#so can have that setup a little more easily

[naamahdarling]

What are the elevator game and Three Kings?

They're modern folklore/urban legend ritual games games akin to Bloody Mary, spread by creepypasta memes across the internet for thrills and chills. (I actually love creepypasta. There's some excellent horror in the genre. Ted the Caver and Candle Cove are both super cool, those aren't hard to find.)

The Elevator Game supposedly originates in Japan or South Korea, and involves getting into an elevator and pressing the buttons in a certain sequence in order to reach a surreal otherworld, with dire consequences should they fail to follow all the rules. It doesn't have a goal or reward, just the appeal of accessing a creepy alternate reality. It's a fairly popular bit of modern folklore and I enjoy it for its modern yet classic feel and its specificity. This is a game that it is actually feasible to play, unlike a lot of other modern creepypasta ritual games, which can be very complicated.

The Three Kings Ritual is another creepypasta ritual game, and it's a fucking banger. I HIGHLY recommend you read it in full.

It has a great name, great symbolism, a creepy as shit setup, and a genuine chance, I think, at getting something fucked up to happen (in the sense that you could very easily experience some trippy visual distortion and possibly some auditory stuff as well from the white noise of the fan).

It genuinely put my hairs up the first time with these bits (the bolded and italicized bits are of particular note):

Place one chair in the center of the room. ....Place the other two chairs exactly to the left and right, facing your throne. The distance between your throne and that of your queen and fool should be about the length of your arm to each side, more or less. Place the two large mirrors on the queen and fool chairs left and right of you, facing you (and each other). Try your best to have them stand at a 90 degree angle (or else you may get more or less than three kings). If you sit on your throne facing straight ahead (north), you should be able to perceive your own reflection in each of the two mirrors without actually having to turn your head nor your eyes to do so. If you see your own reflection in the corner of your eye, just barely there, then you've done it right.

So you can see how this would lend itself to seeing things. Mirrors are already creepy. With a small light in a dark room, it gets worse. This isn't about a demon or vengeful spirit, just...presences, which is much creepier to me because on some level it feels more plausible.

Look straight ahead, at the darkness. Not at the candle, not at the mirrors, just straight ahead. Eagle-eyed readers surely noticed I didn't say during setup which chair was queen and which chair was fool. That's because it's your job to find out. And from their point of view, you are either their queen or their fool, too. Hence three kings.

Fucking hell.

Again the goal is nebulous. The original text leaves so many things unanswered. Are we to converse with these entities, to ask questions? What the actual fuck happens if you get the angle wrong and get more than two spirits?

All I know is that I am curious. This is absolutely my favorite ritual game.

[exculis]

i want a hand knitting project but i havent gone one lined up right now.

ive got plenty of machine knitting projects but those are all upstairs and also not the same sensation as hand knitting. need to get some neon green yarn so i can make another hat...

[sysig]

Totally unaffected by this gesture of affection, definitely (Patreon)

[caraphernellie]

── 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬.

your blood spills like a glass of fine wine.

pairing: vampire!ellie williams x fem!reader.

summary: Those ice cold hands ghost over your skin, rousing goosebumps in their wake, and your interest piqued from the moment she had proposed her idea to try something new while feeding. But this doesn't feel at all like a mere experiment, no, she's turned you into a feast—and it couldn't just be a coincidence that one of the many dirty fantasies you've had seems to be coming to fruition tonight, could it?

for your information: vampire!ellie, fem!reader. SEXUAL CONTENT. absolutely zero plot - straight up porn. messy, depraved, no decency. utter filth. established relationship. mind reading + dirty thoughts, allusions to reader masturbating. dom!ellie, sub!reader. reader wearing pretty panties. bleeding + blood (a lot of it), bite marks/bruises described - not in appearance/colouration, but the feeling of them. masochistic!reader. dacryphilia. biting. fingering (r!receiving), vampirism makes ellie very strong. there is an instance of face slapping. slight overstim. tribbing. reader gets very lightheaded and tired but still present and in clear mind. a little bit of aftercare. pet names used: good girl, baby, babe.

dear reader, you know i love me some vampires. i don't participate in kinktober because i don't have that kind of motivation + i'm picky with some of the prompts but i randomised some prompts to make something 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 for the start of this month. mostly written by candlelight. i honestly don't like this very much, but i'm sure someone will so i'm posting it anyway. beware, 'cuz she'll make you bleed ౨ৎ

　　WC: 3.9K | ELLIE'S MASTERLIST | BOYCOTT TLOU

Rain falls from the tenebrous sky outdoors, the perfect soundtrack to the book in your hands and the cosy bed you lie in. You haven't felt the need to get up all night, instead opting for a quiet, pleasant moment to catch up on reading. 

Since Ellie's turning last November, you dropped everything to be able to spend more time with your revenant girlfriend—even if it meant losing daylight to adapt to her newfound lifestyle as a nyctophiliac.

But still, you remain comfortable with the thunderous outpour, finding solace in the constancy of the noise and the safety of your bed. Escapism is necessary to your survival, as it's been difficult to navigate the changes, even now, nearly a year later. You'd turned your life nocturnal so suddenly, your family left to wonder why you and Ellie made the switch with no definitive reasoning. 

What exactly could you tell them..? The last thing you needed was their concern. 

God knows what they'd think if you told them who Ellie had become.

It's quiet nowadays, you and Ellie working nights and sleeping in days. Little time to see family or friends, the closeness you once had with them dwindling. You work from six to eleven o'clock most nights, and there's no chance of companionship in the office—you're treated like an outsider.

Life can feel drab with such little socialisation, but your setup is alright. It's comfortable. You can dream life away, easily ignore the loneliness and get lost in mystery novels instead. 

And that's the thing: mystery and doom has never been something that scared you. It is instead something that fills you with curiosity and interest. It was nothing short of intriguing to you when Ellie turned. It was devastating, and yes, it was a fearful time—but the changes she was going through were mystifying before anything else. 

It was fun to document the development of her fangs and play with mirrors. It was hard to get used to the touch that was once so warmly inviting, but now freezing. 

It was mildly disturbing to see her learn the ways of the undead now that her life had taken a turn.

It is, at times, unnerving when she becomes hungry. Purely animalistic is the way that her eyes glow in the dark of night, verdant and snake-like, dressed behind dense lashes. They anchor onto you, more specifically your neck. You had to laugh when a few weeks after her turning, she began senseless rambles about your pretty neck, how your pulse drums against your chest, wrist, or nape in a sweet rhythm.

She might catch a whiff of something coppery when you suffer any minor injury, and she'll be there in under a minute under the guise that she'd like to kiss your wound all better.

It's startling at times, turning around to find she had stalked you through the house without a sound, all in the name of requesting a feed. She follows only to beg for it like a puppy to people-food.

As far as Ellie has ever been concerned, she doesn't need to taste the blood of any other. It would be adultery of the worst kind, a pure betrayal not just to you but to her own interests; your blood is dulcet and delectable, the greatest thing Ellie has had the pleasure to taste in her life. 

Why should she need anyone else? Nothing could make her happier than you. 

Ellie truly has a deep appreciation for you. Everything you have done for her, especially in the past year since her rebirth, has been without hesitation nor the consideration of yourself. Never would she let you go unloved for such a thing. Only a vampire can love you forever, and although her immortality burdens her everyday, she intends to prove that statement true.

There are things she's never told you before, abilities she'd discovered on her own after her turning that she'd decided were better to hide from you, just to preserve your peace of mind. 

It's hardwired in her now—she can become easily overwhelmed just from being able to hear your tender heart beating rooms away. The constant, steady ba-bum, ba-bum. There are urges she gets from the sound of warm, delicious blood pumping around your body. Of course, this is all to be expected, but the extent of it is where the disconcertment lies, unbeknownst to you.

Pangs of hunger hit her like a kick to the stomach, vision zeroed in on the source of feed. Her feet feel inclined to walk her toward you themselves. It's a lucky thing that she tried her best to learn control.

Ellie's biggest kept secret, though, are your own secrets. Who wouldn't toy with the idea of living inside their partner's mind for a day? For a vampire, it's possible, under a specific circumstance. Just like one's resting place, a vampire can only enter under invitation, and each thought bearing her name is exactly that. 

It's advantageous for Ellie. She can hear when you think kindly of her, she knows when you're mad at her—and she can always right her wrongs, make it up to you when she has unintentionally acted like a douche. She somehow always knows just what to say.

"Hey."

"Fuck!"

She flinches at your curse, found crouched beside the bed and resting her chin against the edge of the mattress. She carries herself so silently. Once uncalculated and clumsy, her movements are now faint, unpredictable. Her presence is so startling, though it's partly your fault for losing track of time. She would have finished work in the last half-hour.

"Tch, sorry." Ellie snorts, reaching out to drag a finger down your wrist, up to the crease of your arm. She lets a delicate sigh fall from her lips, head tilting to the side to study you. "I'm home."

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that." Marking your book, you set it down on the nightstand. Her touch sends a rush through your mellow composure, so cold it's sometimes akin to the prick of a needle. You can see it in her eyes, the amusement she finds in your reaction to all her icy touch. "Hi."

Your hand adjusts a wayward strand of hair clear of her face, a gentle petting she hums for. Her grin is laced in mischief, but it's only the calm before the storm. 

Tonight is for Ellie to execute an elaborate scheme she's been preparing for weeks. 

Initially, when she discovered her ability to see into your mind, she had thought it was cute, if anything deeply flattering, that you thought in such lascivious ways about her. As months went on, it became amusing. 

Mundane moments of your shared life were overshadowed by your thoughts, how they could often be so clouded in lust. She's taken note of it all on plenty of occasions.

With her grip soft on your shoulders, Ellie pushes you against the mattress slowly and crawls onto the bed herself. All your brewing questions burn into Ellie's lips as she kisses you, as if she had known she'd need to hush you.

"C'mon." Her words are whispered against your lips, touch so eager she can't resist interrupting herself to place more and more indiscreet kisses now against your jaw. "Lay down."

"Mmh," you hum, watchful eyes peering down at her as she delves deeper into the crook of your neck. "You want a feed? It's early..."

"Oh, I know," Ellie murmurs, "more than that, babe. Just thought about tryin' something a little different, you know, if you're up for it..."

Her nose teases your neck, nuzzling close to take in your scent. Old bruises bitten into the skin pound with a dull sting when given attention, Ellie's hand joining her to rub over the small marks. She quickly takes notice of your heart beating a tad faster and before you can even say yes, she's laying a kiss on your collarbone and a hand over your breast.

"Mhm, so you're… experimenting?"

"I guess, yeah," Ellie purrs, her tone filled with the remnants of a smile. It's hard to keep said cocksure grin off her face at this point, hand trailing down to cup your mound. She eyes the dark, damp patch that grows beneath her hand, the white fabric mauled by desire. Lounging about in panties and a long-sleeve, so characteristic of you in the long nights in which you seek to be comfortable, yet so tantalising to Ellie. "But we can stop it if you don't like it. You tell me what you think."

There is just one particular fantasy you've had, and it stuck with Ellie the minute she heard your thoughts. She'd been having her routine feed many nights ago when you'd let your thoughts wander elsewhere. An idea of a concupiscent manner arose in the midst of a dreadful, painful situation. 

Feeding has always been an unpleasant process. Teeth breaking skin, your lifeblood sucked out of you and leaving you tired for days. 

What if she could make the pain feel good?

It spurred days of planning. After all, it was coming up to be a year since her turning, how else could Ellie celebrate? Is celebration the right call, even? One year of being dead? The morbid idea doesn't exactly spark joy for most. But it's almost like a new birthday, she can't do nothing at all or she'll run stir crazy. Perhaps this—over-analysing your dirty secrets, putting them to good use against you, would be the drop of much needed rain in the current self-proclaimed desert of her life.

"Think you should settle down," Ellie suggests. Her fingers fiddle with the elastic of your panties, pulling the band taut, only to let go and watch it snap against your skin. "You're in for a long night."

Settle down? You wonder just how long this is going to take—what's so special about this experiment? Knowing Ellie, she doesn't take kindly to the idea of waiting for a feed. It's most certainly interesting to see her transform this into something much bigger of a spectacle than the usual. 

Pert goosebumps rise along your body while knife-like fingers cut into your hips and elicit a shiver down your spine. Ellie's lips trail along your neck as she drags your shirt up your torso, revealing your soft breasts to her.

She rests her head in your caressing palm, her own hands sat over your sides. It's almost nonexistent at first, but then you feel it; wet kisses peppered over the swell of your bust, keen fangs grazing over your skin just enough for you to squirm, yet not enough for it to hurt.

The shaky sigh you give incites Ellie to continue, only this time her act is crueller, and she nips at the soft bud at the centre of your tit. Your hand grips her hair then, nipple growing firm at the attention. And Ellie offers nothing but a chuckle to fill her silence, clearly feeling herself responsible to not lose sight of her plan.

"Ah– Ellie." You gasp, her lips latching onto you. With her tongue rolling your nipple in her mouth, Ellie's eyes lock onto yours with a pleased sparkle in them, her thumbs rubbing your sides ever so gently—the starkest contrast to the way she's currently toying with you.

