#hoarding all the talent for themselves

[melancholytimes]

I just might faint

[shallyouobeyme]

Fortune

Platonic Yander Malfoy!Family x Dragon!reader (GN)

Summary: A long time ago there lived a species of dragon-hybrids with magical gifts. You - one of these hybrids - had the gift of bringing good fortune to whoever was close to you, but as you'd soon learn, using your gift to help others would only endanger you...

! Minors do not interact !

TW: Not Canon Complainant about the Malfoy's backstory, imprisonment, manipulation, kidnapping, infantilisation (kinda), I do not condone this - this is all fiction

One or two Centuries ago, when muggles still believed in magic and fantastical creatures roamed the earth almost freely, many more kinds of species lived in nature. Some of them were closely related to creatures still on this planet in the present. One example of such a case was a kind of dragon that had long since left the face of the earth, one that shared many similarities with the humans around it. In fact, these dragons had the ability to shift from their full dragon form to that of a bipedal, humanoid dragon-person hybrid. Further than their ability to shift though was their ability to innately use magic.

Now, their abilities were not like the abilities of wizards and witches who could put their magic into words and gestures, using their magic as a medium to achieve many different goals. Instead, they tended to be born with a specific magical talent that differed from case to case - some could control different elements (since these dragons did not naturally have the ability to breathe fire or water), some could communicate with nature, some changed the weather, and others could use their scales to make themselves invisible to any living and dead being.

One of these dragons, still a young fetchling when this story began had a rare and sought-after ability - the ability to attract fortune. Something every dragon with a knack for hoarding (so almost all) would kill for, which was why the little dragon-hybrid was told from a very young age to keep hidden from creatures that would use them and their powers for their own gain. This young dragon was you - and often, when you now fell asleep, you still dreamt of the night that would turn out to be the one to doom your entire life.

You had barely just started to fly without your parent's supervision and after being kept at home for your entire (short) life in hopes that no one would try to use you, your curiosity for real life and everything beyond the mountain you called home grew restless. So you did what any curious child with the ability to fly would do and you took off to where you knew the nearest village to be. You landed a few miles away from it, well aware that your parents would be furious beyond belief if you went into town and let your existence be known to humans. After all, your parents always did make a point of mentioning just how greedy and selfish humans tended to be.

You were a fool to not believe them. You were in your humanoid form - comparable with a human child of about eight or nine years - as you stepped into a clearing. The sound of sobbing echoed through the trees around you and your eyes fell onto a form hunched onto the floor in sobs. They looked similar to you, but a lot smoother, and without any horns or wings protruding out of their back. Honestly, they looked really strange, but your parents had described something similar to what you were seeing and they had said that these smooth wingless things were humans. Obviously, you were intrigued.

"Why are you crying?" you asked in your young, squeaky voice and the human jumped up, turning to look at you in shock. Their eyes widened even further at your appearance, but they seemed too shaken to properly realize what was going on.

"You-You're a - You're a dragon?" they finally stuttered out, their tears long forgotten. You couldn't help but giggle, of course, you were a dragon, what else were you supposed to be?

"Yes I am, and you're a human, right?" you asked and they only responded by nodding, "then why were you crying, human?"

"I-" They seemed to question their reality for a second, probably wondering if they should tell a random little dragon-hybrid their sorrows, but they responded nonetheless, "My mother... She's very ill and I don't have the money to buy the medicine she needs, I fear that she'll pass away soon and then I will be all alone in the world."

As their tears build up again, you feel yourself sympathize with the human. Sure, you had your parents, but they were travelling all of the time, leaving you to your own devices and even your siblings had been allowed to leave the nest and make a way of their own, it was just you who was kept alone in the cave under the pretence of protection. So you very well knew how it felt to be alone, to be lonely. And so you knew that if you could do something against someone else feeling like that, then you would.

"I can help you!" you exclaimed excitedly at the thought of doing something good.

"What? How?" the human - you decided that if humans were at all similar to your own kin then they must have been a man - asked, completely perplexed as you walked towards him, stopping just a step away.

"It's my gift, I can bring fortune to people, I can help you make the money you need for the medicine," you were smiling brightly now, but the human still seemed confused. 'How,' he just asked and you told him to kneel down. Usually, your presence alone was enough to attract riches and riches beyond most people's dreams, but you knew that if you wanted to help someone attract fortune without being near them, you had to use a different tactic. And so, once the man had knelt down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and a shimmer of silver light sparkled over his face - the same silver of your scales.

After that you left for home, but before you could take off the human called out to you: "What's your name? Will I see you again?"

"I'm Y/N - and I don't know, I hope so," you responded as you took flight and the last thing they shouted to you before the distance was too large to hear them was that their name was Layton Malfoy.

After that, you used every chance you had to fly to that clearing where Layton was usually already waiting for you - he'd tell you all these amazing stories of his life and he'd entertain you, trying to be your best friend. At least you thought that was all he wanted. What you didn't realize was that slowly but surely he was trying to keep you by his side longer and longer, always finding another reason as to why you should stay, telling you how your parents were using you, about how they weren't these amazing dragons that you thought them to be. And maybe because you were just a lonely child who was just desperate for the attention or maybe because Layton was your first friend and you didn't believe friends would lie to each other, you believed him. And so after he kept telling you all these things about how he was the one who would actually protect you, about how he'd finally let you live a normal life, you left the clearing with him towards his home town - thinking about how you'd return home one day and tell your parents about how wrong they were about humans and about all the great things you lived through.

You never returned home though, in fact, you never saw your parents again. Decades later - you were now comparable to a human teenager - Layton's grandchildren had told you that the dragon-hybrids had been declared extinct after they had been hunted for their powers and their horns. The Malfoy heir told you that he was so happy that his grandfather had 'taken you in' and how the entire family just felt thankful that you hadn't been hunted as well. He elected to ignore the fact that you were shackled to a wall in a secret Cellar below their large estate - possible only because they had you locked away to attract them money,.

After finding out about the cruel fate of your kin, you shifted into your dragon form attempting to not give the Malfoy any sense of result by responding to them or even just paying attention to them. You rolled into yourself, closed your eyes and stopped things but eat, drink and sleep. No matter how often the ever-evolving generations of Malfoys tried to get you to interact with them, you just stayed silent. Honestly, you were surprised that after decades of silence, they still tried to talk to you - wasn't your presence in their cellar enough? You were still attracting fortune for them, what more did they want? Over the years they tried to get you out of your shell by decorating your cellar with numerous pillows and blankets and things that dragons loved in their hord. Your Chamber probably had more money, jewels and riches in it than their bank account. And yet, as much as you secretly appreciated your new horde, you stayed silent.

At least until a new Malfoy was born and old enough to come down to you on his own. Lucius was just a child when he saw you for the first time lying curled into yourself in your pile of riches and pillows and blankets, but even he could see the sadness in your form. And so he tried to talk to you, but like his parents and grandparents had told him, the dragon in their cellar did not talk. But he didn't stop, he told you about how he thought the family had enough money already, about how he thought they should let you free and how you'd be able to breathe fresh air again once he became the patriarch of the family. Maybe it was the earnestness in his voice or the fact that he reminded you of yourself when you were a hatchling, still trusting in the world around you, but you caved and you shifted for the first time in what must have been over 100 years.

It was safe to say Lucius was ecstatic and the two of you soon became close. You talked to him and him only, and he enjoyed it immensely. He tried to spend as much time as possible down with you and was so close to you that you actually let him nap with you in your horde (he always got to lie on the parts with lots of pillows and blankets, because you knew humans were a lot more sensitive than you). And as he grew older you tried to remind him of his promise and at first he agreed, but the older he grew the more unsure he seemed. Still, he agreed - probably knowing that you'd stop your friendship with him once you realized that he didn't intend to keep his promise anymore.

It was only once he came down, dressed all in black, now an adult with his own child, telling you that his father Abraxas had passed because of a case of Dragon Pox - a cruel wink of fate as you couldn't help but think - that you excitedly ran towards the bars of your cage, believing that you'd finally be let out of this horrible prison. Only that Lucius didn't open the door. 'Why?' you asked him, silver streaks of tears streaming down your cheeks, 'Don't you have enough Fortune? Is the money really worth it?'.

"It was never about the money, at least not for me if it was just that I would let you go in a heartbeat, but I know that the second I let you out you'll be gone. You'll leave me behind, here without you, and I don't think I can do that Y/N. I need to know that you're here, safe, where I always know you're well cared for. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me - even if I'm not there to experience it."

That was the day you realized that Lucius and Narcissa - and after his son Draco as well - would never let you go. They did try to make your living 'situation' more comfortable, changing out the bars to your cave with an actual door after putting enough spells on you to keep you from ever leaving the premises of their mansion, keeping you from kind of violence against them and keeping alerting them should you ever be in any kind of distress or danger. Soon they had integrated you into their everyday life, treating you like a child to be protected and not like you've had lived longer than they could ever imagine. Even Draco - who grew up with you as a constant in his life - developed the same sense of protectiveness that his parents had, as if he wasn't a literal child, and when it was time for him to leave for Hogwarts he insisted you writing him at least once a week, because otherwise he was sure he'd go insane with worry (at least that was what he said).

And so, while for a few decades, you had actually thought freedom was close, you soon realized that you had just switched one prison against a slightly more glamorous one - and it seemed that as long as there were Malfoys, you'd never be able to escape it.

A/N: This is based on another great idea by @sol565 so I wanna give them a big thanks and a big shoutout ❤️❤️❤️

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Things Enver does as a Father:

When their oldest was four, he started to understand what explosives were, so Enver spent three days teaching him how to make fire powder because, "What's the harm? He can't reach the shelf with the ingredients. So he'll never make them without my supervision." He may not have been able to reach the shelf, but that cunning toddler learned how to climb into chairs really fast after that.

When their children started being interested in tea parties, Enver gifted their children a sturdy but beautiful silver tea set. They couldn't brew the tea themselves, nor could they bake their own pastries to go with it, but Enver instructed their servants to fill the teapot with a caffeine free tea anytime the children asked. The trays of croissants and cookies were, of course, also provided.

When Enver joined those tea parties, he used it as a time to test his children's leadership abilities. He asked them how they planned on handling fake issues in the kingdom. Often, he assigned names to fake groups of people, inventing far off countries that sent either banes or boons to their doorstep. "What shall we do about all these refugees?" "The crops from the west fields have failed. Shall we attempt to grow more before harvest, or should we depend upon our reserves?" "Two different political factions are at each other's throats. One is the farmer's guild, and one is the merchant's guild. Who should we side with?" "There's only room in this year's budget to donate to the orphanages, or the trade school programs in the Lower City. Who do we support?" His children sometimes waved his questions off, wanting only to eat the snacks and play games, but sometimes they paid attention. Sometimes they even gave insightful solutions to these problems that were simultaneously fake and yet very real. Enver was always careful to nurture any of his children that showed promise in these matters

Of course, some of his children simply weren't suited for positions of higher leadership, which was fine. He loved his children all dearly, and loving them meant meeting them where they were and accepting who they were. His children that weren't leadership material had other talents. Archery, swordsmanship, art, dance, and more. His youngest daughter, the middle child of the family, actually had a knack for making friends and organizing events. While it wasn't something most would consider a highly prized skill, in her teenage years she turned it into a passion for charity work, especially with orphans and refugees. Something that he made sure the newspapers always reported on. Why not make sure the public viewed him and his family in a favorable light with the candle of his child's charity cases?

One of his children showed a knack for archery at a young age, and Enver wasted no time in designing moving targets for her to sharpen her skills with. His wife introduced their little prodigy to that vampire friend of hers, and soon his daughter was sneaking around the castle with a bow and quiver full of enchanted arrows. The servants only complained a little.

His brood grew in number until he was often walking around the city with a gaggle of eight children at his heels, looking every bit like a proud father goose. His youngest was almost always in his arms, a young boy with chubby cheeks and his father's grin. The public went wild with love for the sight of his hoard of children, calling them the Pride of the Gate. His wife insisted nicknames didn't count if he ordered the press to call them that, but Enver disagreed.

Enver was a firm believer in raising his children with an iron fist. Not in anyway did that mean physical punishment, of course. He detested the thought. But his children had a busy routine of tutors, governesses, coaches, and many extra curriculars from very young ages. His wife was often worried they were expecting too much from them, but Enver was always quick to remind her that they lived in a cruel world, and their children needed to be ready for that. His children were loved, but not coddled.

