#but by the end fully giving up on the idea. giving up on

[cybershock24601]

I was doing some brainstorming on what the Rookanis kiddos would be like and it's somehow turned into me contemplating how the inevitable crow civil war would go after Lucanis ditches the crows after he has kids.

So I was thinking that when rookanis finally has kids, they end up with a set of twin boys (one is definitely named Ezio) and that ends up bringing up a lot of emotions for Lucanis because its one thing to contemplate how his kid is going to be raised as a crow but it is a whole other to see the very obvious parallel between these two innocent baby boys and himself and Illario. Lucanis just can't stop thinking about his boys growing up the same way he did with Illario and the inevitable resentment and pain that would come with constantly being forced to compete for a title.

When the babies are a couple months old, Lucanis finally tells Rook he thinks they should leave because he cannot raise their children to be crows and Rook is like "thank the maker, I've been thinking we should ditch for months but haven't been sure how to bring it up" and so that night the two of them start planning their exit strategy. They decide to wait until the boys are a bit older because going on the run with two infants seems like a terrible idea and it will give them time to figure out how to best avoid the inevitable reprisal Lucanis will face for leaving because you don't just leave the Antivan Crows without consequence.

Unfortunately those plans are shot when another Talon decides to get rid of these future competitors while they're still in the crib. Thankfully the assassin fails but it spooks rookanis bad. Caterina is ready to go to war for this, but Lucanis isn't willing to risk his family for a stupid title he never even wanted in the first place. He is not Caterina and he isn't willing to sacrifice his own children for power.

Just a couple weeks after the incident, Lucanis, Rook, and their two boys disappear into the night, sneaking out of the same tunnel he and Rook snuck in through the same night Lucanis was appointed First Talon. All that's left behind is two letters from Lucanis, one addressed to Caterina and one left to Illario. Caterina and Illario never discuss the contents of their individual letters but it is clear whatever Lucanis said to Caterina wounded her deeply. Illario can't help but be hurt Lucanis left without a word but bitterly understands why he did because even if they had done a lot of work to repair their relationship, Illario's betrayal was a wound that never fully healed. As much as it hurts, Illario gets why Lucanis wouldn't trust him enough to tell him that he wanted to leave the Crows.

In the wake of the First Talons abrupt abdication, Caterina goes to take up the mantle again but Lucanis' depature was a major blow to House Dellamorte. Caterina is an old woman and has no heir because its not like anyone is going to let Illario take the seat of First Talon after what he did last time he tried to claim it. It is inevitable that the Crows would descend into chaos as they all started jockeying for power. At least the chaos did keep a lot of crows from going after Lucanis and his family as they bounced around from place to place in an odd parallel to how the Hawke family spent their time on the run.

Teia immediately wants to jump in and assist Caterina but Viago convinces her to stay out of it because there is no point. They both know that without Lucanis, House Dellamorte is finished. It is best to sit back and let the other Houses exhaust themselves fighting amongst each other.

The fighting likely lasts for a few years and there are a lot of dead crows and dead Talons by the end of it. Caterina dies too though whether due to old age or she's eventually taken out by another Talon I haven't decided yet because after Lucanis left, something died in Caterina, perhaps because she finally had to face what had become of her family, what she had done to her family but she definitely lost some of the edge that kept her at the top for so long which made her easier prey. Lucanis is has a lot of feelings about his grandmother dying whether its due to not being by her side or he feels responsible for her death if she was killed by another crow, he is left to deal with a lot of confusing emotions mostly rooted in mix of guilt and grief.

By the end of it, Viago manages to swoop in after most of the other houses have exhausted themselves fighting and take the seat of First Talon in a magnificently executed coup. As his closet ally, Teia ends up in the spot of Second Talon and between her idealism and Viago's pragmatism, the Crows do enter a period of reform and start to become the symbol of Antivan patriotism and pride they appear like in Veilguard.

Illario manages to emerge out of the chaos alive and even keeps House Dellamorte intact as he takes the now vacant role of Fifth Talon. It stings that Illario is not First Talon but there is a vicious sense of satisfaction in managing to secure his own spot as a Talon through his own merit because no one can deny that Illario earned his position, that Illario is a good crow.

Meanwhile Lucanis and Rook are vibing as they travel around Thedas for the first few years of their boys' lives before eventually settling in the Necropolis and raising a lot more babies there. Rook is happy to be home because that what the Necropolis is to her and Lucanis misses Treviso and his family and has the occasional thought of what could have been but is happier taking care of his home and raising his children with his loving, amazing wife as Lucanis Ingellvar then he ever was living the life dictated for him from birth as Lucanis Dellamorte. There is an undeniable sense of freedom in shedding the Dellamorte name and becoming someone new as Lucanis finally lives the life he wants for himself.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

I never really liked how my Solavellan prose-poem Like Teeth Against His Heart looked when formatted on tumblr, and since the @solamancyzine zine itself is no longer available for sale digitally or physically, I thought it'd be nice to upload how it appeared on the pages itself instead here as a record. When I was writing it part of the fun/challenge was making sure the lines would fit in booklet spacing without too many awkward gaps, or overflowing.

since there's too much to put in the alt text per image here for accessibility: here's the prior tumblr upload (as text not images) but it's slightly better on AO3 though... it still sucks to view on phone there. that is the danger of poetry with special alignment I guess!

The layout design & other zine in-line art was done by Patricia Vi/kiwipon :)

[meazalykov]

everybody moved on, but I stayed there

barcelona femeni x bayern frauen x reader

summary: its hard to adjust when you thought your old life would be your only life

warnings: angst

the call came early in the morning, the kind of call you had always dreaded but never truly believed would come. 

your agent’s voice on the other end of the line was steady, professional, but it carried a weight that crushed you the moment they spoke.  

“barcelona isn’t offering a renewal,” they said, their tone careful, like they knew the devastation these words would bring.  

you sat in your small apartment, the sunlight streaming through the window, mocking you with its warmth. the city outside was alive as always, the sound of bustling streets filling the background, but inside, you felt frozen. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“they’re making some tough financial decisions,” your agent explained, trying to soften the blow. 

“it’s not about your performance. you’ve been phenomenal, but they’re restructuring. you know how it is... fighting for spots in the best team in the world. unfortunately, they’ve decided to let your contract expire.”  

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you had spent three years at barcelona, pouring your heart and soul into everything. you had thought this was your forever, the club you would retire at, the city you would grow old in.  

“so, that’s it?” you said after a long silence. 

“i’m just... done here?”  

your agent hesitated, then sighed. 

“i know this is hard, but listen. you’re one of the best defenders in the world. clubs are already reaching out, and we have options. lyon, chelsea, orlando, bayern munich—they’re all interested. they’re practically throwing themselves at the chance to sign you.”  

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. the idea of leaving barcelona, leaving everything you had built here, felt impossible.  

“y/n?” your agent’s voice broke through your haze. 

“i know this is tough, but you need to think about your next step. you have a bright future ahead of you. you can be at a club that actually wants to keep you.”  

you hung up soon after, unable to stomach the conversation any longer. the rest of the day passed in a blur. you avoided your teammates, knowing the questions and the pitying looks they would give you.

the decision wasn’t even yours to make, but the weight of it pressed down on you like it was. every day at training, you felt it in the pit of your stomach, an ache that wouldn’t go away. you tried to mask it—forcing a smile here and there, going through the motions during drills—but it didn’t take long for your teammates to notice.  

you looked down at your training kits and game kits everyday since that phone call, knowing this would be your final weeks wearing the barcelona name. 

“are you okay?” alexia asked one afternoon after practice, her voice gentle. she had always been perceptive, her captain’s instincts sharp. you nodded quickly, brushing her off with a vague excuse about being tired. 

she didn’t press, but her eyes lingered on you, worried.  

by the time the news had fully sunk in, you could hardly meet anyone’s gaze. every touch of the ball, every shared laugh in the locker room, felt like another goodbye you weren’t ready to say.  

you hadn’t been yourself on the pitch, your passes lacking their usual precision, your tackles hesitant. when the session ended, everyone filed into the dressing room, chatting and laughing as always, but you stayed silent, your head down as you untied your boots.  

keira, sitting next to you, noticed your distant expression. she nudged your shoulder lightly. 

“what’s up with you today? you’ve been... off.”  

you froze, the question catching you off guard. for a moment, you thought about brushing it off again, but something about the concern in her voice broke the wall you’d been holding up for weeks. your hands trembled as you placed your boots down, and before you could stop it, tears welled up in your eyes.  

the room fell silent as everyone noticed. keira leaned closer, her voice soft. 

“y/n? what’s wrong?”  

you took a shaky breath, your voice breaking as you finally spoke. “i have to leave,” you said, the words feeling like shards of glass in your throat. 

“barcelona isn’t renewing my contract.”  

gasps echoed around the room, followed by an overwhelming silence. the weight of your confession seemed to crush the air out of the space.  

“what do you mean they’re not renewing your contract?” aitana asked, her voice sharp with disbelief.  

“i thought you’d be here forever,” vicky added, her brow furrowed.  

you shook your head, wiping at your face as the tears kept falling. 

“i thought so too. but... they said it’s financial. they can’t offer me a new deal. it’s not up to me.”  

“no,” mariona said quietly, standing up and crossing the room to sit beside you. her arm wrapped around your shoulders as she pulled you close. 

“this can’t be happening.”  

you leaned into her, the comfort of her presence grounding you as sobs shook your body. mariona held you tightly, her own voice breaking as she whispered, 

“i understand. i know what it’s like. i’m leaving too, remember? i thought this was my forever club, just like you. sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to. you’ll be okay, nina.”  

the rest of the team sat in stunned silence, the reality sinking in. salma finally spoke, her voice steady but full of emotion. 

“this isn’t fair. you've tried your hardest for this team. we’ve all seen it.”  

“it’s not fair,” you agreed, your voice barely audible. 

“but it’s happening. and i have to accept it, sal.”  

mapi, sitting across from you, shook her head. 

“accept it? no, we’re not accepting this. you’re one of us. no matter where you go, you’ll always be one of us.”  

their words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they weren’t entirely from sadness. amidst the heartbreak, there was comfort in knowing how much you meant to them.  

mariona squeezed your shoulder, her voice warm despite the sadness in her eyes.

“wherever you go, they’re lucky to have you. it’s okay to be upset right now. we’re upset too, you’ll grow to love your new club just as much as you love us.”  

you nodded, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “i’m going to miss all of you so much,” you said, your voice trembling.  

“we’re going to miss you too,” keira said softly, and a murmur of agreement swept through the room.  

the rest of the evening passed in a haze of hugs, tears, and promises to stay in touch. mariona stayed by your side the entire time, her presence a constant source of comfort. as someone who was also leaving, she understood your pain in a way no one else could.  

when you finally left the locker room that night, the reality of your departure felt a little less heavy. your teammates’ love and support reminded you that even though you were leaving barcelona, you would always carry a part of it with you.

alexia tried to talk to you after everyone left, her voice soft.  

“we’ll miss you,” she said, her eyes searching yours for any sign of emotion.  

you forced a smile, nodding as your throat tightened. “i’ll miss you too.” but even as you said the words, it didn’t feel real.  

packing up your life in barcelona was harder than you expected. every corner of your apartment, every street you walked, every café you passed, was filled with memories. leaving felt like abandoning a part of yourself.  

when the offer from bayern munich came, you accepted it with a numb sense of duty. it wasn’t excitement that drove your decision, but necessity. you couldn’t stay in barcelona, and bayern seemed like the best option.  

the first few weeks in munich were strange. the city was beautiful, the people were welcoming, but it didn’t feel like home. 

your new teammates were kind, going out of their way to include you in team dinners and outings. georgia took you out for coffee, and sydney invited you over for dinner. they made an effort, but no matter how hard they tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider.  

“how are you settling in?” klara asked one evening after training. the two of you were stretching on the pitch as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the stadium.  

you shrugged, avoiding her gaze. 

“it’s... fine.”  

klara gave you a sympathetic look. 

“it’ll feel like home eventually. i know how you feel.. just give it time.”  

you nodded, but deep down, you weren’t so sure.  

despite your inner turmoil, your performance on the pitch was stellar. you threw yourself into training, determined to prove that you belonged. the bayern fans quickly grew to love you, chanting your name in the stands during every match.

even as you celebrated victories with your new team, a part of you longed for the camaraderie you had at barcelona.  

when you heard about barcelona’s successes, you felt a pang of jealousy. not because you wanted them to fail, but because you wished you were still a part of it.  

“do you ever talk to them?” georgia asked one day as the two of you sat in the locker room after a match.  

“sometimes,” you admitted, scrolling through your phone. your former teammates still messaged you, names like esmee, alexia, and keira lighting up your screen with texts like, “we miss you,” and “come visit soon.” but it wasn’t the same.  

months passed, and slowly, you began to find your footing in munich. 

when bayern beat real madrid in the champions league quarterfinals, you felt a surge of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. the way the team celebrated in the locker room reminded you of the joy you used to feel at barcelona after an el clasico game against the same time you played tonight. 

for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe you could be happy here.  

then, the semifinal draw happened. bayern munich vs. barcelona. 

your stomach twisted when you saw it. the thought of facing your old team felt like a cruel twist of fate.  

“are you ready for this?” sydney asked as the team prepared for the first leg in munich.  

“i don’t know,” you admitted.  

the match was intense. you found yourself marking aitana, the two of you locked in a fierce battle throughout the game. every time she tried to break through, you were there, blocking her path. 

by the end of the match, it was 1-1, with goals from alexia and pernille.  

“good game,” alexia said afterward as the two of you crossed paths in the tunnel. there was a flicker of something in her eyes—pride, maybe? or nostalgia? you couldn’t tell.  

