#will you also oversee this department??

[separatist-apologist]

All the therapists you supervise are so lucky to have you, and all your wisdom and awesomeness!

I genuinely hope they feel that way- I like to think I'm a good supervisor but who knows. Maybe they all get together on Fridays to talk about how much they hate me. I think I'd only cry a little about that

[morocosmos]

This was during the Producer Live Letter #73 which took place in early October 2022 :D link to Nova Crystallis's thread summary of the live letter here. (endwalker and post-endwalker spoilers, specifically patch 6.2 in the thread)

Btw in my quest for information i found out one of the new lead writers's name is daichi hiroi.

He wrote the bard quests and the magical ranged dps quests for shb and pandemonium i think the game's in good hand

[spicymancer]

"Sanction" kinda has equal-but-opposite meanings. I'm curious, did you name your setting sanction as in approve/allow, or sanction as in punish/penalty?

A little bit of both, unsurprisingly! Sanction is how I refer to my near-future Superhero setting (Where Quiver, The ActiRangers, and technically Rumble After Dark all take place), it's named for an in-universe federal mandate that establishes a lot of legal structures around superhumans and how and when they can use their powers.

There's an official registry of superhuman abilities and a federal department that oversees superhuman and nonhuman activity. Similar organizations exist internationally with differeing levels of restriction for things like genetic manipulation, alien technology, magic etc.

So yeah, there exist both Sanctions on the improper use of superpowers (punishment/penalty), as well as official Sanctions for certain individuals to use their powers for the betterment of society (official approval). This whole mess originated as the setting for an old Mutants and Masterminds TTRPG campaign I ran years and years ago, it eventually ended up being my mental storage zone for a bunch of my wacky OCs. The story/setting was originally inspired by The Initiative, a story arc that followed the original Marvel Comics: Civil War storyline. Though it also takes inspiration from similar societal structures in Invincible, One Punch Man, and My Hero Academia.

[thosewickedlovelies]

A guide to writing fics set in museums / with a museum worker character

Hey hi hello it’s your local museum worker here, offering you some insight and tips to writing museum-related fics! This is primarily organized as a list of different jobs you could have in a museum and what their duties entail. This post might also be useful to you if you’re considering working in museums and want to know What Goes On In There. Let’s go!

For simplicity/fic-writing purposes, I would divide museums into 2 very rough groups: large national or city museums that Have Money (think the Smithsonian or British Museums, or the Chicago Field Museum or the Royal Armouries Museum in Leeds); and smaller local museums. These could be local industry and culture/history-of-our town museums, historic houses, or  really niche subject museums run by One Person With A Passion.

Big national museums have a fuckton of staff and money (museums can never have enough money. But these places are very well-off compared to somewhere small that might always be hustling and writing grant applications). If you work here you’re likely to have a specific role in a particular department, and you probably won’t do much outside this role (ex., if you work in collections management, you probably won’t also design exhibits)

The smaller the museum, the more varied your workload will be/the more likely you are to be doing a little bit of everything. You’re probably organizing collections storage, manning the front desk, and desperately running fundraising efforts, all at once. 

To this end, smaller museums are more likely to be closed one or two days a week- you’ll be there, probably cleaning displays or managing storage, but visitors won’t be.

A lot of (most?) universities also have museums, so a college town setting is also doable. But the same big vs small museum disparity is still possible! At Penn State University, for example, the Palmer Art Museum is its own (recently redone iirc) building in the center of campus with a lovely plaza out front, while the Matson Museum of Anthropology is uhhhhh a couple classrooms in the Anthropology Department (which they’re currently rebuilding tbf, so we’ll see what they’ve done with it in 2025).

Types of Jobs

Curator

The one museum job that everyone can name. Nominally the person in charge. Probably laments that their job is way more admin than fun hands-on stuff now.

Actually this is the role I have the least knowledge of, but I think that’s partially because this job might vary the most from place to place? Structural organization can vary a lot between institutions, but I think the higher up you get in any field, the more your job tends to consist of meetings/overseeing, designating, and ~liaising~

A list of things a curator might do:

Planning or approving events and fundraisers, schmoozing with donors and members at said events, approving or designing a schedule of exhibits, publish outreach/advertising or research materials, oversee hiring, approve new object acquisitions (or de-acquisitions), generally make sure that the museum is working within the scope of its mission and if necessary, change or refine their mission

The curator might not necessarily control a museum’s funds; in this case they’ll liaise with the people who do, likely a Board of Executives or Board of Trustees. Once they get the money from these people, though, they could potentially redistribute it as they see fit.

 If you work in a fuckoff museum like the BM, you could also be the curator of a specific department, arranged by overarching subject, geographic area, time period, or even object type (eg Curator of Archaeobotany, Curator of Korean Collections, curator of coins from the medieval period). These categories can be more or less specific depending on what kind of holdings your museum has. I think these types of curators would still be able to do interesting things, as they aren’t the ones who Oversee The Whole Place.

You can also be an assistant or associate curator, like being an assistant manager.

Education/Engagement

These are the people who design fun extra activities (esp for kids) in the galleries or relevant events/workshops/lectures the public can attend. They might be called Engagement/Education Officer or Events Manager or anything similar

Again, the bigger the museum you work at, the more specific your role is likely to be. You might focus on web content/outreach and social media, manage the ‘friends/members of the museum’ program, or engage with shareholders, etc

Or you might do things like develop content and events to engage adult audiences. Workshops or lectures connected to new exhibits, after-hours visits. These people are also probably the ones with an eye on accessibility- you’ve probably seen advertisements for museums’ early or late hours for older visitors, or ‘quiet hours’ for people who might be overstimulated by normal museum hubbub, or tactile workshops designed for visually impaired folks.

I think most places would try to have someone specific for kids activities at the very least. They’ll be designing little activities or dress-up stations for the galleries, kiddie mascots or scavenger hunt trail kind of things, as well as, potentially, activities for any digital elements in the museum. They probably also coordinate school visits and act as a tour guide for classes, and will lead the kids in specific workshops or lessons in classrooms attached to the museum.

As a note on technology- some people would probably say that integrating digital elements into exhibits is the ~next big thing~, that museums have to get with the times in this regard, but opinions vary. Big science and technology museums are the most likely to have the most digital and techy elements in their exhibits, so if this is your setting, your character could also be a generic “tech person”. I would go so far as to say the smaller/more local the museum, the less technology you’re likely to have, but smaller museums are able to get grants, some of them potentially for specifically this type of thing, so it’s totally possibly that they have a few tablets with integrated activities, or some other Digital/Screen Thing.

Engagement Officers are probably the most likely people to be drafted for out-of-hours events, so that’s a potentially fun thing for your character to do. Some museums, particularly bigger ones, have event spaces attached that anybody can rent out, for weddings, galas, markets, etc, so they might also take care of these bookings as well.

Exhibit Design

This role has a lot of nebulous terms: exhibit coordinator, design constructor, exhibit programmer- but these are the people who design the exhibits. They’ll come up with a theme or narrative, a design scheme, choose the objects, write the text. They’ll probably come up with some marketing material as well, that matches the design scheme, or they’ll liaise with the marketing people who will.

These people might not be as familiar with the collections as the collections management folk (below), depending on how strictly divided your roles are, so they’ll likely consult with the collections people on choosing objects for a particular exhibit or theme (they say that good exhibit design builds an exhibit from the objects up, but I digress).

These people will also direct and participate in the install and deinstall (the actual terms) of exhibits- putting the objects on the right plinths/stands and arranging everything just so in the cases. Genuinely there’s a lot of psychology behind exhibit design- colors, lighting, the way you might design an exhibit to be navigated vs the path people will actually take through the gallery, people’s sight lines and where their eyes go first, how the display of any given object affects people’s perception of the importance of that object. Fascinating stuff, many books on the subject. 

There are also a lot of accessibility concerns to be considered here- how bright is the gallery, how large is your display text, at what height is the central eyeline of your cases?

Museums often loan objects to and from each other’s collections, so if you’re building an exhibit and you’d really like to include X type of object but your museum doesn’t have any, you can borrow some from another museum (this isn’t necessarily a guarantee- museums are allowed to say no to these requests, but I think manners would dictate that they should have a good reason)

Museums sometimes tour whole exhibitions as well- the objects, the text placards, maybe even the stands for super special or fragile items- and exhibit coordinator people are the ones who would handle those arrangements.

Potentially good opportunities for angst stories here- wow things come to life at your museum, you fall in love with a statue but oh no it’s only at your museum for three months

Collections Care

People who work in Collections Management have the most direct contact with the museum objects themselves. You probably work here if you prefer objects to people. When a museum gets new material, these are the people involved. They might not always initiate acquisitions, and the final approval is probably down to the relevant curator, but 98% of the time they’d be consulted (I hope).

A mind-boggling statistic is that most museums only have like 10% of their collections on display at any given time. Yeah. Forreal lol. But collections folk will know where the other 90% is and what’s in it (particularly the longer they’ve been there). 

There’s usually a head Collections Manager. Other workers might be a Collection Assistant/Associate, Collections Officer (we like calling people Officers for some reason), Registrar, or some variant of these depending on the specific flavor of your duties. 

Main job duties can be divided amongst documentation and database work, organization and storage of objects, and lite conservation. Just how much/how technical the conservation work depends on your own training, but also on the size/funding of your museum. The more money, the more likely your museum is to have its own lab with people specifically trained as conservators. More on them later. 

Here’s what happens when a museum gets new stuff!:

Ideally, it goes to a ‘quarantine zone’ first. This is a separate space or room where the objects can relax for a few weeks to a few months (ultimate best practice is actually a year, but, you know. that’s a long time) to ensure that they’re not harboring anything icky (bugs, mold, etc) that will infect the rest of the collections. It’s ideally super-sealed and climate-controlled, but the primary feature should be that it’s away from the main collections store.

Collections folk do the paperwork. They’ll give each individual object a unique number (following their preexisting system that will allow it to be identified distinct from all the other objects in the collection). They’ll create a ‘collections record’ for the object- documentation containing any and all information about the object. This includes the accession paperwork (everything that says ‘we legally own this now’); provenance info (all previous owners and everywhere else the object has been in its life); measurements and description (in painful detail); and conservation history and concerns (ie ‘there’s a crack in the side so pick up with care’, ‘this was repaired in the 70s so that glue is gonna fall apart any day now’).

(I'll say as a fic writer that this would be an great time to wax poetic over a beautiful statue or painting; you can’t write “This golden crown deserved to be worn by a great king, or maybe by that broody Roman general in the painting in Gallery B” in the collections paperwork, but you can think it.)

For fiction’s sake, your collections records could be either paper or digital, but in an ideal world a museum would have both setups, for security’s sake. So you’d fill out some long forms and/or input all the information to the digital collections management system (‘the CMS’, or referred to by your specific software’s name, as there are many out there). The CMS is not a static archive, but rather a living register that’s updated every time an object is interacted with. The object records also include where an object is at any given time (‘normally in Case E in the Fancypants Gallery, currently in Conservation Lab A for repairs’).

Once the objects are done in quarantine, they’ll go to storage. If they’re being displayed immediately, they’ll probably go to some interim storage space/shelf with other objects for the same exhibit and in that case only get a temporary setting. Every object will get labeled with their object number (directly on them, with a special pen that’s safe for this. Or if it’s really tiny, like a coin or jewelry, then their own tiny box will get the label). Small or fragile items, or items grouped together, will go in their own boxes (made of acid- and lignin-free cardboard or polyethylene plastic, like Rubbermaid totes; lined with polyethylene foam and then acid-free tissue paper). Stable ceramic vessels might sit directly on lined shelving, particularly if they’re very large or heavy, like many stone objects.

Listen, every type of object has a particular way(s) of storing that’s best for them, you’re gonna have to look that up yourself or consult someone if you need that level of detail

Ideally, before being stored away, objects are also photographed. This could be part of the Collection Officer’s duty, and/or your museum could have a photographer on staff. (say it with me:) This is more likely if your museum is really huge and/or has a backlog of unphotographed collections and has hired someone specifically, even if temporarily, to improve its collections documentation.

I would say a collections person, or anyone with a museum studies degree, should have some minimum amount of conservation knowledge that includes basic storage standards for different object materials, how to spot potential preservation problems (like if your bronze axe head is actively oxidizing or if that green spot looks the same as it always has since starting and pausing decaying), and maybe how to give objects a basic clean or deal with certain types of problems. But the nitty-gritty science is more the realm of Conservators, someone with a degree that ends in -Sci or who’s done some other certification course.

The general collections store should always be dark, slightly too cool for prolonged human comfort, and labeled to high heaven. Objects will most likely be grouped by material- ceramics/pottery, metals, precious metals and stones (jewelry or beads), stone, glass, wood, bone/ivory/other organic material like feathers or teeth or anything that can be decorative, textiles, paintings. A museum often has some paper material/documents, usually part of or related to a group of objects they acquired, but generally paper and photographic material is the realm of archives and archivists. Yet again, the bigger/more well-funded the museum, the more likely it to have a separate archive department, so your character could also work as an archivist in a museum.

