#this is also so much longer than it should be

[lunebulous]

Playing with your body in non-sexual ways

A.N: This is my first time writing fanfiction. Any feedback is very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! I have no idea what tags to put here so, just trust me bro. cw: thigh worshipping (zayne), plus-size reader (rafayel).

Xavier

There wouldn’t be a lot of occasions where his caresses would be in a non sexual way - that's why he's known to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. But don't get me wrong, being sexual does not equal condescending or rough. Not for him. - well, sometimes. - It's just that if he focuses too long on your face when you’re sleeping soundly, or when you're admiring the lantern lights at another festival, he gets this sensation that he should own you once more, just to be sure you're his. 

So when he kisses, it's only to leave you wanting more of him.  So when he caresses your body, it's only to let himself know he's the one making your skin get goosebumps.  So when he embraces all of you in a tight hug, it’s only to feel like you’re finally real this time.  And when all of these inevitably turn into that feeling of ownership again, he frowns internally. Initially, he wishes that he was different and that he wouldn’t feel like this everytime he stops to think about you; But it's just so much love that it overflows from his heart, dripping right into the lowest part of his torso. When he realizes, he’s slowly kissing you against the wall again. He can’t help it, he's naturally drawn to you like a magnet. And that feeling gives place to a necessity, a craving that hurts so deliciously he gives up on being different. So when you gasp for air and tug at his hair to breathe a little, he just can’t understand why. Or how can you do this to him. He wants more. And more. And more. He needs it so bad he can’t help but pin your hands to the wall so he can kiss you longer, raveling in the way you squirm under him. After all, just because he can't help it, doesn't mean he's not enjoying every second of the fruits of his own possessiveness.

So he caresses you all the time - the problem is that it often turns into a primal need to own and to explore each cute face - each little sound - you make for him. He feels like a victim to his own desires. Poooor Xavier… (irony included).

Rafayel

Rafayel is completely enamoured by your hands, making sure to always kiss them whenever he gets the chance. When he doesn’t, he’s more than expected to caress them while you wait for food in a nice restaurant, or when you’re walking on the shore with him. He is the king of intertwining your hands all the time - never letting go even if for brief moments. He says his bodyguard should be aware of where he is at all times, and when you replied that having one of your hands busy would actually get in the way if danger arrives, he puffed his chest, saying something along the lines of “i’m lucky I have the best bodyguard that can fight 10 men with only one hand then!”. You sighed, giggling because of him. “You’re not actually expecting me to fight with 10 men without letting go of your hand, right?” “Well, I'm pretty sure that was on your job description when I hired you.”  “No it wasn’t.” “Now it is.”  --- He also kisses and grabs your stomach and love handles all the time, especially when lying down, like now. There were some times when it made you feel a little bit insecure, but he always buried his face on it with a big smile, hugging your waist. When you voiced your insecurity to him for the first time, he simply said: “Well, I never saw a painting of any muse that didn’t have enough body for me to drown in it. - he stares up at you intently, before looking at your stomach again. - In fact, it is the only scenario where drowning would be possible for me. - Now he’s getting a hold of your love handles. - And actually, i'd love it. Thank you, my muse!” Right before nuzzling his face on your belly again, giggling. You blush furiously, caressing his purple locks, but he’s too busy to see it.

Zayne

Zayne would always need a bit of a push to touch you like he wants to - and you know that. He’s slowly coming out of his shell and being more confident when it comes to being intimate with you, getting over his irrational fear of hurting you again. The ‘push’ he got today was seeing you come home after brunch with your friends, wearing a dark and muted red lipstick, blended on your lips so perfectly it reminded him of a vintage doll. He made a note to himself to compliment you later when you had your attention on him - because you were busy taking off your shoes, your coat and yapping about some BIG gossip you just found out. He listens attentively, putting two and two together with you as you happily stride towards him. 

You sit beside him on the couch and hug his arm, leaning on his shoulder. He places his hand between your thighs, trying not to pay too much attention to it - a task quite hard for him, as you were wearing light brown stockings that made your oh-so-loved thighs look even more bite-deserving; But he tries to shake the thought away. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re well-invested in the documentary he is watching, but the position is getting quite uncomfortable now, so you crawl between his legs and rest your back against his chest, both of you laying down on the chaise part of the couch. First he stares at you, finding adorable how you don’t hesitate before making yourself comfortable with him. He lays a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, making you snuggle against him even more, getting it just right like two puzzle pieces. And he swears to himself he’s a good man. He is not going to turn this into something more just because your ass grinded against him innocently, no, no. Breathe, you touch-starved man! 

But the same man now is fighting for his life to NOT look at your thighs, the stockings making them look so shiny for him, he couldn't help himself but imagine the shadows his fingers pressing onto your skin would look like. He imagined you in not-so-innocent lightings more than he’d ever admit, and as his thoughts stray away, he doesn’t notice how he’s been caressing your chest and collarbones for some time now, lightly using his fingertips to circle around your skin, as if memorizing each part of it. Then he's slowly directing his way to your neck, with four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, going up and down with featherly touches as his eyes are glued to your legs, completely blank, admiring each curve going from the arch of your feet to your calves, and then to your thighs, stopping at the start of your tight skirt. Now he’s gripping your neck - just lightly pressing on it, your airflow is completely free. (for now). You can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his mind, lying to yourself that feeling his firm hand around your neck is not making you want to rub your legs together, but you're already doing it a bit, discreetly, not knowing you’re being very thoroughly watched. As he’s breathing deeper to try to not get excited, you feel his hand slowly letting go of your neck and you whine inwardly at it. But then his hands hesitantly go higher, his slender fingers sliding across your chin to play with your lips as he remembered to compliment you. He opens his mouth to do it, but being so lost in thought he just stops. Staring at your legs with an empty gaze, completely out of it. God, they’d look so good around his cock. Fuck.  You look up, a bit surprised with his actions, slowly tilting your head to the side, looking at him. - the movement makes him get out of his trance, suddenly confused as to how his fingers got to your lips - but as if reading his mind, you part them, waiting. And then he gets it. The key to making himself touch you like he wants to is just to - not think. It makes sense, it's a part of him he never let himself explore. He then lets himself do what he wants, sliding his middle and index finger on your tongue, experimenting. As you close your lips around them, looking at him so puppy-eyed, he can't help but smirk as realizing he could get used to this very quickly. You start feeling him growing against your ass now.

He presses down on your tongue, smiling. “You look so beautiful wearing this color, love.”

So, Zayne doesn’t play with any part of your body - because as soon as he does it, he gets a problem under his trousers. And now that he knows how to let go of control, - you got one too.

Sylus

Sylus wouldn’t be the type of man to touch you without being full-on intentional with it. The same amount of hate he has towards ‘quickies’, he has for the idea of touching your most sensitive parts without being completely devoted to them. So when playing with you, it is usually filled with admiration and love, silently appreciating your presence by his side. That’s why you often find him mindlessly braiding your hair as you lay your head on his lap to watch a movie, or how he gently runs his fingernails - once claws - on your calf under the table when he’s discussing his next moves with the twins. Yeah, sometimes his hands wander a little bit higher, a little bit firmer, but always looking at you to watch your reaction; as if to just - test the waters, tease you to see your ears turn red.. or warm you up for what’s coming next.

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter four. doors and burgers

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pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 2.2k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, panic attack, boobies lol, Scarlett should be her own warning, daddy issues,

authors note ⇢ sorry that i messed up on my last post yall!! i confused scarlett with heather. she was supposed to be Heather but i was like….. heathers get too much crap thank you conan 😒 and i forgot to change it lol sorry!!! also i rewrote this like five times and i this was the one i was most satisfied with, so enjoy!!

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Scarlett leaves from what you can tell. People are talking about the kitchen debacle and there are mixed reviews. Some are still kissing Scarlett’s ass, others don’t like her any longer. But it doesn’t seem anyone’s on your side. You’re still invisible. You’ve since taken off your jacket that was drenched and Rafe has given you his. It’s big but it doesn’t cover you entirely, and that makes you feel so damn embarrassed.

Despite your mission being to get Jonah to see you, neither of you can find him anywhere. Kiara and Sarah had their eyes out for him as well but they’ve since lost the mission at hand. Now, you’re all sat in the living room where there are a few people dancing around Sarah who’s singing obnoxiously bad on the karaoke machine. No one has any idea where it came from but everyone is loving it.

You’re clapping along with Kiara, laughing when Sarah messes up another lyric and blames the song. For the first time in what seems like a long time, Rafe isn’t drinking. He isn’t doing much of anything but staying by your side. He’s sitting beside you, watching his sister with amusement. He refuses to clap though, only doing it when you reach over to lift his hands and make him clap.

It’s Kiara’s turn to sing when you get up off the couch and look for the bathroom in the huge figure 8 house. The home has photographs scattered, a happy family shown in them all. It might just be the beer in you that makes you want to cry. You’ve seen the kid around school before and he isn’t anything to you. Anything at all. But you’re wishing him the best. Yeah, you realize it’s the beer.

You stumble into a random room and let out a screech when a body gets up from a bed.

“What are you doing here?” Jonah’s voice sends a flutter through your belly. Your belly. Your stomach. You take a hold of Rafe’s jacket and tighten it around yourself, hiding your body from the guy you want badly.

“Oh… uhm…” you wipe the tears from your eyes that had bled out at the family pictures. “I’m looking for the bathroom.”

He’s immediately up on his feet at the sight of your tears. Your eyes widen when his hands take a hold of your round face and examines you carefully. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Your breath hitches at the feel of his warm hand. It’s soft. Far too soft for a man who puts his all into the gym and football. “Oh? I… uhm… haha, what? Yeah? I'm… I’m fine. Just…” you sniffle and gently move his hand from your face. You’re refusing to meet his eyes,shy about your sadness. “The pictures… they look so happy.”

The look on his face makes you want to run away. And then, he laughs. “You’re crying because Tommy and his family look happy?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, stuck. “It’s not a bad thing.” Are his words when he seems to realize how stunned you feel. “It’s… adorable.”

You fumble your words, “oh, I, uhm, yeah, okay, that’s… yeah.” To have the guy you’ve been into for years call you such a word is a rush. A scary one. But you like it. And whatever it is you did, you wish you could keep doing it until he saw you as you saw him. Perfect.

You’re still standing by the door of the random bedroom and it’d be easy to just run off. But you can’t. Making a fool of yourself in front of Jonah will only make your plan harder. And Rafe would kill you for letting his effort go to waste. “What are you doing in here?” It comes out more abrasive than you wished, internally scolding yourself.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, he takes his seat back on the bed and shrugs. “It’s noisy.”

You understand. You really, really do. And you want to say it aloud but your tongue is tied as you watch him throw his head back, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows gently. After a moment, you semi-gather yourself. “Did you leave cause of Sarah?” You joke lightly. “That’s what made me leave.”

This garners a soft laugh out of him and you want to jump up and squeal. But Rafe told you to act nonchalant. “Yeah, she’s certainly… singing.”

You take one step away from the door. Just one. You were going to sit beside him. You were going to talk to him. Really talk to him.

The door behind you swings open and hits your head. Hard. “What the fuck?” Jonah’s quick on his feet, rushing to you in a panic. You turn to look at the culprit and your frown turns into a glare. Rafe.

“What the fuck, Rafe?!” You hiss, sending a punch to his shoulder.

“Why were you standing so near the door?!”

“Why would you swing it open like a maniac?!”

“It’s not my fault you were standing there—“

“Maybe don’t open doors like that—“

“Oh, shut up, do you ever not complain—“

“Says you! You’re, like, the king of complaining—“

“King? King—“

“Should I leave?” Jonah’s soft voice speaks and you shove Rafe’s face as you look at him and smile.

“N-no, you shouldn’t have to. He was just leaving.”

“I was? I don’t— ow, fuck, okay, I’m leaving.”

The mood was ruined. Whatever mood Jonah was in was gone. And so was your confidence. It's awkward as you sit next to him on the bed. The palm of your hands are on your knees, anxiously rubbing at them. He’s laid back on the bed, arm crossed over his eyes, the only thing telling you he’s up is the soft twitch of his fingers.

“Does it hurt?” His voice cuts through the thick silence.

Panicked, you glance over at him with wide eyes. “Does… does what hurt?”

“Your head. He opened the door pretty hard.” He still doesn’t move from his position and you’re grateful he’s not looking at you. You do better when people can’t perceive you.

“Oh, my head… yeah, it’s fine, doesn’t hurt. I-it’s a little sore but I’ll make him pay for it.” You shrug, fixing Rafe’s jacket on your body.

“You two are close.” It’s supposed to be a question. It doesn’t sound like one.

You shake your head despite his eyes being covered up. “Not really. I… he’s nice but we’re not like friends.”

He sits back up and this makes you tense up, looking straight ahead at that damn door you hate now. “Just never seen him with anyone but his same three friends.”

“I’m friends with Sarah. We’re just… around each other more.” It’s a lie. But you don’t believe Rafe would want people to know just how much time you’re really spending together. The less people that know, the better.

“You and Scarlett are really done?” He questions, eyes on you. But you can’t look over at him. You’re stiff and awkward and unsure of how to act around him.

You nod softly, “y-yeah… she’s, uhm, not a very nice person.”

It’s quiet for another moment. “She’s been running her mouth about you. Calling you names. Really bad names. And all you can say is ‘she's not nice’?”