“thanks,” you replied, your voice tight.  

the second leg in barcelona felt different. walking into the stadium, you expected to feel a sense of loss, but instead, you felt... content. 

this was your old home, but it didn’t define you anymore.  

however, your heart thumped in your chest, not from nerves—at least, that’s what you told yourself—but from the weight of what this game meant. the second leg of the champions league semifinal. bayern munich vs. barcelona. your old club vs. your new club.  

giulia adjusted her captain’s armband slightly beside you as your hands steady on your mascot’s shoulders.. despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. the kid mascot looked up at you with her wide eyes, clutching your hand tightly. 

you smiled down at the young girl, offering a small squeeze of reassurance, even though you could have used some yourself.  

the players began walking out, the bright lights of the stadium flooding your vision as the roar of the crowd hit you like a tidal wave. it was deafening. thousands of voices chanting, cheering, and shouting in a language that used to feel like your own.  

you stepped onto the pitch, the familiar sight of camp nou stretching out before you. the stands were a sea of red and blue. 

for a moment, you felt a flicker of encouragement, a warmth in your chest. this was barcelona—this was home.  

wait a minute??? it's not. you cringed as reality hit, sharp and unforgiving. the cheers weren’t for you. not anymore. they were for the players in blaugrana, for the badge you no longer wore. 

you were bayern now. the crowd that once lifted you, chanted your name, celebrated your every move—they were now cheering against you.  

the realization stung more than you wanted to admit. your steps faltered slightly as you made your way to the center of the pitch, your head held high despite the ache in your heart.  

yet, amidst the overwhelming roar of the home fans, another sound reached your ears. it was faint at first, but it grew louder the more you focused on it. the bayern munich away fans, tucked into a corner of the massive stadium, were cheering for your team. 

their voices didn’t carry the same weight in numbers, but there was something in their tone—raw, passionate, unwavering—that hit you differently.  

they went through the lineup and gave the girls name chants. after pernille, they started chanting your name. your name.  

the sound of their voices cut through the noise of the home crowd, filling you with a strange sense of belonging. they weren’t just cheering for bayern; they were cheering for you.  

you straightened your posture, a quiet resolve settling over you. 

the kid beside you tugged at your hand, pulling your attention back. you smiled down at them again, this time with a bit more confidence.  

the anthem began playing, and you sang along quietly, your voice steady as the camera panned across the line of players. the stadium was exciting, the tension building as kickoff loomed.  

as the anthem ended and the players began to move into position, you took one last glance at the crowd. the cheers for barcelona still rang loud and proud, but the bayern fans’ voices echoed in your ears, grounding you in the moment.  

you were here for them now. and for yourself.  

the whistle blew, and the game began.

this game was one of the best of your career. you cleared shots from ewa, stopped aitana in her tracks, and made a crucial save against kika nazareth-- a forward you never got to play with. 

when you took a corner kick in the 89th minute, you didn’t expect anything to come of it. but the ball curved perfectly, slipping past cata and into the net.  

the stadium fell silent for a moment before erupting into german chaos. your jaw dropped as you covered your mouth in disbelief. your teammates swarmed you, their joy infectious.  

however, you didn’t celebrate. you couldn’t. out of respect for the club that gave you everything, you simply walked back to your position, your head held high.  

after the final whistle blew, bayern advanced to the final with a 3-1 aggregate score. as you walked off the pitch, you avoided looking at your former teammates. you were afraid of what you might see in their eyes—anger, disappointment, betrayal.  

later that night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed with a message from alexia. 

“we are proud of you. good luck in the final :)”  

it took you a moment to process her words. maybe they didn’t hate you after all.  

as bayern prepared for the champions league final against manchester city, you felt lighter. the weight of barcelona no longer pressed down on you like it used to. 

you would always cherish your time there, but you were starting to realize that your future was here, with bayern.  

and for the first time, you were okay with that.  

masterlist

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private Session - part three

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He pays her for private sessions, in which he gets to take her home and do whatever he pleases. When he finds out Barry has been selling you to customers, he gets jealous. After you're short on a payment for Barry, he makes you pay in a different way. Rafe eventually finds out and he's not happy. Can Rafe get you out of this sticky situation?

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs, violence (fighting), death threats, guns, p in v, unprotected sex, language, praise, SMUT!, use of y/n like one time.

Word Count: 5.0k

Author Note: Hey babes! I originally got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. Some of this part was inspired by Dexter s7 ep9. This fic is NOT fully proofread. I'm SO SO SO sorry for being so inactive :(

This is the last part of Private Sessions! I'm actually pretty pleased with how this fic ended up, since it was only meant to be one part. If I get requests relating to this, or if I get struck with random inspiration, I'm not against writing more for this!

Credits: GIF from this post

After you’d hooked up with Rafe–well, you wouldn't exactly call it a hook up. After you had another private session with Rafe, your top paying client, also the entire reason you’re now a hooker, you stayed the night at his place. That morning, following the many, many orgasms he had gotten out of you and the half-hearted ‘goodnights’ you two had exchanged before falling asleep, Rafe had left you alone. He had woken you up, briefly mumbling to you about having some business to attend to, making sure you know that you’re allowed to stay for however long you please. Before leaving, Rafe gathered your scattered clothing and left it in a neat pile on one of the chairs in his bedroom. On top of the pile, he left you money. Sure, he had already given you nearly a thousand dollars for your time, but he felt that you deserved a tip, so he left a crisp hundred-dollar bill for you to find, as well as money to call an uber, since he’s unable to give you a ride back.

Of course this kind of treatment was completely unbeknownst to you. You had never expected Rafe Cameron to treat women this well, especially those he has to pay to fuck. But you’re not complaining. Your other clients never even spare a thought about how you feel, it’s only about them. But Rafe…he makes sure you feel good. He wants you to feel good. He cares about making sure you get what you need more than he cares about his own experience. This isn’t just confusing to you, since he’s also wondering why he cares, or why he’s even paying for you specifically when he has a variety of women he could fuck for free. All he knows is that he needs more of you–he needs to make things right with you somehow.

After you left his house later that morning, you had gone back to work. Barry wasn’t happy with you, you hadn’t come back like he asked last night. He needed you to work the floor, since you’re the ‘star’ of the club–the favorite. Which, all that means to you is that Barry’s got you working unreasonable hours.

“Shit…” he huffs, taking in your appearance as you show up at the club. Since it’s still morning, nobody else was there. You really had hoped he wasn’t there either, just wanting to get in, grab your shit, and go home. But of course that wasn’t the case. You stand there, gathering your items from your locker, feeling smaller with each passing second that he stares at you, laughing at your disheveled appearance. You had stolen some of Rafe’s clothes since you didn’t feel like wearing that tiny, itchy little dress you had left in last night. 

“I’ll be back for my shift tomorrow.” You tell him as you try to leave the room. However, he moves to block the doorway, causing you to pause, looking down at the ground with a huff, trying to keep your cool.

“Where’s my money, princess?” Barry asks, his voice cold. You sigh, having forgotten. You reach into your duffle bag, pulling out the cash Rafe gave you for your most recent session. You do the math in your head, determining what 25% of your earnings are. You round his cut up to about $300, handing him the cash.

“There.” You shove the money into his chest. “Your cut.”

Barry chuckles at your attitude, clearly not appreciating it. His hand lingers on yours for longer than what’s needed as he grabs the cash from you. He quickly counts the bills in his hand, sighing and looking back up at you. “This is all? You were gone all night and this…” he waves the cash in front of your face. “This is all you’ve got for me.”

You swallow roughly, nodding at him. “That’s 25%.” You say, keeping your voice strong. “And then some.” you add, with a bit less confidence this time, knowing it’s not enough to keep him from getting all worked up. 

Barry makes a small tsk sound, softly shaking his head. “How you gonna make this up to me then, hm?” 

“That’s your cut. I’m off today, so…I, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You try to move past him, but he grabs onto your shoulder, stopping you.

“Nah…no, I don’t think so. You were out all night, not my fault you settled for less than your rate.” Barry still thinks you had gone with the client you were meant to meet last night, not knowing you went off with Rafe. Not that it would change anything if he did know. Really, Rafe had actually overpaid, again, for your time and effort. But, you hadn’t planned on staying the night in his bed, he had just pushed you past what you could handle, tiring the both of you out. So you get why he thinks you were underpaid. “Not my fault you stayed out all night, like a real fuckin’ slut.” His words cause you to wince, you hated being called that, because you aren’t a slut. You never chose to sell out your body, you just need the money.

Barry can see the fire behind your eyes, the calm demeanor you try so hard to maintain threatening to snap any moment now. He can tell he’s getting under your skin, which makes him enjoy this all the more. “You’re gonna pay for your mistakes.” You can feel his grip on your shoulder tighten as his eyes scour your clothed figure as you two stand in the doorway.

“Barry, please. I need that money, It’s my money. We made a deal, and you got your cut.” You plead, except your voice isn’t polite and soft like usual, you’re clearly pissed. 

“Well…that’s not the only way.” He starts. You have a confused expression etched onto your face as he speaks. “You can always put in some hours today…” he explains, his hand dropping from your shoulder to the hem of the t-shirt you stole from Rafe. 

“But, we’re closed?” You remind him. “I guess…I guess I can come back later for a few hours.”

“No.” He leans in closer, smirking. His mouth is almost touching the shell of your ear, close enough that you can feel his hot, sticky breath against your skin. “You’re gonna put some time in right now. A little private session, hm?” His hand moves around to your backside, slowly trailing down the curve of your lower back. 

You recognize this tone of voice, the suggestion of his words hanging in the air heavily. Really, you can’t say no. Because there’s no fucking way you’re giving him another cent of your hard earned cash. So, you reluctantly agree.

Barry wants the full show, so he makes you get into uniform. He even went through your things, picking out what he wants you to wear. And of course he picks your newest pieces of lingerie, the ones Rafe had just gifted you last night. The one he told you was for his eyes only, which you had fully intended to honor his request, but you couldn’t say no to your boss. Barry had turned on all the club’s lights and music, setting the perfect scene for you both. He takes you into one of the private rooms. 

First, he has you start off slow, just simply sucking him off. After that, he makes you dance for him for what feels like an hour, until he’s hard again and ready for more. He fucks you. Though it doesn’t last long, which you’re glad, since he’s not giving any regard to how you feel. He fucks you selfishly, using you however he pleases. The only thing he does that shows any sort of regard or care for you is not finishing inside you, instead making you swallow his loads. After a couple of hours, he finally lets you leave, saying that you’re all paid up…for now. You figure that since he’s crossed this line with you, it’s not going to be the last. Knowing Barry he’ll be making up absurd excuses to make you ‘pay’ some more. 

You feel disgusting, so immediately you go home and shower, scrubbing any trace of him off of you. As you stand in front of the mirror wrapped in a towel, you observe the various marks covering your body from your clients. You hate the proof they leave on you, proof that you’re a hooker. You glance at the newer, more vibrant marks on your neck, you can’t help but smile a bit as you run your fingers over the bruised skin, remembering how Rafe has created them. Once you realize that you’re smiling at his memory, you immediately stop, shaking the thoughts out of your head.

The next day you return to work, absolutely dreading having to face Barry. Not only him, but you’re getting really over having sex with these wrinkly, old, men who can’t even get it up without taking a little pill. Each session you have with a client chipping a small part of yourself away. As you enter the staff room, you practically run into Rafe’s chest, his hands coming up to rest on your shoulders, stopping you. The two of you make brief eye contact before he walks out of the room that you’re entering. Barry stands in the center of the room, shaking his head as he looks up at you.

“Well shit,” he scoffs, rubbing a rough hand over his face. “Some boyfriend you got, huh?” Your eyebrows furrow immediately. Barry notices the crease between your brows. “Looks like you’ve only got one client now.” He chuckles.

“Wait…Rafe talked to you?” You ask, wondering if he was being truthful when he said he’d talk to Barry for you. 

“Yeah, Rafe. But don’t think that means you ain’t gonna get more hours on the floor. I ain’t losin’ my main source of cash just ‘cause your boyfriend’s a little jealous.”

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and tell him that he’s not your boyfriend. You can tell he’s pissed and doesn’t want to listen to Rafe. Which makes you wonder how he got Barry to agree to this, since you are the ‘star’ of the club. Barry scoffs, walking out into the main portion of the club. 

You feel like a major weight has been lifted off your chest, feeling so much better now that you don’t have to sell out your body. Well, other than when you’re dancing. But that’s different. At least nobody has to touch you anymore…other than those who you actually want touching you. 

After changing and getting prepared, you work the pole per usual. About an hour into your shift, you spot Rafe sitting across the club, getting a lap dance from one of the other dancers, except he looks like he could care less about her–he’s looking at you. You’re not jealous–no, definitely not. Why would you be jealous? He’s just your client; your customer. You make eye contact with him and instead of looking away, you find yourself staring right back at him while you dance.

On your break, you make your way into the back room, where a few of the other girls are also taking their break. You’ve never had problems with the other girls, but you’ve never called them friends either, just coworkers. You can hear them talking before you enter the room, and when you walk in, suddenly it’s silent as their heads turn to you. You ignore their stares, heading over to the fridge to grab a yogurt. You hear their whispers as you turn your back to them. 

“She’s fucking the boss.” One of them says earning a few gasps and a ‘really?’ from the others. “Yeah, I heard she doesn’t have to take clients anymore.” She responds. 

Another girl adds, “shit, I’d fuck him too if it meant I’d get special treatment”, earning laughs from everyone in the room. You take a deep breath, slamming the fridge closed and turning to face them. 

“I’m not getting special treatment!” You say harshly, a stark contrast to your typical shy demeanor. 

“So you’re not fucking him?” 

You’re so engulfed in frustration that you don’t even notice Rafe and Barry walk into the room. “Okay yeah, I fucked Barry once but it was because–” you don’t get to finish explaining before you’re cut off by Rafe’s sharp voice, which startles you.

“You fucked my girl?” He snaps at Barry. In which Barry just smirks in response, only serving to further piss Rafe off. 

“They’re my girls while they’re working. And I gotta say, she takes her job very seriously–”. Before Barry can get anything else out Rafe cuts him off with a quick punch to the jaw, causing him to tumble back. You jump back as all the other girls collectively gasp, but they know better than to intervene. Barry rubs his Jaw, standing up straight and chuckling dryly. 

“Country Club,” he laughs. “You really wanna do this, huh? All for a fuckin’ slut?” Rafe steps forward, punching Barry again before looking up at the others in the room.

“Get the fuck out!” He shouts before looking at Barry, moving to punch him again as the others quickly scurry out of the room. You stay, shocked at the event unfolding in front of you–because of you. The fight continues, Barry trying to fight back as best he can, but he’s no match for Rafe, especially since he’s got no motivation. 

Barry manages to get a few punches in, making Rafe step back for a moment. You see him reach into the back of his jeans, grabbing the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. You gasp again when you see the gun and step back until your back hits a wall. You know Rafe’s involved in some bad shit and you’re used to seeing him use cocaine, but you’re not used to him having a gun, especially with it being pointed at someone. Before you have time to even think, Rafe hits Barry with his gun, pistol whipping him and making him fall to the floor. 

Rafe leans forward over Barry, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling his head up until they’re face-to-face. “Call her a slut again–touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.” He spits, letting go of Barry, making his head drop back against the floor, all bloodied and bruised. You make yourself look away, not wanting to see the damage Rafe did–the damage you caused. “Consider this her notice.” He mutters quickly, tucking the gun back into his waistband as he turns to face you. “Let’s go.” He says quickly, moving to walk out of the room. But you can’t move, you’re still in shock from what you just witnessed. When Rafe turns around and sees that you’re following him he lets out a sharp breath, walking over to you and grabbing you by the arm. “I said let’s go.” His words are demanding and mean, different from the way he typically talks to you. His eyes are cold and distant as he tugs you out of the room, through the club. The others watch him drag you away, not daring to say a word as they stare. 

