#did i save this picture or did this picture save me

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"I bet on losing dogs"

ok this is like my first time actually writing anything EVER, and I don't know how to work tumblr or make this aesthetic so bare with me pls!! I keep seeing yandere batfam x neglected reader and I have had so many ideas so I'm giving this a shot! The reader is referred to with female pronouns but you can imagine it different if you want :) Reader is 2 years older than Damian and is 15 at the start of the story. Damian is 13. Dick is around 10 years older than reader, making him 25 right now. Jason is 8 years older than reader, making him 23. Tim is 2 years older than reader making him 17. Cass is 4 years older than reader and is 19. Stephanie is 3 years older than reader and is 18. Barbra is around 8 years older, making her 23! Bruce is around 35-40ish??? All just kinda guesses to make the plot and dynamics more clear, lmk if you have any questions!!

This is the prolouge and it kinda sucks so pls be nice. Hearts and comments are appreciated. If it's bad ignore it, english isn't my first language.

You couldn't understand it. You aren't a bad kid, so why were you treated like one? Why did your father treat you like the bane of his existence? Why did your older brothers see you as nothing more than dirt at the bottom of their shoes, a ghost in the manor, a blemish on their picture perfect family of misfits. You tried so so hard to fit in, to be part of the family. You wasted 11 YEARS of your life trying to get noticed, doing activities and hobbies you hated in the hopes of striking conversation with your "siblings". Batman, Bruce Wayne, your "father", ignored you no matter what. He ignored you like it was his job, from the day you came to the manor on your fourth birthday, your mother's death day, to today, your 15th birthday. You saved his life, his and all those other ungrateful losers who you used to call family. Yesterday, you put you life on the line for them, got bitten by that damn snake for them, and they ignored you and told you to walk it off while coddling the girl who suddenly appeared. Never again would you help them, nor would you brush off their mistreatment, not after this betrayal. Not after they took in another girl, a girl your age, the girl who took credit for your heroic act, the girl who bullied you for years at Gotham Prep, the girl who made your life living hell, and called HER family. They choose Tiffany Maverick to be their supposed savior, they would never believe you had the bravery to help them. They chose her to be Tiffany Wayne and scorned you.

You did nothing wrong, from the day you came to the manor you were perfect. Straight A's, no attitude, no complaints and no demands. All you did was try, try, try, and they never noticed.

Richard "The Dick" Grayson, as you and your friends call him, was the world's best big brother to everyone, except you of course! He was your first brother, he was the kid that Bruce Wayne actually wanted to take under his wing. You were 5 and he was 15, he was busy being Robin and then Nightwing. Alfred assured you that Dick adored you, you were his baby sister after all, he was just busy! In later years you realized he was only busy when it came to you. He made time for Damian no matter what, always attended Cassandra's ballet recitals, chatted with Tim and ruffled his hair, and he even dealt with Jason's snarky attitude and biting remarks. Yet, somehow when it came to you, he never had time. Always brushing you off with a shoulder pat and a "Maybe next time sweetheart!" and rolling his eyes when he thought you weren't looking. He's been making time for Tiffany or Tiffybear, as he loves to call her while pinching her cheeks and calling her his favorite little sister, "Don't tell Cass though!" he'll whisper to her. You don't even think he can remember your name. Or that once upon a time you were his "baby bird."

It makes you sick watching her take credit for everything, she's only been in the manor for 6 months and they've all given her more love than they have to you in the past 11 years. She took credit for all your awards, she told everyone she was top of your class, made them "homemade" cakes and muffins. It was all you. She stole everything.

Jason Todd, the red hood, was so mean to you. You used to admire him, looked up to him, and he took all your kind words and gestures for granted and spit them back in your face. Once upon a time, he was your favorite brother, you wanted to be as confident and unshakeable as him, it didn't matter how mean he was now because he was you brother and you loved him. The bond you had before his death was something you couldn't let go of, he was the only one who loved you. When he first came to the manor he was 12 and you came a couple months later. An adorable 4 year old who followed her favorite brother like a duckling. You were 7 when he died. You were 12 when he came back to haunt Bruce and Dick and Tim. You chased after him and tried to resurrect the bond you had for 3 long years. You gave up when you saw them. You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw him and Tiffany sneaking out the manor on a school night, you almost threw up when you saw him strap her on his motorcycle and leave for hours. They came back with shit-eating grins and cupcakes for everyone from a 24hr bakery, everyone except you. The bakery you asked him to take you to months ago. Tiffany saw the tears in your eyes and your clenched fists and she laughed.

Timothy Drake-Wayne, you first saw him after Jason died. Tim, in your 10 year old mind, was trying to steal your dad. Bruce ignored you even more after Jason's death and shut everyone out. Your bond with Tim was non-existent no matter how hard you tried. After you realized he wasn't trying to replace Jason, and saw how he was helping your father heal in ways you couldn't, you tried to bond with him. You attempted to play his video games and ignored his complete disintrest in you and anything that had to do with you in hopes he might come to appreciate you. You brought him coffee after long patrols, asked him about his day, asked to meet his friends, you picked up all his hobbies like hacking, cooking, reading even martial arts and yet he ignored you. You tried to find him in hallways at school, only to be treated like a stranger when you found him. He was embarrassed that you were his sister. You were chubby and awkward and didn't have many friends, he didn't want his cool kid friends to know you were his sister. For 5 long years you chased after him, for 5 years you chased a ghost, and somehow Tiffany captured his attention using one of the gadget-thingys you made in hopes to impress him. She walks the hallways of Gotham Prep with him, a perfect sibling duo, he even had her lunch moved so she could sit with him and his friends. He wasn't embarrassed of her. You watched them get closer in 6 months than you have in 5 years. And it hurt.

But perhaps what hurt most is her newfound bond with Damian. Your baby brother. You tried the hardest with Damian, almost as hard as you tried with Bruce, and yet he chose her while all you got was a sword to your neck and sneers of disgust thrown your way. Damian moved in when you were 12. You were elated, if you couldn't have good older siblings, at least you could be one! That plan went to hell when you realized Damian saw you as less than him. No matter how hard you tried, returned your love with disgust. You tried to show him around school like you wished Tim did for you and he called you " A waste of space and Wayne DNA" and said that there was no way you were of "Wayne" blood and that your "whore of a mother" had to have deceived his father, in front of your two friends and half the school. You could've handled his cruel words if he didn't begin attempting to duel you to become your father's heir. About a year ago, when you tried to hug him he threw you down the stairs and you broke your ankle, you stopped trying with him after that. He was so possessive over Bruce and now that somehow transferred to Tiffany too. You'd feel bad for her if she wasn't eating his obsession with her up.

Barbra, Cassandra, and Stephanie were the "It girls." All practically sisters, they hung out almost everyday and had sleepovers every Friday. They giggled about boys, hook-ups, missions and bonded over everything. You wanted be one of them, you tried so hard to be cool, to be pretty, and they could only see your flaws. You curled your hair and did your nails in hope you would blend with them, you even attempted to be Batgirl at one point. You were quickly denied after Stephanie pointed out that you didn't have the right 'physique' for it. Barbra quickly agreed and said you weren't cut out for it, Cassandra simply looked you up and down. Thats why it hurt extra when they welcomed Tiffany with open arms. Suddenly, she could be Batgirl. She talked to them about boys and bonded with them over girl things. She stole your sisters.

You figured out Tiffany was a spy almost as soon as she came into the manor. Her apperance and ability to act like it was her who saved the Bats from the Joker and his new radioactive snake was not a coincidence, neither was her becoming a vigilante only two weeks after coming into the manor, and neither was you catching her walking out the Batcave with arms full of Batman's weapons and plans. You couldn't believe your luck and pulled out your phone to take a picture, too bad you left the flash on. Tiffany quickly noticed you and tried to explain that it was a misunderstanding when Bruce came into the hallway. You beamed at the sight of him and began to explain what you saw Tiffany doing, only Tiffany was faster. She was quick to blame you for everything, and Batman, the world's greatest detective believed her. She said that you bullied her at school and you were so jealous of her joining the family that you went to steal plans and took pictures to frame her. It was a shitty lie and somehow everyone believed it. You still remember the cold indifference on Bruce's face, the sadness on Alfred's, the look of pure delight on Damian's, the shock on Dick's, the interest on Tim's and the disappointment and disgust on Jason's. Something shifted in you that night. You didn't feel an overwhelming amount of love and longing when you looked at your family, you felt anger. Pure unadultered rage, rage at Bruce for never loving you, rage at Dick for being a liar, rage at Jason for throwing away your bond and cool indifference and disgust at the rest of them.

Maybe that's why your abilities finally formed. Maybe thats why the place the snake bit you that fateful night began to glow as you cried in your bathtub, after being scolded all night and getting body slammed by Damian for trying to "taint his dear sister's image". You had powers now, the agility of a snake, you could eject venom out of your fingertips, you could walk on walls, now you could prove them all wrong.

okayyyy yall this was the prolouge. Again this is my 1st attempt at writing so be nice. If enough people like this I'll put out part one. Hope yall enjoyed and lmk what you want to happen next in the comments!!!!!!!!!