Hearing that she’s still talking about you is a punch to the guy and suddenly you don’t care about your crush. You don’t care that you two are sitting so close to each other. All you can think is how horrible she truly is. How blinded you were. And how stupid you feel for missing her. “Well… just because others are doing bad things, doesn’t mean I should. Be the bigger person and whatnot.” You let out a small and awkward laugh to try and shrug off what you’re really feeling.

“Wow.” Are his words as he gets up off the bed and walks to the dresser of the bedroom and picking up a magazine. “You’re really not like other girls.” An even bigger punch to the gut. Logically, you know he’s trying to be kind. He’s only saying this to make you feel better, your feelings on Scarlett written all over your face.

You don’t wear makeup, not like other girls do. You don’t dress up, not like other girls do. You don’t giggle over guys, not like other girls do. You don’t go out and have fun, not like other girls do. But you want to do it all. You want to be like other girls. You never felt worth it. Lipstick on a pig. You’re too big to fit trendy clothes. You don’t giggle over guys because they’d be disgusted that you’re into them. You don’t go out because you’d be the biggest out of the group of girls that are around you. You’d be an eyesore.

In a frantic move, you get up off the bed. “Right. Well, I, uh… I have to go.”

“Huh? What—“ but you don’t pay any attention to his words as you rush out of the random bedroom. There are kids littering the hallway. The steps are being used as seats, shoving people slightly as you go. The music is loud. Too loud. You can feel it bouncing in your eardrums and filling your already muddled thoughts. Theres nothing you can think about other than getting out of that damn house. And in your panicked stupor, you can’t find the damn. The house is too damn big.

There’s a couple making out in the bathroom when you rush inside and when they see the fear in your eyes, they rush out, leaving you to be.

The drive isn’t awkward. Not like you thought it would be. He didn’t question you. And despite his last text, he didn’t bring it up. And you’re grateful he didn’t.

“Where are we going?” You ask when you realize you’re headed downtown. “I want to go home, Rafe.”

He shrugs, hands on the wheel. “I’m hungry. We’re just stopping by The Wreck real quick.”

He doesn’t ask you to get down with him. He parks, heads inside, and he’s out fifteen minutes later. But he doesn’t start driving. In fact, he immediately takes a bite out of his burger, your food untouched on your lap.

“You’re not gonna eat?” He asks with his mouth full, but you don’t grimace like you should. You grab a napkin and hands it to him but he shakes his head refusing it.

“You’re dirty.”

“And you’re not eating.” He swallows his food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re lying.”

“So because I'm fat, I must be hungry?” It’s a joke but the look he gives you tells you he’s not amused in the slightest. “Tough crowd. Seriously, I'm not hungry.”

“Is this that thing where you don’t eat in front of people cause you’re with a guy? Sarah told me it’s some shit she does.”

“It’s that thing where I’m not hungry, actually.” But it smells divine. Usually, you’d happily eat this but after tonight, you’re not sure if you’ll ever eat greasy foods again.

He scoffs, putting his burger down and holding a fry up at you. “Try the fry.”

“You try the fry.”

“I already did. Seriously, my mom had this trick while we were growing up. Sarah always swore she wasn’t hungry and wouldn’t get anything to eat but she’d make her try something from the plate to realize how hungry she really was.”

“How old was she?”

“My mom? She was pushing forty.”

You glare at the proud look on his face at his joke. “Sarah, stupid.”

“I don’t know… seven?”

“You’re treating me like a seven year old?”

“Try. The. Fry.” He swipes it across your lips and this gets a laugh out of you, shoving him away.

“Okay, okay! I’ll eat a fry. But that one has lipstick all over it now.” You pick a fry from his and he squints his eyes at you.

“You have a perfectly good batch.”

You pop the fry into your mouth with a content smile. “Not as good as yours.” And he was right. The salt and buttery soft fry proved to be true— you are hungry.

With a sigh, you grab your burger and say— “okay… just… don’t look.”

This amuses him. “Don’t look at you eat your burger? Well, there goes my spank bank.”

“Ew, Rafe!” You laugh, nose scrunching at his crude words.

You take a bite of your burger. And it’s absolutely delicious. Just like you knew it would be. Instead of worrying over stuffed up cheeks or looking fat while eating, you share laughs, mouths full and not a single care.

taglist. @pinkyqily @chalahyung01 @lunalvrsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @jayjsbaby @yawnzshit @mytimeiswaiting @tsshifting @always-reading @chimchimjiminie16 @ayy1234567 @acidfeens @congratsloserr @murdockcastleslut @cl4uus @clairesblouse @ange111 @daddydraco @wtfdudesblog @honk4emoboyz @fionaapplelover2010 @raiemarine @totonella1 @lilmixed-girl @enjoymyloves @darlingisntit @c1gsaftewhat @lil-sparklqueen @bambisribbon @easybakeoven7 @vviolets444rroses @aesthetic-lyss @dr3wstarkey @sleepmaster69 @yose2123 @aligned-starz @vex-et-soleil (if your name is red, it’s not letting me tag you for some reason, sorry!)

[sucodelaranja86]

- i'm sorry ( part 2 ) : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader.

summary: you finally get things solved with your girlfriend. But now, your only option is to wait for the rest of these deadly games to end. Either by player's choice, or naturally.

A/N: I am so excited, i can't wait to write part 3, tho i am going to take a bit longer to write it. And spoilers: young mi lives!! :DD i can't bear to kill her cute aah

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ What you could swear that was gasps of sunlight penetrated your eyelids, manifesting an uncomfortable feeling agaisnt your body. The artificial lights of the massive dormitory were unfortunately turned on, and a feminine voice from the speakers annouced it was time to wake up, signaling the approaching next game. You had barely survived the second one, your team winning with only a few seconds left. Hyun-ju didn't want and didn't bother to invite you to her team (that surprisingly had many cheers during their turn playing.), leaving you with strangers that honestly had the same low capacity as you during the games.

You were not sure if she was worried for you the same way you were for her, but you could swear you saw a slightly relieved face when she saw you and other 4 people coming through the door back to the dorm. At least you hoped so.

But now that the worry was temporarily over, it left you with enough time to go back and wonder. What did you do wrong to upset her? She was in the game too, for her debts and for her surgeries. You were here with the sole purpose of helping her. Was she that selfish that she would leave you only for that?

You almost facepalmed yourself for even thinking that. She was mature, caring, and most of all, patient. You were just surprised to see her acting like this. After all, she always handled problems with a calm exterior. In a game that decided whether you would live or die based on your playing skills, everyone would lose a bit of their posture, right?

You had the theory that maybe she was worried for you! So worried that she couldn't help but get a bit hysterical, that's all! Maybe she is just desperate to get you out of danger and out of here.

But you shattered that theory yourself when you saw her voting for wanting to stay after the first game.

You were as confused as you could be. Seeing her talk so casually and friendly to most of her former team mates also did something to you. So she was not closing herself up with everyone because of the game, she was closing herself up with you.

-

Hyun-ju's head was an absolute mess. She involved you in this- she involved you in her problems. Again. First, you passed out from overworking yourself for her sake, and now, you were in this deadly game with the sole purpose to help her.

What did she do to deserve this? You didn't deserve her. You didn't deserve to drown yourself in debt and work because of her. You didn't deserve to risk your life for her. You deserved better. Much more than she could offer.

She unknowingly had pushed you away. You needed to get away from her- this was a problem she needed to solve herself. You should wait patiently at home, rest, have a good meal for once, and-

"Hyun-ju?"

. . .

Oh, you had her wrapped around your finger, didn't you?

"please, wait. Don't turn away from me."

As she was lost in her thoughts (not that you were much different), you had approached her. It was lunchtime, and the people she had been talking to were seemingly somewhere else- it was a perfect opportunity, and you couldn't miss this chance.

"Hyun-ju, can we please talk to each other as adults? I have been confused, all i need to know is why are you pushing me away-? I am your partner. I only wish the best for you, that is the purpose of me entering this competition-"

She didn't let you finish your statement as she responded in a way less aggressive tone than the first time you discussed.

"My- my love. I- i am at a loss for words. You shouldn't be here, this is an goal that is for me to reach. The fact that you are doing this for a reason such as me makes me feel... complicated feelings." she responded anxiously after some time.

"I feel angry, i feel saddened, i feel happy... But any of these feelings can't compare to the worry i am feeling."

You tried getting close to her and reaching out a hand, but the lingering feeling that she might not have completely forgiven you yet plagues your mind.

"Hyun-ju-"

"Please."

Your body is engulfed in a bone-crushing hug from her. You could feel your shoulder becoming wet through the fabric of your shirt. Tears, snot, saliva, anything that was worth of a cry was there.

"Please, tell me you will stop being so selfish, i want you to be safe, to be happy- your life shouldn't depend on medical modifications i plan to do on my body." Her voice was shaky as she loudly sniffed and sobbed.

"I don't wish for you to sacrifice anything else for me- i just want- i just want you."

At this point, you were already holding her on your lap and holding her face close to you neck as she sobbed, her entire body glued against yours. Despite her size, she was still your 'pretty, cute princess'.

"I'm sorry... Please- stick close to me. Don't leave my size ever again." She looked up from your shoulder and fixed her gaze straight to your eyes.

"I won't. We will go through this together. And when this all ends- we are going to Thailand. Like we planned. Alright?" You gave her a comforting kiss on her forehead as you promised.

At least, you hoped so.

￣ ￣ ￣ ￣

[grison-in-space]

One of my favorite teaching moments was the time that one of the students in my class (a Classics double major that had long since forgotten that anyone else in Genetics Lab might have humanities interests) snapped the opening lines to another student out in the middle of a play argument. I gasped at him, the other student demanded to know what the first had said, I provided my own translation ("I'll rape you in the ass and mouth, cockslut Aurelius and ass-hungry Marcus") and formally made the point that we do not say shit like this unless we expect to stand by our words when someone unexpectedly understands them. Then we got into a brief argument about whether irrumare is better translated as "to skullfuck" or "to rape one's face" and a much longer discussion about the way that toxic masculinity relates to homosexuality and prescriptive sexual behavior.

For the record, what aetherograph is referring to is actually the Roman verb irrumare itself. It is a violent word, and while all the folks above are right that Romans and Greeks alike had a lot of moral panic surrounding men being the receiving partner of penetrative sex, irrumare is specifically more threatening and insulting than, say, pedicare: you're specifically muting the person and potentially blocking their airways here, making them even more vulnerable. It also implies very strongly that the penetrating person is controlling the movement: this is not a verb that can be translated synonymously to "blowing" a person, for example. The word means to forcibly fuck a person's mouth, an act so degrading that it is beyond imagination that an upstanding man would or could tolerate it without being forced.

These are Bad Words to a Roman, and I think translations should incorporate that as well as trying to convey the violence of the words. I really don't like translations that try to downplay the extent to which Catullus 16 is a very, very vivid rape threat in response to (inferred) loss of masculine status on account of spending too much time and attention with female lovers. I think there is a tendency to be delighted by profanity and obscenity themselves in the hallowed halls of literature, and certainly this is one hell of an ancient Italian poetic tradition that continues well into the modern day. But I also think that obscenity and poetry both exist to turn strong feelings into meaning, and I think Catullus' poetry is most powerful and effective when we stop thinking about how naughtily he was saying something and start thinking about what exactly he was saying as he did it.

Catullus certainly is one of the Roman poets that fucked, but Catullus 16 is not a romantic poem but a violent one. (This isn't that uncommon for Catullus, who writes vividly about sex, emotion, and violence as recurring themes and can be almost as aggressive to women as to men. One of his other famous ones, Catullus 11, involves him feeling spurned by a lover and declaring that his friends Furius and Aurelius should go tell her that he says he hopes she's happy with all her many suitors, her three hundred lovers, none of which she truly touches despite the rupture of their thighs; another (Catullus 58) has him complaining that his lover whom he was so attached to is off lying in the back alleys fucking all the "grandsons of Remus," AKA any Roman who shows up and hikes up his tunic.) He was also very capable of mushy sweetness! But the anger is always there lurking beneath the surface.

He was a complicated guy. His poetry is constructed in careful layers of meaning around astonishingly raw emotions, glittering and artistic to behold. He was absolutely a man of his own time and place, which makes him translator catnip. But that time and place was Imperial Rome, and translators ought to work to communicate exactly what sort of place Rome could be, too.

you cant even begin poems with "i will sodomise and facef uck you" anymore. because of woke .

[pokemonshelterstories]

So I recently was..blessed...with an applin with a ..unique condition ...Bicephaly... and I love the little fellas but I'm worried for them? I can't find much info on this happening in the aplin line but I do know one evolutionary path has multiple heads? Is there anything I should keep a look out for

how interesting...reptilian pokemon have been known to survive with bicephaly longer than, say, bird or mammal pokemon- but to be quite honest, you need to prepare yourself for the likelihood that this applin will not survive long. bicephaly is an extensive malformation, and it comes with a variety of potential complications. this applin is also going to need to change apples frequently. applin aren't designed to fit multiple heads into a single apple, and they're possibly going to crowd each other out.

as for evolution...while hydrapple has multiple heads, it also has multiple bodies. each of its syrpents is a separate individual. chances are, your applin is unable to evolve at all, because a pokemon's body will shut down evolution if there are significant complications to the process. but even if it were able to evolve, i would recommend against trying. you don't know how its already aberrant body will mutate further under the influence of evolution, and evolution carries a significant risk of fatality in this scenario.

good luck with this little guy. you'll need to get a specialist veterinarian appointment asap to determine what its internal organs look like, because that's where the highest possibility of a fatal malformation is going to be. the vet can also tell you more about how to give it the best shot at long term survival, or let you know if humane euthanasia would be the kindest option.