And as Enver grew older, he felt comfortable delegating more and more tasks to his children. Until finally, at the age of fifty seven with the entire sword coast under his iron fist, he named his heir, split up responsibilities among his other children to ensure there would be no infighting, and retired with his wife to a nice little castle in the upper city. Somewhere close enough to help should his clan require it, but far enough that he and his lovely wife could relax in their old age. He loved spending his mornings sitting on the balcony and having breakfast with her while he read the paper. His middle child, the charity worker, had taken over propaganda, and she was quite skilled at it. He would chuckle with his wife over humorous tidbits from his children's accomplishments.

And of course, then there came grandchildren. Little heathens running around his home, always so happy to visit "Grandma's House". Enver often rolled his eyes at the title of his castle. "I bought the damned thing." He complained to his eldest son one day. His son laughed at him, "Father, don't pout. They may call it her house, but they're always talking about wanting to see your inventions, play with your magic items, and um... Steal your shoes." Enver sighed at that. "None of you ever inherited my glorious fashion sense, and I regret that every day... Maybe one more child-" his wife interrupted them, "No."

[maple-the-awesome]

When Another Finds Out About His Crush Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: What happens when someone else in the Chain finds out about his feelings towards you?

 Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

How is it that today has been so peaceful? Seriously, when was the last time the group got a chance to breathe for a second, let alone actually take a moment to enjoy themselves like normal Hylians who don't have to constantly deal with the weight of the world upon their shoulders?

Maybe it's because of the last battle which left most of them pretty battered - too battered to dive head first back into another hoard of monsters right away. Perhaps the Old Man finally got tired of their constant whining and bickering which had grown in volume over the course of the last few days, leading him to pacify them with a quick break. It's probably a combination of those two things, but whatever the true reasoning for this blessing, Four plans to enjoy it - at least he's trying his best to.

He won't complain. It's nice getting to sit here in the sun, enjoying its warm beams that pair sweetly with the cool breeze that carries itself up from the spring where the majority of his traveling partners currently splash around, their joyful cheers making all sound right with the world. Of course, this scene of an early summer would be so much better if not broken every few seconds by Four's sneezing.

His nose is probably red and eyes possibly a bit puffy, but he tries not to care. He's too focused - too distracted with the many thoughts running through his head to begin fussing over some mild allergies.

'Loop over that...Now tie here...' 

'Maybe we should've chosen different flowers -'

'- No. We can't admit defeat to a stupid flower. We're seeing this through, damn it!'

'I wasn't suggesting that we give up. Only that we reevaluate our clearly flawed plan. This field is filled with flowers. We can take our pick.'

'Ooo, I like the poppies over there! Let's use those!'

'No! Poppies aren't good enough. Must I remind you why we're using daisies in the first place?!'

Four sighs heavily, his hands collapsing to his lap. The tangled flowers resting in his touch are a pathetic excuse for a 'craft'. If anything, they look no different from flowers that have been tugged from the ground then tossed around in a bag for a few shakes. It's rather shameful considering how long the minish took to teach him the careful art of weaving flower stems together. Are some watching him now, shaking their heads in confusion as to how someone can be struggling to this extent? Of course, it would be easier if he switched to practically any flower other than daisies, but he's committed to seeing this through as is, no changes. 

Four's harsh thoughts only break away temporarily when noticing the wolf that saunters through the meadow towards him, likely chased away from the cold shadows that have begun casting over his former resting place closer to the spring. Over here in the sun it’s much warmer, so there’s no surprise when the wolf invites himself to sit next to Four, giving a curious look to the flowers on his lap that asks the question without words being needed.

"I'm trying to make a crown," Four answers, lifting the string of stems up with one finger to let the wolf get a closer look which he does by leaning forward and taking a sniff. To him, the craft is impressive, looking far more detailed and put together compared to the flower crowns he's personally made with the children of his village, although it's clear that the Smith is having trouble accepting his own talent by the way he leans his cheek against the palm of his hand with a huff.

"Normally I can make them pretty quickly with fewer mistakes or tears in the stems and petals, but today I just can't get it right. No matter how many times I attempt one, it never looks good enough," Four explains further, his words drawing Wolfie's eyes to the several drafted flower crowns abandoned off to the hero's side. Then suddenly, the wolf's attention is drawn back to Four with a start when he sneezes loudly. 

Sniffing, he gives the slightly startled animal a pitiful look, "...Oh, and it doesn't help that I'm allergic to daisies..."

Wolfie tilts his head to the patch of poppies growing no more than two feet away from them.

"No, I can't...Daisies are easiest to make flower crowns with. They, um, have longer stems."

Woflie tilts his head further, showing doubt over Four's claim, yet in this form, it's not like he can truly call him out. All he can do is make himself comfortable, lying down among the tall grass where he can bare witness to the poor smith's torture as he goes back to weaving flowers into a circle, the only interruption to the silence between them being his repetitive sneezes and eventually a pair of footsteps approaching from the spring.

"Hey, we're missing you down at the water! Whatcha doing all the way up here by your lonesome?" It's no surprise that you're wearing a smile - Alright, it might've been a surprise a few hours ago when all you did was scowl or pout about your aching feet, but ever since Time allowed the group a break, you've been nothing but smiles and rainbows, a look Four prefers on you due to how contagious your enjoy never fails to be.

Immediately upon looking up, a smile pulls at his own lips and all of his muddled thoughts wash away into one. Even his voice is light as a feather without giving you any hint to his prior irritation; a complete contrast to how he had been seconds ago when Wolfie first joined him, "I'm not the biggest swimmer and even if I were, that scream Sky gave when jumping in was enough to convince me of my decision to stay up here."

"Yeah, it's ice water, but hey, anything beats sore feet at this point," You place your hands on your hips with a chuckle, sparing a quick glance back at the rest of the boys before your attention returns to Four, "Making flower crowns, I see?"

He nods, fiddling with the one in his hand which he seems to stare at for some time (truly it was only a few seconds for anyone except himself) before he holds the craft up towards you, "...I thought you'd like one."

"Really? For me?" The bashful smile he wears is easily missed as you awe over the flowers, delicately running your fingers over each petal. Like Wolfie, you see none of the flaws Four concerns himself with. Instead, you see a beautiful collection of near perfect daisies (only a few petals missing here and there) all weaved together in a strong pattern that keeps them from falling apart, "Oh, this is incredible…Wow, you truly are a talent to behold, aren’t you Smithy?"

He officially blushes, rubbing the back of his head with a wide smile he tries to maintain, "I can't take all the credit. I learned from the minish."

"You're too modest," You shake your head in mock annoyance, although the delight in your eyes never fades as you look over the flowers some more, "You know, daisies are actually my favorite, too."

"You don't say," Four picks at the petals on his lap, trying to act as casual as possible, "What a coincidence..."

You open your mouth to say something else, however you don't get the chance when a shout is suddenly heard from the spring followed by a loud splash. Four would've been curious to see what the commotion was, but he's currently in too much of a daze to follow where Wolfie and you look. Surely it's not that important judging on your calm sigh anyways. 

"Aaand I'm pretty sure that's the sound of Vet drowning the Captain. Seeing as I would like Time to keep giving us breaks in the future, I should probably go handle everything before he comes back," As disappointed as Four is to hear you’ll be leaving him so soon, he forgets all about that feeling when you place your flower crown on top of his head, your hands hovering there as you give him a gentle smile. He could’ve sworn he even felt your breath blow against his face given your close proximity, but maybe that was just the optimistic side of him, "Keep this safe for me, please? I’d hate for your hard work to get ruined."

"Uhhh...Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'll protect it with my life."

"Thanks. Now if you two will excuse me…" After patting Wolfie’s head goodbye and winking to them both, you race back down to the spring, shouting something to the other boys with a fierce tone that is the exact opposite to how sweetly you always speak to Four. He might've had a little nerve to either fear you or admire your anger (which can be kinda hot), although he merely sighs lovingly in distracted thought he only leaves when happening to catch that knowing stare Wolfie is giving him in the corner of his eyes. Now, wolf or not, Four can once again understand exactly what that type of smug look means without words.

Pushing Wolfie away halfheartedly, he huffs, "Don't say anything and we'll be even."

"Do you think you could teach me how to cook this dish?"

Pour Four nearly chokes on his own spit when the question meets his ears. Teach Hyrule to cook? Now he knows all of his fellow heroes come equipped with many talents, but surely there's a line to be drawn! 

Of course, Wild has a much milder reaction to this 'challenge', in fact, he's actually happy to be granted something to do seeing as he's been grounded to camp after his latest 'stunt', as Twilight referred to it. So, raising his attention up from the supplies he’s been taking inventory of, he glances over the wobbly handwriting on the paper that Hyrule holds out towards him, the Traveler trying not to look either too hopeful or too nervous.

"...I mean, I'm willing to teach you to cook, but are you sure you want this recipe? It’s not intended for beginners...Not to mention we might not have all the ingredients..." Taking the paper into his own hands and whispering to himself in thought distracts him from Hyrule's gulp, "We might be better off trying something else -"

"- No!" Hyrule bites his lip when Four and Wild's gazes jump to him, clearly surprised by his tone. Shifting on his feet, Hyrule tries to clear his throat as a poor attempt at acting 'natural', "I, uh, would really like to try this recipe. It sounded pretty good when the baker explained it, plus we've been traveling for so long and it's not everyday that we get to try something like it - Oh! And I already have all the ingredients. 'bought them in the last town we went to."

Hyrule hopes he isn’t coming off as too pushy or, in the worst case scenario, desperate. This plan is nerve wracking as it is, thus the last thing he needs is anyone asking questions, after all, he already had a close call when you caught him leaving that bakery during your stay in town.

When you saw him leave without buying anything, you assumed he was being rupee-cautious and offered to buy him something sweet if that was what his heart desired. You’re kind like that, always keeping an eye on him and doing your best to hype him up as being just as worthy of the hero’s title as everyone else. That’s why he couldn’t possibly have told you then that you’re what his heart desires most. No, that would’ve been too weird and cliche, even he knows that. You deserve a better confession (whenever he finds the courage for that), but in the meantime, he can at least show you his gratitude through gifts which is why he currently stands here mentally praying for Wild’s help; he’s his only hope at this point!

The Champion looks inside the pouch Hyrule had quite literally tossed at him, the Smith also sneaking a peek from over his shoulder. Comparing the written ingredients to those in the pouch, they confirm that everything is there (surprisingly no weird foods that Hyrule somehow manages to find).

"...Well, the Traveler's right about one thing: we don't usually get a chance to eat sweets on the road, not to mention everyone's been a bit stressed since our last battle. Maybe a treat would be a good way to lift spirits," Four suggests, although the words feel as if they must be pushed through his teeth. Already, his stomach tosses and turns in memory of the last 'dish' Hyrule made which resulted in seven of the ten heroes getting food poisoning and Hyrule receiving a permanent ban from the kitchen ever since.

Wild hums in thought then, to Hyrule's joy, nods and hands him back the recipe, "Alright. Let's get started."

Thinking back to it now, the request seemed so easy to him. Unlike the others who usually see their lives flash before their eyes at the thought of Hyrule's cooking, Wild has actually enjoyed most of his meals including the one that made nearly everyone sick, his only complaint being the need for less salt (a critique that was drowned by out Wind's over the top gagging). With that said, he saw no issue with helping the Traveler complete the desired recipe, however it's always possible for someone to come around to reason, it just took a lot of smoke and heaving, but come around nevertheless.

One minute everything was cooking as it should with a wonderful aroma filling the camp. All Wild did was turn his back. It was only seconds - that's it, seconds - before the cooking pot exploded into a puff of smoke and sparks. Since then, it's been utter havoc which is normally the word everyone else uses whenever Wild and Hyrule get paired, but today, Wild's admitting it himself. Is this usually how stressed Twilight feels?! If so, then he's sorry! He doesn't have time to actually apologize and will most likely forget by the time he sees his mentor again, but dear Hylia, he's sorry!

It's by the grace of the goddesses that no one comes running back to camp to find the scene that would await them if they did: Wild and Hyrule working together to frantically stomp out the flames before they reach any supplies or burn down the entire forest. Even then, evidence of their crimes remains in the form of charred grass and the coat of soot that covers Hyrule's face, stretching his bangs to the sky as his eyes carry a certain daze to them. Maybe now that he's literally had his work blow in his face, he can finally admit that his cooking might not be the best in the group's.

"What did you do?!" 

"I didn't do anything!" Hyrule meets Wild's shout, however he soon falters and pokes his fingers together innocently with a mumble, "...I thought you said that monster parts can give dishes effects..."

“Yeah, some…” Wild's face drops, his eyes wide with realization yet he still finds himself asking with a hint of fear to his voice, "What did you add?"