[rispwr]

Tasty - J.JK - Mini (M) —

Pairings : idol! Jk x nepo baby! Reader

Genre : smut, idolverse

Contents/warnings : making out, unprotected sex(yk what to do), nepo baby! Reader, idol! Jk, tasty in busan reference, model! Reader, missionary, fingering if u squint?, oral(fem recieving), pwp

Note : this was kinda rushed. Please don’t expect too much from this. It’s 1:12 am rn huhu i should sleep i have exams💔💔also ive been watching gossip girls all over again. If you find my new characters in my new fics similar to the characters in gg then i probably got inspired. Hdidhudgs i need to sleeppp. scratch that, study actually. Goodluck to me tomorrow, or later…? I’ll be waking up at 4 anyway

Wc : 2k?

As someone new to the modelling industry, I’ll admit, I don’t know much about it. Except for the fact that my mom and dad are both in it, and yeah, maybe their names help. Okay, definitely their names help. They’ve gotten me the brands, the deals, the connections I need. But their advice? Practically useless. I get called ‘nepo baby’ often like it’s some big insult, but honestly? I don’t care.

If I was them, I’d wanna be me too.

this time, I want real advice. Not from my parents, or the people who are just dying to kiss up to me, but from people who actually know what they’re talking about. The real seniors.

The problem?

They’re not exactly the kind of people you can just text for advice. Or… are they?

I’m sitting in the director’s chair during one of my “breaks” (which are so not long enough), watching as he barks orders at the photographers and crew. My phone’s in my hand, and I’m scrolling aimlessly until something catches my eye. It’s a video. An old one. And not just anyone’s video. the exact senior I’ve been thinking about.

Hey, maybe advice isn’t the only thing i’d ask for.

I click on it, my lips curling into a smirk.

“What’s tasty in Busan?” someone asks. I think it’s hoseok? one of the guys in their group. He’s holding a microphone, and Jungkook leans over to whisper something in his ear. Hoseok immediately pulls back, laughing like he’s grossed out. “Jungkookie is weird!” he says dramatically.

Then Jimin jumps in, curious. “What did he say? Tell me too!” He laughs, shaking his head, before leaning into the microphone with this smug little grin. “Everyone… Jungkookie has turned into an adult.”

The camera pans to Jungkook, who’s at his desk, grinning that ridiculous bunny smile of his, looking both shy and pleased with himself.

I can’t help but laugh under my breath. What did he even say? It’s like some inside joke in their fanbase, and honestly, some of the comments on the video are gold. Others?…. Nevermind.

“Okay, Y/N! I think I’ve given you enough of a break,” the director calls out, clapping his hands. “Back to your position, please!”

I roll my eyes, shoving my phone back into my bag as I get up. My four inch heels click sharply against the floor as I walk to the set. It’s exhausting, sure, but if the pictures turn out hot? Worth it.

Still, even after the shoot, that video sticks in my mind.

——

You and your friends, Kayla and Zia, sit at the table, laughing and drinking like it’s the only thing you know how to do. A few hours pass, and predictably, the two of them are completely wasted, while you’re still sitting pretty, your alcohol tolerance saving the night.

“Hey, Y/N and Kay?” Zia slurs out, leaning in way too close and grabbing both your faces in her hands. “Don’t tell Zia I told you guys…” she giggles, already spilling the tea, “but we slept with each other.”

“What??” Kayla suddenly sobers up from the sheer shock, her eyes wide as saucers.

You’re just staring at both of them, blinking in disbelief. “I need more drinks. I don’t have enough brain cells left to process this,” you mutter, grabbing your purse and standing up to head to the bar.

You wobble slightly on your heels? terrible decision for a night like this, but you make it to the counter and sit down on one of the stools, finally giving yourself a moment to breathe.

“Hey, Kook. Truth or dare?” Jimin slurs, clearly a few drinks ahead of Jungkook, who sits there calmly sipping his beer.

“Truth,” Jungkook answers flatly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ugh, no fun, man.” Jimin groans dramatically, leaning forward.

“Fine. Dare,” Jungkook sighs, tilting his head in annoyance but accepting the challenge anyway.

Jimin smirks, his eyes darting across the bar. Then he spots you, sitting on the stool, ordering drinks, completely unbothered. “I dare you to go up to that girl and buy her a drink.”

Jungkook scoffs, raising an eyebrow. He glances at the table, half the members are already passed out drunk, while Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi look on. With a little smirk, Jungkook sets his drink down and gets up, the air of a challenge written all over him.

“Hey,” a deep voice greets you from beside the bar, nearly making you jump.

You glance up, surprised, and then let your lips curl into a small, amused smirk. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

Jungkook stares at you, confused. “I’m sorry?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Where’s your cool guy act now?” you tease, your voice dripping with playful mockery.

Jungkook bites his lip, staring at you for a second before shaking his head with a low laugh. “Let me buy you a drink,” he offers, signaling to the bartender.

“No need,” you say smoothly, already taking the drink you’d just ordered. You lift it slightly to emphasize your point.

“Well then… your number?” he tries again, his smile soft and genuine…. or at least i hope it’s genuine.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to keep the game going. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.” you say with a wink before turning on your heel and heading back to your table, leaving him behind.

For the next three weeks, Jungkook came to the same bar, at least twice a week, hoping to bump into you again. He played it cool, but let’s be real, it was obvious.… well this day must be his lucky day then.

A week ago

“Calvin Klein, you say?” you hum, admiring yourself in the mirror as you try on the lingerie you’d just picked up. The fit? Perfect. You smirk at your reflection, loving the way it hugs your curves.

“Yes, ma’am,” the stylist calls from outside the fitting room.

“I’m in,” you say with a final glance at yourself, satisfied.

Back to the present.

You sit in the chair on set, scrolling aimlessly on your phone when one of the stylists walks up to you. “Are you aware you’re shooting with a partner today?” she asks casually.

“Uh… no?” You raise an eyebrow, confused.

“Jeon Jungkook, Ms. He’s your partner for this shoot. Did your agent not tell you?”

You blink. “I think…?” You give her a weak smile, but she just rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath as she walks away, loud enough for you to catch.

“Doesn’t even have to try to get the brands, and she doesn’t even know who she’s working with,” the stylist grumbles.

You roll your eyes.

Irrelevant words from an irrelevant person.

Satisfied, you adjust your posture as someone calls you to get into position.

“Well, looks like it’s your lucky day, Jeon,” you whisper into Jungkook’s ear as the two of you move into position for the first shot.

———

“Think you wanna tell me the answer to the ‘what’s tasty in Busan’ question?” I teased, cocking an eyebrow at Jungkook as he kept kissing along my neck, his lips warm and soft but slightly distracted.

He froze for a moment, then leaned back just enough to look at me with a crooked grin. “Omygod, you saw that?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

I shrugged, biting my lip to hide my smirk. “You said it so confidently in that video, like you had it all figured out. So? What’s tasty in there, Jeon Jungkook?”

He burst out laughing, his head falling into the crook of my neck as his shoulders shook. “Oh my god, did you actually see that? That was so embarrassing,” he mumbled between his laughs, his ears turning red as he tried to compose himself.

I grinned wider, running my fingers through his dark hair. “Of course, I saw it. It’s the joke of your fans. So wanna tell me?, or better…. Show me?”

Jungkook raised his head, his laughter fading into a playful glare. “Alright,” he said, his voice lower now, a teasing edge to it. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I think I’m hilarious,” I shot back, sticking my tongue out at him.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as his hands slid down to my waist. “You wanna know what’s my answer?” he asked, his tone shifting as his grip tightened slightly, pulling me closer.

I blinked up at him, suddenly aware of the heat in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a sly smirk. “Uh… yeah?”

Jungkook leaned in, his nose brushing against mine as he whispered, “I’ll show you instead.”

Before I could process his words, his lips were on mine, soft but firm, moving with a confidence that made my head spin. His hands slid down to grip the backs of my thighs, and with one smooth motion, he lifted me off the floor like I weighed nothing.

“Jungkook!” I squealed, wrapping my arms around his neck as my legs instinctively locked around his waist. “What are you-”

He cut me off with another kiss, deeper this time, his tongue brushing against mine in a way that made me forget whatever I was about to say. “Still wanna know the answer?” he murmured against my lips, his voice dripping with mischief.

“You’re all questions, are you gonna show or tell me?” I muttered, though the breathlessness in my voice ruined the effect.

He just grinned, carrying me to the bed and laying me down gently, his body hovering over mine. “Oh i will,” he said, his hands already sliding up my thighs, pushing up the hem of my skirt. “But do you think you deserve it?

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep up my usual sass even as heat pooled in my stomach. “Im pretty sure i do”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, and he leaned down to press a kiss just below my jaw, his hands sliding higher up my thighs. “That’s right baby, you do.”

The teasing tone in his voice made my heart race, and when his lips found mine again, any thought of arguing vanished completely.

Jungkook’s lips moved from mine to trail down my neck, his kisses lazy but purposeful, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me shiver. His hands were everywhere. firm on my thighs, sliding higher as he pushed my legs apart.