[wandixx]

"There is only so much you can for the dead" part 2

continuation to this, I should probably make an original title at some point

trigger warnings: graphic describtion of Danny's death

Moments of blissed, deadly stillness felt unfairly short. It was less than blink of an eye, less than a drop of darkness after he asked Team for the last time to leave and before he woke up, in exactly same state that he was when portal spat him out. He could barely perceive his limbs, and what he could, was consumed by agonising pain.

Fuck, he hated Death Days. Absolutely horrible experience.

His nerves were on fire, electricity dancing and burning across them. His veins and lungs and nostrils and ears and stomach and eyes and mouth and every little crevice of his body was filled with ectoplasm, like liquid fire and evaporated ice, drowning him at every attempted breath. He was crushed by an unimaginable weight, at the same time as his body exploded. He was just coherent enough to feel his bones breaking, cells bursting, his very molecules being rearranged and destroyed and rebuilt but not coherent enough to tell if his scream was anything louder than a whimper.

He was in the middle of the crowd that screamed louder than he could handle, as if every person who ever got to Ghost Zone used this exact moment to let out all of their anguish, hands dragging and pulling and squeezing and brushing at every inch of his skin. He was alone like no one was ever before, in silence that was deafening. He could be stomped to death any second without anyone turning his head, and so separate from everything that he could be only existing being.

He couldn’t help but wait for Death, merciless and brutal, whose twisted children invaded his bed time stories since he could understood words, whose corrupted children he was taught to hate. She was hideous and horrifying, but against everything, she was familiar and he wanted, needed, to see one intimate face in the situation that was so wrong, wrong, wrong. He waited for her to rip his last breath away so everything would stop.

If he had a scrap of himself that could feel worse, it’d cry when he felt her getting away from him, slipping between the fingers that were both tense and limp, impossible to control but possible to feel, broken and twitching. She was getting away but pain wasn’t lessening, maybe even getting worse, to the point where it was only thing that filled his brain.

And then it all stopped. No pain, not even any left over typical to how injuries worked, just a moment of weird pressure against his palm (just like the button), that soon stopped too.

He was in his human form, but in the hazmat he wore just before the accident. Something was wrong about it all. Something in his body made it feel like not his. Something in his chest was too light and too quiet and some intrusive thought made him want to claw on his rib cage until he ripped it open and realized what was missing.

Breathing seemed to easy, enough that he got lightheaded. It got a lot harder when he realized.

He couldn’t feel his core.

Before he managed to come to terms with that, there was a gentle pressure on his hand again.

And the pain returned.

*-*-*

Danny didn't wake up abruptly, with a choked scream and phantom burns. He also didn't wake up slowly, not in the nice, relaxed way at least, when the line between dream and reality is blurred beyond recognition. He woke up in pain, feeling like he wasn't even sleeping before, just… somewhere else while his body was destroying itself again for what felt like decades.

It took some effort to connect with his body after he woke up. To be able to move even a finger. Even longer, to open his eyes. Actual ages to sit up without urge to scream.

After seeing the absolute wreckage of the room, he kinda wished it took him longer. It looked like a warzone. Electrical burns on the walls and ceiling, random puddles of bubbling ectoplasm eating away anything they touched like an acid, and what little stuff there was before, was almost all broken beyond recognition, either by whatever force was doing its thing during his death day show or ecto. When he looked at it a bit more, it seemed to go in spiral around him.

It was kinda sad that the cookies went to waste like that. He was curious who brought them in though.

Thank fucking Ancients that Team listened to him and nobody was there when the whole mess was going down. They would probably join him on the other side of the veil otherwise.

He saw it all only because of his ghost enhanced in dark vision (thank Ancients he stayed in the ghost form) because apparently his Death Day shorted out both main electrical circuit and the emergency one. Thankfully, according to his ears, it only reached this and rooms next to him, instead of the whole Mountain.

Fuck. He really hoped Robin gave him some sort of back-up back-up room because otherwise he was dead. Or well, dead-er.

He rolled out of the bed, barely catching himself from smacking on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Though some would argue he didn’t catch himself if only his face didn’t fall to the floor like the sack of potatoes.

Only then he caught sight of big, ecto-green circle that embed itself into the wall right over the bed. It had familiar vibes. Really familiar…

He had to tell the Team about it yesterday.

*-*-*

M'gann was sitting on the needles, just like everyone else. Sure, Phantom asked them to forget about him and essentially ignore whatever was happening to him, but there was no way they'd actually be able to do it. Case in point, first time alarms about shorting out of the electrical circuit in the room. They run there so fast that they had door open to see what was wrong before the absolute onslaught of electricity and ectoplasm and something else turned off the alarms thirty seconds later. Truth be told, they couldn’t do much, not without risking becoming second ghostly member of the Team, they’ve been there and ready. Conner tried to come in anyway, with his invulnerability and such, but they had to drag him out when despite extensive dodging he got hit five times by the time he got two steps into the room. Also, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

So they just spent last almost twenty hours alternating between different things to keep themselves occupied enough to not fall asleep and distract themselves from quilt but not enough to not be able to drop it at the moments notice if it was needed. First plan was to nap in shifts if it was necessary but it quickly became apparent that sleep was impossible with how worried everyone was and when M'gann proposed to just shut down their brains with her powers, everyone got really defensive. Well, no was no. So they just sat, at the moment in awkward silence because every topic that wasn't Phantom felt too inane and every topic that was Phantom felt too… just no. No name for why, just no.

M'gann was about to get up to make another batch of peanut butter and oatmeal snacks that took few minutes to make and could be dropped at any second, when Conner practically jumped in his seat, tilting his head to hear better. Robin perked up from whatever he was doing on his wrist computer at the same time.

"Phantom left the room!” they exclaimed at the same time, jumping out of their seats.

This head start didn’t matter by the time everyone ran or flew out to the corridor, racing against clock to the room where they left Phantom. It didn’t seems so before, but now M’gann just cursed their past selves for not waiting somewhere closer. There wasn’t really any place where they could stay instead, unless they set camp right outside his door, but it still. They should be there five minutes ago, like Wally, who obviously run off.

They heard Wally speaking before they’ve seen him.

“Hey, hey calm down. It’s fine, they’ll be there in a second, just chill. They’re right after me, whatever happened, we’ll help you in just a moment, you don’t have to run. You’re barely standing. Phantom, calm down”

M’gann barely made it around the corner and she thought she had seen Kaldur actually smacking into the wall. He brushed it off.

Phantom looked beyond rough. It seemed like Wally, who had ghost’s arm across his shoulders, was only thing holding him up. His feet were firmly on the ground, not in his usual way, when he looked just a breeze away from flying, but in this fully human way, which was unsettling. His face was gray instead of his usual almost tan, eyes wide and terrified.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

“Phantom, it’s fine. It’s fine, we know about the room, it’s fine,” Robin said, trying to placate him. It didn’t quite work. Ghost was on the verge of hyperventilating, which was a bit weird to see on someone for who breathing was voluntary.

“It’s not about room”

“I’m sure it’s fine anyway”

“It’s anything but. I’m sorry-”

“Shut up and tell us what happened if you’re so sure we will be pissed”

“Artemis!”

“Portal”

“What about it?”

“Portal is what killed me.”

M’gann didn’t like how the whole situation looked before, but it suddenly became much worse.

“My Death Day made another one”

[utilitycaster]

thank you so much for your analysis on BH, Ive been thinking for ages that they seemed like the wrong fit for this particular campaign and it's nice to see that I'm not alone. It kinda baffled me that even knowing the crux of the campaign was going to be about the fate of the gods, Matt didn't like... just tell the cast that their characters opinion on divinity would be important?

I really feel like this plot needed more religious characters, even if they weren't outright clerics or paladins. The only one filling that role is Sam and while I love him and FCG his approach to religion seems kinda... cynical? shallow? Possibly just more focused on the goofs of it all. Which is a fine choice in a vacuum but god, what I wouldn't do for this party to have a Caduceus or even a Vax figure so it didn't feel like a bunch of agnostics were deciding the fate of religion.

So here's my opinion, and I've said this before: I agree that making characters who had a coherent, developed opinion on divinity before the campaign that was discussed as part of the character build is important...but I actually don't think it matters if there's no clerics or paladins or even religious characters. I also said this before: my ultimate problem, in the end, is not just the indecision but the fact that they're not even exploring indecision; they just are drifting through a narrative from which they feel disconnected. I as a person viewing the show think killing the gods is a dumb idea, but a campaign in which the characters confidently embraced an anti-god position and took actions in the service of that goal would be infinitely more enjoyable. I do not need characters to live out my personal values, because I do that in my real life, in the same way that I can enjoy characters who are vastly different than I in personality.

I think Keyleth is a fantastic example of both indecision as an actual conscious character trait (during Campaign 1) and a character who is not religious or even particularly respects the gods but who seems to have actually thought through the implications and made an assessment. Keyleth's analysis paralysis and fear of making a harmful decision or being hurt is the point of the character, and Marisha explores it directly during Campaign 1; it is ultimately what is holding Keyleth back from becoming the leader she needs to be, and working through it is the arc of her character. Avoidance or indecision is a fantastic character flaw to explore (Bellara in Veilguard is a recent example that's been on my mind) but it is a character flaw to be explored, and for the character to do something interesting with, and Bells Hells just...as I've said, drift. They keep going through open doors because they are there and never say "do I even want to go through this door? Why or why not?" and the entire purpose of a character in fiction, in my opinion, is to ask that question.

I actually pretty strongly disagree about FCG. I think they took a bit longer than I'd like to click but I actually found FCG's exploration of religion to be one of the deeper ones in the series. I think the party often disparaged it, and the fandom certainly did ("Fearne should make that stupid robot eat his own coin" will remain burned in my brain forever; I cannot take someone who said that as anything but a shriveled husk of a person unless they admit it was horribly mean-spirited and they regret it) but FCG is the rare member of Bells Hells who actually explored the concept of having autonomy and agency - that was his entire arc, actually - and to have this be told through embracing the god of chance and freedom, whom he learned about by chance, was a highlight of the campaign. I would strongly advise you reconsider seeing this as nothing but a bit; just because Sam tends to make a lot of dumb jokes doesn't mean he's not often telling a pretty profound story underneath, and this is a lesson it took me until this campaign to learn, to be honest. But I will say I don't think FCG being here now would fix things any more than Braius does, in part because the rest of the party looked down on faith but also didn't really condemn it. They just made vaguely unkind comments and continued doing fuck all. As my ask earlier today said, they didn't actually challenge each other; they just sort of passive-aggressively bitch. The point that many people made very early on, that Bells Hells has a veneer of cooperation and civility but lack the actual true bonds that only arise through working through conflict, remains true.

Getting back to it, I think the fact that NPCs who are not affiliated with the Prime deities nor Betrayer Gods and even struggle against them (Percy, Keyleth; the entire Kryn Dynasty; a massive number of entirely secular governments including the Clovis Concord, the remnants of the Cerberus Assembly, as far as I know the Marquesian governments, the Silken Squall) are unambiguously against Ludinus and the release of Predathos means that it's not the lack of clerics or paladins or everyday religious people. I don't care if agnostics decide the fate of the world, but DAMN those agnostics better have a fucking vision for what the world should be. I could talk at length about why I think killing the gods is a deranged and unrealistic solution to the problems the characters claim to think it will fix, but ultimately I don't even feel like the characters care about those problems. The titans are still going to be fucking dead, conquest and colonialism already exist within Exandria without the aid of any gods. Hell, Ashton's whole situation could be replicated precisely again in a world with no gods; and as the Ruidusborn were created by Predathos as keys to release it, I don't think there's a reason to have any more but I don't think that's really what Imogen was going for. It's the same kind of thing we call rapture culture among terminally online types: the idea that with one big act of violence you will usher in a new, better age. The idea that violent change is inherently for the better is infantile and utterly self-centered, as is the idea that putting off a choice until it becomes inevitable is anything other than selfish and stupid. I would rather the choice of the fate of the gods come from atheists who weren't infantile and self-centered and selfish and stupid than clerics and paladins who were. That's it.

[heartbreakterrorbird]

I agree however I think it should be kept in mind that Javert was born in roughly 1780, the french revolution beginning in 1789. He grew up during a period of anarchy and bloodshed so he desires not just to subsume himself to authority but to maintain social order, something which he sees as the thing keeping society from anarchy. Enjolras is young and hasn't experienced the trauma of revolution so violence and killing on a large scale is to him a concept not a reality. Javert's need to maintain social order is a direct response to the experience of bloody revolution

'This man was composed of two very simple and two very good sentiments, comparatively; but he rendered them almost bad, by dint of exaggerating them,—respect for authority, hatred of rebellion; and in his eyes, murder, robbery, all crimes, are only forms of rebellion. He enveloped in a blind and profound faith every one who had a function in the state, from the prime minister to the rural policeman.'

