#writing these two has been… an experience

[florencemtrash]

Club Rats and Cigarettes: Part II

Azriel x Modern Reader

Summary: When Azriel stumbles into a new world with his brothers, the last thing he expects to find is a mate. But she has a hell of a way of making a first impression, and Azriel can't help but fall in love with someone who feels familiar in a strange world.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of drug use

Masterlist of Masterlists

Author's note: Y'all... I'm just trying to get back into writing after disappearing off the face of the earth... so here's part II! Y/n's cat is about to play a huge role in all of this

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Y/n had gone to bed hoping she’d been drugged at the club (that was the first and only time she would ever think such a thing). That alone might explain how she’d been persuaded to bring three grown men home, decorated with enough weapons to arm a small battalion. But perhaps it had all been some acid-laced dream and she would step outside her bedroom to the sight of an empty living room and a very disgruntled Jefferson at her heels. 

But alas, she had gone to bed sober, and woke up to two Illyrians passed out on the floor and one Shadowsinger thumbing through her bookshelf.

“What is this?” Cassian squatted in front of the microwave, nose pressed up against glass as his breakfast spun in lazy circles. Steam shot out from beneath saran wrap and he watched mesmerized as tingles of electricity sang through the air and set the hair on his neck alight. He could taste the energy on his tongue, along with leftover chicken tikka masala from the one Indian restaurant fifteen minutes away. 

Y/n shot him an odd glance from the kitchen table, pouring herself a cup of coffee with a sigh. It was becoming easier and easier to believe that they were from another world as they fawned over her kitchen appliances, beaten and used as they were. Just this morning, Rhys had taken an hour-long shower, content to stand beneath the assault of boiling hot water until his skin was red and spotted from heat. “I need this in the River House,” he’d declared with an air that spoke of royalty, standing in the hallway with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist. Y/n’s face had burned brighter than the sun and Azriel had growled so low Jefferson scowled and scampered away.

“It’s a microwave,” Y/n explained, rubbing at her temples.  

“What does it do?” Cassian opened the small door and hissed when the dish burned his fingertips. A common mistake — though he wouldn’t know that. 

“Heats up food. Pops popcorn. Blows up if you put metal in it.” 

Azriel grabbed his brother’s wrist before he could get any ideas about tossing a spoon into the microwave. “That was not an invitation to try,” Azriel hissed in warning. He was embarrassed enough about his conduct the night before. The last thing he needed was for one of his brothers to blow up his mate’s home. 

Cassian hummed in curiosity, shoving a spoonful of leftover takeout into his mouth and groaning at the taste. He sank into a plastic IKEA chair beside Y/n with a strangled sound of contentment. Nothing in Prythian tasted like this, and unlike the Human Lands, the food here had flavor to it, albeit of an artificial variety. 

Azriel was quick to fill up his plate. He didn’t want Y/n to stand up and offer him anything. Gods, he’d have a heart attack if she offered him so much as a teaspoon of sugar. He even managed to heat it up all by himself, fumbling with the buttons before finally setting the timer for 2 minutes, as she continued to eye him warily over her cup. 

He’d given her a sheath to accompany the knife he’d gifted her and she wore it now slung across her hip. It did not suit the sweatpants and old college t-shirt she wore, but she couldn’t deny she felt better with it close by. Soon he’d have to teach her how to use it properly. 

“If you really want to conduct that experiment, I could probably find a half-usable microwave down at the landfill for you to blow up.” 

Cassian’s eyes lit up with eagerness and Azriel scowled at him once more. Rhysand stalked into the kitchen, hair still dripping onto last night’s clothes. Violet eyes recklessly appraised her house, but if he was judging her 70s floral wallpaper dull with discoloration and time, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it. With a lazy flick of his wrists the stovetop burners lit up with a click and a flare of fire. First he applied his magic too strongly and the hiss of gas tinged the air. But after a strong-worded reprimand from Azriel, he tempered his control over the new, unfamiliar magic. 

Rhysand touched the flame without fear, capturing a flicker in his palms before letting it fizzle out. It was a strange magic the humans used. It touched everything without them even realizing that’s what it was. Y/n had used it to start her car the night before, and had used it this morning to brew her coffee and answer the flurry of messages that appeared on the little black box she carried everywhere. Rhysand couldn’t help but reflect on the strange world they’d arrived in once again. 

Azriel ate standing and Y/n sensed he was not one for relaxation. Constantly vigilant, the twisting of his shadows betrayed what his rock-still body did not. He was searching with his golden eyes, and Y/n found he was the one her eyes stuck to like a mouse on a glue trap. 

His nails were cut short and clean, but his hands were cracked, dry, and horribly scarred — his one and only glaring imperfection. He leaned casually against the wall, content to hide in the shadows of the fridge, but his jaw was clenched. He seemed like he was doing everything he could not to meet her gaze, but everytime she moved, his eyes followed her. Hands twitching by his side or against his breakfast plate as she twisted in her seat or poured another cup. 

“So,” she began carefully. The pouring of coffee splintered throughout the room. “What the fuck am I meant to do with you now?”

Rhysand chuckled, as if he too recognized the absurdity of the situation as he took the remaining chair at the table beside Jefferson and Cassian. Two Illyrians, a half-breed, a human, and her hideous feline companion. If only Feyre could see them now… 

The fat cat hissed, maw split open in a dark scowl. He leapt off his seat cushion, settling precariously in Y/n’s lap as he eyed his three victims. Just one taste. He reminded himself. And I will know their devices. It was the gift that had been bestowed upon him by Master. 

Normally, Jefferson the Cat would find an hour or two to disappear into the night and answer to Them, but the arrival of such dangerous guests had stolen that opportunity from him. He longed to slink into the darkness, to chase after the tendrils of power that lingered in the woods and to reveal all that he knew, for he was a good spy. But he was a better protector and could not bear to leave his Y/n in such horrific company. 

The three brothers looked at one another cautiously and Jefferson could only reflect on how they were so similar in their colorings, yet so different. 

“We don’t… we don’t have a plan.” Cassian admitted, finally giving his spoon a rest and rubbing the back of his neck. “We were hoping you might think of something.”

“Me?” 

“Elain told us there would be a Maker of some kind waiting here for us. Someone who could expect our arrival and arm us with what we need to defeat Koschei.”

Y/n scoffed. “That’s so fucking vague.” 

Rhysand smirked. “When considering interdimensional travel, what more could you expect?”

“So what’s stopping you from using your magic to find the Maker.” She wiggled her fingers in the air and Rhysand tried not to be offended. “Surely a High Lord or whatever you are is powerful enough to find him.” 

Rhysand’s expression soured. “The magic of this world is different from ours in a way that’s… interfering with our usual abilities.”

“Like?”

“Like how I can’t read your mind.” 

Y/n immediately reared back from Rhysand’s violet gaze, finding a patch of silver fur on Jefferson’s coat to distract herself with. “Well excuse me for finding that a relief.” Jefferson hummed in agreement, pushing his head into her open palm. “So your magic’s on the fritz and you’re stuck in an unfamiliar world with nothing but the name of “the Maker” to guide you home.”

“Do you know anything about him?” Rhysand leaned forward expectantly. 

Y/n remained unsmiling. “No. Sorry to disappoint. The uh… Maker is not someone I know personally.” 

He combed through his hair and somehow the strands fell perfectly back into place. It was annoying how handsome he was, like he belonged on the cover of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. Y/n blinked, suddenly glad that he couldn’t hear her thoughts. He seemed like the kind whose arrogance would scarf up a comment like that. 

“Anyone else you could direct us to? Lords, Ladies, Kings, and Queens, or—”

“Life doesn’t work that way here. We’ve all but done away with royalty.” 

“Then someone else. Whoever governs this place.” 

Y/n snorted. She gathered Jefferson in her arms and disappeared to her bedroom, reemerging with a slender tablet in her hands that she opened like a book. The screen glowed ominously before transforming into a host of words jumbled together. Azriel got a glimpse of the word “Google” before she was slamming her fingers on the keys faster than he could register. 

She showed them the man who governed this place — America, she called it — and all three frowned deeply. 

“I see.” Rhysand grumbled. 

Their disappointment did not go away when she showed them Congress. It got worse when she actually got around to explaining everything. 

“No gods?” Azriel asked. He leaned over her shoulder, one arm planted on the table so she could have turned around and kissed his stretched neck if she wanted to. 

“I mean… yes and no? We have gods, but it’s not exactly like we can speed dial them.” 

“What does—” He shook his head, “Nevermind.” 

Jefferson flicked his tail. Master was a god. Is a god. He put all his weight on his front paw, sinking it deep into Y/n’s stomach until she was grimacing in pain and lifting him into her arms. 

Jefferson eyed the curve of Azriel’s neck, claws inching forward out of his velvety paw when the doorbell rang. Then rang again.

Y/n swore, shuffling the Illyrians into the kitchen and out of sight of the front door before opening the peep hole.

Azriel snuck up behind her quiet as night, and slid a knife into her palm. “Just in case,” he murmured.

She startled at the heavy weight of the blade and looked at him incredulously, fighting to suppress a smile. “I’m not about to murder a Mormon. Now hide.” 

What’s a Mormon? Cassian mouthed. He held a broadsword in a loose grip, bouncing on his feet as he prepared for what may come. An uninvited guest was a threat, and Cassian was all too familiar with the kinds of dangers that liked to visit the homes of young women.

Azriel shrugged, joining his brothers around the corner and out of sight. 

“Hello!” A cheery, male voice called from just out of sight. Azriel couldn’t help but seethe. His hands twitched around the handle of his knife as the soapy, clean smell of the stranger invaded Y/n’s home. 

A thin, lanky frame stood straight as a needle in the doorway, crisp clean shirt and black tie decorating an otherwise bland and pale figure. Sandy blonde hair was brushed back from a freckled brow and framed a long face with a brilliantly white and straight smile. Azriel had never seen a human with teeth so uniform. 

“How are you doing today?” The male touched his hand to his chest, clutching a leather-bound book in the other, “I’m Brother—” 

“Hey,” Y/n dropped her voice low and sweet, “I have company over and can’t listen right now. Come again later?”

“Oh, I’m sorry I—” 

“Yes, yes, apology accepted.” She could hear the fake politeness in her own voice — plastic and lifeless. But she had more pressing concerns at the moment.  

She gently ushered the man down the walkway, watching carefully as he made his way down the street to the neighbor’s place before shutting the door with a definitive thud and declaring, “I need another coffee.” 

Azriel sprang forward, “Allow me.” There was an extra touch of eagerness to his voice. He snagged the empty coffee cup from the table before she could protest and poured her a cup adding in sugar and cream exactly to her liking. He even stirred his spoon the way she liked — three times counter clockwise, once clockwise, before tapping the lip of the mug twice. He’d been paying careful attention to her all morning, and it paid off when she took her first sip and realized, with shock, that it was perfect. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, closing her eyes and sighing. 

He tipped his head forward in the ghost of a bow, eyes catching on the swish of tail and acid-yellow silts narrowing in contempt at him as Jefferson wrapped around Y/n’s legs. Then the cat pounced. 

Jefferson leapt into Azriel’s arms with a howl, swiping at the Illyrian’s face and neck with vengeance. There was a flash of claws and a thin line of blood appeared on Azriel’s cheek. 

“JEFFERSON!” Y/n shouted. Azriel calmly held onto the cat’s thick torso, holding out the spitting creature at arms length as it writhed and screamed. “I’m so, so sorry.” Apologies continued to spill from your mouth as you hauled Jefferson away. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

The cat only hissed with his eyes locked firmly on the Shadowsinger. 

Azriel swore there was satisfaction in the cat’s gaze as Jefferson brought one paw up to his mouth and licked the drop of blood from his claws. 

Immediately the cat’s slitted eyes blew open until they were nearly black. 

Oh… Master would not like this. Beyond the Master, he did not like this. 

The cat began to whine, clawing at Y/n’s clothes like he was convinced she would abandon him. You cannot have her, Shadowsinger! He thought with venom. You cannot take her away! He meowed desperately, crawling into Y/n’s shirt through the neck hole. 

Rhysand cocked his head to the side, reaching out with his magic at the cat that was acting very un-cat-like. There was something there, some magic, clinging to the creature like a piece of armor. Rhysand could feel it wrapping around the beast, coiling and uncoiling and burning with light. Breathing.

“Y/n?” The High Lord asked carefully. The young woman was too busy soothing the beast to hear him the first time around. “Y/n.”  

“What?” 

“Where did you get that cat?” 

“Really, Rhys? That’s what you’re focused on right now?” Cassian scoffed, crossing his arms.

 “Please answer the question, darling.” 

Azriel and Y/n both frowned at the use of that pet name. 

“I got him the way most people get cats.” She shrugged, “I found him in the backyard.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I found him a week after my previous cat died. Jefferson was scratching at the window frame for hours until I finally woke up and let him inside. He’s been with me ever since.”  

“Interesting.” Rhysand poked at where Jefferson bulged under her shirt. If he didn’t know any better he would say Jefferson was protecting Y/n with his body, covering her heart with his own. “Could I see the cat please?” 

Reluctantly, Jefferson let Y/n pull him out of her shirt and present him to the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand held him loosely in the crook of his arm and pulled out a knife, pricking the tip of his pointer finger before presenting it to the cat. 

“No claws necessary.” He said as the cat took a tentative lick, then bit down for good measure. 

Y/n watched all of this with a mixture of fascination and detached horror as Cassian did the same. Jefferson licked his lips, regarding them with less suspicion and more disdain. He would need to go see Master. Now. He was in desperate need of revelation if he was to care for Y/n. But this time, he could rest easier knowing Y/n was in good hands. Although he only possessed the brain of a feline, incapable of grasping the enormity of a mating bond, he knew that so long as Y/n was with the Shadowsinger, she would be safe. At the very least she would not be the first to die. 

Jefferson jumped down Cassian’s arms with a firm kick to the warrior’s chest, slunk towards the front door and with startling dexterity, unlocked, then opened the door all on his own. 

“Jefferson…” 

The cat turned, tail high in the air like an antennae and meowed his goodbyes, blinking slowly at his charge. 

Fear not. He purred, although he knew Y/n was not so enlightened as to understand him. I will not leave you to these plebeians for long. 

He took off for the woods, his form warping and changing as he went. He seemed to grow, then shrink. His fur turning black, then gold, then back to silver. But before Y/n could fully comprehend what she was happening to her fucking cat, he melted into a beam of sunlight and flickered out of existence. 