“You’re already quiet,” he teased against my skin, his voice warm and teasing, sending a jolt of heat straight through me. “What happened to all that attitude?”

“I still have it,” I shot back, though my voice was already breathless.

He chuckled, his lips moving lower, pressing kisses down my collarbone and along the curve of my chest. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” he said, tugging at the hem of my shirt.

“Don’t act so cocky,” I said, but the challenge fell flat as he yanked my shirt up and off in one quick motion, leaving me exposed in my lace bra. His eyes flicked down, darkening as his tongue swept across his bottom lip.

“You were saying?” he murmured, his hands sliding under me to unclasp my bra before I could even protest. The garment joined my shirt on the floor, and I swallowed hard as his gaze drank me in.

“You’re staring,” I muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but my body betrayed me as my skin burned under his gaze.

“Of course I’m staring,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

My retort died on my lips as he leaned down, his mouth closing over one of my nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud while his hand teased the other. A soft moan escaped me before I could stop it, and I felt his smirk against my skin.

“Still got something to say?” he asked, his voice muffled as he moved to give the same attention to the other side.

I glared down at him, tugging lightly at his hair. “Shut up.”

He laughed softly, lifting his head to look at me. “Make me,” he teased, his hands sliding down to my hips as he tugged at the waistband of my skirt.

I arched an eyebrow, determined not to let him have the upper hand. “What if I don’t want to?”

Jungkook tilted his head, his smirk widening “Then I guess i better take the lead, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with challenge.

He grips my thighs before he yanks my skirt down with one swift motion, his eyes dropping to the soaked lace between my legs.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low, “you’re already dripping, Y/N.”

Before I could snap back, he hooked his fingers into the sides of my panties and dragged them down, tossing them aside like they didn’t matter. His hands spread my thighs wide, and before i knew it, his mouth was on me

The first swipe of his tongue sent my back arching off the bed, a gasp tearing from my lips. He didn’t tease, instead he went straight for my clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it with maddening precision.

“Jungkook,” I moaned, my hands flying to his hair, tugging at the soft strands as his mouth worked me over.

He groaned against me, the vibration making my legs shake. His tongue slid lower, teasing my entrance before he pushed it inside, fucking me with it while his nose pressed against my clit.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, my hips bucking against his face, but he just tightened his grip on my thighs, holding me down as he ate me like a man starving.

Every flick, every suck, every moan he let out against me drove me closer to the edge. “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his lips glistening as he pulled back for a second before diving right back in.

My thighs started to tremble, the tension in my stomach coiling tighter and tighter. “I’m gonna- fuck, Jungkook, don’t stop!” I whimpered, my voice breaking as he sucked my clit hard and slid two fingers into me, curling them perfectly to hit that spot that made me see stars.

“Come for me,” he growled against me, his fingers pounding into me as his mouth stayed relentless on my clit. That was all it took. I shattered, my body shaking as my orgasm crashed over me, his name spilling from my lips in a breathless scream.

He didn’t stop until I was a trembling mess beneath him, my body twitching with aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were slick, and the look in his eyes was pure sin.

“You good?” he asked, smirking as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I glared at him, still breathless. “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said, already tugging his pants down.

He then kicks off his jeans and boxers in one quick motion, his cock springing free and standing thick and hard. The sight alone made my mouth water, but he wasn’t giving me time to admire it. He was already climbing back over me, one hand gripping my thigh to hook it around his waist as the other lined himself up at my entrance.

“Ready?” he muttered, his voice low and strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing his jaw and pulling him down for a messy, heated kiss. “Do I look like I want to wait?” I bit back.

That was all the permission he needed. With one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside me to the hilt, stretching me so perfectly that all I could do was gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine as he stayed there for a moment, letting me adjust. “You’re so tight.”

“Then move,” I breathed out, arching my hips against him, already desperate for more.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, but he didn’t tease this time. His hips pulled back, and then he drove forward again, setting a deep, steady rhythm that had me clawing at his back, moaning with every snap of his hips.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough as his hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he fucked into me harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

My body was on fire, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure crashing through me. “Jungkook,” I whimpered, barely able to get the word out as he hit that perfect spot inside me over and over again.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his pace quickening, his teeth scraping against my neck as he kissed and nipped at my skin. “Let me hear you.”

“Jungkook!” I moaned, louder this time, my voice breaking as I felt myself spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his hand sliding down between us to rub at my clit, the added stimulation sending me into a frenzy. “You gonna come for me again?”

“Yes- omygod!! fuck, yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as my entire body tensed, the pressure building until it exploded, my orgasm crashing over me so hard I saw stars.

Jungkook groaned as I clenched around him, his hips faltering for a second before he buried himself deep, his pace turning rough and erratic. “Fuck, baby, I’m close,” he growled, his voice strained as he chased his own release.

“Come inside me,” I whispered, wrapping my legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper. “I want to feel you.”

That was all it took. With a low, guttural moan, Jungkook’s hips slammed against mine one last time, his body tensing as he spilled into me, filling me with heat. He stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against mine as we both tried to catch our breath.

“Guess that answers the question,” he finally muttered, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

I frowned up at him. “What question?”

“What you asked me,” he said, smirking as he kissed me again, his lips slow and soft now, as if he didn’t just wrecked me.

“Idiot,” I muttered against his mouth, but I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me.

The next day.

the comments from my new post….. was surely what i expected.

“Is she a whore?”

“That nepo baby once again”

“New boy of the month?”

“Im leaving this fandom”

Surely i did make alot of fans mad, but what can i say? It was indeed tasty

[leeemonshark]

Would love to know if you have a vision (even just in text form) of a jetbyte "reunion" considering they don't rly interact after the quintesson arc and their lack of a proper moment together in the finale specials plagues me 😔

(full picture below)

I'm a terrible writer, haha, but here's how I imagine it, in short:

For a long time, they didn’t want to admit to themselves that they missed each other's presence (after all, for the last few million years, all they had been doing was chasing each other). While the wall was between them, they made no attempts to contact. (I imagine during this period Sky-Byte wrote a lot of sad haikus lol)

After the wall disappeared and peace was established, they started meeting often, through work or "accidentally" (at this point, everyone else started suspecting that something strange was going on between them), and gradually, they began to admit that they enjoyed each other's company (at least to themselves).

And after the battle with Tarn, Sky-Byte and Jetfire are finally convinced that they can truly trust each other (AT LEAST we have a scene where Jetfire saves Sky-Byte) and that their friendship could grow into something more.

(I want to believe that behind the scenes they did meet to discuss everything)

[aceduchessdragoness]

[Updates Part 4]

22 November 2024

We are deprived and dying from the cold. Winter has come again, our favorite season. We have become unbearable because water enters us while we sleep. Throughout the night, I did not sleep an eye as I monitored the water and prevented it from entering the tent Please help us

22 November 2024

Today we are without bread and the queues at the bakery are beyond imagination and the children are crying because there is no bread. Night falls upon us in the tents and the cold eats us up because there is no flour. If it is available, the price of a bag today has exceeded $300. And the price of blankets has also exceeded $100 for each light blanket. We do not know what to do. Please save us and donation more

22 November 2024

Have you ever tried sleeping outdoors? We are still in dire need and we are still dying on a daily basis Every donation makes a difference for us

23 November 2024

The famine is still ravaging us Today we were standing in line at the bakery since 4 am As a result of the crowding and pushing, a severe dispute broke out between two families and reached the point of physical assault The two parties did not remain silent and one of them pulled out a weapon and killed 4 people Three women and a man No one remained at the door of the bakery My children and my elderly father were waiting impatiently for me to enter with bread We do not know what to do. Two days have passed without them eating even a piece of bread. Please help us

23 November 2024

Very important Here is an update on food prices here in the Gaza Strip Dated 11/23/2024 Not to mention the unavailability of the most important thing, which is bread, as its price today has reached $300 A person who supports a number of people cannot and does not have the strength to do so alone We are in dire straits and do not know what to do

24 November 2024

In the picture, there is a list of prices in Gaza for basic food items, 24/11/2024 most of which are not available, and if they are available, they are very expensive.

25 November 2024

Words & pictures are unable to describe the painful, oppressive, humiliating & terrifying life we have reached. All we want from you is to support us. Allah will show mercy to those who show mercy.

25 November 2024

My daughter Joan has been suffering from severe intestinal flu for two days. There are no medications and there is no clean environment. She is very sick and cannot bear the illness because of her illness when she was young, esophageal reflux, from which she recovered shortly before the war. There are no medications and the treatment that is supposed to be distributed for free today costs more than 50 euros. Please do not abandon us, we are in dire need.