Rafe takes you out to the parking lot, shoving you into his truck. You still haven’t even spoken a word by the time you get to his house. He pulls into the driveway, putting his truck in park and killing the engine. He speaks, still looking straight out of the windshield and not daring to look at you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” His voice isn’t as rough anymore, though still distant. You don’t respond which makes him look over you after a few silent moments. “I said m’sorry.” His voice is a bit louder, making you jump back in your seat. 

“I heard.” You mumble coldly. 

Rafe scoffs at your mumbles, feeling like you should be grateful for what he did for you. But you’re the exact opposite. You can’t let yourself feel relieved that you don’t have to work for Barry anymore. Because that was your job. And unlike Rafe, you actually need a job to survive. Plus, you have no idea what you’ve gotten into with Rafe now. You think back to what he had said to Barry just before the fight. He called you his girl. What the fuck does that mean?

His strong grip pulls you out of your thoughts as he tugs out of his truck, bringing you inside his house. He gets you up to his bedroom and you sit on the bed, just thinking in an uncomfortable silence. You blame this on yourself. You’re the reason the other girls have to sell themselves, because you fucked Rafe…and you can’t stop fucking him. You’re the reason they’re in that hell, and you got out of it because of Rafe. It’s not fair to them. And you’re the reason Rafe nearly killed the man he’s closest to. 

You watch as Rafe goes into the adjoining bathroom, trying to wash the blood off of his hands, which only reveals that his own knuckles are all battered and bloody. You get up from the bed, padding over to the bathroom. He sees you approach him in the mirror, he keeps his eyes on you. Silently, you tap his waist, signaling him to turn around. When he turns away from the sink, now leaning up against it instead as he watches you curiously. You carefully take his hands in yours, briefly examining them. “Here…” you let go, grabbing a nearby rag and getting it damp with warm water. “Let me…” you speak softly as you take one of his hands in your own, gently dabbing at his knuckles with the rag. He winces at the contact, “shit, I know, sorry. But I need to clean them.”

“S’fine.” He mutters. Not once does he take his eyes off of your face. He notices how your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you focus, making the slightest hint of a grin form, which you don’t notice of course since you’re too busy cleaning his knuckles. 

You finish one hand, now cleaning the other which isn’t quite as bad since it’s his non-dominant hand. Once you’re done, you look up at him. He’s standing so close you can practically feel his breath on your face as he stares down at you. Now that you’re finally looking at him for the first time since the fight, you see the bruise forming on his jaw and the slight blood stain at the corner of his mouth. You lift your hand up, gently caressing the bruise. You can tell he wants to wince, but he doesn’t let himself, not wanting you to pull your hand away. The tension is so thick it’s almost visible; the silence unbearable. The only sound being that of both of you breathing. 

“About Barry–” you start, feeling like you need to explain why you had slept with him. But Rafe doesn’t let you finish, walking away into his bedroom.

“Doesn’t matter.” He speaks sharply as he strips down into his boxers, setting his gun in the top drawer of his nightstand. You follow behind him.

“No, please just let me–” you cut yourself off, annoyed at the fact that he’s avoiding looking at you. You step closer behind him, gently touching his arm which makes him finally turn around. “Rafe…”

“What?” Rafe snaps, his eyes making uncomfortable eye contact with you, but you don’t turn away. 

“He made me give him a private session. ‘Said I didn’t bring back enough money for him. I had to. It was that or give him my money, b-but I need that money. I swear I didn’t want to-” You ramble, not sure why you even care to explain yourself to him, it’s not like you need to. 

“Jesus, shut up. I don’t care, alright? Just go to bed.” He waves your hand off of his arm, turning his back to you again as he pulls the comforter back and gets under it. 

You want to ask why you’re even here with him. He brought you here to…sleep? Why? But, you decide against it. Instead, you just walk over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt. You quickly strip out of your “uniform”, feeling his eyes burn holes into you as you change into his clothes. You turn the bedroom light off on your way back to the bed. You climb in next to him, keeping somewhat of a distance between you two. You’re not exactly sure where he stands in all this or what you are. You wait for him to make a move and get closer,but he doesn’t. You both just lie there in silence. Eventually you start to doze off, but are immediately woken up by the faint sound of a car pulling up, followed by some shouting. 

“Rafe Cameronn,” the voice calls out, soon banging on the door. It’s Barry. Fuck. 

You jolt up, but Rafe is already out of bed, pulling on a shirt and sweats, quickly getting downstairs to the door before Barry lets himself in. 

Still feeling loopy from sleep, you sit in bed, listening to what’s happening. You can only hear shouting between the two, but you can’t tell what they’re saying. You leave Rafe’s room, walking more towards the front of the house where you can slightly make out the conversation. 

You hear Rafe yell, “The fuck is wrong with you? Did you not hear me say I’ll fucking kill you, huh?! Because I will. You know I will.”

“Nah,” Barry laughs. “I don’t think you will, country club.”

“You’re fucking dead.”

“No, you are.” Barry responds. 

When it gets silent, you get worried and peek out one of the windows facing the front of the house. “Fuck!” You panic when you notice that Barry has a gun pulled on Rafe, Rafe with his hands up. He doesn’t have his gun. You run back into Rafe’s room, grabbing his gun from inside his nightstand before you get the chance to think about what you’re doing. After fiddling with it for a moment, you manage to get the safety off.

You rush downstairs and with a deep breath, you swing open the front door, stepping outside with the gun raised, pointing it right at Barry. “Put it down.” You say weakly. Barry laughs at you, which is probably reasonable, you probably look ridiculous standing there with a gun, your hands shaking. You repeat yourself with more confidence and higher volume this time. “Put the fucking gun down! I swear to god I’ll fucking shoot!” You’d never pictured yourself like this. Hell, you’ve never even touched a gun before. And right now, it’s not the situation that scares you the most, but the fact that in this moment, if need be, you will pull the trigger. And it’s that fact that scares you. 

After some time, Barry gives a dry and defeated chuckle. “Alright, alright! Look,” he tosses the gun aside. You immediately move to give Rafe his gun and you stand behind his large frame. At this point, Barry knows he needs to accept the defeat. He knows he’s not gonna beat Rafe in this, not when it comes to you. “Fine, I’m leaving. I didn’t know she was yours like that, ‘aight? She’s done, she’s all yours now, Rafe.” Rafe slowly picks up his gun, tucking it into his waistband before retreating to his car. Once Barry finally drives off, Rafe lowers his gun.

Your heart is racing from the adrenaline. So when you both get inside, you’re practically jumping his bones before the door even closes. Rafe doesn’t protest. He carries you up to his room, dropping you down onto the bed. Quickly, he’s shedding his layers until he’s completely bare in front of you. You do the same. He stands over you, staring at you for a moment with a hungry look in his eyes, making you feel like prey. In one move, he’s on top of you, kissing you eagerly. Pulling back to nibble on your earlobe, whispering to you. “Fuck that was so fucking hot, baby. Saved my ass back there, huh?” 

“I…I couldn’t watch him hurt you.” Is all you say before his lips are on yours again, his hand that’s not propping him up over you traveling your naked body, quickly finding your clit. You’re glad because you didn’t want to have to explain any more, because you don’t know why you did what you did. Obviously you care for him in some weird, twisted way if you were willing to kill a man to protect him from being shot. 

His fingers start to circle your clit, making you moan into his mouth. You close your eyes in pleasure. Without warning he thrusts into you, gentler than your previous times with him. This time he actually gives you time to adjust. When he starts moving his hips against you, his thrusts are slow and sensual.

“Fuck…” you cry out. Your noises rile him up even more, he speeds up, finding the pace that makes you scream out his name. Your fingers dig into his muscular torso as he moves your legs to rest over his shoulders, making him hit the spongy spot deep inside of you. 

He leans down to kiss and nip at your neck, leaving faint marks behind. His lips trail lower and lower until he reaches your chest, latching onto one of your nipples. Between his unforgiving pace that he’s drilling into you at, his mouth on your chest, and his fingers teasing your clit; you’re seeing stars like you never have before. Your hips try wriggling away from the immense and almost unbearable pleasure, but he pulls you right back in even tighter.

“Fuck baby, so fuckin’ tight. Such a good girl f’me…” he groans against your chest, pressing quick, open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. “My fuckin’ good girl, yeah? All fuckin’ mine now…” he leans back to watch your face, noticing how your eyes are squeezed shut. He takes his hand away from your clit, grabbing your chin roughly. “Look at me.” Rafe demands. 

You obey, making direct eye contact with him as the band in your stomach snaps, releasing a burning heat that spreads throughout your entire body. His pace slows, working you through your high. Soon after, you feel the unforgivable feeling of him painting your insides with his hot, sticky release.

Eventually he stills inside of you, leaning down to kiss all over your body. When he’s fully soft, he pulls out and rolls off of you, laying on his side next to you. You catch your breath, turning on your side to face him. You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. “Holy fuck…” you mutter in disbelief. You hadn;t thought the last time with him could’ve been topped, but you’ve been proven wrong. Something about it was…different. This time, it wasn’t just sex and you knew it. 

He reaches out, his touch gentle now rather than rough and desperate. His hair sticking to his sweat-beaded forehead, the look in his eyes and the smile on his face making you melt. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Rafe…” you say, slightly turning your head. Which he just moves right back to face him. 

“What is it?” His tone is soft and caring, like he actually wants to know what’s got you so quiet. 

“Nothing…well, it…it’s just…” you pause, taking a deep breath before saying what you’re thinking. You prepare yourself for the worst. “You keep…you keep calling me your girl?” 

He questions you back in response, his tone carrying a more serious note this time. “Is that an issue?” He runs his thumb over your eyebrow, admiring your features.

“No…well…I, I guess I just don’t know what you mean.” You say honestly, making him breath out a quick sigh. Shit, you think. 

“I mean…you’re my girl, y/n. You don’t need a job, alright? I got plenty money for us both, yeah? You can stay here whenever you want. You’re mine…’n I’m yours, yeah? How’s that sound, hm?” You just stare at him for a bit, questioning if he really just asked that or your brain is making it up so you don’t have to deal with the embarrassment. “Y/n?” He repeats softly.

“Yea…yeah.” You stutter, making him chuckle at how flustered you are. “Like…boyfriend girlfriend?” 

He laughs at your question, finding it adorable. “Yeah, like boyfriend girlfriend.” Rafe reassures you, his hand moving from your face to brush through your hair again.

“Yes!” You spit out a little too eagerly. You quickly flash a bright shade of red in embarrassment. You gather yourself, speaking at a normal speed now, “yeah…um that, that sounds good. I like that.” You smile.

He slides in a quick “I like you.” He smirks, thinking he’s so smooth which makes you laugh. He pulls you in for a soft, tender kiss. Rafe pulls you in, wrapping an arm over you as your head rests on his bare chest. He pulls a sheet up over you both. 

You lie there in a comfortable silence. Just when you’re about to drift off you tilt your head up to look at him, and he’s already staring at you of course. You mumble, “thank you…f-for getting me outta that club.” You lay your head back down and tilts his own head down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thanks for saving me, baby.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!!! I love you so so so much!!! I just hit 200 followers and I'm shocked, I literally just started posting in the beginning of November, so this is insane. Also, HAPPY NEW YEARS!

Please leave requests! I can't promise I'll get to them all, but I really love receiving them and hearing feedback from you guys.

Taglist: @munsoncultedits

[your-hockey-mom]

Happy New Year!! Could you possibly do an imagine about kissing Q at midnight? Ty!!

10:43pm. 

Was it really New Year's Eve already? It was incredible how quickly the year had flow. So much had happened between Quinn and yourself; some for the better and worse. Right now, things were bad again. Not between the two of you, but with the team and with his ability to stay healthy. After healing fully from the high-sticking, you thought Quinn was going to get back to his old self, sniping wristers from the blue line and stacking up points for a back-to-back Norris run. Sadly, he was looking at another two to three weeks of off-ice rest, not counting the time off during Christmas. 

Quinn hadn't traveled to Calgary with the rest of the Canucks and you could feel the effects of Quinn not being with his boys while you sat beside him in his living room. He hadn't said a whole lot today, nor had you pressed him for conversation. If he wanted to talk, he knew you were available. Other than that, you had left him alone. However, it was nearing an hour from the new year and you were itching for something to do. 

"Wanna get dressed up and take a walk downtown?" You turned toward him on the sofa, crossing your legs up under you. You weren't sure how your proposition was going to over, but you would remain hopeful nonetheless. 

Quinn sighed deeply, "Not really. I'm not in a 'going out' mood. I'm sorry, sweetheart." He would look up from his phone and give you a sympathetic glance. It was all over his face that he had no interest in leaving his apartment that evening. Normally, you'd share that same sentiment, but New Year's was once a year, and it wasn't often that Quinn was home for the holiday. You just thought that maybe he would want something to get his mind off the raincloud over his head.

You both had watched the game together. He was tense the entire time, like he was on the bench and completely powerless to command this team. Everything was a struggle, but when they had finally tied it up there was some hope that they could still turn it around. Unfortunately, the score would end with a 3-1 Canucks loss and Quinn shaking his head. This was two games without their captain they would lose, and another two points they wouldn't be going home with. 

Leaving him alone with his thoughts and whatever business he was doing on his phone, you tried to keep yourself awake and the collective mood in the apartment from completely going to shit. Watching any kind of movie was out, because you knew his mind would be elsewhere, but what could you do where it wouldn't be back in the arena, replaying plays and fixing errors? You'd pout as you bounced from idea to idea before you felt your stomach grumble. 

"Wanna bake some cookies?"

This would cause him to put his phone down, like it had been the magic words he didn't know he needed to hear. "I'd actually love that."

You'd give him a warm, beaming smile before hopping to your feet and excitedly hurrying to the kitchen. Now, you nervously hoped that you actually had everything needed for cookies! 

"What do you need me to do?" Quinn would ask, looking at you on your tip-toes, going through the cabinet before finally getting up to help you. 

"Can you grab the eggs and butter? We should have enough eggs.... I hope so anyway!" You remarked nervously. 

"Sure," he replied flatly, taking a moment to scan the interior of the fridge. "Anything else?"

"Nope! That's it for the cold stuff, thank you."

"Mhm."

Quinn would shuffle around to the island, taking a seat while you messed about, adding more and more ingredients to the space in front of him. You knew he was trying his hardest to come off as happy, but you knew he was having a hard time. You wouldn't press him to cheer up, and if he had wanted to go back to the living room, leaving you to finish them, it wouldn't have bothered you.

