heathens because they didn’t believe the same as they did. Everything changed when I went to public school half of fourth grade when my family moved to a different state and there wasn’t any church school like I went to. I learned a lot those years, that ‘The World’ wasn’t as bad of a place as they said it was. It was vast and had many things to offer. (No, not the World, Dio’s stan power from Jojo’s bizarre adventures—that is what our pastors called anything outside of the Baptist approved realm. Something ‘Worldly’ was basically something sinful and ungodly and therefor was bad and wrong).

So this may seem like a strange Segway in to what I am actually getting at, but I had a huge crush on this boy back when I was young and it started when I was about 12 or 13 years old and ended when I was 16. He was the same age as me, and he was the son of a pastor of a small church of about 20 people, mostly military families— we will call him.... D.... for dick...

I thought for a long time that I ‘loved’ D. I thought that ‘God made him for me’ (yes I really said that and it hurt to even write it). I really thought I knew what love was back then, but I was very wrong.

D was homeschooled, he didn’t have many friends and was also a navy brat like I was. So, naturally, we got along very well, and I would hang out with him at his house sometimes. We mainly played video games I was terrible at and he would always bet me. But I liked hanging out with him, so I didn’t care if I won or not. My heart for some reason was totally head over heels over D. And he liked me too for a while… or at least I thought he did… He however never made a move. I always thought D was just too shy, and didn’t know how to ask me. Any time I tried holding his hand, I’d chicken out. It was a stalemate. But this particular church did a thing where people had to court. Yes... COURT someone, not DATE (Courting is where you had adult chaperones keeping an eye on you two, you were never really alone. Ever, because apparently you can’t be trusted?). When we both turned 15 yo, D started a private Christian school. Being the awkward girl I was, I never told him how I felt, I just waiting for him to say something. Time passed, and I still waited and waited for him to ask me out.

But here’s the thing! He didn’t know the real me.

I was in public school, in middle school, and I started to become a weeb. Like a super cringy weeb that didn’t like anything else but anime—I was also kinda emo/punk kid thought I was edgy. (Yeah rock music was bad too, it was ‘Worldly’).Not a very good mix for Baptist I know. At school, I was one person, and at church I was another.

Well, being an anime fan meant I was exposed to a lot of things like the LGTB+ community for the first time. A lot of my friends at the time started to come out other than straight and that was very new to me.

During that time, I soon was starting to secretly question my faith, my understanding of my own sexuality and gender. Like, maybe people liking the same sex or both is actually not a bad thing after all (if you haven’t seen any of my works, hopefully you guys know that I know better that what I was taught—I am a proud fuckin’ ally! I still consider myself cis-straight, but some days I feel like I’m bi-curious, and that’s ok! It took me a long time to realize that, but I’m here now. Gender roles are dead and stupid.)

So here is the kicker~ One faithful day we had a guest pastor join us for a few weeks from another church. This mother fuckin’ nasty ass old white man from Alabama came with his ‘perfect quiet godly’ wife. Who badly ever spoke a damn word. She always just sat in the corner all ‘ladylike’.

—Oh!!! Another fun fact, I didn’t wear pants for a year when I was 10 yo becasue that was considered “cross dressing”— I’m dead fucking serious. My parents then decided after attending sporting events and stuff like that to drop that ludicrous lifestyle, becasue it was stupid. So, Outside of church, my family and I still wore pants and shorts and whatever, but in church we pretended that we didn’t wear anything but modest skirts, dresses, and long culottes. (That’s a little damaging…. don’t you think? Telling people your one thing, when in reality you're not like that at all??)

Anyways— I hated skirts, especially wearing them in the state we lived in, it was way too hot and I’d get chafed (these had to be knee length or longer btw). And of course that guest preacher would preach about the sins of women wearing pants, but I didn’t care. I wore them for so long, it just made me angry anytime someone would bring that up. I liked my jeans and I was starting to become a rebel teen who gave less than a fuck and started to speak my mind. Which was dangerous to that community…. Also I had a bad tendency of not keeping my legs together when I bent down, and one time I accidently showed my underwear (that’s really embarrassing btw, it’s not cute, it’s not funny, it’s awful when you're 14 yo-- really any age actually).

So, one day I wore a long jean skirt for a youth outing with the church. I was required to wear it, but I always wore leggings underneath so I wouldn’t accidentally show my undies if I fell down or the wind blew it. This fucker had to say something about it. The old man turned to me with a wrinkled smirk as I was passing by him and dared to utter, “Now, don’t you feel most femine and ladylike in that skirt? I’m sure Jesus would like seeing you like that.”

My shoulders clench up tight, my brow furrows. All I can remember seeing is fucking red and actually trembling with fury. (This was happening in my pastor, D’s father’s, own living room mind you.) D was there watching as I blanched about ten shades of red in anger and embarrassed because that prick of an old man called me out in front of everyone. I turned to him and half shouted, “NO! I don’t!” I could see my pastor’s mouth drop to the floor as I began to completely obliterate this old man. But I couldn't stop myself as I started to further cut into him. “—I hate wearing skirts! I don’t feel ladylike! In fact, they make me feel vulnerable! What if some guy tries to rape me! They won’t have any problem getting to me!—Why is something with a whole on the bottom more ladylike than something that actually covers me?! I like pants! They are comfortable and they make me feel safe! Why is that a sin to wear something that is more covering?!?! I’m not cross dressing, my mom bought them in the girl’s session!! [Keep in mind that was a long time ago, I don’t feel like people should care about what section they get their clothes from, wear what you want] And what do you know about wearing a skirt?! You’re a man! You try wearing them! They suck! You need to stop telling me what I can and can’t wear! I’m not dressing like a whore for wearing something with a crotch!! SO LEAVE ME ALONE!!” Everyone in the living room was just stunned at my audacity to dare speak to this pastor like I did. But he was so fucking quiet after that. And I stormed out of the house and the guest pastor never spoke to me again about it. Luckily my mom came and picked me shortly after that. She was angry too after I told her what happened. That old fuck singled me out and I was pissed off. I was a teenager and that shit was embarrassing!

But I made the mistake of showing my true self. I think after that moment, D stopped liking me after that.

Some shit went down south with my parents behind closed doors of my household, and eventually they got divorced. They left the small church because the pastor didn’t approve of it. Pastor said that my parents just needed more counseling but he didn't understand that they just needed to not be together. Sometimes you can’t make things work. Especially when your dad is a toxic piece of shit that only cares about himself.