"..."

"Please don't tell me..."

"...Red chuchu jelly..."

"Dear Hylia!"

"I was curious to see what effect it would have!"

“It blows up! That’s the effect it has!”

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?"

Oh Goddesses, please kill him now...Hyrule had hoped if anyone, it would be the Old Man or maybe even the Captain who came running back to scold them, but you? Oh, you’re the last person he wanted to see this!

To be fair, you still aren't as bad as one of the stricter adults who would’ve immediately accessed the situation and started handing out punishments.  Instead, you plan to let them plead their case. Actually, you don't even look that angry, mainly confused and tired as you stand at the edge of camp, arms crossed with an expression that's anything except amused (probably because you had the unfortunate fate of being one of the seven who got food poisoning from Hyrule's last ‘cooking’ attempt).

Before either boy can begin explaining themselves, you sniff the air and immediately scrunch your nose as a reaction to the awful smell that burns it. Hyrule swears you even gag, although it's hard to tell because of how fast you shoot a hand up to cover the whole lower part of your face.

"What in Hylia's name were you trying to make? It smells like bokoblin guts!"

Hyrule shrinks even further into his embarrassment, "...It was supposed to be a fruit cake..."

"A fruit cake?"

"Hyrule wanted to learn how to cook and had the recipe for one. It just...didn't go as planned," Wild rubs the back of his neck, sparing a pitiful glance at the smoldering gunk that sticks to the cooking pot. It'll be a pain to clean later, that's for sure.

"Obviously,” You roll your eyes followed by a frown as you look to the cooking pot yourself with more sympathy than pity, "...But it’s a shame. I love fruit cake."

Wild blinks, his eyes shifting from you to Hyrule as the gears inside his head begin to turn. Meanwhile Hyrule tries to clear away the soot from his face with a quick drag of his sleeve, however he only makes matters worse by smearing it, "I'm sorry. I really wanted it to turn out right for you, but…I guess I should’ve just bought a cake at that bakery, huh? …I’m not cut out for cooking myself…”

Your frown remains as does that look of sympathy. Stepping forward, you take your canteen from your hip and dump a little water over the very edge of your cloak. By the time it's properly soaked, you're standing in front of Hyrule and using the cloth to wipe away the scoot from his face. Your attempts are far more successful than his, getting most of the gray off at the cost of your clock taking on the shade itself, not that you show any care.

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it some day, 'rule. It's something that requires practice and patience. After all, I'm sure Wild wasn't as good of a cook from the start as he is now.”

"Umm -"

"- Shush." 

And with that, Wild immediately puts his hand down with a pout.

"Start out with some simple dishes first, then whenever you get the basic skills of cooking down, I'll teach you how to properly make fruit cake. How about that?" 

Hyrule's eyes nearly sparkle at the offer. Sure, Wild is his partner in crime when it comes to getting into unnecessary trouble, however he'd much rather have you as his cooking partner (and maybe his partner in everything else, too, if he can one day get that far). That's likely why he nods too quickly, his bangs still being stuck upright which prevents them from bobbing with the movement for once. 

You chuckle at his excitement and go to leave camp to return to whatever you had been doing before, although you do stop to ruffle his hair, reminding him to wash it when he gets a chance (words he doesn't hear because he’s too busy obsessing over the feeling of your hand running through his hair).

"You know -" Hyrule jolts out of his trance, cheeks red at the realization that he had forgotten all about Wild who stands with most his wait shifted to the side, arms crossed and a smirk pulling at his lips, "- Usually when you like someone, the best thing to do is to try not poisoning them."

"I-I wasn't - That's not what I -"

"- We still have some ingredients left over. Let's start from the top," Wild merely shakes off Hyrule’s rambling, something the Traveler is thankful for as he begins to trail after his friend back to the cooking pot, however he stops dead in his tracks when Wild suddenly spins around to point a wooden spoon at him, "BUT, no more adding anything that isn't in the recipe when I turn my back or else I'm warning (Y/n) that they'll have to be doing all the cooking in your relationship…Hylia knows I can’t afford getting in trouble again with Twilight...”

Hyrule gulps and nods more timidly than he had with you, "W-Will do."

This was a mistake and the worst part is that Legend knew it before he even committed to the decision. He knew it would be a bad idea to 'invite' nine others into his home, even if it was to be a temporary trip, yet he opened the doors to mayhem anyway. 

He blames his own tiredness, if anything. He didn't really feel like presenting a good argument as to why everyone should remain outside, which would've been especially difficult to pull off given the blazing sun above. No one wanted to just ‘wait outside’, not when their curiosity was overflowing at the thought of all the cool things the Vet must be hiding inside his home. So ever so foolishly, he let them in, underestimating the exact extent of annoyance he'd be instantly cursing himself with.

"Don't touch that!"

"Get away from there!"

"Hey, those are delicate! Put them down!"

"No, I am not playing any music! I'm just here to switch out my weapons. Just - STOP SHIFTING THROUGH MY STUFF! HAVEN’T YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING CALLED ‘PRIVACY’?!"

"...You can borrow that if you want."

Surely some of the heroes snapped their necks by how quickly they turned towards Legend, surprised to hear him speak in a tone not laced with vexation nor raised in a shout. Actually, his words are rather soft - soft for him, at least. 

Even you're surprised, although it's not for the same reason as the others. Hearing the Vet's voice behind you, you practically leaped out of your skin and prepared yourself for the same harsh scolding as everyone else has received, so it takes you a second to process what he had really said instead. 

You blink once then twice (the rest of the group does, too) before glancing down at the ring you have pinched between your fingers. There's a small chest filled with them in front of you, each somehow different from the other whether that's because of the color of the band or the types of gems decorating them. Of course, you only planned on looking over them with your eyes, not wanting to disrespect Legend's privacy (and not wanting to be shouted at either), but that was before one ring in particular caught your eye. Your interest couldn't be tamed at that point, leading you to pick up the piece of jewelry for closer inspection which lands you in your current situation.

Turning to face Legend, who only boredly glances at the ring in your hand before going back to his own business, you open your mouth to say something - perhaps ask if he's serious because you most definitely misheard, right? He's going to let you borrow something of his? After getting so peeved about everyone else simply touching his stuff? You aim to be safe and confirm permission, yet the question doesn't have a chance to leave your lips before someone else beats you to it:

"What?! How come they get to take something? I wanna ring!" It's Wind and his objection makes sense seeing as he had just been looking over the same jewelry box moments ago only for Legend to swat his hands away. He isn't the only one to see the hypocrisy either.

"Can I borrow this?" Wild asks, holding up a boomerang with a hopeful smile that nearly distracts from the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"No, you can't!" Legend hisses, quick to rip his tornado rod out of Warrior's hands while he's at it much to the Captain's offense.

"Oh come on! What makes (Y/n) so special, eh?!"

"They're responsible," Legend dismisses stubbornly with a wave of his hand as he turns his back to them again. The others merely roll their eyes in annoyance, Warrior mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'simp' much to Legend's frustration, but before he can bite back, he mostly forgets all about them when you finally get a chance to speak up for yourself.

"You're sure it's no trouble?"

Legends fears he might have stared at you a bit too long - not that you would've noticed seeing as you keep your eyes focused on the ring you fiddle with. Despite how much you try to act neutral as to not get your hopes up, there's a giddy joy to your eyes at the thought of getting to keep this ring even if just for a little while, after all, it's so beautifully crafted and the red rubies attached to the golden band remind you of Legend in a way you'd prefer not to explain in front of everyone else, let alone with him present.

"...Yeah, it's no problem," He looks away quickly, blowing some air which fixes his bangs out of his view. If anyone were to spend more time studying his behavior (Hylia forbid it), they might notice how awfully red his face has suddenly gotten, "...Just don't lose it."

Truthfully, he doesn't care. If it were just the two of you, he'd actually tell you to keep it since he has plenty of rings anyways, not to mention it would give him some peace of mind for you to always have a protection ring handy, but he can't risk saying that here. The others are already questioning him too much and the last thing he needs is either Wild or Warrior picking up on the hint. Maybe he’ll just wait for when you try to return the ring so that he can play it off better by simply pushing it back towards you and giving some excuse like ‘I didn’t even miss it’ or ‘I actually don’t need any more junk now that I think about it’. You wouldn’t suspect a thing then nor would anyone who overhears. 

"Thank you! I promise to take really good care of it!" At last, you take no shame in letting your delight show and waste no more time sliding the ring over your finger. 

Legend just nods, burning through all of his willpower to not keep stealing glances your way. Fortunately, it doesn't take him much longer to locate the weapons of his desire, allowing him to finally herd everyone out of his house while continuing to deny their requests to borrow some items for themselves. Hyrule is the last straggler, something Legend originally wouldn't have thought much of since the Traveler isn't one to usually cause him trouble, although there's a first time for everything as it would seem.

"Congrats on the engagement," It's such a smug comment to come from someone who looks nothing but innocent as he saunters by, in fact it takes Legend's brain several seconds of spinning before he understands the implication and with it, his confusion instantly melts into a mix of fury and embarrassment (which one is at the head could be anyone's guess).

"T-They asked and I have plenty of rings, so there was no point in me turning them down! It's not an 'engagement'!"

Hyrule merely chuckles in the face of Legend's anger, "Don't worry. I won't say anything."

Legend huffs, taking it upon himself to push Hyrule towards the exit so that he can sooner leave this mess behind, however before he can begin to feel too comfortable, the Traveler speaks up again while casually picking up a gauntlet off the nearby table Legend leads them by, "This is cool.”

Legend glares; a deadly look Hyrule once again meets with too much innocence - mocked innocence, the Vet is now convinced - nothing but an act!

"You know, it would be a shame if someone like Warrior or Wild realized why you only do nice things for (Y/n). If they connect the dots for themselves -"

"- You can borrow it," Legend cuts Hyrule off in a hurry, pushing the gauntlet into his hands while shoving him out the door, "But I want it back in one week, you hear? That's all the time you've bought yourself with, you rat!"

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 4th: Rejection | Arsonist’s Lullaby - Hozier | Lost a/n: pre-steddie post-s4, angst with soft, happy ending because I'm a marshmallow. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. 

That’s it. There are other hobbies, of course, other things that bring him joy– D&D, fantasy novels, art– but ever since he was a kid, whenever a teacher would ask what he wants to be when he grows up, it’s always the same answer. 

I wanna play music. 

As a kid, it seems less daunting. He just has to practice, he just has to play, he just has to have the passion to make it big. To be the next Kirk Hammett, or Eddie Van Halen, or Ozzy Osbourne if he can teach himself to carry a tune. 

Making friends is hard, but he manages to find a few in middle school who can play the instruments he can’t– drums, bass. Eddie takes the role of frontman, not exactly a singer still but he’s charismatic enough to get away with it at their school talent show.

High school comes, and Corroded Coffin is revamped. New vibe, new members. He’s older now, a little more jaded with each rejection. 

No one wants their EP, recorded by hand in Gareth’s garage onto cheap cassette tapes. 

No venue will let them play, and Eddie knows that it’s probably because they’re in high school but hadn’t The Cure started in high school? 

No one believes in them, trying to push them– especially Eddie– to consider more successful careers, safer paths. 

But eventually, they book a regular gig at The Hideout and Eddie’s certain this is it. This is their big break. Until they play week after week, staring at the same five plastered faces every Tuesday. If they can prove themselves though, the owner will have to let them play on a Friday or Saturday.

He never does. 

The final nail in the proverbial coffin comes after Eddie’s final senior year. Being accused of murder should have beefed up his credibility if nothing else– he’s already been traumatized, terrorized, and hunted like a goddamn dog, nevermind almost killed via hoard of angry mutant bats. Surely, he’ll catch at least one break. 

And then the owner at The Hideout tells him he can’t play there anymore. 

The hoards of people who still blame him for Chrissy Cunningham’s death are too much for him to manage himself and, in his words, Eddie’s driving away good business. His heart shatters, his breath catches, and Eddie leaves without a word because if he were to try to speak, all that would come out is either an enraged scream or a choked sob and Eddie doesn’t want to risk either. 

He drives around aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, just circles around the outskirts of Hawkins. Maybe I’ll just leave, he thinks. Indianapolis might be far enough. Maybe Chicago. Fuck it, maybe Argyle and Jonathan can put me up for awhile in California. Eddie wants to go somewhere that makes him forget just how lost he is, how unwanted and forgotten he’s become. Being the social pariah is only fun when he’s making speeches on cafeteria tables, not when it boots him out of his one and only career path. 