"Sorry I'm not much help," he mumbled, like he had read your mind. 

"What? Oh, you're okay, baby! I'm glad you're here, that's enough!" Your smile had brought a little glimmer to his eyes while he continued to sit and watch. Quinn had been the only boyfriend you had had where just being in the same space with him brought you joy even if you were both doing different things. You could feel him watching you, making you smile more when you had your back to him. The slight squeak of him moving back his chair had been the only indication that he was on the move. 

"What can I do to help?" He would say, snuggling in tightly to your body, making it near impossible to move anywhere. 

You'd take a minute to think of what you could have him do, but you also didn't want to take him out of his comfort zone. 

"Can you just keep doing what you're doing?"

"Just...holding you?"

"Mhm!" You giggled, reaching for the sack of flour and measuring cups, struggling to reach due to Quinn's grasp. "I'm not asking for too much, am I?"

"Not at all. I just feel guilty watching you do everything." His voice was low, and sprinkled with the sound of depression and anguish. You knew that's how he had felt watching the games he couldn't participate in: hopeless and useless. 

"Well, I can't hold myself," you laughed, overlapping your hands on his at your waist. "You're doing a great job."

Quinn would playfully scoff at you giving him a verbal gold star, but deep down, he was so thankful that you didn't ridicule him when he got in these moods. He knew he could be so hard to deal with and the fact that you took every one of them at stride meant so much. Tonight was no different. 

The minutes would tick by quickly as you measured numerous ingredients into varying bowls before finally combining them into one, homogeneous mixture resembling chocolate chip cookie dough. From time-to-time, Quinn would dip a single finger into the dough, and each time you would softly tap him on the hand.

"Baby!"

"Quality control test," Quinn teased.

"You've said that three times now! Don't make yourself sick!"

He would let his arms fall from around your body, when you hinted that you needed to move away from where you had been standing. He seemed to be in a slightly lighter mood, having peppered you with delicate kisses the whole time you worked. How you loved having him home with you, just doing silly little domestic things like a normal couple did. However, having a partner like Quinn, and his profession, you never took the little things for granted. 

"Okay, fifteen to seventeen minutes," you said, putting the filled pans into the already hot and ready oven. You'd set the timer and walk back to him as he leaned against the counter. Quinn smiled at you, taking your hands in his at his sides. 

"Now we wait?" He asked, blinking slow, like he was fighting sleep despite being awake at this time rather often. 

"Mhm, come on, baby. You look exhausted," you confessed, trying to drag him back towards the direction of the living room. 

"I'm okay. I'm afraid if I sit down I'm going to fall asleep."

You acknowledged the truth in his words before another brilliant idea came to your mind. "Oh! I know! Wait right here, 'kay?"

Regrettably, you'd let go of his hands so you could cross the room and dim the kitchen lights to a low, golden glow. 

"Alexa, play Moonlight Serenade," you'd ask, returning to Quinn's arms. 

"Playing Moonlight Serenade, by Glenn Miller on Amazon Music."

Quickly, the apartment was filled with the crackling of a vintage record recording and the 1940s orchestra that was responsible. It was an easy enough waltz to sway to in the comfort of each other's company, there in the kitchen while the cookies bubbled and baked in the oven. Quinn would smile over your shoulder the whole time, having finally been able to shake off the feelings of failure. 

"Everybody loves somebody sometime~," Dean Martin would croon through the apartment's speakers. "And although my dream was overdue, your love made it well worth waiting for someone like you~

You couldn't help but giggle. It was like the song was saying what you were feeling and Quinn held the same sentiment. Silently, you two would continue to dance together to the love songs of old until the beeping of the timer pulled you apart. You'd both turn to see that the clock also read 12:00. 

"Happy New Year's, baby," Quinn would say first, tipping your chip up towards his awaiting lips. 

"Happy New Year's!" You replied, your lips just hovering next to his. The kiss was long, and sweet and everything you wanted to welcome in the new year with. Neither of you would let the other go for several minutes after, sharing multiple more affections until Quinn reminded you of the cookies.

"I'd really hate for your hard work to go to waste. We can always finish this later," he chuckled, pulling you in for one more heartfelt kiss. 

"Well, we'll have another fifteen to seventeen minutes," you winked, taking the pans out of the oven. "Does that work for you?"

"Oh, absolutely."

[tigersharkapologist]

thank you for popping off I absolutely love having these discussions

You make a seriously great point on how the Septimius twins see Macrinus as the closest thing to an actual father figure they’ve ever had—tbh I didn’t even account for that at first but it makes so much sense. They see an older male individual giving them genuine advice and direction and immediately latch on and pour all of their trust into them. Which would be understandable if you yourself never felt that kind of fatherly love before.

This also implies that they have literally not even felt a smidge of fatherly love before because what Macrinus gave them was not even CLOSE to the bare minimum that a father should. They can’t even recognize it’s the bare minimum because they’ve never had anything real. They were that desperate to be given less than a fraction of what they were owed in childhood and that rat milked it all the way up the social hierarchy ladder. Im genuinely shocked how much watching Macrinus lie to them in their faces and them feeling completely safe around him honestly made my heart twist way more than I thought it would. If you’ve ever seen that image of a leopard holding a baby gazelle hostage and the baby doesnt know it’s in danger because it assumes the leopard is safe—it’s literally that same situation. Geta and Caracalla have no idea, not even a hint of distrust in this man because its the most amount of real attention they’ve been given—like ever. And you’d think one would actually be distrustful in said “care” initially, but it’s just that they’re so desperate they’re taking scraps with greedy hands.

As for Geta’s death, Caracalla does claim that it was his father’s guiding hand that caused this—but how could Caracalla know that? He was anything but Lucid during his episode, including the adjourning of the senate. I doubt Caracalla even felt anything physically during the attack—he was that lost to the throes of nuerosyphilis and what honestly looked like a ptsd attack. What if —to save his neck from Caracalla’s current line of fire— Macrinus, ever the despicable rat bastard, lied to Caracalla that his father’s spirit was the one who guided his hand, not Macrinus. What if Macrinus was the one who told Caracalla that this same spirit told Macrinus that Dondas should be first consul (as electing himself would be too obvious) and that he should be second consul. And Caracalla would believe him easy. Why? Macrinus was “comforting” him when he was alone, under the table. Macrinus obviously cares for Dondas, he said Geta was a threat to her! Macrinus must be telling the truth! After all, it’s the least he could do to reward and thank his friend for being so understanding and patient with him. Macrinus would never pass up an opportunity to manipulate Caracalla in such a vulnerable state if it meant more political power. Whatever the interpretation, Macrinus was always playing the long game. The murders of Geta and Caracalla were premeditated for months ever since Lucius was really starting to gain traction. This man had a plan and followed through till the very end. Macrinus is far too vile, calculating and cruel hearted to have added “murder the emperors and assume power” only recently.

Pivoting, shoutout to the director for actually making a villain I dislike fully in every sense of the word. I never rooted for Macrinus once. He was so wicked towards these poor boys that I just can’t help but literally feel contempt when he’s on screen. That’s some powerful character writing right there. He had zero hesitation and was SO ready to emotionally play with the fragile hearts of two seriously young men who were never given any meaningful love and attention. He was so ready to manipulate them. He didn’t even kill them mercifully he killed them in the most horrific ways possible! Good thing a point is a point and that scumbag got what was coming. Geta and Caracalla deserved so much better than the cards they were dealt.

Look at this face.

Look at how genuinely distressed Geta looks.

Not only does he have to deal with the very present reality that Caracalla—his only real family and friend—is suffering from an incurable disease, but he’s woken with a start to discover that his most trusted and prized general was plotting a coup against him. I don’t think Acacius has the heart to actually kill the young emperors—to dethrone them and put them in prison seems more his speed. But Geta doesn’t know that. For all he knows Acacius just conspired murder against his brother, as coups usually result in the murder of the head.

Geta is stressed out of his mind. He can’t trust his military, he can’t trust his senate, he can’t even feel safe in his high tower without armed Gladiators nearly killing him. He can’t even really trust the Praetorian either since their loyalty is literally based off of if they think you’re a good emperor or not, and from what we know that remains up in the air. So threats are coming at him from all sides and he feels as though he’s the only one who can truly protect his brother. There’s nothing he can really do against the conspirers, there’s nothing he can do about Caracalla’s mental descent, there’s no one he can ask for help, no one who can fix this for him. He’s on his own completely. And just when he thinks he’s received a warm helping hand, that same hand grabs his brother’s wrist and “guides” Caracalla’s knife into his jugular. Imagine how heartbroken he was in those final moments. Your new friend who you thought you could actually trust, turns the most important person in your life against you in order to brutally murder you. Wow.

Even with all the power, with all the might of Rome, Geta was powerless. Powerless against his father, powerless against his brother’s aggressive disease, powerless against the people of Rome, powerless against his own gluttony and poor choices. This man has probably never felt less safe, if he’s ever truly felt safe and at peace at all since he’s been crowned.

What a tragic character

[cconfusedkat]

The one who wilts being a terrible person is,, probably the least expected thing of them considering how they treated both goat & ram when they were both their vessel

Kiss me son of god was very fitting for Wilt because of their desire for power, which eventually lead them to their downfall and being in Purgatory for three millenia. I guess they were a bit too ruthless

Also additional doodle to accompany this pmv because i am. Very much Not a serious person with lore things,

An actual summary: Shamura—The One Who Wilts—has heavy reasoning as to why they ended up in Purgatory the way they did.

Rather instead of just making their siblings being jealous of their rapid growth rate of the War Cult increasing, it was a mixed bag between jealousy and insanity due to losing their mind (metaphorically and literally) from holding just the Purple Crown of War.

Going so far, they didn't only kill other unfamiliar Gods to increase both fearmongering and faith, they killed their siblings for getting in their way.

Thanatos—the white dog with the other purple crown, being a God of Wisdom—Narinder, etc—was extremely critical of these ongoing events that lead into disaster. He tried to convince Wilt one more time that they weren't THIS violent. Where was that wise and sweet sibling? The one that would stay on Thanato's fur for dear life as a tiny spider, frolicking in the daffodil fields? The one who raised all four of their siblings? Giving them a place and shelter to stay at their very own palace, to eventually being able to create their own cults within palaces?

Well. They were gone. Long gone. Thanato's had been long desensitized on how cults actually worked. Wilt was the one who cared for being in higher power, they didn't reckon their siblings as people anymore.It wasn't until Thanato's panicky plan that made Wilt realize how messed up everything was. Thanatos laid down diagonally on the opening curtain of his bed, knowing fully Wilt would try to kill him in his sleep. A wisdom God still had his ways, despite preferring a pacifist life.Areem who had been on top of Thanato's bed looked over at Hadaf, him nodding as a signal to finally end this war of cults and sentence them to The Above. Wilt saw the hallucination of their dead siblings in Below (essentially an underworld heaven of sort) and actually felt some sort of relief to see them, convinced they were waiting for Wilt all this time in Below and forgave them for all their warcrimes.

Unfortunately for Wilt, it had been quite the opposite. They died slowly to the ichor loss from their already open head from their war crown, their eyes being blinded from ichor spilling in and out of it, and experiencing every painful moment of it.

Off screen, Areem would dig the sword deeper within their body, which then explains why they have a chain right in their head as The One Who Wilts. The sword went that deep to create an empty spot through their organs, the chain being the single thing to keep them alive and tortured within Purgatory for the next three millenia.

That's all to be explained for the video basically- after three millenia the wise and war (wise one referring to goat/giuseppe, where as alluring lamb would refer to lamb/allure in their own world. Twist on words! Yippee!) cult would begin, with a little ram and a goat. Cult of the goat baaaabeeeyyy 🎉🎉

But yes yep that's really it \o/ i still gotta touch up on giuseppe and aaliyah lore and how the war & wisdom cult operates compared to the death cult in allure's timeline,, fun fact there is no death god in rw&rw!! War was the replacement for death for a very long while

Ou wait name guide probably is a good idea

Thanatos is Narinder, he is a dog and is a god of wisdom

Wilt is Shamura (or shamara), they are a pink toed spider and a god of war. Thanatos took the wisdom crown

Hadaf and Bael are Aym and Baal (the white fluffy cats near the end)

Aidos is the blue cyclop squid (kallamar), Phobos is the neon green fuzzy worm (leshy), Limos is the lime green frog with eyelashes (heket), and Areem is a cotl follower oc (he's the snow leopard also at the end)

That's pretty much everyone :o) in the small doodle is giuseppe and aaliyah when they were a year staying in purgatory with wilt to train for which crown suited one or the other the best-

[alexawesimping]

“Bi-Han comes home”

MDNI😠kinda short smut/Imagine

Bi-Han x fem reader

Side note: I was looking through my phone notes and found this and I thought to myself “When in the hell did I write this?” 😂 so I decided to share with you guys. Enjoy.

Slightly proofread (I ain’t no professional smut writer guys)🥲

Bi-Han had come home from intense training late at night, only to see you so innocently waiting for him. You were preoccupied with doing your own hobbies. You had on a little short nightgown that nicely fitted your body.

Bi-Han felt a hunger deep in his stomach for you. Blood rushing to his cock. “Bi-Han, you’re home!” You say as you run up to him, wrapping your hands around his waist. You hugged him and his hands found their way around your waist and then to your ass.

In a result, making you gasp and blush. You turn to see where his hands were placed. Only to then feel bi-Han’s lips kiss your neck. “Bi-Han?” Your legs wanted to give out at the sudden actions.

Bi-Han then took your lips roughly in a heated kiss, his tongue wasting no time forcing its way into your mouth. “Mm~” You moaned into the kiss. One of Bi-Han’s hands found its way to the front of your nightgown pulling the front down enough to fully expose your breasts. He messaged them in his rough hands.

In one swift motion, your back was lying on the bed, underwear taken off. You were completely vulnerable and aroused. You had no idea what had gotten into Bi-Han for him to be acting like this. Bi-Han had just finished taking his clothes off, holding his cock in his hand and positioning it at your entrance.

“Look how wet you are..” Bi-Han said in almost a growl, running the tip along your wet folds. Pulling away he could see a clear string of arousal connecting you and him. “Fuck..” he said in a grunt before sliding himself in your pussy. “Ahh~!” You moan, getting no time to adjust.

Bi-Han then pushed your legs up, your thighs touching your chest, and began moving at a speed. “Ah, ah, fuck~” you moaned, grabbing handfuls of the bedsheets.