Another thing the collections care folk probably do is ship objects. Remember how I said that  museums loan objects and exhibitions to each other? The stuff’s gotta travel somehow! If things are being shipped internationally, they’ll go in big wooden crates, with specifically dimensioned partitions inside. Then it will be lined with our favorite foam and tissue paper, cut so the objects sit snugly inside. I haven’t personally worked anywhere with a possibility of local shipments, so I can’t say where the threshold might be as to when a museum would just pay an employee to drive the objects over vs ship them with a shipping company. But the preparations would be similar, minus the big wooden crate but with extra-careful packing (and paperwork and insurance etc)

Conservation

Conservators are the people who work in labs with fancy equipment. Not every museum will have a formal conservator or a lab of any kind; sometimes the collections care person fills this role, or if something urgently needs care beyond the abilities of the museum’s equipment, they might send it away to a lab elsewhere, the same way you can send your old VHS home videos to a professional archive to be digitized.

If an object is actively deteriorating in a way that could harm itself or other objects (as opposed to like, at risk of fading bc the lighting is wrong, which is a straightforward fix related to the environment), that’s when a conservator would intervene.

Some methods/machinery by which you can analyze objects:

Ultraviolet (UV) and infrared (IR) light - Different materials absorb and react to light differently, which you can use to identify them. Useful for seeing things like the different layers of paintings

Stereo-microscopy (microscopes, of varying strengths)

At magnifications of x5-x100 you can see things like tool marks from an object’s manufacture, traces from wear, deposits, and coatings

At x50-x500, with a thin sliver of a sample, you can see (and hopefully identify) fibers, layers, particles, metallographic structures 

You can get information from objects without taking samples, but samples are usually worth the information. 

energy dispersive x-ray fluorescence spectrometry (EDXRF) - EDXRF allows you to identify the elemental composition of the surface layer of an object. So it might tell you what a tool is made of, and also the composition of the objects it was used on, if they left traces

scanning electron microscopy (SEM) - an SEM uses a focused beam of electrons to produce a magnified, high-resolution image of the surface of an object

X-radiography, both film and digital - X-rayy are beneficial for objects that might be covered by dirt or corrosion and can show you details of an object’s construction or hidden structural weaknesses

I’m not a conservator, so if you want more hard science-based info, ask one of them lol

Listen to me. If you take nothing else away from this post, let it be this:

 Once an object is in a museum, it is never seeing natural daylight again. Sunlight is the ultimate enemy of every object’s lifespan. If you need to see an object in the sun or moon light for ~magical spell reasons~, you will straight up be stealing that object to smuggle it outside.

Okay. That being said, you do hear (and could probably google) stories about museum employees stealing things from their museums on purpose to prove a point about security or insurance to their higher-ups, so like. Depending on your type of museum, it might not be impossible to steal from lmao. (Don’t tell anyone I said that.)

Possibly the most useful advice for you to keep in mind when writing your conservator or collections care characters would be that touching objects hurts them. It might not hurt them now, it might not even hurt them in ten years, but every time you handle an object, there’s a risk that you’ll damage it. Not on purpose, obviously, but to err is human. The simplest, most effective advice my conservation professor ever gave us was “don’t handle an object if you don’t have to.” That means don’t move an object without a plan and a place to put it, first examination should always be visual, not tactile, etc. Unfortunately, that means that your character cannot walk around lovingly handling and caressing their favorite objects (unless this is a Night at the Museum situation where the objects are caressing them back, ykwim)

Museum Technician

These people probably have a lot of different names, but basically, technicians are the background muscle of the museum. They do the technical construction of bigger pieces of exhibition material, up to and including the exhibition cases themselves. 

So they wouldn’t deal with the small mount that the object rests on, but they might build the big plinth that the mount sits on. They’ll help move things around the building, particularly big heavy things, hang big framed works, assist with exhibit installs, and generally do most things which might involve power tools/equipment or heavy lifting

I worked in a big museum that hired a third party company to supply their technicians; I interviewed at another place that hired their own. If you’re a small museum, you might just have a freelance person that comes in once or twice a week to help move things.

Other

Other miscellaneous roles one could have in a museum: researcher (for exhibits and/or collections), gift shop or cafe worker, security guard, room attendant, translator, archaeologist, consultant

Honestly, TL;DR? Just have your character be a consultant of some kind. “Oh no, I don’t work here, I’m Y’s friend. They called me in to provide some expertise on X subject that they’re doing an exhibit on.” This could work for literally any subject- history/archaeology/anthropology, art, transportation, science and technology, anything you might find pictures of in an archive, idk. This could get you into an office or meeting room of some kind in the ‘employee only’ space of the museum, or potentially all the way into the collections store if you’re giving them information they were missing about some objects. Otherwise you’d probably (hopefully) need a key or some other kind of security clearance to get into the collections store.

Whew, that was a ride, huh? I hope this guide was useful to someone! I’m always open to answering questions if you think I forgot something or if anyone wants more details <3

[libraford]

Here's what's going on in Ohio right now. Heavy stuff ahead.

First, I want to apologize for the misinformation in my original post. I am still learning about legislative processes. To correct: the changes to ODH and OMHAS in regards to gender therapy are not a bill, they are changes in regulations.

This is important because citizens CAN affect rule changes. There is an open commentary period where your submissions get counted and can affect how they write new regulations.

Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, legal advocate, or medical professional. I'm just a dude who had to have it all explained to me.

The first one is Ohio Mental Health and Addiction Services. The rules proposed would make the already prohibitive process of gender transition even harder. In order to diagnose and treat gender dysphoria, a hospital needs to have a board certified psychologist per patient, a board certified endocrinologist familiar with the age group being diagnosed per patient, and a medical ethicist overseeing the hospital's plan for transition. 'Board certified' does not guarantee that the specialist is trans-friendly. It must include a detransition plan. Hospitals would have to report compliance annually. The professionals must have a contractual relationship with the patient, but do not need to offer in-person care. (In this instance, I'll get to that in the next rule change.)

This rule also deems it impermissible to prescribe gender transition care (this includes hormones, puberty blockers, or drugs) for anyone under the age of 21 without the approval of the professionals mentioned and 6 months of therapy.

There is an exception for intersex people, who may have their sex assigned to them without their consent.

The open comment period for this ends January 19 at 5pm.

Send an email to MH-SOT-rules@mha.ohio.gov with the subject title: "Comments on Gender Transition Care Rules."

The second one is Ohio Department of Health and it repeats a lot of the same as the first one. However, the focus is more on the regulation of doctors and paperwork. Anyone seeking transition will be put into a registry with their name redacted, but demographics like age, agab, specific diagnosis (difficult to achieve with the new regulations mentioned above), and any medications (not just related to gender transition, but any medications at all). Any cessation of care must be reported within 30 days.

This is a lot of paperwork and can overburden hospitals.

That 30 days cessation is important because if a person transfers doctors or if a clinic closes and the paperwork isn't filed, it may count as a 'detransition' when tallying demographics, even if that is not the case.

But what's curious is that the ODH regulations DO require in-person care. The rules are contradictory and vague.

The comment period for this ends Feb 5th.

Send a comment through the ODH website

Here are some important things that were mentioned at the meeting:

This is a good time to be personal with your statements. If this would disrupt your life in any way, please say so. "I fear that" "I believe this" "I worry that"- these are great ways to start your comment. An example one person gave is "I worry that this change in regulations would force me and my daughter to move out of state.'

With that being said, anything that you send to these sites will be public record, so be cautious about what you reveal about yourself in your comment.

If you are in need of help, please reach out to one of these resources:

Trans Ohio Emergency Fund Resource Page

Kaleidoscope Youth Center

If you are in need of legal advice on how to navigate all this, please call

888-LGBT-LAW

This is not everything. There is unfortunately more because Ohio decided to break a record this month with anti-trans motions. But today I'm focusing on things that we can take action on.

[myjelllybean]

Blurt it out

This is a Tim Bradford x reader fanfiction I had an idea for and just had to write it down. English is not my first language so there could be a few mistakes.

I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it. If anyone has feedback, I am open for it. <3

Summary: It takes place in 4x1. That's the summary.

The next fanfic I will post will be a Chenford one and I am currently working on other stuff.

If anyone has requests or ideas what I could write just send it in bc I ran out of ideas.

She stared at the display, unable to look away. She didn’t really want to see what was happening, but she couldn’t just look away, and risk to oversee any detail that could help them. As a cop, she was trained to pay attention.

Next to her stood all the other people. Sergeant Grey, John Nolan, Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford, and of course Nyla Harper. She could see Lucy wiping a tear from her cheek, as well as Nyla. But she… she didn’t feel anything. There was not a single emotion in her.

(Y/N) winced, as she saw a shot being fired on the screen. Fuck. The last glimmer of hope was now gone. Sergeant Grey turned the video back.

“There. He flinched. As if Jackson scratched him or something like that”, he said.

“He knew he wouldn’t have a chance and wanted to give us something to work with. There would be DNA under is fingernails.” Lucy’s voice broke.

“I’ll tell the forensics so they can take a look at it. In the meanwhile, I want you all to go home and take some rest. I’ll let you call when we have some new information.” The Sergeant’s voice wasn’t as authoritarian than usually.

“I want to help. I can’t just sit here and do nothing! It was our colleague who got killed! Our friend! And Angela was kidnapped! We need to find out where La Fiera is!” Lucy felt more than (Y/N). You could hear it because of her breaking voice.

“It was an order, Officer Chen. Go home. Like I said, I’ll have you called in if there is any more information that there is now.”

“With all due respect Sir, but that’s my fiancée and I won’t go home until I know where she is and if the baby is healthy. I won’t go home until my pregnant wife-to-be is home with me again.” (Y/N) had completely forgotten that Wesley was here too. It was just logical; his fiancée was missing and he wouldn’t let them do their job without keeping him updated.

(Y/N) felt tears roll over her cheeks. She had just seen one of her best friends being killed. It didn’t feel real. Like she was only watching a movie and didn’t have any relation to the characters. Why couldn’t she feel more? She wanted to be mad, she wanted to be able to scream, to openly cry, but all she could was feel the silent tears rolling down her face.

She could feel a hand on her shoulder. Tim.

“You should go home. This case isn’t on us. At least not in the moment. Get some rest.”

Tim looked at her with worried eyes. Not really surprising. It was in the middle of the night. Her best friend just died – no, got killed - and she stood in the middle of the police department, crying because she didn’t know what to do. How she could get up in the next days.

“Come on.” She let Tim lead her out the office.

“I… I can’t go home. What if something happens? I… I’ll just stay here. This is the safest place right now.”

Tim looked at her… concerned. He often dealt with this kind of emergency, but Tim had never before dealt with this with his friends. Of course, he has already lost partners in the job but not like this.

“You can come with me. It would also be easier if they call us in to help them with something. Your apartment has a longer way to the department.” (Y/N) stared at him with wide eyes.

“Really? I… I don’t want to impose and you don’t feel too well either I think… your… your best friend just got kidnapped.” She really didn’t want to be an inconvenience. And what would be the looks she would get if anyone found out she stayed at her boss’ house for over the night even though they won’t do anything else that sleeping. In separate rooms.

“You won’t. Are you hungry? We didn’t really eat as the wedding didn’t take place so…?”

“I am hungry but I honestly don’t know if I can keep anything down now.” (Y/N) tried to dry her face from the tears, that finally stopped flowing.

“We can get some take-out and we try to eat and if not, we have the left-overs for tomorrow. Sounds like a plan?” (Y/N) nodded.

“Yes, that’s great. Thank you.” They slowly went to Tim’s car. The blisters the high heels gave her feet were long forgotten. They were her smallest problem right now. Somehow the physical pain even made her feel better.

They only stopped once to get the food. Quickly they decided to take Pizza, something they loved, and could easily be eaten the next day if there were some leftovers.

Tim’s house was… (Y/N) didn’t know what to say. It… fit him. Modern, but not much decoration. She took place at the table, the dress she wore was a bit disturbing.

Shit… She forgot that she doesn’t have any other clothes with her. She only had her dress, and she didn’t really want to sleep in it. It reminded her of all the things that happened today.   

“Ehm… Tim?” He stopped on his way to get 2 plates for the pizza.

“Yes? Is everything ok?” She nodded and then shook her head.

“I don’t have any clothes with me. Do you think we could get some clothes from my place?”

Tim looked at her as if she was crazy. She could somehow understand it. Her house wasn’t exactly next door. They would have to drive at least 30 minutes.  

“You know that it is a long way? Would you be ok if I gave you a shirt of mine and I still have joggers from Angela when she had an argument with Wesley and came here? I know it would be much too big but if you just slept here, I think it would work?” He looked at her with a questioning look and she nodded.

Why not? For now, it seemed like the best solution. Would it be unprofessional? Yes. Would everyone judge her if they saw her? Definitely. But right now, she had bigger problems. Jackson died. Angela got kidnapped. She kind of lost two of her best friends today.

Tim went to, which (Y/N) assumed, was his bedroom. Only a minute later he came back, a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Here. You can go change in the bathroom. The first door on the left side.” He pointed in the direction he just came from.

“Thank you. Really.” Tim smiled. It was an exhausted but not a forced one.

“No problem at all.”

(Y/N) went to the bathroom. It was definitely more modern than her own. The shower! Wow. She would give everything just to have a hot shower.

“Tim? Could I take a short shower?” Her voice sounded weak. She didn’t have the energy to shout through the whole apartment, she just had to hope that Tim would have heard her.

“Yes. I’ll make the pizza into the oven so it doesn’t get cold, ok?”

“Thanks.”