29 November 2024

Urgent and cannot tolerate any delay Due to the severe cold and after the continuation of the low pressure system that is still affecting the Gaza Strip All members of my family are sick I need to buy more blankets so that we do not shiver with cold The cost of these blankets exceeds 2000 euros We are really in dire need

1 December 2024

My Daughter, Joan, Is 6 Years Old She Needs Urgent Surgery I Hope You Can Help Us The cost of the surgery is $2,000. I collect 700/2000 Please stand with me more

2 December 2024

After doing an endoscopy on my 6 year old daughter, the doctors decided that she has a hole in her stomach and therefore she needs prescriptions on a weekly basis. All this happened as a result of malnutrition and polluted water. And unfortunately I say that on a monthly basis the cost of these prescriptions exceeds $1800. Stand by my daughter and my family, we are in dire need.

5 December 2024

My children deserve the beat. They can’t stand Hunger. Donate!!

[More in Updates Part 5]

6-year-old Joan Al-Habil is has been repeatedly hospitalized due to severe gastrointestinal problems and overwhelming fatigue. This poor girl has been to multiple facilities and seen multiple doctors, undergone extensive testing (as extensive as is possible in Gaza's collapsed medical system), even having to endure an unsedated endoscopy.

She has now been diagnosed with severe gastritis due to starvation and hazardous living conditions. Remember, she and her family are living on the streets, which are cold and wet due to winter rain. Homelessness, stress, exposure to the elements, her previous injury when the lOF firebombed her tent, and malnutrition all conspire to sap little Joan of her strength.

Her condition is so serious that she even had to undergo surgery. Gastritis very rarely requires surgery to treat, so this is an indication of how dire her condition is. The surgery was successful to a degree, but she is going to need ongoing treatment to manage her symptoms.

The treatments are administered weekly and cost $500 USD (just under €500 EUR). Her family has no income and cannot afford this. If Joan goes more than a few days without treatment, her symptoms worsen rapidly, and she sometimes has to be hospitalized. It is vital that we help her family procure her treatments so that her condition does not worsen!

You can help Joan get her surgery and treatment by

reblogging this post

copy-pasting this link (https:// gofund.me/85a1b400) in your own Tumblr posts and all across your social media accounts to share her family’s story

boosting posts from her parents @mahafamily1 and @ahmed-family-1

donating to her family’s GFM campaign below

Current: €22,271 EUR

New temporary goal: €22,771 EUR

Need to raise: about €500 EUR ($500 USD)

[silverfeatheredserpent]

Bartimaeus & Nathaniel

I wanted to draw this picture on a tablet, but then I wanted to transfer it to canvas with paints. Now, from the outside, it seems to me a little religious, but in fact it's not at all.

I really like the image of Bartimaeus in the days when he lived under King Solomon and Ptolemy - despite all the evil that the magicians did to him, he still remained himself.

He also saved Nathaniel's soul.

After all, we all understand that if it hadn't been for Bartimaeus, Nathaniel would have died long ago and the callous and cold John Mandrake existed instead. I won't say that I'm 100% satisfied with the result, but I got creative pleasure painting these feathers, shadows on clothes, splashes of rain and emotions on their faces. Aloof, incredibly strong mentally, but at heart a very lonely Nathaniel, whose only friends were silent books - the last time he cried was when Mrs. Underwood died, the only person he loved.

And he was left alone.

Among the greedy, corrupt, vile wizards, there is only a boy who has been attacked by everything at once. This song symbolizes the British government in my head - "a flock of crazed birds." Vultures who pretend to be colleagues, but in fact are just waiting for you to make a mistake.

Bartimaeus, on the other hand, is calm. He understands all this. He's seen too much over thousands of years, so I think his help for Nathaniel wasn't entirely imposed by his endless Imprisonment. After all, despite everything that followed, he never revealed John Mandrake's true name to anyone and did no harm.

I'm sure such an inventive genie could have found a loophole.

But he didn't.

He stayed with him until the end. This peace with a hint of truth is what I wanted to show. The way the genie covers the real Nathaniel with his wings from the dank downpour on his soul, from the real demons longing for his death, and calms him down.

Bartimaeus was the last person Nathaniel showed his tears to. Nathaniel was still himself only because of Bartimaeus.

And while darkness, bad weather and demons are raging outside, there is silence, tranquility and a starry sky under the powerful wings.

[animangalover-writes]

Yk it really bothers me when I see people talking about eurylochus and the crew like they were the problem. It just feels like everyone is just missing the point. Yes they stopped listening to ody, yes eurylochus opened the wind bag, but that's what makes them so human.

Picture this, you leave your home to fight in a war. It takes literal years for this war to be over. You've lost friends, you miss your family, you've been through hell. You're starving and your captain tells you they found food on this island.

And then the cyclops happens. More friends die, you barely escape with your life, and your captain gives his name to the creature that killed your friends.

And everything after that is a direct cause of that decision.

So you hesitate to trust him. Yes he's smart, he's capable, he always has a plan. But he would do anything to get home, and you know that. So when he comes back to the ship claiming to have a bag full of wind, and when he refuses to let anyone near, refuses to trust his own crew, you get suspicious.

Its been about a decade by this point, and your captain seems to get more and more desperate to get home. A god is after you. Odysseus is forcing himself to stay away, all to make sure nobody touches that bag.

Its human, it's realistic, it makes sense that someone would open the bag. Because odysseus stopped trusting you, and so you stop trusting him. So you open the bag.

I just find it frustrating that people look at the crew/eurylochus as bad guys because of this, as pawns for ody to get home and thats it. The point of the show is that ody has become a monster, has dealt with and left behind his humanity. We, as listeners, root for him. We give him grace because of his circumstances. Because he's the main character.

But for some reason, people don't give that same grace to the crew. They're human, their circumstances are awful too. They have no idea if they will get home, they aren't sure then can trust their captain anymore. They question things. They make mistakes. They cause the deaths of others. It's human, its that feeling you get when you think that maybe hope is lost after all, it's what this story is about. Mistakes and loss and blame.

People dislike Eurylochus because he opened the bag. But odysseus gave the cyclops his name. And polites trusted the lotus eaters. And Athena told odysseus to be cruel to a fault. Nobody here is innocent, not really. And none of them knew better either. They were working with what they had, with the terrible circumstances at hand. It's no wonder they made mistakes. It's no wonder people died.

Why are we ignoring the humanity of the crew? Why are we arguing that they, or that eurylochus, deserved it? If the story was about them, odysseus would be seen as the bad guy. But he's the main character, so the others are stupid and wrong, right? All that matters is that odysseus gets home, right? Even if it costs the lives of his crew. His crew who stopped trusting him when he stopped trusting them. His crew who he sacrificed to get home.

I think we're missing the point here. Odysseus did become a monster, and although we cheer for him getting home and Penelope and Telemachus forgive him, we have to acknowledge that he did do terrible things. Those men will never see their families again. Why are we erasing that humanity in them?

Humans do bad things for the sake of saving themselves or the ones they love. That includes Odysseus. That includes Eurylochus. That includes the crew. And that includes every other character in this musical.

[zepskies]

Omgg girl I'M so excited to see what you thought of Part 3! It's a bit slower than Part 2, but we've got some big emotional hurdles in this one... (loll mommy needs some you time. 💜💜)

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

Aww thank you so much! I went to Seattle a few years ago in the fall, and it was absolutely beautiful with the trees changing their colors and basically painting the ground with different colors. 💜

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

Oh definitely, poor thing. She's so very done with bears too. 😅 Aww I was hoping people would see that, even in this small glimpse of her and her dad's relationship. I always find it so adorable when dads are the bigger "sap" in the relationship. 😂

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Oh you BET loll!!

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣 I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

The tensiooooon loll.

Ooh that makes sense loll. For me I thrive in that angst for some reason. Like, making it through all the uncertainty and fear appeals to my hopeless romantic heart to have the battered hero eventually come home to the one he loves. 🥹💗

But yeah, she really shouldn't be going out there on a suss ankle in the middle of winter. 🫠🫠 (Also I'm saving that worried Ross gif LLOL)

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Ooh yeah I learned about that from watching modern survivalists talk about their experiences on Joe Rogan's podcast lmao. They literally eat the whole caribou, moose, etc. Cartilage and bone and all. 🤢 So it still goes on today, believe it or not! But oh yeah, when America was still being settled, for example, certain Native Americans tribes would trade with European settlers and American traders for furs.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

bahaha I'm glad you liked that little internal monologue. 😘

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Honestly you're probably right loll. At first he'd be like "wtf?" But then he'd probably melt and smile ruefully/soft. 💕

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

Yeah I feel like we all knew it was headed here, but it was still heartbreaking for me to even write too. 😭💙

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

Ahaha that's what I hoped you'd say. 😏💓

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!! It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

LOLL I imagine you grabbing him by his ear. 😂 But right? I feel like in any kind of canon setting, you have to deal with Dean's (lack of) self-worth, as well with his fear of being a danger to the ones he loves. 💙💙

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Honestly this is why I keep writing that "deal with your self-worth" stuff when it comes to Dean, because I really wished he could've found his happiness like Sam got in the end of S15. 😭

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Aw thank you!! That's one of those details I hope people notice when they read this chapter. 🥹

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

I so hope you enjoy the final part, my friend!! 🥹🥹 This little series was so fun, especially to explore the omegaverse trope/world with some Alpha Dean, giving those post-S15 angsty feels. In a way, it's kind of a S15 fix-it fic. And idk if you remember, but our convo way back about spicy goodness in a cabin in front of the fireplace is more or less what inspired the next chapter (and the whole fic, really). 😂💜

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[forevergoldgame]

Episode 1 Progress Update, Part 2

We're in the process of putting all the story scenes we've written in-engine! As we go, Dan's hacking through the remaining art assets, and I'm tying up some loose ends related to systems and variable storage.