To see such a cute thing like you getting destroyed. Face all red, eyes dazed, tears streaming down your cheeks, your little whimpers and pleas. It was so intoxicating to Bi-Han, he grabbed your thighs pulling you in closer as his thick cock stuffed you fully.

“Ngh, bi-han p-please!” You moaned uncontrollably, as your body kept twitching. Your breasts were bouncing at the movement. Your fingernails digging into his forearms. “Mm~ my sweet girl~” Bi-Han grunted as his hips continued their pace.

He wanted to send you over the edge and completely consume you. He then reached his hand down playing with your puffy and overstimulated clit. In a result, making your body jolt. “N-no don’t-“ you beg. With the combination of Bi-Han’s cock filling you up and his fingers playing with your clit you were bound to lose it.

“Shut up and take it, you’re going to give it to me whether you like it or not.” Bi-Han said, looking down at you like his prey holding back his own moans. You felt it building up in your core, you shook your head. “P-please, I-“. You were cut off as you squirted on him, your arousal dripping down your ass and Bi-Han’s hands and pelvis. “Fuck..look at that, so fucking messy for me” Bi-Han growled.

He continued to go fast only to slip his dick out and watch you squirt, like it was a game to him. “Bi-Han! Please I-I’m making a m-mess-“ you became embarrassed, completely drenching the sheets of the bed beneath you. “Too bad” Bi-Han said continuing his little game.

You could barely form a thought. Your body was completely weak and overstimulated. You were completely his, you knew it felt so good to be stuffed this full.

END.

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map Post-Script

After two months of so, my little writing experiment At Sea Without a Map has come to an end. And because I'm vain, I not only felt compelled to share it, but to talk about it in depth after the fact, so here we are. This is going to be long, though, so I'm not only going to break it into sections, but put it all under the cut for the sake of your dashboard. So go ahead and dive into the depths of the Sea of Monsters with me one more time!

Part 1: Never Stop Blowing Up

The writing process of Wizard School Mysteries Book 3 was really strained - not because of the book itself, mind you. When I was actually able to work on it, Book 3 came together really well - I think it required the least substantial rewrites of any my novels thus far. It's just that real life was kind of beating the shit out of me while I was trying to get it done - or maybe the better metaphor was that it was just slowly but steadily draining me of energy all the time. I'm honestly surprised I got the book out in roughly the same amount of time as the first two - by the way life had been treating me, it should have taken longer.

But when I got done with it I was accutely aware of how tired I was. I still had the creative drive, but fuck I needed something simple as a palette cleanser - something easy, and more importantly, something that was allowed to be bad. I needed something creative to do that was surplus to requirements and fully within its rights to suck ass so long as I had fun making it.

Around this time, I decided to rewatch Dimension 20's Never Stop Blowing Up. Brief explanation of what that is: Dimension 20 is an actual play show, i.e. a recording of people playing D&D and other TTRPGs. I'd say its reputation is built on the contrast of its main DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who makes these meticulously crafted campaign plans, and his chaotic band of improv comedian players who promptly derail those plans spectacularly. Like, a good deal of the show's humor comes from Emily Ashford or Ally Beardsly doing something so off-the-wall that it shatters whatever the scene was going to be and creates a far more absurd and zany spectacle in its place. Which is why Never Stop Blowing Up is pretty notable, because it's the one campaign where Brennan himself is the agent of chaos, fully unleashing his own brand of madness that the players struggle to keep up with. And fuck does he seem to have fun with it.

Of course, all of the analysis above is purely from the outside looking in - it's likely that a lot of the "chaos" is played up for the audience. But still... there is something to the idea of a person who's been working on meticulously structured stories letting loose and just doing something extremely stupid.

So I decided to give myself a Never Stop Blowing Up moment - a short story that would be simple by design, with no standards to live up to or goal beyond "have fun telling a silly little story." I then came up with a few key criteria:

It can't be set in the Midgaheim/ATOM universe. I don't want the burden of figuring out where this story would fit among others.

It's gotta be a romance. People who've read my books might have picked up on the fact that I like to write about people falling in love, for the same reason I like to write about fire-breathing reptiles and friendly monsters (i.e. I use writing to indulge in things I'll never experience in real life). I've only used romance as subplots in my fiction before, and tend to feel a bit guilty if I focus on it too long - like I'm being self indulgent. Well, this is all about self indulgence, so the romance should be front and center.

It's gotta be SIMPLE, episodic even. Not complex plotting required.

I almost chose my xenomorph romance for this, but I had developed its outline to the point where it would be too complex to fit. I then considered a sort of superhero story that could be pitched as "what if Bringing Up Baby but Katherine Hepburn's character is a Harley Quinn-esque supervillain and Cary Grant's character gets turned into some sort of horrifying genetic mutant in the first ten minutes." That one hit a weird roadblock when I got to the character brainstorming phase (the first phase of any writing project I do) - I was trying to figure out what the mad scientist who turns out Cary Grant-figure into a mutant would be named, came up with the name "Dr. Skullfuck," immediately realized that having a character named "Dr. Skullfuck" is a Mark Millar-ass writing move that I could not allow myself to do, but then couldn't stop thinking of the name "Dr. Skullfuck" and giggling, which just brought all thinking to a grinding halt on that project.

(I'll still probably do it someday, though - just, you know, without Dr. Skullfuck)

Inspiration struck again, though. I'd been getting into Epic: The Musical, a musical retelling of The Odyssey, and it put me in the mood for a sea monster story. But, more than that, it got me thinking about one particular archetype from sea monster stories - but that brings us to the next part of this Post Script...

Part 2: It Was Always About Calibani

Ok, so, one of the big changes Epic: The Musical made involved Odysseus's encounter with the sirens, and before you read more of my rambling, I'd like you to watch two animatics for the two songs in question here:

A summary: one of the sirens takes the form of Odysseus's wife to try and tempt him into getting in the water, Odysseus tricks her into giving him directions, captures her and the rest of her kind, and proceeds to have his men slaughter them horribly. In the OG story the sirens don't die - nor does their song involve imitating a man's wife, for that matter, it's just a really pretty song.

This is done for an important narrative purpose - Epic: The Musical is focused on analyzing the moral ambiguity of Odysseus, and how it is constantly challenged by the impossible choices he is forced to make in his attempt to get home. At this point in the musical, Odysseus has decided to stop trying to be a compassionate man, shirking all mercy in favor of utter ruthless pursuit of his goals. These two songs are meant to be unsettling as hell - this is the beginning of a series of heartless choices by both Odysseus and his men that will culminate in the mutiny and complete annihilation of Odysseus's crew, as well as Odysseus himself being so hopelessly stranded that nothing short of divine intervention will save him.

I bring this up because when I first heard these two songs - specifically while watching these two animatics - it, like... it devastated me. I was so horrified and sad, so shaken by it. And part of it was for the reasons outlined above, but admittedly that wasn't the gut reaction I had. No, my immediate reaction was, and I quoute my own broken brain verbatim here: "You can't kill the sirens! They're not for killing, they're for loving!"

...now, those of you who know me are probably not surprised by this very stupid sentiment coming from me. One of my more popular posts is just me talking about how down bad I would be for various folkloric monsters whose whole shtick is "looks like a pretty lady but Watch Out." But as a person filled with immense self loathing and doubt, my brain immediately looked at that very stupid sentiment I expressed and said, "Wait, no, that's fucking dumb, I'm fucking dumb. The sirens are remorseless murderers. These sirens in particular preyed upon a man's love for his wife, who he has not seen in twelve years, to convince him to let them kill him. They are, by all standards of morality, Very Fucking Evil, and if they were not women you would not feel bad about them getting killed."

And as my brain argued with itself over this topic, I got to thinking about the various monstrous/othered sea women of The Odyssey - not just the sirens, but the witch Circe, the nymph Calypso, the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. And I thought about the others of their kind in other myths and folktales - selkies, mermaids, etc.

There's an archetype of sea monster that focuses entirely on one specific anxiety sailors are prone to, namely the fact that (for a good deal of human history) being on a boat meant spending a lot of time away from women. The horror of this monster is how it uses that desire for female company to tempt people into danger - like a mirage, it leads you to expose yourself to danger in pursuit of an illusory comfort.

But, unlike real world mirages, these monstrous sea women DO exist in their stories. More than that, they're often, like, sad and lonely. Their narrative purpose is just to be a temptation, but that doesn't change the fact that they do have lives of their own in these worlds. And, softie that I am, I can't help feeling sad for them, especially the ones who actually seem to want the same companionship the sailors they tempt want. Sailors don't stay with their Circes, they don't marry their Calypsos. The sirens live on a barren rock, alone, Scylla is left to wallow in misery at her monstrous form, and the selkie always has to leave for fear of being trapped by a person who won't love her on her terms.

I realized I had my hook for this simple, easy, silly little sea monster romance story: I was going to give a sea woman the happy ending she'd never get from anyone else.

Sailor may be the protagonist, but make no mistake: At Sea Without a Map was always, always, ALWAYS about Calibani.

The goal with Calibani was simple: I was going to set up a fairly standard Monstrous Sea Woman, but where other stories would let her be in one episode of the travel narrative and move on, this one would stick around. She'd be an unambiguous predator of human beings - an open and admitted maneater - but she would have no true malice to her. She, like all predators, eats what she can get to survive, and it just so happens that she's adapted to eat humans. And the story would pose the same question to the reader that my brain posed to me during Different Beast: is there any way you could make a siren-style sea monster sympathetic? Can you make a normal person who doesn't have my particular brain rot look at a maneating siren and think, "You're not supposed to kill her, you're supposed to love her!"

One of the few unavoidable plot points of At Sea Without a Map was that Calibani and Sailor's relationship would become romantic. What kind of romance it was could have varied substantially - it could have been one-sided, it could have been toxic, it could have been far more tragic OR far more comedic. But it was always, always going to be a romance of some sort - the goal of this experiment was to make you, the reader, love Calibani. All else was icing on the cake.

I decided to base Calibani's personality on Miranda from The Tempest - i.e. a sweet girl who is both wordly and naive, who understands the strange setting of our "lost at sea" story far better than the audience viewpoint character does, but views the mundane world of the audience viewpoint character with wonder and naiveté. In fact I almost named her Miranda outright... except I already had a character in the setting I chose for this story who had that name, and as an allusion to the same Shakespearean character no less. So I settled on naming her after Miranda's adoptive sibling (of sorts), Caliban - more fitting in some ways, as Caliban is a fish-human hybrid who is arguable more native to the magic island in The Tempest than Miranda herself.

(Calibani isn't the only Tempest name homage, either - her mother, Sycorax, takes her name directly from Caliban's unseen but oft-spoken of witch mother. Dr. Antonia Warefore takes her first name from Antonio, one of the human villains in The Tempest who hopes to use being lost at sea as a way to perform a coup. And the mothman Iriel takes her name from Ariel, the wind spirit in The Tempest who aids the wizard Prospero in controlling the magic island. If Sailor has a "real" name, it's probably either Ferdinand or Miranda, the two lovers who manage to blend civilization and the wilderness together with their romance.)

Visually, I wanted Calibani to not be any common archetype of sea monster woman, but rather something that evokes the popular images while still being her own thing. She's not a mermaid or a siren or a selkie - she's basically "what if a sea serpent was also a girl." In-universe, she's chubby because she, like all marine megafauna, needs blubber to survive. Out-of-universe, she's chubby because I've found that routinely drawing cute chubby girls is good for my mental health.

Part 3: CYOA

Now, while we live in a post-Muncher society where shame and cringe are emotions only the cowardly should experience, I am nonetheless Very Catholic about expressing my own feelings of, like, liking girls and shit. I cannot help feeling guilty when publicly expressing adoration of women without, like, an excuse - it's gotta be a joke or something, you know? I can't be genuine about it, or else Jesus will beat me with a cane for disrespecting women with my lecherous gaze.

But luckily I've cultivated a loyal audience of fellow monsterfuckers, which meant I had an excuse lined up: if I made this a choose your own adventure type deal, a story with audience participation, then you all would be my accomplices. And Jesus can't cane all of us! He doesn't have enough hands! I found a loophole bigger than his stigmata!

Plus I love collaborative story-telling - there's a thrill in not having total control of where the narrative is going. As Brennan Lee Mulligan must know, there's a joy in having to deal with the chaos thrown your way by letting others grab the figurative ball, even if just for a moment.

Part 4: Offbeat Melody

Since I did not want to set this story in Midgaheim, I decided to steer myself away from a vaguely medieval setting altogether. But I also didn't want to limit myself with the need for "realism" that putting it in a normal sea would require, and making a new setting whole cloth would start pushing this project into "not easy" territory.

Luckily, I had a setting lying around that I hadn't played with in a while, which just so happened to have a location that was PERFECT for the sort of Never Stop Blowing Up style madness I was aiming for. For a few years I ran a Monster of the Week TTRPG campaign called Offbeat Melody, and one of its core setting elements was taking the goblin universe hypothesis in paranormal science (yeah it's a real hypothesis) to an illogical extreme. We had specifically seen glimpses of the Sea of Monsters in Offbeat Melody, i.e. the parallel universe where monsters like Nessie, Ogopogo, Champ, and the like all hail from. Well, why not have a whole story set there? It's literally a universe devoted solely to creating sea monsters - what better place to strand our modern Odysseus?

Offbeat Melody was always sort of a Never Stop Blowing Up project, or at least NSBU adjacent. Some of my most unhinged story-telling moments are in that campaign - you could make a supercut of just the "commercial breaks" in the various sessions and it'd basically be an I Think You Should Leave episode. Taking one obscure corner of its multiversal world and exploring it in detail was perfect for this project.

Part 5: Monster by Monster

With our main romance as sorted out as could be for a CYOA story, it was time to figure out the "episodes" of this sea voyage. I settled on there being ten to roughly align with The Odyssey - just in terms of number, mind you, not in a one-to-one comparison. The first was, obviously, Calibani herself, which left nine more slots for me to fill with monsters. Let's go through them together in brief:

Tree Storks - any lost at sea story eventually has to get its protagonist into an island at some point, but this immediately begs the question, "Why don't they just stay on the island where it's safe?" The answer to that question has to be, "it's not safe there, actually." The Odyssey does this quickly and cleverly with a one two punch: the first island seems safe until you realize the food on it brainwashes you into forgetting everything except your desire to eat it, and the second island is full of delicious sheep but also giants who will eat you just as easily as they eat the sheep. When other islands show up in the story later, you immediately regard them with suspicion, because you don't know HOW they're going to be fucked up, but they definitely will be. My goal with the second episode was to establish the same sort of danger - that land is NOT safe, that islands WILL be fucked up and dangerous in ways you might not expect.