Somehow, he ends up in Loch Nora. He can’t face Wayne right now, he doesn’t want to bother Robin or Nancy, he’s already let Jeff, Gareth, and Freak down in the worst way imaginable, and if he goes to his mom’s or Chrissy’s tombstones with one more sob story, he’s afraid they’ll start haunting him. Steve’s become a friend over the last year or so it makes sense. Process of elimination and all of that. 

He doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to realize that he’d started driving that way before he ruled everyone else out. 

Steve welcomes him like he always does and offers him a beer, sitting with him in companionable silence on the couch as they watch Monty Python and The Holy Grail and laugh at the same parts. Eddie knows Steve can see that he’s upset but instead of asking questions Eddie isn’t ready to answer, he just sits a little closer with their thighs touching and one arm strewn over the back of the couch, just barely grazing Eddie’s shoulder. 

The movie ends and Steve moves to switch the tape when Eddie finally speaks up. 

“The Hideout kicked us out. Can’t play there anymore.” 

Eddie sees Steve freeze from behind before turning, his eyebrows knitted together above his nose. “Are you fucking serious?” 

He nods and sighs, lifting one hand to chew on this thumbnail as he looks at the wall beyond Steve. 

“That’s bullshit, dude. Why? Because of the protestors or whatever?” 

He nods again. 

“Want me to go down there? I’ve still got my bat around here somewhere. It might be nice to swing at something that’s not trying to like, eat me.” 

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose and meets Steve’s eyes, their righteous anger blending with his own as he sees Steve cross his arms over his chest. It’s hard not to stare. 

 “Well, then at least I wouldn’t be the only guy in this town wanted for murder.” 

Steve shakes his head and just chooses another movie, Howard the Duck this time, before returning to his spot on the couch. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite movies but he can’t focus to save his life because Steve is even closer now, his arm draped fully across Eddie’s shoulders and creating a space for Eddie to easily just… rest. So he does. 

The title sequence starts and Eddie’s head drops to the side, resting on Steve’s shoulder. It’s one of his favorites but he can’t follow the plot to save his life. All he can focus on is the way Steve’s fingers trace symptoms and shapes against the cotton of his tee shirt, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the feeling of Steve’s head leaning against the top of his. 

“I had a new song and everything,” Eddie whispers, surprising both himself and Steve. 

Steve hums and tightens his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, a ghost of a hug. “Play it for me sometime?”

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. And maybe he still can.

[ink-flavored]

Urban Fantasy Culture World-Building

There are a lot of different creatures in my anthologies, each with a unique culture. I thought I would take the time to outline them all here, both as a reference for myself, but also as a fun guide to how I might be able to make my characters defy their culture in the anthology stories I write. You can also find this and more on my Neocities site! Unnamed Urban Fantasy Anthology Taglist (Check out my Google Form to get added): @foxys-fantasy-tales @auroblaze @thelaughingstag @auntdarth @damageinkorporated

Human

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

We’re those! Nice! 👍

Culturally, most humans value variety in life and social groups, making the most of their adaptive qualities. They’re some of the most likely to mingle in other creatures’ cultures, whether it’s to learn, or just to try the food.

Elf

Always born with the ability to use magic

Pointy-eared, long-lived humanoids with strong connections to magic

Culturally, most elves encourage an interest in study, invention, and creation to make the most of their long lives. Education is highly prized and encouraged, in anything from science to art to history. Their birth rates are some of the lowest among all creatures, so the rare biological family unit tends to be close-knit and cultural expectations are high for the few children that are born.

Dwarf

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, bearded, subterranean humanoids

Culturally, most dwarves enjoy showing off their prowess in working metals, stone, and gems, or otherwise focus on perfecting a specific craft. Making a trade into a career is highly prioritized, and competition in various dwarf markets is fierce. Still, some prefer to keep their crafts as private hobbies, not feeling a need to prove themselves in business—their skill is self-evident, after all.

Orc

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Large, tusked humanoids

Culturally, most orcs foster strong social bonds, value strength of character, and individual deeds. They put a large emphasis on community and family, and many orc social groups have regular family reunions with “talent shows” that allow each orc to show off something they’ve mastered since the last reunion.

Dragonfolk

Always born with the ability to use magic

Large humanoids with draconic features and fire breath

Culturally, most dragonfolk enjoy building collections of personally valuable objects and boast of their exploits as a form of social bonding. Those collections can range from the traditional gold and jewelry to a hoard of tourist trap knick-knacks, and the larger collection the better. Similarly, social boasting can range from personal achievement to the achievements of those close to you. Some dragonfolk like to boast that they hoard things to boast about. This usually gets an eyeroll.

Gnome

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, subterranean humanoids with a close relationship to nature

Culturally, most gnomes carefully craft gardens of fungi or flowers, and tend to live their lives slow and unbothered. They’re another creature commonly found scattered among the cultures of others, glad to share and eager to befriend any who cross their path.

Halfling

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, ground-dwelling humanoids

Culturally, most halflings value food and entertainment in extravagant fashion. Social propriety is also highly valued in many halfling spaces, and declining invitations to social events is gossip-worthy news. Each of those social events aims to be bigger and more bombastic than the last, taking any excuse to celebrate something.

Satyr

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoid creatures with goat legs, ears, horns, and other features

Culturally, most satyrs value a “fast life” full of partying and constant recreation. From the outside, it seems as though many satyrs simply don’t care about taking life seriously, but those who party argue an emphasis on amusement is taking it seriously. Life is tough, so satyrs make joy whenever and however they can. Even comparatively more buttoned-up satyrs have at least one area they can completely let loose in.

Centaur

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Horse from the waist down and human from the waist up

Culturally, most centaurs emphasize close herd ties, community leadership, and helping your own. Commonly, centaur herds move nomadically around a few central locations, where trust and mutual aid is vital. Leadership roles are taken extremely seriously, and knowing when to step down into a follower’s role is applauded, not shamed.

Shapeshifter

Always born with the ability to use magic

Can be literally any of these things and more

Shapeshifters tend to assimilate with whichever culture they grow up nearest to, but in shapeshifter-only communities, they tend to value spontaneity and philosophy—they exist in both a solid and fluid state of self. Many shapeshifters find themselves unable to relate to the solidity of other creatures, or have been shamed for their abilities and refusal to just “pick something.” Cultures that value transience, like naiads, gnomes, and satyrs, tend to be more welcoming to shapeshifters than others.

Naga

Always born with the ability to use magic

Giant snake-people with arms and other humanoid features

Culturally, most naga are solitary with carefully curated routines. Their families can be very large, but naga children are encouraged to seek independence at a very early age, depending on their upbringing. Because many nagas enter brumation in the winter, the dedication to routine includes making space for rest and recuperation. Many consider it a necessary isolation, to recoup the energy to go on.

Minotaur

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Bull from the chest up, human from the chest down, and a bull’s tail

Culturally, most minotaur value privacy and not speaking unless they have something “valuable” to add to a conversation. This “value” is dependent on the individual, and can extend to career paths and decisions in life as well. Some minotaurs will (very subtly) bicker over which values in life are most important, both to strengthen their own arguments and to challenge others’.

Vampire

Nobody is born a vampire, they’re created from bites or curses

An undead creature that subsists off the blood of living creatures

Magic ability is based on which creature they were born as

Most vampires continue to practice the cultural values they had in their lives, but vampire-only communities tend to organize around supporting each other in undeath, and how blood-sucking might be a downside of a second chance at life, but a “living” life has consequences too. In a way, an undeath is a second chance, and many vampires aim to make the most of it, despite their circumstances.

Werewolf

Nobody is born a werewolf, they’re created from bites or curses

Look exactly like themselves until the full moon, upon which they mutate into a large wolf creature that is compelled to rampage until the next day

Magic ability is based on which creature they were born as

Most werewolves continue to practice the cultural values they had before they were turned, but werewolf-only communities tend to emphasize “necessary rage” and never holding back emotion. To some, becoming a werewolf is freeing, giving them an excuse to express “unsightly” emotions their cultures might encourage them to suppress.

Catfolk

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoid cat creatures; can share the patterns and qualities of domestic or wild cats

Culturally, most catfolk encourage pride and self-indulgence. Walking away from situations you find unpleasant, or even unstimulating, is encouraged. Taking entire days for yourself to do something you enjoy or simply lounge around is a common pastime. There’s less pressure among catfolk to “give back” their communities, and more communal cultures can clash with catfolk because of this.

Dryad

Always have the ability to use magic

Humanoid tree creatures; can share qualities from any one type of tree

They aren’t “born,” they’re grown from other dryad seeds

Culturally, most dryads emphasize a slow, cautious life and meditation on any big decision. Impulsivity and recklessness is frowned upon, but as some of the longest-lived creatures in the world, doing something “impulsive” can vary wildly from other cultures’ expectations. Many dryads who spend time with other cultures are often shocked when creatures spend hours—not weeks or months—contemplating their choices. Others are unsurprised—other creatures simply don’t have the time to be as contemplative as a tree. Whether this is sympathy or pity can vary.

Naiad

Always have the ability to use magic

Humanoid water creatures

They aren’t “born,” they’re created through rituals with enchanted water

Culturally, most naiads value transience in relationships and transparency in emotions—never sticking too closely to one thing, but never lying about their intentions. Because they’re inherently magical, naiads use magic for everything from practicality to play. Magic puzzles and illusions are common forms of entertainment, and even as forms of education. And, of course, many naiads find it amusing to toy with other creatures who try to find their communities, distracting them with said puzzles until they prove themselves or give up.

Fairy

Always born with the ability to use magic

Humanoid creatures with thin, butterfly-adjacent wings and colorful hair and eyes

Culturally, most fairies value politeness and gift-giving, especially if the gift is handmade or somehow personal. Their communities are very close-knit, but have often near-inscrutable social constraints to outsiders. Even between different communities of fairies, the social code is practically a different language and impacts everything from terms of address to which spells may be cast in public vs private spaces.

Harpy

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoids with wings for arms and a bird’s legs; can share patterns and qualities of any bird

Culturally, most harpies encourage freedom and independence from a young age and throughout life. The ability to fly allows them to travel much farther and with greater ease than most other creatures, so travel is a very big “rite of passage” in lots of harpy societies. Social dances are also given great importance, most often for romance, but there are plenty of dances for friendship, formal events, apologies, celebration, and even sympathy for another’s grief.

Merfolk

Always born with the ability to use magic

Human from the waist up and a sea creature from the waist down; can share qualities with any one sea creature

Culturally, most merfolk value community connections, mutual aid, and teamwork. Merfolk that share traits with fish tend to live in schools, traveling around the sea nomadically. Others that share traits with sharks or octopi tend to be solitary, staying in one area of the sea, with close ties to other merfolk that live near them, or schools that pass by. Their vocal hypnosis is used to hunt, and schools that hunt often use simultaneous hypnosis to disorient their prey before going in for the kill. In schools, the young and the elderly always eat first, followed by the rest.

Aetheridum (pl) / Aetherid (s)

Regular people (of any creature type) can have Aetheridum children if they’re blessed by whatever gods exist in this world, or if the kid is a gift they prayed for, or as a reward for devotion. No matter what their parents are, the magic kids have metallic skin, will eventually grow wings (even if they already have them), and have an intense penchant for magic

They aren’t literally “angels come to earth” but people speculate that they’re earthly incarnations of aether-creatures, or even fragments of gods themselves

The intensity of that magic gift varies between individuals, but they are the only creature that doesn’t experience the magical “atrophy” that every other creature does. They have an intense magical capacity from birth, to the point where they may warp the magic energies around them without realizing, and cause it to fire off without actually casting any spells

This can be both positive and negative. One the one hand, having a high magical capacity means a much easier time learning spells, casting them, and managing the energy output. On the other, choosing not to pursue any magical training means that any Aetherid can potentially be setting off magic flashbangs, wherever they go, by complete accident, for the rest of their lives. Most parents put their Aetheridum kids in magical training as early as possible due to this outcome, but not all of them do, and not all of the children stay in training.

Despite being a literal godly blessing, the magical capability can be somewhat of a curse too. Recruitment for their magical gifts is extremely high in scientific and medical fields, and many are pushed into high-skill, high-stress jobs for the sake of “not wasting their gifts.” There has been plenty of literature and study on the subject of just how much more beneficial an Aetherid is to any particular work environment, if at all—a high magical capacity doesn’t mean anything about how well you use it. Most find that the same jobs can be easily done with non-Aetheridum workers with standard or even low magical capacities, just not to the same degree of power. Unfortunately, these unfavorable results are often swept under the rug for the sake of maintaining the “usefulness” of this blessed class of creature.