"What?" Ellie asks in the lowest murmur possible, pulling off for a moment before switching to the other side. A careless shrug of her shoulders accompanies her statement of the same tone. "Barely even doing anything to you yet, babe."

Her hands slide down your waist as she loves on your other tit now, fingers tugging below the waist of your panties. Finally, she has given you something to look forward to, and your hips lift all too eagerly to assist her. Ellie pulls back for a fleeting moment to slip the cotton down your legs and expose your wanton core to her. 

"Aw, look at that…" Ellie coos, hands pulling your thighs apart to take a look. You're glistening beneath the lamp-light, a sight not only so beautiful but so tempting to the vampire. Your heart is beating so fast inside your chest, so much so that for Ellie, your heart is louder than the thunderous weather outside. "What's all this about? Is there something you want, baby?"

"You."

"No, what do you want?" Ellie repeats, laughing quietly. The rubbing of her hands on your thighs is only to keep you present, her cold palms jarring enough to keep you from shying away. "Not who."

She knows exactly what you want. If it weren't for the way your thoughts echo in her head, it'd be blindingly obvious from the way your eyes flit to her hands. But being able to know what you want from her is only half the fun. 

It excludes the best part: seeing you shield your gaze out of humiliation, whispering your responses in order to keep everything hush-hush. 

"Your fingers," you mutter, looking at Ellie with your brows knit to the centre of your face. "Seriously, Els, stop tea–"

"You want my fingers?" She questions you now, taking in the puzzled look on your face. Her fingers press against the folds, tips teasingly dipping into your entrance but not quite, only to see it clench and weep. "You want them here? Or maybe here..?" 

Her thumb flicks against your clit almost as though it's a button, each circle her thumb makes around the bud evoking a tiny moan from your lips.

Teasing is where Ellie has always felt she was skilled. She's playful, always a fan of the occasional practical joke here and there, and without a doubt, it shows the most when she's in the bedroom. The reward for it is like no other; you turn into putty, begging her to give it a rest and take things your way for once. And she's certainly committed to giving you what you want tonight, but that won't mean she's going to be any less mean than she feels like being.

"I want–" God, you just can't get a word out, at least not without interrupting yourself with a broken moan every time you try. You swear on your humanity that you aren't that sensitive, but her fingers are so cold. The contrasting temperature of her hand compared to you is startling.

"Hey." She leans closer to you, dark hair falling into her face. She whispers against your neck, and finds it hard to distract herself from it now, knowing what awaits her patient tongue. But she has to remain controlled. "Tell me. Do you want them in here?"

Two slender fingers prod at your entrance again, and you nod. In fact, with little shame in it, you helplessly plead. And so she obliges hastily, slipping the digits in with ease. 

Her calloused fingertips prod at your inner walls, roughly thrusting in and out. Your hand reaches around her wrist, only to be pushed away within seconds. The once silent room is now filled with obscene squelching sounds and moans from your lips, all that accompanied by Ellie's quieter murmurs into your neck.

It should be mentioned that she is not yet biting you, but so meanly sucking your soft skin into her mouth. It can be hard to do so without those large canines pricking you—they get in the way far too often—but Ellie makes an effort just to keep you on edge.

Ellie knows that you're waiting for it, trying to anticipate the bite, and that's not good enough for her. She wants it to come as a total surprise for you. She wants you distracted, embracing the pleasure, only to daze you when you least expect it.

She is usually the spontaneous type, but she's proven herself meticulous when she wants to be.

Plump lips seek the last place she fed from, a small bruise felt in the shape of her teeth right at your pulse point. The thumping of your heart against the very spot leaves Ellie almost tempted to abandon her plan whole, give in to her hunger, but she refrains. Instead she litters harsh kisses over the spot, tongue laving over it desperately.

A loud yelp befalls you as she sucks the very spot, and she chuckles against your skin. "Oh yeah, you like that, baby?"

It should serve as a warning of what's to come later, but you're too far gone to comprehend it. Lost, lost in the speedily building high. Ellie's demeanour changes none, she continues until you can't take it anymore and finally pulls her slicked fingers from your cunt. It seems so final for a second that once you regain your bearings, you question her.

"I thought you were gonna f–"

"Oh, I'm not done, silly girl." Ellie laughs at you softly, pulling her shirt over her head in one fell swoop. She lets you have this mere moment to recuperate, stripping herself fairly quickly. "I'd quit questioning if I were you, and just relax."

She's leaning over you, meeting your lips as gently as she can. She spreads your legs again, wordlessly manoeuvring herself atop your pussy. Bare skin against bare skin, shiny and soaked cores kissing. 

She grunts a short curse, beginning to roll her hips back and forth against you. She's really not sure why she had never thought of this whole feeding-and-fucking thing before you did, but she's wholeheartedly thanking the stars above that she was able to get this idea from you.

"Mmh, Ellie, n- it's so much," you say between breathless moans, unable to muster anything else. That oversensitivity kicks in hard already, with you pawing at Ellie and trying to catch a break.

"Sh-shh, you can take it," Ellie quickly reassures, and she's trying her hardest to keep her composure, but it all goes out the window once you start writhing, pointlessly rambling because you aren't sure if it's too much or if you want more, and now getting handsy. 

At first, she isn't proud of her reaction—bringing her palm down against your cheek, that is, and slapping you hard. "I said, you can fuckin' take it."

Pathetic. The way your voice breaks and lets out a honeyed whine, it's pathetic, but Ellie's conscience feels guilty no longer. She's almost satisfied—and she'd been able to hold back, insisting upon not getting too far ahead of herself here, but she's lost her patience. Her hunger must be sated.

Ellie cages you between her arms, once again finding home in the crook of your neck. This time, she bares her teeth against your throat, finally sinking them in. She's hit with the most addicting flavour on the planet: your blood. A syrupy, warm, and delectably sweet liquid. 

She groans, beginning her feast far too eagerly. She isn't too focused on drinking it yet, still grinding her slippery cunt into yours and nipping all around your neck. Blood spills out of every little bite and trickles down your body. It stings, of course, but the feeling is far away. Underwater.

"You like that?" Ellie asks, voice gritty and yet a little more subdued now. The way that you look, shirt stained wine red and body a quivering mess, is entirely enthralling. Ellie is more than just a little proud of her work here. 

"It hurts."

"That's not what I asked, is it?" Ellie takes your chin in hand, facing you towards her. Shining teardrops streak your cheeks and pill against her hand. Since when were you crying? "Do you like it?"

"Yes." 

 "Good girl." The words are forced out of her throat at this point, struggling, because she's so close. It's filthy, watching you get so worked up over being turned into her very own living blood bag. "Good girl, I'm gonna– gonna fuckin' cum, baby, you feel so good."

She holds you still as she rubs herself over you, clit rolling over yours one last time before she snaps. Ellie moves faster as she rides out the high, glowing eyes rolling back. 

You're growing lightheaded, watching Ellie so intently. Her lips are stained with blood, her cheeks beginning to turn a more lifelike tone—one matching in colour to the elixir trickling from your neck.

And she seems to wait a moment. You think it's over. You sit against the headboard and spot the simplest grin on Ellie's face as she begins to lick up the mess on your collarbone.

"Better than a normal, boring feeding, yeah?" She murmurs, once again slithering her hand to feel the sodden spot between your legs. You attempt to close your legs around her, but she laughs, forcing them open.

It feels all too familiar now, her fingers rubbing your puffy clit in circles and tongue slurping up the blood on your body. She doesn't care to take it from the source, letting you bleed all over yourself so she can lap it up.

It seems so similar to a time you felt lost in your head, the girl of your fantasy off at work. You had been forced to resort to nothing but your imagination, rutting into your own hand—you couldn't help thinking about what would happen if Ellie were there to assist. 

You couldn't stop yourself from wondering what she would do if she let her instinct take over. Your mind overran itself with images of her penetrating gaze, face covered in a smattering of the blood she's so obsessed with, watching her play with her food. It would feel so fulfilling to be at her service in this way. And yet, it seems that it's coming to fruition.

"Oh!" You gasp, restlessly moving against her. "Ellie, Ellie, why're you–"

Never usually do more than a few red droplets spill and stain. Tonight, the ivory sheets are covered in them like a splash of paint.

"I'm just trying to make you feel good." Ellie hums lowly, licking a stripe from collarbone to the bite that's now beginning to clot. "It's working, yeah?"

Voice riddled with tremors, all you can do is reply half as loud as she. "Yeah, fuck, yeah."

"Good." 

Ellie's teeth repierce the nick in your throat, and this time she stays close, gulping down mouthfuls of your blood. You writhe less and less, head gaining that floaty, fluttery, dream-like sort of lightness the more that she leeches off of you. 

Days will be spent recharging, resting, and earning back your strength, but that's the price you're willing to pay. Ellie is a great caretaker.

"Close," you whisper, clear enough for Ellie to hear and pepper sweet kisses up to your jaw.

"You're a dirty-minded girl," Ellie murmurs, finally explaining herself. None of this was her own innovation. It was all you. "But so clever, aren't you? Now I don't have to worry about it hurting you when I feed. Isn't that smart, babe?"

You want to ask how she knew, but simultaneously, you don't really care—this experience is so overwhelming. You can barely lift your eyelids to look at Ellie, can barely speak or do anything but nod anymore. But you feel safe. You know you're in reliable hands, the strong-willed woman sure enough to control her darker urges.

The only words to escape you now are breathless murmurs of her name, and at last your body seems to calm itself after a final release of built-up pleasure makes its rounds through you. 

You are given moments to steady your breathing. A wet washcloth wipes the dried blood off of you, and she's soon encouraging a glass of water and a few sugary snacks into your hands. 

The healing process will be the same as it always is—but perhaps she might have to give you a little more grace this time round.

[vexwerewolf]

If I could ask you for some advice, what do you think helps the flavour text of a mech or piece of equipment sell a player on the fantasy of using it?

I'm finding it frustratingly difficult to do so with my own homebrew content: I can come up with lore and backstory easily enough, but re-reading it feels dry, and I can't help but contrast it with how the descrptions in official content and other supplements is more evocative, at least for mechs.

Let's observe some corebook Lancer flavour text and examine the various varieties it comes in.

Purely Functional

While it's usually not the most fun type of flavour text, this just tells us what the weapon is, and - if it has any particular tags or on-hit effects - why it's like that. The Hand Cannon is a good example: here's what it is (modified pistol), here's why it does more damage, and here's why it has Loading.

The main advantage of Purely Functional flavour text is that it provides space for other types of flavour text to breathe. Flavour text is a great place for jokes, but it's not good for every piece of flavour text to be a joke - the pauses between notes in music are just as important as the notes.

Obfuscating Vendorspeak

The Bristlecrown Flechette Launcher this is a great example of dark humour that Lancer uses quite often: marketing fast-talk to cover up something really unpleasant. The joke here is based on us understanding precisely what the equipment does mechanically, and then seeing how the manufacturer tries to sell it. There's a bunch of dense technobabble here meant to obfuscate the fact that this weapon fires knives in every direction specifically designed to kill infantry.

Deadpan Weirdness

The joke here relies on describing something extremely weird like it's the most natural thing in the world. Wait, you're telling me that in a world where I can just print new parts if the old ones break, they put DRM on my fucking knife and I have to apologise to the fucking knife maker to get a new one? What the fuck, dude? Why are you acting like this makes any sense?!

My sword uploads fucking what to the Space Internet?!

Third-Act Twist

This type of flavour text disguises itself as something else - most often Purely Functional - and then hits you with Third Act Twist. It makes you go "wait, what?!" It's very classic setup-punchline stuff. You're telling me my mech can rot?!

As a side note, Lancer loves to use this for its NHPs.

WHY DID YOU PUT THAT IN SCARE QUOTES, LUCIFER

Worldbuilding

This is similar to the Purely Functional, but instead of just describing technical specifications of the weapons, it puts the weapon in the broader context of the setting's history. Okay, so we know what this weapon is and what it does - why was it built? What was the original use case, and why? Most importantly, what can the existence of this weapon tell us about the world that build it?

Whimsical Aside

This is the insertion of a light-hearted, humanising little insertion regarding how this piece of equipment gets used in the field. This serves to remind us that soldiers aren't cold, unfeeling killing machines: they can be as emotional, irreverent and silly as the rest of us, and they do things like name their mobile bombs...

... or call resupply drones "mech snacks."

The Ominous Out-Of-Context Quote That Explains Nothing And Only Raises More Questions

As I've said in multiple textmash memes, this is basically Tom and Miguel's shorthand for "this technology is Intensely Fucked Up in a way that it is more fun and scary not to explain." This is essentially Lancer's version of SCP's [REDACTED].

You might think this is the domain of HORUS, and you'd be right, but every single manufacturer indulges in these - although IPS-N had to wait until NRFaW to get theirs:

What the fuck do you mean by that, Lancer?