Anyways, everyone in my family left the church, but I stuck around that shit-hole just to see if D would ask me out. I was so desperate, I felt like I waited forever, but really it was like 2-3 years, and I felt like I couldn’t give up. Eventually D and I turned 16. He started to become distant and a little mean towards me and I became confused and started to realize the worst. Finally, I was tired of waiting so I asked his older sister if he liked me on the way back taking me home. I could see it in her face, that she didn’t want to have my heart broken, but reluctantly she told me no. He actually liked another girl at his new private school and was going to ask her parents to court her instead.

I was so devastated.... It hurt so much, I cried myself to sleep that night, and most of that week I was very sad.

Obviously, after that, I stopped going to church entirely, I couldn't show my face anymore. Finally let myself question my faith, sexuality, gender roles, and humanity all together. And realized that religion was stupid (in my opinion at the time) and I came u with the conclusion that people can be sheep. I was a sheep for a long time. And I refuse to be one ever again.

High school was very enjoyable after that, and I let myself grow and started to love other religions and world history, and tried to stop being so judgmental of others and what they felt like. I even got into a relationship with a sweet boy around my age.

Eventually in college, after a break-up with my high school sweetheart, I reconnected with D via FB. Apparently, the church went under and his parents moved away to Greece to be missionaries or something. D still lives in the same town I’m in, but graduated from a “Christian academy”—not Catholic, Christian. Catholic colleges are accredited at least. But he basically told me he was a secret “bad boy” now. He lost his virginity in highschool, (like I did) and he was totally trying to booty call me. Not even hiding it either! He was like, “Hey, Llama, you wanna fuck?”.

And I was like, “D! You broke my fucking heart when we were young! Don’t you remember that???”

And he was like, “Oh no! I had no idea! (the fuckin’ liar). Well, we can fuck now!~ *wink, wink*”

🤨

This is where I was a jerk.... Because he broke my heart. I led him on, told him I would meet up with him at his house to sleep with him, and just didn’t show up—ghosted him ever since. The worst part about that, is I still don’t regret doing that to him. I hope I hurt his feelings and felt like an ass like I did.

So years have passed, I consider myself as a rather successful woman now. I’m 27, I consider myself Buddhist (I am a terrible Buddhist I know), I am an Occupational Therapy Assistant and I have a great husband (I married the guy I was with in high school). And he loves the real me—the crazy closet weeb, cartoon watching, creative, expressive, me! The person who also writes fanfiction about a romance novel and he is fine with it. Because he is a huge nerd too and we are both nerds together.

My husband is my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do without him. When I write about Rhemi and Muriel, I draw a lot of inspiration with our conversation we have and how relationship dynamics are and I think it makes the writing more authentic and makes them feel a bit more real.

I love my husband more than anything… So why do I keep dreaming about that stupid asshole that just liked the fake me? D was and always will be a total tool. He is like the basic bitch of a man. And yet I still find him creeping in my dreams and I try to cheat on my husband with him in them. I wake up feeling totally terrible and weird after them too. D is a terrible fucking person—the worst person you can be in my opinion—The kind of person why lies and tells people one thing, but hides the fact that he’s really just a nasty fuck boy. If you are one, just be honest! Don’t tell another woman you're a good christan man, when really you’ve slept with not just one, but multiple girls! That how you get fucking STDs! I hate being lied to, and I’m sure other girls do too! So I guess that’s why I do, because I felt like I was lied to my entire life. Then again, why should I even care?! Why do I feel like I still obsess over him? I hate him so much now! So why do I even care? Why do I still find myself stalking him on social media? Why does it even matter? Why do I want him to see I’m happy without him? Why do I want him to see what he could have had with me? We were just stupid teenagers! Why did I care so much? Why did it hurt so much when I found out he didn’t like me?! It’s been over a decade, and we didn’t even really date! Why did this affect me so hard? …. FUCK!

So yeah. That’s my long ass rant for you all… thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[mattkenzie]

So with a lot of changes going on in June with all this talk about racism being a hot button topic indeed, WotC (Wizards of the Coast) wants to revamp and update the diversity of Dungeons and Dragons especially those that are centred around the orcs, drow and the Vistani

So one of the biggest things I would change about the real world is to have fantasy races (elves, dwarves and orcs... etc) but my biggest fear is that deep down... humans can sometimes be racist to one another and I’ll be adding even MORE racism into the world if my dream and ideas of fantasy races lived in the real world would become a nightmare. 😢

So the first thing I will want to address is our mean, green fighting machines (the orcs); So it all started when J.R.R Tolkien wrote the Lord of the Rings Trilogy so we were introduced to the orcs there and soon the orcs have became the staple of fantasy novels henchmen, brutes and thugs for our heroes to fight against. It’s sad that we have to picture them as stupid brutes and when I was younger in my Warhammer 40,000 and Warhammer Fantasy days (I was about 12 or 13 at that time) I hated the orcs because of how the books considered them to be these dumb brutes (nobody wanted to play with them because in 40,000 they have the lowest Armour Saves you have to roll a d6 and prey to the dice gods that you’ll get a 6 if your opponent doesn’t use an AP 6 (Amour Penetration) weapon (+5 if they have scrap armour) and in Fantasy Battles if you have a Dwarf Army (with I did) you get to reroll your failed rolls to hit giving us more chances roll to wound (eventually I stopped using the Dwarves ‘hatred’ rule that the other players say that I am the easiest person to win against because I choose not to use the hatred rule. (I just don’t know why I never heavy rely on the Hatred rule, why should hate win?)

When I started playing World of Warcraft after my college years (For the Alliance) I loved the Draenei but eventually there were times I wanted to know what it was like being the Horde. (you have your Undead, Tauren, Trolls and Blood Elves but what stood out more are the Orcs.) I sometimes want to know how the other half lives that I have slowly became accustomed to the Orcs, sure the Alliance had their Paladins as their exclusive class but the Horde had something different and I love the fact that they are spiritual (shamanism), No I have never seen the movie. But as a human, I started to find tusks appealing.

It’s funny how in the real world, eventhough I am a Caucasian male, I wanted to know what it’s like to be black. (with all that “Black Lives Matter”, I will admit that I used to think that all lives matter... but that is not the case anymore because some people aren’t treated as equals. We portray those who are different from us ‘savages’ even in modern media (of television, movies and video games) we portray people in the Middle East as Terrorists ever since the 9/11 attacks (September 11th) and we portray people who are black as gangsters and thugs and one of my favourite shows happens to be The Boondocks and while Riley Freeman plays the stereotype (that portrayal needs to stop), my favourite character is Huey Freeman and for a fictional character, he challenged the way I think about things). I have made some awesome friends at Church who are black but they’ve broken that mould. I went to college with them (but we didn’t go to the same department mind you) while I was getting a higher education, they have been studying to become physicians (they are smarter than me). They go to interviews to not get hired (instead they hire someone less qualified) they have been stopped by the police for driving cars they shouldn’t normally have (but earned it fair and square).