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[nkplanet]

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

older!dean x fem!reader cw age gap, nsfw below cut (mdni), size kink (+ implied choking kink?), bunker era (think s9-10, so dean is 34-36 ish and reader is early to mid 20s), a little angsty in one or two places

notes my final assignment of first year is due in 12 hours. i wrote this instead. also i don’t usually write smut so if it’s shit dhmu

older!dean was hesitant to do anything with you at first. there’s thirteen years between you, and he’d always said it was too much, that he was too old for you. eventually, after months of teasing and flirting and god knows how many repetitions of “i know what i want, dean,” he’d grabbed your face and kissed you hard.

older!dean treats you like glass that he could break at any second. he’s gentle — gentler than he ever was with any other girl. he kisses your forehead, always has a gentle hand on you, and generally takes care of you. he cooks for you, wraps blankets around you when you fall asleep researching, and acts like the definition of a gentleman (to sam’s utter delight — the new material he’s gained to tease his brother with is endless).

older!dean shares his music with you. you call him old for it, and he makes a suggestive comment about you benefitting from his experience. he makes you a tape of songs he loves and catches you playing it in your room on more than one occasion. the two of you bond massively over music, with him showing you the rock he grew up with and you showing him newer stuff, like paramore. he’ll never admit that he thinks hayley williams is awesome, but you know.

older!dean hates taking you out on hunts. you met through hunting, and you’re a damn good hunter yourself (his words), but that will never stop him worrying. he’s protective, almost overwhelmingly so, on hunts, and you’ve had more than one biting argument about how he needs to let up. he promises he will some day, but you still see his eyes on you constantly. he needs to make sure you’re there, to make sure you’re safe.

older!dean loves to tease you with pet names to see how flustered he can make you. there are some he uses that are nice, and make you feel nice and warm inside, like angel and sweetheart. (darlin’ with his texan twang, always gets you blushing.) he tries to call you baby, but you veto it, stating the age difference as a reason. he tries to tease you, occasionally calling you kid and kiddo until you stop calling him honey and start only referring to him as old man.

older!dean absolutely loses it when you get hurt. you go on a hunt with sam, despite your boyfriend’s protests at getting left behind, and when sam calls as a heads up that you’re injured, he’s an anxious mess until you reach the bunker. you walk through the door bruised and a little bloodied, and he’s all over you. he doesn’t leave you alone, even after you’ve been cleaned up and ordered to rest by sam. he’s constantly touching you, either holding your hand or rubbing comforting circles on your hip. even when you heal he’s hesitant to let you out of his sight again, stating in the middle of a dark night while he holds you close that he can’t lose you.

things with older!dean start out soft and pretty vanilla, as he doesn’t want to push you or hurt you. he’s so caring and gentle with you, making sure you enjoy yourself and holding you close and making sure you finish first.

when older!dean finds out you’re just as freaky as he is, it’s over for you. he’s relentless, testing new things with you almost every night. youre sure you’ve tried every position by now, but dean’s favourite is a tossup between missionary, where he can watch your face as he all but pounds into you, and cowgirl, where he can watch as you tire yourself out on top of him (being able to see your tits bounce is also a bonus).

older!dean loves it when you suck him off but let’s be honest: he’s a huge munch. he’s eaten you out in more places than you can count, including (probably) every surface in the bunker, the backseat and driver’s seat of the impala, countless motel rooms and even a few diner restrooms.

older!dean has trouble letting you take control sometimes. he feels a little strange, given the age gap between you, but when you do get chance? he loves it. being completely under your control, letting you do whatever you want? it’s like a dream come true for him. but, despite how many times you start on top, it always ends with him snapping his hips up into you or flipping you over and finishing what you started.

older!dean loves it when he gets to see just how much bigger he is than you. when he can hold your waist and his hand seems to just dwarf you, or when he has you in his lap and his hands cover your hips completely. he especially loves watching as he takes you, and when his large hand wraps around your throat with just enough pressure for you to feel it.

regardless of how vanilla or how insane the sex is, older!dean never misses a second of aftercare. he’s always right there, with either a warm bath or a damp cloth depending on how tired you are. he’ll massage your thighs after they’re spent from riding him or comb out the tangles he made in your hair, whispering sweet nothings to you and holding you like you’re fragile because, to him, you are. even when he’s let you take the reins, he holds you close as you drift off to sleep, pressing gentle kisses on your face and tracing his hand down your back.

[mcrdvcks]

tum hi ho (you are the one)

summary: You take Logan to a family wedding, where he also gets to experience part of your culture.

word count: 5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: so... this is incredibly self-indulgent. i was trying to come up with ideas to write and then i had something pop into my head, "what if i took logan to a family wedding?"

it's a hell of a lot different than an american wedding, though not too different since they are incredibly americanized (at least the ones i've been to). so thus, this was born! enjoy reader taking logan to a family wedding and him trying indian food!

here are a few translations:

mone: boy

mole: girl

warnings/tags: reader is half white/half indian, reader has a younger brother, indian-american wedding, (southern) indian food

“All you need to do is look… nice.” You said, fixing Logan’s dress shirt collar. “Most of the guys—well, older guys—will be wearing kurtas. No one wears a suit.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, tugging uncomfortably at the collar you had just adjusted. “You could've warned me earlier, princess. I'm not exactly known for blendin' in at parties.”

“It's not a party,” you corrected gently, smoothing out a wrinkle along his shoulder. “It's a wedding. And I promise you'll be fine. They’ll love you.”

Logan snorted softly, a skeptical grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Right. A bunch of your distant relatives meeting your mutant boyfriend? Sure, what's not to love?”

You laughed, patting his chest playfully. “You know what I mean. They’re family. They're obligated to be nice. Besides, my dad’s already warmed everyone up, apparently.”

He raised his eyebrows again. “Your dad talkin’ me up, huh? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, I was surprised too,” you admitted, stepping back to admire your handiwork. The white button-down was perfectly tailored to Logan’s frame. You smiled appreciatively. “But he likes you. He thinks you're tough. And trustworthy. And he said you eat like a real Punjabi guy, so he's impressed.”

“Guess the ol’ man and I got somethin' in common after all,” Logan chuckled, relaxing slightly. “Does your mom have any pointers for me?”

You shook your head with a smirk. “Her exact words were ‘be yourself.’ But maybe... a less grumpy, slightly friendlier version of yourself.”

Logan sighed dramatically, feigning offense. “You callin’ me grumpy, sweetheart?”

“Not grumpy,” you corrected with a mischievous grin. “Just… intense.”

He leaned in closer, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You didn't seem to mind intense last night.”

You laughed, pushing him away lightly. “Behave. My dad's going to be there, remember?”

“Don't worry,” he assured, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'll be on my best behavior. For you.”

You looked up at him, softening as you met his warm eyes. “Thank you for doing this, Logan. I know it's not exactly your thing.”

He shrugged lightly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice dropping to a gentle rumble. “I’d do anything for you, doll. Even sittin’ through a three-hour wedding ceremony where I don't understand a word.”

You smiled warmly, sliding your hands along his chest. “You won't be the only one lost, trust me. Even I don't always know what's going on. Just smile, nod, and eat everything my aunties give you, and you'll be fine.”

“Eat everything, huh?” Logan asked with a grin. “Now that, sweetheart, is something I'm good at.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I'm serious, Logan. You're gonna get force-fed if you're not careful.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to your lips. “Sounds like my kinda challenge.”

---

The wedding reception was held in a large civic center. As soon as the doors opened, the smell of food and loud, overlapping talking washed over the two of you.

Logan paused in the doorway, eyebrows raised at the bustling scene before him. "You weren't kiddin' when you said your family was big."

"Technically, I think I'm related to maybe a quarter of these people," you admitted, scanning the crowded hall. "The rest are family friends, distant relatives, and people my dad probably hasn't seen since he was ten."

Logan let out a low whistle. "Well, darlin', you're already beatin' me. I can count my livin' relatives on exactly zero fingers."

You nudged him gently with your elbow. "You're part of my family now, remember? That automatically bumps you up by a few hundred."

He chuckled quietly, placing a warm hand at the small of your back as you both stepped into the lively hall. "Lucky me."

Almost immediately, your dad spotted you both from across the room and began waving enthusiastically. You laughed softly, raising your hand in acknowledgment. "Brace yourself. Here he comes."

Your dad reached you in seconds, grinning from ear to ear. "Y/N! Logan! Glad you made it. Come, come—I’ll introduce you."

He barely waited for a reply before guiding you through the throng of guests. You glanced back at Logan apologetically as your dad propelled you forward, but Logan just smirked and mouthed, "I'll survive."

Your dad stopped in front of a table crowded with smiling faces, all eyes turning curiously toward Logan.

"Everyone, this is Y/N's boyfriend, Logan. Logan, these are my cousins and their families."

Logan offered a polite nod and his best friendly smile, though you could tell he felt slightly out of his depth. "Nice to meet y'all."

An older woman with kind eyes and a warm smile immediately took his arm, guiding him gently toward an empty chair at the table. "Sit, sit! You must eat, mone."

Logan looked toward you for reassurance, eyebrows lifted. You laughed softly, nodding encouragement. "Go ahead, Logan. She's not going to take no for an answer."

He chuckled as he allowed himself to be led away, throwing you a playful glare. "Remind me again why I let you drag me here, princess?"

"Because you love me," you called back cheerfully, causing several relatives to chuckle good-naturedly around you.

Your dad watched Logan for a moment, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "He'll be fine, Y/N. Trust me."

"I know," you agreed warmly. "Thanks for prepping everyone."

Your dad shrugged modestly, eyes twinkling. "All I had to say was that he's tough, can handle spicy food, and makes you happy. That was enough."

You shook your head with a smile, watching as Logan cautiously accepted a plate heaped high with various dishes. "He's tougher than he looks. He'll survive."

Your dad squeezed your shoulder gently before wandering off to greet more guests, leaving you free to rescue Logan, who was now attempting to navigate the mountain of food he'd been handed.

You slid into the seat beside him, leaning in close with a grin. "How are you holding up?"

Logan glanced at you, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Not sure what half of this stuff is, doll, but it smells damn good."

You laughed, leaning closer to point at his plate. "That one's paneer, it's like cheese. That one's chicken tikka, and that's butter chicken."

"And the green one?" he asked skeptically.

"Palak paneer. Spinach and cheese. Trust me, it tastes better than it looks."

Logan smirked playfully, already scooping up a bite. "Long as it's edible, you won't hear any complaints from me."

You smiled fondly, watching him take a cautious bite. His eyes widened slightly, then softened with genuine appreciation. "Damn. That's actually pretty good."

"You sound surprised," you teased lightly.

He leaned closer, voice lowered conspiratorially. "Not surprised. Just didn't expect spinach to taste that good."

You laughed, resting your hand comfortably on his thigh under the table. "Stick with me, Logan. I'll expand your horizons."

Logan tilted his head slightly, regarding you warmly. "You already have, sweetheart."

You felt your cheeks warm, looking down shyly before meeting his eyes again. "You're turning into a real charmer tonight."

He shrugged lightly, a teasing glint in his gaze. "Maybe it's just the good food and the pretty girl sittin' next to me."

Your heart fluttered slightly, and you bit back a pleased smile. "Careful, Logan. Keep talking like that, and you'll start setting expectations around here."

He chuckled softly, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own. "Wouldn't wanna disappoint your family."

Someone, one of your dad’s cousins and her husband, came over to you. “Would you mind watching Olivia? Amber is throwing a bit of a tantrum, and we need to calm her down.”

You nodded immediately, smiling gently. "Of course. I'd be happy to."

They gave relieved smiles, handing off a sleepy-looking toddler dressed in a small pink and gold lehenga before quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Logan glanced at you, raising a curious eyebrow. "Got yourself a plus-one there, sweetheart?"

"Looks like it," you laughed softly, adjusting Olivia comfortably on your lap. She blinked at Logan sleepily, clearly sizing him up. "Olivia, this is Logan. Can you say hi?"

Olivia stared at him silently, thumb in her mouth, seemingly unamused. Logan grinned slowly, leaning closer and softening his voice. "Hey there, kid. Tough crowd, huh?"

Olivia continued her quiet observation, large brown eyes unwavering.

"Don’t take it personally," you teased Logan, shifting Olivia carefully so she was comfortable. "She barely talks to me either."

Logan shrugged easily, continuing to eat with one hand. "I get it. Big scary guy, unfamiliar face. It takes some getting used to."

You laughed, gently smoothing Olivia’s dark hair. "She'll warm up eventually."

As the reception continued around you, Logan’s plate slowly emptied. True to your predictions, every auntie who passed by checked to make sure he had eaten enough. Logan gave polite nods and grateful smiles, even taking a second helping of naan and butter chicken to their enthusiastic approval.

Olivia eventually began squirming, fussing quietly in your lap. You bounced her gently, whispering soft reassurances. "Hey, mole. Your mama will be right back, okay?"

But the toddler was not having it. Her soft whimpers turned quickly into a louder, tearful wail. Logan’s attention snapped to you, a look of mild panic flickering across his face. "You okay there, doll?"

"Yeah," you sighed, trying to comfort Olivia, who had fully started crying now. "She’s just missing her mom, I think."

"Here," Logan offered gently, holding out his arms. "Let me give it a shot."

You hesitated, uncertain, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you sure?"

He chuckled, eyes gentle. "I ain’t completely helpless, princess."

You carefully transferred Olivia to Logan’s broad arms, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest at the sight. Logan cradled the little girl gently, quietly shushing her in a soothing tone that made your heart flutter.

"Hey now, kiddo," Logan murmured softly, bouncing her lightly in his arms. "None of that. It ain’t so bad."

To your amazement, Olivia's cries quieted somewhat. She peered up at Logan through teary eyes, clearly confused by the unexpected stranger holding her.

"That’s it," Logan continued, voice gentle and low. "You’re alright."

You stared openly, unable to hide your soft smile. "You’re really good at that."

He glanced sideways at you, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve looked after plenty of young mutants back at the mansion. A toddler ain’t too different."

Your smile widened, watching him gently rock Olivia. She had now quieted entirely, sleepily snuggling against Logan’s chest.

Aunties around the table were already exchanging approving smiles and whispering appreciatively. You chuckled quietly, shaking your head. "Careful, Logan. Keep this up, and you'll be the star attraction."

He gave you a soft look, eyes warm as they met yours. "Long as I impress you, doll, I couldn't care less what anyone else thinks."

You felt your cheeks heat, heart skipping slightly at the quiet sincerity in his voice. You reached out to softly squeeze his knee beneath the table, unable to hide your pleased smile. "Consider me very impressed."

A comfortable silence settled between you as Logan continued to gently bounce Olivia, careful not to disturb her now-closed eyes. You found yourself leaning closer, lightly resting your head on his shoulder, taking in the tender sight of the notoriously tough Wolverine cradling a sleeping toddler.

"Maybe we should bring you to family functions more often," you teased quietly, eyes sparkling. "You seem to fit right in."

Logan grumbled quietly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "Don’t push your luck, sweetheart."

At that moment, Olivia’s parents finally returned, looking slightly frazzled but visibly relieved at the quiet, peaceful sight before them.

"Thank you so much," Olivia’s mom whispered gratefully, gently taking the sleeping child from Logan's careful grasp. "I see she warmed up to you. She hardly sleeps for anyone."

Logan shrugged lightly, shooting you a subtle, playful smirk. "Guess I got the magic touch."

Olivia’s parents exchanged smiles, warmly thanking you again before disappearing into the crowd. You nudged Logan softly, smiling. "Magic touch, huh?"

He chuckled, wrapping a casual arm around your shoulders and pulling you close against his side. "You know it, princess."

You relaxed against him, feeling strangely content amidst the noise and chaos of the crowded hall. Logan’s steady presence beside you was comforting, reassuring.

Then, your dad and mom, along with a few others, walked over to you and Logan. “Ah! Look at you! You’ve grown up so much.” They said something else, but you couldn’t understand what.

Your dad chimed in, “this is my uncle. He asked if you’ve gotten any mango lassi or idli.”

Your great-uncle smiled warmly at you, speaking again in rapid Malayalam. You glanced helplessly at your dad, who chuckled softly.

"He said he remembers how much you loved idli when you were little," your dad translated patiently.

"Oh!" you said, brightening instantly as memories flashed back. "Yeah, I still love idli. It's one of my favorites."

Your great-uncle nodded enthusiastically, clearly pleased by your reaction. He turned to Logan, speaking again in Malayalam with a welcoming grin.

Logan raised his eyebrows slightly, giving you a questioning glance. You laughed gently, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

"He said he's glad you're here," your dad clarified, still smiling. "And he asked if you've tried mango lassi or idli yet."

Logan shook his head politely. "Haven’t gotten around to it yet, but it sounds like somethin' I shouldn't miss."

Your great-uncle nodded again approvingly, gesturing animatedly toward the tables laden with food. Your dad laughed softly, nodding along.

"He said you should both eat," your dad translated, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "And eat a lot. Especially the idli. He says it’s good luck at weddings."

"Then I guess we better not disappoint," Logan replied easily, giving your great-uncle a grateful nod.

You smiled warmly, leaning in slightly to whisper to Logan, "We should go grab some. Trust me, you'll love idli."

"Lead the way, princess," Logan murmured, sliding his hand warmly against the small of your back again.

You and Logan moved toward the buffet tables, weaving carefully through the bustling crowd. Logan kept a careful hand resting on your back, eyes alert as he navigated the unfamiliar setting.

"You really ate this stuff as a kid?" Logan asked curiously, examining the round white cakes as you reached the idli platter.