[codecurucho]

One thing I love about qsmp 2024 so far is how much they’ve listened to creators and the community

Pac and Mike now have a way to easily send people to their mini game through the spawn setup quackity mentioned

Tubbo can now read the signs and speech bubbles easier through colour and text combinations. He also wanted trains so they added more dynamic train options

People who want to roleplay now have even more emotes to play with (e.g. the emoji emotes)

People were concerned with the lag and ping, so they’ve considerably optimised it to the point where Cellbit as soon as he logged on noticed the lag was better

Audiences started to complain that there was no incentive to play aside from the egg quests, so they’ve implemented a money system with rewards for playing (e.g. unlocking the nether via paywall)

All in all I think this is going to be super refreshing for the server and the community even if personally I’m a little bit sad that all the builds are seemingly gone :’)

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

previous | next masterlist.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile

word count: 6.2k

content: very juicy chapter. is all im gonnna say.

notes: i cant stay mad at my otps i fear

PART IV — better yet, she wouldn’t care 

“If I have to hear one more handjob joke, I’m gonna lose it. So please tell me you have good news.” 

Lee Fletcher’s dark blue eyes flitted up to yours, his lashes tickling just under his eyebrow when he did. His hands were fiddling with the bandage that wrapped around your hand, but they slowed when you spoke, “Bare with me, newbie.”

You sighed deeply, fighting the urge to fall back onto the cot that you were sitting on — you’d had the stupid bandage wrapped around your hand and wrist for what felt like eternity, but was really only five days. You should be thankful, really, since the last time you’d broken your wrist you’d been walking around with a thick blue cast on for a month, but you couldn’t help but be a little peeved. Capture the flag was today, and you hadn’t trained nearly as much as the others had due to your injury — when you probably should’ve been training twice as much, only because you were new and unfamiliar with the game. 

It was their fault for hyping it up; if they had just shut up about it, you wouldn’t have been as excited about taking part, broken wrist or not. But alas, demigods were barbarians — barbarians who thirsted to beat each other up in a controlled battle. Barbarians who didn’t have any regard for the new camper when they were climbing all over each other to see the freshly posted team setup, and trampled all over their perfectly good wrist. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been standing right in front of the notice board.” Luke had been saying all week. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to accompany you there, then.” You replied every time. 

Lee narrowed his gaze, flipping your hand around carefully in his, kneading at curtain parts of your skin while checking you for reactions. When you showcased nothing but annoyance at your own shit luck, he leaned back with a cheeky smile, “Well, it’s looking good. I don’t think you need this anymore.” 

He lifted up the knot of bandage he’d removed from your hand and threw it with perfect precision into the trash can on the other side of the room, before turning and grinning at you. You couldn’t help but grin back, “You’re the best.” 

“I’m told.” He shrugged, feigning a humble demeanour. You stood, and he did so with you, looking at you pointedly, “But you should still take it easy today. It’s your first game, and you’ve been here for a week. Nobody is gonna judge you for stepping back today.” 

You scoffed, rolling your newly healed wrist around with a small smile, “I’m not stepping back for shit, Fletcher. I’m beating the hell out of Chris Rodriguez.”

“He’s on your team.” 

“I don’t care.” You rebutted. Lee rolled his eyes, but ultimately let you off with a wave. “See you later!” 

The past five days had been fairly tame. When the team setup was posted on Sunday afternoon, everyone went immediately into prep mode for the game. You knew they took it seriously, but you didn’t realise how seriously they did until you found yourself being pulled out of your sleeping bag at five in the morning so you could get a headstart on training with Luke. Although you didn’t see the relevance — after you’d broken your wrist, the boy hadn’t even let you look at a spear, so you woke up at the asscrack of dawn to…sit around and watch him train. 

Thankfully, Hermes had paired up with Ares for once, and Clarisse wasn’t letting you off easily. Whenever she could, she was dragging you to the arena and teaching you how to fight one-handed. So you were more than ready, skipping down the infirmary steps with an easy smile. 

“I think I see you here more than I see you anywhere else.” 

You paused, looking up and spotting Evan, leaning gently on the porch railing. You rounded the steps and stopped in front of him, “Hey. I’ve only been here twice.”

“In…” He checked his imaginary watch, “One week. That’s gotta be a record.”

You narrowed your eyes jokingly, “Okay. I’m still learning, leave me alone.” 

“We’ll see how much you’ve learnt later today.” He quipped, running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, “Good luck.” 

“Thanks.” You slid out, sarcasm evident in your tone. He laughed, and you smiled, rolling your eyes. 

“Come on, clumsy. Let’s get to training.” He began to walk off, and you followed, presumably to where the Hermes team were gathering for last minute preparations. 

For this game, they’d paired up with Ares and Athena, Apollo taking lead for the blue team with Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Red team also had Demeter, and the boys of cabin twelve were on the blue team. It seemed like a pretty good split; or at least you thought it was, judging by the reactions of everyone when they read the pamphlet. You might have been reading it wrong, though. After all, you were crying out in pain and cradling a shattered wrist when it happened. 

Athena was always a good cabin to pair up with, was what Evie had told you when she was taking your measurements for armour. You presumed so, goddess of war and all. But you were a little wary about the Cabin Ten girls — Aphrodite was also a warrior goddess, after all. 

Evan led you around the back of the pegasi stables and through a mudded path. The only reason you hadn’t taken off running in fear that he was leading you to your imminent death was because the wood nymphs were out and about, milling around like bodyguards. They eyed you up at first, but a few of them recognised you from your impromptu baseball session with Luke last week and told them to back off. 

“Here she is, the woman of the hour!” Clarisse exclaimed when she saw you break through the trees. A few people glanced back and smiled at you politely, a sentiment you returned as Evan led you to the front of the crowd where she stood. 

Luke was beside her, and only nodded at you. You nodded back, a glimmer in your eyes that made his hands twitch. 

“Okay, now that our whole team is in attendance, we can begin.” The Ares girl said, conviction prominent in her voice. She was made to lead, that much was obvious. “You all know the deal. I won’t repeat it, not with the blue team so close by, but…” She sent a meaningful look around the whole crew, “You know where to go. We’ve been practising this, and in a couple of hours it’ll be time to bring home yet another win.”

“It’s pretty much all in the cards for us.” Luke cropped himself into the speech, “Cabin Nine have their special machinery but we’ve got wit, power and numbers. We’ll be fine.” 

“Speaking of cabin nine.” Clarisse hopped down from the wooden crate she was standing on, “I grabbed this from them just before the teams went up. Had to make sure they didn’t sabotage it.”

She pulled a long spear out from behind some other boxes, and let it shimmer in the light. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t keep your eyes away from it. Despite it being made from celestial bronze, the forger had clearly done something to make it shine a mesmerising silver. You could see your reflection in it as it glistened under the sun. It was double ended and if you squinted, you could see tiny spikes coiling around the first ten or so inches of each end. The shaft was smooth and engraved with something you could only make out when she walked over and handed it to you. 

“Wait.” You took it out of instinct, weighing it in both hands but giving a shocked look to Clarisse, “This is mine?” 

“You’re damn right.” She smirked, “Jake was having a field day making that thing, couldn’t stop talking about it. Especially when he added these,” She poked one of the spikes that coiled around the shaft and rubbed the tips of her fingers together with a wince, “They’re lethal. You’ll be unbeatable out there with this thing.” 

“Cool.” You gave it an experimental swing, and everyone in your vicinity took a long step back. You shrugged, smiling anyway, “Whoops.” 

You felt very powerful with your new weapon, and now that you had it in your hands, you could marvel at the engravings. They were images, battles fought — a lot of them recognisable. There was Perseus killing Phineus and Polydectes with Medusa’s head, Heracles and the Nemean Lion. There was even an engraving of Tantalus stealing the ambrosia and nectar from Olympus, for some reason. You’d have to ask Jake about that later. 

“We have two hours until we need to gather at the pavilion, so we won’t bore you with details.” A young girl who you’d seen around camp before stood up and addressed the crowd. She was very little, but she exuded authority even at her young age. “But if I see you lazing around, I’ll put my dagger through your foot.”

There was a chorus of nods and murmured agreement, so the little girl stepped back and nodded at Luke, who told them all to go get ready. The crowd dispersed, but you stayed firmly put as the boy made his way over to you, the little girl following behind him. 

“Sunny.” He tried not to smile, but you saw his lips twitch. He gestured to the girl beside him, “This is my little sister Annabeth. Newly appointed Counselor of Athena.”

You raised a brow, impressed, before looking down at the girl with a smile, “Hey, Annabeth.” You introduced yourself, trying not to show her how kind of scared you were for her to not like you. 

Luckily she nodded, “Hi. You better be good with that spear.”

“I’d like to think I am.” You joked. She didn’t laugh, simply telling Luke she was going to brainstorm and left you both alone in the clearing you’d been gathered in. You raised your brows at him, “I think she gets her stoic indifference from you.” 

He cracked a smile then, grabbing your spear from you and weighing it in his own hands, “Yeah. She’s a firecracker.” He looked at you firmly, “Think you’ll be good for this game? It’s not too late to back out.”

You snatched the weapon right back from him, rubbing his finger prints from the shaft with your sleeve and sending him a half-glare, “You just want an excuse to use this instead of me. I’m fine, JoJo.”

He raised a single brow, “Fine. But if you end up back in the infirmary, I’m not gonna kiss your wounds better.”

You smirked, backing away and pointing your free finger at him daringly, “You wouldn’t be able to hold back.”

He laughed, hand on heart, “Right.” 

You were quick to retreat to the Arena where you knew Clarisse was waiting for you. A good chance to break in the new armoury and swing a spear around that wasn’t made of styrofoam or rotten wood. You caught yourself a good sweat in an hour and a half, and Clarisse was covered in bloody dots from those spikes. Even if you were injured, they still didn’t stand a chance against those. It was a comforting thought. 

You would’ve practised the whole time had it not started raining — something that confused you greatly since the camp had a controlled climate. Clarisse just rolled her eyes, though, claiming that Chiron was upping the dramatics for the game. You were unsure that the centaur could just…make it rain, but you went along with it. You’d only been a demigod for a week after all. 

Not wanting to be completely soaked by the time the game started, you retreated back to the Hermes cabin, shortening your spear down with a click and tucking it into your belt loop before you sat down. You were still on the floor, still next to the six year-old who almost always rolled on top of you in the night — you had now perfected your rollover technique to get him off you without waking him up. 

You were re-lacing your combat boots when two shadows loomed over either side of you. Without so much as a glance away from your foot, you said plainly, “Stolls. What do you want?”

A twin pair of scoffs sounded and you just rolled your eyes. The one on the left spoke first, and you thought it might have been Travis, “Bold to assume we want anything.” 

“I mean, we do.” Connor added from your right, and the indisputable sound of a hard slap came right after. “Ow! Asshole.”

“Cut to it.” You moved onto your other shoe now that the left one was wound tight. You were always pretty speedy at tying laces, a fairly random skill but a skill nonetheless. 

“Well…” Connor started. 

“Luke put us on second offence.” Travis continued. 

“But we sorta hate doing second offence.” 

“Yeah, it’s way too much work.”

Connor leaned over your shoulder so his stupid grin was visible in your peripheral vision, “And we heard that you are on side offence. Which has a much lower maiming risk.”

“So you wanna swap spots?” You deducted, looking up from your feet and giving them a blank glance. They nodded, and you sighed, “Ok, first of all, there’s two of you and one of me. You’ll have to find someone else to swap with too.”

“Already done.” Travis nodded, “Sabine loves second offence.”

“Second of all,” You sent them firm looks, “Luke isn’t going to let you change the layout right before the game. Neither is Clarisse and neither is Annabeth.”

“Which is why we aren’t telling them.” Connor said like it was obvious, holding out his hands like he’d presented you with the best idea ever conjured, “Luke and Clarisse are on first offence and Annabeth is on last defence, right by the flag. No one will know.”

“Plus,” Travis sang, wiggling his eyebrows, “This is a perfect opportunity to prove to everyone how badass you are.”

“Yeah, Luke’s had you on a leash since you hurt your wrist.” Connor raised a teasing brow, “Why not show him what you’re made of?” 

You looked between them, and the silence that stretched seemed to serve as an answer because they were smirking at you and pushing themselves up and out of the door before you could utter a word. 

The rain hadn’t settled — Chiron and his dramatics, although it appeared Mr D wasn’t too much of a fan. God or not, he still got wet with the rest of them. You stood between Luke and Clarisse, the former shielding both your heads with his black jacket — Annabeth ended up squeezing between the two of you when she couldn’t keep up with her I’m too good to hide from the rain facade. You took it as a win, she was warming up to you! 

“Welcome to our first capture the flag of the summer!” Chiron bellowed, pausing for the cheers that resounded. “The usual rules are enforced. Magic weapons are permitted, the flag must be prominently presented with no more than two guards no less than ten yards from the flag! No killing or maiming, and no gagging or bounding of prisoners. Let the games begin!” 