Heck there were times where they didn’t fit in the black community because they acted white. “How!?” (I’m sorry, how you can be rejected for being black on the outside but have personality traits of a Caucasian?) just to be called a ‘Sell Out’ or a ‘Bounty Bar’.

So anyway back to my D&D discussion, to me when I’ve played my first ever D&D 5E game with a gaming group known as the “Natural Oneduhs” my first character that I’ve created is Kamui, the Half-Orc (my DM wanted Kamui to either be a shade of green or grey, but I was having none of that “All orcs should be green or grey.” so I chose to stick to my guns to be Caucasian). I played against type because orcs in a fantasy setting (with their +2 Str and +1 Con they would be suited to play as Barbarians or Fighters) so because orcs aren’t an intelligent race I thought I’d kick things up a bit so I chose to play as a Bard. After these sessions with the (playing in the DM’s world and no stories for the individual players) Kamui grew up in a human society because the orcs rejected Kamui for not being an orc, but is always portrayed as a monster no matter the colour of his skin, (in 2nd Edition orcs aren’t a playable race, it was later introduced in 3rd Edition) sick and tired of the prejudice he sees where people see Kamui as an orc and not an actual person only one person accepted Kamui.

“What I hate about society is people tend to use violence as a weapon to get their point across (which ends up breaking into war) instead we need to use our voices and our own words to speak volumes.”

So the books that I have read where the orcs/half-orcs have became the anti-heroes is The Grey Bastards and True Bastards by Jonathan French (it’s the most boyish book I ever read) so I have Volo’s Guide to Monsters and the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount.

Now the Vistani (they are a travelling group of gypsies commonly found in Barovia in any Ravenloft campaign) and in the real world we look down upon the Romani gypsies because they couldn’t follow our “rules of society” by dumping their old trailers (fly-tipping), setting up camps in public spaces and being in large groups (I’m a large man, but I’m scared of getting ganged up on or mugged by them when I am walking down the road) not exactly Esmarelda from Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I don’t know why, but I tend to see them hanging out in boxing clubs and riding (or racing) in those 1 horse carriages or sometimes having lunch in the carvery (and ignore social rules like changing a baby on the dinner table) which is gross, “We having changing facilities!”, Oh it’s your kids birthday and you let them watch a 12 rated movie instead of a U rated film yet your kids choose to cause havoc in the cinema “Yep, still ignoring the rules of society!” and then having the audacity to be dumping popcorn on me when watching Avengers Assemble because your kids couldn’t follow the rules! in this TV show on Channel 4 My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. I never played a Vistani before but it would be interesting to see more variant humans in the game.

In real life, with what I had to put up with, I think I would be scared to make a friend with the Romani (learnt behaviour) but I admire them for being a tight knit group, you don’t see that in modern day society, we are all wrapped our heads around social media.

I can picture them with Animal Handling and Performance as their skills, have a proficiency with a musical instrument.

The Drow (Dark Elves) have been painted as sadomasochist and well... “evil” but what I find fascinating and appreciate them is their religion because they have female priests. What I am saying is that in the real world, it’s a rare sight to see a female Vicar (I feel that it’s quite progressive but other people (old men and traditionalists) are apprehensive about having a woman to preach about the gospel.) Look at Matthew Mercer’s Critical Role campaign 2 and take a look at the Krynn Dynasty.

I never played a drow before and I don’t think I shall anytime soon. I know that a popular drow that is well known is Drizz’t and to fight against the stereotypical world view that all drow are evil because of Lolth, the Spider Queen... I don’t think a religion should define you. But it’s like I said, I believe that this has ushered in having a female priest (if you’ve seen the Victor of Dibbley you might understand where I am coming from.)

For me the Orcs in my world are indeed a tribal society (and I give them a Polynesian/New Zealand/Aztec/Hawaiian flair to them, instead of “Makin’ um as da dum broots dey are”).

[hellyeahheroes]

Building Billy Batson in D&D 5e

Hello everyone, I felt like making another build to add to the previous ones (which you can see in the Masterpost) and today....*Phone rings*

Is it done?

The Main Man always delivers. One Dark Multiverse bastish tied up like a gammon. What do ya wanna me do with that creep now?

 Throw him back where he came from. I won’t let him mess with another of my builds. Now, about the payment...

-mmmmmmmpf---mmmmmph.

Shup up or I’ll shove that headband where tha sun won’t shine! Anyway, consider tha one a freebie. One of that bastich’s buddies had an indecency ta die before Main Man’s fist could explain to his face why ya don’ stab me with my own hook. Whippin’ ta smile of tha bastich’s face is now a matter of honor.

Pleasure doing business with you.

*Call disconnected*

Sorry for that. Now that we are sure NO leather-clad clown from Dark Multiverse will get his dark-matter-covered hands on my builds like he did with Supergirl, let’s make build for who might be one of the most popular characters fitting the scope of this blog. So much I worry if the inspiration for these builds, Tulok the Barbarian, won’t drop his own build soon (I mean I did say in Supergirl build I doubt he will do Superman anytime soon....and then he did). We’re tackling an actual movie star this time. You probably already know who I’m talking about, right?

Shazam, vel Captain Marvel, vel Captain Marvelous vel Captain Thunder etc, is such a nice character he already has prepared his own list of goals for his build - the Wisdom of Solomon, the Strength of Hercules, the Stamina of Atlas, the Power of Zeus, the Courage of Achilles and the Speed of Mercury.

For Ability Scores, we’re always using Standard Points Array - 15, 14, 13, 12, 10 and 8. If your game uses a different point buy or your roll the dice, treat these as guidelines, just keep your Wisdom and Dexterity high enough for multiclassing.

Strength - 13, Strength of Hercules after all

Constitution - 14, it is Stamina of Atlas

Dexterity - 10, not exactly Speed of Mercury but we can reflect that easy in other ways.

Intelligence - 8, it reflects learned knowledge and Billy is still in school and is usually portrayed as an average student

Wisdom - 15, as it represents both Wisdom of Solomon (duh) and Courage of Achilles

Charisma - 12, too bad we cannot get it higher but Shazam is MAD (Multiple Ability Dependent) by definition. Anyway, people like Big Red Cheese.