D’infernyssh (pl) / D’infern (s)

In the same way some children can be blessed, some can be cursed. If the parents make a foul pact, corrupt themselves with forbidden magic, or anger a vengeful deity, they can give birth to a D’infern. These children are almost a direct inverse of Aetheridum, born with metallic skin, eventually growing batlike wings, and always have a curse to bear

Similar to the speculation about Aetheridum, the D’infernyssh aren’t literally demons, but could possibly be incarnations of godly rage or corrupted godlike creatures

The curses placed on the D’infernyssh are always related to the siphoning of emotions or sensations from those around them to survive. “Real” food doesn’t nourish them in the slightest, though they do experience hunger. They describe cravings for feelings the same way any other might describe a craving for soup or fancy steak.

The types of curses known to the world are: pleasure, rest, anger, sadness, joy, envy, pain, affection, fear, pride, disgust, and curiosity.

For any non-D’infernyssh, simply being in the presence of a hungry D’infern who eats the emotion or sensation you’re feeling is all it takes for it to be slowly drained away. For example, if you feel curious about something around a D’infern that eats curiosity, you’ll slowly become less interested in it until you find it altogether uninteresting. Once the D’infern isn’t hungry, the draining stops, and your emotions become your own again. However, eating feelings doesn’t work like gaining nutrients from food, and unless the D’infern gets a big “meal” from either an intense emotional state or multiple people experiencing the same emotion at once, they often need to “eat” more than 3 times a day.

Most parents with D’infernyssh children can’t tell if they have a D’infern or an Aetherid at the beginning of the child’s life. Because they both have metallic skin and their wings don’t sprout until puberty, it’s very easy to confuse one for the other unless you know why your child was born with platinum skin. Due to this confusion, many D’infernyssh are malnourished until they can communicate what they need to survive.

There are tests that can be given to potential Aetheridum or D’infernyssh children to pick out which one is which, but it does require the parents to acknowledge the potential that their child may be cursed. Unless they know already, many are reluctant to do this, and a few are even insulted by the insinuation.

Doctors that specialize in curses are working on ways to determine from birth, and even from an ultrasound, what kind of metallic child they’re working with, but it’s a work-in-progress, and nowhere near as reliable as many D’infernyssh, their parents, and potential parents would like it to be.

Having a very obvious curse that drains the emotions of those around them, whether they like it or not, makes D’infernyssh obvious targets of ostracization from many cultures, save for those that hold overcoming personal strengths in high reverence, like orcs, dragonfolk, and dwarves. Still, there’s a lot that needs to be done for acceptance of the D’infernyssh, and places like Athendrolyn are breeding grounds for social movements.

Obviously this ostracization is more intense for some D’infernyssh and not others. For example, a D’infern that eats pain might have wildly different experiences from a D’infern that eats joy.

Goblin

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Small, cave-dwelling, mischievous humanoids

Culturally, most goblins encourage community sharing, barter, and near-constant play. In many goblin societies, there is no concept of “private property.” Everything in the community belongs to everybody in it, with shared resources considered the default with individual items belonging to individuals a very distant concept. Trading extra resources or favors is more common than money when it comes to trade, and even a good joke can count as “payment” in some goblin societies. Entertainment is important for the good of the community, after all, and coming up with new and exciting games is taken very seriously.

Sphinx

Always born with the ability to use magic

Large creature with a human’s face, a lion’s body, and an eagle’s wings that tells riddles

Culturally, most sphinxes value intelligence, creativity, and interrogating rules. In many sphinx communities, their riddles are less important than why the riddles are asked. Knowing when and why to test someone with a riddle is one of the first lessons taught to the rare young sphinx, though the precise reason varies. Tradition, respect for the asker, earning the asker’s attention or friendship, testing another’s creativity, gaining wisdom from their answer, all of these and more are considered valid reasons for a sphinx to ask a riddle. Good luck ever getting them to reveal which one they were thinking of when they asked you, though.

Selkie

Always born with the ability to use magic

A seal creature that transforms into a human on land, keeping its seal skin as a coat

Culturally, most selkies value boundaries, slow-moving relationships, and taking time to put down firm roots. Second only to dryads in their community emphasis on deliberation, selkies never put their coats down in places they wouldn’t be willing to risk their lives in. As slow-moving as selkie friendships and relationships can be, when a selkie is comfortable enough to leave their coats at the door, it’s a sign they’ve become a loyal companion for life. In the same vein, trying to rush a relationship can cause a selkie to snap it like a twig, never to flourish.

Gorgon

Always born with the ability to use magic

A humanoid with snakes for hair that can turn others to stone with a single glance

The snakes are most often non-venomous, but there are exceptions

Culturally, most gorgons value self-defense, privacy, and “not judging books by the cover.” As frightening as gorgons can seem, and as truly dangerous as their powers can be, the vanishingly rare cases of intentional petrification prove that many fears are unfounded. Many gorgons that value privacy also value the privacy of others, and won’t pry about topics if they aren’t brought up first. By this same principle, many gorgons have very short tolerances for others prying, especially if it involves invasive questions about “how far the snakes go” or their “statue count.”

[netherworldpost]

I made a comment about monster economies on a math post. Here are some notes!

ELVES Elven economies are measured in millennia, so investing advice gets skewed over glacial periods. The main benefit is the power of compounding interest, the drawback is a fear to begin.

Decades, centuries, pass and fortunes are eroded due to inflation or outright literal rot, elves preferring flora-based money over gems and metal coins, in many communities.

Incredibly fertile farmland is available and considered a safe investment, though there are always concerns from overfarming.

DWARVES Dwarven economies work differently. If you have it, use it to build. If you don't have it, work harder.

The latter is actually terrible advice and many economists are trying to help dwarven communities open up when there are needs.

To be clear: any dwarf who needs help can get it, the community would rather collectively shave their beards off than one of their own go hungry or cold in the elements. The "asking for help" is the poisoned thing.

DRAGONS Given their long lives, incredible might, and well-stocked well-trapped lairs, dragons are often seen as an economy themselves.

Clever dragons use this to their advantage and offer financial services to local realms, adding to their hoard and offering protective services (for a fee, of course).

Withdraw requests are difficult to negotiate.

HALFLINGS A delicious economy difficult to quantify, as it is largely seasonal. Fruit and vegetables in warm months, grown and harvested. Firewood, pies, and pipe fill in the cold months, relished and enjoyed.

Most produce most of what they, themselves and their homes, need.

Spare time is spent relaxing, toasting drinks, telling stories, dancing. Spare supplies are traded about each other, so the talented brewer (whom is a bit sparse in the ways of potato farming) and the candlestick maker (whom themselves is a bit wary of the work necessary to harvest firewood), and the forester (keen and quick with an axe to a dead tree or overgrowth) all have larders stocked fully.

[the-real-sasuke-uchiha]

Hello. I'm wondering what do you think about Indra and his deprivation of heir status situation?

Hi there, nice person. Well, I think that Hagoromo was obviously a biased father with no parenting abilities and a clear, shameless favouritism for one if his children. He ruined their children's lives by seeding discord between them and acting in a blatantly unfair way. He had two sons who were perfectly complementary to each other and, instead of stetting them to cooperate, he left all the power to one hoping the other would just submit to him and serve him in exchange for nothing. This was his idea of "love and cooperation", favouring one part while the other just gives in and accepts whichever humiliation and dishonour. He claims to seek peace, but peace can't never be cemented on injustice and discrimination, something many heroes of the story never seem to grasp.

Indra was left with nothing but a rock, where his father even engraved warnings against power for his successors, a testimonial of how much he distrusted Indra and how he extended that distrust to all his bloodline, even those who were not even born yet. The stone tablet is a testimonial of Hagoromo's everlasting prejudice. It is extremely upsetting and, when Indra is portrayed as evil, jealous or unreasonable, I seriously can't believe people can't consider how betrayed and failed he must have felt.

As I was telling once to a mutual, imagine you own a farm and you have two children. One knows how to handle animals, grow crops, and manage all the work in the farm, but he is null with people. The other knows nothing about the work, but he excels at finding clients, suppliers, organises exchanges with the community... Would you leave the farm to the "people person" child and expect the other to just be ok with it and work for free under the lead of the child who knows nothing about how the business works? And when the excluded child gets angry as expected, you blame him for the farm not working properly? "Oh, my child does not want to be used and treated unfairly, so now the farm does not work and people go hungry, he is so mean!"

That is what Hagomoro did here. He gave the power solely to the dumb child, hoping that "power of friendship" would compensate for his lack of talent and knowledge. But the dumb child and his descendants could never make peace. And this was not only due to the fact that Indra and his descendants were angry at their unfair treatment and challenged their greedy relatives. When the "Asuras" are in charge of power, all they have is nice words and empty promises, but in reality they only create chaos and their only worry is to keep hoarding power and influence. They can't achieve anything because they don't know how to do it. They are simply not capable and they only care for themselves, despite their friendly façade. They are of course expert people pleasers, which makes them good manipulators and demagogues, but never good leaders.

In summary, Indra was treated unfairly and he is the victim in this story. (And, as his last living descendant, if I ever see Hagoromo again I will stuck that stone table up his ass)

[ereana]

Neuvifuri - You know we aren’t meant to be

Justice seeks to ensure that all individuals are treated fairly and impartially under the law. Laws were plentiful in Teyvat, spanning from the laws of nature that governed the physical world to the laws of humans which ensured that civilisations did not descend into anarchy.

Then there were the laws of Celestia which wrapped around souls, divine or mortal it made no difference, like thorny vines. Painful to touch, constantly felt, with the ever looming threat of terrible punishment should someone dare to try and free themselves. Celstia’s laws reigned over all others matched only by the savage chaos of the abyss.

Powerful but not infallible. Furina’s grand performance had been able to fool even the heavens themselves; days passed and yet Fontaine continued to go on, her people now safe from the cruel fate that had awaited them. The laws of Celestia were not absolute and be it either through loopholes or trickery those deadly vines could be dealt with.

Or perhaps, Furina thinks with a wry smile, it is simply something unique to her that allows her to slip loose from the metaphorical rope around her neck. A certain stubbornness to challenge the tyrannical will of fate that would leave her miserable on a throne weeping for everything she has lost. If she possesses one exceptional quality as a mere human it is her willpower, her strength to rise every morning for five hundred years and deceive everyone.

So when she dares to rise up against the order of things once more she is prepared to do whatever it takes to triumph once more.

Humans are not supposed to love dragons.

Dragons are incapable of loving humans.

Two beings that should never tie themselves together with the corrupting thread of intimacy and affection. The differences in lifespan, in power, in mutual understanding are only a few of the reasons why such a union would be abhorrent. Celestia would curse any who dared even align themselves with their ancient foes let alone love one.

The relationship would be doomed from the start; a tragedy that all the actors know the ending of. Pain. Death. Heartbreak. A tale that would taste like ashes in the mouth of even the most talented bard.

Furina doesn’t care.

The morning sun has only started to sneak under the curtain of her bedroom window, inching its way across the floor to her bed. Her normal-sized single bed which, while perfectly fine for her to collapse onto at the end of the day, is in no way big enough for her beloved companion snuggled up against her.

She has been surprised to learn that Neuvillette was a cuddler in his sleep before it quickly melted into the delight of being so lovingly held by her — always hers she knew that now — dear Iudex. 

Furina runs a delicate finger over the arm around her waist, tracing the scales that run in beautiful patterns all the way to his finger tips. She can feel the light pressure of claws against her nightdress, not enough to hurt — he never would, never again — keeping her close and safe. Neuvillette only ever lets his draconic features slip through when he’s with her; claws, scales, fangs the marks of his birthright that should unnerve her instead pulling her further into his orbit. Only she gets to see him like this.

It was never meant to be like this.

Furina was supposed to have disappeared after her trial, blended into the populace of the nation she had ruled for five hundred years as another citizen. Another of his subjects to care for but nothing more than that. She should have stepped back from the spotlight like any good actor would.

But she’s always been a little selfish with Neuvillette. He’d been her partner, the closest thing she had to a friend, and she had clung to him with all the strength in her feeble human body. Late night conversations, outings, the quiet coziness of their private aquabus, moments she’d hoarded greedily over the centuries in some vain attempt to feel less lonely under the crushing weight of her duty.

Furina tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. He looks so peaceful like this. The sternness of his features is softened in sleep as though the stress of the waking world has melted away. As she strokes her thumb along his jaw he lets out a pleased rumble, that’s definitely not a purr as he’s told her many times, and somehow pulls her even closer.

