#for me personally that made it challenging enough to be engaging but i'm

[moonsidesong]

finished the last palette! my final thoughts are that i enjoyed side order a lot. i don't think it was nearly as good as octo expansion but i....... think it would be very difficult to top octo expansion. i wanna go back in to complete all the color chips and buy all the items and upgrades, but i think ill take a break from that for now.

like a lot of people, i wish there was more to the story, and i really wish the final palette felt like more of a real finale, but off the hook got more screen time and acht is a really cool character so i dont REALLY have too much to complain about lol.

the music and sounds are AWESOME and probably my favorite part of the whole thing. i really recommend playing with headphones, at least for some of it. it's really great there's already so many high quality game rips floating around, but i really really can't wait for the eventual CD to releaseeeeee 😭😭😭😭 i want that music in my HOUSE

overall i had fun! solid experience. except for when i had to use the splatana stamper i really really really don't like using the splatana stamper just in general. that's not really a criticism so much as it is i just kind of hate when that weapon is in my little octo hands

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[brynn-lear]

Sugar Pills (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Questionable Overview: You're getting real tired of Dottore's theatrics. Which is a great shame, considering how it's only now that Capitano learns the value of surface acting and masking. (from my series: #Capitano's So-Called Liability)

CW/Tags: there is no "real" age gaps since this is a Howl's Moving Castle scenario, slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, mild violence. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your mental health first, you matter.

Prev || Next

When coming up with a proposal, you've learned that it's best to approach a harbinger when they're in the middle of an arms race. It's been ages since you've applied this knowledge, but luckily, dusting off memories of yesteryears isn't challenging.

"Can't even spare me a proper welcome?" You yawned, dropping a beaten and dead fatuus just inches away from an unforgettable metal-laced shoe. The sound of their empty vision clunked on the hard floor. "I might not be as much in the spotlight these days, dear, but isn't it good manners to greet your elders properly when they visit?"

The aforementioned shoe brushed the body away. "Hah. You make a terrible habit of flaunting that cosmetic age of yours."

And yet, there you stood, glaring with a smug head up high. No ordinaire can don the demeanor you flaunt in front of the second-ranked harbinger. You'll always keep the cloak-and-dagger act. Dramatics are second nature to those who earn their keep through blood money. You only saw it right to greet him with a more appropriate entrance. Bold and unfaltering in resolve.

"And you have a great habit of looking younger with each passing day," you feigned a chirpy tone. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Behind a crow's mask, crimson eyes bore holes into your very being.

Since you received that "birthday present" from him, he had sent out men to secretly nag you behind the Captain's back. They ask you why you haven't taken the medicine at best and attempt to drug you at worst. This rendezvous had been going on for weeks. Enough times that could manifest anger and murderous intent out of you until it did.

After reaching the limit of your patience, you murdered the last person to spike your perfectly fine water, took his vision and portable waypoint, and teleported to his master harbinger's base. Too much work just to get someone to stop pestering you.

The feeling is mutual. Il Dottore— the last of his perspective— also found your presence troublesome.

The second-ranked harbinger spent his "free" time in a painfully bright, pale room. He likes to dub this phase a "recovery state." Typically, there would be plenty of "him" to go around— but striking a deal for a gnosis always beckons a great deal of self-sacrifice. Or self-sacrifice-s. 

Hence why you pushed to visit him this instance. Despite his placid demeanor, you're confident he's eager to prove that there's a method to his madness. Oneself is always the greatest competitor. 

A proper arms race. 

"You know very well that I do not take youth as a compliment," he retorted, though his tone was considerably friendly. He made repeated tapping motions on his armchair, almost impatiently. "What trivial matter have you dared to interrupt my brainstorming session with? Speak now— I'll let you know I'm engaged with matters of greater significance."

"I've done my due diligence of personally replying to your last letter." You glared down at your last victim. "Consider this my thanks."

Without tearing your gaze away, you fished the medicine from your coat and threw it at his chest with all your might. The bottle shattered on the floor.

Greatly "offended" by your rude antics, Dottore defeatedly abandoned his scrawls and turned to properly look at you.

"You decided to skip the pills. How delightfully reckless of you, Granny (Y/n)." He sardonically smiled.

At least he has the decency to name you correctly.

You rolled your eyes as you approached. Once you were just a foot away, you stabbed the corpse's head once more with your cane's pointed base— the force harsh enough to splatter the livor mortis flesh and brain matter on the floor of his beloved laboratory.

What an unnecessarily extreme scene, befitting of your old title.

"I grow tired of your games, Zandik." You spat back. "Must you constantly send your men to make futile attempts to lace my food with your de-aging concoction? I don't appreciate discarding their bodies— much less some perfectly fine meals."

If Capitano were here, he would've made a vague comment about how your value on human life is concerning.

But he doesn't have to know about this interaction.

"You complain about my work, yet I vaguely recall an era in your life in which you'd routinely wake up screaming like a rooster in the morning." Dottore shrugged and pointed to himself. "And who provided you with a cure-all for those night terrors? Go on. I would be enthused to know."

You crossed your arms. The jaded look in your eyes heightened his interest. Hence, Dottore stood up, his footsteps crunching the shattered glass strewn about.

"Let me wager a proper hypothesis for this ...irrational behavior. A possible psychological or existential leaning toward death may be at the root of the patient's ongoing resistance to the recommended treatment." He craned his head like a bird inspecting its prey. "In simpler terms for meager minds like yours to understand: you're not accepting my charity since you wish to die. Is that right?" 

Dottore is a reasonable man. Disarmingly charming, even.

This particular segment just hates you.

You smiled back, returning the same malice.

"Who knows?" You tapped the beak of his mask. "Doesn't matter. I didn't come here to get psycho-analyzed. I came here because I want to strike a deal."

Dottore paused.

"I had a prediction that you would ensnare me with a gambit. No small wonder that Omega has found you a captivating individual, (Y/n)."

Many miss the fact that the good Doctor has a "seductive" air about him. He has a charisma that people will either dismiss in fear or fall victim to. You're part of the secret third group— the coworkers immune to his antics.

"Yes, well, I do pride myself on hosting the best picnics by the meadows of Ardravi Valley." You spoke, voice oozing with the same playful banter you once reserved for his deceased copy. "I've got no abundance in lifespan like you. I'd dare say I'm selling myself at a very limited-time offer."

However, this Dottore was not the one you befriended. This was his murderer.

"Playing the card of wisdom with that appearance may fool the world, but you can't dissuade me." Dottore clicked his tongue. "Are you mimicking Sohreh?"

What a surprisingly plain question.

You shrugged. "Am I?"

Feigning impassivity while he could, the Doctor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Talk."

"I've only one wish, which is for you to stop being such a nuisance." You scoffed. "What can I do to get you to stop trying to make me your side experiment, Doctor?"

Intuition rarely fails you. You knew that this was a matter that could be reasoned with. The problem is that you needed to figure out what your bargaining chip would be. But by the look on his face, he had already sorted that out minutes, maybe even months, before you arrived.

His hand that once hovered on your shoulder slowly snaked towards your neck.

"I have a proposal," Dottore spoke softly.

You hardened your expression. "Spill."

"I can assist you in experiencing that honorable death you craved so much— at the right time and place." Using his thumb, he applied mild pressure against your throat. "However, I'll need you to befriend the upcoming tourists in Natlan."

You blinked.

… What a strange request.

"Befriend… The tourists?" You grabbed his intrusive hand, yanking it away. "What are you on about?"

"Under favorable circumstances, I would have had a copy extract these, but the old conventional tools are unavailable."

"But why?" You raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I just can't quite wrap my head around why this is the gamble you're betting your chips on—"

"And that is precisely why The Tsaritsa dubbed you La Ruffiana and not a respectable title," Dottore smirked, chuckling lowly. "Hence, I'll gladly elucidate you with brief guide questions in a language you're sure to comprehend."

"I'd rather we both save time by revealing the answer, pronto."

Since you had forgotten to let go of his wrist, he used your grip to pull you closer to him.

"Tell me, (Y/n), during the Sumeru fiasco…" With faces just inches away from each other, he tilted and teased your ear with his breath. "Who, indeed, served as the paramount subject in my quest to engineer a being that transcends even the might of the archons?"

… Who?

You placed a hand on his chin to create a respectable distance. "Child, I really hate to say this, but the world doesn't just spin around you and your little experiments. I wouldn't know a thing about that poor, nameless puppet you're on about. But if I had to take a wild guess, you're talking about that man you went and turned into a sorry excuse for an All-Knowing God, aren't you?"

Dottore grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

"I perceive that our memories from that period have been tampered with. Nevertheless, your hypothesis remains merely superficial. There exists an individual whom I regard as the genuine subject of this experiment. Would you toss one last conjecture?"

…

You let out a strangled air, unable to properly articulate your disbelief.

It's the traveler. Of course, it's her.

Dottore aspires to transform humans into gods, yet his attempts have thus far been in vain. Save for one young woman who sought refuge in both Mondstadt and Sumeru, all subjects have perished during testing. In your days as a harbinger, you've watched others toil over the vulneraries and prosthetics the Doctor would jam into them. Your visit to certain hospitals by the desert is your testimony to his apathy. He is driven by relentless curiosity, never pausing for the ethical implications of his research, but would spend hours on the feasibility of his experiments.

You were relieved when you heard he used an inorganic lifeform in his last experiment. But if that was a mere dud, then…

"Don't tell me— all this time, your real goal revolved around how the traveler could ascend into Godhood?" You gawked. "So whatever that puppet was, is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy in failure? Your experiments in blasphemy will always find new ways to make me utterly sick."

You flinched as Dottore caressed your cheek. It wasn't the contact that shocked you.

It was the respect in his eyes.

"Hmm... About a year ago, you'd make conscious efforts to bite your tongue. I must remark that I am fascinated with the concerning spike of confidence your senile age brings."

"Things change." You mocked him. "You should try growing older. About a year ago, I wouldn't have this deal with you, too."

With that, the verbal contract was set into motion.

"We'll keep in touch."

He pulled away.

You scoffed. "If I believed in Celestia, I would've prayed you'd become a decent person."

"How unfortunate that you'll need a stronger God to achieve that ambition," Dottore laughed. "And materializing a stronger God is precisely part of my current objectives."

This heretic.

"I see now why you and Capitano are far too different to be colleagues."

You glared.

"Have your glory. You may receive everything— the ego in victory— the spoils of war. Celestia may even watch you steal the blessings of ascension. But you have no honor. You live with no happiness."

You grumbled while you walked away. The erratic sound of your cane reflected the rhythm of your anger and disgust. Before you left, you gave him one high note to end on.

"You dance with no music."

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Dottore quickly returned to his near-incoherent scrawling.

"I'd rather be a fool who performs for no one," he grinned, his stomach tucking in from stifled laughter. "Than a blabbering grandmother scared of sugar pills."

"(Y/N)!!!"

Upon your supposedly quiet return to the inn, you were greeted by a pair of large hands squeezing your cheeks with trembling worry.

"I told you to call me Granny—"

"Where have you been?!" He tilted your head, inspecting for wounds like an incompetent father. His strength would usually cause grief, but you've grown used to this. It's a sensation that's hard to hate.

His hands are rough but not unkind.

"When I awoke, I realized you were not in your room." He spoke, evident that he was reeling himself from rambling. Been a long while since you saw his long and gorgeous hair this messy. "Had I not instructed you not to wander alone without one of our men at your side."

The inn's staff whispered among themselves while his men stiffly avoided gazing at you two. You cringe at everyone's bloodshot eyes. There's more room to pity the Natlan locals— they didn't ask to be involved. Capitano ordered a search party this late on your behalf when there was zero need for it. The attention was getting embarrassing.

You should've known that he'd notice your absence.

Damn it. You were barely gone for half an hour.

"Steel yourself, child. I don't need your men to coddle me." Months have passed, and he has yet to accept that you do not have a respectable position as a personal assistant. "I can wander around Natlan as safe as I please, kid. Are you seriously doubting my strength?"