Now for the Race.... Shazam is World’s Mightiest Mortal and he is supposed to be an aged up version of Billy or recreation of Billy’s memory of his dead father, so we’ll go with Variant Human. If you would rather take any form that reflects stories where Billy and Shazam are different people switching places, there are few options - Gensai seems somewhat fitting, so does Aasimar, Filbolg, Goliath or even Elf or Half-Elf, depending on where you’d want to focus with the character.

Variant Human gets 1 free language, pick whatever is campaign appropriate, one extra skill, pick Persuasion to help your good public image, +1 to two Ability Scores - pick up Wisdom and Charisma, and a feat. Elemental Adept allows us to pick a lightning type of damage so that from now on when we deal it, it will ignore the resistance and all 1s on our lighting damage rolls become 2s. Alternatively, you can use thunder for this feat, we will be doing a lot of both.

For background we will build a custom one. Pick up Athletics and Perception for skills, any two language or tool proficiencies you find campaign appropriate, and the City Secrets Feature from Urchin Background, which allows you to, when not in combat, travel twice as fast within a city.

Now for the Class, we’ll start with Sorcerer, which gives us proficiency with Charisma and Constitution saving throws, two skills - pick Insight to further utility Wisdom of Solomon to read people and Religion so you actually know what gods granting your powers are about and, you know, don’t go looking for Greek Titan Atlas and find some other guy named Atlas (King Shazam was a stupid book ok?) - and proficiency with daggers, slings, quaterstaffs, darts and light crossbows.

Sorcerer also gets Sorcerous Origin and Storm Sorcery gives us two features - Wind Speaker lets you talk and understand Primordial language and its dialects and Tempestuous Magic allows you to fly up to 10 feet on a gust of air without provoking opportunity attacks.

Sorcerers get to learn magic. How it works is that we get to learn two spells and two Cantrips and two spell slots. We get to cast a spell using the spell slot and we get them back upon finishing a long rest, while Cantrips we can cast as many times as we want. If these spells require a spell attack we roll it with a modifier equal your Charisma Modifier and Proficiency Bonus and if they ask to make a saving throw, difficulty for that is equal to that sum +8.

Also, from Unearthed Arcana for class options, you can pick Spell Versatility, which allows you to replace any of those spells with another of the same level once per long rest.

We start knowing two cantrips and two 1st-level spell from the Sorcerer Spell List:

Shocking Grasp. You make a melee Spell attack roll with attack modifier equal your CHA modifier + your proficiency modifier (so just the last one) and on a hit deal 1d8 lightning damage to a target. As you level up it increases to 2d8 on level 5th, 3d8 on 11th and 4d8 on 17th

Lighting Lure lets you bring up the fact Wonder Woman was slightly inspired by Captain Marvel - you can make a lasso out of a lighting and on a failed strength saving throw the target is pulled 10 feet towards you and if this makes them end within 5 feet from you takes 1d8 lightning damage (scaling as Shocking Grasp)

Expeditious Retreat which, as long as the concentration is maintained for a maximum of 10 minutes, lets you dash as a bonus action when you cast and on each of your turns. This should add to some of that Speed of Mercury thing.

Jump, it triples your jump distance. 

We will now jump (heh) to the first level of Fighter to gain proficiency with armors, simple and martial weapons and shields. Shazam isn’t wearing armor but you can argue his outfit could be a light armor maybe? If not, maybe consider picking up a Mage Armor instead of Jump. Or just go mad and have ARMORED SHAZAM to terrorize your enemies with. We can learn a Fighting Style and Unarmed Fighting from new Unearthed Arcana will make Shazam’s fists deal 1d6+Strength Modifier for damage, instead of static 2. If he uses two hands, or dropkicks someone, World’s Mightiest Mortal can roll 1d8 damage instead and on successful grapple check and whenever he hits a creature he is grappling he can deal an extra 1d4 of damage. You also gain Second Wind, which allows you to, on a bonus action, to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level.

2nd Level Fighter gets Action Surge, which allows you once per short or long rest to take an additional action on your turn. This, combined with your Expeditious Retreat helps us somewhat stimulate Speed of Mercury.

If you are confused with multiclassing do not worry, from now on we will remain firmly within a single class. Our 4th level will be 1st level of Cleric. I mean, as far as we might call him Wizard, the guy giving Billy his powers is beyond a mere d&d Wizard (tho some of them are close due to how bullshit op wizards are in this game) - a god-like being who often gets invited to sit at the same table with Phantom Stranger and Zeus, sired two freaking demons and gets into arguments about human nature with personification of Abrahamic God’s wrath and pulls cavemen from time to prove a point. Wizard Shazam is your diety, might be some sort of god of magic. 

1st Level Cleric gets to choose Divine Domain and with the whole motive, we have there is no better option than Tempest. You gain few proficiencies you already had from Fighter and Wrath of the Storm. An amount of time equal your Wisdom modifier per long rest you can use your reaction whenever you’re hit by a creature within 5 feet that you can see to deal it 2d8 lightning or thunder damage or half on successful DEX save.

Cleric, of course, learns spells. They work a bit differently from Sorcerer - you always know them but can only prepare a limited amount, equal your Cleric Level + your Wisdom modifier, ahead of time once you finish a long rest. Your Domain gives you extra spells you always have prepared as well. You can prepare spells on a higher level than they are normally to give them more powerful effects. And your Spell Attack and Spell Save Difficulty for Cleric spells use your Wisdom instead of Charisma. Cantrips work the same except new feature from Unearthed Arcana, Cantrip Versatility, lets you replace one you already know with another every time you gain a Cleric level.

Also, remember that since you are multiclassing casters, consult how many spells slots you should have with SRD - it’s very simple, you just sum up your Cleric and Sorcerer levels. You cannot cast spells from a level higher than you have access by the standard class spell progression, so I will still write down all spells as they would be granted on a standard level for a Cleric.

At first level you gain 3 Cantrips, 2 bonus spells and can prepare two spell slots + one for the next level

Virtue lets yu for one round grant yourself or another target 1d4+your Wisdom modifier temporary hit points.

Guidance lets you for up to 1 minute, on concentration, grant yourself or any willing creature a 1d4 to roll and add to any Ability Check.

Resistance works like Guidance but for saving throws.

Fog Cloud - you create a 20 feet fog that heavily obscures the area of your choice. You can maintain this spell with concentration up to 1 hour but it might be dispersed by wind.

Thunderwave makes you explode with the power of Zeus, dealing every creature within 15-feet away from you 2d8 thunder damage, half on a successful Constitution saving throw, and pushes 10 feet away from you all creatures that failed and everything that isn’t tied or nailed to the ground.