(Y/N) didn’t remember when the last time was, that she had a proper shower, without having to stress herself because she needed to go to work. Still, she couldn’t enjoy the hot water, that was running over her body.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by emotions. The tears began to slow freely. She wasn’t crying as silently as she did before. Now she could only hope that Tim couldn’t hear her. She sank to the floor; the cold tiles on her back welt like ice cubes in contrast to the hot water.

She buried her face in her hands. Her brain finally realized it. Her friend was dead. Angela got kidnapped. They didn’t know what La Fiera was going to do to her. To her unborn baby. Did Angela already know that Jackson got killed?

A gentle knock was on the door.

“Are you ok, (Y/N)?” She tried to wipe away the tears. Stupid; she was in a shower.

“Yes. I’m ok.” She wasn’t and she knew that Tim could hear it. It was embarrassing. Her boss heard her cry. They weren’t even real friends. She tells him much about her life when they were on shift, but he was always a bit… reserved. They were acquaintances but nothing more.

(Y/N) was glad that Tim didn’t pry any further and she continued to sob freely. She heard how the door opened. Tim didn’t just come into the bathroom, did he? Luckily, the steam already covered the glass of the shower so he couldn’t properly see her.

He opened the door to the shower and switched off the shower. He handed her a bathrobe, which she slipped into. It was made out of very soft material. He gently pulled her out of the shower… and hugged her. A real hug. Not a hug like the ones you give when saying hello or goodbye… no… he held her.

(Y/N) didn’t know when it was the last time, she was hugged like that. She cried freely into Tim’s shirt. Right now, she wasn’t embarrassed by it. She didn’t even care about it a little bit. She was just thankful to be held.

After a few minutes, Tim led her to the living room, where he sat her on the couch, giving her a warm blanket he covered her with. Then he just sat down next to her, and continued to hold her. He didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions. And it was exactly what (Y/N) needed at the moment.

When she finally started to calm down a bit, she wiped away her tears with her hands.

“Thank you, Tim.” Her voice trembled and sounded hoarse. If she still had her Make-up on, her face would have been black from the mascara by now.

“Nothing to thank me. It’s what a friend does.” Tim smiled weakly at her. Friends. He called them friends. She probably wouldn’t say that, but in the moment, she was thankful for it as it made the situation a bit less weird.

“I should probably get changed.” (Y/N) suddenly became aware that she wasn’t wearing anything under the bathrobe.

“Ok. Should I warm up the food? I am really hungry.” Tim looked at er with a questioning look.

“Uhm… yes… that would be great. Again, thank you.” (Y/N) hurried to the bathroom where the clothes Tim led her were still lying on the floor.

Just as she wanted to change into the clothes, Tim called her name.

“Come on we have to go! Grey has new information about Angela!” Instead of changing into the comfortable clothes, she just again slipped into her dress from the evening. Her hair was still wet but it didn’t matter at the moment.

When she stepped into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice Tim’s gaze at her. He scratched his neck, something she knew he did when he felt uncomfortable or nervous which has only happened once before.

“Ehm… Your… zipper isn’t properly… closed.”

Fuck! This didn’t just happen. Half of her chest was exposed… How could she not have noticed that before?! She already felt uncomfortable enough in this situation. Why did this have to happen exactly today. (Y/N) felt like she was about to cry.

She tried to close the zipper but it jammed.

“Wait let me do this.” As if the situation couldn’t get more embarrassing now her boss offered to close the zipper of her dress? If it was at least a zipper at the back of the dress but no. Why did she choose that dress today?

While Tim closed the zipper, (Y/N) only stared at the ceiling, unable to look at him.

“Ok. All done. Let’s go.” She ran to the car, as fast as it was possible in high heels. She slumped into the passenger’s seat.

“Here. Drink.” (Y/N) eyed Tim’s hand as he gave her a can of red bull.

“Oh wow. Thanks.” She was lucky he remembered to pack a few energy drinks in the back of the car, as they both were sleep deprived. And she herself was glad she packed her back with make up for the wedding, which was still in it.

She put the light on and put a bit of her make up on, so it wasn’t as obvious as before that she had cried before.

“You really do your make up now? In a driving car? Nobody is going to be interested in how you look. We have bigger problems at the moment.” (Y/N) glared at him.

Tim had been married. Didn’t he know doing make up is important for a woman? She always found it calming to do make up. It was soothing to do the precise work. Not being able to make mistakes especially not in a stressful situation.  

***

Only a few minutes later they arrived at the police department. They hurried to the Sergeant’s office. Nolan, Chen, and Nyla were already there. The only one missing was Wesley.

“Thank you for coming. Wesley’s not here. He is already in Guatemala. Lokks like he had an informer who helped him find La Fiera aka Sandra de la Cruz. We don’t know what’s going to happen. La Fiera is mentally instable especially after what happened to her son. I can’t officially send anyone to Guatemala.” Grey shot them a meaningful look.

“So, we’ll just have to wait what Wesley can do? He doesn’t have anyone there! He is an attorney! He has no chance against Sandra de la Cruz!” Nolan made a point there.

“I said I can’t officially send you there. But if I don’t know what you are going to do, I can’t prevent you from doing whatever you plan to.”

Now it was Tim speaking: “Conference room. Now. Everyone but Grey.”

***

Only an hour later everything was planned. They all were flying to Guatemala. (Y/N) has never been flying with a helicopter before, what makes her really nervous.

Next to her, sat Tim and on the opposite side were Lucy and John sat. Nyla was in the front with the pilot and in the back were two more seats for Angela and Wesley.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers on her thigh, squeezing her eyes shut as the chopper took off. She has changed into her police uniform, as the evening gown wouldn’t have been really practical for a long flight to Guatemala and probably a few shootouts.

She felt a hand on her fingers which where still drumming a rhythm. Tim’s.

“You ok, (Y/L/N)?” He was into full police mode. There wasn’t any space for kind words. They were about to free Angela and maybe even Wesley. If anyone wasn’t concentrated or anxious, they shouldn’t have come with them. It would have been irresponsible.

“I’m fine, Bradford.” Her voice didn’t sound as strong as she hoped, but everyone seemed to buy it for now.

After they finally landed, Harper, Nolan and Bradford were busy preparing the drone, while Lucy and (Y/N) looked around to make sure that they were save for now. They weren’t really near the house, but they didn’t know how careful La Fiera was.

It was already early in the morning. No one has slept in the last 24 hours, but they were so hyped up by adrenaline and energy drinks, that they barely felt how tired they were.

“Have you eaten anything in the last few hours”, asked Lucy at some point.

“A protein bar at the station but I not more. Didn’t have appetite after… after what happened yesterday. And you? Have you even been home?” (Y/N) could see that Lucy was exhausted and that she cried before. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“No. I couldn’t. I told Tamara I needed to do overtime but I don’t think she bought it. I stayed at the department and slept on a chair in the conference room. I just wasn’t able to go home to see Jackson’s stuff lying everywhere in the apartment. Where you at home? You still were in you dress when you came after Grey called you.” Lucy looked at her for a short time but not long as they still had to concentrate on La Fiera’s workers.

(Y/N) shook her head while saying: “I couldn’t go home either. Didn’t want to be alone after what happened. Tim offered me to sleep at his place.”

“Tim? Tim Bradford? Our boss Timothy Bradford?” Lucy looked really surprised but (Y/N) couldn’t blame her. She nodded.

“Yepp. He was really kind. I was very… upset earlier, so I was very thankful.”

Her friend still looked a bit shocked.

“Wow… that’s… strange. But you don’t have… feelings… for him… right?” (Y/N) laughed.

“God, no. I have to admit it had been a bit strange at the beginning but he was really understanding. He even bought pizza which is now probably cold.”

Even though she laughed, she wasn’t sure if the “feelings-theory” was that wrong. Did she have feelings for Tim? She has often questioned that before.

Every time he touched her it felt… special. She felt like her stomach felt full of butterflies. But she can’t have feelings for him, right? He was her boss and Lucy had to break up with Nolan because he had been also a rookie and not even her boss.

Damn it, why does she always have feelings for guys she cannot have. She still knows how it felt seeing Tim on her side when she woke up from surgery after she was involved in a knife attack. He said he didn’t stay in hospital all night, but she knew he was lying as he still wore the same clothes as the day before.

“Ok, the drone is ready”, Lucy and (Y/N) heard over the radio. They ran back to Bradford, Nolan and Harper. The display, that Nyla was holding, showed everything that was to see with the drone’s camera.

“Ok, they put Wesley and Angela in the trucks. It looks like she is in labor. Ok, that’s what we wanted. No. No! They drive them separated! Nolan, (Y/LN). You follow Wesley. Bradford, Chen and I, we follow Lopez to the hospital. Go!”

***

Like they were told, John and (Y/N) followed Wesley. It looked like there was only one person with him, but they couldn’t know for sure.

As (Y/N) and John followed the truck carrying Wesley, the tension in the air was palpable. Every second felt like an eternity as they carefully maintained their distance, making sure not to lose sight of the vehicle but also not to arouse suspicion. The city's neon lights flickered past, casting an eerie glow on the damp streets.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" John asked, his voice steady but concerned.

(Y/N) nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I'm fine, Nolan. Just... focused."

John glanced at her, noticing the tightness around her eyes. He knew what it felt like to be on edge, especially after a traumatic event. "We're going to get them back. Both Wesley and Angela. We just have to stay sharp."

(Y/N) appreciated his words but couldn't shake the gnawing anxiety in her stomach. She forced herself to stay in the moment, her training kicking in as she scanned the surroundings for any signs of any danger.

The truck turned into an industrial area, and (Y/N) signaled to John. "We need to be ready for anything.”

When they arrived at some kind of farm, the vehicle stopped, the person in the truck stepped out, revealing a silhouette in the bright sunlight. John and (Y/N) exchanged a glance and nodded, both ready to move.

"We need to get closer," (Y/N) whispered as they slipped out of their vehicle and crept towards the warehouse, using the shadows of the trees for cover.

They could see how Wesley got pulled out of the car, a weapon held to the side of his head.

“Faster! I don’t have the time for your games!” Just when Nolan and (Y/N) noticed that the man was about to shoot, they stepped forward.

“Drop the weapon! Now!” Suddenly, a shot rang out, and (Y/N) felt a sharp pain in her side. She gasped, stumbling and clutching her wound as she fell to the ground. John immediately dropped to her side, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

“(Y/N)! Stay with me," John urged, his hands shaking as he applied pressure to her wound. "We need backup! Officer down, officer down!" he called into his radio.

(Y/N)'s vision blurred, but she forced herself to stay conscious. "John... you need to... get Wesley..."

“I know. He is just over there. It’s going to be ok. Just stay with me.

 Back at the hospital, Tim Bradford, Lucy Chen, and Nyla Harper were on high alert, they already found Angela and were on their way to the chopper that should bring them back to LA. Tim's mind was racing, worry etched across his face. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, and it only intensified when he heard Nolan’s frantic call over the radio.

"Officer down. (Y/N) has been shot. We need immediate medical assistance!"

Tim's heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Lucy, who looked equally horrified, which wasn’t surprising as (Y/N) was her best friend. Lucy has already lost Jackson, just yesterday, she couldn’t bear to lose (Y/N) now too.

When they all arrived at the chopper, they found John – who already was in the chopper - desperately trying to keep (Y/N) conscious. The sight of her, pale and bleeding, hit Bradford like a train. He rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he took over from John.

"(Y/N), hang on. You're going to be okay," Tim said, his voice cracking. He couldn't hide the emotion in his eyes. "Stay with me."

She looked up at him, her vision fading but her heart swelling at his presence. "Tim... I..."

"Don't talk," Tim interrupted, his voice choked with emotion. "Save your strength. We are on our way to the hospital.”

Thanks to his time in the army, he knew how to handle shooting wounds. He pressed a shirt – he assumed it was Nolan’s – to the wound, wincing as (Y/N) cried out in pain.

“I am so, so sorry.” Tim had never felt something like that when someone got shot. Not even when he was the one shot. He had never felt this much panic. He never had to hold back tears.

Hours later, Tim sat in the waiting room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't lose her. Not when he finally understood what she meant to him.

"Any news?" Lucy asked, her voice trembling.

Tim shook his head, unable to speak. They sat in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts, until a doctor finally approached.

"She's stable," the doctor said, and Tim felt a rush of relief so intense it nearly knocked him over. "She lost a lot of blood, but she's going to be okay."

Tim let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

As they were allowed into her room, Tim sat by (Y/N)'s bedside, holding her hand gently. She looked fragile, but there was a peacefulness to her face that gave him hope.

When her eyes fluttered open, she smiled weakly at him. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Tim replied, his voice soft. "You scared me."

(Y/N) chuckled weakly. "Sorry about that."

Tim leaned closer; his eyes locked onto hers. "You were trying to tell me something before..."

“It was nothing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to let me die there”, she whispered. She doesn’t know why she couldn’t just say the truth but this didn’t seem to be the right moment. She had just been shot. What if he assumed she was just high on morphine – which she probably was, but that’s not the point.

The point is, she has feelings for her Sergeant. For her boss. And she doesn’t know if he felt the same. She has doubts. Why would someone like Tim, who doesn’t let any feelings near him, like her? She was just another colleague of his.

“Mhm… ok. I have to go. I am on shift today, but I will come back later. And here, I’ve got you a burger and fries. Thought you don’t want to have the gross hospital food after you were shot and haven’t eaten for 35 hours.” Tim held a paper back towards her.

“Thank you. And wait… I haven’t eaten for 35 hours? That’s a record!” Tim chuckled at (Y/N)’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“See you later.”