You nodded with an affectionate smile. “Apparently I really liked it as a kid. My mom even bought an idli maker so she could make it.”

Logan eyed the soft, round idlis carefully as he picked up one, clearly uncertain of exactly what to expect. “Looks like a fluffy hockey puck,” he muttered, glancing at you with mild amusement.

You laughed softly, reaching past him to spoon some sambar onto his plate. “Here. You have to eat it with this.”

He watched you carefully, eyebrows raised. “And this stuff is?”

“Sambar,” you clarified with a patient grin. “Kind of like vegetable stew, but spicy and tangy. You dip the idli in it.”

Logan made a small grunt of acknowledgment, placing another idli on his plate with cautious optimism. “If you liked it as a kid, it can’t be half bad.”

“Oh, careful there, Logan,” you teased softly, eyes sparkling playfully. “Trusting my childhood taste buds?”

“Never steered me wrong yet,” he answered lightly, glancing around before leaning in slightly, voice lowered teasingly. “Besides, even if it’s awful, I’ll pretend to like it for your uncle.”

You smiled warmly, nudging his shoulder affectionately. “You’re a good sport.”

He shrugged easily, walking with you toward an empty spot at a quieter table. “I said I’d survive, didn’t I?”

“You did,” you agreed, settling into your chair. “And you’re doing great.”

Logan picked up an idli, carefully dipping it into the sambar before hesitantly tasting it. You watched him closely, biting back an amused smile as his expression shifted from cautious curiosity to quiet appreciation.

“Well?” you prompted teasingly.

He swallowed thoughtfully, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Damn. It’s actually good.”

You laughed softly, leaning closer with an affectionate smile. “Told you.”

Logan glanced sideways at you, lips curving into a playful smirk. “Alright, princess. You win. Your childhood taste buds pass the test.”

You smiled warmly, taking a bite of your own idli as a comfortable silence settled between you. Logan continued to quietly enjoy the new dish, relaxing slightly as the chaotic background noise became a distant hum.

Your dad appeared suddenly beside your table, smiling fondly as he observed the two of you together. “You both enjoying yourselves?”

You nodded happily, gesturing to Logan’s plate. “He’s officially a fan of idli.”

Your dad chuckled appreciatively, shooting Logan an approving nod. “Good choice. Idli is always a safe bet.”

Logan grinned lightly, setting down his fork. “Still got that mango lassi to try, though.”

Your dad raised his eyebrows with exaggerated seriousness. “Now, that you absolutely cannot skip. It’s mandatory at every wedding.”

Logan glanced at you with mild amusement. “Mandatory, huh? Guess I better get to it, then.”

Your dad patted Logan lightly on the shoulder, warmth clear in his expression. “I’ll grab a couple glasses for you two. Enjoy yourselves.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, Logan leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you quietly.

“What?” you asked softly, feeling suddenly shy under his gentle gaze.

He shook his head with a quiet smile. “Nothin’, sweetheart. Just didn’t expect to feel so… welcome here.”

“Of course you’re welcome,” you murmured warmly, placing your hand lightly on his thigh. “Everyone loves you already.”

He snorted quietly, eyes twinkling. “Only because you bribed me with idli and sambar.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “No bribery necessary. You’re doing all the charm work yourself.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice gently. “Must be your good influence rubbin’ off on me, princess.”

Your heart fluttered, and you smiled softly. “Maybe it’s mutual.”

His eyes softened as he took your hand gently, thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles. “Maybe.”

You both turned at your dad’s return, smiling gratefully as he handed you each a tall, cold glass of mango lassi. Logan raised his glass with mock solemnity, eyes glinting mischievously. “To mandatory wedding drinks.”

You chuckled, clinking your glass lightly against his. “Cheers.”

Logan took a careful sip, pausing thoughtfully before raising his eyebrows appreciatively. “This is… damn good.”

Your dad laughed again, patting Logan’s shoulder proudly. “I knew you’d like it.”

“Careful, Dad,” you teased softly, taking your own sip of lassi. “You might spoil him.”

Your dad shrugged lightly, eyes warm with affection. “He’s part of the family now. It’s allowed.”

Logan shifted slightly beside you, a faint flush creeping across his usually confident expression. You squeezed his hand under the table reassuringly, giving him a warm glance.

As your dad wandered off again, Logan leaned toward you slightly, voice low. “He keeps sayin’ that like he means it.”

You smiled softly, eyes sincere as they met his. “He does. They all do. My dad doesn’t joke about family.”

Logan’s eyes softened further, a quiet warmth seeping into his gaze. He cleared his throat lightly, shifting a bit awkwardly. “Well, I… uh… appreciate that. Means a lot.”

You reached up, softly cupping his cheek. “You mean a lot. To me and to them. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He leaned subtly into your touch, eyes closing briefly before opening again to fix you with a gentle, affectionate stare. “Don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, doll.”

Your heart melted, and you smiled tenderly. “You’re just you. That’s more than enough.”

His mouth curled into a slow, genuine smile. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I might start thinkin’ I actually belong here.”

“You do,” you whispered softly, thumb gently brushing against his jawline. “You absolutely belong here. With me.”

Logan took a slow breath, something vulnerable flickering briefly across his features before his usual playful bravado returned. He tilted his head slightly, eyes twinkling. “Guess that settles it then. I’m officially keepin’ you.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head affectionately. “Oh? Glad we finally got that cleared up.”

He grinned softly, squeezing your hand lightly. “Me too, sweetheart.”

You leaned gently into his side, contentment spreading warmly through your chest as Logan’s arm wrapped comfortably around your shoulders. The joyful chaos of the reception carried on around you, but in that quiet, shared moment, nothing else mattered.

Then, your younger brother sat down next to you, tapping away on his phone. “What’re you doing?” You asked.

“I’m ordering food,” he mumbled, eyes still glued to his phone as he scrolled quickly through options.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “There’s literally mountains of food here, Jamie.”

He shrugged, not bothering to look up. “You know I don’t really like Indian food. There’s nothing for me here except naan, and I can’t eat just bread all night.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head affectionately. “Naan is delicious, though.”

Logan glanced at your brother curiously, smirking slightly. “You picky about food or somethin’?”

Jamie sighed dramatically, finally lifting his eyes from the screen to look at Logan with exaggerated patience. “Not picky. Just selective.”

Logan chuckled softly, giving you an amused glance. “Selective. Got it.”

You leaned closer, trying to peek at Jamie’s phone. “What are you ordering?”

“Pizza,” Jamie answered immediately, tilting the screen slightly so you could see. “Just cheese and pepperoni. Safe bet.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back casually in his chair with a teasing grin. “Guess not everyone’s brave enough for spinach hockey pucks, huh?”

You laughed, gently nudging Logan’s shoulder with your own. “Hey, don’t knock my childhood favorites.”

Jamie rolled his eyes lightly, tapping the screen again to finalize his order. “You two can have all the spinach hockey pucks you want. I’m sticking to my pizza.”

“Well, what about this?” You reached over to the middle of the table and grabbed a papad, “you like these.” You held it out to him as he grimaced.

“No.”

“No?” You broke off a small piece before shoving it in his face. “Eat it.”

Jamie scrunched his nose, leaning back to dodge your persistent hand. “Y/N, seriously—stop it.”

“Just one bite,” you insisted, laughing as you chased his reluctant movements. “You ate this all the time when you were little. You even ate it at Uncle James’ house like a year ago!”

Jamie gave you a pained expression, leaning dramatically away from the papad you were practically shoving at him. “Y/N, stop. I'm serious—this stuff is so weirdly crispy.”

Logan chuckled quietly beside you, watching the sibling interaction with obvious amusement. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as he observed the spectacle. “Kid’s got a point, princess. Maybe he just doesn’t wanna relive his childhood right now.”

You shot Logan a mock glare, but your lips twitched into a smile despite your best efforts. “He’s just being stubborn.”

“I am not stubborn,” Jamie argued indignantly, finally snatching the papad from your hand with exaggerated annoyance. “Fine. One bite. Happy now?”

“Very,” you replied smugly, grinning as Jamie took a reluctant nibble, his face twisting slightly as he chewed.

“It tastes exactly the way I remember,” he admitted grudgingly. “Like crispy nothing.”

Logan barked a laugh, shaking his head at Jamie's pained expression. “Guess you ain't impressed, kid.”

Jamie shrugged easily, placing the papad back onto your plate. “Not really my thing. You two can keep your weird, crispy food.”

“Your loss,” you laughed softly, crunching on the papad casually. “This stuff is great.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jamie sighed, returning to scrolling through his phone again. “Pizza’s on the way, by the way. Thirty minutes.”

“Make sure you actually leave enough room for cake,” you warned playfully. “Aunt Kavya spent days on it.”

Jamie rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I always have room for cake.”

Logan chuckled softly, glancing sideways at you with quiet amusement. “Kid’s got his priorities straight, doll.”

You smiled, resting your head lightly against Logan’s shoulder, your hand finding his under the table again. His fingers threaded easily with yours, gently squeezing your hand. The soft warmth of his palm against yours felt reassuring in the chaos around you.

“So, Jamie,” Logan said casually, leaning forward slightly with a teasing smirk. “Any pointers for a guy who's still tryin' to figure out your family?”

Jamie glanced up, finally giving Logan his full attention. His expression softened slightly as he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Honestly? Just smile, nod, and eat whatever someone puts on your plate.”

Logan gave you a pointed look, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Sounds suspiciously familiar.”

“See?” You grinned, elbowing him gently. “Told you I wasn't exaggerating.”

Jamie shrugged easily. “It works. And if you're stuck, just look like you're enjoying yourself, and they'll leave you alone.”

Logan chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Good advice, kid.”

Jamie’s phone vibrated suddenly, and he looked down, eyes lighting up in relief. “Pizza’s here already. That was fast.”

He stood quickly, pocketing his phone. “I'll be back.”

“Good luck out there,” you teased lightly, watching him slip through the crowd toward the exit.

Logan shook his head softly, eyes dancing with amusement. “He’s somethin’ else, isn't he?”

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed affectionately, smiling as Jamie disappeared from sight. “But I wouldn't trade him.”

“Didn’t think you would, doll,” Logan murmured warmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your temple. “Family seems important to you.”

You looked up at him, smiling gently. “It is.”

Logan hesitated slightly, his gaze quietly thoughtful. “Never really had that myself, y’know? At least not one that stuck around.”

“You do now,” you murmured firmly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Jamie might act aloof, but he already likes you. Dad clearly does too. Even Mom was talking about you earlier today. Face it, Logan, you're stuck with us.”

He chuckled softly, looking down at your intertwined fingers with a gentle smile. “Guess I can live with that.”

Before you could respond, an older woman appeared beside your table, beaming brightly at both of you. You vaguely recognized her face from family gatherings over the years, but you couldn't quite place her name.

“Beta,” she began warmly, her attention immediately drawn to Logan, “You’re not eating enough! You must try the gulab jamun—it's delicious.”

Logan blinked slightly, shooting you a subtle questioning look. You squeezed his hand again gently, leaning closer. “It's a dessert. Really sweet, but I think you'll like it.”

Logan smiled politely, turning back to the woman with a gracious nod. “Thank you, ma'am. I’ll be sure to try it.”

“Good, good,” she beamed, clearly satisfied with his polite acceptance. “You’re a very handsome young man. Y/N chose well.”

You felt your cheeks heat, and you ducked your head slightly in embarrassment. Logan glanced at you with a teasing smirk, his eyes sparkling. “Hear that, sweetheart? I’m handsome.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head affectionately. “Careful, Logan. Your ego's gonna start taking up space in the room.”

The older woman patted Logan affectionately on the shoulder, clearly amused by your interaction. “Very charming. Keep this one, mone.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Logan answered immediately, voice full of playful sincerity. “Ain't lettin' go anytime soon.”

The woman smiled warmly before wandering off to another table, satisfied with her matchmaking efforts.

You turned slightly toward Logan, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “Look at you, charming all the aunties.”

Logan chuckled quietly, shrugging slightly with a small smirk. “Guess I just got a knack for it.”

“Clearly,” you teased softly, eyes sparkling mischievously. “You sure you don't secretly enjoy all this attention?”

“Maybe just a little,” he admitted grudgingly, a playful glint in his eyes. “But don't go spreadin' that around.”

“Your secret's safe with me,” you murmured warmly, leaning in closer.

A gentle voice interrupted the two of you, and you looked up to see your uncle approaching, his son and daughter trailing behind him. He smiled warmly as he reached you, affectionately squeezing your shoulder.

“Y/N, Logan,” he greeted warmly, nodding toward Logan. “It's good to see you both.”

“You too, Uncle,” you replied sincerely, smiling at your younger cousins, who immediately gave you polite, slightly shy nods.

Your uncle gestured to Logan warmly. “You holding up alright, Logan? These big family gatherings can be overwhelming.”

Logan chuckled softly, nodding appreciatively. “So far, so good. Y/N's been a good guide.”

Your uncle laughed lightly, clearly pleased by Logan's easy answer. “Glad to hear it. And don't worry—you're family now. Anything you need, just ask.”

“Appreciate that,” Logan replied sincerely, relaxing visibly at your uncle's kind words. “Means a lot.”

Your uncle gave you a gentle, approving nod, clearly happy with Logan’s comfortable presence at your side. “I'll leave you two be. Just wanted to check in.”

“Thanks, Uncle,” you murmured warmly as he turned away, ushering your cousins toward another table.

You glanced up at Logan, noting the quiet warmth in his expression. “You doing alright?”

He smiled softly, eyes tender as they met yours. “Better than alright, doll.”

You leaned comfortably against him, warmth blooming softly in your chest. Logan’s arm tightened subtly around you, pulling you just a bit closer.

“You were right, princess,” Logan murmured softly, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “They really are a good bunch.”

You smiled contentedly, squeezing his hand gently. “Told you so.”

Logan chuckled quietly, shaking his head in amusement. “Should know better than to doubt you by now.”

“Exactly,” you teased softly, eyes bright with affection. “Stick with me, Logan, and I'll always steer you right.”

He gave you a warm, tender glance, his voice dropping to a soft rumble. “Trust me, sweetheart—I ain't goin' anywhere.”

You sighed contentedly, leaning your head comfortably against his shoulder, feeling perfectly at ease despite the joyful chaos around you. Logan's steady presence beside you felt solid, reassuring, and entirely right.

For tonight, you were happy just enjoying this moment together, knowing Logan had truly become part of your family.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"YOU CAN NOT MATCH THEIR FREAK

(Smut maybe kinda this ain't to deep but I just wanted to test the waters to see if I got that dog in me)

Many people think (including wb!readers partners) this is some kind of a prude—you back away when it comes to hugging, hell, you lean away when it comes to kissing. You get flustered over holding hands, and you get shy at hugging; they can feel your body shiver at the slightest touch. They start to think you’re touch-starved, but your friends do that stuff all the time, so why are you getting all shy when the manor is empty, and it's just you and them on your bedroom floor? Lack of partners, maybe? Your corner's first crush, lack of experience—Jaime's never been with a boy. You're insecure; Bart thinks you're the most beautiful girl to ever cross his eyes, but you’ve just never kissed anyone before. Cassie has never kissed a girl before; you’re both even. But really, they don't know how much of a freak you are—like, AT ALL. You paid five dollars for NSFW content from a dating sim, and you own the freakiest mangas you can get your grubby little hands on. You read and write the nastiest of smut; if they saw your freaky side, they wouldn't survive it—none of them.

You're hanging in your room with Bart. He starts to get nosy, looking at your manga collection. He sees a small compartment in the back hiding some more manga. He's thinking you didn't have any space, but lo and behold, it's something downright freaky: "Lady K and the Sick Man." He flips through a few pages, and by God, was it graphic! He didn't know the 21st century had this kind of stuff. And you owned physical copies. He’s blushing, skimming through the pages gently, imagining the two of you in these types of positions. His hands are getting clammy with sweat just at the thought of you getting off on this. God, you’re perverted, laying on your bed, breathing heavily, fingers dancing and teasing your clit as the posters on your wall stare at you, knowing how you really are when you’re all alone.