That dirty tactic sobered him up.

"You know that isn't so." Capitano sighed, letting you go. "I know you're plenty capable, however..."

"Need I remind you that before the incident, I was originally the Harbinger tasked with retrieving the pyro gnosis?" You shook your head, feigning disappointment. "You should know by now that I've studied this place's typography and wildlife. No encounter could shock and harm me— even with these old bones."

"It's precisely why I worry over you," Capitano glared slightly. "With your curse, you could've been marked by foes out there."

"I didn't go anywhere far. I was just sightseeing."

"That explanation doesn't wash. I saw the glow of a portable waypoint when you came back."

… How observant. That's the first ranked harbinger for ya, you supposed.

"Okay, maybe I went home for a bit, so what?" You pouted. "It's a bit too warm in here for my liking."

The inn's staff immediately froze up.

"N-Not that it's bad, of course!" You laughed nervously. Ah, shit, let's not involve them. "It's my fault 'cause I didn't raise that concern with them. Old ladies such as myself are so stubborn. Hmm, hmm!"

Gradually, Capitano relaxed.

"I understand. At least, I'll choose to understand your fib for now."

"Not quite out of the cage yet, am I?" You joked.

"Not at all." Capitano exhaled softly, a hand barely covering his gentle smile. His voice made it painfully apparent that you're off the hook.

He's such a terrible liar.

Before you could comment on this, Capitano reached out his hand.

"Come with me." He wagged his fingers towards him, beckoning you to come closer. "Let's continue our conversation somewhere private."

Out of the 11 harbingers and those who had come and gone, you know Capitano the most.

"I didn't realize Natlan nights can be cold." You spoke thoughtlessly.

He stared at you blankly. "Cold enough to prevent you from running back home, clearly."

"Ah."

And likewise, he knows you best as well.

You digressed in an instant. "Why did you bring me here, Little Captain?"

You stood by a cliff, staring at the quiet night in the humble town. There's a noticeable increase of guards on patrol since the Fatui arrived in Natlan, but with Capitano as the lead, you saw no reason for their alarm. Obviously, Capitano didn't bring you here to make that observation. Judging from how his stare is on the ground and not the beautiful sight, public perception is pushed at the back of his mind.

"Your cane…" He whispered.

"What about it?"

"You forgot to wash the blood away."

Inspecting the cane without lifting it, you realize what he meant.

"Oh."

"Who was it?" His voice sounded a bit more stern.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Who was what?"

There was a shift in the air.

"Who attacked you?"

…

You laughed uncontrollably.

"W-What?! Pfft— puh-lease! No one attacked me." You poked his helmet. He stared you down, unamused. "No-bo-dy."

Capitano has yet to let his anger go. He spoke steadily, but he wasn't fooling you. "I'll ask once more: who attacked you?"

"Don't tell me your memory is worse than this old lady's," you clicked your tongue. "I just told you, it's nobody."

Capitano shifted his foot down slightly. "Elena reported that you were assaulting a fatuus with your cane in an isolated dining area."

Curses. You thought you were alone. To be caught by Elena, of all people? Your senses must be dulling.

"Well, one of your men— I suppose— was disrespecting their elders."

"I ordered a headcount. None of my men have gone missing." Capitano crossed his arms. "Besides, they know better than aggravating my most prized assistant."

Should've known that lie won't fly.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't one of your men." Obviously it was Dottore's, but you bit your tongue. "But you should know I'm a polarizing figure in the Fatui. I heard someone say that getting rid of me is a noble act cause they'd be removing your right from employing an absolute loser."

"(Y/n), where did you get those ideas?"

Honestly? Straight out of your 'lovely' imagination. If not inspired by Pantalone's past remarks as well— just cruder.

It’s almost commendable how easy it is to assume everyone is out to get you. The work environment certainly helps. A strange grin or remark is sufficient to validate any doubts. Probably illogical for you to live life this way. You're aware enough that not every whisper is about you and that not every grin hides some hidden agenda, yet the uncertainties still seep in so effortlessly that it almost seems like breathing.

You've yet to find someone who will prove your inherent distrust wrong. That body you hurled at Dottore earlier was no exception.

"Whoever attacked me doesn't matter; I got rid of them."

"I know you did. I don't reserve any doubt whatsoever. That is not the issue at hand." Capitano shook his head, his last words hiding a slight growl. "What I am perturbed by is how you had hidden this from me."

Your eyes widened.

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me, Capitano." You fumbled. "It was genuinely not as big as you think it is. A traitor was in the mist, and I took care of it."

"You were targeted, (Y/n)," Capitano said, nearly whispering as he gently took your hands. No matter how callous he was or how much his skin resembled etched maps, they held yours with great care.

His eyelids drooped slightly, hiding unspoken grief. "You were attacked when I made an oath that I would protect you while you are under my care..."

Capitano's tone softened further, almost withdrawn from hurt.

"I should have been there..."

You've never been one to immediately process emotions in a snap. When you and Capitano share ideas, theories intersect like constellations on Teyvat nights. But that look in his eye? You can't read what he's thinking.

"Why do you fret over it, dearie? Death is but a doorbell away for me." You hummed with a wide smile. "I'll be claimed soon enough. Maybe tonight might even be the night. Oh, honey, it's no skin off the Tsaritsa's back if an old gal like me bites the dust."

…

You have a feeling you said the worst thing imaginable at that moment.

…

Capitano said nothing.

In fact, you'd wager that was on purpose.

There's a glint in his eye. A look that you couldn't place— a dangerous thought you can't hear. It ringed endlessly in his ears, and the slight tremor in his fingertips proved it. His blue eyes stared straight into your soul.

A revelation. An epiphany. A newfound raison d'etre that he refused to let anyone know— you specifically.

Something about him drastically changed.

But that look vanished in an instant.

Capitano's mouth curled upward.

The smile did not reach his eyes. 

"I prefer if it's kind sleep who takes you tonight," Capitano muttered. "Death is far too early for a woman like you."

"A woman like me?" You chuckled. "You meant grandmother, right? And what do you mean by that?"

"A woman like you deserves all the time in the world, not to be taken prematurely. Your spirit is far too bright to be dimmed so soon." He took off his cloak. "Because a woman like you is a woman loved by many."

Capitano wrapped his cloak around you before you realized it. As you looked down, you noticed how much larger his frame was than yours. The cloak reached the floor when you donned it. Though it was night, the cologne he put on reminded you of sun-drenched clothes and steel— but it's possible that this was just Capitano's natural scent.

"I should add cloaks as an interest for your late birthday present." You could practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "It suits you."

Something about the way he sounded was way off now.

The weariness from your conversations with Dottore seemingly washed away. You grabbed a fistful of the cloak and raised it. "I think every tailor in Teyvat would beg to differ."

Capitano chuckled. "Respectfully, they wouldn't know any better."

"And you do?" You raised an eyebrow, but that grin on your face is too difficult to wipe off. "I don't think you know me well, little Captain."

You continued.

"Anyone can learn to like me, but to love me…"

Is devastating.

You trailed off, eyes back on the quiet streets. You've always admired those who teased on the edge of retirement and eternal sleep, their bravery surpassing the young's. They act on reckless abandon, unburdened by the opinions of others. Alice saw this in you, and she knew— deep in her heart— that she'd be more than willing to help you embrace that freedom in whatever form that may take.

Since you became a "grandmother", seemingly everything and nothing has changed. You've pushed away those who pretended to care, only to find that no soul can stand to be with you. Maybe it was a glorious boon or just as the witch said— a desperate cry for help, nothing more. The experience so far taught you things you already knew you hated about yourself that you wondered if this were all for the sake of mastery. Have you destroyed yourself for nothing? Who knows. But you'll continue to take solace that maybe, just maybe, death may end the loneliness you've endured for so long.

But if you so badly chase for death…

"████████."

You looked at him.

"Can I ask for a favor?"

You're going to do it right.

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa

[writers-potion]

Describing Food in Writing

I love food. And drinks.

When I think of the HP series, I recall the feasts. Treacle tarts and puddings. Butterbeer. Food trolley on the train and chocolate frogs in the Gryffindor common room.

Foods helps readers engage with the story, so it's good to know how to describe them.

Just one Adjective

There's really no need to go overboard with how a particular food tastes. If it's something that your readers are already familiar with, just add in a small detail.

Are the breakfast eggs yellow or white, clumpy or fluffy? Salty or bland? Grainy or silky?

Just one adjective/detail is enough.

Think of the Character

Take note of each character's palate while you describe. Especially if you're writing in 1st person POV.

Someone in your cast may be a culinary artist and another content with spray cheese.

Food descriptions can reveal a lot about character's personality and lifestyle.

Watch Food Shows

Master Chef. The Great British Baking Show. Aesthetic character baking channel on YouTube.

Food shows usually have a section where they assess/review the food made, which might be helpful.

Recently, I've noticed that 1-minute food reviewers on YT Shorts are pretty good at graphic yet succinct taste descriptions!

Ratatouille

I'm not kidding!

If you ever want to get into the mind of someone who is passionate about food, or need inspiration yourself - check this movie out.

Just watching Remy's passion and the magic of the culinary arts will boost your writer soul with inspiration (or something like it, anyway).

Experience Restaurants

The best research of all is probably experience, so the next time you eat a meal, challenge your palate.

Think about how it looks, tastes, and feels in you mouth.

If possible, try dishes your characters would eat and discern what they would detect. What elements of the disk would your character like?

Some Food Adjectives

Tangy Creamy Crispy Tender Juicy Exquisite Luscious Gourmet Wholesome Delectable Risk Zesty Succulent

Crunchy Greasy Gooey Tart Smoky Savory Marinated Meaty Moist Battered Dainty Homestyle Fudgy

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.75)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Getting you home and into the nest proves to be a bit more of a challenge.

Tags: forced caretaking, feral omega's, m/c acts a little violent at the beginning, biting, blood, brief injury, kinda inspection kink if you squint, pre-heat, nudity, cramps, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega, possessive behavior, omegaspace, yoongi has slight self-esteem issues, manhandling,

W/c: 8.6k+

A/n: i feel guilty because i had to snip this chapter in half because there was simply too much stuff going on in my life at the moment. on the bright side i will try to get the second part out in one week, and i will also be very drunk at a engagement party when this is posted <3 gotta love that for me. in all honesty although it says 5pm...it will probably be posted a little earlier in the day so...be aware!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

"I don't think her fingers are broken, fuck- do you think Jin would let me take her to the hospital?"

"You just got home Joonie-" Tae whines while Jimin shakes his head, handing over the gauze for Namjoon to wrap it.

"I know but-"

Instead of wiggling your fingers, you flick water in Namjoon's direction. It hits his face with an audible plop. The pack alpha flinches.

The rest of them just stare at you.

Namjoon wipes the water off of his face, slow and intentionally with every movement of his body. No one breathes and no one moves. You sense Namjoon's composure is about to slip. Good- you really want it too.

"See! Pups fine!” You flick water at Namjoon again. Grinning, dopy and so high on heat hormones that you think it is funny how his jaw rolls. Your hand isn't broken even if your knuckles are a little scraped up. Really- you'll be fine. They don't need to act like you're dying.

You try to do it again but Jimin grabs both of your wrists, holding you still. "That is the opposite of helpful." Tae snaps.

"Don't yell at me. I'm too tiny." You say, your voice that. Small.

Namjoon whips his hands on a kitchen cloth slowly. Staring you down without saying anything.

Yoongi runs his teeth over the back of your throat, hard enough that you feel it. He's not sure why you need the release of violence before your heat begins, but you do. Whatever instinct is currently making you act like a brat needs to come out one way or another.

Yoongi would rather it be now than when you're actually in heat.

Jimin and Yoongi keep you in one place as you try to lunge for Namjoon. You barely even jerk in their firm hold. Strong as they are. every one of them has more than half a foot on you, you'd never stand a chance really. Jimin holds you effortlessly- without even breaking a sweat. muscles and veins in his arms hardly flexing.