There was a loud echo of cheers and battle cries as the first conch sounded — they only had twenty minutes to get into position and then they would be permitted to cross the creek into enemy territory. Annabeth was quick to gather up the flag guards and send them off to their agreed location with nothing but a sharp eye before she was pulling together the defensive lines and sending them off too.

“Hey.” Just before you could walk off, Luke grabbed your attention, levelling his eyes with yours as best as he could from under his helmet. He adjusted yours and patted your shoulders, “You got this, Sunny.”

You nodded, “Damn right I do.” 

It was hard to navigate the woods in the rain, which was still pouring almost torrentially over them. The forest floor had grown slippery and wet with the new downpour, but the campers traipsed through it roughly, boots squelching as they moved. You followed the side defence through mud and grass, dodging branches and puddles until you couldn’t hear the chatter of Luke and Clarisse from behind you. Then you stopped, and just ahead of you, Sabine did the same. 

It wasn’t long before Connor and Travis were pushing through the trees and greeting the pair of you with wide grins. Sabine rolled her eyes, “Shove off, punks.”

Then she was storming in the direction they came from, and you had no choice but to follow. It was hard to keep up with her long strides, but whenever you lost her in the fog you just followed the sound of her annoyed mutters. 

“Stupid kids. Can’t be trusted on last offence let alone second. It’s not fair. I punch one kid for cheating and Luke sends me to side defence. Side! Stupid punk has been out of it for too long, needs a reality check.”

You didn’t bother responding — whether you were going to agree or come to Luke’s defence, you had no idea. You just followed her to the edge where the second offence was lined up just past the edge of the shore. Evie and Evan gave you the same confused look. 

“Those Stoll fuckers wanted an easy out.” Sabine spat, pushing a stray curl back under her helmet and heaving her giant club over her shoulder. 

The twins didn’t question or fight the decision, simply shrugging and going back to where they were tracing their own tic tac toe game into the wet sand. You stood idly, hands fiddling with your belt buckle before the second conch sounded. Almost immediately did the first and side offences cross the creek and disappear into the woods, while you pulled your spear from the ground and followed the twins and Sabine across the water moments after they were gone. 

Then it was a waiting game. 

“Fuck Apollo, Marry Athena and Kill Hermes.” 

Evie scoffed, shaking her head, “No. No way. Athena would be way controlling as a wife, you gotta bag Apollo.” 

Sabine hummed, “No. I think Athena and I would be unstoppable together.”

You looked up from your shoes and between the three that stood before you. It had been two hours and the most action you had was seeing one of your own teammates get flung right back over the creek by some cabin nine contraption that you were not too keen on meeting. Your spear rested across the back of your shoulders, your arms swung around the shaft at either side as you contemplated your own answer. 

“No, see —“ You huffed, “I couldn’t marry Athena, but only because she conjures babies with her brain. I could never win an argument, I know that for sure.”

“But we all agree on killing Hermes, right?” Evan butted in with a laugh that was immediately shared by the rest of them. He settled down and squinted for a moment, “Ok. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Iris, Nemesis and…Hypnos.” 

There was immediate discourse, everyone speaking up at once with their own opinions. Sabine thought Hypnos would be a terrible lay — He’d fall asleep halfway through! — but Iris would be overbearing as a wife. Evie said Nemesis would be the best wife, she’d never let anyone hurt you, and you were just about to add on that Iris could let you eavesdrop on other people’s conversations whenever you were bored when a loud crack echoed through the trees. 

Then it was quiet. You all shared silent looks, baring your weapons and facing the enemy side. 

Another crack, a snap of a twig. Then a crash, like something being dropped onto a pile of leaves. 

A scream, and a manic son of Aphrodite breaking through the trees and aiming a large Kopis at Evan, who was quick to defend with his dual wielding swords. His teammates followed, and the rest of you jumped into action — you were only slightly panicked when you realised your opponent was a Hephaestus kid who was nearly double your height. 

You’d seen him around sometimes, he was only a year or so younger than you. Same age as Clarisse, and definitely the same level of skill in battle. What made him even scarier was that he fought with nunchucks…fucking nunchucks! And he was good with them, too. 

But you had been taught well. You were quick to defend your body and use both ends of your spear to deflect each nunchuck from making contact. At one point, he clipped your arm pretty hard, and that was when you realised they were ribbed along the edges making for a harder hit. You bounced back though, swinging every which way and not letting him touch you again. 

Briefly, you could hear your peers’ own battles. There weren’t any shouts of pain, or cries for help, so you put all your focus on the boy before you. He had a height advantage, and swung his weapon down on you fairly often, which left your torso open when you held your spear over your head. But your reflexes were like lightning, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t land that second hit. 

Fuelled by his own frustration, he lunged forward and tried to wrap the chain of his chucks around the shaft of your spear. He attempted to no avail a couple of times, but then he clicked a button on one of the shafts and released a crackle of energy along it. You were shocked momentarily by the reveal of his electric nunchucks that you faltered in your defence and he managed to wrangle your weapon in his own on the third try. You pulled back hard, trying to regain control and prevent his disarm, but he just pressed that damn button again and this time the volts ran through his chain and up the entire length of your spear. 

The crack that resounded was huge. Too huge to have come from those tiny nunchucks.  

Where you were expecting a sudden and painful shock through your hand and arms you instead felt a massive give. You stumbled back, shocked, but regained your footing before you could fall onto the wet ground. Your spear was in your hands, and the nunchucks were still wrapped tightly around the middle. You looked up from them to see their owner crumbled in a heap on the ground, nursing his painfully red hands while the rainfall soaked his clothes even more. 

You’d completely forgotten you weren’t alone until one of his teammates dropped their shield and ran to his aid. You looked up, expecting to meet the dumbstruck eyes of Evie and Evan, only to see their gazes fixed elsewhere. You turned your head. 

There in the grass was a giant streak of black, stretching along the shore for nearly five metres. It took a second for you to realise that it was embers — the ground had been burnt completely from where you stood to where it ended. And standing just before it was Luke and Clarisse — the blue team's flag in hand. They weren’t moving, they were staring at the burn in the floor, at you.

Your chin wobbled a little until the echo of the other team reached your ears. You looked at the pair urgently, “Move!”

And they did. Even when the blue team kids you’d been fighting  before tried to stop them, they were held back and Luke and Clarisse led your team to an easy victory. 

They cheered, and the conch sounded. Chiron emerged through the wood and smiled at them in congratulations — the whole spark debacle was nearly forgotten, campers too busy either cheering or groaning to notice the burn streak on the floor. Chiron did, though, and soon though the short lived celebration quieted down as he asked about it. 

Eyes turned to you. You shrugged, “I don’t…I don’t know what happened, it just —“

But then there were gasps. All around you. And suddenly Chiron wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the space above your head. And then so was everyone else. 

When you looked up, squinting past the rain, and your eyes fixated on that glowing lighting bolt that floated above your head, the world went quiet. A week of hearing everything about the glory of being claimed — how at ease you would be, how reassured you would end up. None of it was true. Because for some reason, the symbol that hung above your head sent nothing but trepidation running through you. 

You almost missed Chiron's next words,  

“Zeus. Law Maker. Striker of Lightning. King of Olympus. All hail.” He shouted your name, but it didn’t feel right in your ears, “Daughter of the Sky God.”

When you couldn’t stand the sight of it — when it started to make you feel sick, when the picturesque summer camp you were finally finding yourself in started to feel tight and uncomfortable, you looked down. Everyone was kneeling, eyes on the ground. It was comforting that they weren’t staring at you anymore, but when you searched the crowd for those baby brows that held you down, they were fixated firmly on the mud. 

After your claiming, Chiron dismissed everyone sharply. They left, all talk about the capture the flag win long left behind and replaced by canards about you and your family. Your lineage. You were very prepared to stand frozen on the other side of the creek for the rest of the day but the centaur ushered you into his office in the big house just as the rain stopped. 

The next hour was a muffled blur. You felt as if you had just been plunged underwater and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears — you vaguely registered Chiron and Mr. D asking you a load of questions about your childhood and whether there were any signs of your parentage along the way. You couldn’t answer that. 

They Iris-Messaged your mother — who was in her office and jumped up startled when the call came through. You might have been in a hazy funk, but you could tell the surprise on her face when Chiron informed her of your claiming was genuine. She’d had no idea. That, out of all things, angered you the most. 

“This new information will have caused quite a stir in Olympus.” Was one of the last things he said, “But you should be fine, since you’re seventeen.”

“Why does me being seventeen mean anything?” 

Zeus’ Cabin was subpar to say the least. Alright if you’re only going in there to worship the guy, not so alright if you’re planning on living there. There weren’t any beds, but there were alcoves lining the walls that you tucked your sleeping bag into so you didn’t have to look at the giant statue of Zeus that stood at the end of the room. For good measure, you chucked a spare blanket over its head — he could smite you for it, you didn’t really care anymore. 

You zoned back into reality when a knock sounded on your door, and you realised it was nightfall. Dinner time. You stood from your perch on one of the many benches that sat in the room — you thought they’d have better use in the pavilion, where Hermes kids were practically falling off the benches there were so little of them — and headed over to the huge double doors, heaving one open and breathing deep at the workout it took just to see who was at the door. 

It was Evie, and for some reason that made a pit of disappointment form in your gut. You sent her a weak smile nonetheless, “Hi.”

She smiled back, full of pity, “Hey. Just thought I’d come check on you, we haven’t seen you in hours.”

“I didn’t like them staring at me.” You said plainly, stepping out into the open air. The rain had stopped now, the sky clear, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, I get that.” Was her heartfelt reply. You felt bad for being so plain with her, but there was really only one person you wanted to see, “But, um, it’s dinner right about now. Wanna…come with?”

You didn’t really wanna, but you were starving and almost certain that nobody would be bringing you any food, so you shrugged, “Sure.” 

The large door shut on its own when you stepped away from it, and Evie jumped at the sound. You folded your arms and walked alongside her in silence until you were forced to part at the pavilion. She tried to say something — maybe a goodbye, a good luck. Maybe a we can’t be friends anymore because you’re forbidden. You didn’t stick around to check, walking over to the empty Zeus table where you unfortunately belonged. 

You filled your plate, hungry from the workout of capture the flag and exhaustion from the day, but your appetite was ruined when you saw Luke walk in and avoid your eyes completely in favour of sitting at his usual spot at the Hermes table. You hadn’t seen him all day, he hadn’t seen you, and yet here he was; ignoring your existence like he used to. It sort of hurt. 

So you dropped your fork, leaned your elbows on the untouched wood and stared at nothing. Only hours earlier were you at the top of your game, happy and ready to use your skills in capture the flag, show your friends what you could do. Now? You were completely alone, completely miserable, and completely ready to go back to Vermont. 

You wanted nothing more than to climb into your bed and cry. 

People started to stand. Heading in the direction of the campfire that you were definitely going to skip. Some Hermes kids stood, Luke included, and started a slow stroll down there too, past your table and down the hill. Chris was talking animatedly to his friends on either side of him, but Luke didn’t look very happy with whatever it was he was saying. Before you could build up the courage to call out for him, beg him to look you in the eyes and still stay your friend, he was shoving Chris roughly, the boy falling into your table with a grunt. 

“What the hell, man?” He sneered, brushing himself off. Luke just glared. He scoffed, “You’ve changed, bro. And not for the better.”

Then he was walking off in a huff, and his friends were following him. Luke met your eyes for half a second before storming off in the opposite direction — and with the influence of the tug on your heart, you followed. 

He was halfway to the Hermes cabin when you caught him, and you were thrown back to the time he got into that…thing with Dean from Ares and you chased him all the way up the hill. This time, it was down, and you were a lot less out of breath when you reached out and tugged on his elbow. 

He turned to you, “What?”

You paused, hand falling to your side. You swallowed, shrugged, “I…uh…”

Luke tightened his jaw, eyes flicking above your head like if he looked at you any longer his facade would break. He took in a deep breath and met your gaze once more, “Go to the campfire.”

“What —?”

“Go to the campfire.” He was backing away, “Entertain your fans, give out autographs. Conjure some more lighting. I don’t know. Do something, but don’t do it here.” 

You weren’t having that. Your gaze hardened, “Hey. You’re not allowed to say that to me after you ignored me all day.”

“I —“ He went for a rebuttal, but came up short, licking his lips in frustration. “You disappeared.”

“I was in the Big House, being interrogated.” You explained, annoyance clear in your tone, “I would’ve liked it if my best friend was waiting for me when I got out but unfortunately he decided he hated me like everyone else and I had to cry alone in my cabin.” 

He paused then, taking slow steps back towards you and meeting your saddened gaze. His brows furrowed, “I’m your best friend?” 

You cracked a tiny smile, “Of course you are, idiot.” 

His nod was barely there, but you saw it. You also saw his smile, small like yours and gone in a flash. “I don’t hate you.” He said, “I don’t care that Zeus is your dad. It’s just…”

“He forgot about me.” 

“What?”

You shrugged, folding your arms. There, standing in the middle of the cabins and staring at Luke Castellan, you admitted out loud what you’d been avoiding since you left the Big House, “Zeus. He forgot about me. That's why I never got attacked by monsters, because my deadbeat father was so busy turning his kid into a tree that he forgot he had another one.” 