Here Hugo emphasises Javert's hatred of rebellion and the perceived relationship between authority and revolution. I would say he even suggests that hatred of revolution is a good thing, having experienced the revolution himself he lacked Enjolras' naivety. Javert has faith in those he seems as maintaining society because they are, to him, the bastion holding back another bloody revolution. So while I agree Javert is hard and uncaring towards the well-being of the individual I think it is because he subsumes that well-being beneath the well-being of society. Or as Mr Spock always said: "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Javert just expresses that sentiment in a misguided way driven by his personal fears and experiences.

So while I agree with you in many ways I don't think he 'only cares about punishing people society has told him to hate.' Hugo tells us that while Javert is merciless in maintaining order he is not excessively cruel

Javert began again calmly:—

“That’s right, that’s good, I said so, you are nice fellows.”

“I only ask one thing,” said Bigrenaille, “and that is, that I may not be denied tobacco while I am in confinement.”

“Granted,” said Javert.

Those he perceives as accepting their wrongdoing he is amicable with and even allows them some comforts in prison. He's not corrupt, he doesn't take pleasure in suffering, he takes pleasure in what he sees as the righting of wrongs: i.e this devil has tried to destabilise society and now society shall see him in prison for it.

“Ah! Indeed, Mr. Mayor, it’s a bad business. If he is Jean Valjean, he has his previous conviction against him. To climb a wall, to break a branch, to purloin apples, is a mischievous trick in a child; for a man it is a misdemeanor; for a convict it is a crime. Robbing and housebreaking—it is all there. It is no longer a question of correctional police; it is a matter for the Court of Assizes. It is no longer a matter of a few days in prison; it is the galleys for life. And then, there is the affair with the little Savoyard, who will return, I hope.

Javert sees a short prison sentence as a sort of correctional to guide someone to a better life, if that person decides to continue down the 'wrong path' he perceives this as an intentional attack on society. A lot of people say he has issue with JVJ because of the bread but it's what JVJ did AFTER prison that matters. Javert is seeing him as a man who hates society so much that even after experiencing 19 years of prison he would still rob a small child of nothing more than a coin. This is a man who's destructive for the sake of it. JVJ was also accused of trying to rob a separate priest after he was set free by the Bishop of Digne. Yes Javert's hatred of JVJ is misguided if it's over some bread but that's because it's not, it's over JVJ's choices post prison when he was- in that brief moment before enlightenment - a genuinely dangerous and hateful man who threatened to beat a child and almost murdered an innocent man in his bed.

One important thing about Les Mis that I feel a lot of people miss is that…… Javert is not the novel’s symbol of justice. Enjolras is.

 Javert represents authority, which is often cruel and unjust. Enjolras represents actual justice, social justice, he represents the laws of conscience/love that are superior to the flawed and bigoted laws of mankind (which is why he’s literally compared to Themis, the goddess of justice.)  Lots of adaptations write Javert as someone who cares about making society better and protecting the innocent, but he isn’t and he doesn’t??? Javert cares about authority. His entire personality is built on “respect for authority and hatred of rebellion.”  Javert doesn’t care about “having compassion or making tough decisions to protect people;” he cares about submitting to authority at all times. The government is right because it is the government. Any crime or rebellion is wrong because it is against the government. Anyone who is treated badly by the government deserves to be treated badly, because authority is always right. Rich people are always morally superior to poor people, and the outcasts of society deserve to be beaten down because they are outcasts – and the thing that’s tragic about his horrible violent mentality is that he is a part of the same class of outcasts he’s beating down, and doesn’t value the lives of other people because he doesn’t value his own.  If mercy is kindness you don’t deserve, while justice is the treatment you do deserve– then Javert isn’t just merciless, he’s unjust.

He can’t be a symbol of justice because all he cares about is blindly obeying authority and calling that “justice.” Sending Valjean to prison for stealing a loaf of bread and a coin isn’t just merciless, it’s unjust. Tormenting Fantine until her death for acting in self-defense isn’t just merciless, it’s unjust. They didn’t deserve what he did to them, and the only reason he can believe it’s right is because he canonically Refuses to Think about it– because he’s literally so Brainwashed by authority as a result of his tragic past that he believes any independent thought is a form of rebellion that must be suppressed.

Thought was something to which he was unused, and which was peculiarly painful. In thought there always exists a certain amount of internal rebellion; and it irritated him to have that within him.

Enjolras, meanwhile, actually cares about helping people and creating a better world. Enjolras cares about uplifting the people around him, he cares about giving people the help and the support that they deserve. He wants the world to be free. The goal of the rebels is to replace the monarchy, a dictatorship, with a republic where people can vote for their leaders. They want to eliminate poverty, fight for universal education, and give people the dignity they’re entitled to. 

Meanwhile Javert is a tragically brainwashed authoritarian whose only goal is to punish anyone who doesn’t keep their head low enough– including punishing himself. He’s motivated entirely by fear and hatred; the hatred of people like Valjean and Fantine, and the fear that he’ll become like them.  (Javert cares so little about protecting people that it’s a plot point multiple times that he’s so busy Punishing the perpetrator of a crime that he doesn’t talk to the victim at all. He respects authority, but he doesn’t love it, and doesn’t care about protecting people. He only cares about punishing the people who the government has told him to hate.)

I guess the thing is: adaptations are in love with the idea that Valjean represents mercy while Javert represents justice. But I feel like Enjolras is a much better counterpoint to Valjean’s philosophy than Javert. 

Valjean and Enjolras are like:

Valjean: I think that it’s important to focus on mercy above justice.

Enjolras: But we can’t have forgiveness until we’ve had accountability.  I agonize over every decision I make, but sometimes there is absolutely no way to create a better world without causing harm to the people who are currently abusing their power to hurt us. True justice can only come when the people in power are making reparations.

While Valjean and Javert are like:

Valjean: I think that it’s important to focus on mercy above justice Javert:   You THINK about things??? Even when the government hasn’t ORDERED you to think????

Valjean:��uh

Javert: *rocking back and forth in the fetal position covering his ears with his hands* The government does all the thinking for us, so we don’t have to!! Anyone who has their own thoughts is a rebel who should be shot. The State says that poor people are bad and deserve to suffer! Disagreeing with the government makes you a rebel!!!!!! Having thoughts of your own makes you a rebel!  Any “kindness” that goes against the orders of the state is FALSE KINDNESS that will turn the world inside out!!!!!!! Supporting poor people against rich people, the people who are low in the world against the people who are high– that is FALSE KINDNESS!!!!!  Real justice is when you shut off your brain, accept your place, and blindly obey the government without thinking!!! 

Valjean: hmm

[bitethedevil]

When Gale become a god how can he sent Raphael to hells? Isn’t Raphael supposed to be powerful? Gods are above ?

A Guide to Gods, Devils, and Raphael

To answer the first part of the question: technically we can send him to the Hells too. If you try to damage Mizora, she just goes back to the Hells. If you kill a devil on the Material Plane, they also return to the Hells. When it comes to the relationship between gods and devils, it’s a bit more complicated and some background knowledge is needed. I’ve written a bit about it here.

I’m going to take this as an opportunity to brush up on some things and collect them in one post. Brace yourself, it’s one of the longer ones.

Gods and Devils

It all starts with the Pact Primeval. I’ve copied some of this from my own post above.

In the beginning of everything, there was chaos. Out of that chaos came the demons (who are not devils). Lawful deities began to fight that chaos but eventually they got tired of it because there were seemingly an endless supply of demons. The gods couldn’t be bothered anymore and created angels to this job for them.

One of those angels was Asmodeus, who is still the top dog in the Hells. He was the shit at killing demons. The trouble was that the more the angels fought the demons, the more traits they came to share with them to fight them more efficiently. They turned ugly and twisted too because the demons they fought were so, and that is why they look like they do now.

The gods then saw how their angels had changed, and they were disgusted by it. They did not want those twisted beings living anywhere near them. They tried to banish Asmodeus and the other angels from the Heavens.

Asmodeus was not having any of that. There came a trial and Asmodeus essentially pointed out that “hey, I actually just did what I was made for, and I did it pretty damn well too. We’ve only dirtied our hands so yours can stay clean. If we are to be lawful beings, then this charge isn’t a fair one”. Asmodeus could “wield the law like a knife” and the deities had to admit that what he was saying was right, so they couldn’t do much.

Eventually, the deities had made intelligent beings (humanoids) and to protect these beings, they made barriers between them and the demons. To their horror, the deities saw that some of the intelligent beings they had so carefully tried to protect, insisted on breaking these barriers and letting demons into their world. The gods were confused and exasperated at this and weren’t sure how to stop them.

That is when Asmodeus comes in with a plan: There should be punishments for those who disobey the gods, or else there will continue to be chaos. So, Asmodeus, Mephistopheles and Dispater (who would all eventually become archdevils), along with the other twisted angels went out and punished the wrong doers.

As these tortured and punished people trickled into the Heavens after their death, the deities were once again disgusted and pulled in Asmodeus to answer for this. They did not want those punished mortals in their realm, so Asmodeus came with another solution: basically, creating the Hells. All he wanted in return was to be able to draw power from the souls of those he punishes, since they (the twisted angels) cannot draw power from the gods while being separated from them

The gods all agreed and signed what would be known as the Pact Primeval which held these terms. The gods then freaked out when they found out that what has now become the devils of the Hells encourage people to do wrong so that they end up in the Hells. When confronted with this by the angry gods, Asmodeus simply smiles and answers: Read the fine print.

And tadaa. The Hells are the Hells and devils are devils, and it had been this way since the Pact Primeval.

The gods are stronger than even the Archdevils, but some devils, like Asmodeus, has grasped at godhood and achieved it, which muddies things a bit. Generally though, devils don’t have much on the gods, but due to being tangled up in being Lawful, the gods can’t do much about what goes on in the Hells. Think of the Hells as a sort of republic that still has beef with the country they came from.

The Hells, Hierachy and True Devils

The Hells is a place where there is a strict hierarchical society. You start out as a Lesser Devil, which is usually lemures (creatures who are globs of stinking flesh that barely has a conciousness) and imps. If you’re good at what you do, you can eventually get promoted to being a Greater Devil, and if you are truly the shit and you stab all the right backs to get there, you can become an archdevil one day.

The process for promotion is pretty gross. With True Devils, they have a bunch of sacs inside them that explode and make them into their new form.

The whole point of bowing and scraping to the ones above you is so that you can get promoted. However, if you screw up, you will get demoted instead. Say that you are a Spined Devil, and you get caught sabotaging the Archdevil you work for: they might pull you down a rank or worse, they will demote you back to being a lemure and you have to start all over again.

If you have made a deal with a devil while alive, you will end up in the Hells when you die as a lemure. Everyone starts at the lowest level when they die.

Raphael and Cambions

Raphael is a cambion, which means that he is half mortal and half-devil, and thus he is not a True Devil. Raphael hasn’t died and gone to the Hells. He was never a lemure (though he might become one if his daddy eats him in your playthrough). He started out as a cambion, and a cambion he will continue to be. Cambions, to my understanding, can’t get promoted or demoted, since they haven’t died or started out as lemures.

Cambions are pretty far down in the hierarchy. They only have their cunning and their ambition to get them anywhere in the Hells. Raphael is essentially suffering from Chihuahua Syndrome, where he acts like a much bigger dog than he is, because the truth is that he doesn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things and the other bigger and scarier devils barely give him a second glance (sorry pookie).

He has achieved much for a cambion though, and he uses his charm, cunning, and outside sources to achieve all of that. I suspect that the little trick he does with his ascended form is something that takes a lot of souls to achieve and isn’t truly permanent in any way. He is a cambion so his only true forms are the human one and the devil one (yes, the human one is actually not an illusion per Fifth Edition DnD. That is his form too and really him. I learned this recently).

Raphael’s main strong suit is the fact that him being a cambion means that he can go to the Material Plane and collect souls. Not all devils can leave the Hells like that.

So basically…

The gods are above the Archdevils in strength, the Archdevils above the Greater Devils, and the Greater Devils above the Lesser Devils. I think Raphael fits somewhere between just above the lowest of the Lesser Devils but under Greater Devils. It’s no wonder that he wants the Crown of Karsus. He needs all the help he can get to get where he wants to be.

Just imagine how much it sucks though: your dad is a literal archdevil and because your mother is a mortal, everyone else in your surroundings will treat you only slightly better than a damn lemure. Poor little guy.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[nikoniclove]

hello! i haven't read all of the ace in the hole fics yet, so i don't know if this idea works with the ages you have in mind for the characters, but i know emily (and jj) are a lot older than ace and paget went grey pretty young irl so it might work

could you do a chapter where somebody mistakes emily for being henry's grandma (a young grandma, to be fair) instead of his mom and showing her dealing with the insecurities of being an older parent and worrying that she won't be able to be as present as she wants to be in henry's life when she gets older? or feel free to completely ignore this request if it doesn't work with the character's ages lmao. thank you!

Ao3 won’t load, so for now, this one will live here. It will eventually get copied over to as a new one-shot in an existing story once the gods accept my fluff offering.

Mislabeled

AN: set after Therapy Has Paws, also includes a brief (very brief) look at Ace pregnant with #2

——

Emily hustles Henry inside for summer camp, a week of Lego Robotics while school is out. “Excited,” she asks with a smile as he skips merrily to the intake desk.

“I’m building dancing ducks today!”

“Maybe when I pick you up, you can show me your progress! I bet it will be super cool, bud.”

The woman at the desk can’t be out of college. She asks for Henry’s name twice. “Can I build Legos now,” he grumbles when it takes her longer than he thinks it should.