You want to bite him, teeth and gums aching for it. To feel the give of your alpha's under your teeth, under your claws. To bite and nip and see what he's made of.

It's like Namjoon can see the ache rocking through you, the violence of it in the honey tremble of your body. He cups your face so tenderly, and you almost want to hiss at him. Lip lifting in a soundless snarl. His voice is a gentle hush, a tone you are intimately familiar with.

it's the same tone of voice that has preceded every punishment and scolding you've ever received from the pack alpha. Every time he's ever coaxed you to take his knot (icky) or an orgasm (less icky). As he drags you close and speaks to you. Soft but firm. Gentle but unyielding.

"You are allowed to be needy, you are allowed to be small. You are allowed to need everything and anything and I will personally make sure that each one of those needs are fulfilled."

You snap your teeth at him, trying to bite his hand. He only just gets away. Your teeth brushing his knuckles playfully. You giggle, behind you, Yoongi snorts.

Instantly the pack hold your face, your jaw, not jimin but your mate and tae. Holding your mouth open. Fingers digging into your lower lip. Making your lips push out. You push at them but they hold you still. saliva pooling around a whine as you try to gnash your teeth again but are unsuccessful.

"Cute drooly puppy, so messy. what are we to do with you?" Tae's voice is a lethal purr.

You like it. You like feeling your alpha's strength, your mate's strength. Where they begin and you end. You want to test it want to make sure they can protect you.

For what? You can't say. You think it might have something to do with the terrible sensitivity between your thighs, the bleeding hot need slowly gripping you, a distant storm rumbling. But you're not sure.

"You need to make sure we're capable of protecting you through your heat? is that it pup?"

You whine, needy around Namjoon's fingers.

Tae keeps your mouth open and Namjoon taps his finger against your tongue, your lips, your teeth. Does he like how sharp they are? They feel awfully sharp in your mouth. Good omega, see? You want to tell him. Strong like you. Not a pup.

You don't whine and recoil the way an alpha would at being poked and prodded at. You fight one moment then go pliant the next. Letting him look, letting him touch and pinch your tongue between his fingers, loling it out and making it cute. Tears building at the corner of your eyes by how frustrated you feel, how much you want.

Tae grips your jaw, turning you this way and that, jimin's claws tangle with yours. yoongi digs his teeth into your scent gland, going sweeter and sweeter and sweeter with every moment.

Tae coo's and you hiss at her- or try too. Namjoon's finger pressing against your tongue stops you from doing anything but whine. Saliva pooling to the point where it almost drips, a little gross, but Namjoon's smile is darker, wickeder.

Namjoon strokes your tongue once, twice, and then a third time. Near your gag reflex but just barely. If you want to act like a disobedient pup, he's going to make you work for it.

You are the lowest ranking packmate, you can't expect your anger to be anything remarkable. they all coo at you- at your innocent imitation of your alpha's behavior.

Jimin smiles. agreeing, flashing his teeth at you that actually are sharp- actually could bite. you like them, like him. jimin holds you so well- so firmly you feel it in the small bones of your wrists. any other time you'd say it was uncomfortable, but it makes you leak slick, just a little. you know they can smell it.

"Cute little omega, acting like an alpha." Namjoon's thigh is between your legs, and you try and grind down on it. He stops you, holding your hips firm. You can't move more than a millimeter without one of them stopping you.

"No, none of that pup. If you want it you'll ask nicely, and you'll ask Jinnie first. I know you can be good."

But you don't want to be good, you want to fight.

~-~

Coming Saturday September 28th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[campgender]

Whenever a player safewords, this is an occasion for mutual support. We understand that nobody safewords from a happy place, and that all of our egos feel frail and kind of runty when we need to back out of a scene. It is completely unethical to respond with scorn or ridicule to a person who has safeworded: S/M is not a competition, we are not playing against each other.

As tops, we have noticed that if we are having a good time and our bottom safewords, our initial feelings may not be happy. Whaddaya mean you don't like that? I do all this work and you don't appreciate it? I'm hot for being in control and you want me to stop? We have felt real anger and felt challenged in our top role... and, on a deeper level, we have felt put down, hurt and rejected. It is okay to have these feelings. It is not okay to act on them. Take three deep breaths and everybody start taking care of each other.

Sometimes bottoms get so deeply engaged in a scene that they fail to safeword, or forget, or so profoundly believe in the fantasy that it doesn't occur to them: many of the techniques we play with, like interrogation, function in the real world to undermine volition. Dossie remembers a scene in which a top offered her a choice of something or other: "I felt very confused. Some distant part of me vaguely remembered having made choices, but the response from my state of consciousness at that time was, Choose? I am not a thing that chooses." So then what is the top's responsibility?

If a bottom does not safeword and you don't pick up on what's going on, and this will happen if you play long enough and well enough, there is no blame. However, it is still your responsibility to monitor for physical safety as best you can. As ethical tops we make a commitment to never knowingly harm our bottoms. To this end we check in regularly to make sure that things are going the way we think they are, and we constantly monitor the physical and emotional safety of our bottoms. If a bottom is beyond safewording, and you as the top feel unsure about how far you should go, it is your responsibility to slow down or stop the scene and get into communication with the bottom to make sure you have informed consent. If you have to bring the bottom back into reality to do this, please remember that you helped get them into that altered state in the first place, so presumably you can help get them back there again as soon as you are sure of what's going on.

And just because someone safeworded doesn't mean that the scene has to be over. There may be times when the problem that brought either of you to safeword is so overwhelming that carrying on doesn't feel like the right thing right now - but most often we find that after we've dealt with whatever the difficulty is, we're still terrifically turned on, with the added bonus of a shared intimacy.

from The New Topping Book (2003) by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy

(note: the authors use ‘top’ & ‘bottom’ in the historical S/M sense, meaning ‘person performing the act’ & ‘person receiving the act’; the act in question is not necessarily penetration.)

[wonyowonyo]

Realize (J. Wonyoung X M! Reader)

Hello, Wonyo_Wonyo here. I've came back from the depths of the pitiful reality, and returned with a new oneshot. Kinda lost my touch though, but I hope you all enjoy this one.I'll probably try to drop more stories soon, If I get the motivation to do it. Feel free to drop some suggestions too.

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3RD PERSON POV

Y/N had always been captivated by Wonyoung. Her elegance, her wit, the way she carried herself—it was all mesmerizing. From the moment he first saw her at the university's annual charity gala, he knew he had to get to know her better. She was wearing a stunning silver dress that made her stand out from the crowd, her long, dark hair cascading down her back in soft waves. She moved with a grace and confidence that drew everyone's attention, but it was the kindness in her eyes when she spoke to others that truly caught Y/N's heart.

The first time they spoke was during one of their shared classes. Y/N mustered up the courage to approach her after a particularly challenging lecture on quantum mechanics. As he gathered his books and steeled himself for rejection, he noticed Wonyoung struggling to fit her notes into her already overflowing bag. He saw his chance and seized it.

"Hey, do you need some help with that?" Y/N asked, offering her a friendly smile.

Wonyoung looked up, surprise flashing in her eyes before she returned his smile. "Oh, thank you. That would be great. My bag seems to have a mind of its own."

Y/N chuckled and helped her organize her things. As they walked out of the lecture hall together, they found themselves engaged in a lively conversation about the class. Wonyoung was not only beautiful but also incredibly intelligent. She had a way of explaining complex concepts that made them seem almost simple.

"Quantum mechanics is a nightmare," Y/N said, shaking his head. "I don't know how you make it look so easy."

Wonyoung laughed, a light, melodic sound. "It's not easy, trust me. I just enjoy the challenge."

From that day on, Y/N made it a point to be around her as much as possible. He offered to study together, grabbed coffee after classes, and even joined the same student clubs. Wonyoung seemed to enjoy his company, always smiling when she saw him and engaging in their conversations with genuine interest.

However, every time Y/N tried to take things to the next level, she would pull back just enough to keep him at arm's length. She would thank him for the flowers he sent with a sweet message but never agree to a date. He'd ask her out, and she'd say she was busy but then give him a lingering look that kept his hopes up. It was a dance that went on for months, with Y/N pouring his heart into every gesture and Wonyoung playing hard to get.

One particularly frustrating evening, Y/N decided to make a grand gesture. He had learned that Wonyoung loved classical music, so he managed to get two tickets to a highly sought-after concert in town. Nervously, he approached her after class.

"Wonyoung, I know you're busy, but I got us tickets to the Philharmonic concert this Friday. I thought it would be something you'd enjoy," Y/N said, hope shining in his eyes.

Wonyoung's expression softened, and for a moment, Y/N thought she would say yes. But then, her smile faltered. "Oh, Y/N, that's so sweet of you, but I already have plans with some friends. I'm really sorry."

Y/N's heart sank. "No worries. Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," Wonyoung replied, her tone unconvincing.

Y/N's initial attempts to win Wonyoung's heart were met with mixed signals that left him in a constant state of hope and frustration. He decided to take a more direct approach and invited her to a popular café on campus known for its cozy atmosphere and delicious pastries.

"Wonyoung, I was thinking we could grab some coffee after class. There's a new café that opened up, and I hear their pastries are amazing," Y/N suggested, his voice filled with optimism.

Wonyoung's eyes twinkled with interest, but her response was hesitant. "That sounds nice, but I already have plans with my study group. Maybe another time?"

Y/N's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Sure, another time then."

Despite the setbacks, Y/N refused to give up. He learned that Wonyoung loved literature, so he spent hours in the library researching her favorite authors and genres. One day, he surprised her with a beautifully bound copy of a classic novel she had mentioned in passing.

"I thought you might like this," Y/N said, handing her the book.

Wonyoung's eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Oh my gosh, Y/N, this is one of my favorites! Thank you so much!"

Her genuine appreciation gave Y/N a glimmer of hope, but as soon as he tried to suggest they read it together, she quickly changed the subject.

"Maybe we can discuss it over coffee?" Y/N ventured.

Wonyoung's smile turned apologetic. "I'd love to, but I have a meeting with my project group. How about a rain check?"

Y/N's heart sank, but he nodded. "Of course, a rain check."

As weeks turned into months, Y/N's efforts intensified. He attended every event she mentioned, from art exhibitions to charity runs. He even signed up for a cooking class she was taking, hoping to spend more time with her.

During the cooking class, they worked side by side, preparing a complex dish together. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as they created something delicious together.

"This is really fun, Y/N," Wonyoung said, her eyes sparkling as they tasted their creation.

Y/N smiled, his heart swelling with joy. "It is. Maybe we could cook together more often?"

Wonyoung's expression turned thoughtful. "Maybe. We'll see."

Despite the fleeting moments of connection, Wonyoung continued to keep Y/N at a distance. He found himself questioning his every move, wondering if he was doing something wrong or if she simply wasn't interested.

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One evening, after another unsuccessful attempt to ask her out, Y/N found himself sitting alone in the campus garden, his heart heavy with doubt. His best friend, Sungjae, found him there and sat down beside him.

"Hey, man. You look like you could use a friend," Sungjae said, his tone sympathetic.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do, Sungjae. I've tried everything to show Wonyoung how much I care about her, but she keeps pulling away."

Sungjae patted his shoulder. "Maybe she just needs more time. Or maybe she's scared to let someone in."

Y/N nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at him. "I just wish I knew how she really felt."

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Despite her mixed signals, Y/N persisted. He attended every event she mentioned she was interested in, made sure to remember the little things she liked, and always tried to be there for her when she needed someone to talk to. But eventually, the constant back-and-forth took its toll. He was tired of the uncertainty, the feeling that he was always one step behind. So, one day, he decided to stop. He stopped sending flowers, stopped asking her out, stopped trying to win her over. It was time to move on.

Wonyoung noticed the change immediately. At first, she thought it was a phase, that he'd bounce back with renewed determination. But as days turned into weeks, the realization hit her—she missed him. She missed his efforts, his thoughtfulness, the way he made her feel special. The absence of his attention left a void she hadn't anticipated.