She feels so small in his arms, he could snap her in half without breaking a sweat but Furina only feels protected in the embrace. It’s as though he’s trying to keep her safe from the rest of the world. Maybe he feels like he needs to.

After all, the two of them were never meant to be anything more than Sovereign and Usurper, at least according to the laws of this world.

Not meant to be.

It’s a sin to love him but she does, with all her being.

He shouldn’t love her but he gave her his heart, placing it into her care for her to destroy him if she’d been so inclined. Everything has changed but also nothing has because she is still his lady and he is still her dragon.

Furina smiles as Neuvillette yawns, sharp fangs flashing in the dull light of her room. He blinks sleepily at her. It’s unfairly adorable. He reaches up to take her hand in his own and presses it to his lips, looking at her with a devotion that once would have shaken her to her core.

“Good morning, my lady.”

Furina giggles and leans in to give him a proper kiss.

Not meant to be, but no sin has ever tasted so sweet.

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: the flow

the number we are focusing on today is based on the SUM OF TERTIARY KARMIC LESSON NUMBER AND MONETARY BLOCKING NUMBER (ex: my flow number is 17: 9 + 8 = 17 (recall that numbers must be summed a second time if they total 23 (i.e. 2 + 3 = 5) and above)).

but what does this number mean?

this number represents how you can keep the flow open with the universe - if you want to receive things from the universe, you have to keep this number in balance. want love? want money? want opportunities? keep this number balanced.

so let's talk about some examples:

9 - the hermit

click here for the card description of the hermit found in a prior wyrd web post.

unbalanced 9s fear the world around them and often isolate, not wanting to risk what they have. they fear evaluating why they have issues gaining, why they fear risk, why are so desperately clinging to what they have, etc. spending too much time alone and apart from the world only stops them from having opportunities. they might be blocking out too many opinions of others - they should know aren't the only one with good ideas. they should listen to others perceptive on their situation. they should take a risk - they should break away from what they know.

balanced 9s spend time with themselves to have a better idea of what they want from the universe, so they know what they are looking to gain. they have deep knowledge of what they need and want - they can distinguish between the two as well. they take breaks from being out in the world to regroup and recenter, but they don't hide out from the outside world. they connect to their thoughts and ideas on how to gain while also taking into account the thoughts and opinions of others (but only with a grain of salt). they take risks without waiting for the permission of others because they know they are capable of taking on the world on their own.

13 - death

click here for the card description of death found in a prior wyrd web post.

unbalanced 13s cling to what they have and experience hoarding like tendencies. they have to realize they must give what they want in order for reciprocity to be experienced. they are often stuck in the past - they think about who they used to be with and what they used to have instead of thinking about what they could have and who they could be with. they have to let go in order to receive. they need to stop thinking about how their relationships once were and let them grow/change. they should quit their job when it no longer serves them and trust they can find something else.

balanced 13s remember that they and the world around them is constantly changing. they go with the flow, and the flow provides for them in turn. despite feeling somewhat uncomfortable through all the changes of life, they still appreciate the shifts in the world around them. they take comfort in knowing something more suitable to where they presently are is coming into their life. they are ready to move forward on the path of life no matter which way they are headed.

17 - the star

click here for the card description of the star found in a prior wyrd web post.

unbalanced 17s lack faith in the universe and often feel hopeless about their prospects in life. but there is no right or wrong path for them, only a blank canvas. they are prone to giving up before even trying. they need to trust that it takes time - the universe takes time. they need to be hopeful and trust that they can do anything. they might be unwilling to heal from past relationships and thus lack hope they they can find a more suitable connection. they don't tend to follow up on their ideas of how to make money either.

balanced 17s accept change and welcome the future. they have faith and hope that the universe will bring better into their lives. they let their creative ideas flow, so they can come up with new ways to make money and meet people. they use their talents to excel in the world. they take time to heal and get through previous romantic trauma, so they could do better in the next relationship they have. they trust that their romantic life is guided spiritually, and they are being lead to their best options/opportunities. they are open to inspired thoughts on how they can do better.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic." button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next! if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

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© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

[aenor-llelo]

I've been reading your fox fall series and I've decided to pick your brain about the vessel-gendered and thunderus-tornadus things. But could you elaborate on those for me a little? I get the basic concept but I would like a more elaborate explanation please. Thank you in advance and I enjoy the series very much.

(second question first cus it's short) thundurus-tornadus is basically their word for a tsunami. a lot of weather events in this setting are basically considered acts of god.

(first question next because it's long) in foxfall, draconian gender operates on a trianary of which of the three tao dragons most represents their self-chosen role in life. things like trans/cisgender Do Not Exist in draconian culture because they do not factor for biological sex in how their society functions. that kind of information is considered taboo outside of lovers, doctors, or most immediate family. (hormone therapy and what we'd consider gender reassignment surgery exists, but they see it as matter of dysphoria intervention rather than a gender thing.)

sexuality also isn't something they define either. people marry or cohabitate with whoever, and it doesn't matter if that union produces children. draconians don't really care about the integrity of the bloodline, only if someone has been raised/taught in the draconian way.

(something like ingo and emmet, where they live together as a platonic civil partnership in all but name, is considered completely normal by draconian standards. it's much weirder that they're 30 years old and don't have any kids or apprentices.)

draconians as a whole will accept whatever pronouns they're assigned unless the individual finds it convenient, or even advantageous, to insist on a certain binary pronoun set when it exists in the area's language, but some dragonless choose to default to they/them for draconians out of respect to their gender privacy. precisely because they consider it private information, draconians take the genders/chosen presentation of the dragonless very seriously, since in their eyes knowing that kind of thing is an act of trust.

the setting as a whole thinks draconians are kind of mysterious. "there's this spiritual nomad culture that tames dragons, has genders we don't know about, and keeps huge parts of identities to their graves!" queer culture doesn't insist draconians are themselves a nonbinary/trans society because of the different circumstances, but draconians are considered cousins/friends of the queer community. in places where draconians are common, they're often a baby queer's first exposure to the concept of xenogenders and genderqueer individuals.

trianary semantics under the cut:

the first set of honorifics is fire/winter/storm, which is basically just an elemental vibecheck. which dragon to you kin? this sort of thing is figured out relatively early in childhood, but all of these aspects can be changed at any time if someone feels like they've fundamentally changed as a person.

the second is song/silence/roar. which do you choose to strive for- skill, patience/simplicity, or vigor?

then there's the base gender, hoard/vessel/stone.

hoard, the reshiramgender. Defined by power, knowledge, philosophy, art, parenthood (draconians consider the act of teaching to be the same as parenthood)

vessel, the kyuremgender. Defined by service, cold/ice/lack, taking aspects from everything, jack of all trades, becoming what is needed.

stone, the zekromgender. Defined by craft, skill, tradesmen, labor, hard work.

by pure semantics, draconian culture basically has nine possible self-determined genders meant to communicate the following in ascending order- what do you do in life, how do you do it, and why?

Ingo, fire-roar vessel. "for the sake of an honest world, i put my passion to realizing the ambition of others. show me your true form!"

emmet, storm-song vessel. "for the sake of an ideal world, i hone my skill to reveal the talent of others. let this be the perfect battle!"

drayden was once a winter-roar hoard, but nowadays is winter-silence hoard. "for the sake of inner peace, my wisdom is the strength i wield to teach and protect others." (the transition from roar to silence happened after his sister died.)

iris is winter-song hoard! "for the sake of harmony, my skills will hone and defend the world."

[ughgoaway]

i hate matty healy- chapter 4

content warnings: 18+ (mdni), smut, fingering, swearing, drinking, drinking games, a secret is revealed... (its not that dramatic but shhh) and possibly confusing plot! word count- 3700-ish

a/n: All the chapters are back up now!! a little message to tumblr to say I hate you give me my blog back. all the boys are featured in this chapter, I struggled to make them sound like real people, so if the characterisation sucks... don't tell me!! I'm not sure if I hate this chapter, or I've just read it too many times, but here you go!

prev chapter next chapter

The sound of its only living echoed through your ears, or was it UGH! ? You honestly couldn't tell, you were busy being laser-focused on Matty. Ever since your strange silent conversation at the club, he was all you could think about. If anyone told you a week ago all you would be able to think about was Matthew Healy, you would've laughed in their face. But suddenly you felt tender around him, but not in a loving way. The same tenderness as a bruise. A painful tender that hurt every time you touched it, yet you always poked it over and over to see if the hurt had changed. If it had evolved. Every stolen glance felt as if someone was pushing on that bruise. You felt inexplicably closer to him but what was that phrase? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer? You were closer than friends. You are enemies linked together. The same sin binds you.

His actions on the stage tonight have caused you to roll your eyes and scoff more times than you could count. How could anyone believe this stupid rockstar act, let alone be attracted to it? All you saw was the same drunk 18-year-old who tried to chat you up at a party. The same asshole who has done nothing but torture you for the past decade. You could admit he was talented. He was also unbelievably difficult but fuck. He was talented. But he wasn't worth this. People fell over themselves to get close to him. Screamed, pushed and shoved just to touch him. His little act never impressed you, not when you were 17 and certainly not now. But if it didn't impress you how would you explain the growing need in your stomach with each song? And the way you tensed your thighs at every one of his ridiculous hip thrusts? And it certainly would be difficult to explain the wetness between your legs, practically dripping down them.

Before you knew it the boys were coming off stage, and the aura of ego surrounding Matty made you roll your eyes. If ego could be personified, it would be Matty Healy. His ever-present cockiness caused many of your arguments over the years. Mixed with his stubborn attitude it was one of his worst attributes, aside from his grating personality of course. Yet lust coursed through your veins at the sight of him. A bead of sweat dripping from his mess of curls down his neck and chest was the final straw. You lunged forward as soon as he handed his guitar off to someone and gripped cruelly around his wrist. Moving and weaving through the hoards of people you managed to escape without the other boys seeing you run off together. 

Matty didn't need words, he could feel you staring at him through the whole show, even playing it up a bit to make you even more desperate. He loved being able to see his effect on you, after years of nothing but unimpressed glares the sudden looks of hunger were like catnip to him. If anyone saw the look in your eyes and the sly smirk on his face they would know exactly what you were up to but both of you knew in that moment that didn't matter.

Stumbling down the hallway with Matty in tow you quickly dragged him into the first empty room you saw, not caring who could walk in. You didn't have a single thought other than him. Time slipped away the moment his hand grasped yours, the small contact is almost painful as if you were pressing on that same bruise. You both knew what was happening but you were still apprehensive, not believing you were about to beg Matty Healy to touch you again. Not that it would take you begging but you knew if it came down to it you would.

Shame washed over you only to be quickly replaced with want when you saw what was written all over his face. “I need you” and god you hated how much you need him too. Shutting the door you spin around to face Matty. His hand quickly meets your neck, gripping slightly flaunting his dominance over you. A breathy moan escapes your lips and your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pushes you against the cold brick wall behind you. The chill almost brings you back to reality only to be dragged back by the words spilling from Mattys���s mouth.

“Oh, darlin’ what's got you so worked up? I can feel how wet you are already” Matty teased whilst his hand slithered down from your neck to tease his fingers up your clothed core. The slight contact left you breathless. “You” came your meek reply. A wide smirk grew on Matty’s lips, “What about me darling? You spend all day with me and you're not normally this needy, or have you always been this wet around me huh?” Matty's hands move up and tease the band at the top of your underwear, his calloused fingertips softly dipping just below it; brushing just above where you need him. His other hand gripping your waist so tightly it would leave marks. Hearing you be so honest and tell him how fiercely you need him causes his breath to hitch. Soon his head of curls is pushed into your neck leaving delicate kisses, his slight stubble tickling your neck. Each time you shiver, his smirk grows against you, so pleased he could get you this worked up from his featherlight kisses.

 An impatient whimper leaves your lips and you grab his wrist trying to forcefully push his hand where you desperately need it. He smacks your hands away and tuts, coming up from your neck with a filthy look on his face. His eyes were swirling with desire and dominance, the usually chocolate brown iris’ now deep black. He wanted you to use your words, tell him how desperately you need him. Beg for him. 

You immediately gave in to his silent demands and began desperately pawing at him and babbling in his ear, “I need your fingers. Seeing you play that guitar for the past hour was driving me fucking crazy, please-” your desperate pleas were cut off by a loud moan as he simultaneously sucks your neck and slips a finger past your underwear and into your wet cunt. Swiftly, you shoot your hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself, muffled noises coming from behind your clenched fingers. 