Keep reading for more details!

Writing, writing, writing

At this point, the draft mentioned in the previous update has been more or less fully realized. There's still plenty of editing to do, of course, but the episode's narrative is complete aside from a collection of short variable scenes.

We won't reveal too many specifics just yet, but the scope of Episode 1 will take you from Quincy's last day as mine inspector through to the christening of the Prince's Convoy. Along the way, you'll meet most everyone from the demo (save for Oscar and Imani) as well as a few characters you haven't, make foundational choices about the kind of man Quincy is, and actually get a proper introduction to the setting and conflict.

Changes to: art, character designs

You may have noticed some of the portraits in these screencaps are different from the demo. Once Episode 1 is out, it will be much harder to make design changes, and so we've decided to take the opportunity to revise a few character designs we weren't happy with. Nothing too crazy, but you might see a change of hair style or color here and there.

Art updates might happen here and there throughout development as Dan's work evolves, but the character designs themselves are less likely to such alterations after release. (Not counting diegetic changes in appearance, of course.)

[PICTURED: Dan's faltering suspension of disbelief over Lucas's ability to continuously dye his roots while traveling. ]

Changes to: systems, traits, and more

As we wrote Episode 1, I spent a lot of time rethinking the back end. Writing an entire episode gave me perspective on how the systems I wrote for the demo did and didn't work. I could talk at length about this, but most of said systems (like experience/leveling and reputation) were not represented in the demo due to its small scope. Seeing as no one would really understand or appreciate the details, I'll try to keep it brief instead.

LEVELING: Originally, leveling was going to be based on earning experience points. EXP would be awarded for completing quests and attempting skill checks, but we found that pacing an EXP curve in a game like this was a lot of work for a system which is ultimately at odds with a story based more on "narrative" than "winning." In the end, we did away with the concept of EXP in favor of a leveling system that is tied to main story progression.

REPUTATION: You may recall from the demo that Quincy's statistics listed a few different reputation continuum: rebel or orthodox, apathetic or ambitious, and so on. These were going to be tallies that kept track of the player's cumulative actions so that the system could easily calculate how certain characters felt about Quincy in a somewhat organic way. However, once we got writing, we realized the system was needlessly complicated, full of logistical holes, and redundant with other decision tracking handled by other parts of the system. And so, I replaced it with...

IDEALS: Ideals are somewhat like traits in that they alter text pertaining to Quincy's inner monologue and offer the player special dialog options. However, unlike traits, Quincy's ideals are somewhat malleable. If a Quincy with the "earnest" ideal continuously lies at every opportunity... well, eventually someone will notice.

AFFINITY/FRIENDSHIP: Much like reputation, the affinity system from the demo was both overly complicated and too simple to do what it needed. We knew we wanted something more organic than the standard "you completed my sidequest so now I'm in love with you because you're the main character" RPG approach since Forever Gold is more story-based, but the solution I came up with... was stupid.

I won't say how the new affinity system works - it'd spoil some of the magic if I told you exactly what actions the game was tracking and why - but it's simple on the back end while having enough complexity to create interesting roleplaying.

TRAITS: Traits have largely remained the same but have gained more importance as other systems shifted. In addition to the eight available to choose in the demo, there are three more to see in Episode 1. A few of them have been tweaked or renamed for clarity: the two traits that shared the name "Haretouched" are now called "Pariah" and "Maverick" to prevent confusion, and "Cleithrophobic" has been expanded into "Wilding" so that it better acts as a parallel quirk to Plutonist.

BETTER TOUCH CONTROLS FOR MOBILE + SMOOTHER NAVIGATION FOR DESKTOP: As it says on the tin. A lot of navigation that felt like it should have been swipeable on mobile or scrollable on desktop wasn't. But it is now!

In closing...

We're getting there. Man are we getting there. We've been pulling crazy hours on this lately.

-LS

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 13

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hiii! Remember I will be posting a new chapter every Thursday. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know! Don’t forget to like and repost! <3

Remy’s POV

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, trying on the costume that I ordered. I was going to be sexy Scream. Billie was going to her party dressed as Todd from Bojack Horseman and insisted that I dress up as Princess Carolyn, but honestly I just wanted to go for something more… I don’t know, sexy?

I take a picture and send it to her, hoping for approval.

Immediately I get heart eye and fire emojis, followed by a FaceTime call.

I answered, pointing the camera at the mirror and posing in different ways. “What do we think?”

“Hot. But you’d look hotter as Princess Carolyn.” Billie teased.

I rolled my eyes, reverting to front camera again. “Too bad, Todd.” I stuck my middle finger up at her, then set my phone up on my dresser pointing at me from the waist up. “What time are you getting here tonight?” I asked, unzipping my costume.

“Around 10, probably.”

Turning around to face the other wall, I dropped my bodysuit around my ankles. “You still coming over?” I had to repeat myself, figuring she didn’t hear me. “Billie. You still wanna come over later?” I turned around, clipping my bra back on.

“Sorry, yeah. Duh.” She finally answered. “And those cinnamon rolls better be ready when I get there.” She emphasized.

“They will be. I just have to make the icing.” I pulled on some sweats and grabbed the phone, walking over to my kitchen.

“You mind if I bring someone to your party?” I asked, setting the phone down on the counter as I reached for a bowl and ingredients.

“Not at all. Do I know them?” She asked.

Suddenly my phone started buzzing. “Hold up, I gotta get this call. It’s work.”

“Call me back!” Billie said, before I hung up and answered the next call.

“Hey, Rachel, what’s up?” I held the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I mixed the ingredients together.

“Hey, Remy, is this a good time?” She sounded a bit sporadic.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s going on?” I hesitated.

“Sooo… Remember that interview we did for the digital article we were brainstorming for? The one for the app?”

“The one we did with RAYE?” I put the whisk down and adjusted my phone.

“Yes! That one!”

“What about it?”

“So, Joe wants it up by tomorrow. Something about needing to beat People magazine? An insider told him they’re publishing a similar piece with her.”

“Well, yeah, she’s definitely getting more traction.” I said, already knowing what comes next.

“I know you’re gonna hate me, but I really need you to go to the office, get on my computer, and finish the article out. Oh- And set it to be published by tomorrow in the morning!” Her high pitched voice was fast and panicked.

“Rachel, I had plans tonight and-“

“I’d do it myself but I’m all the way in San Diego at this conference thing. Its mostly done, and saved to my drafts. It’s really urgent.” She pleaded, knowing Joe would be extremely pissed if she didn’t follow through.

“Sure, I’ll be on my way in a little bit.”

“Ugh! You’re the best! I owe you one! Don’t forget to credit yourself on the article too!” She squealed.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you later, don’t worry.”

“Love ya, girly! Thanks again!” She hung up.

I groaned, finishing up the icing and shoving the bowl in the fridge. In my room, I threw on a yellow baby tee, some wide legged jeans, and put my hair in a red claw clip. I stopped by the round mirror next to my apartment door to check on my face, fixing the minor details, and walked out with my beige crossbody bag.

At the office when I accessed Rachel’s computer, I quickly realized I had a lot of work to do. I sat for hours editing, deleting, then retyping her work. My eyes were shutting on me as I concluded the article, exhausting my brain to come up with anything impressive.

My phone began to ring, making me jump. I answered the call, my heart racing from the sudden scare.

“Hey, I just landed!” Billie sang.

“Fuck. Hey, I’m sorry, I got so busy and I’m stuck at the office right now-“

“Remy!” She moaned. I could hear her disappointment through the phone.

“No, don’t worry, I’m wrapping it up! Just head over to my place and wait for me in there. You still have my spare key, right?”

“Yeah.” She said, monotoned.

“I’ll be there so soon, just put those cinnamon rolls in the oven and by the time they’re ready, I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay, Rem.” She said goodbye.

I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders back, sitting up straight. I used every single one of my last brain cells to come up with a brilliant conclusion to the article. I let the interview speak for itself and included some quotes from the amazing Raye, but I found myself in the biggest case of writers block I’ve ever had. All I could think about was how much I hated Rachel in this moment for making me do this myself, knowing Joe would give her all the credit.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, I finished what could possibly be the worst article I’ve ever written. It wasn’t bad, just rushed, and I usually don’t work well under pressure. Before posting the article, I stared at the space underneath, where credit is usually given to the writer and editor. I hesitated to delete Rachel’s name, and typed in my own. I stared at it some more, deleting my name and retyping Rachel’s full name, then my name under editor. I sighed, setting the article to be posted tomorrow morning at 8am.

I shut the laptop and grabbed all my things, rushing out the door.