“Sorry, we don’t have grandparents on file. Can you tell me your name so I can register the adult who is dropping him off?”

“She’s not a grandma. She’s an imma,” Henry explains with growing annoyance that he’s still not surrounded by Legos. When the woman looks confused, Henry elaborates again. “Imma is like Mama or Mommy but in Arabic and Hebrew.”

“Right. Sorry,” the woman says sheepishly.

“I’m already on file. Emily Prentiss.”

“Right, yeah, I’ve got you checked in, Henry. You know where to go?” He rolls his eyes because obviously he knows where to go.

“Hey, come here,” Emily prompts, crouching to his level. He immediately reaches for her hair, twisting the shoulder-length, silvery locks between little fingers. It’s always been a soothing tactile sensation for him, given that all three of his grown ups have longer hair. “We can choose to be kind,” she reminds him in French. “Remember not everyone is familiar with how our family works, and that’s okay. It only has to make sense to us.”

“Okay, can I go now?” Emily nods, whispering her love as he clamors off towards the hallway. “Bye, Imma! Wait, wait!” He races back, wrapping his pinkie around hers. She kisses their joined fingers three times in rapid succession. “Okay, now bye!”

Emily watches long enough to make sure he gets to the correct door and then heads back to her car, ignoring the jab at her age. Or at least trying to.

All day long, she is shorter with people than she’d like to be. JJ calls her out on it mid-afternoon, and Emily is annoyed that she is letting such an insignificant comment from a young stranger affect her this much. “It’s nothing,” Emily insists. “Get back to work.” JJ scoffs humorously because they both know that phrase will not have the intended effect. “Jennifer.”

“It’s obviously something.”

Emily sighs, pressing her fingertips into her eyes. “It’s stupid. The lady at drop off thought I was Henry’s grandmother, and he corrected her with about as much attitude as your previous response in case we needed more evidence that he’s your son through and through.”

“I’m sorry that it hurt your feelings,” JJ sympathizes, ignoring the attempted deflection about Henry’s sass. “People should really get used to the silver vixen look being for any age, especially when you rock it so well.” Emily grumbles, and JJ realizes she’s not ready to hear physical compliments yet. “What’d you tell Henry?”

“The line about people not needing to understand our family and that we can choose to be kind.”

“Seems like you handled it well then, which is no surprise because you’re a great mother.” Emily hums a noncommittal sound. “I’m sorry it’s thrown you off balance today. We can help you level out later tonight,” JJ offers. “What else can I do, Em?” As expected, Emily brushes it off, and when she sends JJ back to her desk, the blonde actually listens.

When Emily arrives at pick up, she grumbles to realize how grateful she is that the incorrect stranger isn’t behind the desk. “I’m here for Henry Prentiss. I’m his mom. He should be in C1.” Another college student disappears to find him, returning with the child.

“Imma!” Emily easily swings him onto her hip, despite his lanky legs. He’s her boy after all. She scribbles out her signature and shows her ID to confirm her identity. As she gets Henry into his car seat, he yammers a mile a minute about all the things he built. “Me and Duncan are working on a pirate ship!”

“Duncan and I,” she corrects with a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re not building the Legos! I am! You gotta go work, and I get to play with Legos.”

“You’re spot on there, kiddo. Ready to get home to moms?”

“Can we get ice cream, Imma?” He flutters his eyelashes at her, and she chuckles, declining easily. “Please! I won’t tell!”

“Of course you would,” Emily laughs. “It’s the first thing you’d do. You’d run in, all hyped up on sugar, and giggle while you tell Mama our secret.” He shrugs with a toothy grin and emphasizes the please. “Pretty please is not going to help you now, but I do know we have ice cream in the freezer, so maybe have dinner we can have some.”

“Hmm.” Henry decides it’s a worthy compromise. “What’s Mama making?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Hen, but I’m sure it’ll be tasty.”

Henry is quiet in the backseat with the exception of his legs swinging in the open space. “Imma?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Why did the lady think you were my grandma? Does she know Mimi or Mémé?”

Emily’s knuckles whiten, as she tightens her hands around the steering wheel. “No. She doesn’t. She saw my gray hair and assumed I was someone else to you.” Henry’s little head tips to the side as he tries to understand. “She decided I looked a certain way, and to her, that meant I must be your grandparent instead of your parent.”

“Just cause your hair is silver? That’s what Mama and Mommy call it. It’s silver.” Emily’s chuckle is strained. For some reason this conversation aches. “A lot of superheroes have silver hair, and Mama says you’re like a superhero but you get the bad guys in real life.”

“Oh yeah?” Emily glances in the rearview mirror at her son, who looks out the window listing off characters left and right. Everyone from Storm to Quicksilver, Rogue to Black Cat. “What do you think of my silver hair?”

“It’s pretty, and it’s soft,” Henry answers seriously. “And superheroes have silver hair, and that’s cool,” he rambles. “Would you fly?”

“If I could have a superpower,” she clarifies. “Hmm. Good question. I’d like to teleport or make multiple copies of myself, so I could be home with you more. Would you fly?”

“I’d be like a basilisk lizard!”

“Okay,” Emily chuckles at his adorable boyish enthusiasm. “What superpower would that be?”

“In the Wild Kratts book, they have these webbed big feet, so they run really fast on water, and Mommy showed me a video and they’re really silly. I wanna run so so fast that I can run on water.”

“Hmm, that’s cool. I didn’t know that. If you want to be super fast, it seems like we should watch The Incredibles. It’s a kids’ movie about a family of superheroes, and they all have different powers. The little boy has super speed.”

“Cool! Can we watch it tonight?”

“Let’s check in with Mama and Mommy, and then we’ll decide. If not tonight, maybe for Family Movie Night this weekend,” Emily offers. Henry decides that’s amenable, and the rest of the drive is filled with song singing.

——

Once the garage door opens, Henry takes off at full speed, bursting through the house. “Dude! Shoes,” Ace calls. “Also, hi?”

“Hi Mama,” Henry replies, toeing off his shoes and kicking them in the general direction of the hall.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Backyard. C’mon, Goose!” The pup near your feet perks an ear up at his name. You nudge him, giving him the command to follow Henry. The rescue service dog trots in that direction. “Imma said ice cream for dinner!”

“Imma said no such thing,” Emily denies emphatically. “Stop getting me in trouble,” she playfully calls out to Henry. “I get in enough of that on my own, bud.” She leans her hip against the counter, her gaze heavy. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

“Nothing unusual. Jen told me some dick weasel got in your head.”

“That’s certainly a phrase,” Emily chuckles, her hair shifting like a curtain around her shoulders. “Actually Henry fixed it.” You arch your eyebrows. “A lot of superheroes have silver hair, and I was told specifically that it’s silver and not gray. He said you tell him I’m a superhero, so to him it makes sense. Plus he thinks it’s soft and pretty.”

“It is soft, and it is pretty,” you confirm, your hand warm on her cheek. “You seem more settled than JJ described.”

“I snapped at a few people in the office.” Your expression says you know she’s underestimating. “Fine.” As she acquiesces, Emily wraps you in a hug from behind, her chin on your shoulder to nuzzle your neck and her hands interlaced under your pregnant belly. “I snapped at a significant number of people today, but the drive home with Hen was good. It helped. Hearing you say the phrase ‘dick weasel’ also helped, and this smells like coq au vin. Are you going to be able to eat that, love?”

You shrug, leaning back into her stability and comfort. “I’ll do my best. Little Bit could use to eat something that isn’t a bland carb.”

“I don’t think Little Bit gives a shit,” Emily teases. “I can make you some plain pasta when your plan inevitably leads to nausea. Where are the kicks today?” You take her hand, sliding along the underside of your belly to the spot where growing little feet bump you from the inside out.

“They’re calmer now though that I’m up moving. Heaven forbid I sit down for a few minutes, then Little Bit decides to throw a rave in Mama’s belly, huh?”

“Definitely JJ’s kid then,” Emily snarks. “Neither of us are the dance party type people.”

“I don’t know you’ve been known to dance around if the right people ask.”

“Don’t make me tickle you,” she threatens. “I’ll wash my hands and take over. You sit. I can make you some tea.”

With one hand at your lower back, Emily guides you to one of the bar stools. You watch the way her blouse ripples and flutters perfectly around her chest and stomach as she pulls her silvery locks into a low ponytail. She rolls her sleeves, puts the kettle on, and then turns to look at you. “Okay, where were you? Walk me through it.”

“You’re beautiful,” you say instead. Nothing else, nothing verbose or elaborate. Emily glances down at her outfit, briefly trying to understand what you’re seeing after her day fraught with insecurity. Her lips curve in a genuine smile at the simple compliment. You can see it relax her body a bit.

“Coq au vin,” Emily prompts again through her smile.

For whatever JJ was worried about, Emily is at baseline, and your home feels like it’s filled with the warm, stable tenderness you adore.

[solarsturniolo]

ik you've been critical of the triplets before (breath of fresh fucking air tbh)

wanted to know what you thought about the whole mallory situation? she made a tiktok saying she was concerned about their physically aggressive behavior and how she didn't think it was right that they would act like that, and they responded to her tiktok in a friday video. idk i certainly have thoughts but i wanna hear yours if you're ok with sharing them

Oh i was waiting for this one.

To start, THIS IS NOT A HATE POST. But it is something that needs to be said. I’d also like to clarify that i’m not trying to ‘clock’ anyone in this post. This is not meant to spiral out into another episode from them or their fans, but if they aren’t going to be good role models for young impressionable children, I will.

First and foremost, absolutely nothing about the way matt reacted in that video was okay. He is 21 years old, he is a grown adult that pays bills and taxes. He should not be laying his hands on anyone in an aggressive matter, even if they are just brothers. Whether you agree or not, that was abuse. Here is the Oxford dictionary definition of the word abuse, for those of you who need clarification.

Now of course, including content like that in a video is an option. And it was an option that they decided to take. Nick DID NOT have to leave that in the video, and if he hadn’t it wouldn’t have caused so many issues. What gets me the most is that some part of him KNEW it was too much because he edited half of that moment OUT of the video. We saw the extended clip through their photodump that shows just how obnoxiously aggressive Matt’s tantrum was. Not only did he hit Nick (quite hard and in a very vulnerable spot), but he also took a gift that Nick had gotten (gag gift or not, it doesn’t matter) he threw it onto the ground and told him to go and pick it up. The average person knows better than to behave that way, and it was very alarming to see that behavior from someone that we all look up to.

This led to a large divide in the fandom. Some people were (understandably) very uncomfortable with Matt’s behavior. And some people defended it with their lives. Now i’m not saying me and my sisters never fought, but we don’t lay our hands on each other. Idk maybe im out of touch with some new-found sibling abuse agreement or something, but we don’t hit each other. We argue, we get mad at each other, we fight and we make up.

Personally, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with calling out your idols when they do something wrong. At the end of the day, we’re all human and we all make mistakes. It’s easy to forget that when you let fame and money get to your head, making you feel invincible because you know your bandwagon of 13 year olds are going to be at your every beck and call. It’s our job as supporters to remind them that mistakes are okay, but accountability still needs to be taken for actions like that.

When you are in a position where you pay your bills by posting your private life on the internet, you cannot get angry that people are going to have comments and opinions about the stuff that you post on the internet…Nick made a comment in yesterdays video about how people need to mind their own business, but…you…willingly posted…that clip to the internet. For millions of people to see. Nick did not have a gun to his head while editing that video, he did not need to include it but it was a decision that he made.

One reason why i don’t watch them anymore is because they refuse to take accountability for anything that they do. They have also been drawing this out much longer than they needed to. The fanbase would’ve talked about it for a week and forgotten about it with the next friday video. The only reason why it’s still getting attention is because they so badly want to seem ‘unbothered’ by it but they keep bringing it up in everything they do. Matt’s instagram story, his comment on Nick’s recent post, their recent tiktok…literally anything that they have posted in the past week and a half, Matt and Nick just CANNOT HELP THEMSELVES from making a snarky comment. It’s a very icky trait to have imo but i’ll keep my mouth shut on that (since it’s illegal to have opinions in this fandom.)

Personally, I think Mallory was valid in her opinion and responses. Maybe terrifying was a strong word to use, which she has addressed, but it’s not like the boys don’t use hyperboles ALL THE TIME. And nothing about her video was her trying to “cancel the triplets”, she was simply sharing her concerns with Matt’s behavior.

The fanbase LOVESSSS to jump to conclusions. Most of us that had an issue with Matt’s behavior were not trying to cancel them. We’re frustrated because they’re grown adults who refuse to take any constructive criticism or accountability. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, the boys dislike ANYONE who is NOT AN ENABLER. Especially Nick. They LOVE an enabler that doesn’t call them out on their crappy behavior.

Back to yesterday’s video, I was VERY unimpressed with their responses. Snarky comment after snarky comment, only proving more and more that they aren’t unbothered by the situation because they’re trying so hard to prove a point. Why not stay silent like you do with everything else? Your ‘friend’ (who you still communicate with but won’t publicly hang out with) who was cancelled for contacting minors? Didn’t have much to say about that did you? But the second something makes them look bad, they jump the gun and go right into defense mode. It’s so funny to me because people would respect them so much more if they just took some accountability, reflected on their actions, and made a change to their behavior.