One evening, as Y/N was packing up his things at the end of a long day, Wonyoung appeared. She looked different—nervous, unsure. It was a stark contrast to her usual confident self.

"Can we talk?" she asked softly.

Y/N nodded, motioning for her to sit down. She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a vulnerability he hadn't seen before.

"I've been thinking a lot," she began. "About us, about everything you've done for me. I guess I didn't realize how much it meant to me until you stopped."

Y/N listened, his heart pounding. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, but now that it was here, he felt a mix of emotions.

"I was scared," she admitted. "Scared of how much I was starting to care about you. But now, I know that I don't want to lose you."

Y/N took her hand in his, a smile spreading across his face. "Wonyoung, I've always been here. I'm glad you finally realized what you want."

She squeezed his hand, a look of determination in her eyes. "I do. And if you're still willing, I want to give us a real chance."

Y/N nodded, the joy in his heart undeniable. "I've always been willing."

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The following weeks were a whirlwind of new experiences and deeper connections. Wonyoung, true to her word, was committed to making things work between them. She made an effort to spend more time with Y/N, to open up about her fears and dreams, and to show him how much she appreciated everything he had done for her.

One weekend, Wonyoung suggested a trip to the countryside. It was a spontaneous idea, something she had always wanted to do but never found the right moment for. Y/N agreed, eager to explore new places with her and create lasting memories.

The drive to the countryside was filled with laughter and music. Wonyoung sang along to her favorite songs, her voice filling the car with warmth. Y/N couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of contentment he hadn't felt in a long time. As they drove through winding roads surrounded by lush greenery, he realized how much he had grown to love her.

When they arrived at their destination, a charming bed-and-breakfast nestled in a picturesque village, Wonyoung's excitement was contagious. They spent the days exploring the village, hiking through scenic trails, and enjoying each other's company. In the evenings, they sat by the fireplace, sharing stories and dreams.

One night, as they both lay on a blanket under the starry sky, Wonyoung turned to Y/N, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" Y/N asked, turning to face her.

"For not giving up on me," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "For being patient, for caring so much. I never realized how lucky I was until now."

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Y/N reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I never gave up because I believed in us. And I'm glad you do too now."

Wonyoung smiled, leaning in to kiss him. It was a gentle, tender kiss, filled with promises of a future together. In that moment, Y/N knew that everything he had gone through was worth it. The chase, the uncertainty, the heartache—it all led to this beautiful realization.

As he held her in his arms, he felt a sense of peace and happiness. He had finally found what he was looking for, and it was more than he had ever imagined.

Back at university, their relationship continued to grow. They became the couple everyone admired, not because of grand gestures, but because of the genuine love and respect they had for each other. They supported each other's goals, celebrated each other's successes, and comforted each other during difficult times.

Wonyoung's friends noticed the change in her. She seemed happier, more at ease. They saw how much she cared about Y/N, how she went out of her way to make him feel loved. It wasn't just the little gifts or the surprise visits; it was the way she looked at him, the way she spoke about him. It was clear to everyone that she had fallen deeply in love with him.

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One day, as they were walking together on campus, Wonyoung stopped and turned to Y/N. There was a seriousness in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said, taking a deep breath.

Y/N nodded, his curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Wonyoung hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I've been offered an internship abroad. It's an incredible opportunity, but it means I'll be away for a year."

Y/N's heart sank at the thought of being apart from her for so long. He knew how important this internship was for her career, but the idea of not seeing her every day was painful.

"I don't want to leave you," she continued, her voice trembling. "But this is something I've worked so hard for. I don't know what to do."

Y/N took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Wonyoung, this is your dream. You have to go. We'll make it work, no matter what. I believe in us."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him tightly. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.

"You deserve everything, Wonyoung," he replied, holding her close. "And I'll be right here, waiting for you."

The months that followed were challenging, but Y/N and Wonyoung found ways to stay connected. They talked every day,

sharing their experiences and supporting each other from afar. The distance was hard, but it also made them appreciate each other even more.

Wonyoung thrived in her internship, gaining valuable experience and making important connections. She often spoke about how much she missed Y/N, but she also expressed how grateful she was for his unwavering support.

As the year drew to a close, they both counted down the days until they would be reunited. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but it also filled them with excitement. Y/N planned a special celebration for her return, wanting to show her just how much he had missed her.

When the day finally arrived, Y/N stood at the airport, his heart pounding with anticipation. As soon as he saw Wonyoung walking towards him, all the months of separation melted away. She ran into his arms, and he held her tightly, never wanting to let go.

"I'm home," she whispered, tears of joy streaming down her face.

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"Welcome home," he replied, kissing her softly. "I've missed you so much."

The experiences they both had during that year apart strengthened their bond even further. They realized that love wasn't just about being together all the time, but about supporting each other's dreams and growing together, even when apart.

Wonyoung's return brought a renewed sense of purpose and excitement to their relationship. They made a promise to each other to never take their time together for granted and to cherish every moment they had. The weeks following her return were filled with joyful reunions, long conversations, and a deepening of their connection.

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One evening, Y/N and Wonyoung found themselves sitting on a park bench, the sunset casting a warm glow over them. Wonyoung rested her head on Y/N's shoulder, a contented smile on her face.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Wonyoung nodded, her eyes closed. "Of course, I do. It was at the charity gala. You were so nervous when you approached me."

Y/N chuckled, reminiscing. "I was terrified. But I knew I had to talk to you. There was something about you that just drew me in."

Wonyoung looked up at him, her eyes filled with affection. "I'm glad you did. You changed my life, Y/N."

"You changed mine too," Y/N replied, kissing her forehead.

As the months went by, Y/N and Wonyoung continued to support each other's aspirations. They attended each other's events, celebrated milestones, and were there for each other during challenges. Their relationship was built on a foundation of trust, respect, and a deep understanding of one another.

One day, Y/N received an exciting opportunity. A renowned research institution offered him a position to lead a groundbreaking project. It was a dream come true, but it also meant he would have to move to another city for a year. When he shared the news with Wonyoung, he saw a mix of emotions in her eyes—pride, excitement, and a hint of sadness.

"This is an incredible opportunity, Y/N," Wonyoung said, her voice steady. "You have to take it. It's your dream."

Y/N took her hands in his, searching her eyes. "But what about us? I don't want to be away from you again."

Wonyoung smiled, her eyes shining with determination. "We've done this before, and we can do it again. We both have dreams to chase, and we'll always find our way back to each other."

Her words filled Y/N with hope and reassurance. They had faced challenges before and come out stronger. He knew that with Wonyoung by his side, they could overcome anything.

As Y/N prepared for his move, they made a promise to stay connected and support each other through this new chapter of their lives. They spent their remaining days together creating memories, exploring new places, and deepening their bond. They knew that distance could never weaken their love.

The night before Y/N's departure, they sat on the rooftop of their favorite building, looking out at the city lights. Wonyoung leaned into him, her head resting on his chest.

"Promise me something," she said softly.

"Anything," Y/N replied, holding her close.

"Promise me that no matter where life takes us, we'll always find our way back to each other," Wonyoung whispered.

Y/N kissed the top of her head, his heart swelling with love. "I promise. Always."

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The year apart was challenging, but Y/N and Wonyoung stayed true to their promise. They talked every day, sharing their successes and supporting each other through the tough times. The distance only strengthened their love and commitment.

Y/N's project was a resounding success, and he returned with a sense of accomplishment and excitement for the future. Wonyoung greeted him at the airport, her smile brighter than ever. They embraced, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

"I'm so proud of you," Wonyoung said, her voice filled with emotion.

"I'm proud of us," Y/N replied, holding her tightly.

Their love story was one of perseverance, trust, and unwavering support. They had faced challenges and come out stronger, their bond unbreakable. Together, they knew they could achieve anything.

As they walked hand in hand out of the airport, ready to face whatever the future held, they knew one thing for certain—no matter where life took them, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love was a journey, and they were ready to embrace every moment of it, together.

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[pendarling]

Ring of Engagement

Villain locked the cuffs around Hero's wrists, "You're at fault for getting stuck in this situation." They sighed. Hero was on a terrible losing streak this month, and a part of Villain wanted to ask what was wrong; then again, what right did they have to ask those questions? They only ever met with them once a couple of weeks.

Their eyes had caught something they hadn't noticed as they secured the cuffs, "A ring?" They smirked, "I didn't know you were engaged."

Hero grumbled something and reluctantly let themselves be led away to the vehicle. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to Villain that Hero might've had a life outside their job, but the thought had disturbed them enough to grow slightly annoyed at the proposition. "I didn't take you for being a potential spouse." They off-handedly commented. They weren't entirely sure why they said it, maybe just to pass the time or to fill in the empty silence at Hero's refusal to banter.

They pushed them into the front seat before stepping to the driver's side and starting the ignition. It would take a while until they arrived at the lair, mainly because they had moved it outside of town to avoid the growing dangers surrounding the downtown area.

"How're you feeling?" They glanced to the right of them and caught Hero's annoyed stare.

"Are you going to keep talking, or are we gonna do this in peace?"

"A little grumpy today, huh?" They chuckled and pulled the car onto a highway. "Get used to me because we'll be stuck together."

"For fuck's sake..." They leaned back into the chair and fiddled with the metal, locking their hands together; a specialized handcuff prevented a person from using their powers. 

"So what's up with the ring? You got a family?"

Hero scoffed lightly and stared out the window. "Why? Were you interested?"

Villain felt their ego shift a bit, "What? No. You're way in over your head, dear." They licked their teeth and stifled an uncontrolled laugh, "Besides, you're not even my type." 

"Okay, well, you're not my type either."

The soft hum of the tires running along asphalt covered the few minutes of silence between them again as Villain wondered if engaging further would bring more harm than good. Still, their inability to keep their lips shut made them decide, "It's a cheap-looking ring anyway." They mumbled. 

Their adversary laughed heartedly, "Are you seriously judging me for a ring? Just let it go already!"

"I'm not judging, it's just ugly."

"You're ugly."

"You would actually settle down with someone who can barely give you a proper ring? Wow."

Hero shrugged, "And you could do better?"

They clicked their tongue, almost too glad they had asked, "I sure as hell would."

Their rival smiled and looked in Villain's direction. "All this for a ring with no meaning..."

Villain spared a second to shoot a glare at Hero's smugness. Yet, somewhere inside, they'd gone through the stages of grief until swift recovery at the newfound information. Villain smiled pleasantly, and Hero had mistaken it for another challenge. Their eyes scanned them for another reaction besides the failed attempt to laugh with joy. They couldn't believe their luck. Hero wasn't engaged.

What a relief.

"What's so funny?" Hero asked.

"Nothing," they smirked again and continued focusing on the road.

"You've flamed me all day for my romantic decisions--"

Villain shrugged. "What? I already told you I'm not interested. You can do whatever you want with your love life. Go marry a hero for all I care." They rolled their eyes and tightened their grip on the steering wheel. Yet, Hero could see they kept that smile, a sense of satisfaction.

Hero crossed their legs and faced the window again, "Yeah, maybe I will. Better than someone with a criminal record."

Their eyes squinted, a flash of irritation and some bitter hurt stung through those words, and even though they had previously said very clearly that they weren't interested, the intense pain that arrived moments afterwards promised a different reality. 

They took a deep breath, their brows furrowed, and without any warning, Villain pulled the car over abruptly, the car set on idle. "First of all, you have no reason to bring up my past."

"What's your deal anyways, Villain? Just keep driving."

"No. You're saying this, and you're saying that you better stay off of my back."

"Or what?" they smirked calmly. Their unbothered eyes hid another suppressed feeling they had only seen a few times previously. Villain unbuckled their seatbelt without much thought; they'd pushed their lips roughly against Hero's. Their hands pulled at their attire, and in response, Hero reciprocated with an equal amount of fierceness. Their lips locked in a battle for control, tugging and roughly pushing them back down again repeatedly. 