Even under the tears brimming in your lids and through the lump on your throat, you saw Luke flinch. A minute movement, but you caught it like you caught all of his other details. The freckle on his eyebrow, the scar on his forehead that other people missed because they were too busy staring at his big one. The flinch when you brought up the tree. Thalia Grace, is what Chiron had called her. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” He said in a low murmur. “Thalia was a friend of mine and Annabeth’s. Brought back some rough memories.” 

“Oh.” You breathed, “Oh, gods. I’m so sorry.” 

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his torso before you could think about it. Big bad Luke definitely didn’t like hugs, but there you were; hugging him and staining his camp shirt with your salty tears. You couldn’t help it — you were so full of emotions that a single hug that he hadn't even reciprocated was bringing you to tears. 

Then he hugged you back, and you started bawling. 

Bawling like a baby into his chest while he stood there and held you. Crying about your dad who forgot about you, your sister who died while you lived a happy life, your nonexistent purpose in life because you were over sixteen now and there was nothing for you. Maybe being a forbidden kid was enough, but not really. You weren’t forbidden enough for them, apparently. 

“Sorry for shoving Chris.” He spoke into your hair. You pulled your head back enough to meet his eyes, “He was saying shit about you and Thalia and it pissed me off. I know that you want me to be better, happier or whatever, and I am trying but…”

“I don’t care.”

His lips shut with a smack, “What?”

You let out a sad chuckle, “Be miserable. I don’t care, I like you for who you are. Plus, I get it. Y’know? This isn’t the happiest life.” 

Luke looked at you with an expression so genuine and heavy that it sort of scared you, but you let it burn you. You’d let him burn you forever more. Then he let out a breath, tinged with relief, and relaxed his forehead onto your own. You stayed like that, heads pressed together and arms wrapped around one another, until footsteps bled into your ears. 

You pulled away from each other and spotted Annabeth, who was making her way over very quickly, trudging through the grass that was still wet from earlier. 

“Anna Banana.” Luke squinted, his new way of smiling, “What are ya’ doing over here?”

The girl stopped between the two of you and ignored her brother in favour of looking at you, “So, you’re Zeus’ kid.”

“Yup.”

“I knew your sister. She was my sister, too, for a bit.” She said, and you thought it sounded sad, but the girl hid her emotions well. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged — it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Zeus’. You sent her a kind smile. 

She returned it, glancing at Luke then, “Don’t call me that.” 

He chucked, patting her on the head and yanking on one of her braids. She huffed and smacked his hand away, but smiled nonetheless. Then she looked back at you, “You were good with that spear today. Maybe Athena could pair up with Zeus for the next game.”

“Maybe they could.” You nodded. 

She nodded back, before announcing her departure and heading off. You looked at Luke with a proud grin, “She likes me.” 

He smiled fully, amused, “She does.”

“You like me.”

A little sheepish, “I do.”

“So who cares if daddy dearest doesn’t?” You settled on, tilting your head, “We got each other.” 

Luke nodded, and you admired the way he looked. He was handsome, that you knew, but he seemed particularly beautiful under the moon, alone with you.

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @ma1dita @woodlandwrites @tsireyasgf @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @fennecswife @csifandom @evilwrongdoer @blueberryjune @dancing-inasnowglobe @acidaciruela @solshaven @rosieandthethorns @sofiacblair @obxstiles @lukecastellanirl (comment to be removed/added!) (also sorry if some of these didn’t work idk what’s going on)

[howtofightwrite]

For a character that virtually can’t die and regenerates in order to keep living, how do you make action interesting? Emphasize they still feel pain, why they’re doing it?

I'm actually going to step back a bit from this question first, and complement it. This is a very honest question, and something most writers who include violence in their work, should really think about. Even if you don't think you have characters like this, you do.

Now, I'm going to dunk on Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw for a moment. Ages ago (I think it was in one of his Resistance reviews), Yahtzee described, “threatening to blow up the world,” as the laziest form of raising the stakes. Because, “hey, I live on a world.” He's mostly correct. Threatening your protagonist's life is even lazier. In the vast majority of cases, your audience knows you won't go through with it. That you won't kill off your protagonists.

With that in mind, when you decide your protagonist is completely immortal, that changes less about how you write them than you might expect. The biggest difference is simply that they're directly aware of their plot armor, rather than them engaging in faux indecision based on their perceived mortality. Again, this is something that every writer who uses violence should think about, at least a bit. It is natural for a character to fear for their life, and have reservations about risking their life, but making the part where your character's lives are on the line isn't automatically suspenseful. In a lot of cases (consciously or not), your audience will call your bluff, when you threaten to kill off a major character.

If you think back to major character deaths where something drops them without warning, part of what makes those scenes work is the lack of (apparent) setup. The writer didn't spend pages teasing you with the idea, they just went for the throat and ended that character on the spot. This is more respectful of your audience, because you're not telling them, “well, I might kill this character, or I might not.”

To be clear, I'm not saying that there's no place for teasing your audience with a character's impending demise, just pointing out that in a lot of cases, this won't generate the kind of suspense you'd hope for.

So, to get back on topic, how do you make it interesting? Remember that while this character can't die, the same is not true for the characters around them. Depending on the tone you're going for, you could create an absolutely brutal crucible effect, where everyone around your immortal gets burned off, sooner or later. Whether that's literal, or figurative, is up to you. Even if your character can't die, watching people they care about suffer and die is going to have an effect on them.

You probably don't need to draw special attention to the physical pain they experience, but you do want to be aware of it. Especially in the context of how pain affects the victim's behavior. Beyond that, there is probably an element of pain being far more annoying to the immortal than it would be to a normal person. They know it's not telling them anything meaningful, but it is distracting.

Long-term, both of these can easily result in personality shifts. And, legitimately, this is a scenario where a character may be immortal, but they would still experience significant changes over time, and with the growing emotional pain, could have very adverse effects on your personality. This does have some very real, “live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” potential. How many friends can you lose before you stop caring? How many funerals can you attend before you start taking the phrase, “you're either part of the solution or part of the problem,” a little too far? How many times can you pick yourself up off the pavement a blood-covered alleyway, surrounded by corpses, before you start to forget what made you human in the first place?

And, that's not the only option. The simplest answer for maintaining tension when one of your characters is immortal is keeping your eye on what they're trying to accomplish. Keep track of their objectives, because I guarantee they can fail those. Even just keeping their own nature concealed from the mortal world is probably fairly important, because of the idea that men in hazmat suits will drag them away to some research lab and poke them until they figure out how to replicate their immortality, is a classic (and potentially plausible) threat. (Bonus points, if you're wanting to loop in something like the medieval inquisitions, or some other secret societies that could pose this kind of a threat.)

So, what do you do? To dig out an old cliché threat, “there are fates worse than death,” and it's probably worth exploring them. This also opens up new possibilities for threats. Finally, it's worth remembering that immortality does not guarantee success. If your character is hoping for that, it might be time to give them a very harsh lesson.

-Starke

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[silovsmenot]

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs

SUMMARY: A first meeting with a certain Latvian goalie, a surprise that leaves him thinking of you ... And an unexpected reunion thanks to injury. WARNINGS: So much fluff, poor Latvian language - if you're a Latvian native, please excuse me, I'm still learning. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilov & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: This was the very first idea that I had, and it's been a brainrot ever since. This could very easily be a multi-part, because the brainrot is real. Okay so little Latvian lesson: 'sveiki' is an informal form of hello and 'piedodiet' is sorry. WORD COUNT: 2147 FIND PART TWO HERE

New job, new city — you were beyond excited to get started with your new life in Vancouver. It was a dream come true, a sports photographer for the Vancouver Sun. You’d be covering everything from soccer to basketball, and your personal favourite, ice hockey. It couldn’t have been better.

It had only been a few weeks and you were still pretty starstruck by the whole situation. The smile had rarely left your lips for everything felt so right. As you drove to the Abbotsford Centre, your music turned to loud as you sang along to your favourite song — life was good. And today promised to be another good day. You were helping to cover a story of the Vancouver prospects in Abbotsford and how they were developing within the AHL affiliate, while your partner would be interviewing players at the rink side and in changing rooms, you’d be snapping the shots of the training session.

It promised to be a lot easier than your usual days, training sessions were a lot more relaxed than game photography. Even with their game against playoff rivals looming, you knew it would be a calmer atmosphere than the alternative.

With the heavy camera bag upon your shoulders, digits scraped back your hair as you walked, tied back as you always did while working. Nodding across to your partner who stood waiting at the large rink doors, he held out a coffee to you, which you gratefully accepted with a quiet ‘thank you’. You two were close, like siblings — natural partners and you always delivered high tier work together.

“The boss wants some focus on the goalies, see what you can do, y/n.” He muttered as you walked, both sipping quietly at the hot liquid. From where you were, you could already hear the shouts of training, the crash of the puck against glass and the slapping of sticks upon the ice. It was a sound you knew and loved.

And as your partner pushed open the door, the bright lights of the rink lit everything up. You both moved quickly with a light tapping of both coffee cups in luck, your partner immediately gravitating to the head coach who lingered beside the boards, while you would weave onto the bench and begin your setup. Lens mounted onto the camera body, fixing your settings to this particular arena until you were happy with your picture. It was simply second nature now.

You stood beside the boards, camera switching from player to player with smooth motions as the camera clicked. Turning to each goalie, your camera would linger with the rhythmic clicking — you didn’t need to know all of the story, but a focus on the goalies was always a popular one. Players being called up to the NHL happened so regularly, it was hardly a story, but goalies? Now that got people ticking.

As the session progressed, you watched your partner question each player who came to the bench for water before they’d even had a chance to breathe. You would simply smile at each person, almost sympathetically, and do your job with the clicking of the camera.

Even as the young goalie skated over, angling toward the bench where you stood with a hand outstretched for a bottle, your lips presented a small smile as you waited for your partner to pounce. But as he was too wrapped up with Tolopilo, this goalie was left in silence … for a moment at least. You knew a little about him, of course. A young guy from Latvia, drafted a few years ago now, with a bit of a rocky start to the season. His eyes met yours as the blue and green mask was raised from his face, lips curled into a smile at the first glance.

You spoke without a second thought. It had been some years now since you ended things with your ex, but you’d spent a few years learning Latvian for them — it had been years since you had any reason to use it. 

“Sveiki…” 

Artūrs blinked. The smile on his lips disappeared as confusion was etched in its place. He’d been in Canada for a while now, with only the occasional passing player conversation to give him that little piece of home. He’d never expected this woman to come out with that.

“Sveiki.” The goalie quietly replied, leaning his weight forward upon the boards beside you. “You’re Latvian?”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh slipping through your lips as the camera lowered, your body turning to almost mirror his as you leaned upon the boards.

“I’m not Latvian, but my ex was. I learned some from when we were together.” 

As you spoke, he watched you closely as the smile returned to his face. A smile that you couldn’t help but find contagious. He nodded slowly, thinking silently to himself before his blocker hand began to shake. The glove removed, his hand wiping upon his jersey before it was offered across to you with a grin.

“I’m Artūrs,” He spoke with a little more confidence, capturing your gaze beneath his dark eyes. They were easy to get lost in as you looked at him. “But this lot mostly call me Arty.” 

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Arty.” You hummed as your hand came to meet his, a slight look of amusing disgust at the sweaty hand of the goaltender. Needless to say it was enough to make the young goalie laugh.

Releasing his hand with a playful swat, you too would wipe your hand upon your jumper as he laughed. You couldn’t blame him, and you too found it funny, but a sweaty hand was not  what you wanted.

“Piedodiet.” He spoke through the laughter, head cocking as he watched you. Your eyes narrowed playful in response to his apology.

“I’m not sure that I believe that you’re sorry.” You found yourself teasing in response, the camera growing heavy in your hands as it sat idle. If your partner looked over, it would look as though you were helping him with his job — but far from it. You were enjoying yourself, more than you realised at the time.

He gave no response, just the rising and falling of his brows. A cheeky grin at his lips as the hand returned the blocker, the bottle returned to it’s place on the boards.

“Will I see you around here more?” Arty called out as he took a few strides away from where you stood. He hoped, silently, that you’d say yes. That you’d be back to photograph and chat more. For whatever reason, he wasn’t quite sure yet, he wanted to see more of you.

It was your turn to stay silent, shrugging with shoulders and hands. You had no idea if your job would bring you back to the Abbotsford Centre, but you hoped that it would.

And as the training session came to end, your partner returned to you with a notepad full of notes and a voice recorder full to burst, you gave a lingering glance back to the goalie as he took his first steps from the ice, and met your eyes with a smile.

Months passed and you had often thought of the grinning Latvian goalie of the Abbotsford Canucks. Your job hadn’t taken you back to the little suburb of Vancouver, though you’d occasionally catch the games on TV. A little curiosity peaking as you’d remember the conversation with him — sometimes, you’d catch yourself smiling as you thought about it. You’d watch his games when you could and read the news in which he featured.