Guiding Bolt makes you make a ranged spell attack - on a hit you blast the target with energy, dealing it 4d6 radiant damage and giving anyone who attacks it an advantage on the next attack because of how the lingering energy makes them a sitting target.

Cure Wounds lets you hear 1d8+your Wisdom modifier of damage on a single target who isn’t undead or a construct. This may represent both your resilence in combat as well as how you inspire other heroes to keep fighting with your optimism - remember hit points are not meat points. (as an alternative you can take Healing Word which works similar except cannot be used on yourself instead can be used at distance - think of it as Shazam cheering an ally in the middle of the combat)

Protection from Evil and Good, upon casting lets you choose one type of creature - an aberration, celestial, elemental, fey, fiend or undead. You can hold it up on Concentration for up to 10 minutes and it gives all creatures of that type a disadvantage on attack rolls against whoever you cast it on and prevents them from charming, frightening or possessing them - and if they already are, it gives them the advantage on saving throws to break free.

2nd Level Cleric learns to Channel Divinity, letting the power of Zeus grant you one of the following options once per short or long rest:

Turn Undead forces every undead within 30 feet that can see or hear you to make a Wisdom Saving Throw or be turned for 1 minute or until it takes any damage, a state in which it must spend its turn using all actions to move as far away from you as it can, unless that’s impossible (then it must try to escape that effect), cannot willingly move to any area within 30 feet from you and cannot take reactions. So now you know why Nekron waited until Billy was depowered to kick off Blackest Night.

Destructive Wrath can be activated whenever you deal thunder or lightning damage and lets you just skip rolling and declare you deal maximum damage possible.

Harness Divine Power from Unearthed Arcana lets you spend your use of Channel Divinity as a bonus action to regain a 1st-level spell.

On 3rd Level Cleric gains 1 extra spell slot for 1st level spells and can now prepare 2 2nd level spells and 2 bonus spells from Tempest Domain and I will also get out of the way new Cantrip and another 2nd level spell slot we will get on 4rd level.

Word of Radiance makes you erupt with radiant energy, forcing every creature that you can see of your choice to make a Constitution saving throw or take 1d6 radiant damage (scaling with your total level like previous Cantrips).

Divine Favor is a concentration spell that can last up to 1 minute and lets you add an extra 1d4 radiant damage to your attacks

Enchance Ability is another Concentration spell that lasts up to 1 minute, it lets you grant you or someone else a bonus on Ability Checks for one Ability of your choice with some minor bonuses for physical ones - 2d6 temporary hit points for CON, preventing you from taking falling damage for DEX and doubling your carrying capacity for STR.

Aid lets you increase current and maximum hit points of up to 3 allies by 5 for up to 8 hours. It doesn’t require concentration and doesn’t count it as temporary hit points, meaning it can stack with those and you can cast it early and it should last for a while.

Prayer of Healing will be the improved version of that “Shazam cheers on his friends” deal with healing I mentioned above - now you can heal 2d8+your Wisdom modifier of damage on up to six creatures you can see.

Gust of Wind lets you play a big bad wolf - you huff and puff so much it creates a strong wind in a 60 feet long and 10 feet wide line, which can last up to 1 minute on concentration. It extinguishes any flames that aren’t protected, has a 50% chance of doing so to protected ones as well, and forces every creature caught in it to succeed a Strength saving throw or be pushed 15 feet away whenever it starts its turn in that line. On each turn you can change the direction of the line as a bonus action.

Shatter lets you bring the thunder - it deals 3d8 thunder damage to all not worn or carried nonmagical objects and every creature within the 10-feet radius from you, half as much on a successful Constitution saving throw, which inorganic creatures (like Doctor Shivana’s robots maybe?) make with disadvantage.

A situation where Enhance Ability is put to a good use

4th Level is an ability score Improvement, increase your Wisdom for better Saving Throw difficulty and more Spells prepared

At 5th Level you get Destroy Undead, which means that from now on every time you use your Turn Undead, all undead of Challenge Rating 1/2 or less who will fail their Wisdom Saving throw get instantly destroyed. You also get 2 3rd level spell slots and gain two bonus spells. And one more on 6th level.

Protection from Energy grants you or another willing creature resistance to one type of damage you choose - acid, cold, fire, lightning or thunder - for up to 1 minute on Concentration.

Beacon of Hope also lasts up to 1 minute on Concentration and in this time grants any number of creatures within range advantage on Wisdom saving throws, death saving throws and make all healing spells automatically heal maximum number of hit points.

Speaking of which, Mass Healing Word lets you to heal up to six creatures in 60 feet range that you can see for 1d4+your Wisdom modifier.

Sleet Storm is your second bonus spell and it is pretty hard to explain this one in character, for now. Until it ends, and it lasts 1 minute on Concentration, you can make sleet and freezing rain fall down on an area of 40 feet radius and20-feet in height, centered on any point you chose within 120 feet radius. Flames in the area are doused, the ground becomes difficult terrain and whenever a creature enters it or starts its turn there it must make Dexterity saving throw or fall prone and every creature concentrating on a spell within the area must make a Constitution saving throw or lose concentration.

Call Lighting on Concentration can last up to 10 minutes and it creates a 10 feet tall, 60-feed wide cylinder centered on a point 100 feet above you within 120 feet radius, which makes storm erupt in that area. On each of your turns or when spell is cast you can literally call lighting on any point within that area and have lighting strike it, dealing all creatures within 5 feet to 3d10 lightning damage, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw, +extra 1d10 if you cast it in stormy conditions already. Why does that sound familiar?

Unlike what we learned in Kingdom Come and Justice League cartoon it is not advised you actually stand next to the person you’re blasting with Call Lighting.

On 6th level, you can use your Channel Divinity options twice between rests and you gain Thunderous Strike - whenever you deal Lighting damage on a large or smaller creature, you can push it 10 feet away from you.

7th level Cleric gets to learn first 4th level spell, plus two bonus spells and we will also cover one spell of that level you get at 8th level:

Freedom of Movement lasts for an Hour, no concentration, and make target unaffected by difficult terrain and immune to any magical effects that would reduce its movement, paralyze or restrain it, can spend 5 feet of movement to escape all nonmagical ones like grappling and doesn't suffer penalties on attack and movement underwater.

Aura of Purity, added to Cleric’s list in Unearthed Arcana, lets you generate an aura for up to 10 minutes on Concentration. You and each non-hostile creature within 30-foot radius cannot become diseased, gains resistance to poison damage and advantage on saving throws on any effects that would cause it to be blinded, charmed, deafened, frightened, paralyzed, poisoned or stunned.