Your head was spinning as you tried to control yourself, but there was no use because Matty quickly plunged a second finger in and spoke in your ear. Between clenched teeth he whispered, “Oh so it was my guitar playing that got you this worked up? You weren't even listening to the performance, were you? You slut. Only focused on me fucking you with my fingers afterwards. God, I love how much you want me. How much you need me.” his words only made you wetter, your slick dripping down his hand and coating your thighs. “Yes yes, need you. Only you do this to me, oh my god shit-” you breathe out. Matty chooses to ignore this startling admission, not willing to unpack why he felt his dick twitch as you pleaded for only him. He hated the possessive feeling he had over you, knowing he had no right. But hearing you so needy for him caused images to flash through his mind of you on your knees, almost crying begging and pawing at him. 

The large hand that was gripping your waist was quickly yanked away almost causing you to fall but you caught yourself just as Matty began circling your clit with his fingers. The others pumped into you at a furious pace. He was hooking his digits causing him to hit a spot that had you seeing stars. Your hand was doing very little to muffle the sound of your moans as they had quickly devolved into screams of pleasure. You can't breathe. Can't talk.  All you could think was “Matty” over and over. 

Peeling open your eyes you were met with pure lust in his. His mouth open, in awe of you. Wild sweaty curls stuck up in every direction. The black vest he was wearing showed his tense arms, muscles straining to keep you close and to keep driving into you at an unrelenting pace. Despite not having been touched he looks fucked out, “You're so tight shit- so good for me baby.” His touch was so much better than your own, the nights you spent trying to recreate how he made you feel were futile compared to the real thing. Long fingers hitting spots in you you couldn't imagine, causing your thighs to shake with each thrust.

His lips crash into your own for the first time since you began, he licks into your mouth furiously. You hungrily reciprocated groaning into his open mouth, the force he’s kissing you felt as if it would leave your lips bruised and broken. He tasted of something completely unlike anyone else, yes the usual cigarettes but also something uniquely Matty. His lips against yours were the last thing you needed to push you over the edge. Your arch into his fingers, and suddenly everything is coming to a head. The high you've been desperately chasing is crashing down with no warning. Desperately grinding your hips onto his hand chasing the feeling. White flashes behind your eyelids and your legs begin to go numb. Shaking limbs struggle to hold you up.

The hand covering your mouth shoots to grasp at Matty's forearms in an attempt to get him to slow. He continues to push into you marvelling at your face twisting in pleasure. “Ahhhh” you whimper out clenching your thighs together, the feeling being too overwhelming. Too much. Matty gets the message and slows, staring at your closed eyes and smiling. “Baby, can you hear me? You okay sweetheart? You're shaking like a leaf”, all you can manage is a slight nod letting your head lull back against the cold brick wall. The warm tone coming from his mouth is unusual for you, usually, you were lucky if you got more than grunts from Matty. But here he was whispering praise in your ear, “Good girl I'm gonna pull out now, okay.” You go to nod again but Matty quickly adds “Need to hear you, sweetheart, gotta make sure you're with me” A feeble “yes” slips past your lips which was enough for Matty. He takes his time whilst he pulls out. Using one hand to support your waist. His warm touch began to bring you down to earth. 

Slowly your eyes open and a large smile breaks out on your face, staring into Matty's eyes. “Hi baby” he sweetly says, still fuzzy you reply “Hi. Wow. that was nice” A beat of silence falls over you but was soon broken by a throaty chuckle from Matty, “Just nice? I thought that was some of my best work!” your voice is airy as you giggle back “No I'm sorry, let me try again” you fake clear your throat “it was amazing. Best I've ever had, would recommend to a friend” with a small smile you reconnect your eyes and tilt you head “better?” you ask teasingly. “Oh much better thank you darling, now if you think you can move again we really need to get to the bus. I think George will kill me if I'm late again.” Reality came crashing back and Matty saw your features harden. He didn't know why it made him feel odd. Almost disappointed. “Alright, alright. It was good it wasn't immobilise me good. Cocky fuck.” you pause briefly and straighten your posture, “Let's get going because despite me wanting to see George kill you, I would like a shot a lot more right now.”

Luckily you caught Jamie and Waughy walking back to the bus at the same time as you and Matty meaning you wouldn't have to walk in together and answer questions about where you were. Unceremoniously falling on the black leather seats as you came in caught the attention of your brother, causing him to shoot you a questioning look from the other sofa. You quickly shook your head indicating that it was nothing. 

If nothing meant thinking of how incredible it felt to fuck his best friend of nearly 20 years and how badly you want to do it again then yeah, it was nothing. Catching onto the fact that it was something but that you didn't want to talk about it Ross announced something he hoped would make you feel a small bit better, “right!” he started “I don't know about you all but I need to drink a copious amount of alcohol tonight so what do you all say about a game of never have I ever?” A resounding yes came from the group, including you. This was your opportunity to tease Matty, after what he pulled on stage tonight he deserves it. Game on.

On one sofa were Ross and George both sitting with one leg crossed over the over with beers in their hands, Adam was sat between the two men with his arms outstretched behind them both. A small pillow sat on his lap, a present from Carly to remind him of home whilst on tour. The other sofa was you and Matty, up until 10 minutes ago Jamie was acting as a barrier between the two of you but he left stating he was “too fucking drunk” and leaving you alone next to Matty. Traitor. Before you could obsess over being sat next to Matty alone the game continued. 

Giggles fill the air of the stuffy tour bus after you watch George drink for the question “Has a girl ever called you daddy in bed?” you filed that away in your mind under questions to ask Charli when you saw her next. Everyone knows every game of never have I ever always turned into people admitting weird sex stuff they've done, which might sound odd considering you playing with your brother but you elect to just not look his way during those questions and he does the same to you. The last thing he wants to know about is your sex life. In fact, he couldn't think of anything worse. As George was the only one to drink it was now up to him to come up with the next question. 

“Never have I ever kissed a member of the band?” George drunkenly slurred out, smugly you lift the beer to your lips, taking a long deep sip. A drop of condensation rolls from the lip of the bottle down your neck and settles into the hollows of your collarbone, momentarily distracting Matty from your startling admission. A loud guffaw from the man who asked the question and a groan from the other two men quickly snapped Matty back into reality. His head flicked back to George who is looking back at him. Soon a silent conversation was happening between the two men. 

Matty's hand points accusingly at George as he mouths “You?” Quickly George replies with an assured shake of his head, copying the curly-headed man he mouths back “You?” George soon realises his error as Matty shoots him an incredulous look, he accepts Matty’s answer not knowing how untrue it really was. Not knowing how just 4 hours ago he was desperately pawing at you and groaning into your mouth while fighting your tongue, desperate to keep the sweet taste of you close. Matty shook his head trying to rid his brain of the thought of you. He knew you would never admit to kissing him to anyone, let alone the boys. You were talking about someone else. He flicked his head in the direction of Ross, the same action rapidly being copied by George. Out loud the men say “gross” in unison. 

Suddenly a wave of realisation falls over them both and they turn and stare accusingly at Adam. A different sort of silence takes over the room in the wake of the realisation. A low voice breaks through it, “Hann… you didn't…” Matty said quietly almost as if speaking too loud would make it true.

“y/n whyyyy?! We managed to keep that from those two idiots for nearly 10 years!” Adam groaned. The low voices were soon replaced by chortling laughter, “HANN YOU DOG!! OH MY GOD” George cackled out in that high-pitched laugh you loved. Matty looked remarkably less impressed by this admission, even rolling his eyes at his taller friend's reaction. “Oopsie sorry!” you drunkenly giggle back. You were definitely not sorry. Especially not after getting the reaction you so desperately craved from the man next to you.

Realising there had been a suspicious amount of quiet from one person, Matty glanced over to Ross. He was met with Ross’ head thrown back and a loud groan from the man, “Don't remind me. Please.” Once George's chortling calmed down, he had one question on his mind. “Oh yeah” he began, “Adam how in the world are you still alive and walking? I would've bet good money on Ross killing you as soon as he found out.” A smirk broke across Adam’s features, looking slightly unusual on the normally quiet mans face, “trust me. He tried.” He began to quietly laugh but promptly stopped as Ross glared at him. He had the good grace to look sheepish in the wake of Ross’ unforgiving stare. Ignoring the tension between Ross and Adam, George began hounding you for details.

“Let me set the scene” you began to say, gesturing widely with your hands to lay the groundwork for the story. You left a beat of silence in an attempt to build tension, but that was soon ruined when the clearly very drunk Adam and George began giggling like teenagers. You loved the boys when they were pissed. “Oh my god, you make it sound so theatrical” Ross groaned, “it was a game of spin the bottle like 8 years ago, I was feeling generous and let Adam walk away unscathed because it was just a peck. Nothing more.” 

A glance was shared by you and Adam and soon enough more laughter came out of the two of you. “Well since this is a game of honesty I will finally tell you the truth Ross” Adam began, “It was just a peck… or it started as just a peck but after the game wrapped up we made out on the sofa for like an hour” Adam was sat next to Ross smiling at the memory until he met Ross’ eyes and swiftly ran to sit on the other side of George, using him as a human shield.

Any residual laughter was cut short once Adam had revealed the truth, “what is he talking about.” came Ross’ scarily calm response. You knew he was anything other than calm by the look in his eyes as he stared into yours. “Okay. so we lied. BUT you can't blame us Ross you are ridiculously overprotective! And anyway, we only made out, it's fine!!” Before Ross could react, Adam chimed in again “You were in my lap though and-” he stopped abruptly once he realised what he was saying, shrinking into himself and looking anywhere but Ross’ direction.

George tried to come to Adam's defence but before you knew it a very loud conversation was happening between the three men, you would've been listening but you felt a large hand grip your leg. A familiar hand. You turned to look at him but were soon interrupted by a whisper in your ear. “Keep your head forward darling, don't want anyone seeing us this close do you?” Matty drawled out, “It's amusing to see you vying for my attention with your cute little stories. A blatantly obvious attempt to get me jealous, but I'm never going to be jealous. I know I have you wrapped around my finger. Have done for a long time, one kiss ages ago isn't going to change that.”

A scoff left your lips in response, you threw his hand off of your leg, a dirty feeling sat where his hand was. Maybe it was the drinking or maybe the shame from what happened earlier but you couldn't let him speak as if he owned you, “I don't know who you think you are but you are nothing to me okay? Don't act as if you know me. You don’t. You were simply the closest warm body. Now you can either sit here and act like a good boy or storm off to your bunk. But do not think I'm ever doing anything to get a response out of you. I'm not.” venom dripped from your voice. Matty leaned away from you, his hands lifted in mock surrender. You saw his jaw tick before he simply said “Fine. But next time you come crawling back to me you'll have to beg on your knees. And we both know you'll be back will sweetheart.” before you have a chance to snap back he got up and stormed to the back of the bus.

The other three finally focused again when they saw Matty leaving suddenly, not knowing what caused his rash actions but they looked over at you and saw you glaring in the direction Matty left in. They chalked it up to another one of your petty arguments, not realising it was not just another usual fight. The game stopped abruptly after that, the remaining boys all following Matty's lead and storming to their beds. You knew they would all be over it tomorrow, no doubt they would be hugging and making up before breakfast as they always did. But Matty's comments sat uneasily in your stomach. 

This had to be the end of whatever the fuck you were doing with him, you would never get on your knees and beg for him like he suggested… you were sure of it.

(note- this is a repost, tumblr deleted my old account so this is a new one! I'll add this note on each reposted chapter)

[s0ulfulsapph1c]

Saw Across the Spiderverse, I loved it, 10/10 incredible talented beautiful amazing etc

They should never be allowed to write for Miguel again. That was not my guy and I am so disappointed and afraid for how it’ll influence public opinion of him. More under the cut in case this gets long, but in short:

Miguel O’Hara is someone who’s vehemently against injustice and large, powerful collectives taking choice and power away from the masses. His origin story is literally being used and abused by the powerful company he worked for because he wanted to save the lives of strangers. For protecting people from testing he knew would kill them, he was forcibly drugged and then had a murder attempted by a colleague, giving him his powers. His whole journey as Spider-Man has been about ensuring a better future for his world and fighting back against people who hoard power and lord it over others.

Miguel O’Hara is also a serious man within the suit and a bit of a wise-ass out of it, and he certainly has a short fuse, he would *never* be so irrationally angry towards someone who wants to save his father. Miguel often bends or breaks rules when he feels they’re unjust, and his whole first arc (and much of his character) is fighting against an even more corrupt and all-encompassing Big Pharma. Miguel has a big heart and strives to help others even when he grumbles about it. His first action after getting his powers is attempting to save the man who just repeatedly tried to kill him!