"Bart, stop snooping around; if you want to read some, I'll let you borrow them." His body is shocked when he hears your voice, but he doesn't drop the book. "So you're saying I can keep this, right, pretty girl?" You turn your head just to feel your stomach drop—you can't wiggle yourself out of this one. He's walking over to you slowly, stalking like a hyena to its prey. "Not so innocent, are you?" Jaime doesn't think it's fair that you act so shy, but he heard in your past relationships you were so open with your lovers, so out there, so handsy and grabby. With him, the two of you had a small kiss, and that was a stretch, because your first kiss was on Valentine's Day—corny, I know. You fell to your knees the moment your lips touched, but to take things slow is to take things easy; he can wait. No, he can't. Maybe you're hiding something in your sketchbook; you're always drawing in that thing. Maybe he'll find something that will give him answers.

So when you leave to go to the bathroom, he grabs your backpack and scavenges through it like a hungry raccoon, pulling out the notebook with the cute little sticker and faded paint on it. Time to know what's on your mind, and let's just say what's on your mind is him. It's filled with him and just him. He's never thought he looked so good in your eyes, never thought you saw him like this. The pride is kicking in. He lingers on every page until he finds "that one": a sketchy drawing of the two of you making out, bodies closer than he can ever imagine. It looks like a small comic with sketches of his pleasured reactions. The next one is a body spread page of you judging him in the most compromising positions— you behind him, kissing his neck as you played with an now-erased drawing of your hand on his cock, pulling the back of his long hair as the two of you kissed, and so many more. It's enough to make him go crazy! Is this what you've been hiding from—pushing him away for throwing pages in the trash can?

When you come to see the sketch, you tackle Jaime to the floor, flustered, trying to get it out of his hands. He holds it out of your reach as you sit on top of him; he can’t stop laughing, calling all kinds of perverted names. He throws the sketchbook across his room. You’re ready to get up, but he pulls on your hips, pulling you down on top of him. "I could always do a nude painting for you, cariño." He kisses your neck, and your body jolts. "Acting all shy when this is the kind of stuff you draw? I'll send you pictures if you need a reference," he teases. "Shut up! I just get curious!" You shout—way too curious.

You and Conner love musicals. You always have new bands for him to try out, and he's always finding new songs he wants you to put on your shared playlist. Whenever you play a song that is a little bit perverted or a little bit inappropriate—maybe a bit suggestive—you always seem to hold a straight face. But when you kiss, you can barely stand on your feet. Sometimes, you gatekeep songs with silly excuses: "It's for the girls" (lie), "Oh, it's in another language" (lie), "You just wouldn't get them like I do" (lie). But he won't bother you about it; if you don't want to tell him, don't tell him. He'll figure it out on his own. If there's one thing Tim taught him, it's that stalking is like research; you have to discover things no one has ever reached.

So, on his little mission to find out what you're listening to, he figured out a way to get into your Spotify. Nothing different—just a few new songs or more. They're not as bad or as underground as you; they were just regular songs, so why hide it? But this definitely wasn't what you were listening to. He had to up his game. Flying over to the manor, he was going to confront you until he heard a moan are you in pain. Oh god, he's flying to your window; your curtains were drawn. All he could see was the blue light from your laptop screen touching your face gently. He heard another moan; you were not in pain. He pressed himself closer to the window, seeing your headphones over your ears, your hand in your panties as you whimpered sweetly.

Oh, oh, OH. He didn't know you—wow, it's always the quiet ones, huh? His ears perked up hearing the sound of a guy groaning. Okay, you're definitely not listening to music. "Kon," you whined out as your fingers moved in imperfect circles. He's breathing heavily, feeling the fabric of his suit get tighter as he watches you tremble, struggling to keep your voice down. "Fuck...~" Okay, that's enough; he can't sit there and watch. He needs to help you, and you're going to help him. You hear a knock on your window; you whine, turning your head to the side and seeing those blue eyes. Oh god, he wasn't watching you, was he?

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

updated link because that one isn't working

The British Empire present in both stories [Black Sails and Our Flag Means Death] is depicted as an entity that is, at its worst, all-consuming barbarism and, at its best, all-consuming barbarism propped up by a veneer of civility. It’s an entity that not only destroys but warps reality around itself, reshaping history in its likeness.

In our present, queer people are once again being miscast as villains and boogeymen. In a way, Black Sails and Our Flag Means Death always dance on the edge of tragedy. Either they meet the same ends as their historical counterparts or we see the bittersweet truth of stories that are written out of history, their actions twisted into something evil. By giving that other perspective, by suggesting another account, these shows are a rallying cry for queer folk looking for their place in a world that doesn’t want them to exist at all — and a reminder to everyone who stands against us which side of history they’re on.

[soupcafe]

I have written and rewritten this post so many times after taking time to really gather my thoughts and sit with everything that has transpired in the last two weeks. If I'm being honest.. what has transpired the last three years of running the FindRPs server. Under the cut if you want to read. Warning: it's really fucking long. Sorry about it.

God I don't even know where to start, okay.

I have always tried to do my best to remain neutral in most situations and show a face of calm collection when it came to matters in the server. As a leader there, I believed that being anything other than that would only show instability of myself and on the rest of the staff. I always tried to make it known that I was willing to hear people out, and ready to enact changes if it felt like the right thing to do for the collective.

I don't know if that was the right choice to make, but it certainly felt like it for me, so that's how I ran things.. that's how I encouraged the rest of staff to run things. I've already said this to the former staff, but I have nothing but the highest respect for the hard work they put into that server. All of us were running that place for free, but it felt like a full time job with the way people treated us both on the server and here on tumblr.

Our goal was to provide a space for various platforms to advertise their rp groups, post 1x1s, post their resources, ask for help from their community, and more. FindRPs all started because tumblr tags became notoriously unreliable, group rps weren't able to mass fill their queues, sideblogs were being shadowbanned and deleted left and right. Why not streamline it into one easy hub? Why not make a place for a community? I've seen it said a few times now that we should have learned our lesson and not had any general chat or allow conversation at all. How fucking sad is that? In a hobby where the whole purpose is writing a story together... collaborating.... and you all can't even handle or have the civility to have a general chat.

I don't claim to have made all the right decisions, or to have said the right thing in a moments time. But things could so very quickly go from zero to one hundred there. Within minutes people would be at each other's throats and god forbid anyone on staff have a real life and not take care of it within seconds. I can't count how many times I was at work, or a family function, or a doctors office, and I get the ping that something happened but I can't deal with it right then and there. The anxiety of knowing that it will be talked about in the tags, and that if I or another staff member isn't online to take care of it right that second, we will get shit for letting it happen.

Isn't that insane? That I couldn't go about my daily life and do normal things without thinking about you all having no decorum and going after one another like children?

I was getting anxiety from not looking at the server for more than an hour or two. I don't know how in the world I thought I was going to be able to handle having a newborn and focusing on something that is going to be one of the most amazing experiences of my life, knowing that all of this would be in the back of my mind. It wouldn't be fair to my kid... to my family. And yeah... maybe that's me taking it too seriously. But when you dedicate three years of your life to this, and have been in this community on tumblr for as long as I have.. you fear the loss of it.

Don't even get me started on the lack of communication. Any blog that decided to let anons and rumors come into play and pass judgement on us with lies or half the story over the course of the server's activity... you all are complicit. No one ever came to us with their opinions and issues — the first thing that was on anyone's mind was which rpt blog can I go to. So instead of handling things like adults, you all hid behind anon and let someone else post it for you.

Because why attempt to make an actual change by speaking to us when you can just judge and bully us instead? No one ever said maybe they need some help and I should offer to join the team. But why would you... when you could see how we were being treated. When you were the one treating us that way.

Anytime something happened in that server, my inbox would fill with anon messages of death threats or otherwise inflammatory and cruel statements against me. I always deleted them and gave them no merit because what is some fucking anon going to do to me in my real life? Nothing.

This time though.. I was simply done with it. I was looking at the server, at my own happiness, at my own life and where I was being led, and decided that it simply wasn't worth it to subject myself and the rest of the staff to it any longer. All of us were preparing major life changes and were having conversations about possibly stepping down and handing the server off. I'm sorry that a few people decided to ruin it for the rest of you who never did anything wrong. I would have loved to hand over the reins to someone else and let FindRPs live on as the needed resource it was, but you all can make your own servers as you've said many times that you want to do. You can spend three years growing it to nearly 3k members of all rp backgrounds and life backgrounds and you can make your rules exactly how you want them and to deal with things exactly how you want to deal with them... I sincerely hope it thrives for you.

I'm going to call out a few specific blogs from this situation because you are directly complicit in the spreading of this. JJ (galitzined), Nan (nanschman), Xan (jimiin), Jas (snoopdoggs), Veda (nosyrpt), and fluoresceins. All of you decided that it was okay to bully. Several of you decided to say that I was subjecting Hermie, a Palestinian mod, to coexisting with zionists knowingly.. when it has always been the case that if they made themselves known we would ban them and Hermie would be the one to do it. We realized too late that we missed one glaringly obvious one and Hermie got the satisfaction of banning them before FindRPs was deleted for good.

All of us in our real lives are putting in the work to make change, you know, where it matters the most. Personally for myself, I involve myself in local and state politics and actively ensure that I am voting for representatives that align with Palestine or at the very least is not interested in supporting Israel. I donate to fundraisers when I am able. Not that I ever owed any of you a list of what I am doing... but I have always stood with Palestine. I fucking hate JKR, and was a moderator who voted to ban it in the initial rule change. (Love that some of you are trying to say I've been extremely active in the HP RPC and have proof because.... bitch where?) But you know... you all will spin anything to fit your narrative.

I said it many times that everyone on staff, every single one of us, was part of a marginalized group one way or another. Half of us were trans, more than half were people of color, I think literally all of us are queer. So you all decided that the best thing to do was to hurt members of your own communities, hurt the people that you claim to stand up for... that's incredibly telling about the kind of people you are.

Mar made a post recently that I think all of you need to read and take to heart. Many of us are so disheartened by the lack of change that we are seeing in the real world that going hard within a small community like the one here is where you can get your satisfaction — because it seems simple in a smaller space where you can watch change happen in real time. Mar put it really well, better than I ever could, so here is a link for you to read it yourself.

We are actively driving people away from this community. Some of them are warranted, but a majority of it is over the most petty bullshit that could be solved if we weren't so catty and quick to jump to conclusions.

Shadow, I do want to apologize to you. You did not lead to the downfall of this server, it was a long time coming. And I agreed with all of the resources you gave, I agree with wanting to educate someone. What I failed to communicate effectively, and I do take responsibility for this, is that you didn't need to do it publicly. You could have DM'd Lumos and taken care of it outside of the server, which is really all we were trying to say in that statement we made: why in the world are we having these conversations in the general chat of a rp advertisement server when you can just... talk to the person directly. Or I don't know... use the block button. All of you need to learn how to use that more. And you did already apologize for necro-ing it... but I believe you knew what you were doing there. Even on a laptop you had to scroll up to see the interaction with Lumos and there was no way you missed the timestamps. It was not the first time you decided to use a public space in the server to be mean to someone, so, I don't believe that you didn't know what you were doing there. Regardless of being correct in the information you were spreading, you were an asshole. We gave you a warning that the behavior wouldn't be tolerated and yet you continued to harass Lumos so consequences of your actions were to be banned. Not because of what you said or how you went about it, but because you didn't know when to stop.

I don't think Lumos has tumblr to see all of this, and I literally deleted everything from the server — I have no logs of anything that happened anymore. But we did rail into them. We told them that what they were saying was fucked up and they should read into the resources. All of us were talking about banning them anyways, but we wanted to take the time to think things through, to step away and sit with it and decide. Once again, God Forbid we handle things like adults and have real lives and think before acting, especially with all of you shouting into the tags about how we were handling it. They were getting death threats, both in their dms and out in the open in the general chat. Like what the fuck. Who in their right mind thinks that's an okay thing to do?

Anyway, we tended to handle things there privately. We preferred it that way because no one needs their dirty laundry aired out in front of 3k people, and have them weigh in on it while we're trying to handle things. Just because you didn't see anything happening on your end, doesn't mean things weren't happening behind the scenes. And screenshots are always a thing; we have never feared someone taking them for their records. I sent the screenshots to JJ because Shadow left out an entire part of the conversation. I didn't send it to "make ourselves look better" as Nan so lovingly put it. I did it for transparency.

Maybe we could have been more transparent over certain things, I don't know. But also.. some situations are simply none of anyone's business.

Anyway. It's gone now. I mourn the loss of something that I truly put my heart, soul, and tears into. I helped to provide a resource for the community who does not deserve it for free for three years of my life. I met some of the most amazing writers in there that I never would have crossed paths with if not for the server.

It's time to move on from the greater rpc for me though. I don't know if I am going to continue to be on this blog. I really don't have a desire to at this time. I do know I will be writing with my rp group and continue keeping in touch with others on discord. That's really why I'm not afraid to post all of this and let you all pick it apart. I simply don't care anymore. I'm a week away from my due date, and ready to take the step into motherhood. I'm so excited for it. My blood pressure certainly thanks me.

I urge you all to take a good hard look at how you interact with this community. I want you all to take a look at the complaints that are made all the time and have been for years now — of groups not surviving, of no one writing, of people feeling hopeless, or judged. You actively create this space. You truly want to be the change? Do better for the rpc then. Be kind, and if you can't do that, block and move on. The people you don't like and you don't agree with are going to be around for as long as they want to be anyway.

Best, Maeve.