Including her tiktok in their video was yet another choice they made, and it was a very immature one. You cannot tell me they didn’t think about the outcome of this situation. Singling out ONE PERSON’S VIDEO, putting a target on their back, and opening the gates for these 13-15 year old hellspawn brainwashed sturniolo cult fans to go and cyberbully someone for having an opinion (and a respectful one at that.)

Also trying to blame Chris and saying Matt was ‘provoked’ into hitting Nick???? Chris made a simple comment??? And this is NOT the first time Matt has gone overboard in a reaction he’s had to one of his brothers. He’s had many outbursts, all of which ARE concerning. Throwing things aggressively, hitting, punching, cussing your brothers out on camera…it’s fucking humiliating???? I am so sorry to break it to you all but nothing about that interaction was Chris’s fault AT ALL. So for Nick to pin it on his younger brother, i found it absolutely ridiculous.

And, to sum it up, Nick did not ‘clock her’. I’m sorry but his responses when people call him out always remind me of a middle schooler. He refuses to take any accountability. HE edited the video. HE kept the clip in. HE posted the full clip on their instagram. NICK STURNIOLO DID THAT. HE DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT.

Can’t wait for reacting to hate comments part 2!!! Because, let’s face it! This isn’t hate, it’s the truth. I’m not an enabler and apparently that makes me a hater.

And yes, they over-do the drama for our entertainment, but they’re so much more entertaining when they’re all getting along?! Even if they have an argument, it’s far more entertaining when they aren’t hitting and kicking and punching. I genuinely think their emphasis on the physical aspects of their videos came straight from the tea party video, because it’s just gotten worse and worse since then.

I haven’t watched them in months and decided to watch that video and it was a clear reminder as to why i don’t watch them anymore. This is not a hate post, i will always be grateful for their videos because they’ve gotten me through some of the darkest moments of my life. From abusive relationships, to losing a loved one to suicide, to the loss of a childhood pet, to losing my job, to trying to take my own life…I am beyond grateful for their videos and I always will be. That being said, i think they have some serious maturing and reflecting to do if they want to continue to grow at the speed they were growing at a year or two ago.

Yes i think Matt is a sweet guy. No i don’t think he meant anything serious by hitting nick. The point is that it does make some of us uncomfortable to see that behavior from a grown man because so many of us have experienced abuse. I’m not saying we’re weak or snowflakes for our responses either. Posting your outbursts on the internet for 6-7 million people to see is a choice, and you cannot expect it to come without consequences.

[elodieunderglass]

Extra children have been dispatched effectively. Still a wine take but I grabbed some links for context.

It was, I believe, initially a USA government education initiative that instructed Americans to rinse chicken meat under cold running water before preparing it to remove the dirt and bacteria introduced by food processing. this is quite old fashioned advice. and the us government has since issued the opposite instructions, stating that rinsing chicken before cooking spreads the germs around. But of course it’s waaaay more nuanced than that, so… below the cut !

My mother is part of the American generation that firmly believes that you should wash chicken. This was TAUGHT to people. It may be because they killed their own chickens; but I believe it was some kind of widespread advice or public health education initiative.

It’s important to be mindful about criticising this practice uncritically ; today, the practice of washing chicken is commonly practiced by marginalised people in the USA. If you google “why Americans wash chicken” you’ll find a lot of threads about “why don’t white Americans wash their chicken”. Reasons for washing chicken can range from religious practice to cultural backgrounds to recent generations slaughtering their own meat; there are lots of articles about this, but here is one stating that as many as 7 in 10 Americans still wash chicken meat: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/culture/article/wash-raw-chicken-meat

There is (reasonable) opposition today in marginalised communities against taking the new state advice; partly because, as the article states, it conflicts with the genuine reasons behind existing washing practices, but also largely because the usa government is no longer a trustworthy authority in public health matters. When that trust collapses as much as it has, we shouldn’t blame citizens for following their long-held household practices instead, or for retaining the reasons behind them.

This 2022 article, which is in favour of washing meat, notes that in the late 1970s, cookbooks advised Americans to do so. https://maisonneuve.org/article/2022/09/23/rinse-and-repeat/

this also provides context such as:

 As the Black diaspora carried on washing meat, it became clear that anti-cleaning meat discourse was scolding us in order to affirm white standards of hygiene and cleanliness. People from cultures that wash their meat for religious purposes, such as the Jewish community when cultivating kosher meat, didn’t receive the same critical attention from food safety researchers as those who do it for cultural purposes, like Black, Asian and Latine communities.

(This isn’t a practice of all BIPOC Americans of course, it’s just to give a flavour of the discourse around the topic in the usa; specifically, state campaigns about “spreading germs” being alienating to existing cultural cooking practices, and so on.)

Anyway not my problem, moving over the atlantic - the worrying thing that Europeans and British people obsess over constantly is WHY Americans have this whole ritual/opposition to the ritual to begin with.

Americans were advised to stop washing chicken in the home because Americans started chlorinating the chicken in the processing plant - today, the meat is quickly dipped in a regulated bleach bath to kill the germs, and the USA government would prefer that you just cook it quickly after this, and not fuck around with it further. Bleach bath. Solved it. Don’t fuck around. That’s where the anti-washing campaign came from; evidence that it spreads germs that would have been destroyed anyway if you’d just left it alone.

Whereas Europeans and British people do NOT have bleach-washed chicken, they just have - as they will tell you at excruciating European length - clean well-regulated meat with sensible welfare, decent handling standards and reasonable processing protocols. In the Uk, the meat won’t have salmonella in it because British chickens are vaccinated and never had salmonella to begin with, it won’t have e.coli because animal shit rarely touches the raw meat, and so on. Whereas in the USA you must assume that the chicken definitely had salmonella, and the meat definitely touched poo! but don’t worry, the bleach bath and cooking process will take care of both 🤷 which is completely true if kinda unsavoury.

There isn’t any real evidence about chlorinated chicken being especially bad for you, or it being any worse than the salad leaves which get washed similarly in sanitising agent, even in the EU.

To me, it’s more unsettling because it’s a band-aid over terrible welfare. Why not just have better standards, more vaccines and better practices? But it’s not like it’s, in itself, toxic.

But “chlorinated chicken” is such an evocative mental image, isn’t it! Since I was around during Brexit, I had to tolerate SO MANY wet British liberal types wringing their hands about how post-Brexit food standard collapse would mean that British food would include filthy degraded chlorinated chicken. British liberal crunchy types cannot stop saying the phrase “chlorinated chicken” while also incidentally implying that anyone who eats such contaminated degraded food is also degraded.

So yeah! All very interesting but VERY hard to have a normal conversation about this on the internet, where everyone is bringing a different experience and their own reasons for it, while feeling visceral concern for doing it in other ways.

Personally I think it’s more interesting than explaining that “baked beans” actually means two different recipes in the USA and UK and are not the same dish, but also, a big difficulty is that meat is a lot less funny than beans! And, you know, people gotta make the exact same 4 jokes instead of learning something I guess

Elodie thank you so much for your US-UK translation research but I have to ask WHAT do you mean fried eggs are cooked differently? How many ways are there to fry an egg?

Reference here: https://www.tumblr.com/elodieunderglass/771840932030054400/i-cant-let-you-guys-continue-this-conversation

Yep, I can explain this easily

In the USA, fried eggs are cooked in butter and flipped. If you don’t flip, it’s called “sunny side up.” There is much talk of cooking them slowly. There is a belief, unfounded by any evidence, that there is a way to make sunny side up eggs that have FULLY cooked white and a runny yolk (I don’t think I have ever actually witnessed this, UsAmerican sunny side up usually has some amount of snotty white that you’re just expected to live with, or the yolk is not runny. Sometimes people overcome this by putting a lid over it, creating a steamed fried egg.) for the flipped ones, they are flipped once by spatula and left alone.

In the UK, you start with a pan that has a reasonable volume of hot oil, into which you crack the egg. The idea is cooking it quickly. When the egg has formed its round shape, the pan is tipped and hot oil collected with a spoon. The hot oil is spooned briskly over the whites a few times, cooking them solidly. The yolk may be covered or let alone entirely. People are not offered options in restaurants, this is simply how you fry egg.

The uk fried egg often has a lacy brown crispy edge. They are often thicker. The white has more of a cuttable, solid texture. There is less of the golden-cooked underside that I like though.

Another key difference is that UK eggs are usually stored at room temperature (chickens are vaccinated for salmonella) while USA eggs must be refrigerated (salmonella is considered an unavoidable natural ingredient that can’t possibly be regulated.) This has some impact on their texture and most serious egg people suggest cooking eggs from room temperature. Eggs can also be fresher in the UK. old eggs often wander about a little when cooked , while a very fresh egg stays round.

So the typical uk fried egg is compact, with more white to slice, while a USA fried egg is more thin. (I actually like a thin fried egg more, so USA wins there.)

I don’t have a preference myself. Each has pros and cons. But they are fried differently

[ameliathornromance]

Tw: Reader feels ashamed about her body and about stretch marks (this post is really self indulgent) but Orc Bf is a chad who tells her off about putting herself down!!!

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Standing in front of it, only in your undergarments, you narrowed your eyes at the jagged red marks that stretched at the top of your thighs.

They’re disgusting you think, revolting. Placing your hands on top of them, you try to picture your body without them. Smooth like glazed clay.

In your minds eye, you look so much happier without them. You imagined yourself in shorts, rushing through a field, frolicking so freely.

An annoyed sigh escaped you when you removed your hands and found that your visualisation hadn’t done anything to make the marks magically vanish.

“What’s got you sighing like that?”

From the bed, your Orc Boyfriend looked up from his book upon hearing your irritated exhale.

“It’s these.” You jabbed a finger at the effected skin. “They’re so horrible to look at. They look like bruises.”

“You didn’t do anything to hurt yourself, did you?” Your boyfriend asked. You knew he was trying to be helpful, offer some alternative explanation to them. But his question still irked you.

“Why on earth would I do something to make these?” You snapped. Seeing his shocked reflection in the mirror, you apologised. “Sorry… It’s just… I know no one else will see them much or even comment on them, but they make me feel so ugly. They’re only stretch marks, but…” You trailed off.

After a moment, your Orc snapped the book in his hands shut and swung his legs off the side of the bed. “Come over here.” He said, beckoning you over.

Frowning, you walked to the bed and stood in front of your Boyfriend. Taking your hands in his, he locked eyes with you. “You’re not ugly. I know it feels like it, but you’re not.”

You pursed your lips, “I just wish they’d go away. I don’t even know how they got there.”

“And sometimes you don’t and that’s okay, so don’t be harsh on your body for it.” He squeezed your hands tightly. “Bodies are weird and strange and they do things that sometimes we don’t understand. They change all the time and that’s normal.”

Running a thumb across the back of your hand, he continued. “Even though you have those scars, you are still beautiful. You don’t think I’m any uglier because of my scars do you?” He pointed to the jagged moss green slashes that sliced up the front of his chest, blotches of scar tissue from arrows that had been lodged into his muscle along with an array of other cuts that have their own gruesome stories to accompany them.

Your jaw dropped, eyebrows shooting up in horror. “No! Gosh no, I wasn’t trying to imply that-”

Your boyfriend chuckled and pulled you into a hug. “I know, I know. That wasn’t a good joke, sorry.” He looked up at you, “but you get the point, right?”

Nodding, your cheeks reddened. “But my scars aren’t the same as yours, they’re not-”

“I won’t let you put yourself down anymore. Stop it.” Your Orc said firmly. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe it yourself: you’re beautiful as you are. Say it back to me.”

You spluttered, before sighing. You repeated the words back, “… I’m beautiful as I am.”

A smile graced your boyfriends lips. “That’s my love.”

The heat in your cheeks rising again, you mumbled. “You’re beautiful too.”

Your Orc laughed as you wrapped your arms around his head and held him close to your chest. “Thank you love.”

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

A/N: There's no longer a 7 day free trial enabled on Patreon, those who have already signed up however, will still finish out their trial.

Also PT2 of The Other Woman will hopefully be out next Friday :)

Taglist <3

@sunndust @greenie-c

[beyfantasy]

Haiou Everyone!

🎇 !! Merry Christmas, and Happy 2025 !! 🎇

Vagabond Yuriy is festive!

Thank you for the support for the Beyfantasy m(_ _)m It also helped feed the rescue cats my family is taking care of. I appreciate it all!

I apologize for the pace on the character designs. Kyoujuu should be next, and I have drafted a bit of the Blitzkrieg Boys. I just need a good space to focus to finalize the designs, but I am also responsible for so many things irl so it's a bit difficult to prioritize my passion projects these days. Still, the project goes on!! '-'7 Making a few announcements regarding the Beyfantasy Merch! The standees from last batch are about to be finished this month. I will update you guys through e-mail when they're ready to ship!

⭐The Beyfantasy Charms will have a rerun! ⭐

Pre-Orders will be through my GANK. I understand a lot of you guys are saving up, and probably have more than one character you wanted to grab! The next rerun will be a longer window then- I'll try to have it open for 2 months. I aim to open around February 2025!

To prepare, I will do a quick review on how to check out in GANK- which should allow payments through paypal, card, etc. Purchasing the Standees in GANK requires you to sign up/be a member, and will be a “DOUBLE CHECKOUT” process: 1st Checkout Purchase = for your Standee/s 2nd Checkout Purchase = Shipping*

*The 2nd checkout will lead you to a google form for Shipping Info and Characters! Please remember the receipt for your first check out as well to fill in the form!