When I arrived at my apartment building, I pressed the elevator button a million times, ending up at my door and unlocking it as fast as I could.

I opened my door, psyched to see my best friend, only to see her passed out on my couch in her comfy clothes. I quietly closed the door, hanging my things on the tiny rack. In the kitchen, was a half empty baking tray with cinnamon rolls. The icing was poured over, and the rolls were starting to get cold. I put them away, covering the top with foil, and cleaned up a little.

I tip toed over to my couch, wondering how she was able to fall asleep on a two seater comfortably. She was curled up in a little ball, with my pastel crocheted blanket covering half of her face. I smiled down at her, feeling awful I made her wait so long alone. I wanted to welcome her home with open arms, and fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.

I turned off the tv, and turned down the lights, leaving only my soft, warm, reading lamp on. I patted her lightly. “Billie… I’m home.” I brushed the hair that fell over her eyes behind her ear, and leaned down to hug her tired body. I buried my face in her neck and took that sweet, familiar scent in, bringing a smile to my face. I wish I could carry her to my bed, but let’s be honest, I don’t have any upper body strength. “You’re so warm, and you smell like cinnamon rolls.” I whispered.

She let out a slight moan and stretched out her curled up feet. Her lashes fluttered open, turning her neck a little as I sat up. “Hi!” I smiled ear to ear.

“Remyyyyy!” She stretched her arms out, wrapping them around my neck.

“Hiii! It’s me!”

“I missed you.” she pulled me into her chest. I crawled on top of her and laid there, propping my head up to see her.

“I know, I’m sorry I made you wait. It was an emergency.”

“You know what else is an emergency?” she said, lifting a brow, jokingly. “Me kicking your ass for not spending any time with me while I’m here.”

“Stop!” I laughed, deep down feeling awful. “No more. I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

She placed both her hands on my face, looking at me for a moment, before squishing my cheeks together. “You better be.”

I placed my hands on top of hers, taking in the moment. I had missed her so much. Nothing was going to keep me from spending time with her. She deserved my undivided attention for making the time to see me. I believe she felt the same, her eyes scanning me as I smiled up at her.

“Okay. I need to see this costume in person.” She broke the silence.

I laughed, “Okay, let’s go.” I stood up, pulling her into my room.

I pulled out the costume and began to undress. Billie sat on my bed, her legs criss crossed. “So, who are you bringing tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m probably not gonna bring anyone anymore.”

“Aw, why? They cancelled?” She leaned back on her hands.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanna hang out with you there.” I pulled up my nylon tights.

“Nah, bring your friend, Rem. We can all hang out!” She shrugged.

“Really?” I smiled, squeezing into the tight bodysuit.

“Is it Rachel?” She asked, signaling me over to her so she could zip me up.

“No. It’s this girl.”

“At least it’s not some guy.” She laughed, sliding the zipper up, adjusting my straps.

“Well, no it’s not a guy, but it’s this girl I’ve sorta been talking to.” I admitted, nervously.

I’d never really been in a serious relationship with a woman, at least not in the way I had with a man. I don’t think I’d ever told Billie I tried with girls, despite them being some of my favorite interactions. They were too short lived to bring up. I knew how hesitant she was about my relationships, and didn’t usually bring them around her until it was serious. Especially because I had been used to get near Billie before. Especially by girls.

“Like, as friends?” She turned me around, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

“No…” I pursed my lips.

“Wow! I didn’t know you-“ She blinked rapidly, looking shocked. “That’s awesome, Rem.” She let go, realizing she was still holding onto my shoulder straps.

“Yeah, it’s kinda a new thing, I guess…”

“No, I’m just… Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean you know I’m-“ She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off the side. “I’m sorry, this is just the first I’m hearing of this Remy.” She giggled, her eyes wide.

“Jeez, is it that surprising?” I smacked her tummy.

“Yes!” She laughed. “What’s her name? Who is she?” She pulled me on the bed, desperately trying to gather as much information as she could. “Show me her instagram!”

“Her name’s Stevie. She works at Variety with me. She’s an intern.” I pulled up her instagram showing her my favorite pictures.

“Ouu, cute.” She took the phone from my handed scrolling through her whole profile. “How long has this been a thing? Is it like a serious thing?”

“No, no. We’re just talking. She… I don’t even think she knows I like her like that.” I shrugged, laughing a bit.

“Oh, well she definitely likes you. You look her type.” She handed me back my phone.

“Her type?” I looked at her.

“Yeah, pretty girls with pretty eyes, long hair, and tattoos.” She looked me up and down, pointing at my arm tattoos.

I laughed, getting up and walking over to my body mirror. “I hope so.”

She stayed quiet, watching me look in the mirror.

“So? What do you think?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“You look stunning. Insane.” Billie smiled at me. I could see her through the mirror, her expression turning blank once I turned.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna be Princess Carolyn with me?”

“Kinda?” I turned to her, shrugging.

“You’re such a loserrr!”

“But I’m a sexy loser.” I held my finger up in the air, making her laugh. I took a couple pictures of myself in the mirror.

“Here.” She offered to take them for me, pulling out her phone. I posed, the flash reflecting off the mirror behind me. She leaned back, getting my best angles, as always.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked girls?” She asked, her voice soft and quiet.

She sounded a bit hurt, like I hid something from her. I couldn’t help but feel like I kept a part of myself from her.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I walked over to her, turning around so she could unzip me.

“How long?”

“Mmm… a while. You remember Cassie?”

She nodded.

“We did some things… I think that’s when I realized.”

“You never told me about that!” She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” I shrugged, stepping out of my costume, pulling off my tights. “It’s not like I had anything serious with any of them. I’ve only ever told you about my serious relationships.”

“Well yeah, but-“ She stopped herself, looking disappointed. I put a giant t-shirt on over my bra and underwear, and hung up my costume for tomorrow. “You tell me everything. I told you…”

“I know.” I climbed on my bed, getting under the sheets. “I thought you kinda knew, I guess.”

“Well…” She crawled over and made herself comfortable next to me. “Now that I know… You better not hit on me.” She joked.

I laughed, grabbing my pillow and hitting her in the face with it. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ow! My eye!” She held her face, wincing her eyes.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” I grabbed her face, moving her hand so I could see. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Gotcha bitch!” She licked the side of my face and rolled away, almost falling off the bed. She laughed that crazy, loud laugh I loved so much.

“Oh- Fuck you dude come here!” I kicked my feet into her back, pushing her off the edge as she died of laughter.

I got back in my spot, fluffing my pillow and getting comfortable again. She stood up, pushing her hair out of her face and plopping back on the bed with me. “My stomach hurts from laughing so much.” She put a hand on her tummy, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

My full-size bed was just big enough for the both of us, as long as I kicked off a few of my many pillows. I turned on our show, letting it run in the background as we talked a bit more before falling asleep.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” I smile, still paying attention to the tv.

“Me too.” She said, pausing to laugh at something one of the characters on tv said. “So are you bringing Stevie?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Do you think she’ll like my costume?”

“She’s going to die when she sees you.” Her voice sounded genuine.

“Do you think I should ask her out tomorrow?” I looked over at her, putting a hand on my mouth.

She looked at me, not knowing what to say. She bit her bottom lip, shrugging with her eyebrows instead of her arms, since they were warmly tucked under my blankets. “I mean, maybe just wait and see what she says. You don’t wanna push things, you know?” She advised me.

I nodded, looking back at the tv.

“That’s just what I’d do, you know?” Her eyes stayed on me. “But, do whatever feels right.” She added.

“Right.” Nod, snuggling closer to her, laying my head on her shoulder. She yawned, letting me know it was getting late.

A silent while later, I lift my head to see a passed out Billie. After turning my tv and lamp off, I lay my head on my pillow, facing her. She peacefully slept with her mouth slightly open and a furrow on her brows so soft, you could only tell if you looked close enough. I smooth it out with my thumb gently, watching her lick her lips and grunt. Her body turned towards me, our chests parallel to each other. She sloppily threw her arm over me, her fingertips resting on my lower back, which my oversized t-shirt had left exposed. I pulled the bottom hem, attempting to cover up, even though it didn’t matter anyway.

The last thing I saw before shutting my eyes and drifting off, was Billie’s face. She always made soft angry or worried faces in her sleep. I had so many pictures on my camera roll of her funny faces during naps. I smiled thinking about the party tomorrow, and how I get Billie for the rest of the weekend.

I took a mental screenshot of my view and dozed off.

[yassbishimvintage]

Is it Me? (Studio pt 5)

Warnings: Angst

One day Amari was scrolling down Instagram when she got an unusual dm. It was someone she didn’t follow or followed her. The preview of the message read ‘I have something to say about your little boyfriend.’

Amari raised an eyebrow as she stared at the DM preview. Her initial instinct was to ignore it—she wasn’t one to feed into drama, especially from strangers. But curiosity got the better of her. After a moment's hesitation, she tapped on the message.

It opened to reveal a single sentence followed by an attached screenshot: "I think you should know what your boyfriend's been up to when you're not around."