[arrow-jsy]

Here Are My 100 DBDA IDEAS

As some of you may know, i started a list of all my ideas expecting to reach maybe 40? And well i was at 40 by the time i finished going through some old tumblr posts. And then i kinda kept having an idea or two (or 3 or 5) a day and here we are. i dont think i will ever write all of these, lets be real the list is going to keep growing, but i have no intention of writing some of these but i had the thought so i wrote it down

this is a long post friends

IF YOU SEE AN IDEA YOU LIKE FEEL FREE TO TAKE IT AS INSPIRATION BUT PLEASE TAG ME WHEN YOU POST IT, not because i want credit but because id love to read it <3

The numbers are what they are on the list, mostly in order of when i had the idea but a few are old ideas i remembered. But for reading convenience i organized them a bit, categories are loosy goosey but there was an effort

Posted ideas

1. Ghosthunting AU

3. Mechanic AU

38. Charles gets a teddy bear

39. Charles under a love potion 100. (actually the first fic i wrote for this fandom but i havent thought about it in so long) Monty's first bit as a human

Kinda Canon Compliant

2. Charles gets stuck in a mirror learning to mirror hop

4. Gladys isnt a made up character for episode 6

5. Esther's Backstory

12. Post s1 with Jenny being able to see ghosts, she sees her parents

13. NN tries to teach Charles manners (hes so adhd)

14. The boys first night together (and as ghosts)

27. Mick takes Monty in after Esther dies

49. Edwin cant orb beacuse of his experience in Hell

Not Really Canon Compliant

46. Charles has never been on a date

57. Monty is a vulture instead of a crow

68. Esther is Edwin's mom

89. Edwin has glasses (with the little hanging chains)

Media AUs (musicals and movies)

11. Monty Tangled AU

19. Newsies (musical) AU

20. Wicked AU

21. The Grear Gatsby (musical) AU

24. LOTR AU

33. Huntchback of Notre Dame (musical not disney movie) AU

37. Princess Bride AU

45. Adjustment Bureau AU

51. Bonnie and Clyde (musical) AU

52. Palaski Howls Moving Castle AU

53. Paynland Les Mis AU

61. Tinkerbell AU

64. Beetlejuice AU

65. Spirited Away AU

66. Nonstop & Hurricane (from Hamilton) Edwin in Hell/with his journal au?

71. Payneland Heathers JD/Veronica (more movie) AU

77. Payneland Twisters (2024) AU

83. Bring Him Home (from Les Mis) Jenny as Valjean, Niko as Marius

84. Stardust AU

90. Coraline AU

92. HTTYD AU

93. Kimberly Akimbo AU

94. Palaski Dash & Lily AU

Other Conneted to Media AUs

8. Payneland Hades and Persephone Au

9. Edwin is Crowley and Azi's (good omens) son

56. Payneland Joker and Harley Quinn AU

58. Freaky Friday with Edwin and Crystal

87. Payneland Post Hadestown (they both get out) AU

88. Payneland Tale Tale Heart AU

91. Stardew Valley AU

97. Starwars fan Charles

98. Movie night boys watch Dead Poets Society

Other AUs

10. DND AU

15. Foster family AU

16. Jenny "The Butcher" zombie apocalypse AU

17. Coffee shop AU

18. College AU : poli-sci Edwin, social justice Charles

23. Journalist/reporter Edwin, military Charles

26. Highschool AU

31. Modern Charles using dead Edwin's poems in his songs (rock ballads)

32. Payneland musician and tour manager

28. Historical anatomist Edwin and grave robber Charles

35. Alien/hybrid AU

40. Chef Charles and food critic Edwin

41. Archeologist Edwin and Treasure hunter Charles

43. Nail tech Niko and makeup artist Crystal

44. Spy AU

47. Payneland actor AU

54. Formal fantasy's Gala

55. Serial killer Edwin just trying to keep detective Charles attention

60. Med student Edwin

62. Arranged marriage

63. Drag performance

67. If the boys were ghosts during the Blitz

69. Payneland gladiator fighters

72. They're bakers

73. Criminal Crystal with Edwin as her parole officer

74. Cyclist Charles and Runner Edwin

78. Payneland Scuba diver and mermaid

79. Drunk driving Charles meets Edwin in the ER after a crash

80. Edwin's a sniper

81. Prison Break

82. Payneland streamer AU (charles on camera edwin private)

99. Horse racer Edwin

Long Winded Explinations

36. Apprenticeship au (charles&jenny, niko&kashi, monty&mick,crystal&esther, edwin&maxine)

48. Football star charles leaving the sport after he meets clueless about sports edwin to who he is smart edwin and realizes how dangerous it is

85. Kashi is some prince or something imprisoned in angie.....mick is a pirate bounty hunter or something going to save him

86. Mick is going through his stock and finds a trinket thats muttering - its a sending stone and kashi has the other half, he keeps it as a companion

95. kashi is a sailor turned pirate who always takes home little treasures (small things like rocks and shells) back to mick on land

96. Edwin losses his parents to a car crash and refuses to use cars or buses and then meets charles whos some maniac racer or back street drag driver and Payneland and angst ensues

Named But Unwritten (unposted, living rent free in my mind and google docs)

6. Captain of Hell

75. Where the Road Meets the Roots

Everything Else

7. Tragic mick pirate captain

22. Charles brings a cat back to the office

25. Vigilante Edwin

29. Charles with a motorcycle

30. Werewolf Charles

34. Crystal and Esther witch rivalry

42. Kashi pulls NN away from work so they can go on a date

50. Alive AU snowday

59. Kashi/mick pirare au (general)

70. Zamboni Monty one shot

76. Pre (my) valentines fic, dead bride

if you made it this far thanks for reading, please tell me your favorite idea from the list!!

id like to thank @makemeimmortalwithahug @ahyperactivehero @genevievefangirl the most, for hanging out in the DBDA Haunt sever and being there when i come up with most of these ideas

[arclic-stuff]

What's been missing

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Synopsis: You and Lilia have been dating for a few months, but she has felt you becoming distant over the last week. She confronts you, and you open up about your issues with intimacy.

Warnings: smut(18+), sexual tension, teasing, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of bad past relationships and intimacy issues, praise, fingering, begging, cunnilingus, petnames?, sort of dirty talk?

Word count: 3.1k

Author's note: This is the product of burnout and loosely based on my own experiences, whoops. Also, my first time writing smut, in case you couldn't tell lol. I've read over it but honestly fuck it y'all will get the vibe regardless of typos. Feedback is welcome, hope you enjoy!

The harsh bathroom light hurts your eyes as you contemplate your next move. You and Lilia have been dating for a few months since you started tarot lessons with the witch. The two of you clicked and soon the friendship developed further into a relationship that feels so right. All was going well until tonights movie date.

Apart from the occasional make out, things hadn't progressed far on the intimacy side of your relationship. Due to bad experiences in the past, you're hesitant to get intimate with her in case it goes badly and scares her off. So when her hand began to creep up your leg during the movie, you panicked. And so, you've been sitting in the bathroom for the last 15 minutes thinking of what to do.

Knowing you can't hide forever, you head back to your living room towards the couch. Lilia smiles as you approach before looking back at the TV. You sit down next to her, trying to focus on the movie, but Lilia has other plans. Once again, her hand finds your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as she moves higher. Of course, it feels nice, but you dont know what to do with the feelings, so you shift on the couch, moving to the far end of the couch. You feel Lilia's head turn, but you ignore it, hoping for the moment to pass. Lilia sits for a moment before reaching for the remote, turning off the film.

"(y/n) has something happened?" Lilia turns to face you, worry painted across her face as she prepares for the worst.

"No, I'm fine" You offer a weak smile hoping it is convincing but her face remains the same.

"No, you're not. Why are you pulling away from me? And I don't just mean tonight, this whole week you've been distant. If something's happened between us, I need to know."

Sometimes you forgot how observant Lilia is. You struggle to find the words to explain yourself, instead sitting in silence trying to string together a sentence. The silence is too much for Lilia to bare and so she stands up.

"I should go, I don't know what I've done but I'm sorry. Goodnight (y/n)" The older woman tries and fails to hide the wobble in her voice as she rushes to get her jacket. You rise to your feet to follow after her.

"No please don't go. You've done nothing wrong" You rush to stand between her and the door, reaching for her hand which she pulls away.

"Then why?" Lilia asks, looking at you for an explanation. Struggling to find the words, you grab her hand and pull her back into the living room to sit down on the couch, hoping the movement can give her time to think. The silence of the space mixed with Lilia's pleading eyes pulls the words out of your mouth before you can stop them. Closing your eyes, you explain your issues with intimacy from your last relationship, how you're terrified of going further with her in case you mess it up, but also at the same time how you yearn for her and didn't know how to communicate it without sounding crazy.

You open your eyes, bracing for her reaction, but instead she looks at you with nothing but understanding, "Thank you for telling me this. How are you feeling now?"

"Good, it's been hard keeping it to myself. It's so confusing, I want us to get closer, but it scares me" You fidget with your hands, moving slightly towards Lilia without realising, meanwhile she sits back on the couch.

"We can start small?" Lilia opens her arms to you, inviting you closer, and you accept. Lying in Lilia's arms feels like a reward for finally being open with her and yourself. You sink into her chest as her arms envelope you. Lilia hums as she feels you relax in her arms and starts rubbing your back absentmindedly, making you press into her more.

"We can go at whatever pace you need Dolcezza" Her hand continues on it's path drifitng up and down your spine, making you shudder with every movement, her other hand moves your hair out your face.

"We're in no rush, we can try things out together when you're ready" Lilia plants a gentle kiss on your temple, sighing. Something about how gentle she is being with you fills you with curiousity, urges you haven't allowed youself to dwell on resurfacing with every touch.

"What if I want to try things now" You blurt it out trying to hide you face from the woman.

"Oh? What kind of things?"

You shrug, making Lilia chuckle, "Well, we need some ideas first" 

The hand on your back drifts down towards your waist, making you shiver.

"Do you like being touched like this?" Lilia's voice sounds more suggestive, as if she is being affected just as much as you. You hum as she continues rubbing your back, every often moving back to your waist then hip, making you whimper slightly, but once again lilia notices.

"How did you ex touch you?"

"Not like this" 

"That's not what I asked baby, what did they do? What did you like or dislike? Its okay you can tell me" 

"They never did things like this, it was just sex"

"What do you mean just sex" 

"You know sex sex" 

"Honey do you mean no foreplay?" 

You look up confused, as if it's an alien concept.

"Oh my God that explains so much" 

"There's more to relationships than sex, sweetheart, of course that's nice, but being caressed, worshipped, loved, that's different"

You stare at her in shock, shock of how simple the issue had been. It wasn't the intimacy you had issues with, it was the lack of.

"Can you keep going please?"

Lilia smirks tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Of course love, like this?" Lilia continues to rub your back, going in long movements covering your shoulders, waist, hip bone, it makes you fall back into her arms, head in chest, hand gripping her upper arm as she runs her nails lightly down your spine.

"Is this okay?" She using her other hand to caress your face thumb rubbing your cheek. You nod before nuzzling into her neck again, shifting closer to her in the process.

"(Y/n), I need an answer" 

"Yes" 

"Do you want anything else?" You look away awkwardly, still unsure how to verbalise your thoughts, instead trying to avoid her eye. "Do you want me to stop?" 

"What? No dont" 

"Then what do you want? This is about you right now" Lilia pulls your head out her neck so her mouth is against your ear.

"I just want to make you feel good baby, what can I do?" 

Feeling her breath against your ear gives you new found confidence and without thinking you sit up and move to sit on her lap, straddling her thighs. Lilias eyes widen at the sudden action, keeping her hands at her side, not wanting to push you any further. You slump, fidgeting with your hands unsure what to do now the two of you are face to face. Lilia senses your nerves, moving to hold you hands, making you look up.

"What can I do?" She whispered. Trying to act on instinct, you move her hands to your hips, bottom lip between teeth.

"Show me what I've been missing" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Please, Lilia" 

"Come here then" She hums looking down at you lips. Slowly you lean forward and finally kiss Lilia. It's soft, gentle, quick like the ones you've shared before, but this time it isn't just a sign of affection. Lilia moves her hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This one goes on for longer, and has more heat contained within. Lips moving against eachother, hands finding Lilia's shoulders and neck.

Lilia's hands are still glued to your body, squeezing your hipbone, advancing upwards but this time under the barrier of your shirt making you sigh into the kiss. Her hand goes further up then comes down quick, nails lightly scratching on the way done. The action makes you break the kiss, pulling back to gasp.

"You okay?" lilia says lips grazing your jaw.

"Yes.." 

"Yes? And?" 

"Yes and keep going please" You whimper gripping onto her shoulders as if it's the only thing stopping you from combusting

"How about we take this to the other room hm?" Lilia tilts her head to look up at you, hands running across your thighs. You nod eagerly, standing up, pulling her up with you. The two of you head for your bedroom, Lilia stops at the doorway, slipping off her shoes before entering after you.

It occurs to you suddenly that Lilias never been in your room before. You feel self-concious about the space, the cluttered bedside table, piles of clothes, and the work desk with your sketches and projects spread out across the surface. Lilia inquisitively looks around the room as she takes off her robe, folding it over your chair. Her eyes settle on the sketches looking at them with genuine interest.

"Are these the commissions you mentioned earlier?" Lilia glances at the open sketchbook infront of her, you come to stand beside her pointing out a seperate drawing.

"Those are just warm up doodles, this is the actual work, it's been a very interesting process actually," You go on to explain when you feel hands snake around your wasit, realising Lilia has moved to stand behind you, looking over your shoulder at the drawing.

"Continue please" she rests her chin on your shoulder listening to you try and continue with what you where saying. You do try to keep talking but Lilia starts kissing your shoulder, hands gliding across your stomach resting on your hips, pulling you in closer. Somehow, she manages to continue asking questions about your work, asking about the process, the inspiration, showing interest in your work aswell as your body.

You can only take so much. The questions, the attention, the compliments, it all makes you feel light headed and wound up. It makes you turn around and crash your lips against hers, starting to back her up towards the bed, pushing her down.

Lilia looks up with a smug smirk, perched up on her elbows watching you catch your breath, the eye contact makes you shiver and suddenly feel self-concious. She moves on the bed to create space for you to join her, which you do, lying down so you're both facing eachother.

"How are you feeling now?" Lilia whispers, hand reaching out to trace your arm and side. You reach out towards her pulling her up to lean on her elbow.

"Like I need you on top of me" You huff, trying to pull her, but she stays where she is, running a hand along your jaw.

"Are you sure (y/n)? I dont want to push you too much" Lilia pulls her hand away but you grab it before it goes too far.

"I know, but I want you to" You kiss her palm before taking one of her fingers into your mouth. As you slowly suck, you look up at her with pleading eyes. The actions make Lilia's jaw clench, eyes darkening. Realising it's working, you lie down on the pillows, laying your arms up, resting around it. Making Lilia chuckle, she sits up.

"This is quite the view" Lilia moves to sit infront of you, gently guiding your knees apart, shifting to hover above you. Having her this close in this position makes your breath hitch, bottom lip going between your teeth.

"Aw do I make your nervous baby?"

She kisses you, hips pressing down into yours, making you moan at the sensation. She continues kissing you, going to kiss your neck again. She moves the collar of your shirt to find new skin, making you start undoing the buttons of your shirt, she swats your hand away.

"That's my job, Dolcezza" She unbuttons your shirt before pushing it off your shoulders, runs hands up your side, stopping just under your bra, making your back arch.

"Absoluting stunning my love, may I?" Lilia hooks her finger under a bra strap, you node shifting to give her access to the clasp. Lilia takes it off tossing it across the room. Her lips meet yours again as she palms at your chest, making you whine into her mouth, legs tightening around her waist keeping her close.

You roll your hips, she sits back looking at the mess she's turned you into, topless, messy hair, love bites painted across your neck and chest, but what she loves the most is your expression, the heavy eyelids, gaze fulled with lust, pure relatation and arousal. This is exactly how she wanted you, sunken between pillows, relaxed, needy.

"You look so good like this," Lilia ghosts across your lips, pulling back when you lean in. She keeps you like this, right on the precipice of contact, she moves to drift along your neck, breath fanning over you as you shiver. She settles next to your ear as she whispers, "Do you like how I take care of you baby?"

You whine at the words, unable to speak. Lilia moves to face you again holding your chin so you can't look away.

"What else can I do " She cooes placing quick kisses on your lips, "Where do you want me?" You look down, gesturing to your core. Lilia follows your gaze but returns a faux puzzled face, "I don't know what you mean?"

"Yes you do Lilia!" You try to move her hand down but she pulls it away to graze your inner thigh, just off where you need her.

"I can't do anything until you tell me what to do, please baby I want to take care of you" The hand on your inner thigh tightens. Finally you snap out of frustration, hands covering your face as you give her what she wants.

"I need you to fuck me Lilia, please however you want" Your hands are pealed away from your face, Lilia's fingers lacing between yours. She takes in your dishevealed appearance, how you lean forward waiting for her next move.

"That's a good girl", you gasp at the petname and Lilia notices, leaning in to ghost over your lips, "Thats my good girl"

Her lips crash on yours with a new hunger behind them. Teeth clashing, tongues advancing into each other's mouths, making both of you moan at the new territory. Lilia's hand fidgets with the belt loops on your jeans, pulling you closer. Wanting to speed things along, you reach between your bodies, undoing the button and zipper. Before Lilia can fully pull away and make a quick remark, you pull her bottom lip between your teeth, making her shiver for the first time tonight.

She eagerly pulls your jeans and underwear off in one go, the cold air of the room finding your exposed skin, goosebumps covering in its wake. Lilia kisses you once more before moving down your body to rest between your legs. The vulnerability and anticipation battle within you, stuck between rolling your hips in her face and shutting your legs from her, which is met with hands gripping your inner thighs.

"None of that", Lilia looks up at you through heavy eyes as she starts kissing and sucking on the flesh adjacent to your core. Her hand rubs the other thigh, helping to soothe any anxieties you have as she continues her assault on your skin. You gasp when you feel her teeth sink in, imprinting a similar mark on your thigh to the ones decorating your neck and chest. The sting of the bite mixes with the heat in your core, making you feel dizzy, unable to imagine how it gets better than this.