***

A bit later, Lucy stepped into the room, what made (Y/N) happy as she has already watched three movies and started to get bored.

"Hey, you," Lucy greeted, her voice warm. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/N) managed a small smile. "I've been better. But I'm alive, thanks to you all."

Lucy pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. "We're just glad you're okay. You really gave us all a scare."

(Y/N) hesitated, then decided to share her burden. If anyone could help her, it was Lucy. "Lucy, can I talk to you about something? Something... kind of… personal?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, definitely intrigued. "Of course. What's up?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "It's about Tim. I... I think…I have feelings for him. I have for a while, but I don't think I can tell him. I mean, why would he ever feel the same way about me?"

Lucy leaned back, crossing her arms with a smile tugging at her lips “I knew it. It was clear to all of us. Lopey, Harper and I, we even have a bet running when you are going to tell each other. But really, why would you think you're not enough for him?"

(Y/N) looked away, feeling a lump in her throat. "I don't know. He's just... Tim. Strong, dependable, a great leader and so, so confident. And I'm just... me."

Lucy leaned forward; her expression serious now. "Listen, (Y/N). Tim is great, but you're amazing too. You're brave, dedicated, and you've got a heart of gold. And you are so damn strong. You have just survived a shooting. If Tim doesn't see that, then he's blind. But honestly, from what I've seen, I think he does see it."

(Y/N) felt a flicker of hope but still wasn't convinced. "But what if I'm wrong? What if it ruins everything?"

“That’s the risk you’d have to take. But I really doubt it. How he looks at you? How worried he was when he heard you got shot? He even stayed in the uncomfortable hospital waiting room all night as he refused to go home in case something happened! He told Harper to get you the burger and fries in your favorite shop and was about to kill her when she wanted to go to a different one!”

(Y/N) looked at her best friend with wide eyes.

“Are you being serious?” Lucy nodded.

“I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t.” (Y/N) looked away, tears welling up in her eyes.

Lucy sighed, reaching out to gently turn (Y/N)’s face back toward her. "Listen to me. Life is too short to hold back your feelings. If you care about him, he deserves to know. And you deserve to be happy."

(Y/N) sniffled, a small smile breaking through her fear. "But how? When? I can't just blurt it out."

They both chuckled at the thought of her randomly telling Tim she likes him.

“Maybe you tell him when you get discharged from hospital. I am sure he is going to be there because he worries about you and wants to make sure you are ok. He even volunteered to drive you to your apartment and make sure you are comfortable with staying at home without anyone”, Lucy said.

“Ok. That sounds like a plan. Thank you.” Lucy squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

“That’s what friends are for.”

***

Finally, the day of her discharge came, and (Y/N) has thought about this moment a lot. How would she tell Tim? Where? When they are still driving to her apartment or should she invite him into her apartment to talk to him? She has never been the one to tell the other person she’s in love with them.

Tim entered her hospital room, where she sat on her bed, wearing joggers and a wide shirt. She knew she didn’t look her best, but if Tim expected something different, only 5 days after she had been shot, he would be stupid.

“Hey. Are you ready to go home?” Tim stepped into the room, smiling softly at her. Had Lucy been right? Did he really feel the same for her as she did for him? He wasn’t the mean, strong man in this moment. He looked… she didn’t even know how to say it… softer than usually?

“More than ready. 5 days in a hospital without proper Wi-Fi is definitely too long.” Tim chuckled.

“Ok, come on. Can you walk on your own?” (Y/N) nodded even though she wasn’t so sure. Yes, the meds they gave her are good, but not as good as she didn’t feel the pain in her abdomen where the bullet hit her spleen.

She slowly got up from bed, trying not to wince because of the pain she felt.

“Let me help you.” (Y/N) didn’t even react before she felt Tims arm around her, helping her to stay upright.

Somehow, they managed to go to the car, and (Y/N) took a deep breath when she finally sat in the comfortable passenger seat of Tim’s car.

“Are you sure you are alright being home again? Without help? You didn’t even manage to go to the car properly.“

(Y/N) waved him off.

“I am going to be ok. The meds only start to wear off but it is going to be better once I have taken the new painkillers they gave me.”

“Mhm…”

While they drove, it was quite silent. (Y/N) thought about how to tell Tim how she felt about him, because she still wasn’t sure how to break the news.

The car came to a gentle stop in front of her apartment building. Tim turned off the engine and looked over at her. "You sure you're ready for this? I can stay for a bit if you need help getting settled."

(Y/N) nodded, taking a deep breath. "Actually, Tim, I was hoping you would come in for a bit. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Tim's brow furrowed with curiosity, but he nodded and got out of the car, helping her carefully navigate her way to her apartment. Once inside, she guided him to the living room, the familiarity of the space giving her comfort.

"Sit down, please," (Y/N) said, her voice sounded higher than usually. She motioned to the couch, and Tim obliged, his eyes never leaving hers.

"What's on your mind?" Tim asked, his tone gentle but also worried. And maybe a bit panicked?

(Y/N) took a seat beside him, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "Tim, I... I need to tell you something kind of really important. It's been on my mind for a while now, and after everything that has happened, I just can't keep it to myself for longer."

Tim leaned forward, his full attention on her. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. "Tim, I... I think I have feelings for you. I know it's probably not appropriate, and I know you're my boss, but I can't help it. I care about you, more than just as a colleague or a friend."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, (Y/N) feared the worst. Tim's expression was unreadable, and she braced herself for rejection.

But then Tim reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was warm, reassuring. "I don't know what to say," he began, his voice soft. "Except that I feel the same way. I have felt like this for quite a while now. I care about you a lot, and it scared me to think I might lose you when you got shot and laid there."

(Y/N)'s eyes filled with tears, a mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion. "Really? I was so scared you wouldn't feel the same."

Tim smiled; a rare, genuine smile that even made her heart skip a beat. "It was hard to admit, even to myself. But seeing you hurt, thinking about what could have happened... it made me realize how much you mean to me."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, both of them processing the magnitude of what they had just confessed. Then, Tim chuckled softly. "I guess we're both pretty bad at this, huh?"

(Y/N) laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Yeah, I guess we are. But I'm glad we finally talked about it."

“Me too.” Tim swiped his thumb over the back of (Y/N)’s hand, which he still had in his own.

“Tim? Is… is it ok if I kiss you?” Instead of an answer, Tim leaned into her direction, and kissed her like she never had been kissed before.

In this moment she knew that she loved this man. He has always been there for her. He was the person she talked about everything that happened in her life.

When Tim let go of her again, (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something.

“Was everything… with us… why you have always reacted so jealous and… tight… when I talked about my last boyfriends?”

Tim looked at her, his lips swollen from their kiss.

“Maybe… but I wouldn’t have wanted it differently. I loved listening to everything that happened in your life. And you always smiled so sweet when you talked about everything. I loved listening to you. I still have the records of when you recorded my books I had to learn for the sergeant test. Thank you.”

 “What are you thanking me for?” (Y/N) looked at Tim confused.

“For being you. For making me laugh. For trusting me. Simply for everything. But I believe we aren’t allowed to work together from now on.”

“What if we didn’t tell anyone we are a couple?” Tim raised his brow at the question, before shrugging.

“I think that could work too.”  

[leonw4nter]

And When The Sun Left, I Thought You Never Loved Me

RE4R!Leon x F!Reader royal AU

You yawn and feel the exhaustion take over your senses and weigh down your lids yet sleep does not claim you; you consumed three thick books, all three stacked on your bedside vanity but you find yourself unable to sleep, for some odd reason. Warm milk with honey, sniffing peppermint oils, and an opened window to let the cold evening gale circulate in your room– you’ve tried it but you still continue to lay awake and irritated in your bed, turning over to lie on your stomach to groan into your silk pillowcase. You’re sure that the sun will rise from the sea again in a few hours, the tweeting of birds rending you that the night is over and you’ve lost the chance to rest for the day ahead will be busy, overseeing wedding preparations with your betrothed, Leon. Only having migrated to his palace a week ago, you were still in the process of familiarization with the ins and outs of his grand residence. You assumed that sleeping in a new environment, one wildly different from your manor, affected your sleeping habit.

One of your nurse-maids has also informed you that being far from your husband-to-be, especially in the evenings, could be one of the sources of your troubles with sleeping. Though he is to be your husband in a matter of days, you are not very familiar with him and the same goes for him; you two have only met a month ago, over a talk of paintings and music. You must admit, he seems to be genuine of heart and truly kind to any person he meets but you know that this could change as soon as he marries you and is expected to give the kingdom heirs. You wince at the thought of heirs, unprepared for such an undertaking despite the public’s expectations, especially the families joined by your union. At first, you were hesitant and against whoever your parents paired you with but after getting along and taking a liking to the crown prince of the kingdom, you are now only half hesitant to this marriage.

Turning to your side with your eyes trained on your curtains gently swaying along to the cold breeze, you wonder if Leon is also struggling to fall asleep right this moment or if his own nurse-maids have given him remedies to induce a deep and restful sleep. What do they give him? Warmed milk or cold milk? With or without honey? Does he even need these in order to fall asleep? Since Leon is often busy with building strength and engaging in his studies in his palace’s own library, you figure that each day for him must be eventful if slumber claims him so easily. The more you ponder about his sleep habit and regiment, the more you grow envious of him right now; you itch to get up, depart your chambers, and head to him, maybe even fall asleep tucked away safely into his side– if he loves you back and is willing to breach the conduct between betrothed pairs– to sleep in separate chambers until the night of their wedding. As soon as the idea is entertained, the harder it is to ignore its appeal to your current state. You sit up and shake your head, trying to clear your mind of any thought that involves you walking down unlit and unfamiliar halls, looking for the door of the crown prince’s royal chambers. Even if you are familiar with the maze-like residence, you doubt that you can get through his doors that are guarded by elite-ranking knights. Sighing, you accept that you will hear birds soon and will appear before your family and his with dark bags beneath your eyes.

“Ah, yes. I struggle with sleep,” you suddenly recall him telling you quite some time ago. “The images of battle, the smell of rust and blood harass me just as I slip into slumber. It… it haunts me.” You sit up, pity settling deep in your bones; you have experienced losing sleep due to nightmares every once in a while yet here he is, plagued and haunted by the monsters of his past and present every night. The bags underneath his eyes suddenly make sense, along with his frequently chapped lips and his exhausted aura. Not even the most calming and fragrant oils could help him, for those only served as temporary relief for the troubled young prince. Determined to go to him, more for his sake than your own this time, you grab your maroon cloak, and quietly leave your bedchambers. A few steps down the hall, a considerable distance from your door, you regret not bringing along a lantern with you. Despite the silver gleam of the moonlight, this would be little help to a place as foreign as this. Far from your door and forcing yourself to be familiar with what will soon be your residence, you continue on in the dark with a hand around the walls as you tread along, feet gently padding along the carpet.

“Floors are equal to rank,” you mumble to yourself. “The king and queen are on the uppermost floor, crown prince on the level beneath theirs. I’m on the lower levels, which means I will climb a staircase… twice or thrice.”

You’re not sure where you are or where the staircase is. You’re certain that there is a painting hung by the stairs but as you continue walking, you’re certain your memory may be playing tricks on you. To make matters worse, you’re growing increasingly afraid as you head to his chambers alone in the dark. The eyes of the portraits of past royals feel as if they are moving and staring at the back of your head, ready to pounce from the gold frame and maul you. Doing the sign of the cross and mumbling a proactive prayer for yourself, you dash down the hall and turn to the first hallway extension you see. You keep a hand firmly fastened around your mouth, mentally reminding yourself to keep yourself silent. So much for staying silent when you bump your elbow against the wall, startling yourself, and tripping over your own feet and landing harshly on your side with a thud. You are not in pain, not yet at least, because your attention is turned to the stretch of the hallway behind you and the dead-end in front of you. You focus on leveling your breathing and trying to limit the noise you’ve been making since earlier, the thudding and the yelp you forgot to conceal. The dead-end in front of you appears to melt and disintegrate, the walls opening up but you look up and realize that it’s not a dead-end; it’s a door.

“Who dares to interrupt the crown prince’s slumber.” A gravelly, baritone voice demands. You gasp, looking up at the man in front of you. Leon. Your eyes widen, breath hitched in your throat.

“My prince!” You whisper with urgency, adjusting your position to be kneeling in front of him, forehead to the ground with your hands laying flat beside your head. “I- I apologize. Disrupting and causing a ruckus was far from my intentions!”

Leon crouches and tips your chin up politely, blue eyes inspecting your blushing and reddened face. “You look troubled. What bothers you?”

“I ran here, my liege. I am unfamiliar with the palace and bumped my elbow, which startled me. I apologize and ask for your forgiveness, my prince.”

“You did not exactly answer my question, my princess.” He says, helping you stand up. He lays his hands on your shoulders, looking you over before he gently takes your forearm and inspects your elbow. A slight redness right where the anterior band should be.

You mentally berate yourself for not giving him an answer, wishing that you hit your head instead and fell concussed so that you didn’t have to deal with this situation.

“Ah, my deepest apologies once again.” You keep apologizing, you look like a hooligan! “I came here to see you, sire. I…” I wanted to see if you were kind enough to let me into your bedchambers and perhaps let me lay by your side to fall asleep! “I… was wondering if you were sleeping soundly. I t-thought about you, my prince.”