Control Water lasts up to 10 minutes on concentration and lets you control any body of water in 300 feet area that would fit in a cube up to 100 feet on one side, making a flood, parting it, redirecting its flow or creating a whirlpool. No idea how that fits Shazam, maybe instead of Speed of Mercury you got Aquatics of Moses? But hey, free stuff.

Ice Storm lets you choose any point within 300 feet radius and have it becomes a center of a cylinder 40 feet high and 20 foot wide that gets BOMBARDED BY ROCK HARD ICE dealing all creatures in it 2d8 bludgeoning damage and 4d6 ice damage, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw and the ground in that area becomes difficult terrain until end of your next turn.

8th level is also dense with features. Yoru Destroy Undead now works on all undead of challenge rating 1 or less, you can round up your Wisdom with an Ability Score Improvement and you get Divine Strike. Once on each of your turns when you hit a creature you can deal it an extra 1d8 thunder damage. Alternatively, you can choose to make it radiant with a possible replacement feature from Unearthed Arcana, Blessed Strikes, allowing you to add 1d8 radiant damage to any damage you deal with a hit or spell once each turn. It is more flexible but won’t increase to 2d8 when you gain 14th level of Cleric.

Yeah, being able to call upon Ice Storm does make me think Armageddon has arrived.

9th level Cleric gets a new Cantrip, one more 4th level spell slot and we will do our usual dance with 5th level spells - covering one for a slot you gain on this and next level and two bonus ones.

Light lets you make an object no longer than 10 feet in any dimension shine with bright light in a 20-foot radius and dim light in following 20-foot radius and if that object was held by a hostile creature, it must succeed a Dexterity saving throw or drop it.

Our 4th level spell is Banishment, which lets you do that one trick where Shazam punched a monster so hard he created a black hole and send it to another dimension. Which he did. You choose a target up to 60 feet from you and force it to make a Charisma saving throw. If it fails, you need to keep concentration up to 1 minute. If the concentration breaks, the target returns. If a minute has passed and the target was a native to the plane you are on, it will then return. If it wasn’t, then if you keep up concentration for that 1 minute, they do not come back. Have I mentioned two of your enemies are freaking demon children fo Wizard, Blaze and Satannus? And that one of your deadliest foes, Mr. Mind has been in new continuity an interdimensional threat (and for fans of him being an alien, look up Spelljammer)? Put this baby to a good use.

Mass Cure Wounds lets you to choose up to six creatures within 30-feet radius centered on any point of your choice within 60 feet from you. Each one regains 3d8+ your Wisdom modifies of hit points. Billy further inspiring his friends to keep up hope in face of evil.

Flame Strike is another spell for the “how is he exactly doing that” category. It’s basically you choosing any point within 60 feet range from you and yelling SHAZAM! to make a 10-foot in radius, 40-feet high PILLAR OF FIRE erupt with a center on this point, dealing 4d6 fire damage and 4d6 radiant damage to all creatures within it, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw.

Destructive Wave makes a burst of destructive energy erupt from you. You can choose which creatures within 30 feet radius from you it hits and deal them 5d6 thunder damage and 5d6 either radiant or necrotic damage, whichever you prefer, half on a successful Dexterity saving throw. Those that fail the save are also knocked prone.

Finally Insect Wave. Choose any point within 300 feet radius. It becomes a center of a 20-feet in radius sphere that gets FILLED WITH LOCUST that deal 4d10 piercing damage to all creatures in it, all those who enter the area or end a turn within it, half on a successful Constitution saving throw. On Concentration, you can keep up this nightmare up to 10 minutes. Maybe that M does stand for Moses after all?

This is how it looks like when Shazam tries Banishment, minus that part where he gets sucked in as well.

At 10th level Cleric learns Divine Intervention - in time of need you can call upon your boss the Wizard and ask him for help. Roll percentile dice (1d100 or 2d10, with one serving as tens and another as ones) and if you roll equal or below your level the diety will intervene on your behalf.

11th level Cleric gets Destroy Undead increased to Challenge Rating 2 and learns a 6th level Spell. Otherwordly Form let’s you assume form of divine being. You can say SHAZAM and for one minute, with Concentration, assume either Upper or Lower Planes form and gain following benefits: flying speed of 40 feet,+2 bonus to AC, an abilitty to substitute your Wisdom for Strength when punching people and depending on the planes you picked either immonity to poison damage and poisoned condition (lower planes) or necrotic damage and charmed condition (Upper Planes).

12th level Cleric gains an Ability Score Improvement. Due to many of our spells requiring Concentration, we should invest in Constitution. Remember it grants extra hit points retroactively. 13th level grants us a single 7th level spell. Let’s make SHAZAM! the word of power it deserves to be then with Divine Word - you utter a word imbued with power that shaped the world since the dawn of creation. Choose any number of creatures with 30 feet that you can see. You force them to make a Charisma saving throw and if they fail the following results happen: if the creature had 50 or less Health Points, it gets deafened for 1 minute. If its HP was 40 or lower, it gets blinded and deafened for 10 minutes. If its health was 30 or lower it gets blinded, deafened and stunned for 1 hour. Any loser with HP below 21 is killed instantly. And if you use it on  a celestial, an elemental, a fey, or a fiend and they fail a save they get kicked out to their native dimension and cannot return for next 24 hours unless someone uses a Wish spell, on top of all that deafening and killing.

This is what he is talking about and you cannot convince me otherwise.

At 14th Level your Divine Strike damage increases to 2d8 and your Destroy Undead power now works on undead up to Challenge Rating 3. 15th Level Cleric gets access to 8th level spells. Holy Aura is a Concentration Spell up to 1 minute, making you shine a bright aura in a 30-foot radius. Any creature you choose within that radius shines dim light with 5 feet radius and have an advantage on all saving throws, while everyone else has a disadvantage on all attack rolls against them and if an undead or fiend actually manages to hit them in a melee, they shine brightly for a moment, blinding their attacker for the remaining duration of the spell, unless they make a Constitution saving throw.

16th level Cleric gains another Ability Score Improvement, increase your Constitution again. Our Capstone is the 17th level of Cleric which increases Destroy Undead to now working on Challenge Rating 4 undead and gives us Stormborn, which grants you flying speed equal to your walking speed while outdoors and not underground. So assume all these insane storms were results of Billy flying up and messing with the weather above. Finally, we learn a 9th level spell slot. Upon casting you to restore up to 700 Hit Points divided as you choose between any number of creatures within 60 feet, also curing them of all disease and effects making them blinded or deafened. You know, in case Black Adam used his own Divine Word on your allies.