I also wanted to establish that this is not just a sea of monsters, but a very WEIRD sea of WEIRD monsters. It couldn't be any old monster on this island - it had to be one that was unique, unexpected, and maybe just a bit silly while still being menacing.

I've always felt that there's a lot of un-mined horror potential in storks, cranes, and herons - any bird with a long neck and spear-like beak it uses to stab smaller creatures from above. Just imagine yourself in a frog's place in the world - tiny, going about your business, when suddenly something shoots down at you from above and impales you before you even feel the shadow fall over your face. Or perhaps you did see the shadow - some of these birds spread their wings to create shade specifically to attract fish, and then spear the poor little bastards.

Well, what do people often look to islands for when out at sea? Shade - the shade of a palm tree. And palm fronds kinda resemble feathers, don't they? Wouldn't it be both ludicrous and terrifying is there was a stork big enough to mimic a palm tree - and wouldn't that be a DEVIOUS trap for a sun-drenched sailor to fall for? So the Tree Storks were born.

The Globster - I made a list of sea monster archetypes in the early planning for this project, and one I wanted to include was a kraken, i.e. some sort of tentacled sea beast. But I didn't want to do JUST a big squid or octopus, or even a riff on them. I wanted to take the idea of "big sea monster with lots of tentacles" into a stranger direction.

Since the Sea of Monsters is explicitly the home universe of lake and sea monster cryptids, I thought it might be fun if ASWaM's kraken equivalent was a globster - just a big ball of rotten meat. I love drawing monstrous faces, so I decided it'd just be, like, MADE of hideous rotten faces, all melting and congealing together, with its tentacles doubling as the tongues of its many mouths. A perfectly wretched image that, like the Tree Storks, would do well to establish how Fucked things could get in this setting. Plus similar monsters had appeared in Offbeat Melody, which would make for a fun sense of familiarity for the, like, five or so readers of mine who had listened to that campaign before.

Captain Peter & the Dolphin - Another thing I did in the early planning stages of this project was make a list of the different sea voyage stories I know and love, the most contentious of which is The Life of Pi. That's a story that I love on a literal level but kind of hate on a figurative level - its whole theme/message is that doubt is the worst thing you can have, that if you don't commit to believing something with zealous conviction you are a coward. As a person who thinks doubt is valid, that "I don't know" is sometimes the ONLY truly valid answer to a question, I have issues with that message.

But I can't help loving the beautifully ludicrous idea of a non-anthropomorphic tiger sailing the ocean on a big Odyssey of its own. Like, if that story didn't actively hate me for being agnostic, it would be one of my favorites.

So I decided to, you know, just steal the idea of a tiger Odysseus. The tiger in The Life of Pi is named Richard Parker. Richard Parker also happens to be the name of Peter Parker's dad. Hence we get Captain Peter - the figurative son of Richard Parker, if you will. And to ratchet up the absurdity of a tiger Odysseus, I made him a pirate and the sole sailor of his voyage. Somehow, this tiger has manned a boat on his own.

Captain Peter was intended to be the hero of another story - a sign for the readers that it IS possible for a stranded person (or, in this case, tiger) to survive out here. To that end, he had to rescue our heroes from another threat, but not one that would be interesting enough to take the focus off of the tiger pirate. Originally I planned for that threat to just be a big shark, but I ended up liking my shark design too much to put it in a role that small, so I quickly designed a nasty dolphin for the role instead. I think that worked out well, honestly.

Dr. Neptune - Episodes 5 and 6 were the mid-point of this journey, so I wanted the two monsters of those to escalate things significantly. I figured episode 5 was probably a good place to FINALLY give some meaningful exposition on what was going on, and there are a lot of stories about mad scientists doing weird shit on islands in my big list of sea voyage stories I love. So we get Dr. Neptune, a classical brain-in-a-jar mad scientist who's affable enough to give more-or-less accurate exposition but loony enough to be a problem. This also felt like a good spot to remind the reader that Calibani is not just a girl with a tail but rather a Sea Monster herself, and one that we'd been making stronger by allying with.

With his human-but-not-quite nature and cyclops eye, Dr. Neptune could sort of be seen as the Polyphemus of this story, couldn't he?

The Crocodisle - One of the sea monster archetypes on my list was "the island that's actually a sleeping monster," of which there are many in mythology and folklore. My favorite is the Jasconius from the voyage of St. Brendan, mainly because it's more or less benign and actually comes back to help St. Brendan and his crew at the end of the story. I always love when I can find an old story with a friendly monster in it.

When thinking of my own spin on the island monster concept, I remembered the only Magic the Gathering card I had as a kid, which I still have and love to this day: The Sandbar Crocodile. This card already inspired Crocogon's color scheme in The Atomic time of Monsters, but I felt I could go to that well again one more time, and so made a crocodile that wasn't just a sandbar, but a whole damn island to itself. And, like Jasconius, it turns out he's pretty chill.

I did not think of the pun name "Crocodisle" until I was actually writing the chapter in question.

The Femdom Mermaids - These three were a late addition to the roster. When I had Calibani bring up mermaids early in the story, I realized as soon as I wrote her rant about them that we'd HAVE to meet some later on in the story.

The readers had significantly shaped Calibani and Sailor's romance by this point, and I decided that it could be useful to have a chapter that was devoted to showing definitively how these two were good for each other. I thought the mermaids could provide a good contrast: have them act out a seemingly more benign take on the monstrous sea women trope (they abduct our hero to protect and care for them!) only for it to quickly feel MORE deranged than Calibani's comparatively simple desire just to eat him.

The spirit of Calibani's rant about mermaids was taken from weird* girls I knew in high school complaining about cheerleaders, so I wanted the mermaids to look like the sea monster equivalent of popular kids to Calibani's chubby weird girl. Two of them got the names of famous beauties - Helyne = Helen of Troy, Clio = Cleopatra.

(*when I say "weird" I mean it in a complimentary and affectionate sense)

Bob, meanwhile, kinda... rebelled, I guess? Before I had names for them, I listed "bob" by her as just, like, a descriptor for her hair cut, but then I liked it as her name, and once she was named Bob she became more than just a mean popular girl. She was a weirdo too, the little punching bag of the two mean popular girls who did their dirty work and smiled through their abuse because hey, at least they included her. It gave the trio an easily defined dynamic, helped make two of the three more visibly nasty, and gave us comic relief in an arc that could very well have gotten too uncomfortable otherwise.

And I guess it worked - readers REALLY loved Bob, and were very vocal about it, and I realized mid-arc that I had accidentally made her too likable to just leave in this arc. So Bob got to be rescued from her awful friend group thanks to readers like YOU.

Lord Ironteeth - yeah, this was the shark that was too cool to be a minor threat. When I drew his noggin, I realized he would need a chapter of his own, one with gravitas. I decided he'd specifically be the threshold guardian -once we beat him, we'd know for sure how to get home, even if there were a few more threats in store.

Spindle Inc and Sycorax - when I was a kid I used to have this recurring nightmare about being on some sort of underwater sea station that had this huge sea serpent trapped inside it. I'd look at the sea serpent from a window within the station and see it coiling in its tank, only for it to look at me with fury. In that glance I would suddenly realize two things with absolute clarity: first, it was going to break free and kill everyone, and second, we deserved that destruction for what we had done to it. The terror of the dream was less that the sea serpent was going to break free, and more the guilt of knowing that all the mayhem that was about to unfold was our fault to begin with.

I thought that would be fun to homage with the penultimate chapter of this story. OBVIOUSLY the sea serpent was Calibani's mom, obviously the trauma of its capture was why Calibani grew into a predator that specializes in hunting humans, obviously we would have to free the sea serpent despite that running counter to Sailor's goal of getting home. Easy, easy, easy plot point to include.

Spindle, Inc. is the primary antagonistic force in Offbeat Melody, so they easily slotted into the role of the arrogant humans who captured this monster for nefarious and selfish motives. They could tie a lot of other plot threads together too - Dr. Neptune was a scientist who worked for them as a contractor only to get screwed over (i.e. they stranded him in the Sea of Monsters, expecting him to die, and then used his research to make their own base of operations in it), we'd learn of him through a spindle briefcase left behind by some unfortunate rogue agent who got eaten by the Globster while he was trying to escape, hell they could even be one of the possible origins of Sailor themself (more on that later). Very useful villains, Spindle.

The Abyssal Mother - I knew the last sea monster would need a lot of punch to it. I briefly considered just a big whale - the Moby Dick to Spindle's corporate Ahab - but it felt underwhelming after all that came before. So I went for arguably the most dramatic possible sea monster, a full on Cthulhu-style elder god. If you're a frequent follower of this blog, you might know I have particularly high standards for Eldritch Abominations, so I realized this was going to be a pretty big challenge for me to live up to, and decided to keep the cthulhu in question reserved to the last few entries as a result - the less it appears, the less it has to live up to.

I realized I had a good angle when my experiments with the Cthulhu "squid for a head" concept ended up having a face framed in shadow - you know, the same visual that our protagonist has in most appearances. That provided some very juicy parallels between the two that made this final monster feel particularly noteworthy to me, ones that I'll leave you to ponder, since they tie into...

Part 6: Themes

I did not set out to have a theme in this story. I just wanted to make a sailor and a sea monster kiss. That was my only goal.

But I really don't begin with theme in ANY of my writing. I figure out topics I want to address, but for all my novels I feel like the themes didn't start coming together until about halfway through the first draft, when enough of the elements of the story had been set down and interacted with each other enough for me to realize what I was saying with them. A huge part of my second and third drafts for my novels have focused on making the themes of my stories more concrete and unified.

Well, ASWaM is very much a first draft of a story, but it's a simple enough story that I think the theme found itself pretty well despite lacking subsequent drafts to refine it.

ASWaM is about doubt and direction. It's about being adrift in a world that is in many ways hostile by nature, about not feeling like you're where you're supposed to be or even WHO you're supposed to be, and about setting off aimlessly in the hope that maybe you'll find your way to that mythical land of "what my life is supposed to be."

When I began the story, Sailor had amnesia and wore clothes that obscured their identity as a way to make it easier for anyone to step into Sailor's role. Sailor had to feel like You, the Reader, and so we don't know their name, their gender, their eye color, their hair color, even their skin color (note that their hands are always wearing gloves, and their face is always in shadow).

But it also meant Sailor is, well, undefined, at least at the start of the story. Sailor doesn't know who they are, what they are, how they came to be. Sailor feels distinctly that they should be Something Else, should be Somewhere Else, should be Someone Else, should not be who/what/where they are. Sailor is plagued by doubt, by a need to go in a different direction, by a need to be other than they are.

This initially contrasts with Calibani, who begins the story very confident that she is doing exactly what she was designed to be doing and acting exactly like she should be. As they interact, they begin to shift each other in opposite directions - Calibani questions her existence and nature, sometimes to a self destructive degree, and Sailor begins to find something about who and where they are that they like. They find a healthy middle ground together - doubtful enough to want to be better people, but with love for themselves that allows them to not feel the need to up-heave their lives entirely.

I knew at the start that I would build an expectation for there to be some answer to the question of who Sailor is and where they came from, because those are the questions that begin the whole narrative. I brainstormed a number of answers to those questions, but once I got a few chapters into writing the story and saw this theme of doubt developing, I realized I couldn't answer them. From a thematic standpoint, the doubt HAD to remain. So I gave hints to possible answers, bits of evidence to support the possibility of them being true, but never planted a smoking gun that answered it for sure.

Sailor can't know the answer because NONE of us know the answer. Outside of blind Life of Pi style faith, you cannot know for sure that you are living the life you're supposed to live. All you can do is figure out whether you're happy with the life you've got, or if you need a change. Sailor will never know who they are supposed to be, but they did learn who they are, and they love that person now.

For those curious, the possible Sailor origins are:

Occam's Razor: they're exactly what Dr. Neptune theorized, i.e. a human who got stranded in the Bermuda Triangle (or the Devil's Triangle or any other number of paranormal triangles) and fell into the Sea of Monsters. The trauma of that experience gave them amnesia. It's just brain damage and bad luck.

A Spindle Experiment: Dr. Warefore mentions that Spindle has been trying to find a way to make a human who can evolve like the denizens of the Sea of Monsters. Sailor may well be an attempt to do just that, perhaps one they wrote off as a failure and abandoned (they do that a lot)

A Deep One: Sailor is the offspring of one of the denizens of the Sea of Monsters (most likely the Abyssal Mother herself) who has somehow been tricked into believing they are human, to the point where they seem to be human to everyone else, even other monsters. Maybe a human summoned a sea monster to breed with on earth, and Sailor ended up being subconsciously drawn back to the Sea by their blood. Maybe Sailor never actually lived on earth at all, but was only made to THINK they had as part of the transformation into a human.

The Platonic Ideal of a Sailor: the Sea of Monsters is full of archetypal concepts, and arguably a sailor trying to find their way home is just as archetypal as any sea serpent, mermaid, or kraken. Our only proof that humans aren't native to the Sea of Monsters is Dr. Neptune, and he's not as reliable an expert as he claims to be.

This theme of doubt and direction also made the compass more important to the narrative than a simply mechanic for audience participation - a compass, after all, gives direction, and the feeling that Sailor is not where they're supposed to be, that they need to head in a different direction, is ultimately the catalyst of the plot. The compass is, in many ways, the antagonist of the story - the force that keeps Sailor from accepting themself. I realized this a little after I started making the different directions have personalities - initially they just represented broad concepts (North = follow conventional wisdom ala the North Star, South = preserve your short-term self interest at all costs, East = act with curiosity and be willing to take calculated risks, and West = throw caution to the wind and do anything that seems novel and exciting), but over time they became little characters themselves.

Since it was our thematic antagonist, I decided to pepper in some ideas about what the compass might be in-universe - and, in a move that would no doubt frustrate the compass, we also don't know for sure which of those is "correct." Is the compass a poltergeist, some amalgamation of dead sailors who try to steer other lost souls home? Is it a malign entity that leeches off of those desperate enough to seek its aid, living through them while pretending to aid them? Is it a device Spindle made to lure sailors to their clutches, OR to guide their experiments in human/monster hybrids? Was it a cursed item that forced a sea monster to assume a human shape? Who can say - the compass sure can't, it can only tell you a direction to go in.

Part 7: Q&A

Since this was an interactive story, I felt it was only fitting to add one last interactive element to this post-script write up, and some of your happily obliged me by sending in questions.

When I noticed how fast readers were falling for Calibani, I figured there was a good chance we'd end up staying in the Sea of Monsters. By chapter 7, I figured it was more or less a given, and by the end of the Lord Ironteeth encounter I was almost 100% sure Sailor would remain at sea. There was always a chance, though - while a look at the polls shows that the audience got more and more on the same page towards the end, there were always dissenting voices, and the desire to get an answer to the question of Who Sailor Was remained strong, as a number of people kept trying to find angles where they could get that AND stay with Calibani.