He hums, gently setting your arm back to your side. You take a swift moment to observe him– he still had bags beneath his eyes and his lips were cracked as ever, his skin paler than usual, and droopy lids. Tufts of wheat-colored hair stood at odd angles at the back of his head, a telltale sign of him tossing and turning in his bed for only god knows how long.

“Are you being honest, my princess?” He asks. “You thought about me?”

“Yes, my liege.” you respond, dipping your head in a shallow bow. “I found trouble with falling asleep and you came to mind and I wondered if you were also having trouble falling asleep.”

“I am.” He curtly says. “I am and have been finding trouble sleeping. I… I find it warming that you would think about my well-being.”

“You, my prince, are human just like the rest of us. The worst spares no one,” you respond with a soft smile. “Would you like me to accompany you until you fall asleep?”

A look of surprise crosses his face and you wish you never offered that in the first place, appearing desperate in front of the man you must impress.

“Yes,” he quietly says as he opens his door wider for you. “I would love that.”

It’s your turn to be surprised yet you nod and cross the threshold of his chambers for the first time; the walls were covered in gray wallpaper, meticulously embossed with dainty damask patterns in gold leaf. The ceiling was painted with a mural of a soft sky with hues of some pink and light blue along with clouds of different appearances, some looked like cotton while others looked like feathers. The baseboards and crown molding of his room were all sculpted and painted gold as well, similar to his bed frame with an impressive canopy that loomed over. His sheets were made of dark gray silk with subtle damask embroidery, as well. A magnificent chandelier crafted in the form of a chimera hung overhead, decorated with diamonds and sapphires. His room is just as breathtaking as he is, his space a reflection of his personality. You let go of a breath you didn’t know you held, head craned towards the heavens to admire the artwork above you. If you thought your room was grand, his was even more so.

“I see that you seem to like the mural on my ceiling,” he observes.

“Yes, I do. It is quite the beauty,” you softly smile. “I did not expect you to have such a treasure like this confined in your quarters, my prince.”

He grins, walking behind you as he observes your impressed face. When visitors take a peek into his room, the sole thing they would consider as a treasure is his chandelier. He expected you to do the same but instead opted for the soft pink and light blue view suspended above your head.

“I am glad to know that you still recognize the colors despite a tiny sliver of the moon beaming in. Consider me impressed.”

You grin, giving yourself a small pat to the shoulder when Leon isn’t looking your way. “So, my princess, shall we retire for the evening?”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You and Leon lay on opposite sides of the bed, both of you sleeping on your backs. His eyes are shut, brows furrowed while you try not to fall asleep just yet, keeping your gaze trained on the canopy above. Every now and then, you tilt your head to steal glances and take in the finer details of his face– the slope of his nose, the permanent furrow of his eyebrows, and his long lashes. Before you can help it, a giddy smile manifests itself in your lips the longer you stare at him.

“You are staring at me, dear princess.”

Your eyes widen, snapping your head to face the opposite side as you shut your eyes and tense your body. Your ears pick up a heavenly sound, his laugh, beside you and you turn to face him, confused. “What amuses you, prince?”

“What amuses me,” he faces you. “Is how I am utterly wrapped around your delicate finger, my dearest princess. You have me wrapped around the same delicate finger you used to carefully take apart the walls I built around my heart yet I do not wish to take action against that.”

Your cheeks burn beet red, heart challenging even the fastest racehorses that Leon’s father owns. You nod, a silent acknowledgement of his flattery for you cannot properly conjure the words to say to react to that.

“It makes me nervous that our wedding is to take place soon,” you speak up. “I am not sure if I will be the princess the people will need, if I can serve you properly. There are certain things that I am not ready for.”

You feel Leon’s finger experimentally brush against your knuckle underneath the duvet, careful so as not to cross a boundary that you’re not ready for yet. Returning the same gentle brush of a finger, you slowly link fingers with him as your heart explodes in the most vibrant colors inside your ribcage.

“I am certain that you will treat the people with utmost respect and kindness, my princess, worry not. As for serving me, your presence alone is a service beyond measure. I do not ask for more.”

You giggle, a melody Leon looks forward to hearing.

“Thank you. How about you, my prince? Are you nervous?”

“Very much so, we both have a lot to bear on our shoulders with this union. I must admit, that is one of the few reasons I have been lying wide awake almost each night. I am sorry that even you are disturbed.”

“No, my prince. I am not disturbed at all– far from it, actually.”

“We tend to apologize frequently,” Leon observes. “Another thing we share in common.”

“We’ll add another trait that we share in common soon,” you beam.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Our surnames. We will share them soon.”

Leon’s eyes widen, warmth travelling from his cheeks towards the tips of his ears. He quickly tilts his head to the side, away from your eyes, and lets out a wide grin. He must admit, you got him there.

“As anxious as I am, a part of me cannot wait.”

“I believe we share the same sentiment.”

Slowly and carefully, you tilt your body and inch a little closer to Leon. His positive reception to your presence is taking a toll on you, glowing with confidence and that confidence leads you to be a little more forward with your actions.

“A little closer, dearest.” He says, moving a little closer to you. “You are not quite near enough, in my opinion.”

After a little more shuffling and getting cozy, you two finally settle into a position that is comfortable and fall asleep together with his arm wrapped around you and your arm slung around his chest.

NOTE - I feel so old rn coz yesterday, only my right knee was the one hurting... now it's both knees + my back 💀 Joints cracking at every movement too so now I've been drinking milk... why? I think my bones need the extra calcium <3 Anyways, sorry yall for this mid ass fic 😭 My brain stopped working mid-writing but for some reason I was still determined to finish this so.... yeah :') I decided to do some cleaning before posting this and I came across a bunch of old school records from when I was younger (think 6th grade and lower) and bruhh... I WAS SO STUPID?!?!?! LIKE I STRUGGLED WITH SPELLING AND IDIOMS?? HUH???? I NEVER KNEW THAT??? I always thought I understood idioms well so ion know what the fuck happened... like I looked at schoolwork that involved idioms and I did get good scores, perfect even, but for some reason the comments on my OLSAT performance then said that I was below average when it came to spelling and idiomatic expression understanding so 😭😭😭 No clue mates.......... Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The hanging jewels divider was made by @mikeykuns , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[iamonlyperson]

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER

YouTuber Markiplier Got Passes From Everyone in Hollywood — So, He Made a Hit His Way

Podcast adaptation 'The Edge of Sleep' from New Regency spent the weekend on Amazon Prime Video's most watched TV chart, but, as the YouTuber and team reveals, it didn't get there through traditional channels.

In 2019, 'The Edge of Sleep', the latest offering from Mark Fischbach, known to his 37 million YouTube subscribers as Markiplier, was pitched to every major platform in Hollywood.

By then, 'The Edge of Sleep' was already a popular podcast. In fact, it quickly became the biggest genre narrative podcast of all time, with some 6 million downloads and counting. And for the television adaptation, Markiplier would be reprising his role as a night watchman, who attempts to survive a mysterious global crisis where anyone who goes to sleep dies. The podcast’s creators, Jake Emanuel and Willie Block, were on board to write and run the TV version, and Longlegs producer Brian Kavanaugh Jones was attached to produce. There would be six episodes, made on a relative shoestring budget, served up to a rapt audience that Markiplier has cultivated for more than a decade with a channel primarily focused on Let’s Play videos.

Curtis, who’s represented Markiplier for eight years, wasn’t particularly surprised by the deluge of nos. As he tells it, Hollywood has never been willing to take his client seriously. The feedback? “Oh, the YouTuber? No, thanks.’ Just totally dismissive,” he says via Zoom, insisting the entire reason that they did 'The Edge of Sleep' as a QCODE-produced podcast first was because they wanted something to be able to show skittish buyers when they ultimately shopped the TV adaptation. It was also the reason that Curtis, whose client roster over the years has included Rami Malek and Veep‘s Timothy Simons, urged Markiplier to do his second podcast, Distractible, an unscripted offering featuring him and a few buddies.

“I went to Mark three years ago and I said, ‘Hey, look, I’m not getting a lot of love and respect for you in the market, you should do a podcast because I know you can build one of the biggest podcasts in the world. And at that point, I think traditional Hollywood will say, “Oh wow, you just knocked out Joe Rogan from No. 1 on Spotify. Let’s pay attention,”’” says Curtis. “And then he did that, and people still didn’t care. It’s been seven years now of trying to get traditional Hollywood to pay attention.” (For the record, Spotify did, allegedly inking an eight-figure dealfor him to host video episodes of Distractible and other podcasts.)

Markiplier is considerably more diplomatic. “I’m trying to show people [in Hollywood] that there is a different way, but at the same time, I do understand the mistrust of some creators,” he tells THR, acknowledging it was daunting to leap from his own videos to large-scale productions, with crews in the hundreds, even for him, who had scaled up gradually. “A YouTuber going into that is used to doing everything themself, so to learn to both collaborate with others and to let go a little and trust those who are experts in their department, it’s tough — especially when you have a distributor or some production company overseeing it or paying for it who wants to have input. It’s hard, and YouTubers can be very egotistical.” (Though he was simply an actor-for-hire and not a creative engine on Edge of Sleep, Markiplier still managed to butt heads with his producers, including the time he insisted upon licensing and editing in a different opening theme song, which he ultimately did with his own money.)

Most in Markiplier’s situation would have cut their losses and moved on. He hardly needs Hollywood, after all. But he didn’t generate nearly 17 billion video views by doing what others would do. “And I have a desire to prove myself and prove that I can play at other people’s games just as well as they can,” he says. So, he and the team, which also includes Oddfellows’ Chris Ferguson and director Corey Adams, among others, decided to forgo the traditional route. Markiplier agreed to put up a portion of the financing, and figure out a distribution strategy later. On Kavanaugh Jones’ recommendation, New Regency was recruited to come aboard as the studio and foot the remainder of the bill.

So, with COVID-19 still raging, the cast and crew decamped to Vancouver in the summer of 2021. The shoot lasted 25 days across 35 different locations, a triumph given the protocols in place at the time. According to New Regency’s chairman and CEO Yariv Milchan, it was a bet worth taking. “New Regency has a history of recognizing potential where others haven’t. Projects like The Revenant and Bohemian Rhapsody had been overlooked for years, yet we saw their value and brought them to life,” he says via email, adding: “With The Edge of Sleep, we saw a different potential in the unique combination of the largely untapped creativity from Markiplier and his dedicated fanbase, along with the success of the original QCODE podcast. We were inspired by the challenge to create, together with Markiplier and QCODE, a series at the right budget while embracing innovative marketing approaches.” (Though everybody’s staying mum on said budget, it’s said to be a small fraction of a typical prestige drama.)

In 2023, with a nearly completed series, they took it out once more. This time, they did so with the first episode available for potential buyers to preview. Again, they were greeted with a succession of passes. Curtis, who’s also an executive producer on the project, isn’t even sure they bothered to open the link and sample it. “It was the same thing, ‘No.’ ‘No.’ ‘No.’ And that’s the point at which 99.9 percent of Hollywood quits, it’s over,” he says. “But we knew, with Mark, you have this special ingredient that people truly undervalue — and he’s a complete genius in marketing to his fans.” 

He was confident that Markiplier could and would activate his audience. After all, he’d seen him do it many times before. A few years back, for instance, Markiplier had a YouTube channel called Unus Annus (“One Year” in Latin), where he posted a new video every day for a year, culminating in a 12-hour live stream on day 365 that ended with him deleting the entire channel. At one point, Curtis says there were 1.3 million concurrent viewers watching; and, in 24 hours, he says Markiplier managed to sell $19 million of merchandise. “And that was something that we couldn’t pay people to write about or talk about. No one cared,” says Curtis, who acknowledges he has a chip on his shoulder on his client’s behalf. “I mean, there’s less than 50 people in the entire world who could do that. We’re talking, like, Taylor Swift, Kardashian type stuff.”

Last month, Hollywood finally got its taste for Markiplier’s power. Over on YouTube, his platform of choice, he released a video announcing that Edge of Sleep would be coming out in a matter of weeks. That video, which didn’t even tell people where they could watch the series, racked up 3.5 million views. Then, on Oct. 18, the full season dropped on Amazon Prime Video via the Prime Video Direct content submission portal — or, technically, it was uploaded a few days before, for quality control. Almost instantly, and without any real promotion, it had broken into the Prime Video’s Top 10, where it remained, hovering around No. 6 or 7 through the weekend.

By Friday, a trailer dropped on both QCODE and New Regency’s social media, and Prime Video posted a clip on its social channels. A paid media buy launched that day, too. Later that evening, Markiplier called an ��Emergency Meeting” of his fans, which turned into him hosting a three-hour livestream, during which he urged everyone to tune in and rate the series, as his goal now is to stay on the Top 10 TV chart for 30 days. In success, there will be a second season, and ideally distribution outside the U.S. According to the Amazon site, Content providers to Prime Video Direct receive 50 percent of net revenue for titles that are available to buy or rent. By Sunday, 1.2 million had checked out the livestream video just to hear him field questions about the making of the series, his first foray into scripted and dramatic TV. (He talked, too, about Iron Lung, a bloody film that he acts in and directs, for which he’s currently seeking a theatrical distributor.)

The irony of its success over on Prime Video, one of many platforms that passed on Edge of Sleep when it came through the traditional channels, is not lost on Markiplier or his rep. “We definitely want to break glass,” Curtis says. “We want people to pay attention to the fact that this guy who was told no over and over again is so powerful that he can launch a TV show to great success on his own.”