You couldn’t say that you missed him, you barely knew him, but you wanted to know him … You wanted to be able to miss him.

March rolled around, the end of the regular season was in sight and you’d taken the lead in photography coverage of the Vancouver Canucks for a while now — you’d become a regular at the Rogers Arena, and knew most of the faces of players, staff and partners. You’d even become friends with a number of the wives and girlfriends. You were a familiar face to all.

And you were one of the first on the scene, with your partner in tow, at the announcement of the press conference. Demko’s injury was the worst kept secret in the city, and you’d all been waiting for them to announce it. To know which lucky goalie was getting the call up from Abbotsford.

Journalists and photographers piled into the large room with whispers and nods of acknowledgement. Everyone waiting for Tocchet to make the announcement, and your heart skipped a little beat when he did … for the grinning goalie, Artūrs Šilovs would be taking up the role of back-up in Demko’s absence. 

You wasted no time in getting down to the rink following the announcement, you knew that all the reporters would be clamouring for a word with the captain and the rookie goalie. As the flood of journalists began through the arena, the players were already leaving the ice with only the two goalies remaining with Clarkie. Many left to find the captain and coaches, while a few photographers, yourself included, would snap what shots they could of the two goaltenders.

Your stomach did a spin to see him again, the grin seemingly stuck with glue upon your lips — it had been months, surely he wouldn’t not remember you, you thought. But as his eyes glanced across to the wall of photographers, his gaze did linger upon you. Beneath his mask, he did grin. He’d spent months hoping to see you in Abbotsford, at his training or his game. It was a bitter disappointment when another photographer had been sent down in your place.

And as the nod was given for both goalies to leave the ice, little else mattered to him than making a beeline to you.

“Sveiki.” Arty immediately said as the helmet was raised, drifting on his skates just in front of you. Your smile spread instantly, quietly returning the hello with a hum. “I need to change, but please don’t run off.”

With a curious look etched upon your features, you silently nodded. It was the end of your working day anyway, you needed to sort through the photos of the day, but you could do that while you waited.

So sat upon a chair in the stands, laptop open and photos running through, you edited and submitted your best to your partner who would return to the office to write his piece. Gaze would snap up at the first sound of movement up the steps, it was strange to see him out of his goalie gear and in normal, casual clothing. A pair of jeans, a jumper, and glasses? There was something unexpected about that, but they suited him well. You liked the glasses' look.

“You didn’t come down to Abbotsford again.” He quietly said, the disappointment clear in his voice and on his face. And you felt the sting — but you also felt the twist in your stomach of excitement … he’d wanted to see you again, he’d thought about you.

“They moved me solely to these guys. I’m barely away from this rink now, Arty.” You sighed, hand closing the laptop which rested in your lap. You’d hold it there, fiddling with the corner as you thought. “I watched some of your games from home. I should’ve come down for one or two … to watch.”

“Do you want to go for a coffee, y/n?” Artūrs interjected, impatiently and abruptly. It was almost like he had to get it out before he could stop himself, and he was noticeably nervous as he waited for an answer.

You took a moment, watching him fiddle with the hem of his jumper as he waited — yet his smile never wavered. It was stuck, just as yours was.

“I’d like that.” You finally spoke, returning the laptop to your bag without breaking eye contact. The weight in his chest lifted immediately, a heavy exhale parting his lips as he nodded. You rose with a struggle, the camera bag always seeming to be heavier in that first moment, and Arty was quick to assist. His hand offered out, collecting the strap from your hand as it was slung onto his back with ease.

You walked from the arena together, both grinning wide with occasional glances at the other. A comfortable silence between you, it was simply a nice feeling to walk at each other’s side.

“Es priecājos jūs atkal redzēt.” He finally spoke, breaking the silence with words you didn’t quite know. Your Latvian limited to basic phrases that you learned to speak to your ex’s family during the holidays. 

“What does that mean?” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

“I’m glad to see you again.”

And your heart skipped a little beat.

[ftmkinki]

Update all text in red before posting

Edit: this isnt complete, pls feel free to ignore

I love the idea of buying a house thats SOOOOO cheap because of reports of "ghosts". And then, having very kinky experiences with them ;) so i wrote a story about it!

FTM!Reader x ghosts you/your they/them pronouns only

Cnc, free use, bondage, ghosts (obviously), tags updated as i write more

Nsft under the cut 💗💗

You scoff at the idea that such a good house was sold for a meager 20,000 because of stupid rumors. It was big, didnt need repairs, had a beautiful fenced in garden, was in the perfect location, good neighborhood, far enough away from neighbors that you can be loud without consequences but close enough to get to everything easily. You kept an eye out for what was really wrong all through the moving process, but nothing showed. It really was just horrible reputation that gave you your absolute dream home!

You had all your stuff moved from your previous apartment (and your parents/friends place because there was ZERO storage in your apartment) and after a long long day of setting up, your bedroom and living room were ready for you to spend your first night there!

That night you decide to really treat yourself. Destress in the best way a single person can in your opinion. You get dressed up in your sexiest lingerie top and pair it with a set of peek a boo panties and thigh highs with garters, a collar, and grab a pair of nipple clamps (with attaching chain) and a bullet vibe. After everything is on you in just the way you like and the vibe is securely affixed (but off) to your tdick with body safe tape you start to prepare for a proper welcome to your new house.

As soon as you bend over to peel back the blankets and get ready, you feel a spectral hand caress your ass. You shoot up, shocked and a little afraid. You see nothing behind you when you turn around though.... after a tense moment you decide it was the wind and the stress of moving that made you think that; and set about continuing the final setup of your destress night.

You're arranging pillows and setting the mood, when suddenly your bullet vibe turns on, causing you to moan loudly and bend over until your torso was resting on the bed. You feel a spectral hand trail appreciatively down your nack, fingers catching on the edges of your lingerie until the hand smooths slowly down your ass, ending the motion with a firm grab.

"I never thought this house would be bought with me still in it," a husky and excited voice said, "but if this is what i can look forward to at night, i dont think i really mind."

"Who are you!?! Wh-" abruptly your ring gag was roughly placed in your mouth. You could feel spectral hands forcing it in place as the excited voice said

"Shhhhh, you're just gonna be our warm fleshlight from now on thats it baby. You even did such a good job prepping yourself for us like a good slut. Now just let us take it from here"

You were still confused and a little scared, but they seemed to add to your arousal not detracting from it. You let out a whimper and begin looking for the other people in the "we" equasion. Nothing showed.

But right when you were going to make a confused noise you felt a spectral cock

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k words

warnings: explicit language, nothing else really?

summary: your life goes back to normal— how things were before you knew steve— and it’s fine (or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN | ❝𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆❞

Spring Semester 2017

“This is how villain origin stories are born,” Robin said with a loud sigh as she closed her laptop for the time being. “Apartment hunting. Why does this suck so much?”

“Because everything’s severely out of our price range,” You responded, looking up from your own laptop. “Also, there are barely any three-bedroom options.”

“And the ones that are available and in our budget are very shitty,” Vickie added and you nodded in agreement.

The three of you were sitting on the carpeted floor in your dorm room. Living together for the next school year had been jokingly and playfully talked about in the very early stages of your friendship with Robin, but then as the months passed, it settled into an idea that actually became serious; mainly because of how much sense it made. And then Robin introduced you to Vickie and another friendship, and roommate, was born. 

Eddie was also set as a fourth roommate for a bit, but then he told you that he and Chrissy decided to live together for junior year, so it became settled that it would only be you, Robin, and Vickie. Which sounded great, and you were already excited about it since you hated living alone, but the apartment-hunting part quickly proved to be a lot more of a nuisance than any of you had expected.

“Fuck it, let’s just do a four-bedroom, then,” Robin said, shrugging. “There are a bunch more options for those, anyway. Like, the one I showed you guys yesterday. That place was perfect.”

“Did I miss the moment when our fourth roommate magically appeared?” Vickie asked, a playful smile on her face. 

“We can easily find someone else in one of those, like, Facebook group things.”

“That’s honestly not a bad idea,” You responded, already going to pull up Facebook on your laptop. 

Robin smiled. “Thank you. I always have great ideas.”

Vickie gave her a look. “Do I need to mention the ‘donating blood to get concert ticket money’ idea you had a week ago?” 

“No, that’s okay. We don’t need to discuss that low point.” 

You were the one who showed them Talia’s posting on one of the “searching for roommates” groups. She seemed nice and interesting and both Robin and Vickie thought so too. The three of you put together a quick message— briefly introducing yourselves and that you were looking for a fourth roommate— and sent it.

“Okay, fourth roommate, check,” Robin said once you pressed send. “Now, we have to get the place that I showed you guys yesterday.”

You laughed a little. “Let’s wait until she actually says something, Rob.”  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Initially, it felt equivalent to a family meeting. Well, more so what you imagined a family meeting would be like because the four of you never actually had to have one before. 

But then, it actually felt like you were giving some sort of speech or presentation because of the setup. Robin, Vickie, and Talia were on the couch and you were standing in front of the TV and explaining everything to them. 

You kept in most of the details— you and Steve agreeing to fake date, your feelings for Eddie being the reason behind it all, and how it was only meant to go until Spring Break. 

Aside from the fact that they all seemed shocked to learn that you had feelings for Eddie, their collective thought was that the entire relationship between you and Steve had seemed so real.

“We were just really good at faking,” Was your response to Vickie specifically saying how cute you two had looked together; especially during the one reality TV night where Steve came over and picked the show.

You remembered that night pretty well, but you didn’t remember any specific moments where you had felt as if you and he had to “play up” the relationship or lay the PDA on thick since Eddie wasn’t around that night, so you weren’t sure how that moment was considered a definingly cute one for the two of you. 

“Were you good at faking or was it not really fake?” Robin asked, giving you a certain look. 

“Definitely fake,” You didn’t hesitate to answer because you deliberately didn’t want to think about her question too deeply. “We’re not even really friends, and he just went on a date last night. Hence the Eddie punch.”

Eddie was still sleeping in your bed. When you got back from Steve’s place, you weren’t in the mood to wake him up or tell him to shift over and make room for you, so you spent the night on the couch. 

“Damn, it kinda sucks that we’re never gonna see him again. He was the only one that liked when I made the pumpkin cheesecake cookies,” Talia said.

Vickie laughed a bit. “The only reason we don’t like it is because that's clearly a Fall cookie, Tal, and it's Spring right now.” She then looked as if she thought of something. “Hey, but at least you won’t have to get stuck on a team with Eddie for game night anymore. We’re back to individual stuff or you being the referee.”

Talia smiled. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Wait, that just made me remember something,” Robin started. “Guys, I need you to please hear me out on this one,” She paused for what seemed like dramatic effect. “I think it's time to bring back Monopoly.”

There was a collective groan that immediately filled the air upon hearing her suggestion. Monopoly was a near friendship-ending game for you all, and it was only meant to be played on the rarest of occasions; which actually meant never. 

You sat down on the small loveseat then, glad that the subject had been shifted and that your speech, mixed with a Q&A, was over. “Robin, why do you wanna ruin all of our friendships?”

She quickly shook her head. “Come on, it’s been months. We’re all much more mature and reasonable adults, and I doubt we’ll have any arguments like last time.” 

Before any of you could respond with any sort of rebuttal, your bedroom door opened and out walked a tired looking Eddie. 

“Somehow, I heard the mention of Monopoly and I’m here to immediately veto that suggestion.” 

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “Go back to sleep, Munson.”

The game night conversation continued, and from there, things were normal. And you didn’t mind the normalcy that your life settled back into over the next few days and then weeks— even though, at one point, the thought of it bothered you and you had missed a lot of the things that came along with fake dating Steve. Now you knew there was no point in missing any of it; in fact, it felt kind of dumb to. 

Your classes got more and more intense during the entire month of April, so there wasn’t that much time to think about Steve or wonder what he was up to. However, the moments you did think of him surprisingly hit hard. 

When you all ended up playing Monopoly at game night, after Robin’s many begs and pleads, you thought about Steve and how different things would’ve been if he was there. You imagined him as a pretty competitive Monopoly player, and felt almost certain that he would’ve either had the biggest rivalry with Robin or formed some sort of alliance with her; she was the one that actually ended up winning after an intense and exhausting seven hours of playing that night. You wished that he could’ve been there. 

And then there were the reminders of him that were left around— his t-shirt that you’d never gotten around to giving back to him, his sunglasses that you didn’t realize you’d stolen until you were finally finishing unpacking your stuff from the Mexico trip, and the bear that he got you for Valentine’s Day that you refused to ever get rid of, but you eventually stuffed Hartford away in your closet instead of leaving him on your desk to make things feel easier. 

Anytime one of those moments happened where you randomly thought about him, you immediately reminded yourself of the rule and simply buried yourself further in whatever school assignment you needed to focus on, or made abrupt plans with Eddie, Robin, Vickie, or Talia. 