Their eyes opened momentarily in a silent argument for domination. Unfortunately, Hero was always on a losing streak, and their bad luck had returned in the form of a small trickle of blood down their lip as Villain bit slightly harder than intended. It didn't have to come down to it, but Hero forced it upon themselves.

"Fucking idiot," Villain breathed heavily against their mouth and licked lightly at the cut, "Look what you made me do to you." 

Hero winced, their breath bated and sharp. They patiently waited for Villain to undo their seatbelt, "That hurt, you animal."

"Shut up," Villain shoved Hero to the back of the car; they rechecked the vehicle to be left in park while busy only momentarily. Hero sat on the leather chair, still trying to understand their surroundings. Their enemy followed quickly behind with much more elegance than them, "What are you sitting around for? Get on your back."

"You're going to have to make me!" 

______

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the streets dark. Long empty stretches of road were trapped between a suffocating line of pine trees. The sky was a dim blue, heavy with clouds as they began to roll in.

Hero woke up a little warmer than expected. Villain had left their coat lying on top of them, which kept them from the chilly temperatures of the season's end as they approached fall. 

Hero could barely make out Villain's words through the dull sounds of the vehicle's engine. "Up already?" They glanced at the rearview mirror and adjusted it slightly. 

They could only groan as they struggled to sit up from their position. It was much harder to do with the handcuffs still on their wrists. Villain would never let their guard down, even if they knew there wasn't any threat at their weakest state. "I'm starving."

"As I expected." They smirked, "Just give me a second, I know a place." They pulled the car over to what looked like a diner. Its bright light nearly burned their eyes if they hadn't squeezed them shut in time. 

Villain stepped out of the car and opened the back door. "C'mon now, don't waste my time."

Hero took a deep breath and used what little strength was left to scoot to the edge. 

"Wait."

Villain leaned into the car and looked them over, their hands reaching around their neck and pushing their hair to one side. Villain's hands were exponentially colder than theirs, and instinctively, Hero had goosebumps at the touch of their icy fingers along their neck and down their collarbone. 

"You're freezing." They murmured. 

"I know." They whispered back and straightened up again, "Stay here."

From the trunk of the car, Villain pulled out a scarf and stuck out a hand to help them out of the vehicle. They would have nearly collapsed on themselves if it hadn't been for Villain's quick catch. "Easy there." They helped them up and wrapped the scarf around their neck with careful focus. Next, they undid their cuffs; Hero was just glad they weren't going in with them still on. In place of the cuffs, however, Villain took it upon themselves to reach for their hand. 

Even though they complained of the cold earlier, it felt nice. Villain's hands were comforting as they stayed secured onto them. Hopefully, they knew that; it would be a shame otherwise.

"Be good." Villain shut the door, and they walked inside the diner.

Villain insisted on sitting next to them rather than across, and it wasn't like they had a choice in the matter anyway since they were the prisoner. Whatever it was, it was probably out of fear of them escaping. They had Hero sit between the window and them. "What do you want?" They slid over the menu in their direction.

With heavy eyelids, they tapped on the sheet at whatever was closest. "This one."

"This one? You sure?"

They nodded. All Hero wanted to do was go back to sleep; they only woke up due to hunger. One of the employees walked over and took their order. Villain did the talking; they could only stare outside at the small shower of rain that began to pour from the sky. "How long until we get to your lair?"

"That's confidential." They said. 

Hero narrowed their eyes at Villain's reflection, "Don't tell me you're trying to kill me and dump by body somewhere out here."

They heard their enemy laugh. "No, that's too cliche." 

Hero adjusted themselves in their seat and felt a dull pain from there. They reached into their pocket, and it was the ring from earlier. They didn't recall placing it in their pocket. Hero took a deep breath and set it on the table, sliding it to Villain's side. 

"Hm?" Villain's attention shifted to their hand on the table as they pulled it away to reveal the ring underneath. "Are you giving this to me now?" Villain mused.

They looked at Villain's expression, a mix of disbelief and a calm delight. "You can have it. I don't want it anymore." 

They quietly picked up the band and lifted it to their eyes. The intricate details hidden in its sharp edges weren't noticeable from a distance, but they've come to appreciate its worth even if Hero deemed it meaningless. Without another word, Villain placed it back in its spot. "You can wear it." 