[sulumuns-dootah]

Celebrating Christmas w/ WHB demons

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Oh hey, something other than YfoH2 :D Since tomorrow starts the NSFW part of the event, I gotta show some love to all our other boys ♥

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan

Piggibacking off of the prompt I wrote for him last Christmas

I think it would be actually a funny idea to make Satan dress up as Santa

Buuuut since his lap is reserved to us, his people can ask to get hit instead

It might be better also to tell the other kings that this is happening othervise they might get concerned when suddenly a large number of demons fly all the way to their country

Sitri

Meanwhile Satan is happily hitting all his people, Sitri gets swept up in the whole organising part of things

Like, he's so busy he only got to ask to be hit three times :(

Another annoying thing is that the celebrations mean Amy is around, so he doesn't even get to enjoy the time he manages to take off

Amy

Amy and his group are in the town, just to make sure that everyone is safe

But they kinda just hang out in pubs and challenge random demonst to a drinking competition

Someone call Bimet, because the liquor bussines is booming at that time of year

Paimon

Poor baby Paimon is overtaken by the sheer amount of sponsorship offers due to their social media presence

The only good thign is that they get a lot of free things, so gifts for some less important people are taken care of

To help out Sitri, they also offer to buy all the presents he'd othervise have to come up with and buy himself

Leraye

This time of year is kinda empty for Leraye :(

So he's helping out where he can

Most of the time it's helping Paimon film all their hauls and reviews

Or he's helping to oversee the decoration process

Belial

If there's any cultural event, Belial will surely be there

Jjyu has the whole holidays off, so Belial prefers to stay at home othervise

When you go to visit him, he's most likely reading while listening to some classical music

Astaroth

Astaroth is the head overseer of the decoration group

Nobody's even sure how he got this post, but he's the only one who is able to voice his visions and how to achieve them so nobody complains

Problem is, that he doesn't actually acomplish much in the decorating department himself

So throughout the whole process, he's just reading his book and occasionally looks up to steer the others the right way

Zagan

The main decorator

He's the one to organise everyone, even without words

Other tha that, Zagan is usually seen somewhere, helping other demons learn a particular sport like skiing or ice skating

Ppyong

The second main decorator

Especially for placing thigs high up where no other demon can reach

It actually helps him to take his mind off asking Sitri about when he'll get to baking all those delicious sweets he always does

       ༺☆༻

Mammon

Mammon always looks forward to this time of year beacuse of the whole auction thing

Other than that, he doesn't really do much out of the ordinary

At least until you come around introduce him to bunch of new thigns from your own culture

Those things will then get added onto the list of things the country will now do every year form now on

Bimet

Shopping? Shopping! SHOPPING!

Ofc Bimet won't be spending his own money though...

Surely Mammon won't notice if Bimet buys an extra few gifts for himself while out buying gefts for all the other nobles

Eligos

Tartaros' main and only decoration conductor

Yes, he would wrap the whole country in a giant bow if he could

Oh, and during his off time, you can definitelly find him with Paimon in one of the holiday pop up cafés or stores

Valefor

If Bimet is out shopping, he always asks Valefor tog o wiht him to help him carry all the bags

Other than that, Valefor, like Zagan, likes to dos ome winter sports with other demons

Though, for Valefor, I imagine he likes hockey and other team sports rather than the individual ones

       ༺☆༻

Leviathan

For Leviathan there's no change

He doesn't leave his chambers and refuses to interact with anyone beside his nobles and you

Though, I feel like if he likes you enough, he will go out with you (if you sweet talk him enough)

Foras

The ever so busy, our poor baby U.U

All the nother nobles are so useless in all the organising that everything falls down on Foras

Somehow, he still manages to keep his sanity tho

Barbatos

From the beginning, Barbatos wanted to be in charge of decorations

But somehow, that led to everything being wrapped in chains of lights

Which is nice, but Bael had to talk to Levi that they need to turn the lights down bc Abyssos neons were barely visible in all that light pollution at night

(Some say that even the demons of Tartaros didn't see something glow as much as Hades that night)

Glasyalabolas

Glasya's paraphilia has nothing to do with the holidays, so he can't mess up anything, right? right?

nope

The cold weather outside gives him the best opportunity to clean and sanitise the Hades castle underground where his... partners rest...forever

There isn't much space in there so he has to move them all out and since Leviathan refuses to have them inside his castle halls like that, they have to be outside the castle

So he can only take them out when it's cold outside or they might start to... decompose...

Orias

Grandpa doesn't do Christmas or anything of that sort, so like usual he's either off, looking for another delicious angel soul

Or being a menace and making sure Leviathan is on the edge of his seat at all times

       ༺☆༻

Beelzebub

The gifts this man gives are 10/10

Along his travels, he always finds some cool stuff he randomly remembers you said you'd like to have

It's all fun and games until he's hauling a giant mf statue that's almost the size of your house

Bael

If Bael's in a festive mood, he grabs a few scraps of paper and makes a star out of it to put on top of the mountain of paperwork

Other that that, he doesn't really get merry that much since Beel gets merry enough for the both of them

You'll probably have to physically lock him out of his office to get him to do something else

Stolas

Very excited for the holidays actually

Sadly, to participate in most of the stuff he wants to, he has to wade through the crowds, which is easy to set him off

And his bird form is of no use in such situations, because it's usually too cold for his wings

Naberius

Similarly to Belial, Naberius chooses to stay at home and read a good book instead of participating in the mob insanity

And don't worry that he'll run out of things to read

That's what his huge home library is for

Amon

Cold weather is perfect for hibernating, which is perfect for Amon since Beel is never around

Even if Bael commands him to go look for Beel, you'll most likely see him snoozing away in some café

Only once Beel returns, Amon will try to join in on the festivities

       ༺☆༻

Asmodeus

One of his favorite traditions is going around through the whole prison and visiting each and every cell for a round or two of his presence

And yes, it doesn take a lot of time so he'spretty much busy the whole month and then some

But nobody in hell really complains about his presence

Ronove

Actually, I imagine the Abaddon demons have an orgy just like the angels one each of them have had their own fill of Asmodeus

And Ronove uses that distraction as a way to sneak out to find some unfortunate demons outside of the prison who have gotten injured while fighting angels

His usual journey leads him to Paradise Lost where he meets Glasyalabolas who's...

... on a similar mission, but to the PL morgue

Phenix

Phenix loves this time of year!

Both because of the orgy, but also if you check them out of the prison and take them to some public event

SO many different good-looking demons in one place!

Dantalian

This time of year is Dantalian's time to shine :)

The orgy always inevitably ends up into a bloodbath given the extreme kinks of its participants

If he were to die like this, he couldn't be more happier

       ༺☆༻

Belphegor

Our resident sleeper will also try to sleep all the hubbub away

The only way he'll notice it's the season of giving is when a fully decorated tree appears in the corner of his room

And also when Beleth barges into the room while carrying a bag of gifts from him subordinates

Beleth

A concept: Santa Beleth

And if you were extra good, he'll let you sit on his lap(but beware, that it's a bumpy seat and you might have to shift around a lot)

That's it

That's what I'm thinking about for the rest of the year

Gusion

Head organiser who honestly, hates that position

"No! Stop! You're hanging that thing at a 175° and not at 180° like I told you!"

This headache is not one of those that he enjoys

Hopefully resolving one of the unsolvable equations will make him feel better

Bathin

Officially, Bathin is the one to supervise the decorating process, but Gusion always steps in anyway bc something is not to his liking

So he's just reading texts from Stolas about how much he hates all these other demons that accidentally bumped into him in the crowd

He even had to quickly jump to Abyssos a few times to stop the small demon from shooting up a very busy area

Andrealphus

Similarly to Stolas though, the crowds are a nightmare for Andrealphus

It's so hard for him navigate such busy places plus it's easier for angels to hide in them

So instead he stays at home and watches some cartoons

Agares

Agares isn't one to really celebrate, unless it becomes a competition with Belphie

His subordinates even say that during that time he's the worst

Everything has to be even more perfect than normally

Vassago

Somehow, Vassago actually manages to fullfill every demand of Agares, no matter how insane it is

And he'll still have time to spend for himself

Maybe beacuse he's so used to his kings' insane requests all the time?

Vassago's decorating skills are 10/10 too

Everything he touches ends up looking amazing, but then Agares immediatelly swoops in saying that it was his idea and Vassago only followed his vision

       ༺☆༻

Lucifer

The longer he's in Hell, the more he is open to the idea of celebrating again

Sadly though, the decorations that can be put up are limited bc anythinig living can be a potential allergy trigger and finding a good-looking fake alternative is hard

Still, you'll be able to find some sort of decoration in every room

And every demons who visits the hospital in december gets a little bag with some sweet and small gift

Morax

Poor baby Morax doesn't really like leaving the hospital during the cold months of the year because of how many of his injuries react to the sudden drop in temperature

Instead, he preffers to stay in and enjoy his hobbies while not treating patients

Safe to say, most, if not all, patients and hospital staff get something crocheted/knitted each year from him

Gamigin

Ooh, Gamigin can't wait!

Every little thing exictes him

If you give him an advent callendar, he'll be over the moon and ecstatically telling everyone what he got that day

And don't even get me started on how loud an cheery he gets when he's finally able to open his gifts

Marbas

Just like all the other tall demons, Marbas is the one to be decorating everything

Lucifer even graciously allows him to be untied so he can actually move around

But give his interest in shibari, you already know that 80% of the decorating just involves wrapping something in ribbon, tinsel or something similar

Buer

Buer is tasked with picking out some relaxing festive music that plays in the hospital halls and movie selection for the inpatients

Well that, and holding Marbas back with his decorating wich would otherwise just turn the hospital into one giant ball of ribbon and tinsel

Other than that, he's also the one responsible for creating gifts for each patient

[pursuitseternal]

“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won’t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

[jinxhallows]

kinktober #o17 | glory

KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows glory (praise kink) || chan x fem!reader summary: you and chan met as volunteers for the local cabaret theatre, working as stagehands, but when it blossoms into something more, and the temperatures drop below freezing, chan figures out a way to warm you up, and fast... warnings: praise kink, and all that entails, plot heavy, fluffy, lots and lots of praise, 'daddy' petnames, non-idol AU

word count: 4k masterlist - click here

The first time he let it slip, you two were still just friends.

You both volunteered as stagehands at the downtown cabaret theater, and you had been sent out to purchase some last-minute supplies. Your coat was dripping wet over your arm from running through the rain, a shopping basket hooked in the crook of your opposite elbow, and you held the phone to your ear, spinning around to decipher the location of the checkout.

"Did you get the safety pins?" Chan's voice came through the phone.

You nodded, even though Chan couldn't see you. "Yeah."

"And-"

"I also got the glue gun sticks, an extra pack of AA batteries, and a small can of black acrylic paint," you rattled off.

"Good girl," Chan responded, genuinely impressed.

At the time, he had no idea that his words had a much different impact on you than he could have ever imagined. The idea of him praising you under very different circumstances had ignited a fire within you, one you couldn't ignore.

The season progressed and Chan worked up the courage to ask you out for drinks and now you two are barely two months into a very new relationship. Still working together, now as hired staff seasonally, at the cabaret theatre, you two are now working together on helping out with the production of A Christmas Carol.  It’s two months until showtime, so you’re in the thick of things, managing a team of stage designers. Chan is managing the costume department and overseeing music direction. He has a brief gap between meetings, so he decides to surprise you by grabbing your favorite drink and muffin from the local coffee shop. After leaving a generous tip in the paper cup at the front of the register, he heads back to the theater through the brisk winter cold.

Chan enters the theater's workshop, finding you in your office. He closes the door behind him, greets you with a kiss and your drink, and then takes off his coat. As he hangs it on the nearby coat rack, you take a sip of the drink, savoring the warm, spicy flavors of your favorite spiced winter beverage. Opening the small, white paper bag, you take out your favorite muffin. "I needed this so badly. I was late this morning and couldn't grab breakfast."

"Why didn't you call? You know I could've picked you up," Chan says, sitting on the edge of your desk as you ease into your chair. You blow on your drink, preparing it for a sip. "Your car's been in the shop for weeks now. Any word on what's going on with it?"

You pause for a moment, taking a sip of your drink as you ponder how to address the issue. You've been avoiding Chan's questions about your mode of transportation since receiving the bad news. You're hesitant to reveal that you don't have everything under control, fearing it might push Chan away. After swallowing, you gather your thoughts and finally speak up.

"It's gonna be a while," you say, your voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

At this point, Chan has confirmed his suspicion that you're intentionally keeping this information from him. He nods, taking in your response, and glances at his watch. Fiddling with one of its links, he contemplates whether you've been together long enough for him to press you about these matters. He doesn't want to start an argument or intrude on your privacy, but he's genuinely concerned, especially with the weather getting colder and the distance you live from the theatre.

"That... doesn't sound good," Chan finally says, after you've taken another sip, looking back at you. You can feel the hesitation in his words and sense that he's holding something back. Your fingers nervously tap against your cup in an unknown rhythm that's stuck in your head. "Yeah, the engine, it's kind of... shot," you say, tapping the cup at a higher tempo. You find the lid of your cup more interesting than Chan's attempt to hide his shock. He knows he's not great at concealing his emotions, and he clears his throat, suddenly fascinated by his watch.