So this is how I would build Shazam in D&D. Storm Sorcerer 1/Fighter 2/Tempest Domain Cleric 17. Now lets us see how variable this build is. First of all, Big Red Cheese is a good person to be around, always inspiring his allies to push forward and keeping up the morale (aka healing everyone). Second he can use his might to bring terror upon the battlefield, with many area of effect spells wrecking chaos among the enemies. And in a pinch, Billy can tank damage like a champ with around 180 HP and with high Constitution and proficiency in its save he should maintain Concentration easily. You are also surprisingly mobile for a guy doing tanking and battlefield-control.

On the downsides, Strength of Hercules and Speed of Mercury are mostly maintained by casting spells and playing them off as some sorts of abilities you just have. Meaning if you want to maintain that you need to carefully consider your spells for each day and what you might need. Your strength modifier being only +1 also means that without Otherworldy Form you will often simply not hit your enemies. Even your damage in melee is mostly accomplished by fighting style and Divine Strike. Speaking of which, a lot of your damage is done in types that many creatures have resistance and immunity to and this build is too hungry for Ability Score Improvements to pick up second Elemental Adept so you cannot even deal with resistance on both lightning and thunder. Finally, a lot of your spells require Concentration, meaning you can use only one at the time. Overall, however, you are a valuable member of the team, as long as you remember you cannot do everything alone.

ALTERNATIVES:

Speaking of a team, Billy isn’t the only champion of the Wizard. So why won’t we talk about how to alter this build to make any of Billy’s siblings? Here are some quick suggestions:

DARLA: Change Ability Scores to STR 12 DEX 14 CON 13 INT 8 WIS 15 CHA  10 and use your Variant Human modifiers to round up Wisdom and Constitution. Drop fighter and Sorcerer and instead pick up a level of Monk for increased mobility and DEX-based Unarmed attacks, then a level of Revised Ranger with Favored Enemy replaced by Favored Foe from Unearthed Arcana and one extra level left spend on Cleric (from which you should be starting this build now), spend Ability Score Improvements on maxing out Wisdom and Dexterity. You will keep your mobility, decrease the MAD and be able to both move around the battlefield, deal decent damage in combat and still rely on your spells requiring a saving throw or spell attack.

PEDRO: STR: 14 DEX 10 CON 15 INT 10 WIS 13 CHA 8, two +1 spend on Strength and Constitution, replace Elemental Adept with Athlete to round up your Strength, replace Sorcerer with one more level of Fighter and pick Brute as a Martial Archetype, spend Ability Score Improvements on maxing up Strength and Constitution. Focus on Concentration based spells, especially those beneficial to you and your allies, so you can be a team tank.

EUGENE: For Ability Scores replace Charisma with Intelligence and drop a level of Sorcerer and a level of Fighter for two levels of Wizard. At second level pick up School of Lore Mastery for Spell secrets - it allows you to change the type of damage dealt by your spells and the type of a saving throw they demand to make. You’re squishier but more flexible in casting, able to make all your weird spells deal lighting or thunder damage or another way around if you run into something with resistance or immunity.

MARY: drop Fighter and Sorcerer for 3 level of Celestial Pact Warlock, on 3rd level pick up Pact of the Chain and replace one of your Eldritch Invocations with Investment of the Chain Master from Unearthed Arcana and either convince the DM to let you summon a rabbit familiar (despite it not being on the list) or agree to use stats of one of the animals on it while treating it like a rabbit in story. With the Invocation, you will get flying rabbit with magical attacks, or should I say HOPPY THE MARVEL BUNNY?

FREDDY: Drop levels of Fighter and go with 3 levels of Draconic Sorcerer to get better AC, more spells and Metamagic to let you do some crazy stuff.

- Admin

[buckysforeverprincess]

First World Problems

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers

Words: 2061

Warnings: Language

A/N: This idea was taken from one of the panel’s where the person complained about standing in line waiting in heels. Who wears heels to a con, I don’t know. But thankfully they did, because it got the best response ever and I cranked out a fic!!! Enjoy!

Ugh! Why the hell won't she just shut the fuck up?! This was totally not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night, but once again, here you were; to say this was absolute torture was an understatement.  

Steve and you were sitting at the table in your shared apartment, listening to Bucky's latest date ramble-complain really, about her “traumatic” day, and you were over it! Death could come for you anytime, you'd welcome it over sitting here for another painful moment listening to her high-pitched voice and the bitching that would never end.  

It didn't help matters that you were in love with him and hated when he asked Steve and you to meet these women after he'd had a couple of dates with them. He was always looking for approval from his best friends, and he rarely ever got it. Maybe it was because you were in love with him and hated the fact that he didn't see you that way. Was it fair? No. Maybe one day he'd finally bring home a girl worthy of that approval. Today was not going to be that day!

“I mean-can you believe it?!” You rolled your eyes while looking down at your food. “She was taking so long! Like, what the hell? You work in service! You have to be faster than that!” She was so whiny, you had a hard time focusing on the plate of food in front of you.  

“So why didn't you just leave? Go back another day?” You almost wished you hadn't asked that. It guaranteed she'd continue to talk.  

“Because, I already waited two weeks to buy that dress, and I just had to have it! It really shouldn't have taken that long to ring people up! Like, my feet hurt so bad from standing and waiting for ten minutes, then it took her another five minutes to complete my transaction! Do you know what it's like to stand there that long in Jimmy Choo’s?! You just don't do that!” She looked appalled that you'd even asked that ridiculous question in the first place.

Yeah, this wasn't gonna work. Even Steve could see the fire burning inside you. He quickly dropped his fork and reached out to you, but it was too late. You were ready to explode and there wasn't anything anyone could do.  

“Who the fuck goes shopping in Jimmy Choo’s anyway?!” You asked giving her your best resting bitch face.

“Obviously someone that cares about their appearance! I do have a little respect for myself and like to look good when I'm out. Clearly it works. I'm here with James!” She smirks at you like she's just one up’d you. This crazy girl has no idea who you are!

“Fuck you and your first world problems!” The laughter erupts from the table and both men are in hysterics.

“Excuse me?” She asks, sounding offended and hurt.

“Why is looking good a ‘first world problem’? Taking pride in oneself should never be an issue!”

“No, it's called vanity and it's really not a turn on.” You tell her as if it's a new eye-opening experience.  

“What's your problem with me?” She's glaring at you, and you look to both Steve and Bucky wondering if they were going to stop this insanity. The two of them look blank, as if neither of them knows what to do or say, so if they are willing to play along and let this train wreck of an evening continue, you might as well give them they show stopper they're waiting for.  