Even when stuck in the past, even when having no obligation to be a hero, Miguel is. Because that’s the kind of person he is. He’s a fierce defender of those who cannot protect themselves, he’s an incredibly smart scientist, and he’s constantly maneuvering in battle to avoid hurting civilians. In fact, he ends up injured himself more often than not keeping others out of harm’s way. He’s a good man.

In the movie, Miguel O’Hara willfully allows the deaths of countless people close to friends to serve ‘canon’. Ignoring that Miguel’s first act was defying rules, ignoring that he goes out of his way to protect his friends, even ignoring that he helps revive those close to him after death, the backstory they gave him troubles me. Miguel has never had a daughter. He had a son, named after his dear brother Gabriel. If he were doing this for his son, who he fought to get back to after death, or Gabriel, who he thought about constantly when stranded in the past, I’d be slightly more forgiving. But he’s not. He’s compromising everything that makes him who he is for a daughter he never had in the comics.

The lengths movie Miguel goes to, relentlessly chasing Miles and beating him into the ground several times, seem extreme. Miguel *is* angry, but only towards people who pose a great threat to innocents such as children or his immediate loved ones. Knowing Miles is a child, the lengths Miguel in the movie goes to are jarringly out of character.

I understand that they needed a villain, but to me, it would be infinitely more compelling if:

1) They used Superior Spider-Man instead. Doc Ock in a Peter’s body knowing that Spider-Man must exist for him to exist and thinking that one can only be a hero in tragedy would be a very good villain for Miles. It would also tie in well with the Spot, and how he insists that Miles made him as he made Miles. Another villain sits there, insisting that Spider-people make him, and he makes them in return. Miles says “That’s dumb and wrong” and spits in the face of hurting people to exist.

2) Miguel is doing this to get back to his brother. Gabriel is *the* most important person in Miguel’s life, to the point where he names his son after him and risks his secret identity and safety immediately to ensure his brother is okay. Keeping things ‘canon’ to assure himself that it means he can see his brother again, knowing that it’s wrong but being so desperate to find the only family that matters to him, would be a wonderful parallel to Miles. Miles loves his father, even when things are complicated, the same way Miguel loves his brother. Miguel and Miles are both brilliant people who would do anything for their loved ones and fight hard and dirty when they need to. Building on that would keep Miguel’s characterization closer to who he is while also keeping him as an antagonistic force.

If you made it this far, thank you! As I said, I loved the movie. The art is beautiful, the characters are poignant and emotional, and I cannot wait to see where the story goes. I just wish Miguel O’Hara was a part of that story.

[verdemoun]

The gang would go batshit over decorations in modern times, i think. Plants. Charles probably has a lot of indoor plants. Somehow he keeps them alive. The house is 70% kitchen 25% plants and the 5% is other stuff (aka Not Relevant).

I'm not sure what they're called in English, but those little gel fuckers you can stick to a window? Yeah that. I'm looking at them as I'm typing this shit. The first person to get them in shape of bloody handprints (again, what I'm looking at, I'm absolutely projecting) is sentenced to death aka a rant from Bessie.

PAINTING OH GOD. Let's be honest, those interested in building/house renovation are divided into two groups. Technical stuff, aka Charles for example, and decorating. They tried to paint on furniture at least once. And it's pretty!! Hey, carving into wood isn't the only option anymore, furniture can be colorful! Those girls on social media that paint furniture and it's funky but also rly pretty??? Yeah that's happening. *glances at mr morgan*

Same for wall decorating. You mentioned Lenny's uhhh right okay i forgot what it was called in the middle of typing. I am. drunk actually. sorry lol. But that wall where he's gonna figure out who appears next? Yeah that was the start. Then came notes for his studies. Someone saw that and had a wait you can do that??? moment. Posters appear soon enough. Abigail wishes she could have double sided tape in Beecher's Hope. Jack's old drawings would be up on the wall, much to his embarrassment. Luckily for him, nothing survived.

I'm so normal abt this au okay

Took a week to reply because this is just a yes and post absolutely 100% nailed it you get it. A+ gold star sticker like lost my mind multiple times over this. Welcome to the timewarp brainrot you get a name badge and t-shirt official uniform of people who just get it. We're all so normal here.

Arthur might have a garden bed outside full of herbs for cooking but Charles is the king of indoor plants. Arthur is banned from touching them because he will overwater them and Charles will give him the quiet treatment. The plants are on the couch if people are coming over Charles will grumble about having to move his plants. The gang absolutely believe they miss 1899 camping so much they are trying to make their house look as much like outside as possible. These are not traditional houseplants there are vines and flowers and a homemade hydroponics set-up growing vegetables.

I love that shit it was Sean he was at least self-aware enough to know he'd get in trouble and put it on the window of his trailer/caravan only to be woken up by Bessie who was originally panicked he'd been hurt and then threatened to hurt him herself for putting bloody handprints on the window like she wasn't meant to panic. Still gives her a heart attack when she walks out. Lenny got annoyed he has no talent for drawing meanwhile Arthur successfully covered the whole kitchen window with mock stained glass that makes the house glow with the whole color spectrum when the sun catches it just right.

Mr Poor rancher John Martson is the worst at hoarding road-side furniture, has accidentally brought bed bugs into the house at least once. However Abigail queen of youtube adores fixing up and painting furniture with Arthur's help if she texts he knows it's a solid 50/50 their sons are in jail OR she needs to borrow the soda blaster again. By borrow she needs him to come over and do it she refuses to learn herself she just likes painting. Loves painting. Best in-laws ever fixing up furniture together. Arthur does the fine details like cabinets with birds and plants painted on the side so intricately.

Lenny's murder wall!! When they realize how much easier it is to pin things to walls than it is tents they all absolutely go nuts. Bessie struggles so much not wanting to interrupt them learning they can express themselves and feel stable enough in their new home to put their own personality into it but Sean goes through a phase of putting up take-away menus instead of posters and photos just because colorful. Abigail is so determined to let Jack be a kid she knows her poor boy grew up way too fast and is still trying to act like an adult despite being 19 she wants him to know he's always her baby. He certainly isn't much of a artist anymore but she will frame serviettes he scribbles poetry and song lyrics on to his mortification. First time she went to a hardware store she 'stole' almost every single paint color swatch and just pinned them up for a bit before realizing wait I can actually... buy paint. First thing she did was paint the kitchen blue. Lets her daughter draw on the walls. The centerpiece is a massive print of the blueprints to Beecher's Hope they found in an history archive, framed above the wall mounted gas heater in place of a fireplace.

[outofangband]

Complex trauma and Angband Series: Hygiene

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

Torture, especially in the deliberate and political sense is designed to eradicate the victim’s sense of self by, among other things, stripping away one’s basic physical needs (food, water, hygiene, rest,) and one’s  basic emotional needs (safety, comfort, belonging, privacy, hope, and identity). It also seeks to damage the relationship that the victim has with these needs.

I have a specific post about privacy that will overlap with some of this

content warnings: general Angband warnings of Captivity and abuse, trauma after torture, etc

Hygiene in Angband is very minimal. The slaves who work in the mines and forges are afforded very little supplies for washing, perhaps a few cloths and run off water if any can be saved and hoarded. Again this is a combination of items sorted through prisoners who have been there for a long time and know what can be saved without punishment as well as supplies given by the overseers.

Prisoners who work in the fortress itself are sometimes allowed a bit more water to clean themselves, depending on where they work, how visible they are, and what role they primarily fulfill. Prisoners who are more clean are often the favorites of various higher-ups who have a vested interest in their appearance or who use access to supplies as coercive ‘rewards’  and thus cleanliness rather than the opposite becomes stigmatized in many ways. This will have more detail on my post about the elves of the upper levels. Sauron’s personal servants of course have a high standard of hygiene as do the elven healers.

Among the small population of human slaves, diseases of poor water, food, and crowded conditions are common There are certain afflictions even the elves are not entirely immune to.  There are healers among them but they too have little supplies and must improvise (and yes I have many ideas for how mushrooms, evil herbs, algae, and other Angband possible ingredients could be implemented)

Access to a proper toilet is also next to nonexistent in much of the fortress. Some of the cells have a bucket but it’s not a priority among the elven prisoners. The slaves in the mines often have nothing while they work and in the forges it’s only marginally better (if only because urine is potentially reactive to some of the substances there). This is consistently demoralizing and humiliating and the level of control over one’s bodily functions is frequently utilized for punishments and even games.

Only in the medical wings and among the personal prisoners of some higher ups is consistent access to a proper toilet the norm.

The effects of all of this are profound and long lasting. Inability to bathe not only is an exertion of control felt acutely by the prisoners, it also often relates to an inability to feel like oneself.

Following captivity, many struggle to integrate bathing and grooming into their routine. Some continue to associate beauty and cleanliness with its associations in Angband.

Just like with other activities it takes great will to make even seemingly simple decisions such as going to bathe. Many survivors of Angband experience a constant dread that they are out of place or will be caught out of place.

Not to mention other aspects of complex trauma such as depression and self image issues as well as physical symptoms like chronic pain can impact ability to care for oneself in this way.

My own headcanons regarding my case studies, Maedhros and Húrin (feel free to request more about this or other prisoners)

-In Angband, I do still enjoy the headcanon Maedhros is bathed primarily when he was presented for some public occasion in the beginning(even before the cliffs he is a trophy…) and it’s harrowing and mortifying and invasive and as much a form of abuse as anything else. Angband is talented at making even and especially the most simple things into a horrible ordeal. This isn’t a common occurrence but it was enough to have an effect on his view of himself

-After Angband baths are very vulnerable especially and he has to relearn his right to privacy and this relates with self image issues. His view of himself is fragmented and he does not recognize his reflection.

-It takes awhile before the image of someone clean and put together in clothes he chose begins to feel like his own.

-The severe physical consequences of his time on Thangorodrim make this harder in the beginning too

-Húrin cares very little for his appearance after his release though at times suffers sensory flashbacks that lead him to try to wash away phantom touches, sometimes to the point of opening old scars.

[22plus15]

yey about the draft thing! (I never understood it anyway and I don’t watch nwsl but it looks like fans are happy about it 👍😅)

very yay!!! i've been reading about the cba all day so i'll explain a bit if anyone's curious ⬇️

the draft is a very american sports thing -- when players decide to go pro out of high school or college (which are very established here rather than academies and reserve teams), they make themselves available for the draft and the worst performing teams in the pro league each season will get the first draft picks so they essentially get the best new players, which is supposed to maintain parity btwn teams and avoid the teams with the most money or pull hoarding all the best rookies

it was integrated into the nwsl pretty much by default -- but as it turns out doesn't work as smoothly for how global of a sport soccer is (clubs have a way bigger pool of overseas players to buy from than other american sports so they don't rely on the draft for new talent) and also takes a lot of agency away from young players. lots of reasons and lots of debate on both sides of it. that's the college draft but what's also been eliminated is the expansion draft, which was when a new team was created they got their free pick of available players (not limited to just rookies) to give them a fair shot, but at the expense of the players who suddenly got traded and had to uproot their lives (among other potential dangers in a post-roe v wade world and with the history of bad actors in women's sports). it sounds good for new teams in theory but in practice it never really works out anyway (just look at utah royals' place on the table lol)

anyway the elimination of the draft is just one part of the cba that was announced today and i really recommend looking into it if this kind of thing interests you! the nwslpa (players' union) secured lots of player protections, much higher salary caps and minimums, guaranteed contracts (i.e. if you get injured or smth, which we know happens a lot in woso these days, you'll still get paid your full salary no matter what), extra bonuses for end of season awards, charter flights (the usa is huge you gotta fly), players' consent is FINALLY required for trades, free agency for all, parental leave and childcare, mental health services, etc etc

and a lot of the same workplace protections will also apply to front office staff and everyone who works behind the scenes at clubs and within the league so it's genuinely a huge step in the right direction for making women's sports leagues truly professional and safe working environments, and also not being afraid to diverge from the model of major men's leagues 👌

of course there's always progress to be made and the elimination of the draft will def come with a learning curve, but this has all been a long time coming and a lot of past nwsl players suffered and were put in a lot of precarious positions that future players will hopefully never even dream of happening to them now 👍

and last thing i promise: i remember answering an ask about kc current having lucy's discovery rights, meaning if she wanted to go to the nwsl she'd have to sign with them or they'd make bank if another team wanted her. that's been eliminated as well so i believe she's a free bird if she ever comes here!