Hero's head rose just enough to catch them looking their way. They tucked the ring back into their pocket and settled their hand atop Villain's.

~~~

MASTERLIST

[taska-rokanh]

Befriending Spock Headcanons

My first Star Trek content! Spock is my favorite character by far and I feel like he needs some love. A lot of my Star Trek content will be romantic, but I feel like especially with Spock, it's necessary to explore the first steps of just becoming friends, because it's harder to break down his walls and he's not one to just act on attraction at first sight.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.1 k

- People have very different, often very polarizing opinions on Commander Spock. You'd heard more than enough stories about how cold, calculating, unforgiving, and inhuman he was. 

- But when you met him, all you could think was that he was so cool.

- He was incredibly intelligent, capable of making smart and informed decisions regarding basically any situation that affected the ship in minutes, and always acted with absolute certainty. Despite that, he did not want a command of his own and readily accepted his own mistakes, readjusting accordingly. What was there not to admire?

- You tried your best to be friendly, but you knew it was a long shot. Not only was he a Vulcan, he was your commanding officer. You weren't sure how he regarded any sort of personal relationship, really.

- Still, you found yourself engaging him in light conversation in the halls, the mess hall, or the lift. You broke it off quickly if it didn't seem like he wanted to talk, which surprisingly was very infrequent. If you got him talking about science, or the history and philosophy of Vulcan, it was quite easy to get him to talk.

- Spock is... I'm not sure how he would describe it, but I suppose, pleasantly surprised to find someone that not only tolerates his discussion of such topics, but actively pursues them.

- Whether you know it or not, you've chosen the most effective method of breaking the ice.

- Spock encourages this by consulting you on data that is outside of the normal scope of your duties as often as possible. He enjoys being challenged, and surmises that you must, as well. You have a natural curiosity and a scientific mind, one that with proper training could even attain his level of authority in time. These discussions don't feel like replacement training sessions so much as informal academic chatter, though.

- Spock starts to show that he considers you a friend through verbal encouragement first. It's often very dry and hard to detect, but it's there.

- He once corrected you regarding a postulation you'd made when analyzing some data that was adjacent to your field. You said, "Oh, right, that makes more sense. Sorry, I'm a little stupid sometimes," out of habit, something that you knew you should probably grow out of.

- He looked at you, perplexed. "Ensign, you should not insult yourself for being unaware of a highly specialized piece of information that allowed me to see the facts in this particular light. Every scientist, no matter how intelligent, has their blind spots."

- You smiled at his encouragement before raising your eyebrow in doubt. "Even you?"

- Spock hesitated for a moment before considering his ineptitude in handling his friendship with his captain and now, it appeared, you as well. "Of course."

- You didn't believe him, but thought it was sweet of him to say so. "Thanks, Commander."

- "You may call me Mr. Spock, or Spock, if you prefer."

- "Sure thing, Mr. Spock."

- The Mr. gets dropped shortly after.

- Every smile you manage to get out of him is an absolute treasure, as it is very rare. Something tells me that the first smile he gives you would be in a situation in which you are distressed and he is trying to reassure you, perhaps he sustained a nasty injury and you are very concerned. The smile is fleeting and feels a little unnatural, but the effort he put into it was enough to convince you that he would recover. little did you know there was little effort expended--seeing your care for him, it was almost irresistible.

- Every smile you give him is treasured by him, though they are so much more frequent. It is true that humans smile with so little provocation, but it's still nice to know sometimes that he's the reason and not the butt of some joke (looking at you, Kirk and Bones)

- There are two facts about Vulcans that are very relevant to this situation: 1) Vulcans are touch telepaths, meaning that touch is very, incredibly personal and reserved for special situations (except for Sarek and Amanda cuz they're whores), and 2) Vulcans are, in fact, very emotional people.

- Keeping these facts in mind, there must be some way for Spock to express his feelings of appreciation and camaraderie for you, and it cannot be in the average human manner (handshakes, pats on the back, high fives)

- So instead, he takes a more vested interest in your wellbeing, asking if you've eaten, drank water, slept, etc. especially when you've come back from an away mission and are busy analyzing new data.

- You often seem to find each other following each of the Enterprise's adventures. These are often time-sensitive and life-threatening, and as a low-ranking science officer, often your only orders are to stay put and protect yourself. 

- The first time or two after you've become friends, you try to hide how shaken you are--you know you're fine, really. You just can't help that your reaction to coming down off the adrenaline high is to literally shake and sometimes cry a bit.

- However, Spock sees through what you're trying to do and reassures you that you are safe. "I know."

- "I intended to convey that you are safe to express any emotions you may currently be experiencing."

- Oh.

- You usually end up sitting with Spock somewhere, your quarters, your lab, the mess hall, the holodeck, shaking and crying before recovering after a bit. The emotional expression always makes Spock a bit uncomfortable--not because he's disgusted by it, but because he doesn't have/doesn't feel comfortable expressing the skills or the emotional intelligence needed to interact with them. 

- His simply being there is enough. You recover in 15 minutes or so and can carry on as before.

- "Have you considered consulting Dr. McCoy regarding the management of your anxiety surrounding these events? They seem to cause you a high degree of stress."

- You shrugged. "It's just my body's response, it doesn't bother me," you reassured him. "Besides, I've got you."

- The feeling of being needed in a way not associated with his intelligence or his duty was unexpectedly welcome.

- In time, he comes to take a more active role, bringing you food and water while you're working or offering to make a bit of progress on your work while you take a short rest--Vulcans don't require as much sleep as humans, after all.

- After a while of this, you mention to him that you feel that you could be a more proactive friend, when he takes so much time and effort to look out for you, and ask him what you could do.

- He looks at you, perplexed. "Your presence in my life is quite sufficient," he assures you. "Your companionship proves to be a gratifying part of my daily routine in any measure."

- He has no idea how sweet he can be.

[the-badger-mole]

Swept Away

Katara took a deep breath. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. She wasn't nervous. Not really. Not in the sense that other people mean when they say they're nervous. She wasn't scared. She was eager. In a few short minutes, she would be a wife. She would be Zuko's wife. He was going to be her husband.

"Are you sure about this?" Suki asked for the thousandth time. "Really sure?"

"I am." Katara opened her eyes and turned to her sister-in-law. She couldn't fight the smile that spread over her face. "I'm more sure of this than anything in my life. Zuko's it. He's the one."

"Katara," Suki sighed. "Look, I get it. Zuko's incredibly hot. He's smart. He...seems really nice, but-"

"Suki," Katara started to say, but she didn't get a chance to complete her thought.

"Katara, you've known him three months!" Suki burst out. "You've only been dating for eight weeks! You are the most straight laced person I've ever met. Why are you doing something this...impulsive? You're not impulsive!"

"What are you talking about?" Katara turned from the mirror to face Suki directly. "I'm exactly this impulsive. Don't you remember Jang Hui? My protest about gender equality for STEM fields at the North Pole? The time I started a rally for prison reform?"

"Okay, fine," Suki relented, rolling her eyes. "When it comes to social justice, you are very impulsive. But, this? Katara, you're getting married! Without your dad here. Without your GranGran! I know how much they mean to you."

"They mean the world to me," Katara agreed. "But you know I've never cared about a huge wedding. I love Zuko. I love him. I don't see why I should have to wait to make him my husband just because it would take too long for Dad to fly over to see us get married. We'll have a big party...a huge one later. And everyone we love will get to meet and celebrate. But this feels right!"

"Right?" Suki snorted. "It feels right to get married without telling anyone but me and your brother?"

"Yeah," Katara said. A wistful smile tugged at her lips. "I know it sounds crazy, but...I can't wait to marry him. I literally cannot wait. I've never felt this way about anyone. You know! I know you do. Sokka told me you and he started talking about marriage two months in." Suki rolled her eyes skyward and groaned.

"Yeah, talking about it!" Suki repeated it. "We didn't actually get engaged until a year in! We got married on our second anniversary!"

"Zuko and I don't want to wait that long," Katara laughed. "So we've on a faster timeline. So what?"

"What if there are things you don't like about him?" Suki pressed. "What if he's....I don't know...super anal about the way you put toilet paper on the roll? What if he doesn't wash his feet in the shower? What if he...he hates cats?"

"Did you know Sokka's every annoying habit when you married him?" Katara challenged. Suki made a face at her and sucked her teeth.

"No," she admitted. "But I knew a few of them! I knew enough to know that I could deal with the biggest ones."

"So do I," Katara said. "I know that Zuko likes his food unreasonably spicy. I know that when he's angry, he shuts down and needs a day or two before he can talk about it calmly. I know he thinks rom-coms are a wasted of a perfectly good evening. But I also know that he already values my opinion and will make decisions with me. I know he's put in so much work unlearning toxic traits he was taught as a child, way before he and I met. I know he has the softest heart underneath the hard layers. In three months, he's become one of my closest friends. I trust him, and he trusts me. I love him, Suki. I want to marry him now.

"Um..." Suki swiped at her eyes with her knuckles, and blinked rapidly against more tears. "I get that. I do! I just don't want you to regret doing it this way. I don't want you to regret not having Dad here to walk you down the aisle. Or not having Gran Gran help you into your gown. Don't you want a first dance with Zuko?

Katara turned back to the mirror and considered her reflection. As a girl, she had pictured her wedding. Her dressed in silk and looking the best she's ever looked, and her father walking with her to meet her husband. It was exactly as Suki said, with her dancing with her new husband while people took pictures and tossed confetti. Her extended family together and celebrating.

"I don't need it," she told Suki. "Did you know that the only family that Zuko has is his uncle? His mother is dead. His father is a monster. His sister won't speak to him. He wouldn't be alone- he has friends- but, it wouldn't be the same. Plus crowds make him anxious.

"So he asked for this?" Suki frowned. "He wanted to get married at City Hall?

"No, this was my idea," Katara assured her best friend. "He said he was fine with whatever I wanted. But Zuko's an introvert, and a little agoraphobic. The only buffer he would have would be me and his uncle. He wouldn't enjoy himself. Not as much as I would want. There will be plenty of time later to celebrate with the people we love. But not all at once.

"Dad won't like it," Suki warned. Katara shrugged.

"He'll get over it once I explain it to him," she said. "And he'll love Zuko. They have a lot in common."

Suki stared at Katara for a long while, wracking her brains for something, anything to say to her sister-in-law. She came up frustratingly empty. She should have more objections to her best friend and sister marrying someone she's only known a few months. Katara was convincing. She was very convincing when she wanted to be. Finally, Suki threw her hands up in surrender. If Katara was making a mistake, then the next best thing Suki and Sokka could do was make sure they were at least close enough to help her if she needed it.

"Sokka's not thrilled," she told Katara. "I promised him I'd talk sense into you before it was too late."

"It's been too late for a while," Katara chuckled. Suki nodded and laughed with her.

"I see that now," she said. "Sokka's going to be so disappointed."

"I hope that won't cause any issues with you guys," Katara's brow drew down in worry. Suki just waved her off, though.

"Nah," she said. "I'll just tell him I'm pregnant if he gets too riled up." Katara gasped and leapt up from her seat.

"Are you joking?" she squealed. Suki grinned and shook her head.

"I just found out a couple of days ago," she said. "I was going to take him out to the game this weekend and have it announced on the jumbotron, but I'll use it to distract him from your questionable decision making if I need to."

"I'm so happy for you!" Katara said pulling Suki in for a hug. Suki hugged her back tightly.

"I'm happy for you, too." And to her surprise, Suki realized she meant it.

[muiitoloko]

Can we have something fluffy but smutty for Karl? Like a second part of the story of him and nurse reader?

Her nursing him to his prime self, being able to play with his son, take care of business, living his best life but avoiding the sex topic because they are a little scared to try and having something happen or going wrong with Karl’s heart but it goes exactly the opposite way, fantastic, cute and sexy since he is a real gentleman and macho lol

Title: Fragile Heart, Fierce Passion

Summary: Karl is determined to take care of you in any way he can.

Pairing: Karl Hoffmeister × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for your request. I'm loving writing for Karl. There are so few (almost no) stories about him. We need more of Karl!

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Just as you promised, you took care of Karl and his son, Otto. Your days were a whirlwind of responsibilities, but you embraced each moment with determination and love. Karl, true to his word, put an engagement ring on your finger, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability as he vowed to return to you in better health. The memory of his touch lingered, a constant reminder of the bond you shared.

Moving into Karl’s house marked a new chapter in your life. You balanced the delicate act of caring for Karl’s fragile health with the lively energy of young Otto. The boy, with his boundless curiosity and infectious laughter, quickly became the light of your life. Karl watched with quiet admiration as you seamlessly integrated into their world, your nurturing presence bringing a sense of normalcy and warmth to their home.

Karl’s business, a sprawling industrial empire, presented another challenge. At first, Karl was hesitant about involving you in his business affairs, a reflection of his deeply ingrained beliefs about gender roles. However, a single icy look and a raised eyebrow from you were enough to dispel his doubts. He realized that you were not only capable but determined to support him in every aspect of his life.

With resolute efficiency, you dived into managing the industries. Your mornings often began with reviewing reports and coordinating with Karl’s staff, ensuring that the operations ran smoothly despite his absence. You proved yourself to be an astute and resourceful leader, navigating the complexities of the business world with the same care and precision you applied to medicine.

Despite the demands of the business, you never neglected your primary role as Karl’s caregiver. You meticulously managed his medication, monitored his progress, and made sure he followed the doctor’s orders. Your evenings were spent by his side, sharing quiet moments of conversation and providing the emotional support he needed to keep fighting.

Otto, ever observant, often joined you in Karl’s study, where you taught him about the world of business and responsibility. His bright eyes sparkled with curiosity as he absorbed every word, eager to follow in his father’s footsteps. You took great care to balance these lessons with playtime, ensuring that Otto’s childhood remained joyful and carefree.

Karl’s initial reluctance about your involvement in his business gradually gave way to admiration and gratitude. He saw how your presence revitalized both his personal and professional life. The industries under your guidance thrived, and the respect of his employees for you grew with each passing day. Karl’s health showed signs of improvement, a testament to your unwavering dedication.

One evening, as you sat by Karl’s bedside, he took your hand in his, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of appreciation. “You’ve done so much more than I could have ever asked,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve given me hope, strength, and a reason to fight. Thank you for being my rock.”

You smiled, gently squeezing his hand. “We’re in this together, Karl. I promised to take care of you and Otto, and I meant it. We’ll get through this, one step at a time.”

Karl nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “And I have no doubt that we will,” he replied, his voice firm despite the underlying fatigue. “With you by my side, I feel like I can conquer anything.”

As you smiled and leaned in to kiss him, planning just a quick kiss to convey your affection, Karl surprised you by pulling you closer, his lips meeting yours with a hunger that mirrored your own longing. The kiss deepened, both of you losing yourselves in the intensity of the moment, fueled by years of unspoken desire and missed opportunities.

But as the passion threatened to consume you both, you hesitated, pulling back slightly despite the overwhelming urge to surrender to the heat of the moment. Karl held you close, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked at you with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

You knew that taking things further with Karl was a risk, one that you were not willing to take lightly. As a doctor, you understood the dangers that his fragile health posed, and the thought of risking his well-being for the sake of a fleeting moment of pleasure was too great a gamble.