I was surprised early on by how easily the audience fell in love with Calibani, to the point where I made a few posts commenting on it. I mean, I shouldn't have been - as I said earlier, I have cultivated an audience of fellow monsterfuckers on here, and I know at least a few of them saw my bait and knew they could get me to be freaky in a way we found mutually agreeable (thank you all again for helping me escape being caned by Jesus for being horny).

Like, we REPEATEDLY ignored developing the plot in the Tree Storks chapter for several days just to spend more time with Calibani - something that I enjoyed immensely (this whole thing was an excuse for me to write and draw a cute chubby sea monster girl as much as possible aftter all) but also knew as a storyteller was not what most would consider a good story call. I like how it turned out, but it defied conventional narrative wisdom, you know? I was surprised.

On the other side of the coin, I was also surprised by how the audience NEVER chose an option that was humorously disastrous. I gave plenty of them, and, like, generally in collaborative storytelling there will be at least one moment where your collaborators decide to do the really, REALLY stupid thing that makes everything spiral out of control really quickly. I figured at least once the audience would choose the troll response, but no, you guys worked hard to keep Sailor and Calibani alive. You refused to let them hurt each other, refused to let them throw themselves into danger, refused to imperil them for your own chuckles. It was very sweet and unexpected.

I say "you refused" but to be fair it's not like NO ONE voted for the troll options - they generally got a handful of votes, just one that was beaten by a landslide of more reasonable options. Hopefully those of you who voted for the troll options enjoyed Bob throwing you a bone by disintegrating Dr. Warefore - that was my consolation prize to you.

Yes. I knew at the beginning that there would be two endings for this story: either Sailor leaves the Sea and goes home, or Sailor stays there forever. Or, you know, Sailor dies as a result of you guys choosing several stupid options in a row, but as stated above you guys avoided those scenarios pretty decisively.

Had Sailor gone home, the following would have occurred: first, they would forget everything that happened in the Sea of Monsters. Second, they would wake up in a hospital, having been found in the Atlantic Ocean by a human-recovery charity run by... oh, isn't that funny, some tech company named Spindle Inc! Spindle would foot the medical bills and even offer Sailor a job, but Sailor would decline because even now they're still not sure what Spindle even does. Sailor would go back to their life and find it familiar and utterly mundane, but not particularly happy. Their father died when they were 18, their mother was never in the picture, they have no siblings. They worked an office job and were sort of a nonentity - that position has long since been filled, but Sailor gets a new job and lives out much the same life: simple, mundane, dreary. Every now and then they get a pang of desire to leave, to go to sea, but they push it out of mind. They never even see the ocean again as long as they live.

Sailor would have gotten the normal life they thought they were supposed to have, the normal memories and name and identity, the mundane life of a normal person. And they just had to trade everything they found in the Sea of Monsters to get it. A question is answered, a direction is followed, but is it the right answer, the right direction?

Well, I think doubt would have remained.

I had a very vague idea for there to be some sort of man-eating giant in, like, a crystal castle. He got cut to make way for the mermaids.

I wanted to fit in a big whale and a giant crustacean, but there wasn't room or an interesting angle for me to want to make room for them. Saved for a possible sequel, I suppose.

I also wanted to have a scene with, like, DOZENS of sea monsters, including some of the ones from Offbeat Melody, but the goal of "this should be EASY you dumbass" made me kill that idea pretty quick.

Thank you!

The primary inspirations were:

The Odyssey and Epic: the Musical

The voyage of St. Brendan

The many "weird shit happens on an island" movies in Toho's filmography, i.e. Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster, Son of Godzilla, Yog Monster of the Deep, Matango, etc.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

The Boy and the Heron

Ponyo (specifically Ponyo's parents - I wanted Sailor to have the same desperate energy as that wizard who fucks the giant sea goddess)

The Life of Pi

Slay the Princess (perhaps most obvious in the use of second person narration, multiple voices in the protagonist's head, and falling in love with a creature that has tried to kill you at least once)

I'm going to use this to springboard to a related point in a second, but first a genuine yet humorous answer: Yes, absolutely yes, I am enough of a big romantic sap that I would give everything about my life away to be with a person who loves me and explore a world of monsters in a heartbeat. Hell, I would have jumped in the water the minute Calibani asked and died with her fangs in my neck and a smile on my face. I am dumb this way. Do not follow my example.

On that related point, though... Most stories like this, I daresay ALL stories like this that I know of, end with the hero abandoning the fantasy world in favor of reality, never to return. And that seems like the proper choice and lesson on the surface - we don't want to tell audiences to give up their real life in favor of a fantasy, after all. That's encouraging escapism, and that's not healthy!

But, like... textually speaking, the fantastical world IS real to the characters in these stories. And it's often not really an escape - was Sailor's life devoid of conflict and suffering in the Sea of Monsters? Fuck no! It's just that they figured out how to deal with that conflict and suffering - they built skills and a support system, they adapted, they learned how to overcome what was there.

I think it can be argued that sometimes the return to a "normal" world is, in itself, an escape - the idea that your life can spiral into chaos but that's ok, you can just reset everything and go back to The Way It Was and Should Be is just as unrealistic and unhealthy an idea as You Should Escape to A Better World. Sometimes your plans for your life fall apart, sometimes you're thrown into a place you never intended to go, sometimes you have to learn skills you never anticipated needing and ally with people you never thought you'd befriend to deal with problems you never dreamed you'd have to overcome. And sometimes it's ok to look at your derailed life, your Not Where You Should Be life, and say, "Well, I've learned how to live here... maybe I can stay."

Especially if there's a cute chubby sea monster girl who loves you.

Bob was never supposed to appear past chapter 7, but about halfway through that chapter I realized the audience and I myself would be heartbroken if we didn't rescue her. Definitely for the best - she provided some well-needed comic relief in the final chapters.

This is gonna sound snarky, but, yeah - there were 58 choices with four options a piece, and we only chose one of the four. While some of the options would have similar results, almost none would have had identical outcomes. And some would have been VERY different.

Like, to go back to the beginning: when Calibani attacked, we could either throw a net on her, harpoon her, try to drive around her, or hide below deck. We picked the net, but for the other three options:

Harpooning would result in us hitting her in the thigh, causing her enough pain that she collapses on our deck and we, horrified at the violence we committed, just sort of push on. Calibani would be wounded for at least the next chapter, perhaps longer, and significantly weaker (and probably harboring a great deal of hidden resentment while also being genuinely scared of Sailor). She would be vulnerable during the stork attack, forcing Sailor to take a more active role in that chapter.

Trying to steer around her would result in us essentially fighting her with our boat, resulting in the boat capsizing and Calibani getting tangled up in it. We'd wake up alone on Stork Island and have to travel in search of our boat, alone and vulnerable among man-eating trees. We'd run into Calibani again, also beached and in trouble, end up recruiting her to help us get our boat out of the sand.

Hiding below deck would end in a sea storm that leaves us inside our boat as it's beached on Stork Island. We'd fend off the storks alone, and run into Calibani once we get our boat out to sea, as she got away more or less unscathed.

All of these would have majorly changed the trajectory of our relationship with Calibani and our identity as Sailor, despite seeming to have the same component parts on the surface. Now account for how similarly slight changes in the other options could have gone, and we could have had a very different story indeed.

Part 8: Our Girl

I just think she's neat!

[vitaminseetarot]

Back-to-Back PAC Part 1: What is Ending For You? 🌹🔥🌃

Hey, y'all, I'm back for another pick a card reading in time for the end of 2024. I thought I'd make it a little more interesting by having two back-to-back readings, so stay tuned for tomorrow as part 2 rolls out!

Pick any one of the three images above for your reading:

Pile 1 - Sapphire Rose Pile 2 - Carnelian Flame Pile 3 - Amethyst Sky

Pile 1: Sapphire Rose

10 of Pentacles (Rx), Queen of Cups, III Empress, 10 of Swords; Treasure Island, Desert: Vision Quest; "just cuz they put a square on your head doesn't mean you're not still in school"; "Live a vibrant and colorful life despite the circumstances"

Hey there pile 1! I see that for you 2024 was not the start of chaos and challenge but a mere continuation. I feel a good deal of exhaustion with this pile. But I wanna tell you that since you picked pile 1 before 1/1, there's a message that you are still going on the right path even if you sometimes doubt your intentions. Like strong currents and waves of the ocean, our paths can become torrential and unpredictable, with many ups and downs. I feel you've faced through many obstacles in the course of your life so it's tempting to believe that not much will change in 2025. But I see that what's ending for you is the very expectation of said lack. With the 10 of Pentacles reversed, you're breaking down old narratives that no longer work to support you. This requires retooling your brain to think differently about a situation than before, to approach it from a alternate angle. It may require unlearning and relearning, much like pruning an old branch while watering the new.

I'm getting that with Queen of Cups, it's best to do this through loving reminders. I get that many of you in this pile may be resistant to or overly wary of toxic positivity, and that's understandable. A lot of advice online can scrape at the surface and be unable to fully peer into the depths of unique challenges we have had to endure. But we can be gentle with ourselves and take the time we need as we gradually welcome more optimistic affirmations into our minds and shift focus onto what we want instead of don't want. If it feels unrealistic to say to yourself, "2025 is going to be AMAZEBALLS!", then you can try something more grounded like, "2025 is filled with great opportunities."

The odds are, with the Empress, there likely will be a few great opportunities that come your way, like finding small oases filled with nutritious food blossoming in otherwise torrid and barren looking situations. If you're in the mindset to think of 2025 as being abundant and nourishing, then you will be more primed for those opportunities when they arrive. Being positive about the new year doesn't have to negate justifiable concerns, nor does it erase the troubles of the past. But it does prepare you to make the most of what's to come. Honor your past self and what you and your loved ones have gone through in the past twelve months, give yourself a chance to cleanse and heal by the oasis. Then let yourself stand and receive the blessings that are to come in due time. I'm wishing you much luck and good cheer, pile 1! Happy new year!

Pile 2: Carnelian Flame

Queen of Cups, 0 Fool, 7 of Pentacles, IV Emperor; All That Glitters, Spring Equinox: Rebirth; "Yeh I guess I do stuff but I don't feel like an actual thing yet"; "Everything is energy & energy never dies; it just transforms."

How's it going, pile 2? I chose flames for your pile because even though it's the middle of winter, I felt the invigorating energy of my local spring weather cycle in this pile. Everything from the rain to the warmth to the growth to the heat, in the right order! I sense this pile is very enthusiastic at the idea of having an exciting 2025. I don't wanna say that this could be "your year" so to not jinx it, but I'm inspired by the vibrancy in these cards. You feel more than ready to shed the old unwanted parts of the past and welcome the new you. I'm getting that a sense of imposter syndrome is dwindling away as you become more in tune with your emotions, and this is a growth that has taken place over time. As you give yourself more self love and praise for who you are, the more you're able to integrate the humble parts of you that accept learning and growth along with the parts of you that embrace your innate talents and traits.

With All That Glitters beneath the usually jester-like Fool card, You're learning to distinguish between the fake and the real when it comes to acting that you're accomplished and fulfilled from actually being it. It's a big leap to realize that some happiness is genuine, some confidence is real, and that some assertiveness doesn't hurt but might actually help to demonstrate your ability to lead. This kind of energy, the joy and self-assurance, is all yours. This is like a very soft release of an old ego that clung to the character role of playing small and buffoonish. Pile 2, it's time to give yourself some more credit.

I see 2024 as being a year where you realized some kind of personality change, mainly because you had to. It's like when somebody gets a promotion and suddenly it's like they have to take on a "bigger" role to play and it's like they have to grow their feet to fill into bigger shoes, so to speak. They have to change how they perceive themselves and make it real. You had to take on a larger role than you were ready for and it's created a change in views. So what has to end from that are the old thoughts that try to talk you down. Whatever position you're elevating yourself to, you deserve good things from your change, as flowers bloom from the snow. You've gone through the rite of passage, embrace whatever beauty that you will into your world. You don't need to "fake it" to make it in 2025, pile 2, because You Are It! Wishing you a very bright, happy new year!

Pile 3: Amethyst Sky

XVIII Moon, I Magician, VIII Strength, 10 of Wands; Serendipity, Galaxy: Perspective; "Relax, it's still just the loading screen"; "It takes courage to be honest & authentic. The ones meant for you will stay."

Hello, pile 3. You have a lot of major arcana in your spread, which suggests a major ending that may be happening as this reading is being written. You could be in the midst of a huge transition in your life. I'll admit to chuckling a bit when I saw the loading screen card show up underneath the Moon, as I have often thought of the Moon card as being similar to the uncertainty of an intermission. Like when people rise from the theater for the restroom and concession stand, thinking about how the following act will be. There's a bit of trepidation of finding out what's coming next, especially if this last year has really put you through the wringer. Now would be a good time to freshen up with cheer, relaxation, and good snacks if you feel as though 2025 may be "big" for you in any way.

This reading gives me a strange déjà vu as though I've written this in a dream, so perhaps you may wonder if next year will bring a lot of the same baggage of the previous year. But I see here with Magician that you have a lot of power in your hands to mold your new beginnings into what ever you want it to be, and luck is on your side here. You are a video game player of your life here, not a movie goer observing, and next year can be a chance for you to play around with how you'd rather have things be. See how the loading screen resembles the galaxy in the Perspective card? The loading screen is not there to keep you stuck; this downtime can be used to reassess your path and how you want it to go. So if your life right now is quiet, now is a great time to self reflect on your desires and what you would do if you knew you could do anything (ah great, now I'm thinking about that kid from the meme!).

I see you overall ending the feeling of needing to hold onto baggage from the past. You can feel more comfortable changing course even if it means playing the game differently before and after the loading. You don't have to hold onto an old narrative just because it's what others expect from you. Please take time to rest and recharge in between these major transitions you're going through, and know that the next year does not have to be a repeat of the last. You have the power to change and expand more than you know. Wishing you the best of luck pile 3 and have a happy new year!

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[pixeltwix]

I’ve been thinking about how Emma may goes to play dnd with fidds and Layla in that one post! What does Emma May’s dnd character look like??? Does she go super basic and do like human fighter or does she do a more magic class?

She goes with human rogue, but with a twist!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot, but I have an abandoned campaign character I never fully got to use, so I figure why not give him to Emma May as her own DND character

She is 100% very proud of him and ends up getting way more into the game than she ever thought she would, but it also provides her with something social to look forward to every week

She’s never been very nerdy per say, so she wasn’t quite sure if the others would find her annoying, but she got the hang of it pretty quickly when she was given free reign to detail cool battle moves and weapon ideas

Obligatory showing of the dd&md character in question because I gen love his design and story lore so much (I just unfortunately never got to use him for the intended campaign, so it’s nice to use him for something else :3!!)