That was when she ran her tongue up your folds. Slow and gentle at first as you adjusted to the feeling, applying more pressure with her tongue alternating between long strips and sucking on your clit, making you arch your back and grip the bedsheets benneth you. You feel yourself tense up, closing in around nothing, making you whine at the emptiness. You grab her shoulders, clawing her to come back up to you. Lilia looks at you with concern, which you quickly resolve with your next request.

"Your hand," you pant, guiding her hand down between you, "I need you inside me," you whisper against her smiling lips. She moves to hover above you again with her hand exploring your core. She keeps her eyes glued to you as she gathers wetness on her fingers, teasing your entrance with her middle fingertip.

"I don't think it's just my fingers you want" Lilia moves so her face is inches from you, filling your eyeline with nothing but her inquisitive face. "I think you just want all my attention. You want to be touched here," She punctuates the last word with two fingers slipping inside you, watching you moan, "but you want me up here too, kissing you, looking at you, talking to you. You're a bit greedy, aren't you?" She starts thrusting her fingers, rocking her hips into you as well. Your legs find her waist again, giving her a better angle to curl her fingers.

"I want to hear you say it baby, say you're greedy"

Your hands fly to her back, scratching into her shoulders, the knot in your stomach tightening as your knuckles turn white around her arms. "I'm greedy, oh god Lilia!" You nearly scream as she adds a third finger and increases the pace to a brutal speed.

"Good girl, you can come now go on baby" Her encouragements are all you need to go over the edge. The climax runs over you, clouding you mind, stilling your body as you gradually come back down to earth. When you open your eyes, Lilia is already heading for the bathroom where she washs her hands and gets a wash cloth. When she comes back, she cleans you up then pulls you back against her chest like how this started on the couch.

"You did so well Dolezza" Lilia runs her hands along your back, feeling you shift against her. You start moving your hand down her body towards her stomach. You go to touch her further but is stopped by her hand moving it back to rest on her chest.

"But I want to-" You start when Lilia kisses you tenderly. "I know you do, but this was about you. I got what I needed, now rest, please baby" She lays her head back against the headboard, smirking.

"And besides, we have plenty of time for that later"

[eleilinnrallin]

On a stimulant (methylphenidate short release (ritalin sr)) and nonstimulant (guanfacine xr) for ADHD, neither of them make me feel slower when I'm taking all my meds properly. (While we were still finding the right balance of meds, the nonstimulant did drop my blood pressure and lead to fatigue; it didn't make me feel slower, just tired more easily, and now that I've got a working meds balance this is a non-issue. My blood pressure is back to normal and I have the energy to get through the day.) The right balance helps me stay on task, be present, and generally just self-regulate so much better.

What does make me feel slower (and generally like shit) is when I don't take my meds. If it's the methylphenidate that I miss, I get antsy, nervous (yes, I get more nervous when I'm not on my stimulant; it helps my emotional regulation), easily frustrated, and spacey. I can't focus on even things that I like. My short-term memory goes down the drain and makes everything difficult. If it's the guanfacine (which I needed to titrate onto and therefore should NOT just go off, ever) I'm laid out flat for one, maybe two days because of dizziness/vertigo, exhaustion, and sometimes nausea. With both, I'm more likely to mildly dissociate (usually depersonalize or derealize, once almost crashed into a car while biking off meds because I didn't feel real enough to apply brakes at a stoplight), can't do my schoolwork or hobbies (because I leave tasks and forget halfway through, once left a quiz open for several hours since I got distracted and forgot it existed), and am more hyperactive (usually fidgetty, sometimes need to get up and Do things, which is a problem with Dizzy).

(Unfortunately, I have to skip a day of guanfacine every two months or so because my local pharmacy refuses to fill on time and I end up one day short. Usually I just tell my teachers I can't come to class that day. With methylphenidate, I do selectively skip some weekend morning doses to prevent situations where I'd have to stop/skip during the school week due to that pharmacy's tendency for error. This does not have a positive impact on my life and health; I would not recommend anyone do it, probably shouldn't be doing it myself but it is what it is.)

For your character: if he's diagnosed and medicated, the medication is going to greatly help his drumming because it's going to let him focus on practicing, generally improving his skills, things that are really hard with inattentive symptoms. He's going to be able to be more present in his performances when he's on meds--though if they're evening performances he might feel more distractable and perform worse because of meds wearing off. (I'm much less productive after 6-8 p.m. because my then my afternoon stimulant dose has run its course and I'm left fending off the inattention myself. Still much more possible than days when I skip meds, because I have more mental energy to work with my symptoms since meds have been helping regulate all day!) Meds will also help him function in his daily life, which will help make him less stressed and better able to engage in his hobbies. He'll have more energy for fun things because he isn't constantly fighting his brain to get things done.

Things that are easier for me on meds: physically getting to school, doing assignments in and out of class, making and eating food (despite that my appetite is negatively impacted by my stimulant), laundry and dishes (still hard but now doable), reading and writing (hobbies), playing D&D with my friends, holding conversations, regulating my emotions (RSD included), grocery shopping, basically EVERYTHING that I do.

(In my experience though meds don't magically fix everything--they're effective in tandem with other coping mechanisms and techniques. There's a reason when I want to get serious work done, I go and study in a dedicated space like the library, or use things like pomodoros (... not exactly since I'm pretty dang time blind, I use "work song, rest song"), body doubling, focus cues like shoes on or music on, etc. However, these things weren't very effective without meds to bridge the gap between Brain Don't Work and Work Needs Done.)

(^University student w/ combined type ADHD and some other things going on)

hi, so I’m probably undiagnosed ADHD and I wanna write a character who is diagnosed ADHD and the problem I’m having is with meds. How I was planning to write them is that they’re a drummer and the character doesn’t always take their medicine when they are going to drum because it makes them feel like a bit slower and almost have like a delayed response or something. I’m still working at the kinks, but I feel like that could come off as really insensitive towards how ADHD meds work and like I don’t fully know how ADHD meds make you feel because I’m undiagnosed and I don’t wanna write it wrong and all of that.

-🥁

Hello!

That's... not really accurate to how ADHD meds work at all. Though this would be insensitive, my main concern is the inaccuracy and the harmful misinformation that this is spreading.

First thing: ADHD medication -- like any daily medication -- isn't something that can just be taken when you want to take it. It's one thing to forget a dose every so often but deliberately missing doses on a regular basis is very harmful.

Not taking it regularly can cause the medication to be less effective for your character and can cause them to be hit worse (by their symptoms and their withdrawal) every time they miss a dose. It can also cause the medication to just... stop working for your character as they develop a tolerance for it.

I take Concerta (also known by the name Ritalin) and when I miss a dose, I certainly end up feeling it.

For me, the first thing I notice is just a weird feeling. Like something in the world is different. It's hard to describe but, to other people, I'm told that it looks like I'm spacier and in my own world.

I have a very hard time focusing and can't last more than a few minutes without spacing out -- even if I'm actively involved in a conversation. It makes it impossible for me to attend my lectures and take notes, let alone take a test or an exam.

Because I also have anxiety and several other mental conditions, this also has a major impact on them. The increased rejection-sensitive dysphoria (RSD) that I experience triggers an increase in my anxiety (even if I've taken my anxiety meds), which in turn causes an increase in my dissociative symptoms.

The brain is a complex organ -- one we don't fully understand yet. Nothing happens in isolation.

Aside from the ADHD-specific side of things, there's also the withdrawal.

While it's not as bad as the withdrawal from my venlafaxine (the meds I take for my PTSD, anxiety, depression, and dissociative disorder. Three cheers for medication that multitasks!), withdrawal from my Concerta is still not great.

When I miss a dose, I end up sleeping almost the entire day. I just can't stay awake. I also get a horrible headache that can't be touched by Advil or Tylenol and I end up with no appetite (though apparently most people experience the opposite -- an increase in appetite). I also experience an increase in my depression.

Though it will of course be different for everyone (especially if your character is on a different type of medication), what I'm getting at here is that ADHD medication doesn't work like this. You can't pick and choose when to take it.

Taking ADHD medication doesn't make you feel "slower" or have a "delayed response" or anything like that. In fact, those feelings are more likely to come from missing a dose.

Something else that needs to be considered here is that ADHD medication is constantly portrayed as being bad/evil/negative and especially as something that's only done to dull the character with ADHD and make them more "palatable" to those around them. It's shown as something that stifles their creativity and forces them to become exactly like everyone else.

This can't be further from the truth.

Although it is true that ADHD is often over-diagnosed and over-medicated, the effect that ADHD meds have on those who need them can be life-changing.

These harmful misrepresentations of ADHD medication have major consequences in the real world. Not only do they undermine the struggles of having ADHD and reinforce the idea that ADHD is just being hyper/unfocused, they also discourage people from seeking the treatment that can help them.

When I was first diagnosed, I didn't want to go on medication and my parents didn't want me to either. They thought it would make me dull and lifeless and kill my creativity. Even after I'd done my own research and decided to try it, my father spent weeks telling me that ADHD was just "western propaganda" and didn't actually exist.

I see this same attitude in teachers, other parents, and even doctors all the time.

Although some people can be quick to diagnose a child with ADHD and medicate them when there may be another cause for their behaviour, overcorrecting in the opposite direction helps nobody.

If you want to write a character with ADHD and especially one that's on medication for it, please do your research first. You don't have to have ADHD or be on medication to do that. This article [Link] discusses the impact of poor ADHD representation while this one [Link] talks about what happens when you miss a dose of ADHD medication.

In short: please don't do this. ADHD isn't just the "silly hyper can't sit still" disorder and the medication for it is an actual treatment that helps so many people. Treat it as seriously as you'd treat any other disorder.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! I'm wondering if you have any resources on being Black and Christian as I'm writing two characters of this experience. One of them is a Black woman, and it isn't a central part of her character arc or a major source of conflict for her, but it does inform her experience, routines, and beliefs. She goes to church, prays before bed, etc. Her love interest also grew up Black and Christian but is now somewhat less spiritual and leans agnostic. They're part of an ensemble cast that differs a lot in race, gender expression, belief, and sexuality. While the story is a comedy I won't be making any big commentary on wether Christianity is good or bad or anything like that.

Thanks so much for the time you put into this blog!

I feel like you gotta commit a little more here. The intersection of her Blackness and Christianity- especially if she is of the cultural background where the introduction of Christianity was colonial in nature- does matter! Especially if we're comparing different groups and beliefs.

I'm my experience, many Black Americans hold tight to Christianity- and everything it entails, good or bad- because it has long been a source of community and empowerment, where none else existed. Others reject it, for numerous reasons. I myself am Christian, but currently do not believe in the concept of "the church". Thus your agnostic Black character- what sort of environment and denomination were they in that made them lean away? Were they Baptist? Holiness? Presbyterian? Jehovah's Witness? Methodist? "Christian" itself is a bit too vague to write a thorough experience on!

I also want to ask- what's comedic about it? What is it that you're trying to say?

[uselessheretic]

ofmd fandom has a racefaking scandal which lol i mean lmao even if u will. anyways, two things i guess as someone who doesn't even go here anymore

a black guy named atticus should've been your first red flag like let's be so serious rn

and 2. this is indicative of how fandom, and ofmd especially, weaponizes identity within it for clout where they're incentivized to exaggerate or wholesale make shit up about themselves as a way of adding validity to their views. "listen to poc voices" has always been a useless statement that gives white people permission to not engage in critical thought and instead rely on poc labor to form an opinion. and it's hilarious that this is somehow the response white fans have to this situation because they are allergic to the idea of picking up a fucking book and actually learning about critical race theory and history instead of the 20 something year old faceless blogger writing meta.

it's telling how often white fans gravitate to these viewpoints where their "authentic" and "necessary" writing on race becomes some of the most cited and propped up examples because, even subconsciously, white fans prioritize whitewashed experiences of racialization that already fits their worldview on how they imagine a poc thinks.

white people are able to succeed in this type of grift because ofmd fandom gaslit itself into thinking that reading text posts counts as educating themselves. which basically means they're doing an activism by reading fanfic and making sure they have only the most correct and woke headcanons lol its been years and you bitches still haven't picked up and finished a single book about race! you have no idea how to critically examine race relations and apply that in a real world context without jumping to the next poc's blog and hoping they have the answer!

this is why these people, despite claiming their hobby is "activism" and that they're an educational resource, will almost never post about current events. even though they claim they're helping combat ignorance in fandom, they'll never provide a source. they'll never link an article they read. they'll never recommend a book for further reading. they'll never remind people of upcoming digital workshops. they'll never suggest a documentary. they'll never actually try to give people the tools to learn for themselves because they don't have them. they just have oomfs ~really good and sooo smart~ meta they wrote based off of vibes and a prayer.

ofmd fandom is locked in a state of permanent ignorance and it'll stay that way because it likes it that way.

[alllgator-blood]

I genuinely love the way you write each character. They're all so distinct, and you don't shy away from their vices. And the angst?? I'm absolutely living for it. Genuinely a masterclass for tugging at the heartstrings. It's so visceral that it's just leaving me at the edge of my seat. The Yule comics were absolutely gorgeous. The grief you pulled from your own personal experience has created a marvelous arc detailing just how hard each Bishop was struggling to cope in their own way.

Each stroke you make and letter you type is simply ethereal. Even a silly doodle from you is made with such earnest that it feels like you're just making masterpiece after masterpiece. Seeing you on my feed has me kicking and squealing with absolute delight!

I hope you're doing well, and I can't wait to see more from you! 😊💜✨

This means the world to me, thank you so much!!! The few times my family asks what I've been up to and I talk vaguely about my comics, I'm always met with "??? WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THAT??? WHO WANTS TO READ THAT" and while it sucks to hear or whatever, I prefer to internalize asks like these because THIS is why I draw. YOU GET ME! And anybody that follows this blog gets me as well which is more support than I've had in a long time. Maybe ever??

Sad comics for me have always been THE way I get my feelings out, I'm not so great with words to describe how I feel and it's also hard to capture that feeling with just one picture, therefore...ANGST COMICS! I get hit with that feeling of "this is like deeply personal maybe I should just save this for when I do OC art again" when I make stuff like the yule comic or the one I'm about to post, but idk the bishop family has a fuckin death grip on my heart. They SUCK but they still love each other enough to literally fight to the death on each other's behalf, even if two of them know they won't win. IT'S REALLY GOOD I love them and I feel very fulfilled when I write for them.

I think about those guys all the time and it feels like an honor having other cotl fans see my comics and feel emotions over them. I'd be making these even if nobody saw them, been doing comics for years that nobody has ever seen, but genuinely running this blog and seeing people's feedback has gotten me to wake up earlier than the afternoon just to post/read stuff. Even if sometimes I disappear because I'm terrible at being social, messages like these really do make the amount of time I put into my art 100% worth it. I appreciate you and I hope you're doing well too, thanks for taking the time to send me this!!

[ajastu]

this is a blog made specifically so i can ramble, so time for another one. Been thinking on n off about the concept of a new game in a beloved franchise letting you down in some way, and when expressing that disappointment crosses a certain line.

Like, from personal experience: i was disappointed by dishonored 2. i swear this has something to do with dragon age, bear with me for a moment. The plot fell flat for me, the trailer basically tells you everything that happens in the game, and it really pales in comparison to the way the narrative was crafted in the first game.

HOWEVER, no matter how much of an essay i could write about the shortcomings i, personally, see with dh2, i can still acknowledge that it was a solid fucking game, with care taken in the production of it, and that a lot of people loved it for the exact things that disappointed me, and they are not in the wrong for it.

this got long, unsurprisingly, so the rest ill put behind a read-more 👍

Whenever i talk about what i think could have been done better in the sequel, it is more of a....thought exercise. Because the fact is, we're never getting the dh2 i really wanted, and so there is no need to get upset or frustrated about it. Might as well have fun analyzing it n getting to the core of what it is exactly that felt off, but not in an angry way? more like....having a fun discussion with a friend. pulling a puzzle apart kinda deal. make it Productive, and not just a feedback loop of negative feelings. Find good things in it, even.