And Karl, despite his own desires, shared your apprehension. The fear of his own mortality loomed large in his mind, casting a shadow over the passion that burned between you. He longed to be close to you, to feel your touch and experience the depth of your love, but he couldn't shake the fear of what could happen if things went too far.

Still, the desire between you was undeniable, and Karl was determined to find a way to please you, even if it meant taking things slow and steady.

As Karl's lips trailed down your neck, his hands tender yet possessive, you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. But as much as you wanted to lose yourself in the passion of the moment, the doctor inside you screamed a warning, reminding you of Karl's fragile heart.

"Karl, we can't..." you protested weakly, trying to push him away even as his touch ignited a fire within you.

But Karl was relentless, pulling you closer to him with a strength born of longing and desire. "I need to take care of you, just as you've taken care of me and Otto," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with need.

You tried to protest again, citing his heart condition as a reason to hold back, but Karl silenced you with a searing kiss, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace that left you breathless and wanting more.

As Karl's lips moved from your mouth to your earlobe, sucking and nibbling with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, you couldn't help but moan in pleasure. His touch was electrifying, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

"Karl, please..." you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "We can't risk..."

But Karl wouldn't be deterred, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin as he begged softly against your ear. "Let me touch you," he pleaded, his voice filled with longing. "I need to feel you, to know that you're real."

You hesitated, torn between your desire for Karl and the fear of what could happen if things went too far. But when Karl's fingers dipped lower, brushing against your inner thigh with a feather-light touch, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a reluctant nod, you gave in to the overwhelming need that consumed you both, allowing Karl to turn you around and pull you to sit between his legs. Your back pressed against his chest, his warmth enveloping you as he leaned against the headboard, his lips trailing kisses along the curve of your neck.

As his hand caressed your arms with a gentle yet possessive touch, you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. "Karl..." you gasped, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you."

Karl's response was a low growl of desire, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched your own. "I need you," he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against your skin. "Let me show you how much I want you."

You nodded, giving Karl the permission he sought, your heart racing with anticipation as his fingers trailed down your arm, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. His touch was gentle yet possessive, his hand cupping your breast through the fabric of your nightgown, causing you to moan softly in response.

As Karl's other hand continued its journey downward, caressing your thigh with a feather-light touch, you couldn't help but part your legs for him, eager for the intimate connection that awaited you. His touch left a trail of fire in its wake, igniting a hunger within you that demanded to be sated.

You watched with bated breath as Karl lifted your nightgown, exposing your panties to his hungry gaze. The anticipation of his touch left you trembling with desire, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you waited for him to make his move.

With a hungry look in his eyes, Karl leaned in closer, his fingers teasing the thin fabric of your panties as he felt the dampness that betrayed your arousal. His gaze met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and anticipation, as he sought your permission to proceed.

"Please, Karl," you whispered hoarsely, your voice thick with need. "I want you to touch me."

Karl's response was a low growl of desire as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "I've been dreaming of this moment, meine Liebe. I want to feel you, to taste you, to make you mine."

With trembling fingers, Karl hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down as he revealed your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. The sight of your exposed pussy filled him with a primal need to possess you, to make you his in every sense of the word.

As his fingers brushed against your wetness, you arched against him, your hips rising to meet his touch as he explored the depths of your desire. "Oh god, Karl," you moaned, your voice filled with need. "I need you inside me."

Karl's response was a hungry growl as he leaned in closer, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless and wanting more. "I'm going to make you mine, meine Liebe," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "I'm going to claim you in ways you've never imagined."

With a surge of determination, Karl curled his fingers inside your pussy, groaning in pleasure as he felt your wetness enveloping him. The sensation was intoxicating, driving him to the brink of madness as he lost himself in the depths of your desire.

As you writhed against him, lost in the ecstasy of his touch, Karl's fingers worked their magic, exploring every inch of your pussy with a hunger that bordered on desperation. "You're so wet for me, meine Liebe," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm going to make you come undone, over and over again, until you beg me for mercy."

You whimpered, holding Karl's wrist. He paused, his fingers still buried deep inside you. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly against him as you began to rock against his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction he provided.

But Karl didn't move his fingers, instead choosing to hold you in place, savoring the moment as he pressed his lips against your ear. His breath was hot against your skin as he praised your pussy, whispering words of admiration and desire that sent shivers down your spine.

"God, you're so beautiful," Karl murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you, meine Liebe. Your pussy is so soft, so wet for me. I love the way you squeeze my fingers, the way you moan and whimper for more. You drive me wild, darling."

His words sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, the intensity of his desire matching your own as you rocked against his hand, craving more of his touch. But Karl had other plans, and he wasn't about to let you take control just yet.

"You're so tight, meine Liebe," Karl murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you around my cock so badly, but I can't risk it with my heart."

You whimper in response, craving his touch more than anything. His fingers are relentless, teasing and stroking your folds with a skill that only comes from years of longing and desire.

"Tell me, darling," Karl's voice is low and gravelly, his breath tickling your ear. "How many of my fingers can you handle inside you? You've got two in there already, and you're so tight."

Your hips instinctively move against his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction he provides. "I-I think I can take another one," you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with need.

Karl chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You're so eager for me," he murmurs, his fingers dipping lower, brushing against your entrance. "I love how you respond to me, meine Liebe."

As his fingers curl inside you, stretching you gently, you moan and arch your back, seeking more of him. "Please, Karl," you plead, your voice thick with desire. "I need more."

With a determined growl, Karl pushes a third finger into you, stretching you to accommodate his size. "You're doing so well for me," he praises, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you could take it."

The sensation of being filled by Karl's fingers is overwhelming, and you writhe against him, lost in the pleasure of his touch. "Oh god, Karl," you moan, your voice echoing with need. "I need you, please."

Karl's other arm wraps around your waist, holding you firmly against him. "I've got you, meine Liebe," he assures you, his voice filled with tenderness. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

He begins to move his fingers inside you, setting a rhythm that drives you closer to the edge. "Does it feel good, darling?" he questions, his voice a low rumble. "Do you like how I touch you?"

You can only nod, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. "Yes, Karl," you gasp, your breath hitching with each movement. "I love it, please don't stop."

He continues to move his fingers, his touch relentless and teasing. "I love how you respond to me," he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp.

Karl’s fingers moved with a skill born of years of yearning and unspoken passion, exploring every inch of your core with a deliberate and intense touch. Each stroke, each caress sent ripples of pleasure through your body, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the sensations he was igniting within you.

"You're so beautiful like this, meine Liebe," Karl murmured against your ear, his voice a blend of desire and reverence. "So responsive, so eager for my touch."

As his fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spot, you gasped and bucked against him, your back arching against his chest. His other hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your nightgown, squeezing gently as his thumb flicked over your nipple. The dual sensations left you breathless, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

"Please, Karl," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. "I need you so much."

Karl's breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "I need you too, darling. But we must be careful. Your pleasure is my priority, but I cannot risk my heart giving out before I have the chance to fully love you."

Despite the haze of desire clouding your mind, his words brought a sliver of clarity. You knew the risks involved, knew how fragile his health was, but the craving for his touch, for his love, was overwhelming. "Just... take it slow," you murmured, your voice a soft plea.

Karl's fingers moved more deliberately, slower but no less intense. He knew exactly how to bring you to the brink and pull you back, drawing out your pleasure until you were a trembling mess in his arms. "Tell me how it feels, meine Liebe," he urged, his voice a low, sensual growl.

"It feels incredible," you breathed, your hips moving in sync with his hand. "You're driving me wild, Karl."

He responded with a deep, satisfied hum, his fingers never faltering. "I want to hear you scream my name," he said, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "I want to make you come undone, right here in my arms."

The intensity of his touch, combined with the heat of his words, pushed you closer to the edge. You could feel your release building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to crash over you at any moment. "Karl, I'm so close," you gasped, your body quivering with anticipation.

"Let go for me," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me see how beautiful you are when you come."

With a final, deliberate stroke of his fingers, you shattered. Your release washed over you in waves, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You screamed Karl's name, your voice echoing through the room as you gave yourself over to the overwhelming pleasure.

Karl held you tightly, his fingers never ceasing their movements as he guided you through your climax. "That's it, meine Liebe," he murmured, his voice filled with pride and satisfaction. "Let it all out. I'm here with you."

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, you collapsed against Karl's chest, your body trembling from the intensity of your release. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you caught your breath.

"You were incredible," Karl whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Thank you for trusting me."

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes filled with love and gratitude. "Thank you for taking care of me," you said softly, your voice still a little breathless. "But we need to be careful, Karl. Your health is too important to risk."

Karl nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I know, meine Liebe," he said, his voice gentle. "I will always put your needs first, but I will also listen to my body. We will find a way to be together, safely."

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I love you, Karl," you whispered, your heart full.

"And I love you," he replied, his voice a tender caress. "More than words can express."

In that moment, wrapped in Karl's arms, you felt a profound sense of peace. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by love and an unbreakable promise.

[fewblood]

Beware of the Shadow - König x Fem Reader - Part 1

Ah…

It took me some effort not to yawn in the middle of the meeting I'm currently a part of. The gathering consisted of us, the four new KorTac recruits, listening to one of our instructors as he elaborate on the details of tomorrow's shooting test. Despite my attempts to stay engaged, his delivery was incredibly… slow. Feeling the pull of drowsiness, I closed my eyes briefly, allowing my thoughts to wander to past weeks' events.

I served in the military before. So, when I was offered a spot in this special organization, I seized this as an opportunity to start anew. Moreover, the compensation was generous; mostly due to the extensive secrecy of the job. I had to sign dozens upon dozens confidentiality agreements, to the extent I can't even disclose my employer nor workplace to my own family. 

I was gradually grinding my place nonetheless. But, like anyone before me, I had to pass a series of range tests. Overall it was demanding, but I handled it. I had to. 

A small cough snapped my eyes back open, my gaze focusing directly toward the men standing before us. One of them loomed significantly taller than the other however, so much so that I found myself wondering how he managed to navigate around on a daily basis.

He went by the name of König—the one that keeps his face hidden. 

It was my first time seeing him in person, although I had certainly heard of his reputation. His eerie presence was enough to send shivers down your spine, and what he's keeping hidden beneath his hood is rumored to be even more chilling. His silent nature was also known to be a stark contrast with the brutality he apparently displayed on the battlefield.

In short, I quickly came to the conclusion that he was someone better not messed with.

His gaze suddenly got on me, certainly prompted by how I was staring at him instead of paying attention to the snail pace instructions in the background. I held my gaze steady for a moment before redirecting my attention back to the briefing, which ended shortly afterward anyway. 

As everyone filed out of the room, I rose from my seat and took a moment to stretch my sore self, thinking I was alone. It was only after I made my neck crack in a satisfying way that I noticed the tall man eyeing me from the other corner of the room. However, he swiftly looked away when caught staring.

"Soldier, come here." he commanded, his stern voice offering no hints of a promising  encounter.

I raised a questioning eyebrow but eventually made my way to the front of the room. I stood in front of him like I wasn't impressed, though truth be told—hell he was quite imposing. Height become an irrelevant metric in his presence; you would always feel smaller next to him.

He's at least 6'8—no… 6'9", perhaps? 

"Yes, sir?" I replied as I kept my hands hidden behind me, subtly fidgeting my concerns away. His colossal stature had me tilting my head up quite a bit and, even then, his eyes were challenging to catch a glimpse of. 

König, though he towered over me, had a small look of intrigue. He squinted his eyes, making them even more difficult to perceive.

"What's your weapon of choice, soldier?" he asked out of nowhere. 

Well, hello to you too, I thought. Politeness, apparently, wasn't his strong suit. But that should be expected, I suppose...

His blunt question also caught me off guard since I assumed he was going to scold me for being distracted during a meeting, like a teacher might. A daunting teacher, in that case. But perhaps he was just curious, given he wasn't a part of our training before? And, considering tomorrow's shooting test, it made some kind of sense of him to inquire.

 "Well, anything that is a ranged weapon, sir. But I'd say I'm the most useful with a sniper in hand." I responded.

König looked at me with a new hint in his eyes. Was it curiosity? Amusement? It was difficult to tell.

"A trained sniper, hm?" He scoffed under his mask.

Ah, disdain then. 

"And what about your prior experiences?" he asked as he assessed me head to toe. The combination of his scrutiny and the questioning made it feel like I was under investigation, as if we were anything but from the same organization. Perhaps it's because I'm female? It wouldn't be the first time someone doubted my abilities solely for this reason.

It wasn't very pleasant to have to justify myself, but, as I felt I still wasn't off the hook completely, I eventually cleared my throat and answered again.

"I tried to join the police at first, but I enlisted in the army instead and served for some years before being recruited here."

König listened to my brief resume with an emotionless expression, though I could sense a hint of curiosity when his voice filled the room again.

"And what prevented you from joining the police?"

I could only meet König's gaze with a blank stare. He honed in on the one aspect I hoped he wouldn't, intensifying the irritation I was feeling over the entire situation. I looked away in an attempt to temper my now rising frustration, but his voice snapped back at me.

"Speak! I don't have all day."

"Sorry but this isn't relevant." I sharply replied. 

He stared right into my eyes, and I stared back, as if we're having some sort of a staring contest. The tension between us lingered with neither of us willing to address it. Again, his gaze revealed no emotions, offering no clues about his thoughts. 

And he abruptly shifted the subject, again.

"Well then, newbie… What about close-quarters combat? Do you know how to handle yourself?"

I pondered once more about what all this was about, but I eventually relaxed my jaw. A small smirk appeared on my lips, laden with all the bad omens it could carry. 