It was late in the month when Talia wanted to set you up with a guy from one of her classes, who she claimed would be “perfect for you.” Initially, you were hesitant— more so leaning toward no than yes— but he had the Talia stamp of approval, so you let it happen. She gave him your number and there were a handful of text messages shared between you two that led to a museum date a week later. 

It wasn’t terrible. But, your heart wasn’t in it at all, and neither was your head most of the time. And by the end of it, more specifically as you were in the elevator headed back up to your apartment, you realized that you probably wouldn’t see him again. 

When you walked into the apartment, you spotted Talia in the kitchen and the entire apartment smelled amazing; which, of course, didn’t surprise you at all.

“Hey, what are you making?” You asked as you pulled off your jacket and hung it on one of the empty hooks next to the door. 

“I got bored, so I decided to do a quick roasted chicken. It’s in the oven now,” She said, shrugging as if that was entirely normal. It would never not amuse you how her boredom would always spur on elaborate meals. “So, how was the date?”

“It was fine. Good, actually,” You answered after the briefest moment of hesitation. “He was pretty cool and we had a lot in common and stuff. But, I don’t know… It just didn’t feel right, I guess. My head was in a different place a lot of the time. Thinking about other stuff.”

“About Steve?”

Hearing her say that, surprised you. “What? No. I haven’t talked to him in like a month.” 

She gave you a quick shrug. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t think about him.” 

“I guess that’s true, but I haven’t really thought about him,” You said. It was a small lie that you were okay with telling because you didn’t want to admit or even ponder what it meant that you did think about and were so easily reminded of him sometimes. 

“I’m kind of surprised that you two aren’t friends or something,” She told you as she went to grab something from the fridge. “I don’t think I could do a whole fake dating thing with someone and not, at least, be friends with them after it.”

You leaned back against the counter. “We came up with a bunch of rules when we started it, and that was one of them.”

“To not be friends after?”

“Not exactly that, but pretty much, yeah. The rule was to go our separate ways once the fake dating was done,” You shrugged. “Becoming friends was the last thing on both of our minds when we came up with that since we were basically strangers at the beginning of this. And when we were ending things, we both knew that it would be impossible to be friends after because of all of the lies that started this.” 

She looked at you then. “But we all know the truth now, though. So you two could be friends and none of us would question it.” 

Talia’s words made complete sense and they were something that you should’ve realized and thought about a lot earlier than this moment. You were quiet for what felt like forever because you didn’t know what to say in response. Your immediate reaction was to still say no, you couldn’t be friends with him, but if she followed up and asked why, you knew that you wouldn’t have an answer. 

When the oven started beeping, it felt like a very “saved by the bell” kind of moment. Talia pulled out the chicken from the oven and let the conversation shift from there. “You got back from your date just in time, by the way. You wanna try this?” 

“Of course, I’ll never turn down anything you make.”

You went to your room first to change out of your date outfit and put on some pajamas instead and then you joined Talia back in the kitchen. The chicken was quite literally perfect, which didn’t surprise you, and you retreated to your room for the night after you finished eating, while Talia put on a documentary that she had to watch for one of her psychology classes. 

As much as you tried to focus on anything else as you lay in your bed, you inadvertently spent the rest of the night thinking about Steve— it was too hard not to. 

You thought about every moment that you had been reminded of him over the past month— how it hadn’t felt like much at first, but when you thought about it all at once, it was a lot. You also thought about what Talia said and why you and he weren’t friends even though it was pretty obvious that you should be— what else could explain why you both had prolonged and dragged out the conversation in his car the night you two “broke up”? Neither of you had wanted to let the inevitable happen. 

All of this was about more than just following the rule to you. Of course, it was about more than just that. 

Deep down you knew exactly why you couldn’t listen to what Talia said— why you couldn’t text him, go to his place, or do anything else to lean into that short-lived friendship you two had that you actually had a feeling was still there— but right then you refused to admit it. 

Instead, you grabbed your phone and put on a random podcast just so you could use the noise to drown out your thoughts and force yourself to fall asleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until a few days before finals that you thought about Steve again. It was kind of hard not to because you ran right into him— or more so tripped over him. 

The campus library during the week before finals week was probably one of the worst places to be, but you were in a last-second search for a book that you needed to do an essay on and you refused to buy it online because, for some reason, it was way too expensive.

Your eyes were trained solely on the spines of books as you searched for the one in particular when you tripped over something in the middle of the aisle. It wasn’t a full-on fall, just a very awkward stumble, but it somehow felt just as embarrassing. 

You let out an abrupt yelp in the middle of your stumble and heard a voice before you even got to see what caused you to trip. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You recognized Steve’s voice immediately and it sent a surprised jolt through you as you turned to look at him. He was leaned back against the long bookshelf with his legs stretched out and there was a textbook opened in his lap. He must’ve just been sleeping because you saw him rub his eyes and let out a quick yawn.

He looked up at you as he crossed his legs under him instead of having them stretched out in the aisle. He seemed as if he was surprised to see you too, but from the look on his face, you could tell that he saw it as a good surprise; you weren’t sure if you could say the same just yet. “Shit, now I feel worse knowing that I just did that to you.”

That got the smallest smile out of you. “Yes, you should feel a thousand times worse for almost ending my life.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sleeping here?” You asked. Both of you were keeping your voices low because you were on one of the quieter floors of the library. 

He shook his head. “I’m not sleeping. I was taking a break from studying for a test and just resting my eyes for a second.” 

“So sleeping?”

“A very brief nap,” He corrected.

“Ah, okay, got it,” You nodded, words coming out completely sarcastic. “Sorry for interrupting your very brief nap then.”

“Sorry for almost killing you.”

“Thank you.”

You knew that you should’ve let the brief conversation end there. You should’ve looked away from him then and continued searching for the book you needed to find. But, you didn’t. 

Instead, after the briefest moment of lingering silence between you two, you sat down across from Steve. The book and the essay that you needed to work on became the farthest things from your mind for the time being.

You didn’t have the strongest grasp on what you were doing right then and why you were doing any of it, but you decided not to question it. Instead, you simply did what felt good in the moment. 

You leaned back against the bookshelf opposite Steve and crossed your legs as well. “Hi.” 

He gave you a questioning look at first— maybe he was also expecting the conversation to end in that previous spot; like it would’ve with any other two people who weren’t really friends that had just randomly bumped into each other. 

But then, he was smiling, a genuine Steve Harrington smile that felt really nice to see. “Hey.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

a/n: ….. i'm sorry for the cliffhanger !!!!

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[the-jade-palace]

Fin Fin on QEMU (Current Version - v2.2)

Fin Fin on QEMU is a project designed to create an easy to use way for anyone to play Fin Fin without the need for any complicated setup on modern operating systems. It is fully compatible with Windows 10 and 11, but will also work on any version after XP.

The version of the game used is a custom made translation that includes all 6 worlds in English. It has working microphone input, sound recording, and all associated features such as screenshots and the encyclopedia work as well.

Rather than using virtualization, this works through emulating an entire Windows 98 machine. To play it there's no need to install any hypervisors or set up a virtual machine, as everything is already set up, and ready to go.

The download link can be found here! (Hosted on MEGA)

Installation

The whole thing is portable, meaning nothing is actually "installed" and all the data is wherever you place the folder. This also means that if moved to another PC, all user data will still be present.

To run, all you need to do is extract the folder in the .zip to a location of your choosing, and then run one of the launchers.

Included are two launcher versions for the different QEMU display options, one that uses GTK and one that uses SDL. The only difference between the .bat script and the .exe versions is that a command window will be shown when using the .bat script.

Both have pros and cons, so I've included both to let the user decide which one they want to use.

SDL has broken window scaling and no mouse integration, but has a correctly stretched fullscreen. GTK has a stretched fullscreen mode, but has working mouse integration and window scaling. Basically if you want the game in fullscreen use SDL, otherwise use GTK. For a bit more info about these, checkout the 'Files' section under the 'Keep Reading'

Important Info

Before launching the main game, be sure to create a profile using 'New Contact', as the game will not run until doing so. When exiting the game use the shutdown option in Windows 98. Exiting through closing the window forcefully can possibly cause data loss/corruption. When using SDL, mouse and keyboard input will be captured. To release this, press 'Ctrl + Alt + G'. When using GTK, the menubar can be hidden or shown by pressing 'Ctrl + Alt + M'. To make the window fullscreen, press 'Ctrl + Alt + F'.

Sounds

Included are two "sound effect packs" for the in game sounds that play based on the number keys from 1-5.

By default, the game will use the sound effects from the 5 Worlds version, but you can swap out to the 6 worlds one by renaming the "sound (alternate)" folder in the D: drive to just "sound", and renaming the original sound folder to something else.

I hope you all have fun with your new best friend Fin Fin!

Fin Fin is a wonderful little enigma from the past, and my attempt to make it easily accessible even in the present is something I hope you will all enjoy.

If you encounter any issues in Fin Fin on QEMU, please contact me about it.

To view the changelog, credits, and some more info about this project check below the 'Keep reading'.

Changelog

Some information is cut for brevity, the full version can be found inside of Fin Fin on QEMU and the MEGA folder.

v2.2

Added several new Fin Fin screensavers the user may choose from Updated method for calculating Transfer folder size Updated emulated machine to use 128mb of RAM and a Pentium Updated main teoboot.exe executable to fix several issues Updated shortcuts

v2.1

Removed WHPX launching options Removed FinFinWHPX.bat and FinFinWHPX.exe Removed startup crash fix as it was only needed for WHPX Modified folder settings in Windows 98 to open folders in the same window Rearranged Fin Fin on QEMU folder layout for cleaner appearance Added 'OK' button back to Microphone Setup that was mistakenly removed Updated shortcuts for Microphone Setup and Sound Recorder Fixed problem with 'Encyclopedia' launching script that caused screenshots to not show up in the photobook Added 'Transfer' Folder which allows for transferring files between the host and emulated machine Added options for launching with either GTK or SDL display Altered updater to improve ease of use and used NirCmd to improve process as a whole (Updater.bat & updater.iso)

v2.0 (Major Update - 6 Worlds Edition)

Modified original Taiwanese 6 Worlds version to add English Translation Added 'Microphone Sensitivity' shortcut to the desktop and start menu Added in 5 Worlds version Encyclopedia (finfinEncyc.exe & encyc30.GIZ) Added sound effects from 5 Worlds version (D:\sound) Added Mouse Integration Added Nircmd to replace launch batch scripts (C:\WINDOWS\nircmd.exe) Added Windowed Mode shortcut to start menu Altered launching scripts (FinFin.bat, FinFin.exe, FinFinWHPX.bat, FinFinWHPX.exe, FinFin Update.bat) Removed large amount of unecessary setup files from finfin.qcw Removed 'Task Scheduler' from taskbar Added Credits and Changelog shortcut to start menu Added dll to fix issue with running on Windows 7

v1.3

Added animated Fin Fin cursor

v1.2

Added guided updater (FinFin Update.bat & updater.IMA) Adjusted wallpaper Renamed startup shortcut ("_setup.bat" to "Crash Fix" at C:\WINDOWS\Start Menu\Programs\Startup) Adjusted Volume Control Settings

v1.1

Added new wallpaper (C:\background.jpg) Added new startup sound (C:\boot.wav)

v1.0 (First Public Release)

Changed from qemu-3dfx to base Removed unnecessary files in Windows Added missing shortcuts on Desktop

v0.5 (Playtester version)

Moved all Fin Fin data to finfin.qcw Created batch scripts for Disc.id Added shortcuts to launch programs Removed unnecessary programs from Windows Removed unnecessary files in Windows

Credits

Resources

The finfin Homepage (finfin.de) - By EMGE The finfin Archive (finfin-archiv.de) - By Xvemon, Nadine S., and EMGE Fin Fin 6 Worlds "Beta" (finfin-archive.de) - By Harald G.

Playtesters

mchi22 that-one-scratch-on-your-arm

Software

QEMU 7.1.0. (qemu.org) - By QEMU team: Peter Maydell, et al. NirCmd (nirsoft.net) - By Nir Sofer Resource Hacker (angusj.com) - By Angus Johnson

Updating Versions

Included is a guided updater that will help you transfer your save, screenshots, and sound recordings to the latest version.

Place the new version in a temporary location without replacing the original. Then, just run "Updater.bat" and follow the instructions.

System Time

Time in the emulated machine is synced to the host PC.

If you would like to time travel in Fin Fin, you can change the time in the emulated PC but it will go back to normal after a restart. Note that if you do this you will not be able to go back to the original time, you can only go forwards using this method If you would like to permanently change the time, you can use the built in date-changer present in the 'New Contact' program, but this will cause the loss of the current profile.

QEMU

Though it should be quite obvious by now, this project works through the use of QEMU, an open source emulator. Specifically, its emulating a full Windows 98 SE machine, and then the game is run on that.

The emulated machine has 128mb of RAM, an AC97 Soundcard, and a Pentium CPU.