"Wow, that's... I'm sorry to hear that. Engine troubles can be expensive. You know if you need any help at all—"

"I'm just getting another car. I've been looking, but I haven't had the time yet, especially with the production coming up, so I've been taking the trains. I'm okay, though, Chan, really," you reassure him. Setting your cup down, you interlock your fingers, resting your chin on them, and offer him a disarming smile.

"Since you've had time to come visit me, I'm guessing you're ahead of schedule?" you inquire, relieved when you see his focus shift, steering the conversation in a different direction. 

For now, you've evaded his questions again.

"Like a well-oiled machine. In fact, there's a little bit left over in the budget to get the fog machine fixed."

"Chan!" you laugh, "How did you manage that?"

"A few people owed me a few favors. I know how much you wanted to give those Ghost of Christmas Future scenes more ambiance." Chan embraces you, and you eagerly rush into his open arms, hugging him tightly, the scent of his shampoo and cologne filling your senses. When you let go, he slowly turns you around in his embrace, his arms encircling your body, your back against his chest.

"Thank you for this. Oh, Hailey will be so excited to hear this, and Thomas, we'll have to space out the set for Act Three, but that's no problem. I—" You stop yourself, your hand on your forehead as you catch yourself from rambling again. Chan loves seeing you excited like this, so he never stops you during your enthusiastic outbursts. You turn around, your arms resting on his shoulders, and you kiss him, expressing your gratitude with a hundred silent thank-yous.

Chan finds the courage to speak out, his hands gently resting along your waist. "Please let me give you a ride, at least to and from here. You live outside the city, and I'd feel better knowing you're safe in this cold." He anticipates a rebuttal and adds, "Just for the cabaret. Whatever else you do is your business, but if you did need me for other rides, I'd be up for it—just needed to get that out there," nodding affirmatively to you and himself.

You decide to accept his offer this time. You had guessed wrong; it had never left his mind the entire time.

"Fine," you roll your eyes with a small smirk, "I just know you live in the city, and that's out of your way."

"It's not, honest," Chan stands up and leans forward, kissing your forehead. "You're really special to me." With a smile, he heads out and adds, "I'll meet you in the lobby after rehearsal."

"You're really special to me..."

Those words reverberate in your mind for the next four hours of work. They're louder than the hammering of nails into wooden boards, louder than saws cutting through plywood, and even louder than the timpanis in the orchestra pit.

As you work, your head down while distressing the paint on the side of a fake building, you can hear Chan stopping and starting the musicians, going over pieces meticulously. It's hard not to lock eyes with him when he glances over at you occasionally.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan is entranced by the way you bring a vision to life, ingeniously assembling pieces that leave him baffled. He observes you walking among other stagehands, adeptly adjusting a streetlamp, your gloved hands confidently resting on your hips, toolbelt hanging down. You point, shake your head, and oversee adjustments, stepping back and tilting your head, scrutinizing it from various angles before granting it a thumbs-up.

Every so often, you cast an inconspicuous glance over your shoulder, but Chan has already shifted his focus long enough to deceive you into thinking he wasn't watching. He splits his attention between you and the piano, directing the musicians, a sight he relishes.

At one point, a designer stands beside the piano with a partially costumed actor, waiting for the right moment to approach Chan. The designer holds up a piece of velvet red fabric against the navy blue costume.

"Was thinking maybe this material?" the stylist asks.

"Nah, not really, the blue is better against the gold buttons," Chan nods, providing his expert opinion.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Thomas' voice teases, breaking your focus and startling you from your reverie.

"Oldest one in the book. And corniest," you quip back.

"Don't do it, boo. I'd be distracted if Chan were mine too," Thomas remarks, and you both sneak another glance in Chan's direction. "He is a delicious piece of sweet potato pie, ain't he?"

You nudge Thomas playfully, and both of you head backstage.

As the day concludes, everyone gathers around for announcements and updates from the director. Afterward, people begin to disperse. You're embraced by hugs from Thomas and other crew members who've become like family. The holiday break is upon you, and some are leaving town to enjoy their vacation. The lobby teems with people, and amid the crowd, you spot Chan. You hear him chatting with others, and as he finishes, his expression brightens as he spots you.

You’re really special to me… You give Chan a warm hug. It's cozy inside, a welcome refuge from the cold winter winds outside.

"Ready?" he asks with a grin.

You nod, and together, you make your way to the exit. The bitter cold greets you as you step outside, and the wind feels like needles on your exposed cheeks. You tug your scarf up around your nose to protect yourself from the icy gusts. Chan holds you even closer as you both step out into the open, and he opens the passenger door of his nearby parked car.

The car's interior offers immediate warmth, and you welcome it with relief. Chan yawns as the silence settles in around you. He had a busy but good day, and now he's just as eager to hear about yours, especially after getting lost in watching you do your thing.

"Are you sure you wanna do this? Like, drive me all the way home?" you ask, your voice tinged with doubt.

"Yes, I want to drive you all the way home," Chan says with a chuckle. He starts the car, shifting it into reverse to back out of the parking space. "And then I want to walk you all the way to your door, and then I want to kiss you, like we're a couple of teenagers from the fifties."

You laugh at his sweet sentiment.

"I'm serious! You make this relationship thing feel like it's worth something, like it's something I can do... forever," Chan says. He starts to feel a little self-conscious about gushing and quickly dials it back. "You're just... really special to me." There it is again.

"Chan," you begin, and there's a moment of hesitation.

"Yeah?" Chan's gaze remains fixed on the road, but he's eager to hear your words.

"I love you," you say, surprising both yourself and him with the sudden confession.

Each quiet second Chan spends frozen on the road ahead makes you want to backpedal.  It’s too soon.  Are you dumb? He’s gonna think you’re crazy.  It’s not even three months yet.

“I love you too.” He says, and it comes out like his own kind of word vomit, at the tail end of his ruminating thoughts of whether or not you actually meant your statement.  Then he guilts himself for doubting the expression of your feelings. Chan would just like to get out of his own head for thirty seconds.

"Ok, now that that's settled," you say, your humor helping to break the tension, and you settle into your seat with a sigh. "I'm sorry I get so weird about you helping me sometimes. I just feel like you have your shit together, and I'm still trying to figure it all out. I know you didn't sign up to get a girlfriend with a bunch of problems—baggage."

Chan snorts, a mixture of amusement and relief. He's glad to hear that this is what's been on your mind, that you've been carrying a self-imposed burden. He appreciates the vulnerability in your words. Sometimes he needs to feel needed, especially in a relationship.

"I'm not sure what your definition of having my shit together is, but this version of me, isn't it," he says with a smile. "I didn't sign up for a girlfriend with a perfect life. I signed up for Y/N, and all that comes with her. How dare you short me the fries to my combo?"

You both share a laugh, and as the car settles into the quiet hum of the engine, you notice snow falling and sticking to the slushy roads as you leave the city behind and enter the suburbs. You check the weather forecast on your phone, prompting you to speak up.

"There's a frost advisory tonight, love," you muse. "You think you should stay over tonight? The roads are gonna be awful."

Chan hadn't planned on it, but he realizes he has nothing urgent to rush home to, and he's getting pretty tired too.

"Good idea."

It takes another thirty minutes, but soon, Chan is pulling into your driveway, turning off the car and walking you to your door just as he said he would. He waits patiently next to you, his hands warming in his pockets as he looks around at the snow falling and piling up, covering the black streets in blinding white reflected against the streetlights.

It's a perfect night to snuggle with a special someone.

You turn on the music, an old Aqualung album filling the former silence, making the blanket of white outside look even more magical. You had never found yourself enjoying the quiet company of another until you started dating Chan. It's a new experience for both of you since you can get lost in conversation for hours. But with Chan, there's no pressure to keep coming up with new topics. It's one of the many reasons why he enjoys your company. He can just be himself around you.

You come over to join Chan as he sits on the floor against the couch. He initially begins to unfold his crossed legs to make room for you, but you extend a leg over his, straddling him instead, holding two cups of hot cocoa in your hands.

"Oh, well hello, beautiful," he chuckles, taking one of the mugs from you.

The way he says it makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but tease him. You sip your drink, looking at him with a mischievous gaze. "There's just something about the way you say those things to me."

"What things, baby?" Chan asks, playing along. He knows what you mean, but he loves hearing it from you. "When I tell you how pretty you are? How I get caught staring at you at work at least five times a day by the other volunteers?"

You can't contain your giggles, and he takes your mug and his, placing them on the coffee table as he cups your face. "I can feel how hot your cheeks are getting too."

"Because!"

"Because why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't list every reason why I've fallen in love with you to your face."

You bite your lip, realizing Chan's winning the playful banter. He holds onto your hips, shifting himself underneath you and readjusting, all while focusing on being romantic rather than all the nasty things he wants to do to you with you straddling him like this.

He kisses you, gently at first, and then more passionately. "For one, you are beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that..." You notice the drop in Chan's volume and the edge his tone gains, making you crave him in ways you haven’t been able t0 have him yet. “I like that.” “Yeah?  You do? You should, ‘cause you’re a pretty girl, my pretty girl of course.” Chan's eyes linger on your lips, and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a single kiss that leaves both of you lingering, breathing heavily, your faces close.

"Call me your pretty girl again, and you might start something you can't finish."

"Who says I can't finish it, pretty girl?" Chan counters with a sly smile, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Chan is the next to initiate another kiss, drawing you into a passionate embrace. His hands trail up the bare skin of your back, hidden beneath your hoodie, leaving a trail of sinfire in their wake. You lean your head back with a gasp as he hums against your neck.

"Listen to those breaths you take, so sweet for me," Chan says, eager to hear more of your reactions. He sucks hard enough to leave a bruise under your collarbone, making you gasp in response.

"Oh my God, Chan, I—" You start to express concern, but the juxtaposition of his arousal and your own, both concealed beneath clothing, interrupts your common sense. He shouldn't be marking you up like this. You realize you'll need to wear a turtleneck or a collared shirt to cover your collarbone.  “B-Be careful-”

"I'm sorry, baby. You're just so intoxicating, you know that?" Chan manages to peel himself away from devouring you for a brief moment, a feat that takes immense self-control. "And you have the most adorable smile."

You try to hide your smile, but he pulls your arm away. "No, let me see it. Look at how you get when I compliment you. I can't tell if you love it or hate it, but it's damn hot seeing you get all shy like this. Makes me want to say more, see how else your body responds to me."

"I think it's turning me on," you admit, your voice slightly shaky, and a coy smile forms on your lips.

“You think?” Chan states more than questions, running his nose and lips against your chest, peppering kisses up your neckline. He sucks again, leaving another mark, this time closer to your jaw. You moan in response, and he tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips bruise against his, swollen as he pulls back, looking up at you as if you were Aphrodite herself.

“Thank you, babygirl. I’m sorry I left a couple of marks.”

“It’s okay, you should leave a couple more.”

So Chan does just that.

You hold onto his neck as he moves forward, pressing you into the floor, lifting your hoodie up and sliding it over your arms so he can lay more open-mouthed, deliciously wet kisses down to your navel. He dips his tongue in, taking your piercing between his teeth. Your back arches, and he's going for your jeans, ready to unbutton them, but he stops, sitting up on his knees.

Chan knows if he goes any further, it would be akin to dragging him from quicksand.

He has to ask first.

“We’ve never gone this far,” Chan says, feeling somewhat awkward for not just outright asking you. You realize, of course, that you two haven't gone this far, but Chan wants to ensure you're comfortable. How much further are you willing to go? Chan can easily wrap things up right here, but the way you're writhing underneath his lips every time they press into your skin, leading further and further down south; Chan needs you to tell him otherwise. “I want to go further,” you say, your thumbs hooked into the top of your pants. “You told me you'd finish it, didn't you?”

You assist him in getting your bottoms off, and he nuzzles against the damp fabric of your panties, taking in your scent. “Had no idea you’d smell this amazing,” Chan says, pulling your panties aside to slip a finger in, curling it up. “You must really want me, hmm?”

“Mhm, I do.”

“Can you take more fingers, baby?” “Yeah, I can,” you nod fervently, vigorously, eager to feel him spread you further. Chan gets two more fingers inside of you, and he pulls the panties even further around your lips, leaning down to kiss and suck your clit. He enjoys the way his saliva catches the light as you buck your hips up.

“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen, babygirl. Are you going to let my cock feel it too?”

“Yes, please, daddy?”

Chan has to process the fact that you've called him this. He nearly short-circuits.

“You must want to be my good girl tonight,” he says as he pulls off his hoodie, tossing it aside and unbuttoning his pants.

“I'd give anything to be your good girl, Chan.”

“Anything?”

His fat cock slaps against your wet slit as he holds it firmly. “Anything.” you begin to twist your hips, attempting to grind in a way that will make him slide inside you. You're wet, it's spread everywhere, slicking your inner thighs and cheeks. All it takes is one good thrust, and he can –

“I want this, right here,” his firm taps stop you in place, and his eyes lock onto yours as he pushes his cockhead between your folds, stopping as soon as he's sheathed inside, feeling your walls begging for more. “You feel so wet, baby. Is this for me?” he asks, inching inside until he's halfway in. Chan wants to stop, but the sensation of your walls squeezing him proves to be too much, and he bottoms out inside of you.

“Yes!” You cry out, stronger and louder than you intended, spawning Chan to thrust again, rutting into you. He doesn't always go deep; in fact, he's stroking you at just the right angle to make you see stars as you drag your almond nails down his back, feeling his muscles tense under your touch.