"I've been doing judo for a while, but tell me—is this some kind of interview? I would have printed my resume if I knew." I snickered.

He hummed as he slowly retrieved a small tablet from one of his cargo pockets. He tapped on it with quick, precise movements while I found myself studying his hands, wondering how he managed to use the compact device with such big fingers. My attention snapped back up when his thick German accent arose from beneath his black veil again.

"Indeed, your file says you are proficient in marksmanship and unarmed combat."

My eyes widened at the sudden mention of my 'file'. If he has access to my infos, what is he getting at?! I could only twitch my tongue in frustration, causing König to cast another assessing look my way.

"I want you in the gym in half an hour for a sparring match." he declared, allowing a moment of silence to let his words sink in.

"Against me."

—The fuck?! 

"Wha—But why?! The physical tests have already been done!" I protested, sounding more alarmed than what I would have liked to. 

I struggled to hold back the urge to enter panic mode, but that's it, I'm going to die—he’s going to fucking crush me. 

I stared at him putting his tablet back with eyes wide open, scanning for any signs this was just a bad dream I was having. He then looked back at my dumbfounded face, seemingly delighted by the panic oozing from every pore.

"Let me tell you this: I don't like your attitude, nor your refusal to disclose your antecedents. I'll see you in a bit."

And he just left me there, my mouth agape as a cold sweat ran down my spine. All I could hear was his echoing footsteps in the corridor before he left the building.

Well, I'm screwed.

[eeldritchblast]

Thoughts on Halsin

I want to preface this by saying I don't have anything particularly against Halsin as he is in game. But I do find him lacking in depth, when compared to everyone else.

Even without knowing that he was added as a full companion last minute, I would probably have guessed as much simply because there's not much to him beyond the role he plays in the Shadow-Curse quest of Act 2. This is lampshaded with dialogue about how he himself feels consumed by his determination to end the curse. But to me, that just feels like a cop-out. Imagine any other character looking at the camera and just saying "yeah I know I don't have much character beyond what happens to me in the plot, too bad?"

But I think the worst crime about his lack of development, is the fact that because he doesn't have a lot else going on, he feels a little overly sexualized to me; like he's just there for the player to thirst after because he's this big, bulky man. Now, to be clear, I don't care that he's horny, and I definitely don't care that he's poly. (My GF is a poly lesbian, and honestly I could see myself having more than one romantic relationship , too, if someone else was ever interested in me like that and cool with it.) What I'm trying to say is, because he's lacking in other areas, leaving those traits being of his few you can list, it makes them feel of less value, and makes him feel more like a sex prop. And if you're gonna have a character with rape victim as part of his background like Halsin has, then that's the last thing you want, I think.

So, what more could be done with Halsin?

I once made a joke that someone should draw Halsin in a "Big Auntie Energy" shirt. For those of you who aren't Native, let me try to translate: In most if not all Indigenous Nations, we often call women who are champions of our cultures and communities "Auntie", whether they are actually literally your aunt or not. An Auntie is someone you dearly love, and trust to guide you. Halsin already plays something of a mentor figure to the protagonist—indeed, dev notes even call him "avuncular"—so why not lean into it further by showing what he does for others, too? Pretending that there was more development time allotted, here's what I would've liked to see...

"This place crawls with life, but little of it flourishes. I see refugees, unhoused. The destitute, unwanted. Orphans, unloved. … I wish there was a better way. I wish everyone could see the sun, have a full belly, and know nature as a friend. There is a balance that is yet to be found." —Halsin

After ending the Shadow-Curse, Halsin says he needs to find a new purpose. I feel like his purpose could easily align with his horror of the inequalities of Baldur's Gate. Instead of just talking about how awful it is, why not allow the player to challenge him to try and change things, then? For example, I like to imagine Halsin telling stories to the orphans in Rivington, providing them comfort and someone to look up to. Or another example: Halsin helping out in or maybe starting some kind of charity meal program. It's small, but it's enough to say that he could actually grow a little as a person within the game's story. And it would add at least a little bit of engagement on the player's end as well, instead of feeling like the relationship with Halsin, platonically, is one-sided.

This all doesn't come from nowhere, by the way. If you exclusively romance Halsin, he says goodbye to the player in the end because he is leading a group of people into Thaniel's realm to start a new life. But personally, I feel like this is too great a leap back into an Archdruid role he specifically rejected, because he didn't like it. It also would've been nice to get this kind of dialogue without having to romance him; to know what lies ahead for Halsin as a friend, too.

Now, that's the good ending. But almost all the companions in BG3 have a "good" and "evil" ending. I feel like this really adds a lot of insight into the characters, because they feel real through it; we all have the potential to make good and bad choices, after all. So what could be Halsin's evil-aligned ending? Well, remember when he questions if the Shadow Druids actually have a point? How about giving the player the opportunity to push him further down that path instead... Shadow Druid Halsin, holy shit.

Now, there's one more thing I want to circle back to: Halsin's past. He very casually speaks of his time as a captive in the Underdark. And maybe it was so long ago that he's long dealt with such trauma, but still, I really wish there was a way to say "hey bud, that's really fucked up and I'm sorry that happened to you." But there's not a single dialogue option that allows you to express sympathy, besides just saying "that's awful", which doesn't cut it. Halsin himself says, "sometimes I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt." Not allowing the player to be sensitive to his feelings goes exactly against this message not to judge a person's emotions by physical appearances.

Anyway, Halsin is a character that I think has a lot of potential, but doesn't quite reach it in game. I think it's great that he was given a bigger role due to popularity, but I just wish that role was expanded on to the same degree as the other companions.

[dunedragon]

Finally played through all the BN games and 100% each one! I haven't had a chance to go complete the mirror versions yet, but I have finally experienced it all! Here's how I felt about each! (Opinion Ahead)

Battle Network 1: A very classic experience, great groundwork for lore, short, simple, and fun. To friends, I jokingly call it "Mt. Moon the video game" in terms of maps. If you aren't used to old RP dungeons then I can see this game getting irritating very quickly for people. I liked it a lot and want to revisit it again now that I've cleared the other games.

Battle Network 2: The most memorable experience due to how batshit the story was. Most of my "wild" BN examples come from this game, absolutely great. I remember absolutely NOTHING about the gameplay though. I do remember the cyberpunk background for the main town's internet and I'm sad they didn't do this in future games (or other areas in this game for that matter) it made the digital world feel like a world.

Battle Network 3 (Blue): My FAVORITE storyline game. This places it into the top game out of all 6 games for me. The post game has a lot of content, lots of lore, Hub REALLY gets to be apart of the story here, I love it. The downside is I found it the most difficult to 100% because it really challenges you up to where a lot of super post game time trials are just resetting for RNG. Not great.

Battle Network 4 (Red Sun): A SLOG. I think someone casually playing through the story and putting the game down would have a better time of it, but coming right after Battle Network 3, it was painful to play through once, let alone three times (or more for others who didn't have a google spreadsheet to help.) The upside is, the game is empty enough that 100% completing the game is pretty easy, just EXTREMELY time consuming and mindnumbing.

Battle Network 5 (Team Colonel): I didn't really like the darkchip storyline much, so that extended here as well. I found the story passable, much better than 4, but I wasn't really engaged. Gameplay wise though, I really enjoyed how the Liberation Missions challenged how I previously approached chip building. It really pushed me to learn how to build better decks, and since I was already familiar with tactic-style gameplay, I had a lot of fun. Tactics games aren't for everyone though, so I can definitely see how Liberation Missions alone can be a game ruiner for others.

Battle Network 6 (Gregar): Love the story. I love BN2's wild plot, but BN6's grounded plot is equally one of my favorites. What makes this game great is the gameplay is REALLY refined in this game. Every chip feels viable, there's so many ways to play. Fighting enemies feels great, though it can take a while for it to feel challenging. I love how every time I lost a fight, it didn't feel like I was cheated. I could see where I messed up and could try again to get better. While BN3 is my top story, this game has my top gameplay.

I think the biggest thing to note is I could feel a noticeable difference in tone between BN1-3 and BN4-6. While the last half of the games touched darker subjects, the tone felt lighter and and hopeful and the world was truly about Humans and Navis working together. The first 3 games told lighter stories, but the background world felt more dystopian through the lense of a 10 year old. There were small notes you'd catch a wiff of to tell the world isn't what it seemed, but in the dark there was a hopeful flicker of light for the future.

It makes sense, each half of the series has its own production story and lead writer. It's very interesting to look into. I can't say which is better, I think it really just depends on a person's tastes. It's interesting to see how many people differ on which game is their favorite, but I feel like a lot of it is because each game really brings something different to the table. I'm really thankful the Legacy Collection gave me a chance to get into these games.

[anticmiscellaney]

I absolutely adore your work! What's your process been like for writing NewOldRare and developing Neil and Louis? Your art and character writing feel so genuine and realistic to me, so I'm really curious how you go about it!

Thank you! I've always been obsessed with character-driven stories and interaction, so I guess this is the result of years of practice and observation, and dismantling stories that do and don't work to see why.

Unfortunately, there isn't a clear way to explain it. It's one of those "you know when you get it right" things, requiring an eye developed over a long time. I will redraw things if I don't feel like I've captured the nuance I wanted to, and a few months later I'll look at it and see where I could have done better. Same with writing. I'm obsessed with pacing and page design, I had a moment of "that's how I think about it too" when Will Eisner described comic panels like music.

The technical approach is I make notes about stories I want to write, then I expand that into outlines, then scripts, then thumbnails, then I draw the comics and colour them and finalise the dialogue. At every stage I'm asking myself if it feels right, if I'm getting across what I want to. That's not to say there aren't surprises and things don't develop organically, but every stage is an attempt to solve as many problems as I can before the next stage. My thumbnails are quite detailed because it makes pencils easier, and I spend a while on them.

I have total aphantasia so I am operating off feeling rather than any mental images. I have no idea how it works and no idea why I pursue this when I'm missing what many visual artists describe as a crucial component. I just do it and I have better things to do (art) than wonder about something I can't change. I don't think it's made me a better or worse artist, though I think it has given me different ways of approaching/developing things. But also, literally everything about you makes your work different to everyone else's work.

You need to care. If your character is into music, listen to that music. If they have an old car that keeps breaking down, read up on common problems for that model. If they work as a film projectionist, watch a training film about using the machine. The characters care about things, have things in their lives that matter, have skills and interests and challenges. If I don't care enough to understand them, why should anyone reading it care, and also why am I writing it if I don't care?

So I do, and in caring I understand them better. This helps me develop characters/story but it also gives me so much more to write/draw. Understanding how things work and how they are done from a physical standpoint makes writing/drawing them easier too. The more you put into your head, the more you can get out later. I'll do way less for a 12 page short than for a 300 page graphic novel, obviously. Pick your battles, a little can go a long way.

They tell artists to collect visual references - solid advice - but you should collect substance too. If you pay attention, you will hear and see things you could never in a million years make up.

I find online socialising difficult, so I go out regularly and talk to people, or just hang around and observe. Chatting with strangers mostly involves listening to them. No one in gay spaces is interested in flirting with me (I'm rather homely and queer men assume I'm straight) but I think an audience is just as appealing sometimes, and maybe even harder to find. You'd be amazed what people will tell you if you're genuinely interested and listening. I once spent forty minutes at a sci-fi con talking to a guy who'd recently gotten into fisting. While I have zero personal desire to partake in that activity (and he had no interest in being fisted by me), I'm engaged, I'm invested, I'm asking questions, spare no detail.

I collect behavior and movement and the ways people interact too. Reading stories on reddit or whatever is one thing, but the words might not be as interesting as the way they're standing, the way their hands move, the way they respond. A guy in a bar once literally humped my leg like a dog because he felt I wasn't paying enough attention to him. I would never think of that as a response to that situation, but he did, and he followed through. Fortunately my friend had just tried to drunkenly sit down and missed the chair, otherwise I would never hear the end of it.

I see the leghumper around sometimes, he's got a boyfriend and avoids making eye contact with me, thank god.

[izzyspussy]

So, if the dog motif is made into a more blatant metaphor, and we say Izzy is a dog bred for one thing, then trained for blood sport, then his owner suddenly quits dogfighting after becoming enamored with a newbie livestock rescue ranch owner and expects Izzy to immediately take to herding just because he tossed him in the enclosure with the sheep, and then the ranch owner gets cold feet and goes back to his high powered city businesswoman leaving the ranch and the sheep and Izzy's owner behind, and Izzy finally Gets herding and starts doing the job but only after the owner who had wanted him to in the first place has become the wolf/poacher/cliffdrop Izzy needs to protect his sheep from...

More info on these breed groups to help you pick which you think fits Izzy's personality best:

Herders* are easily distracted from tasks that aren't challenging enough but incredibly focused on activities that fit their instincts, attentive, energetic, sociable, eager to please, use barks and nips to make the animals in their charge move where they want (the inventors of "all bark no bite" - unless of course you are a predator in which case say goodbye to your carotid artery), and will do their jobs effectively with or without supervision. If you do not give them animals to herd, they will herd you. *I'm including livestock guardians here, as you might have sussed from the description, even though it's not their official classification. Personally, I think the instincts and (non-combat) temperaments are similar enough, and lots of breeds from both classes are often used for the other type of work or both. Listen, you're already humoring me, so just go with this too, okay? <3

Sporting dogs are not typically that sociable with other animals, have a very good memory, are devoted, loyal, eager to please, curious/adventurous, and resilient. They are highly trainable and can learn basically any trick or call, but will be anxious, distracted, and uncontrollable without clear and consistent direction.

Scent hounds, like the examples I listed, have exceptional stamina, endurance, and agility, are persistent, tenacious, and often will not quit even when told to until the job is done to their own satisfaction or they can't do it anymore. They are naturally gentle and patient, but can get loud and mean if they don't get enough alone time or breed appropriate work to do. They are also known for their pretty voices.

Working dogs are the type of smart and stubborn that makes them opinionated about the rules and commands they're given, to the point that they might choose to purposefully disobey, or even engage in malicious compliance. They are highly trainable and devoted, but they really make you earn their obedience and loyalty. If you are not at least as smart, competent, and confident as they are, you can't handle them - and they are not afraid to prove it.

Terriers are also smart and stubborn and will make you earn good behavior. They need consistency and are very territorial, very energetic, and equally persistent and unwilling to quit as hounds. They don't have a lot of patience and are emotionally/mentally sensitive, easy to frustrate or upset.

Companions are also territorial, intensely loyal, need a lot of attention and are likely to get jealous of other pets, babies, and new friends/partners. They don't have a lot of self-awareness, especially regarding their size (i.e. very large breeds that think they are lap dogs & very small breeds that will try to start something with much bigger animals). Maybe that last bit is more applicable to Con than Izzy lmao.