Files

The only files this project really has aside from QEMU are FinFin GTK.bat/.exe and FinFin SDL.bat/.exe

The reason I list the .exe and .bat files together is that they do exactly the same thing. The executables aren't really 'true executables', but are instead just batch scripts that have been converted into .exe files. When they run, they essentially create a temporary batch script that deletes itself. The only real benefit of this is that its a bit more straightforward for launching and creating shortcuts, and that there is no distracting command window while playing.

Within the 'Data' folder is where the bulk of the project is. Inside are two virtual hard drives, w98.qcw being the main Windows 98 drive, and finfin.qcw being where all the Fin Fin game data is.

[poppy-metal]

omfg. art abusing the power he holds over his stalker is SOO. your insistence and pestering and creepiness give the impression of dominance, gives the impression of control. but art could do literally anything to you. could make you do anything. anything in the whole world. nothing was too depraved. and he knew that. you weren’t normal. you were troubled, deeply, deeply. but what did he want with normal anyway? maybe he wasn’t a normal guy either. maybe, with patrick ran off with tashi, he could have someone that was just his. he knew you would never even look at another man. you told him so yourself. and it made him infeasibly hard, knowing a girl with such a hot little body was so insane about him. you probably had no issue with men, but you just wanted him. so, being abnormal, he writes something back. tucks it in your favourite pocket in his gym bag, knowing you’ll find it.

artdonaldson@hotmail.com

write my name on your tits and show me in a video

okay now we're back to being depraved <3

its a risk. art almost feels guilty for being so...... short and demanding about it. about talking to someone that way. but then he remembers you're literally breaking the law and harassing him and you've sent him pictures of your fingers in your pussy - his guilt fades then. he's more on edge with anticipation. it takes you awhile to get back to him and he wonders if its a line you wont cross. if its some unknown boundary you have. he naws on his pen cap while he pours over an essay, an essay he should be writing, but hes not, he's thinking of you - as he often is these days. his knee is bouncing under his desk.

really, the reason you take awhile is because you're trying to find the perfect lighting. you dont want to have your hair in the frame, lest he be able to recognize it later on - you make sure you dont have any identifiable marks near your chest - nothing but a few beauty marks, nothing too distinct - then you spend half a day just debating on the kind of marker to use - what color. do you go the permanent route? but what if someone saw when you were changing and asked about it? using an easily washable one feels wrong though - his name on your skin going down the drain the very same day you'd marked it down..... it makes you frown. permanent it is, then. you'd just skip going to the gym this week. you choose blue for the color. like his eyes.

you have a whole setup in your dorm - a camera and a stand for it. you spend alot of time working on the angle - should it be super zoomed in? a little farther back? its different when its just a picture but a video.... you have to make it enticing. you cant just sit still.

you end up staring zoomed in - his name is written between the valley of your tits - the video shows you cupping your hands hesitantly under them, unsure. you imagine art watching you - you remember reading his note - losing your breath over the commanding tone behind it - he wants to see my fucking tits -

you get into it then - squeezing the flesh in your hands and you mute your sigh but it slips out anyway. the words on your chest - his name - morphs and expands as you jiggle your tits, squish them together to show the hard peaks of your nipples.

you drop your hands so he can see the bounce of your chest when gravity is involved. rub your thumbs over your hard buds and whine when you pinch of them - you imagine arts hands. his fingers pinching and twisting them - playing with you like a doll -

you can't stop playing with them - you get turned on, sticky between your legs - you hope he streaks his stomach in cum and thinks about covering your nipples with it.

when art gets the video sent over through email from an anonymous file - he tries briefly to see if he can track the ip, but you'd used some encrypted file that gets him nowhere. he sighs. he'd find you eventually. what he'd do when he did..... he didn't know. turn you in? end this? ask you out? kiss you? fuck you?

he opens the video and sits back. lets out an audible "fuck." when he sees your tits. his lips part and he doesn't even touch his dick for the first half, mesmerized by the sight of your tits. the hard little nipples. and his name..... art donaldson. his breath hitches.

he slips his hand into his sweats and fists his dick. it isn't enough. he has to lean over and fish through his drawer until he finds the fleshlight he'd bought a week ago - he'd never bought one before - his hand had always been enough - his pillow too when he was desperate. but it wasn't enough lately. especially with the pictures of your pussy.... he needed to feel pressure around his dick so badly. it burned under his skin until he was forced to cave and order a standard toy online.

it makes him flush with shame to place the plastic lips over the tip of his cock - but that shame pretty much floods out of him as soon as he puts his eyes back on his computer screen - watches your tits bounce - and sinks the toy down. his eyes roll back and his head falls back too, curls tumbling.

he works the silicone up and down his length while he watches you play with your tits - for him - he can hear the small little moans you let you and it makes his balls ache. fuck. hes so turned on. grips the toy and starts really fucking it up and down on his cock - shameless in chasing his pleasure now.

he wishes you were here. he wishes he was rubbing his cock all over your chest and into your hard nipples. he'd make you press them together for him - he'd make you rub them on his legs - on his chest - he'd demand them in his mouth - oh fuck he wants those nipples in his mouth. wants to suck and suck and suck and hear those moans in full volume.

when he cums - he paints the inside of his toy with it. twitching with the aftershocks.

already, hes thinking of what he can have next. of how much you're willing to give.

he kind of scares himself when he realizes how much he's willing to take.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hey!

This isn't a request but I want to talk about a concept I realized hasn't been talked about in the platonic yandere batfam writings.

✨Weaponized incompetence✨

In fics, batsis is either a secret vigilante or captive with no self-defense skills, right? I have an idea. Batsis who is CLEARLY very skilled (maybe said she had been trained by assassins because Bruce's children are familiar with that, or Bruce had a relationship with a woman really talented in combat resulting in reader, who knows). Bruce knows she's skilled. Her siblings know she's skilled. Alfred knows she's skilled.

But guess what? She refuses to use her skills to fight evil like her siblings. She don't care, Batman has tons of kids anyways. Besides, a lot of her siblings died and got revived. No way she's putting herself through that. No. Nuh uh.

Have a nice day!

Hiii! Thank you so much for the ask boo. I love your support, hope you are having a wonderfull dayyy. Love ya, hope i didn't rant too long lol. <3333

Weaponized incompetence as a darling is always so fun. I love for the reader to make their captor's life a living hell. But, this request isn't really weaponized incompetence. You simply just don't want to crime fight because you're scared and there's no manipulation going on there. Maybe a bit better example would be if you were completely skilled, they didn't know you were, a situation happens where you could protect your family but you choose not to in an act of pettiness.

I think it's such a common trope in the yandere batfam community because it's an easy setup that makes sense. The first couple of kids didn't have much or any training at all either. Plus if you were a trained assassin or like you said the mother is trained, why would you ever go with Bruce when you could do more/ be on your own. You could easily defend yourself against the family, stop manipulation easier, ect. It's just more loop holes that people don't really feel like patching lol.

Also i personally don't think anyone in the family would be really upset? But i guess that depends on your headcanons of the family.

Hypothetically, at the families worse, A few kids would be jealous/peeved and Bruce might be a little disappointed. Damian would be the main one pressing you about it. Why waste your skill when there's so much to do. How can you watch your poor father and siblings get beaten everyday without feeling the need to step in. You coward.

Bruce might be disappointed if that's the reason he took you in. Maybe he needed assistance but if all the others are there and fully capable then why make someone fight who doesn't want to? Plus i don't think Bruce would ever only take you in for that reason.

The other kids plus Bruce have experienced just as much death and trauma as you...i don't think it'd be a problem. They love their batsis so much and if you felt you weren't ready, that's okay. They get it.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter fourty. sunrise wc. 665

You are very much NOT a morning person, so it’s practically a miracle that you are in fact up at 6:30 am, before the sun is even out. The things you do for these boys. The coffee more than makes up for it and the fact that you’re pretty sure all those boys know your order makes your heart swell.

You had never thought that driving could be hot but to be honest you were starting to change your mind as you had watched your soulmates drive. You had no idea what it was but they had all looked rather attractive while driving. Again, this was something you were going to pack away and pretend you never realized this. The playlist Chan has playing is rather soothing as you find yourself slowly bobbing your head to the music.

It only takes around twenty minutes to reach your location, a small little vantage point with a great view. It’s still dark outside, but slowly getting lighter as the sun comes out.

“Can you give me one minute? Just chill in the car,” Chan gives you that breath taking smile and the only thing you can do is nod your head. You can hear him opening up the trunk, rustling noises that make you curious but you stay put, keeping your head forward not to ruin the surprise. That’s not to say it doesn’t make you antsy, squirming slightly in your seat with anticipation.

Chan seems to notice this and puts your out of your misery, coming back to open the door and offering his hand to you. “Mi’lady” You snort but take his hand, letting him help you out of the car. He leads you to the back of the trunk, now decorated with little fairy lights surrounding a blanket, some pillows and a plate of fruit and pastries. Your mouth opens wide at this cozy little setup. Chan has parked the car backwards so they could sit comfortably in the trunk, while the sun slowly rises.

The lack of words coming out of your mouth seems to make Chan nervous. “Um, do you? Like it?” You can hear the anxiety in his voice but you just turn around and throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his wide shoulders.

“I love it! It’s so sweet,” You reassure him.

Slowly the sun starts to rise, painting the sky in an orange glaze, the two of you sat in the trunk curled up. You don’t know why but your emotions feel a bit haywire and you can’t help the small tear that falls down your cheek. Even though you’re pressed against Chan’s chest and he can’t really see your face, it’s like he can sense something wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing! I just- fuck, this is so beautiful? And this whole set up is so romantic and sweet. I’ve never…really experienced anything like this and. I don’t know I feel so? Amazed that you guys would do stuff like this for someone like me. Honestly? These last few weeks I feel more alive than I’ve ever been. I really can’t remember the last time I had felt this happy. This free,”

Chan’s grip around you gets tighter, moving his head so it rests on your shoulder. “I’m so happy you have no idea. While the guys and I have been happy, all of us have been waiting for you for so long and you complete us so well. We all feel it, our little missing puzzle piece,”

You turn around in his small embrace and kiss him square on the mouth. Chan seems a little surprised but eases into the kiss. You keep it short though, a little embarrassed at how your practically threw yourself at him.

He only grins at seeing the flush across your face, coming to cup your face and pressing about a thousand more kisses to your lips.

You definitely knew you were going to easily get addicted to their kisses.

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[hi-sierra]

Tortoise Storytime!

For most of his life, the scale burger lived in an enclosure that was about 7.5 square feet (~0.7 square meters). This is usually way too small- but he lived in a facility that always had someone on staff, letting him roam the floors while they worked on something nearby.

During covid, I worked at this reptile facility to replace workers who were higher risk and staying home. And I feel deeply in love with this lil bean of a tortoise. He was incredibly vibrant and friendly, was so habituated to humans that he didn't even have an instinct to retract into his shell, and was just flat out adorable.

A year after moving away for my PhD, my old boss reached out to me and asked if I could provide a good home to any of the animals. I instantly asked for this guy.

Unfortunately, I absolutely felt like I made a mistake for a while. I quickly realized that, as busy grad student that worked during the day, I couldn't be letting him roam outside of his small enclosure all the time. For the past year, I've been doing the best I can, experimenting with small enclosures, outdoor time, and floor time to best address his needs. But it always felt temporary and subpar.

As a Russian Tortoise, he has a partial hibernation cycle. For some weird reason, his is inverted with the actual seasons. So when he settled down in the late spring and started pseudohibernation, I could breathe easy for a bit. I left him with some caretakers over the summer, who didn't have much trouble with a sleeping tortoise, and went around having my adventures.

But I knew I wanted something nice waiting for him when he started being active again.

Introducing: the tortoise palace

I had several things in mind for a new enclosure. I wanted it to maximize space in my apartment, maximize my space in my apartment, and have somewhat easy teardown in case I have to move. So, I lifted my bed to be about 4 feet off the ground, and made the enclosure under it. The entire setup is in latched-together pieces that can easily be taken apart and set up again.

I've added climbing enrichment in the form of garden bricks, rocks, and multiple forms of substrate (orchid bark as the main, reptibark, coco coir, and rabbit pellets in deeper dig boxes) but I'll be adding more as time goes on. He's been loving climbing around and I can't wait to see what he'll do with other stuff.

It's an ongoing project, and there's a lot of "temporary solutions that are kinda-permanent" in here, but I'll be fixing those over time. Notably, the walls are pretty low- he can't get out, but I have to be cognizant of putting things he can climb on near the edges. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears! But for now, here's the beast, his unfathomable power just barely contained.

Tiny bit of emotion under the cut.

I know this is dumb. But finishing this genuinely made me cry a little.

I've felt so bad about keeping this guy in what I know is a subpar environment for so long, and doing the best I could to keep him happy and healthy within it. But it was always barely keeping my head above the water.

And now, I finally feel like I have a good, permanent solution to it. This design, by definition, will fit in the space of a full sized bed in any place I live in the future. I feel like I finally provided something good for him. I know he's just a tortoise, but I really do love him, and I love seeing him happy and safe.

Idk. It's all rambles. But thanks for loving and appreciating the wonderful critter he is <3