⭐ For now, please sign up in GANK and follow my page! I will reiterate detailed step by step instructions when Pre-Orders are up! ⭐

In addition, if there is anyone interested in a Rerun of the ALL STARZ and MAJESTICS standees, do let me know in the replies! For your reference, here are the prices (Listing is still Inactive at the moment, but this is a screenie of my view in GANK!)

⭐ The Beyfantasy Standees will have a new manufacturer from now on (for better speed and quality) ⭐

We try to keep everything as close as possible to the first releases but because of this, there might be some differences with the first releases of the Beyfantasy Standees such as the acrylic cut, the base insertion cut (it is now thicker/wider to make it more stable), and a very slight color print difference. 

What we are particular about is the relative heights of the characters so we are making sure the design print SIZE stays exactly the same as before (ex. Ralf, Giancarlo, Olivier and Johhny's heights are proportional as intended! So you will not see Olivier taller than Johnny for example etc.) The standee that has the MOST change is KNIGHT Johnny. You can see the difference in the cutline below. (Left is NEW)

Hoping for your understanding m(_ _)m

Thank you again everyone! I miss you guys so much, and I miss working on the Beyfantasy. As busy as I am, the project still stays in my head rent-free hahaha! Why can't I beam the visions into the canvaaaaaaaaaaaaassss!??!?! But yes, do let me know if you were interested in a rerun of the ALL STARZ and MAJESTICS Standees! And I'll try to have them up with the B-Charms rerun!

⭐LET IT RIP !!!⭐

[kikyoupdates]

Bloodthirst ⭑˚💋⭑ 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒

bnha x vampire!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, my vampire!reader, slowburn

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

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“Only a bit more. My house is that one, just up ahead.”  

Izuku smiled awkwardly, eventually stopping in front of the house he’d been pointing to. So, this was where he lived. And for the time being, it was also going to be where you lived.

It was certainly much smaller than you were used to, that was for sure. Then again, you’d grown up in a literal castle, which wasn’t the norm. And it wasn’t like you could afford to be picky. Izuku had already saved your life once and even offered you refuge. The debt you owed him was nothing short of massive. 

You walked up to the front door, but Izuku hastily pulled you back by the arm. “W-Wait!” he spluttered. “I just, um... I-I need a few moments. To prepare myself...”  

“For what?” you asked, giving him a quizzical look.  

“Well...” He glanced around, looking everywhere but in your eyes. “I’ve never had a g-girl over before. It’s just me and my mom, so I’m sure she might have some questions. Actually, I don’t bring anyone over, not just girls. I don’t really have any friends...”  

Your jaw dropped open. How could that possibly be? He was the sweetest person you’d ever met. There was no way someone wouldn’t want to be his friend.

“Are you joking?” you frowned.  

Izuku shrunk in on himself. “I-I really wish I was.”  

“Gosh!” you fumed, squaring your hands on your hips. “What’s the matter with this world? You deserve tens of friends—no, hundreds of them! Clearly, the people who’ve met you must be a bunch of idiots.”

“T-There’s no need to go that far,” he protested. “It’s probably because I’m so plain and boring. I don’t blame them for not wanting to talk to me. The only thing I can really work up the nerve to bring is up heroes, and then I start rambling, and everyone gets annoyed because I won’t shut up...”  

“Stupid idiots. They’re not even giving you a chance.”

Izuku let out a nervous chuckle, then cleared his throat. “Well... that’s beside the point. Anyways, I guess we can’t stall for much longer. Are you ready? D-Don't be nervous. My mom is really nice to everyone, and you’re nice too, so I’m sure you’ll get along.” 

“Okay!” you beamed. “I’m ready.”  

After a brief pause, Izuku used his key to unlock the door, then opened it up. “Come in,” he said shyly, stepping aside to give you room.  

You glanced around. It was a cute, homely place. Again, very much different from what you were used to, but it wasn’t stuffy like the castle you’d grown up in. Even though you were nothing more than a stranger here, somehow, it felt comfortable. Warm.  

“Your home is beautiful,” you smiled.  

Izuku blushed. “M-My mom does her best to keep things looking nice. Actually, I should help out with the chores more often. I feel bad that she does so much of the work herself.”  

Speaking of, you could hear some movement coming from further inside. There was also a fragrant aroma wafting through the air. It smelled like someone was cooking.  

“Izuku?” came the gentle, feminine voice. “Are you home?”  

Hardly five seconds later, a kind-looking woman turned the corner and greeted you in the hallway. She was pretty much a carbon copy of Izuku, with her big green eyes and dark green hair, which was pulled into a half-up style. Her smile was friendly too, just like Izuku’s. The only thing she was missing was the sprinkling of freckles that dusted the boy’s cheeks.  

You could tell that Izuku hadn’t been lying to you. She certainly gave off the impression of being gentle and welcoming, and this was just from looking at her. She smelled sweet as well, just like Izuku did. At first, she was smiling, probably eager to greet her son, but that smile faded a bit when her gaze fell onto you.  

And then her eyes widened.  

“W-Who is this?” she blinked repeatedly. 

Izuku parted his lips to answer, but you were quicker on the uptake. “I’m [Name], Izuku’s friend!” you grinned. “It’s very nice to meet you!”

“Oh my!” Her eyes somehow went even wider, and then her smile was back, much brighter than before. “It’s been so long since you’ve had a friend over, Izuku! The last time must have been back when you and Katsuki were still kids!”  

“Mom, please,” Izuku groaned.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m Midoriya Inko,” she introduced, even bowing a bit. “It’s lovely to have you here, [Name]. I’m just making some food right now. It should be ready soon if you’d like to have some. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?”  

“She’s fine, mom,” Izuku sighed. He was red as a beet again. You’d quickly come to the conclusion that it wasn’t very difficult to make him blush, which you found awfully endearing.  

Inko kept on smiling happily. “Okay! Then, I’ll leave you two be.”  

That was what she said, but right before she turned to head back to the kitchen, her gaze shifted slightly, and she finally seemed to take note of the injury on your shoulder.  

“[N-Name]!” she gasped, rushing towards you right away. “You’re hurt! Oh no... how long ago did this happen? Izuku! Help me get out the first aid, quick!”  

Oh. Right.  

To be honest, you’d totally forgotten about that. After drinking Izuku’s blood, all of your strength had returned. You could hardly even feel the gash you’d acquired earlier. It was probably already healing up, anyways.  

“This is no big deal,” you reassured, smiling for good measure. “I fell a little while ago and got kind of scraped up. It looks worse than it is, I promise.” 

“Still! You need to clean the wound and bandage it up so it doesn’t get infected!”  

“That’s okay. I can do it myself. But I appreciate the concern.”  

Clearly, worrying seemed to run in the family. She was just as frantic as Izuku had been when he’d first noticed you were hurt. Thankfully, Izuku stepped in before his mom could work herself up into a full-blown panic attack.  

“I’ll help [Name] treat her injury,” he insisted. “But, um... there was actually something I wanted to ask you, mom. Would it be okay... if she stayed with us for a little while?”  

“Stayed with us?” Inko blinked. “As in...”  

“Like, overnight and stuff. For a few days. Maybe? Please?”  

Inko’s initial excitement was steadily turning to horror. You supposed that as a parent, having your kid suddenly bring over a complete stranger and ask to welcome your home up to them was a lot to take in. 

She leaned closer to Izuku and lowered her voice, although you could still hear her. Your senses were a lot sharper than a human’s, after all. 

“I-Izuku. Is she... your girlfriend or something? I didn’t even know you had one...”  

“Girlfriend?!” Izuku squeaked, looking just about ready to pass out. “N-No! It’s nothing like that! She just needs a place to stay for a little while, so I’d like to do her a favor, that’s all!”  

“My parents kicked me out of the house,” you added—perhaps a bit too chipperly, at that.  

Inko looked even more horrified now. “What?! But... you’re so young! That’s so irresponsible of them! They can’t leave a child all on her own! Police... I need to call the police! This is obvious neglect!”  

Calling the police wouldn’t fix your problems. If anything, it would only cause more of them, especially once they found out that you had no background information whatsoever. Drawing that much suspicion wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.  

“Mom, please don’t do that!” Izuku pleaded. “[Name] has a complicated relationship with her parents. L-Let's just try to be understanding... okay? You’re an adult, so she’ll be fine as long as you’re here to supervise her. Right? She’ll be safe here. Please?” 

Inko was nibbling on her bottom lip. “I suppose everyone has different family dynamics... but still. I can’t help but be worried.” She glanced over at you, brows creasing. “[Name], honey, are you safe? You didn’t get that injury from your parents... did you?” 

She was suspecting abuse, which was fair enough. It was a valid concern.  

“No, this was seriously an accident,” you reassured. “My parents don’t hit me.” You remembered the way your mother had slapped you across the face, but that was done in order to prevent you from quite literally killing someone, so you figured it was an exception.  

“[Name] has a lot going on already,” Izuku said, making puppy eyes and everything. “Her family just needs a bit of time to calm down. I want to help her.”

“Well... alright,” Inko eventually sighed out.  

Hooray! 

“Izuku was right,” you beamed. “You are super nice. Thank you so much for opening up your home to me. I promise to repay you somehow. I can’t even express how appreciative I am.”  

Inko chuckled softly. “I’m more than happy to help. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. But you seem like an honest, well-spoken girl, and it’s the first time in a long while Izuku has been so close to someone. Just promise you’ll tell me if your parents are crossing the line. Your wellbeing should always come first, okay?”  

Your parents had already more than crossed the line, what with banishing you to a different world altogether, but for now, she was probably better off not knowing that. Perhaps eventually, you’d reveal your secret to her as well. You couldn’t be certain that she’d believe you the way Izuku did, but you were choosing to remain optimistic.  

“Thanks so much, mom.” Izuku smiled, then wrapped his mother in a hug. He pulled away quickly enough, looking back at you sheepishly. “Right... the first aid kit. I’m just going to go help [Name] clean out her cut, alright? We’ll come back later once the food is ready.”  

“Alright, sweetie. You two have fun.” Inko paused once last time to look you over. “But... if you’re going to be staying the night, don’t you have a bag with some belongings and pajamas? It doesn’t look like you’ve brought anything.”  

“My parents kicked me out before I could collect my things,” you replied.  

The poor thing looked she was about to cry. You’d probably stressed her out so much she was on the verge of collapsing.  

“I-I’ll find some old clothes of mine for you to wear, from back when I was younger,” she said tiredly.  

“That sounds great!”

Having officially received approval to stay here for a little while, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. Izuku seemed quite giddy about the fact as well, if his broad smile was any indication. He quickly rummaged through one of the cabinets, pulled out a little box, which you assumed was the first aid kit, then pointed you down the hall.  

“My room’s that way,” he said. “Ah, but—!”  

Too late. You’d entered the room before he had a chance to finish his train of thought, and... it was certainly much more impactful than you’d been expecting. It was completely decked out, with posters and what appeared to be countless figurines as far as the eye could see. The colors were rather vibrant, you noted, and if you weren’t mistaken, almost all of the items had the same theme.  

“Who’s this guy?” you asked, picking up one of the figurines to get a closer look.  

“C-Careful!” Izuku yelped. He was practically pulling at his hair while you held the figurine, and sweating bullets, to boot.  

You carefully set the figurine down and chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have just gone around touching things without asking. It seems like this stuff is important to you. But I keep seeing this same guy everywhere I look. Who is he?”  

“Oh,” Izuku blinked. “Right. You’re not from here, so you wouldn’t know. That’s All Might. He’s the Number One hero, and I’m pretty much his biggest fan. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud... but he’s kind of my role model. I want to be just like him when I grow up.”  

“He’s one of those heroes you mentioned before?”  

“Yeah! He’s the strongest hero in the whole world!”  

Izuku’s exuberant smile was back. This topic certainly seemed to make him excited, although you supposed the concept of heroes was pretty cool. You didn’t really have anything like that back home. A bunch of different intelligent species, sure, but you’d never once come across someone with that sort of title.  

“So, heroes are people that save others, right?” you clarified.  

“Mhm!” Izuku nodded. “They put their lives on the line to fight off villains or rescue people from natural disasters. They’re just incredible! Since I was little, I always knew I wanted to become one of them, no matter what. But...”  

Suddenly, his expression dropped. 

“It’s going to be harder for me than for most people,” he begrudgingly admitted. “Because I don’t have a Quirk.”  

You frowned. “What’s a Quirk?”  

“They’re like powers,” he explained. “Humans didn’t used to have special powers before, but at some point, a mutation allowed us to change and develop over time. Now that several generations have passed, it’s rarer to not have a Quirk then it is to have one. The reason heroes are so strong and cool is because they have all sorts of different powers. But me... I’m just Quirkless. It makes me weaker than most, so I know it’ll be a challenge if I want to turn my dream into reality.”  

Interesting. The more you found out about this world, the more intrigued you were.  

“The humans here appear to be stronger than the ones in my world,” you hummed. “That explains why that criminal—er, villain I ran into was able to actually hurt me. His nails transformed into knives right in front of my eyes. That must’ve been his power. His Quirk. Right?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. There are all kinds of Quirks out there. Some of them allow you to change your body briefly, like how that guy did. Some of them allow you to create things out of nothing or even shoot lasers and stuff. And some of them permanently alter the way you look, and you can’t turn them off even if you want to.”  

Ah. That explains why so many of the people I saw didn’t look like, well...  people . 