[sturnsmadl]

new year, still you.

warnings- a lot of alcohol mentioned!!, kissing, mentions of weed, mentions of breakup, big ego chris, dirty talk, i dont know what else :)

pairing-exbf!chris x exgf!reader.

divider by @bernardsbendystraws!!

a/n at the bottom!

you're getting ready for one of tara yummy's iconic party's it being more difficult then usual because you forgot to buy anything and digging through your wardrobe has shown itself to be quite the chore.

you end up settling on a black mini dress with black heels and a simple hairstyle with a black bow to match.

once you get to the party you look around for your best friend, nicole. you know she would immediately go to the drinks so thats what you do and to no suprise she's stood there mixing a million different vodkas into her cup.

"you look cute." she looks up confused but her face immediately lights up when she see's it's you.

"hey! oh my- you look amazing!"

you give eachother a quick side hug before she carries on with mixing her drink while speaking to you.

"guess who's here?" she looks at you and your eyebrows raise curiously.

"chris." your face drops immediately. chris is your ex and you ended on quite bad terms but honestly you kind of forgot about him until he was just brought up.

you never fully got over him.

"really? is he with anyone?" she smirks at your question and you sigh.

"im just asking." you mix yourself your own drink before nicole wanders off with a random guy who you actually believe is chris's brother, matt.

you walk back through the crowded kitchen to the even busier living room which is when you spot chris who bites his bottom lip and looks you up and down before walking over which makes you gulp as you freeze where you're stood.

"long time no see. princess." you sigh at the use of the pet name you hated so much even while you we're dating, making his stupid smirk get even bigger you can just smell the scent of weed coming off his clothes.

"yeah. seems a good thing." he lets out a small laugh at your stubborness and nudges your shoulder.

"you still mad?"

"i was never mad. it was a mutual decision to end it, i dont get why you're telling everyone different." you look at him as you speak before looking foward, sipping your drink as he responds.

"cause what kind of guy would people think i am if they knew a pretty girl like you ended it with a guy like me?" he laughs arrogantly and you sigh.

"i can see your ego is just as big as it was before."

he smirks and leans down to whisper in your ear.

"thats not the only thing thats big about me and you know it."

you scoff in disgust and he smiles at your reaction.

"what? no denial huh?" he looks down at you as you're trying to suppress your smile.

"shutup." you quickly finish your drink and his eyes widen.

"woah. slow down on the drinking princess. we want you responsive by the end of the night."

just as you go to argue back everyone starts to count down to the new year, chris looks straight into your eyes and as they get to 1 he grabs your chin and kisses you without a second thought.

you freeze and it takes you a second to register whats happening before you relax and kiss him back for a few seconds before pulling back and looking up at him as his hands creeps down to squeeze your ass, something he used to do all the time while you were dating.

"happy new year ma."

you smile and pull your dress down slightly as his hand grips your waist.

"upstairs in 5. yeah?"

you nod as he smirks at you and walks away to the kitchen.

a/n- i have an idea for part 2 of this but i honestly dont think ill go through with it. happy new year whenever yours is :)

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[thesummerstorms]

Okay, so. Silly idea but bear with me. Typical time travel/reset fic idea.

Lucanis and Rook de Riva are engaged, they're clearing house of traditionalists and the kind of folks who would ally with the Venatori in the Crows, they are securing Lucanis's legacy as a reformist First Talon. Something dramatic happens. Possibly one of them or the other is dying or close to death. The world is ending. Wild magic. Somehow this results in time travel. You know how this trope works.

Rook and Lucanis both wake up in their respective Houses a decade younger. No one around them has any idea what they're talking about when they reference their present the future. Viago thinks Rook has had a poor reaction to some poisonous fumes she just saved one of the Fledglings from and gets all worked up about it. Lucanis is doing his best to hide Spite, who is also somehow back in time with him, and Caterina thinks he's having some sort of breakdown or has had a head injury.

They both end up confined and anxious for a while, trying to figure out what happened, draw up the lay of the land, and make a plan. But Spite is desperate to go find Rook, and Lucanis is terrified she won't remember them, that everything he gained, he will've lost.Rook is feeling the same, and also Viago is getting suspicious that she's so interested in the Dellamortes.

Finally, finally though, a meeting is arranged. Arsinoë tails Viago to one of the Talon's meetings, and Caterina has brought Lucanis to try and teach him some of the family business.

Their eyes meet across the room.

"Rook?" Lucanis asks, almost too softly to be heard in the bustle of the Talons gathering themselves to head towards the meeting chambers.

And Rook smiles. Lucanis's heart leaps at it, and it's all he can do to hold Spite back from spreading their wings and shouting.

Once the important people are off elsewhere, they find a convenient alcove or closet somewhere and instantly, there are hands on waists and lips meeting. Possibly the hint of relieved tears. Crows be damned, this is their partner, and they've been so worried.

When enough kisses have been gathered for the moment, Rook presses a hand to Lucanis's cheek, and although she doesn't say anything, he laughs. "I promise to start working on it, mi amor."

"I didn't say anything!"

He rolls his eyes fondly. "I promise, I will work on the beard. It... might take some time." He feels her laughter against his chest, pressed closed as she is, and catches her hand in his, rubbing a thumb across the back of her knuckles.

Suddenly, her gaze goes quiet and thoughtful as she looks at the back of their intertwined fingers, at the smooth band on her left hand, rough runes etched in silver and no stone to be seen.

"Lucanis...I think this means we just restarted the clock on the wedding."

A pause as this fully sinks in.

"... Mierda."

All of those months waiting, with Teia planning the aesthetics, Viago drawing up strategies for the most opportune and least dangerous times for the ceremony (which aren't the same), and Caterina and Viago both negotiating the contracts and dowries, dragging on for what felt like an eternity...

...and now, not only is all of that time lost, all of the preparations for naught, but they are now both in their twenties and presumably unacquainted, with protective older Talons watching their every move and no garnered reputations to give their own words weight.

The timer has not just reset on the wedding, it has been shattered and delayed by several calendars.

Spite growls in the back of Lucanis's mind. He buries his face in Rook's shoulder with a groan of his own.

"I am going. To kill them. All of them. Whoever's responsible. Mierda."

"I know, love. I'll help."

[sapphiresaphics]

1. We did not agree that the classism wasn’t just set dressing. Dunno where you got that.

2. I’ve not deleted anything. If your post isn’t showing up, then tumblr must’ve done something to it because I have no idea what you’re talking about here. I don’t delete posts.

3. That is the most uncharitable interpretation of the ending to season 1 I have ever seen. That’s just… wow. But whatever, let’s say you’re right then. If that IS the way you’re reading the ending of season 1, that the council can’t relate to the people of Zaun anymore and that it’s too late… how is season 2 a betrayal of that theme? Seems to me like Jinx blowing up the council had the exact effects you’re speaking of going into season 2. The council doesn’t view the people of Zaun with empathy. They DO enforce even harder on the class divide. Surly that shows that the themes you’re talking about are still present, no?

4. They DO focus on the cycle of violence in season 2. Ambessa is literally fueling the flames, stoking the undercity to a boiling point. Viktor decides that the way to end the conflict is to enforce his own will on everyone. Forcefully removing your rights and bodily autonomy is a form of violence. Are those NOT explored in season 2 with Ambessa’s dictatorship and Viktor’s glorious evolution?

5. Okay down the list:

5.1 Sevika is on the council. If that’s not an indicator or Zaunites being allowed into Piltover then I don’t know what is.

5.2 We DO see them breaking down the barriers. It happens during Jayce’s speech pleasing for Zaun to help them fight the oncoming war.

5.3 There’s a time-skip there. By the time we cut back to Act 2 the paint has been removed. And Zaun wouldn’t have helped back then because they LIKED that Jinx did that. So not really a fair point.

5.4 I disagree because that’s the inherent tragedy of Piltover and Zaun is the fact they don’t come together fully, and Arcane is a tragedy. All the same though, that’s what Episode 7 was about. Showing what could have been. I don’t see much value in dwelling on that when they already spent an episode focused on it. Nor is this a show with a lot of kid characters for that to happen with. But sure, that’s not an unreasonable expectation, I’ll give you that.

5.5 The shimmer addicts are all dead. They were Viktor’s followers that he evolved into those automatons. And Caitlyn got rid of shimmer when she was general. So that’s out of the question.

5.6 Fair enough, I’ll grant that. Though again I don’t see it as necessary. That’s more wish fulfillment than needed.

5:7 Again, I don’t think that’s reasonable because I don’t think the tensions between them are gone. Especially given the looks Sevika got on the council. Again. That’s the tragedy of the two cities and this class divide. Even a big war isn’t going to stop classism from existing. If it were that easy we wouldn’t have classism in real life!

5.8 Another wish fulfillment, not really necessary.

Seems to me like the main issue is that you wanted the classism to be resolved, and wanted to see happy scenes indicating that this was the case so you can feel good about it. But that’s not what Arcane is, arcane is a tragedy. It’s always been a tragedy. And as such, I had no issues with them not resolving the classism problems.

The cycle of violence was the arcane. Heimerdinger even suggests that the arcane itself might have corrupting properties to it. So when Jayce and Viktor remove the arcane hextech from the world, that breaks the cycle. Neither side Piltover or Zaun can use Hextech to try and get an upper hand on each other anymore which was the driving factor for most of the plot of season 1. That’s why the AU universe was happier, and why the AU future was devastating. Hextech is part of the cycle of violence.

So I dunno, having a big robot battle where the violence is so extreem that Viktor is literally removing peoples free will to stop the violence just like Caitlyn was oppressing Zaun to stop the violence seems pretty fitting to me.

^^^———

Okay two things:

1. That’s NOT the lens of season 1? Season 1 discusses the political issues between the cities, sure, but that’s more SETUP and SET DRESSING than anything else.

But whatever, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that Season 1 actually IS supposed to be about the oppression and inequality between the two cities.

What’s the end of Season 1 say then? Because the end of season 1 is the council agreeing to make Zaun independent and Jinx blowing them away and getting rid of all opportunities to better the two cities. If the show is all about the oppression, what does Jinx blowing up the council when they’re ready to NOT oppress the city anymore mean???

The reason you’re struggling with viewing Arcane through this lens is because it’s NOT the intended lens and it doesn’t match with what the show is doing.

But that also brings me to my next point:

2. If you’re viewing it through this lens, then you understand that you can view it through DIFFERENT lenses, right? Like that’s the basis of most modern day media criticism and analysis isn’t it? Take a work of art and use different lenses to critique it and see how it fares.

So if you agree that lenses can be swapped… why the heck do you struggle with the idea of viewing Arcane through a different lens? Why does it have to ONLY be viewed through this one narrow lens you’ve decided on? Could you also not view it through a queer lens? Or through the lens of civil rights? Or women’s rights?

Or how about… you view it through the lens of the “cycle of violence” which is what the show was INTENDED to be viewed through? Why is that so hard?

If a particular lens isn’t working to view it through, why are you blaming the writers for that? Why wouldn’t your first thought be “hey, maybe I was wrong and this isn’t the lens the show was meant to be viewed through? Maybe I should try another one and see if that’s better?”

You guys all BAFFLE me.

[shadowquill17]

End-of year Director's Cut ask game!

Aaaand this question is about my fic your fangs in my neck (like an anchor like a vow). This is for @nuttersinc who asked:

your fangs in my neck: how did you come up with the premise? And I loved it, it was so hot and also so touching ❤️

Thank you so much for the question! I'm so happy you liked the fic. 🥰

The way it happened was, I had been thinking about writing a vampire fic for Dead Boy Detectives very early on.

But, fun fact, at the time I had immediately decided I wanted to subvert the trope of "prim posh repressed white boy = vampire, rebellious fun angry bisexual = werewolf", and I wanted it to be switched. (I might still write a fic about that, actually. Just have to find the right idea for a smidge of plot... but also @jube-art has a whole bunch of AU fanart with vamp!Charles and werewolf!Edwin here and here, so if you like the concept, RUN! 😜)

Anyway, despite my best efforts to subvert the trope, my brain was apparently feeling lazy, because it just LATCHED onto the idea of vampire!Edwin. The repression, the starvation, the fear of imposing on Charles with his feelings/needs... you know. Some of the messages I sent @lolotr at the time said, and I quote:

"oh god vampire Edwin is so tastyyyyy"

"and I know I talked a lot more about Charles being the vampire but goddamnnnn Edwin being the vampire works so well with the themes, fuck"

Also I just looked it up and I'm pretty sure I also saw this fanart by @kazalmilk around that time, and I think it kind of encouraged a vibe of "Edwin drinks from Charles and H A T E S that he has to" (that's what it did in my brain, at least).

Then I agonized over what Charles could be. He could be a ghost, but then the conflict would have been about Edwin drinking from someone else, and I ended up rejecting that option.

He could be a werewolf, but I was still kind of mad at myself that I was writing vampire!Edwin before vampire!Charles, and I didn't want to give in FULLY. 😜 Also, werewolves are mortal, and I didn't like the idea that 1) they hadn't spent 30 years together, because I didn't want to reduce their long history to only a few years and 2) I didn't want their future to not be forever.

I also toyed with the idea of making Charles an angel, like in this gorgeous fic by @shanastoryteller (I'm oversimplifying, just go read the fic, it's excellent). But then there was some other issue with the concept that made me lean away from that as well. I think it was something about how I didn't want to separate them that much? Like I didn't want Charles to be Heaven-related with Edwin being a vampire, because then their whole history would have been changed.

I was still just playing with the whole thing, writing bits and pieces, absolutely not convinced it would ever be finished or that I even had a solid story to tell (well, beyond that thigh-biting scene 😁).

But THEN I wrote the pub scene. And completely without thinking about it, I wrote Charles turning around to snarl at that guy who was flirting with Edwin, and suddenly there was fire in his eyes and he had a sword and a CROWN?!

And I went, okay, that feels right. Of course Charles deserves a crown. What kind of entity could have a crown? And with a bit of research I found out about Devas from Hindu mythology. That gave the crown a shape, because suddenly it was a mukut, and it gave body to Charles' supernatural nature.

The more I read about it, the more right it felt, and from that point on I knew I had the fic. 😊

Thank you so much for your question @nuttersinc, I really appreciate it! I hope you liked my little rambly answer. Happy New Year! ❤️💕💖

[mialhell]

MeMeMe by Teddyloid ft. Daoko is such a good song. it makes me want to bite something, literally makes me feral. IT'S SO GOOD AAAA