“S-sorry,” you hiss, your head falling against the floor as you cum around his cock. “Keep it up, baby,” he encourages you, “You look so good taking me like this right now, so fucking good.”

"I-I look—"

His firm grip on the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck forces your gaze upwards, compelling you to meet his intense, smoldering eyes.

"Beautiful," he breathes as his thrusts take on a deliberate, measured pace. Each motion propels you closer to the precipice of another orgasm, and you can barely keep your eyes open. His hand presses flat against your head, angling it so you can witness the raw, primal connection between your two bodies. "You look beautiful, say it." You gasp and muster the strength to whisper, "Beautiful," as he introduces two of his fingers to your lips. You eagerly accept them, your tongue tantalizingly caressing the pads of his digits, still bearing traces of your earlier essence. He withdraws his fingers and expertly circles your clit with confident, steady pressure, evoking whimpering pleas from deep within you.

"Such a good girl," he praises with a low, smoky voice, pride lacing every word. "I'm so proud of you, baby. Can you cum again for me? I just wanna see that face one more time.” He wants to etch the vision of your blissed-out expression into the depths of his consciousness, ensuring it's the first thing he sees every morning as he awakens with thoughts of you.   Instinctively, you attempt to shield your contorted, furrowed brows with your hands, but Chan swiftly restrains your wrists, pinning them above your head with a powerful grip. His other hand intensifies its attentions to your clit, moving more vigorously.  He pairs this with shallow, accurate thrusts,each one striking your g-spot with unerring accuracy, causing you to unravel until you could think no more.  You’ve been fucked dumb, for the first time in your life.  As you gradually return to your senses, you struggle to find words or even make sense of how another human being can make you feel this extraordinary.

Amidst the haze of your post-orgasmic stupor, a lucid thought pierces through: sex is a potent, heady concoction, a force to be reckoned with.

Then, the second wave of awareness washes over you when you hear Chan's voice, close to your ear, whispering those two potent words, "Good girl." - fin

[melandrops]

AITA for being upset with my boyfriend for the position he put me in?

My boyfriend (M30s) and I(M30s) have been dating for a few months, but have known each other for a few years now. He was my supervisor in the archives department at a paranormal research institute (I don't want to name names and get in trouble, but you could probably guess which one it is) and I was an archival assistant.

Recently, my boyfriend's boss (the head of said institute) manipulated him into starting the apocalypse and changing the world as we know it. I want to make it clear that I don't blame him at all for this. I love my boyfriend and I know he never intended for this to happen. But he blames himself a lot, despite my best efforts to convince him that this wasn't his fault.

We were faced with a decision recently that would have fixed things. There were essentially two choices, which I'm going to try and present in an unbiased manner, though I have my opinions.

-We could kill our boss. However, this would require my boyfriend to take my boss's place as the arbiter of the dread power who oversees the apocalypse. My boyfriend would have been arguably in a worse position than ever before.

-We could flush out our boss (as well as all the other core fears of our new apocalypse) into an alternate dimension. However, we would have no idea who or what could be impacted by that.

Me, my boyfriend and a few of our coworkers ended up discussing it and putting it to a vote. We decided to go with the second option. My boyfriend wasn't happy with this (I think it's because he's got a bit of a martyr complex, but he insists that's not the reason.)

My boyfriend said that he would go along with the popular vote, but he ended up going behind my back to carry out the first option. I found him in the process of ascending into godhood, but was too late to stop it. I was PISSED OFF. Pissed off isn't strong enough. I was furious. Not only did he go behind my back, but he insisted on carrying out his stupid martyr complex.)

I gave him a thorough scolding and he ended up telling me to go through with the second plan anyway, despite the fact that he'd now become god anyway. He said that if I stabbed him while the powers were being released, there was a chance we could come out the other end happy. I did it, but I was NOT happy to do it. It had a really big impact on me to do that to my boyfriend, especially when it was all avoidable. I feel angry still, but also a little bad for feeling so angry. So...AITA?

Edit for context: At one point, my boyfriend promised me that he would never leave me if there was any other option. So this felt like an added betrayal on top of all that.

[odinsblog]

If you live in Georgia, please make sure to go vote today.

The ballot measures are fairly self-explanatory, but you also have equally important votes: Fani Willis, the DA prosecuting Trump, is up for reelection today.

And you have other Democrats running for office and judiciary seats, against Trump-loving Republicans who still openly support the January 6th insurrection.

And there are THIRTY ONE JUDGES on the ballot!

Vote for Robert Hillard Patillo, a Civil Rights Attorney running against Scot McAfee, the Kemp appointed judge overseeing the Trump trial.

Voting by itself isn’t the solution, but voting IS a necessary, yeah-you-gotta-do-it-every-fucking-time, part of the solution. Stated differently: your vote is necessary, but insufficient if you expect it to work miracles without local organizing and activism.

This post is way late, but the polls are open until 7pm. Please get out there and vote every single Republican candidate out of office.

• Find your polling place: https://www.fultoncountyga.gov/inside-fulton-county/fulton-county-departments/registration-and-elections/find-my-polling-site

• Your voting status: https://mvp.sos.ga.gov/s/

[rilakeila]

exchange of roses, teaser (jujutsu academy)

host club! jjk x fem!reader x ohshc

gojo satoru is the head of jujutsu academy's elite high school host club with his friends: geto suguru, nanami kento, itadori sukuna, shoko ieiri, haibara yu, and of course, their princess manager. what happens when they go up against another elite host club on an exchange event with different schools? let's find out!

a/n: haven't planned out if it's a series or collection of one shots, might do both; an au within an au would be fun. let me know if you have any ideas

international jujutsu technology and science academy is one of the world's largest elite private schools, having many campuses around the world. their founding campus is in tokyo, japan. their primary educational directions focuses on the development of technology and sciences. they cater from pre-k to high school (+ college prep). one of the most popular clubs is the high school's host club, where they get to entertain students with too much time on their hands

gojo satoru.

the founder of the said club is gojo satoru, head of the gojo clan who oversees gojo co, one of the oldest construction companies in the world. they focus on architecture specifically traditional japanese architecture. due to the modernizing of the world, they focused on implementing modern taste to the architecture to also maintain competitive in the industry. one of their main projects is upkeeping of the tokyo campus.

geto suguru.

the spokesman/vice president, geto suguru. he is part of the brains of the host club along with kento. the heir of the geto corporations that started their organization due to biochemistry long ago. earlier generations of his family had a massive breakthrough with their research which allowed them to catapult to the top. suguru is currently leading and overseeing the company's subgroup, uzumaki, which is helping the advancement of merging bioengineering within the company.

nanami kento.

the actual brains of the host club, nanami kento. he runs the numbers and makes sure that everything is running well with their princess manager. kento's family mainly function in the banking industry within the financial services but dabble in the investment industry. he still questions as to why he spends his free time (and exerting a lot of effort) with the host club.

itadori sukuna.

just a member/bodyguard of the host club (because he's a giant so he's intimidating), itadori sukuna. the last entering member (satoru was really just curious about sukuna and invited him with the group, ended up being wowed by his host skills). his family is a line of top chefs, selling cookware and cookbooks, and also runs the culinary department of jujutsu academy. (pretty popular probably because his little brother, yuuji, shows up every so often).

shoko ieiri.

here for the shits and giggles, shoko ieiri. her family consists of doctors and engineers which would lead into medical technology. she decided to go down the doctor route but will eventually need to replace her mother's position soon as she (her mother) would be retiring. ieiri joined the host club, just to accompany satoru and suguru, but has not minded the club activities since joining.

haibara yu.

here for the shits and giggles pt. 2, haibara yu (actually, kento asked him to take part of the host club with him). his family is one of the oldest toy manufacturers in japan, as well as branching out to confectioneryand theme parks (which have been successful endeavors). he also supplies all of the treats and tea imports for the host clubs, cutting down the expenses severely due to a large discount (but they do get new recipes sampled for free, just have to pay if they choose to keep it in their lineup)

(y/n) (l/n).

the dear princess manager of the host club. she works behind the scenes with the help of mostly kento but as well as suguru. her family is just old money rich, starting as medics way back during history. due to housing multiple patients and lost people, the business went from medical to hospitality. they moved around, dropping seeds down as they go. it eventually bloomed heavily, leaving a fortune. there's no rightful heir as her and her siblings must work together to figure it out (however, she seems to be the commander of it all)

[simply-ivanka]

Trump Team Should Fund Its Own Transition

The General Services Administration abused its role and spied on the president-elect in 2016.

Federal law provides the president-elect with millions of dollars for transition activities. Donald Trump should reject it.

Ever since 1963, candidates have accepted these services, and the General Services Administration—an independent government agency—has provided them in good faith. That is until Mr. Trump won in 2016.

Reports from Congress and the Justice Department Inspector General’s Office reveal that in 2016, government bureaucrats abused their role in the transition process to spy on and subvert the Trump operation.

The Presidential Transition Act of 1963 authorizes the General Services Administration to provide major candidates office space, administrative support and other services beginning after the party conventions. After the election, the agency also pays the winning candidate’s transition team’s payroll and travel expenses, and it facilitates agency briefings. As a condition of receiving this support, the transition team must agree to certain disclosure rules, ethics requirements and a $5,000 cap on private donations.

As detailed in a 2020 Senate report, the General Services Administration’s agreement with the 2016 Trump team specified that transition records “would not be retained.” Instead, “GSA officials—at the urging of the FBI and Office of the Special Counsel—nonetheless decided to preserve and disclose those records to various investigative entities, all while concealing these facts” from the Trump team.

The General Services Administration turned those records over to special counsel Robert Mueller without requiring any legal process, such as a subpoena or a warrant. In fact, the agency, of its own accord, contacted the Federal Bureau of Investigation to ask if it should preserve the records despite the explicit terms of the agreement outlining the opposite. Team Trump wasn’t told anything. When Trump officials later learned of the unauthorized preservation, the General Services Administration refused to provide copies of the records being retained and instead turned those records over to investigators.

A 2020 amendment to the Presidential Transition Act requires the General Services Administration to provide advance notice of any intention to deviate from the agreement, but that merely means the agency has to tell you when it’s going to break the agreement; it doesn’t bar it from happening.

The General Services Administration wasn’t the only guilty party. The FBI used the cover of transition briefings to investigate the campaign. The Justice Department’s Inspector General, for example, found that former FBI agent Peter Strzok sent another FBI agent to an intelligence briefing with Mr. Trump and Gen. Mike Flynn as part of an effort to build a Russia collusion case against them.

Given this history, it would be foolish for the Trump team to trust government transition resources again. Managing it alone wouldn’t be hard. The 2016 transition effort cost about $14 million, counting both General Services Administration and privately raised funds. Relieved of the private donation cap, millions could be raised from supporters such as Elon Musk who also could oversee IT security. Transition teams typically seek background checks on prospective appointees, but those aren’t required by statute, and the campaign is already considering hiring private firms to do the vetting instead.

Biden agency officials are hostile to Mr. Trump, so GSA-sponsored briefings from them are of limited value. Instead, the transition team should rely on annual budget submissions, which contain detailed information on agency operations. That would be supplemented by briefings arranged by the transition team featuring trusted prior or current officials.

Mr. Trump’s critics will say that by shunning General Services Administration’s support, he is skirting oversight, but the retort is simple: The trust is gone.

Mr. Huff has served as a lawyer in the Trump White House and the House and Senate judiciary committees.

[nerdygaymormon]

Below are excerpts from the article:

Steven E. Snow, the emeritus general authority and former historian for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is a bit of an outlier...the St. George native remains a staunch Democrat and a passionate environmentalist.

As the faith’s historian from 2012 to 2019, Snow is widely credited with helping bring openness and transparency to the church history department. He helped shepherd to completion the Gospel Topics essays, which tackled some of the thorniest of the faith’s historical and doctrinal issues.

Snow’s other signature achievements include overseeing the publication of the landmark Joseph Smith Papers and “Saints,” the new multivolume narrative history of the church. With Snow at the helm, the history department also took over supervision of church historical sites, where he placed a premium on education over proselytizing.

His beloved wife of 52 years, Phyllis, died from post-COVID-related issues eight months ago.

I didn’t always see eye to eye with all the brethren on environmental and political issues, but I can appreciate that. I tried to listen and be respectful of their points of view and understand them. I appreciate where they are coming from.

What did you think about the now-abandoned policy of not allowing the children of same-sex parents to be baptized?

I was surprised by the policy and was quite delighted when it was reversed. … I thought it was unnecessary, and I think it caused unnecessary hurt during the time it was in place. I was pleased to see President Russell M. Nelson revoke it.

How do you feel about the way the church addresses LGBTQ issues?

The church is trying. I’ve been really pleased with President Dallin Oaks’ and others’ efforts to try to find common ground. That’s why this recent action they took with regard to [transgender individuals in] the [General] Handbook seemed a little off, based on what they have been trying to do.

It’s a very difficult place for them to be. President Oaks continues to talk about gays in his General Conference talks. It’s as if he wants to draw a bright line that this is the way it is and there is not going to be a relaxing of that policy. It seems to me, that is what he’s trying [to articulate].

I have two gay granddaughters who have left the church. It causes me great sadness that we don’t have a place for everyone. They feel like there is nothing there for them.

How does environmentalism inform your faith?

We are given this beautiful planet upon which to live. As simple as I can state it, we should take care of it. We ought to make it a better place than when we came. We have to leave it in better shape, and we’re not doing that.