“My problem?! Well, let's see...you're so self-absorbed you can't see in front of you!” She inhales a deep breath, shocked that someone would say such things to her, but she says nothing in her defense. Good. You have no intention of taking it easy on her. Maybe it's time someone told her how the world really works and does not revolve around her desires.  

“You bitched about the cashier. What the fuck was she supposed to do? Cater to your every need? Realistically, you walked out of that store with your Jimmy Choo’s on and an expensive ass dress; while that cashier was still there WORKING, taking care of asshole customers like you, making minimum wage and dreaming of wearing clothes you take for granted! So, pardon me if I give no fucks about you or your material wants and needs!”  

There's a clap next to you and you turn and see Steve clapping at your speech. Of course, he would. You shake your head and turn your attention back to the woman across from you, and she still sits there in a state of shock. You must have stunned her into silence and thank the lord for that! Her lack of response is golden and you for real can't take any more of her tonight.

“Bucky…,” you look towards your other best friend with a halfhearted smile, “if you’re looking for my approval, don't. I can't, in good faith or in any religion, give it to you. I seriously don't get what you see in these women. So, from now on, if you're looking for my validation, just don't. It's not happening.” You tell him as you push your plate away from you and stand up to leave the table. You've had enough of this shit to last a lifetime.

“Aww, poor baby! Are you jealous?” You hear her high-pitched voice ask and it stops you dead where you stand. “I know you're single, James told me. You must be jealous he doesn't see you how he sees me!” The bitch is goading you and you know it, and the guys do as well. Both men give out a groan knowing what is about to come next, and neither one of them has the will or the balls to stop you.

“You think you know me?!” You say as you turn around, a smirk across your face. “Let me tell you about me. First, I'll admit I have a thing for Bucky, however, seeing the girls he constantly brings home...I think I'll pass. Every one of them is the same; self-centered, materialistic, look at me bitches, and if that's what he's attracted to, then I hope he eventually makes enough to support your lifestyle without going broke!” Steve laughs at you knowing your analysis of Bucky's dates is highly accurate. He's seen it too but can't convince Bucky he needed to re-evaluate his standards.

“And second, let me know how all your vanity works out for you when you come to the ER covered in blood and I'm part of the team that saves your life!” The bitch is glaring at you but chooses to say nothing. Smart girl!

“Let me tell you how much I don’t care about your expensive dress if you come into the ER. Zero-fucks-given! I may not ever be the picture of perfection or beauty, and that's ok. I work twelve-hour days, wear scrubs to work that most days get covered in bodily fluids-making showering mandatory! My hair is rarely done because it’s easier to keep it in a bun. I sweat, cry, run, have panic attacks; I see patients on their worst days and pray to God that I don’t have to tell the parents of the kid that was just brought in on a stretcher they’ll never be able to see their smiling face ever again! I put all of myself into each person that comes through the door, so excuse me if I give no fucks about your vanity or your Jimmy Choo’s or any of your first world problems!” You can feel the redness in your cheeks as you finish telling Bucky's date off.

None of the three-other people in the room made any movement or sound. If a pin were to drop, everyone would hear it. Your words had left them all speechless, trying to process the impact of what was said. When the silence was broken after several tense moments, it wasn’t the voice you had most expected...instead, the voice that broke the tension was the very man that had invited this woman in your shared apartment in the first place.  

“You should go.” Bucky's tone was flat and void of any emotion.

“Are you serious?!” She questions him with raised eyebrows.

“Leave. Now!” He says with a little more force when she made no attempt to remove herself from the chair.  

The second time was more effective, and she got up with a huff and stomped her way over to the door. “Hope you know I'll always remember this, James!” She yells back at him when she opens the door.

“I'm counting on it!” He smirks back at her, immediately watching her throw her middle finger up at him as she exits the apartment, slamming the door behind her.  

You look over the two men left in the room, Steve sitting there still stunned, Bucky's head now lowered in the direction of his long-forgotten food. “Steve can you give us a moment?” Bucky says never looking up.

“Yeah, I-uh, I'm-I'll just go for a walk.” Steve stutters, getting up from the table and heading to the door. “Let me know if you need anything!” Looking back at you, walking out quieter than the woman who left just a few minutes prior.

“Why didn't you tell me?” The door has only just closed when the words come from his mouth.

“Would it have mattered?” You're still standing near the table, not moving from the spot you had planted yourself at earlier.

“I had no idea. I thought-I thought you didn't see me like that.” Bucky finally look up at you with a soft smile on his face. It's a smile not used often, but one you've seen him direct at you on more than one occasion.  

“It doesn't matter…,” you fold your arms to your chest embracing for the impending rejection, “I've seen the girls you've brought back for my approval. I will never be your type.” You lower your eyes no longer able to look in his direction.  

Bucky stands up and walks over to you, placing his hands on your upper arms. “Hey, look at me.” His voice is soft, and you slowly look up and into his blue eyes. Bucky pauses, taking in the sight of you looking at him and a loving grin appears on his face. “You've always been my type.” He whispers and moves in, placing his lips to yours in a kiss that should have happened so long ago.

It starts out slow, both of you testing the waters, but increases in intensity as time passes by. Your arms are no longer to your chest and have made their way to the back of his neck, caressing it softly. Neither one of you wants to stop, but you know you need to before things get even more heated than they already are; so, you pull back, breaking the kiss, both of you out of breath and panting for air.

“That was-”

“Long overdue.” Bucky interrupts, but his observation is spot on. “You don't know how long I've wanted to do that!” Bucky laughs and rests his forehead on yours.

“Seriously, Barnes?! Why the hell did you keep bringing those girls home?” You push him off you but are grinning ear to ear.

“Because you didn't show an interest-ouch!” You reached out and smacked his arm, not hard, but enough to cause a reaction.  

“For fuck sakes, all those women I had to meet! Ugh! Un-fucking-real, asshole!” You were yelling, but it was more of an excited, happy yell. The revelation of Bucky having feelings for you was all you ever wanted. You had every right to be happy in this moment.  

“So, what now?” You ask him, and he moves over and places his hands on your hips.

“Well I was hoping we'd start out with a date, followed by lots of kissing, a declaration of love, and a happily ever after?” Bucky placed his lips to you in another soft kiss. It's gentle and full of promise and you could get used to this every day.  

“As long as you leave your first world problems at the door, I'm all in!”

Bucky laughs and nods in agreement. “From now on, you're my only first world problem.”