Amari's heart skipped a beat as she clicked on the screenshot. It showed Brendan in what looked like a dimly lit lounge. He was sitting at a table, leaning in close to a woman who was smiling at him.

Her stomach churned. She stared at the image, trying to make sense of it. The angle was cropped, and the lighting was questionable, but the implication was clear enough to unsettle her.

Before she could overthink, another message from the same user popped up: "Check the blogs. This isn't the first time, girl."

Amari sat back, her mind racing. She hated jumping to conclusions, but the nagging doubt crept in. Instead of replying, she decided to take a deep breath and handle this the way she always did—with composure and clarity.

She texted Brendan: "Hey, can we talk when you get home? Something weird came up."

Whatever the truth was, she was determined to hear it directly from him.

Amari hesitated before opening the blog, already dreading what she might see. Her pulse quickened as the page loaded. The headline read:

"Mid Sized Sedan Spotted Cozying Up to Mystery Woman in Downtown Lounge—Trouble in Paradise?"

Her stomach sank as she scrolled through the article. The blog had posted multiple photos, all taken at different angles, showing Brendan sitting at a table with the same woman from the DM screenshot. In some, they were laughing; in others, the woman leaned closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

The captions only made it worse: "Is Mid Sized Sedan  stepping out on Amari? Fans speculate as new photos surface.""The rapper seen enjoying another woman’s company—Amari nowhere in sight."

Amari closed the page, feeling a mixture of anger, hurt, and confusion. She knew the media loved to twist stories, but the images were undeniable. Her trust in Brendan told her there had to be a reasonable explanation, but her emotions were harder to silence.

She sat back on the couch, her phone still in her hand. Another DM popped up from the same stranger: "See what I mean? Be careful who you trust."

She didn’t reply. Instead, she saved the photos and waited for Brendan to come home. This was something she needed to address head-on.

-

When Brendan stepped through the door, he immediately scanned the room, his eyes landing on Amari sitting on the couch. She was quiet, her posture tense, and the usual warmth in her gaze was replaced with a guarded expression. He knew something was wrong.

"Hey, babe," he said cautiously, setting his keys and phone on the table. "You good?"

Amari didn’t respond right away. Instead, she turned her phone around, showing him the blog post with the photos. "Care to explain this?" she asked, her voice steady but edged with hurt.

Brendan’s eyes flicked to the screen, and his jaw clenched as he saw the images. He let out a deep sigh, sitting down across from her. "It’s not what it looks like, Amari," he started, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "That’s one of Malik’s friends. She’s working on a project we’re helping with—nothing more."

Amari raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "So she just casually rests her hand on your arm during business meetings now?"

"I get how it looks," Brendan said quickly. "But I swear, I didn’t even realize she did that until I saw these pictures. It wasn’t like that, babe. I wasn’t flirting, I wasn’t being shady. You can even ask Malik."

She studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. "And the DM I got? Someone sent me a message saying, 'I have something to say about your little boyfriend.' What am I supposed to think when all of this shows up at once?"

Brendan ran a hand over his face, frustration evident. "That DM? It’s just someone trying to stir up drama. You know how people are, especially when they see us happy. I don’t care about rumors, Amari. I care about you. And I’d never do anything to mess this up."

Amari’s expression softened slightly, but she still wasn’t completely convinced. "Why didn’t you just tell me about the meeting? Or about her? You know how the media loves to twist things."

"I should have told you," he admitted. "That’s on me. I didn’t think it was a big deal because it really wasn’t. But I see now how it looks from your side. I’m sorry for not keeping you in the loop."

“Why don’t I believe you B?” she asks him. 

Brendan's jaw tightened as he felt the weight of her words. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and pain. "Amari, I don’t know what else to say to make you believe me. I’ve told you the truth."

She pulled her hands away from his, crossing her arms defensively. "You’re saying all the right things, but something doesn’t sit right with me, B. I see these pictures, the blogs, and then that DM... It’s hard to just brush it off."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, okay? I get why this looks bad, but Amari, I’m not that guy. I’m not out here sneaking around or disrespecting you. You know me better than that."

"Do I?" she asked softly, her voice laced with uncertainty. "Because right now, I feel like I don’t. You didn’t even think to mention this girl or the meeting. It’s not about you cheating—it’s about you not being upfront."

Brendan leaned closer, his voice firm but calm. "I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important. She’s nobody to me, babe. I wasn’t hiding anything; it just didn’t cross my mind because it meant nothing."

Amari shook her head, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You say that now, but how am I supposed to feel when I’m blindsided like this? You know how much I hate being left in the dark, especially with how public our lives are."

"I know," Brendan said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "And I messed up by not thinking about how this would look or how it’d make you feel. That’s on me, and I’m sorry. But please, Amari, don’t doubt me like this. You’re the only one I care about."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any trace of deception. "Words are easy, Brendan. I need actions. I need you to show me that I’m the only one."

He reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. "Then let me prove it to you. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Just don’t shut me out, Amari. We’re better than this."

Her expression softened slightly, but the tension lingered. "You’ve got a lot of work to do, B. And I’m not going to just sweep this under the rug."

"I don’t want you to," he said firmly. "I’ll earn your trust back, Amari. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."

She nodded slowly, leaning back into the couch. "Alright, Brendan. But this is your last chance. No more slip-ups."

He kissed her forehead, his voice steady with determination. "You’ve got my word, babe. No more."

She sighs and walks around him. “You’re sleeping on the couch B.” 

Brendan closed his eyes and sighed deeply, clearly frustrated but knowing better than to argue. “Alright,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

Amari didn’t look back as she made her way toward their bedroom, her body language tense. She stopped in the doorway, her voice softer but still firm. “I just need time to think, Brendan. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Take all the time you need. But I’m not giving up on us, Amari. I’ll fix this.”

She didn’t respond, just closed the door behind her. Brendan ran a hand over his face and grabbed a blanket from the hall closet, settling onto the couch. As he stared up at the ceiling, the silence in the room was deafening, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

In the bedroom, Amari sat on the edge of the bed, her phone still in her hand. She stared at the screen, the messages and posts replaying in her mind. A part of her wanted to believe him, to trust that he wasn’t hiding anything. But another part couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in.

As much as she hated the idea of going to bed without him, she needed space. She needed clarity. And for now, distance felt like the only way to get it.

-

The next morning, Amari found herself at her favorite coffee shop, the aroma of fresh brews mingling with the early morning chatter of customers. She sat by the window, a hot latte in hand, her nails drumming absentmindedly on the small table. She hadn’t slept well, her mind replaying the events of the previous night.

Her phone buzzed on the table, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Jasmine.

Jasmine: You good? Saw the blogs... You need me to pull up?

Amari sighed, typing back quickly.

Amari: I’m fine. Just needed to clear my head. I’ll call you later.

She placed her phone face down and took another sip of her drink, her eyes drifting to the bustling street outside. The city seemed alive, unaware of her internal turmoil.

The bell above the door jingled as someone walked in, but she didn’t bother looking up until she heard a familiar voice.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

She turned and saw Brendan standing a few feet away, looking tired but determined. He was dressed in sweats, his hair slightly messy, and he held a paper bag in one hand.

Amari raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to say.

“I brought your favorite croissants,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Can I sit?”

She hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine.”

Brendan sat across from her, setting the bag down and meeting her eyes. “I know you’re upset, and I’m not here to make excuses. I just want to talk. To clear the air.”

Amari crossed her arms, her expression guarded. “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know who’s trying to stir things up, but I swear to you, Amari, I haven’t done anything to betray you. That girl in the photos? She approached me at the lounge, but there’s nothing between us. You know how people can twist things for clout.”

Amari studied his face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “Do you have proof, Brendan? Because I’m tired of feeling like I have to guess if you’re telling me the truth.”

He nodded and pulled his phone out, showing her texts and photos from that night. There was a clear gap between him and the woman in every picture, just as the second angle she’d seen had shown.

“I don’t want to lose you over something I didn’t do,” he said quietly. “You’re my world, Amari. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely. “You need to do better, Brendan. Be more aware of how things look. I’m not just some girl to you—I’m your girlfriend. Act like it.”

He reached across the table, his hand resting over hers. “I will. I promise.”

Amari sighed, squeezing his hand briefly before pulling away. “You’re not off the couch yet. But... I’ll think about it.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “That’s a start.”

"I'm still mad at you B." she says. Her facial expression not breaking. 

Brendan smirked, leaning his forehead against hers, his hands still gently cradling her face. “I know, baby,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “But I’m working on that. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Amari rolled her eyes, her lips twitching as if fighting back a smile. “You better,” she said, her tone firm but laced with affection. “Because right now, you’re on thin ice.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Thin ice, huh? So you’re saying there’s still a chance?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving his chest. “Brendan, you’re impossible.”

“I’m impossible, but I’m your impossible,” he countered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. “And I’ll stay on this thin ice as long as it takes to win you back.”

Amari sighed dramatically, but her hands rested on his chest, betraying her resolve. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He tilted her chin up, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Nah, I’m lucky you put up with me. But for real, Amari… I’m sorry. Whatever I gotta do to fix this, just say the word.”