“Put simply, they’re amazing,” Izuku chuckled, looking more dejected by the second. “I really wish I had one. It would make everything so much easier...”

“Maybe you’ll get yours one day,” you encouraged. 

“Ah... it doesn’t really work that way. By the age of four, your Quirk has to have manifested, and there are no exceptions. I know this because my mom and I even consulted a doctor back when I was a kid. He told me there was no hope.”  

His head drooped after that last comment, which had your heart clenching uncomfortably. What awful luck. He wanted to be a hero, and you could clearly tell that he was passionate about saving people after everything he’d done for you, but fate had been cruel to him.  

Back where you were from, strength varied quite significantly depending on the species. Vampires were notoriously strong—one of the very strongest, as a matter of fact. Oftentimes, this strength came in handy, since it could be used to settle disputes over land or end wars. Thankfully, you hadn’t lived through any wars in your lifetime, but you’d heard from your grandparents that things used to be quite rough a while back. Strength was a means to an end, and it made countless things easier to obtain.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be the case here as well.  

A bit hesitant, you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you need a Quirk to become a hero?”  

Izuku seemed taken aback by your question. You hoped you hadn’t come across as insensitive. It was just that he was yearning to be a hero so bad, you couldn’t help but wish there was some way that he actually could.  

“Technically... no,” Izuku breathed, a wobbly smile rising to his lips. “And even though I’m sure my case is unusual, I don’t plan on giving up. I’m going to become a hero, no matter what it takes. I’ll work as hard as I have to.”  

You clapped your hands. “Wow! That’s so admirable! You’re super cool, Izuku! That’s right. There’s no reason to give up before you’ve even tried, right?”  

“Y-Yeah. I feel the same way. Thank you for being so supportive.” He blushed a bit, then cleared his throat. “Um... anyways. W-We should clean up your wound now that we have a chance. My mom’s right. It’d be bad if it got infected.”  

“Oh, there’s really no need for that.”  

“We have to! I wouldn’t want you to start feeling unwell again,” he added, looking concerned.  

It was hard to say no to that face.  

“Well... alright,” you shrugged. You didn’t even bother being gracious about it; you grabbed onto the fabric of your dress sleeve and fully ripped it apart, exposing the bloody gash on your shoulder.  

Izuku flinched before opening up the first aid kit. “Yikes. T-That looks like it hurts a lot. How have you been coping with something like that?”  

“Honestly, I can hardly even feel it anymore,” you admitted. “After I drank your blood, I went right back to normal.”  

“But still. Hold on a second. I’m going to wipe the cut down, then maybe disinfect it a bit.”  

He used a bit of water to wet a cloth, then gave you a reassuring smile before carefully patting your injury to soak up the blood. You didn’t wince a single time, because you really didn’t feel any lingering pain. His blood had done a great job of fixing you up.

Izuku’s amazing, in more ways than one. Normally I have to consume a lot more blood to recover as quickly as I did. We might just be especially compatible.  

Clearly, running into him had been no mere stroke of luck. There must have been some higher power guiding you. Fate, or something like that.  

“Huh?”

Amidst your daydreaming, Izuku let out a confused gasp, so you turned towards him with a frown. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Sorry. It’s probably a bit gross having to clean my wound up. We’re pretty much strangers, after all.”  

“N-No, it’s not that. It’s just...” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t... see a cut. There was all that blood, but it doesn’t look like there’s a cut anywhere to be found.”

“Oh.” 

“That’s all you’re going to say?!”  

You laughed. “Like I said, there was really no need to bother with any of this. I heal quick. Vampires have much stronger constitutions than humans. We’re stronger physically, we have sharper senses, and we heal faster too. Though it looks like I healed up perfectly even faster than I was expecting. It must be because your blood is so amazing, Izuku!”  

“I-Incredible,” was all he could manage to say in return. You supposed from his standpoint, it was pretty awesome. You hated to admit it, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit smug as you proudly stuck up your nose towards the ceiling.  

“Even for a vampire, I’m really strong,” you said boastfully. “I’m the strongest out of my entire family. My parents told me I’m even stronger than they were at my age.” 

Now, if only I could get my blood-drinking habits under control... 

“So cool,” Izuku marveled. “It’s not a Quirk... but if it was, it would definitely be one of the strongest ones out there. [Name], you’re just awesome. It kind of makes me feel even more lame by comparison... haha.” 

“Don’t say that,” you chided. “I would’ve been a goner if not for you. And like I said earlier, you were so brave, just letting me suck your blood without question. You’re awesome too, Izuku. You’re probably even more awesome than I am.”  

“You’re exaggerating,” he said sheepishly, but his awkward smile told you he was happy to be receiving your praise.  

You crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms. “Well, I’m expected to be strong. My power is the whole reason my parents were considering naming me their heir, even though I’m not the oldest of my siblings. But after how bad I screwed up, that’s definitely not going to be happening anymore...”  

“Heir?” Izuku blinked. “Were you supposed to inherit their company or something?”  

“No, their throne.” 

Izuku went dead silent for a while.  

“...their what?” he eventually gaped.  

“Oh. Didn’t I mention this already? My parents are the king and queen of our land. I’m technically a princess by blood.”  

“P-Princess?!” he practically exploded, leaping halfway across the room. His big eyes proceeded to scour his surroundings, and his palms flew up to his face in horror. “Oh my god! I brought you back to my modest house without even knowing that! This place must look like a dumpster compared to what you’re used to! W-What do I even call you? Your Highness? Princess [Name]?!” 

“Just [Name] is fine,” you mused. “Your reaction is so funny. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same person. Besides, I was kicked out by my family, so I probably shouldn’t even call myself royalty anymore. It’s just how I was raised, that’s all.”  

Izuku let out a heavy sigh. “Just when I thought I’d heard it all, you find new ways to surprise me...”  

“Haha. Sorry about that.” 

“No, I’m probably just being overdramatic. Anyways, um...” He seemed to be averting your gaze for some reason, and once again, his cheeks were flushed bright red. You noticed his eyes occasionally wandering towards your arm and shoulder, both of which were completely bare. “I-I should’ve brought you a change of clothes first before trying to clean your wound. You’ll get cold like that. Let me go talk to my mom real quick, and we’ll see what she has for you to wear. And maybe tomorrow, we can go shopping for some new clothes?”  

“Okay!” you chirped. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”  

“It’s no problem,” he smiled back, hastily exiting the room.  

Once you were left alone, you stood up and began pacing around again, just taking everything in. Then, you spotted it. One of those handheld devices that everyone had been walking around with earlier—the one that lit up and had tiny little people trapped inside of it.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” you huffed, leaning closer to get a better look. The screen was completely blank, for some reason. Was this one broken? But what use would a broken device be? You knew you shouldn’t go poking around Izuku’s things again, so for the time being, you just kept on staring at it, very much on guard.  

Out of nowhere, the device started vibrating, and you nearly crapped yourself from the fright.  

“Holy fuck!”

Needless to say, Izuku came running back into the room a second later. “[Name]!” he cried out. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”  

“Y-Your device,” you pointed, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I think it might be possessed.”  

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Um. You mean my cellphone?”  

“I’ve never heard that term before. What does it mean?”  

“Oh boy,” he sighed. “It seems like I’ve got a lot more to explain...”  

Yesterday had been a lot of fun. Well, glossing over the fact that you’d been abandoned by your family and whatnot.  

Still, you were extremely thankful to have met Izuku. You had a good feeling about him. At the risk of sounding a bit full of yourself, it felt like you belonged by his side. Last night, Inko had given you some clothes to lounge around in as a temporary measure. You’d eaten dinner together, and you didn’t miss the way Izuku had been looking at you in bewilderment from across the table. You’d later explained that just because you needed to consume blood didn’t mean that you didn’t consume other food as well. 

You’d slept in the guest room, although you’d initially been quite giddy about sharing a room with Izuku. But he nearly exploded when you suggested doing such a thing, so for the sake of his poor heart, you decided it was best to sleep apart.  

And now, it was the next day. Izuku had apparently been in his school uniform when you’d encountered him, but he was off from classes today, which gave him time to take you shopping. You were excited to see more of this world and all the novelties it had to offer.

Currently, you were heading towards what Izuku had called a ‘shopping district’.  

“There are all sorts of stores there,” he explained. “Hopefully you’ll be able to find some clothes you like. My mom’s stuff is okay, but it’s not super stylish... and I’m sure you’d like to pick out something that fits you better.”  

It was true. Inko’s old clothes were comfortable, but they certainly weren’t a perfect fit for your body.  

Besides, shopping with Izuku sounded fun. From what else he’d told you, there were places to try out different kinds of food too, and plenty of other things to do as recreation. Given the life you’d lived, nearly all of your clothing had come as a result of fittings and were tailor-made. They were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but you couldn’t say you had much experience picking them out for yourself, since your servants and family were usually involved in the whole process.  

All of this was so new to you. Hey, maybe being banished wasn’t such a bad thing after all. You were trying to look on the bright side.  

“Shopping mall, shopping mall,” you hummed happily, practically skipping as you made your way towards the destination.  

Regretfully, you never actually made it to the shopping mall.  

“Huh? Is that shitty Deku I see? What the... he’s got a chick with him.”  

The source of the remark was a teenage boy with spiky ash blonde hair, narrowed crimson eyes, and a husky voice. There were two other guys with him, and they were snickering for some reason.  

“Deku?” you frowned. “No, you got his name wrong. It’s actually Izuku.”  

“[N-Name]!” Izuku hissed into your ear. He was even jabbing his elbow into your ribs, having broken out into a cold sweat. “That’s his nickname for me! Don’t question it, let’s just go!”  

“Nickname? Oh, so you must be friends! Hello, Izuku’s friend,” you beamed, waving towards the blonde guy.  

It wasn’t until after you’d already said the words that you remembered what Izuku had mentioned before, about not having any friends. 

You realized this as you watched the blonde guy’s expression turn to rage.  

“Friends?” he glowered. “Did you just call me and that piece of shit friends? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  

“Oh. I guess I was wrong,” you blinked. Izuku had stopped jabbing you in the ribs, but it was only because he’d gone completely stiff. You were starting to put two and two together.

Izuku didn’t like this guy. This guy was bad news.  

“Hey, Deku,” blondie grimaced. “Who is this bitch? Don’t tell me you actually nabbed yourself a girlfriend. Nah, there’s no way. What lies did you tell her to somehow convince her into hanging out with your sorry ass?”  

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku swallowed, taking several steps back. He motioned for you to do the same, but now it was your turn to go still. And it was for a different reason entirely. 

Your gaze turned icy. “Why do you keep speaking about Izuku that way? It’s a crappy thing to do, so please stop it. He’s a really nice guy. Take it back.”

The boy—Kacchan, or whatever his name was—seemed to be getting angrier by the second.  

“Ha,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Would you look at that? This bitch actually has a backbone. Okay, then. Try me. I’ll kick your ass,” he seethed, already cracking his knuckles for good measure.  

“Not unless I kick yours first,” you answered sweetly.

“The fuck did you just—”  

Before he could even process what was happening, you had already rushed towards him and landed a punch square to his jaw. It knocked him back, most likely because he’d been unprepared, but not all the way to the ground, even though you were quite confident that you’d used enough force.  

He then swiped a hand across his lip, eyes nothing short of murderous.  

“Alright. That’s it. You’re fucking dead.”

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[hyperpotamianarch]

I think if it was an action, it would be tanu d'vei [Ploni], as "the house of [Ploni]" is usually many people. Either that, or tana [Ploni]. Tana d'vei [Ploni] indicates one person in this Beit Midrash who acts as the Tana.

The "don't you trust the continued tradition in Eretz Yisra'el?" line should actually be an argument in universe, and then people in Exile talking about how they preserved the old pronunciation etcetera.

He Sanhedrin still existing is going to be a whole deal. The line of Nesi'im might stay for far longer than it had in our world, so you'll have the Kohen Gadol in the Temple alongside the Nesi' HaSanhedrin in Lishkat HaGazit, who will be from the House of Hillel and thus descended from King David, and who might be responsible for relation with the gentile rulers.

I wonder if that type of melody to learning will stay only for religious texts or will secular texts also have it?

Speaking of poetry... considering how late the tradition of Piyutim arose ("late" is relative, it was around 4400s to the Jewish account, about the 7th century CE), do you think religious poetry will be vastly different, maybe uniquely the domain of Levyim?

Will Yosef be Matityahu simply be a Jewish historial living in Judea? How this change came to pass? Am I questioning too much about the premise?

Just had a shower idea about an alternative history where the Second Beit HaMikdash is still around in modern times....

-The field of dermatology is dominated by Cohanim because they're the only ones who can diagnose tzara'at and they want to be as educated as possible

-Airlines that fly to Israel are built to have livestock storage for people bringing korbanot

-Pigeons never became feral en masse, at least in Israel and in areas with a high population density of Jews, because dove-keeping stayed extremely prevalent due to their use in korbanot

-Price caps were enacted on transportation to and from Israel during the pilgrimage seasons

-The astronomical observatories in Israel are considered sacred sites because of their usage in determining the months.

-The old method of fires on high points to announce the new month is still used in Israel and some nearby regions because of tradition, but once Jews became established further and further across the globe, a communication center was established in the Temple compound. At first, it used messenger pigeons, horseback runners, and ships. It was upgraded once the telegram was invented, then again when audio radios were invented, again when telephones were invented, again when television was invented, and again when the Internet was invented.