So, when i still see people foaming-at-the-mouth mad about veilguard, im not gonna lie, i feel kind of concerned about the mental well-being of some of them.

The fact is. Veilguard is a solid fucking game. Just, objectively speaking. The level design is (to me, at least) intuitive and fun to explore, it does not feel like a slog (looking at you, dai. that one's open world design gave me the most mind-numbingly boring fever dream once), the battle mechanic doesn't make me want to download a 'skip combat' mod, the faction mechanic is fun and closer to the spirit of dao that dai was*, the plot is coherent and has a Theme, and, despite what people like to say, the lore reveals make sense and are consistent with the previous lore in the series 🤷‍♂️. I genuinely do believe that the whole blight origin thing was already thought out before dao came out. thats just how worldbuilding works, usually.

I have a ranking of the DA games in my head, based on how much i liked them. Before datv, it was as follows:

dao (a game of its time, but one i love immensely)

da2

dai (its decent enough, but it never really grabbed me like the other two)

I expected datv to take 4th place. As it currently stands, it might just share the first place with dao, for me personally.

I remember exactly the moment when it clicked for me that playing datv felt like playing dao (it was the first blackthorne mission). And that moment was very special to me. It is also, perhaps, the only game in the series which really actually made me lose my entire mind during certain story missions, but that one might just be because i saw no spoilers before going in.

It is also so so so important to me because of the way they handled the trans and specifically nonbinary representation.

It might not have been exactly what people wanted, but no game will please every single person. like, i am sure that some people dislike the game for exactly the reasons i like it. And the thing is, neither of us is in the wrong. It all comes down to expectations, and how people handle it when something does not meet theirs.

When i went into dh2, it was after a several years long wait for a sequel. I was so excited! I built up this idea of what the game would be like, and i looked forward to seeing it become real. I had Expectations! And the game did not meet most of them. It does not mean it was a bad game. It was just not what i was expecting. I could sit here and pick at it until i start despising it, but that would be a disservice both to me and to the people who put their time and passion into making it.

Before datv's release, my expectations were as low as they could possibly be (because dai is my least fav game in the series, so i was wary about the next one, and because ive heard of the development hell and the fact they were planning to add micro-transactions to the game at some point etc etc). And i do acknowledge that this played a part in how much i ended up enjoying the game. I gave it a chance while not expecting anything, and it let me see it for what it is: a solid fucking game. a good one, even.

I can absolutely see how someone with certain expectation for da4 could be disappointed by the game not addressing the things they wanted to see addressed, or addressing them in a way they don't agree with. I've been there, even! And the fact that i personally liked datv doesn't mean other people can't or shouldn't criticize it.

The difference here lies in where exactly that criticism comes from, and what it hopes to accomplish, and whether or not at some point it becomes more harmful than useful.

When caught up in the spiral of disappointment, it is important to stop and think about whether this is productive. whether this is contributing something to your life. I am no stranger to chewing a bone**. in fact, i am very predisposed to it. Which is exactly why i make an effort to reflect on whether or not it is worth it.

Because, at the end of the day, no matter how much criticism is being put out into the world about datv, or dh2, or what have you, the simple fact remains: it won't change anything about the game that got released. The effort and emotional turmoil is, ultimately, wasted. It is always better to turn that passion into something productive: fanworks, or an essay (in good faith!) that analyzes your own feelings on the topic and what you would want to see differently, or a whole another game/piece of media entirely. It is important to stop coming from a place of vitriol and hatred, because that will burn you out and leave you feeling worse. You have to make a choice to choose joy in your life.

When you see someone enjoying a game you didn't like, and your first reaction is seething hatred and/or a desire to send death threats, you have to ask yourself: is this really worth it?

You're not going to convince people to stop liking a game. Frankly, why would you Want to do that? What will it accomplish in your life? What will it contribute? In the grand scheme of things, a crusade like that is a very foolish thing to burn yourself out over. Put the bone down, and go get a proper meal 🤷‍♂️

________________________________________________

*i dont think that, with the state the current game industry is in, we will ever get another game with a similar bg mechanic like origins had. too many resources needed for that. but the factions are as close as it gets, in my personal opinion

**meaning, fixating on a topic, especially one that causes some kind of negative emotion

[meadowfics]

what kind of cars does the kang family has?what kind of car we have?what kind of car does Daeho has?

i just saw the new trailer for yadang and those scenes of Ha-neul in that sexy ass car and his long hair got me wondering if Daeho has a Dilf-y car…with two pink car seats in the back😂

OUUUUUUU great ask!!! I loved writing this one enjoy <3

your family has never been one for extravagance, not even with all the money tucked away in the bank.

some things, well... some things are worth the indulgence.

daeho has two cars, and if you were to ask him, he'd say both serve entirely different purposes. one for family and one for fun.

the first is the one you all rely on most... a luxury suv.

it is sleek and black with tinted windows, its spacious interior easily housing two vibrant pink car seats in the back.

one for seo-ah, still small but growing, and the other snugly fitted for baby byeol. the leather seats are immaculate, save for the occasional stray crumb from a sneaky snack and the soft imprint of little shoes kicking against the back of the front seats.

it’s impossible to miss the faint scent of apple juice and lavender baby wipes lingering in the air.

seo-ah loves this suv. she insists it’s "daddy's big tiger car," though the only roaring sound it ever makes is when daeho revs it a little harder than necessary, much to your amusement.

the girls always giggle in the back when he does it, as if they’re on a rollercoaster. it’s become a thing... a family ritual during long drives.

then, there's dae-ho's other car. the porsche 918 spyder.

you still remember the way daeho’s face lit up on his birthday, like he was ten years younger, the very first time he slid into the driver’s seat. the spyder gleams under the sun like polished obsidian, the kind of sleek, powerful machine that commands attention.

there are no car seats in that one... it’s strictly for moments when the girls are home with you, or those rare late-night drives where he lets the wind comb through his long hair and forgets, just for a while, about the weight of everything else like his trauma.

"you’re a total dilf," you had teased when he first brought it home, leaning against the garage wall as you admired the glossy curves of the car, "spyder and all."

"just missing the pink seats in the back," he’d joked with a grin, tugging you in for a kiss.

you have cars too!!!

your pride and joy sits snugly beside the spyder, contrasting it in every possible way.

your cherry red 1966 ford mustang.

it’s a beauty and a classic that turns heads just as much as daeho’s porsche does, though for entirely different reasons. its different from the other modern cars you see in korea. your car came from the united states.

the crimson paint practically glows under the sun, polished to perfection every weekend when you find an excuse to tinker with it.

you didn't get it for the engine or the performance. no, you fell in love with the color. that deep, vibrant red that reminded you of something bold. something free.

driving that care it made you feel like a version of yourself that somehow never existed before thanks to childhood trauma. it is a little indulgent? maybe.

however, after everything you and daeho had been through, the car was a symbol of how far you’d come and what you've been through.

seo-ah loves your car on summer days. byeol still needs to experience the nice winds hitting her face on day in the sunlight.

there’s your audi too.

an sq5 in sleek black, your reliable go-to.

this one is all about practicality. it is big enough for grocery runs, daycare drop-offs, and the occasional road trip to see daeho’s family.

seo-ah insists on calling it the “zoomy car” because it’s “fast but not as fast as daddy’s.” byeol doesn't care much yet... she mostly sleeps in her car seat, her chubby little cheeks squished against the side as you drive.

the funny part? despite the cars, you and daeho still find yourselves on the fast trains on the subway more often than not.

it’s a habit neither of you can shake. back when you were barely scraping by, the subway was your lifeline. a small, fleeting bit of peace in the city of seoul that moved too fast.

sometimes, the familiar hum of the train and the rhythmic sway are more comforting than anything a luxury car could offer.

“we could just drive, you know,” daeho had suggested last month when you brought up the idea of taking the train into seoul for a little date night.

“yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” you’d replied, smiling.

“besides, it reminds me of when we didn’t have four cars in the driveway.”

he laughed, agreeing, though the playful roll of his eyes told you he wouldn’t argue.

now, even seo-ah loves the train. she’ll press her little face against the window, her hands leaving fingerprints all over the glass as she watches the world blur by.

byeol, strapped to your chest in her baby carrier, usually sleeps through the whole ride.

the train is about necessity anymore. it’s about nostalgia.

so, yeah. you’ve got the sleek suv with its pink car seats, the flashy porsche that daeho swears is just a “hobby car,” the iconic red mustang that makes your heart race, and the ever-practical audi that fits your family just right.

however, you and daeho love the train the most!

kang family masterlist

taglist: @chuckzdeluluwife , @theredvelvetbitch , @martinasr00 , @ameliahaa , @googie-jeon , @casually-simping , @erinkeenan , @thewinterv , @breakmeoff , @breeisaslay22

[xverzuszofficial]

Chapter III - The Temptress

[WORK IN PROGRESS - WIP!!]

[WORK IN PROGRESS - WIP!!]

[WORK IN PROGRESS - WIP!!]

(So I got my friend @dazelvel into Slay the Princess aswell to the point where she is now head over heels for The Long Quiet, and has designed a self-insert/custom Princess for herself - and it got me in the headspace to write a custom route for her! I dubbed her The Temptress! Dazel if you come across this (which you undoubtedly will cause Imma share this to you as soon as Im finished with it: hiiiiiii :D))

[Follow instructions in square brackets after texts for the interactive experience!]

Chapter III - "The Temptress"

The Narrator: You're on a path in the - .

Voice of the Smitten: You foul beasts, all of you! How dare you deny us our happy ending?!

The Narrator: Excuse me?

Voice of the Hero: He's being mad about last time.

Voice of the Smitten: We were just about to grasp the beginning of our beautiful life together, and you - you wretched, evil, dark hearted monsters - took it away from us! She trusted us wholely, and you stabbed her at the gates to freedom!

Voie of the Hero: The whole situation sounded fishy, don't you think? Or is your mind so hazed by your own desire for love that you can't see? No one just falls in love with you that easily. And especially after murdering us.

The Narrator: 'Murdering us' ? 'Stabbing her at the gates to freedom' - what are you two talking about?

Voice of the Hero: This isn't our first time back here.

The Narrator: Okay ... (Sigh) How many times has it been?

Voice of the Hero: This is number three.

Voice of the Stubborn: What does it matter how many times we've been here before? If we are back, then she is back too - that means we've lost to her. We have to get to her now and settle this once and for all!

Voice of the Smitten: Yes, take us to her post haste! We have an appology to deliver!

Voice of the Stubborn: The hell we need to appologize for? Finally getting her and letting her kick the bucket on the cold, stone floor?

Voice of the Smitten: The brutal death of our dearly beloved by our wretched, cold hands! Oh, I can't even imagine the way she feels right now. The memories of our betrayal must still linger on within her mind...

Voice of the Hero: It appears to me that those two are going to be our main source of pain before she potentially stabs us again.

The Narrator: Alright, okay, I am not going to bother with the beginning of everything - it seems like you already get the jist of things, so let's get a move on.

---CHOICE---

[Explore] Everything feels ... off. [go to: 100]

[Explore] Stabbing her so close to freedom really did feel awful. [go to: 120]

[Silently proceed towards the cabbin.] [go to: 130]

---

[130] --- The Narrator: Your familiarity with the cabin is shifted. A sturdy, wooden bridge, cast above a rapid river is what leads you to the mountain that the cabin resides ontop of.

Voice of the Hero: You ... weren't kidding about the mountain part, were you?

The Narrator: Do I still need to let you know, after two cycles, that the things I describe to you are facts?

Voice of the Hero: (Sigh) Do we really have to climb all the way up? I can't see anything apart from the roof of the thing!

Voice of the Stubborn: And? A little bit of warming up never hurt anybody! And it's not like it'll hurt us! Let's get a move on!

Voice of the Smitten: If I could, I'd fly up those rocky cliffs in the blink of an eye to get her, but our love is worth all the pain those sharp rocks and - !

Voice of the Stubborn: Ugh, just cut it out already, will you?

Voice of the Smitten: How dare you! I was - !

Voice of the Stubborn: Shut up already! You don't - no - you REFUSE to get it, do you? No matter how much you try, no matter how many cycles we live through, no matter how many versions of 'oUR DeaRlY beLoVeD' we meet - it all ends the same! Either we beat her, or she beats us! I don't know how long it'll take for you to get it into your thick skull, but it's time for you to snap out of it!

Voice of the Hero: ... Holy shit ...

Voice of the Smitten: ... Your words, my friend, hurt worse than anything she could've ever done to us. Why must you dismiss my feelings for her like that?

Voice of the Stubborn: Oh you'll live, let's just get this done with already!

The Narrator: Okay, your mind is becoming a lot more heated and cluttered by now and I am starting to get scared with how easily you'll be able to get to a rational decision, so just please hurry up!

---CHOICE---

[Climb up the mountain to the cabin.] [go to 131]

---

[120] --- Voice of the Smitten: Yes, and now is the perfect time to show our deepest regrets to her. Maybe, just maybe, she still finds it within her heart to forgive us, and move on from our disastorous mistake!

Voice of the Hero: I can sort of get behind that. Imagine how we would've felt if we got stabbed in the back right as our hand was on the door.

The Narrator: If the worst monster you've ever seen in your entire life would pass by next to you and you had to kill it - would you feel bad?

Voice of the Hero: Depends.

The Narrator: Well it shouldn't 'depend' in this situation. She's a murderous, world destroying monster who you've already killed once! In this situation tho, the monster has already ended you - twice - before you could've gotten rid of her completely.

Voice of the Stubborn: Are you going to give us another one of your lazy, badly written metaphors or are you going to let us go now?

The Narrator: I'll keep them to myself then.

---CHOICE---

(if you haven't read already) [Explore] Everything feels ... off. [go to: 100]

[Silently proceed towards the cabin.] [go to: 130]

---

[100] --- Voice of the Hero: Yeah ... it's almost like the whole forest was burned up. And I can't see a damn thing either.

Voice of the Stubborn: The scary aesthetic never stopped us before, because we keep on persevering! Just push through it and get this done!

Voice of the Smitten: Not even a chance to pick a rose for her. Oh, the beauty you have ripped us away from...

The Narrator: As you stumble your way across the path, blinded by darkness and holding onto the charcoal trees for support, your foot lands right before something that sends an icy chill up your spine. Your foot touches something sharp and metallic.

Voice of the Hero: What is this thing? A beartrap?

Voice of the Stubborn: There isn't just one either, they are scattered all over the place. They're even hung up on the trees. Looks like the lady doesn't want us running into her anytime soon.

Voice of the Smitten: Or perhaps, she's keeping herself safe, and trusts us to find our way through this maze of traps, so that none may get to her but us!

---CHOICE---

(if you haven't read already) [Explore] Stabbing her so close to freedom really did feel awful. [go to: 120]

[Silently proceed towards the cabin.] [go to: 130]

---

[131] --- The Narrator: You begin your ascent up the mountain, following a dangerous, narrow path up the first couple of miles, which slowly become narrower and narrower. Eventually, you find no more path to lay your foot upon, and you are forced to scale the mountainside. Your hands and claws, digging into the sharp edges of rocks and cliffs, pull you upwards, as you feel every muscle within your body both aching and burning in pain. It is an agonizing, yet rewarding feeling climb, as every successful push, every successful pull, and every successful step feels like an achievement before you realize, you cannot see the ground anymore.

Voice of the Stubborn: Yes! This is pure, unfiltered ecstassy right here! I can feel every fibre within us pushing its limits! This is what living feels like! This is the taste of victory!

Voice of the Hero: That's ... quite the way up ... (Sigh) Don't get dizzy. Just don't get dizzy. Don't get dizzy ...

The Narrator: You're doing just fine, you are almost at the top.

Voice of the Stubborn: Come on boys, just a little more!

---CHOICE---

[Push your way up the mountain.] [go to: 132]

---

[132] --- The Narrator: You finally make it up to the cabin, entering its iron gates and stepping inside. The confines of the cabin smell of fragrance and elegance, but - wether because of your exhausted mind, or your past cycles - the beauty of it all strikes you as faux. The ground is covered in the patles of roses, and a red capet leads you down to the basement. The only furniture of note is a marble table with golden edges. Perched on it is the pristine blade you've learned how to wield.