She studied his face, searching for sincerity, and found it in the way his hazel eyes softened. “You can start by letting me win the next argument.”

Brendan chuckled. “Deal. But don’t push it, baby. I still have my pride.”

Amari laughed, finally letting the tension between them dissolve. “You’re lucky I like your pride, too.”

Over the next few days, Amari kept Brendan at arm's length. Her words were polite, but her tone lacked the warmth he was used to. She still let him hold her at night, but the lingering distance between them was undeniable. Brendan felt the sting of her withdrawal in every glance she avoided, in every moment she chose silence over conversation.

He knew he had to tread carefully, giving her space while showing he was serious about mending things.

On the third night, Brendan walked into their shared living room with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a small, handwritten note tucked inside. He placed them on the coffee table, where she was curled up with her laptop, working on something for school.

Amari glanced up briefly, her eyes flicking to the flowers before returning to her screen. “What’s that for?”

“Just because,” Brendan said softly, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I’m not rushing you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. Always.”

Amari’s lips twitched, but she didn’t say anything. She simply reached for the note and opened it.

Amari,

I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I’ll spend every day proving to you that you can trust me again. I don’t care how long it takes—I’m not going anywhere.

You mean everything to me. I love you more than anything, and I’m sorry for making you feel like that wasn’t true.

Yours always,B

Amari read the note twice, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. When she finally looked up, Brendan was watching her, his expression hopeful but guarded.

“You’re making it really hard to stay mad at you,” she said quietly, setting the note down.

Brendan leaned forward, his voice equally soft. “That’s the idea. I’ll keep trying until you can’t be mad anymore.”

Amari sighed, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Brendan grinned. “I’ll take it. Does this mean I’m off the couch?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer, hiding her smile behind the flowers as she leaned in to smell them. 

She glances up from the flowers and gives him a small nod. Brendan’s grin widened as soon as she nodded. He moved closer to her on the couch, his hand reaching out tentatively to rest on her knee. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice full of relief. “I promise I won’t take this second chance for granted.”

Amari let out a small laugh, her fingers playing with the petals of one of the flowers. “You’d better not. I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing her knee gently. “And I’ll make it up to you, every single day.”

She leaned back into the cushions, finally meeting his gaze. “You better. Because if you mess up again, I’ll have you out on the curb with no warning.”

Brendan chuckled, the tension in the room easing. “Duly noted. No curb life for me.”

Amari shook her head with a small smile, unable to stay completely stoic under his charm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re everything,” Brendan replied, leaning in and kissing her temple softly. He didn’t push for anything more, content just to be close to her again.

For the first time in days, Amari let herself relax against him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Brendan wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as the two of them sat quietly on the couch, the distance between them finally beginning to fade.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @notpradagurl7

[fairsweetlonging]

thinking about crowyuan saving liu qingge from his qi deviation and disappearing before he can fully wake up so he won't be recognized (him being a demon and all), but it causes liu qingge to accidentally mistake him for shen qingqiu.

there is a massive fight during the next peak lord meeting, with liu qingge accusing shen qingqiu of saving his life and not taking responsibility for it as if it's a war crime, while shen qingqiu keeps denying he had anything to do with it and if he had saved liu qingge, he'd be rubbing it in his face every chance he got.

it escalates and escalates until liu qingge, red with embarrassment and anger, points at shen qingqiu and says "you were cradling me in your arms!" and shen qingqiu explodes.

mu qingfang tries to calm them down by saying that perhaps liu qingge hallucinated, which is not uncommon for a qi deviation, but that sets off some of the other peak lords who now start teasing him for "dreaming of shen qingqiu coming to rescue him", and of course that only makes it worse.

liu qingge refuses to let it go and starts bringing shen qingqiu his victories to try and pay off his debt, because he is an honorable man and he will not let shen qingqiu get away with this!!

meanwhile shen yuan is watching it from a distance wondering whether he made it better or worse by stepping in.

[abessive-art]

The Penumbra Podcast

[karmicpunishment]

uh. so its like i blinked and its been a month whoops.... okay so i rotate tachihara and aya in my head constantly and I got reminded about this post of mine and how similar they are, and I used to joke that they felt like cousins to me and then I blinked and I had written 700 words of an au concept about it so !!!

here it is:

(extra bit before we go, i've named aya's older sister kaine (kanji for pleasant and sound), and made her born the same year as michizo) So!! mrs.tachihara and mrs.koda are sisters, and they both settled down in Yokohama. mrs.tachihara was the elder of the two, around 14 years older.

they were not very close, considering the age gap, but the families got closer after kaine and michizo were born around the same time. (shunzen babysat a lot).

after shunzen died he spent a lot of time at their house cause his parents were 'grieving' (they didn't want to see him). his parents thought aya's dad would be good a 'disciplining' him, as a respected police officer, especially after he started roaming with street kids. after aya was born, he spent a lot of time watching her alongside kaine, especially when mrs.koda became ill and eventually passed.

he was living with them nearly full time when the father started 'disciplining' aya in the same ways he did the other two, a little after she turned 5 and the others turned 14. they wanted to run away and take her with them, but they had no money and no connections and would be running away from a well connected police officer, so it was clear they needed to plan. he started taking jobs using his abilities, eventually leading to the vault job and his induction into the hunting dogs.

he was forced to cut contact with his family entirely, but negotiated to be able to send money to them discretely. when kaine died a few years later, he wasn't allowed to go to the funeral (he did send a bouquet of purple hyacinths) or talk to aya. the money now goes into a fund for when aya reaches the age of majority.

he also set up flags on their names so he can keep tabs on aya and her dad on the government side. port mafia wise, he keeps his ears open for any word, especially whenever they meet with any dirty cops on their payroll (the uncle, surprisingly, is not one of them)

the first time he hears aya's name since he went undercover is after the subway bombing where she met kunikida. he's simultaneously horrified and endeared by how much his baby cousin has grown (all grown up and fighting terrorists!). he doesn't want to endanger her, or risk his cover, but he is Not happy about her involvement and the fact that a ten year old was all alone during the day like this.

he wants to do something, but while he could probably get her removed from her fathers custody if he begged the commander for help, or did jouno some favors, he's in no position to adopt or foster her. (he is NOT risking her getting involved in the port mafia)

on aya's side of things, she only vaguely remembers michizo herself. he disappeared when she was 6~ and her sister died only a couple years later. the two are a tanged mix of comfort in her memories, though she's never compared to michizo like she is with her sister. kaine told her stories about michizo when she could, a mix of sadness, anger and fondness in her tone every time. those two were very close. she saved the only picture in their house with him in it, from ayas first birthday, now hidden under her bed.

for awhile, aya thought he died too and no one wanted to tell her about it, based on the picture in their family shrine, but later realized that was shunzen, who she never got to meet. she's kind of pissed at michizo for leaving and has no idea why he left or where he could've gone and there's no one left for her to ask: kaine died before she was old enough for the truth (that he disappeared on a job making money to save them), her dad is an absolute no on the subject, and the rare visits with her aunt and uncle...are better left unsaid.

tachihara decides to leave an anonymous tip at the agency (written to the blonde glasses guy) about ayas home situation and then

well i haven't written what comes after so....

anyone want to hear my tachihara and aya cousin au

[orcelito]

Two packages arrived today, so I have a Wealth of new things........

First being........

THE HIM...... Wolfwood plush from @ruporas !!!!

His accessories are all SO cute. He's surprisingly firm to the touch, and his hair is so SO soft... a handsome little lad.... I love him.......

He lives here now with my teru Vash and his friend, Sakura

He came with such lovely extras....... every part of this is so cute.... 😭😭😭 & the extra drawing....... 🥺🥺🥺🥺 oughhhhhh. I Love it.

I'm very much looking forward to the Vash coming out in a few months (I think??) Hehehehe

AND I ALSO GOT..... a fuckin HAUL from @spookynest. Didn't realize how much I ordered until it was in front of me, whoops hflshxmsnd

STICKERS!!!!!! Some freebies, also the card thing on the right that's a thank you card, but he's so handsome... might just put him up on my wall too.... the sparkle stickers r so shiny....... no idea where I want to put them (Sticker Paralysis....) but I enjoy having them either way heheh

And some Posters.......

FMA and CR posters bc they look so good!!! (I haven't actually watched campaign 1 yet but shhhh I know I'll love the twins so I got it anyways 😂) and these trigun posters that I LOVE..........

And then my personal favorite thing from this package.....

This poster 😭😭😭😭😭 bc Wolfwood looks so in love it punches me in the heart. Aughhhh😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[mobius-m-mobius]

#letting time pass

Loki S2 (2023) // Good Omens S2 (2023)

[1000dactyls]

a random assortment of httyd drawings i’ve collected in the past couple of weeks…. B) maggotfig is my httyd oc who is a very good viking boy who dreams of not very viking appropriate things, like what the best kenning for a zippleback’s teeth might be. his right eye is covered because it causes him a lot of pain and is hyper-sensitive when exposed to light, leading to a lot of migraines. it’s a good thing gormworm (or “gormy”) guards his blindspot…