Voice of the Hero: Suffering through all of that and being met with this is actually really, really nice!

Voice of the Smitten: She laid out all of this for us. To see our strength. To see if we can be gifted her forgiveness. We made it up here - .

Voice of the Stubborn: What did I say about snapping out of it? Keep your head in the game. And you, the one who describes stuff, don't bother with any other option - we are taking the blade!

The Narrator: Well I was hoping you would do that in the first place so you are just helping me save ink.

---CHOICE---

[Explore] The carpet just leads to a mirror. [go to: 140]

[Head down to the basement.] [go to: 141]

---

[140] --- Voice of the Hero: The mirror is back again, yeah.

Voice of the Smitten: Perhaps to let us take a final look at ourselves and see if our face is full of shame and desire to be forgiven, or to make sure we don't disappoint her with our looks.

Voice of the Stubborn: Who cares? Just kick it away already and get going!

---CHOICE---

[Head down to the basement.] [go to: 141]

---

[141] --- The Narrator: You walk up to the stone arch entrance of the basement and stop right before the stairs. Do you really think there's a mirror there?

Voice of the Hero: Yeah, it's all grimey and gross though. Maybe we could wipe it clean?

The Narrator: I can't even begin to fathom what those past cycles must've done to you to make you start seeing things, but right now is not the time!

Voice of the Smitten: One last chance before our fate with our beloved is decided.

Voice of the Stubborn: I will, actually, end you if you keep this up. Just kick it down the stairs and get moving!

---CHOICE---

[Wipe the mirror clean.] [go to 143]

[Kick the mirror down the basement.] [go to 144]

---

[144] --- The Narrator: You raise your foot above your waist, bending your knee upwards as you attempt to kick away whatever obstacle was projected ahead of you by your mind, but your foot doesn't connect with anything. Instead, you fall forwards, the velocity of your kick carrying your unbalanced body ontop of the hard, stone stairs, tumbling down to the bottom. Each bump, each flip, each hit feels like something bruises or bends within you.

Voice of the Hero: Nice going on the warpath.

The Princess: "I see you've made quite the journey down my steps, my pretty little bird."

The Narrator: Her voice, coated in a layer of gentleness and passion, graces your ears.

Voice of the Smitten: Just her voice alone is enough to ease all my pains...

---CHOICE---

[Face the Princess] [go to 150]

---

[143] --- The Narrator: You reach forward and extend your hand outwards into the air.

Voice of the Hero: Why am I not surprised?

The Narrator: You descend from the top of the stairs, the rose patels and red carpetting guiding you along and covering your feet from the cold marble steps. Your descent is lit by candles, hung up from above and dripping wax onto golden trays. The air downstairs creeps up, carrying warmth and damptness, like a humid day. If the Princess really lives here, slaying her might be doing her a favour! Her voice, coated in a layer of gentleness and passion, graces your ears as it carries up the stairs.

The Princess: "My pretty little bird, I can hear your feet thumping against my steps, and it makes me feel warm to know you've returned to me."

Voice of the Hero: I ... I don't know how to feel about this. She sounds ... too good.

Voice of the Smitten: Our argous journey up this mountain was not in vain, my friend, you see. She missed us dearly!

---

[150] --- The Narrator: As you raise your head, your eyes meet the Princess' across the room. Your eyes glide along her long hair covering her neck and shoulders, and seemingly flowing into her giant red dress, with her arm still in a shackled chain that you can't quite make out where it goes.

Voice of the Smitten: She is absolute beauty herself! Just looking at her is enough to make me want to jump out of this form and leave you four horrible beings to your lonesomes without her!

Voice of the Hero: I ... woah ...

Voice of the Stubborn: Now ain't that a dress too big? It's like she thinks that by creating a silken barrier around herself, she can escape our confrontation! I wouldn't mind staining it, if you catch my drift.

The Princess: "Welcome, my pretty little bird! I hope your journey wasn't so grueling. Please, come and rest with me, you look beaten."

---CHOICE---

[Explore] "Hold on, this is going a bit too fast!" [go to: 160]

[Explore] "I'd rather have you come and rest with me instead." [go to: 161]

[Explore] [Make bird noises.] [go to: 162]

[Explore] Fellas, I don't know what to do - [go to: 163]

[Approach the Princess.] [go to: 164]

[Slay the Princess.] [go to: 170]

---

[160] --- The Princess: "Oh, is it? Why do you think so? Is it perhaps the guilt you feel from last time, keeping you away from me? When you stabbed me in the back before our happy ending. Or perhaps the time before that, where you helped me escape, and how that felt? My pretty little bird, your heart aches so badly from the past that's already so far behind us. Just let it go already, would you? Let go of those past mistakes and embrace the me in the now."

Voice of the Smitten: So she has forgiven us! Thank you, my love! If you can forgive me wholeheartedly, I can forgive myself, too!

Voice of the Hero: Does that mean you also forgive us, or are we still the 'wretched, evil, horrible monstrocities' like you said?

Voice of the Smitten: My heart is maybe patched for you, my heroic friend, but you, bloodthirsty hound, get no such treatment!

Voice of the Stubborn: Like I give a shit about your forgiveness.

---CHOICE---

(if you haven't read already) [Explore] "I'd rather have you come and rest with me instead." [go to: 161]

(if you haven't ready already) [Explore] [Make bird noises.] [go to: 162]

(if you haven't read already) [Explore] Fellas, I don't know what to do - [go to: 163]

[Approach the Princess.] [go to: 164]

[Slay the Princess.] [go to: 170]

---

[161] --- The Princess: [Chuckling] "Oh you would absolutely love that, wouldn't you? Feel me lay down on your feathery body and allow you to take control? But sadly, I'd have to say no to your offer. My heart might have forgiven you, and it may have forgotten your past mistakes, but my mind hasn't."

The Narrator: She raises a hand to her mouth, covering it as she laughs at your suggestion at closing the distance between you two.

Voice of the Hero: That's reasonable, I suppose? We did kill her, and if I look at it through her lens, then yeah - I wouldn't want to approach someone who I know has backstabbed me once already.

Voice of the Stubborn: Oh, I see. If she doesn't want to come to us, then we have to go to her. Fine by me. I'll show her what's good.

---CHOICE---

[Explore] "Hold on, this is going a bit too fast!" [go to: 160]

(if you haven't ready already) [Explore] [Make bird noises.] [go to: 162]

(if you haven't read already) [Explore] Fellas, I don't know what to do - [go to: 163]

[Approach the Princess.] [go to: 164]

[Slay the Princess.] [go to: 170]

---

[162] --- The Narrator: What?

Voice of the Hero: Huh?

Voice of the Stubborn: THIS IS HUMILIATING!

Voice of the Smitten: Hear our song, my beloved! Our heart reeks of sorrow, and so our song is sad, but your love can make it all happy again!

The Princess: [Happy chuckle] "You really are my pretty little bird, aren't you? Singing out your little heart to me like that makes me just want you more. Please come back to me, pretty little bird."

Voice of the Hero: Can we make a pact to never, NEVER do that again?

Voice of the Stubborn: I second this.

The Narrator: I agree. Let's forget this has ever happened.

---CHOICE---

[Explore] "Hold on, this is going a bit too fast!" [go to: 160]

[Explore] "I'd rather have you come and rest with me instead." [go to: 161]

(if you haven't read already) [Explore] Fellas, I don't know what to do - [go to: 163]

[Approach the Princess.] [go to: 164]

[Slay the Princess.] [go to: 170]

---

[163] --- The Narrator: In that case, here's a good idea: actually end her! You don't have to listen to any of the vaguely seductive nonsense she's spewing to try and get to you. Hell, it's making me uncomfortable with how she's calling you her "pretty little bird".

Voice of the Hero: I guess it felt kind of cute at first when she said it, but now I think about it and just feel like - "no".

Voice of the Smitten: It is simply a cute nickname she has given us! Why must you all dismiss her attempts?

Voice of the Stubborn: It's humiliating and debilitating. I don't like being babied like this. It's like she sees us as nothing but a pet she could stuff into a cage.

Voice of the Smitten: If being in a cage is what it takes to make both of us happy, then we might aswell crawl to her!

Voice of the Hero: What?! No! Absolutely no! Just, no!

The Narrator: Oh my goodness this is actually going to go horribly wrong. Quick, pick a decision and do it now!

---CHOICE---

[Explore] "Hold on, this is going a bit too fast!" [go to: 160]

[Explore] "I'd rather have you come and rest with me instead." [go to: 161]

[Explore] [Make bird noises.] [go to: 162]

[Approach the Princess.] [go to: 164]

[Slay the Princess.] [go to: 170]

---

[170] --- The Narrator: You grip onto the blade, springing into a sprint forwards, your eyes locking with hers, as her face shifts from an inviting, seductive smile, into one of hysteria and anger.

The Princess: "Are you serious?!"

The Narrator: Before you can do so much as lunge yourself at her, she whips her chained arm around, hitting you right in the face with its thick, heavy, iron knots. You are sent onto the floor, your teeth barely clinging onto the gums of your mouth where she had hit you, and your jaw feeling fractured.

Voice of the Hero: Why?! Why does it have to hurt so bad every single time?!

Voice of the Stubborn: Pfft, who needs teeth? We have the blade, we have the claws, we have the hands and feet to do everything to finish the job! And now, we have a new reason to hit her back! And now, you lovesick freak, can see that she does not love us! This is how it should've gone sincethe beginning!

Voice of the Smitten: I don't believe you! I refuse to! There can still be a way to make things right! She said - she said she's forgiven us! We have to appeal to her heart!

The Narrator: That's going to be difficult with how little teeth you'll probably have left by the end.

The Princess: "You knew I wanted to leave! And you knew I wanted to leave with only you! It was all that I ever wanted, and it's still all that I want now! Why must you keep hurting me?! Why must you keep trying to fight?! Just be happy together with me, please!"

---CHOICE---

[Stand back up and keep fighting.] [go to: 172]

[Stand up and drop the blade.] [go to: 180]

[Stay on the ground and say nothing.] [go to: 190]

---

[172] --- The Narrator: But you don't let neither the pain nor her words get to you as you rise back up to you feet, pushing yourself up and standing in front of her. Your vision is hazed, however, the whip from the chain seemingly also having damaged one of your eyes.

The Princess: "You are forcing me to do this! I love you, you know I do! Just stop fighting me already and love me back!"

Voice of the Hero: That's hard to believe when we have a handful of teeth missing because of her.

Voice of the Smitten: She isn't lying! She loves us! I can feel it, you just have to let go of your skepticism and see her for who she is! Accept her!

The Narrator: But you push the thought of forgivness aside, raising the blade once more and jumping her. Your blade sinks deep into her shoulder, causing her to scream out in pain. But in return comes her fist, blowing your face away from her view and knocking you off of her. You feel your neck strain from the power of the impact.

The Princess: "I'll beat it into you if I have to!"

The Narrator: She then begins the humiliating process of whipping your back with her chain, each blow either dislocating or breaking a tiny piece of cartilige in your spine, unfathomable pain spreading across your back, leaving you not a single second to even register what is being done to you.

Voice of the Smitten: This is what you deserve! Our punishments weren't enough yet it seems. We'll learn to love her now!

Voice of the Stubborn: You say one more word from now on and I will break your neck.

The Narrator: The pain becomes too much for your mind to comprehend. You slip into a numb, mindless state of confusion, agony, and silence. You are unresponsive, but you are not dead. Blood pools onto the marble floor of the basement underneath you. Your spine is broken in so many places, it would be impossible to count all the fractured bits. The Princess grabs your unresponsive body, dragging you up the stairs you came down from, and taking you out through the cabin's door.

Voice of the Hero: How can she do that? She wasn't able to leave the cabin before.

Voice of the Stubborn: She needs us to escape, so she's parading our corpse around as her key to salvation.

The Narrator: The Princess steps outside the cabin, facing out into the wast emptiness before her ontop of the mountain before looking down at you.......

Voice of the Hero: ... Yeah?

Voice of the Smitten: He's gone. Quick, pull whatever strength we have left together and grab her hand! At least let us have this one final moment before we depart!

The Princess: "We could've left so easily together, see?! Why did you make me do this?! ... But, I suppose it doesn't matter now. I am finally outside, and with you. But I - I didn't want it to be like this. I love you still ... It's so cold without you, all the time ......"

[But you do not get the chance to take her hand, nor do you get the chance to respond. Something has taken her and left something in her place instead.]

[THE END - Ending 1/? : "An Abusive Relationship" - Challenge the strength of your love's desires.]

[Don't like this ending? Go back to previous choices and see what you find!]

---

[180] --- The Narrator: (Sigh) Damn it. As you stand back up, your grip loosens around the blade, the weapon dropping loudly onto the floor as you and the Princess lock eyes with eachother. Her face seems to show regret.

---

[190] --- The Narrator: The whiplash from both the heavy chain and your head hitting the ground seem to knock out your senses, making you plant your bleeding and bruised face onto the marble floor. It feels cooling, allowing you a moment of peace before you feel the Princess rip your blade out from your limp hand.

The Princess: "I just want us to be happy!"

The Narrator: She raises your blade, ready to strike.

Voice of the Stubborn: Roll already! Roll anywhere that isn't right beneath her!

The Princess: "NO!"

The Narrator: As she sees you trying to roll away, she grabs your arm and pins it down. You are now laying on your back. As you look up, you see her face, tears and ruined mascara flowing down her cheeks as she raises the blade above you.

Voice of the Hero: She doesn't behave like this normally. This is like how she was in the first cycle.

Voice of the Stubborn: I am just hoping her technique is as bad as back then. We might still have a chance at pushing through this then.

Voice of the Smitten: My love, look at what they made you do. I embrace whatever death you cast upon me. If it means I'll be able to see you on the other side, I'll wait for you forever.

---CHOICE---

[Give up and let her finish you off.] [go to: 200]

[Catch the blade with your hand.] [go to: 210]

[Reach out to her.] [go to: 300]

---

[danger-xylophones]

Hello there! I’ve just been looking at some of your Tolkien asks for the elves and I thought you were a really good writer, so I was wondering if you’d be open to writing about how the elves would react to finding out their human friend had parents that didn’t get along that well or argued a lot, and just really disliked each other? I don’t even know if they’d even have a concept of that, because elvish couples love once and forever. If you don’t want to write that, it’s perfectly ok. I understand that this is a sensitive topic for a lot of people, but I just wanted to ask :) Regardless, have a nice day!

Warnings: discussion of unstable/unhappy house holds, illusions to abuse/neglect

Note: I’ve included some elves invented for ROP and The Hobbit movies

Note 2: thank you for this request, it led me down several rabbit holes and now I know exactly how fucked up Celebrimbor’s father was

Masterlist

I think the elves understand on some base level that it is possible for parents to hate each other, especially the ones that interact with humans more often like Elrond.

They’re timeless beings after all, who have seen the rise and fall of countless kingdoms of man. They know the propensity for greed and malice.

But it’s always abstract to them the same way true death is.

In the back of their minds they think it must have such an adverse effect on the child that it would be easy to spot.

Some are naive enough to assume that every person that chose to follow Morgoth and Sauron must have had parents who hated each other.

So when you reveal that you grew up in such a household it rocks their shit it startles quite a few of them.

In order from least to most surprised:

Arondir

As a guard of the south lands, he is constantly dealing with humans. He understands, I think best of all those listed, the broad range of dynamics possible in a human household and I’m sad to say he’s probably had to break up quite a few fights between parents.

So when you tell him, he’s rather unfazed. Not to say that he doesn’t care that you grew up in such a household but he knows that it isn’t something some people like to talk about. He offers you a firm squeeze on the shoulder and offers his ear should you ever want to talk about it though.

If you still live with your parents, he makes a point to start watching them more closely. He wants to be ready should he have to do something.

Elrond

Given his past list of parental figures and him being half-human, Elrond understands the best out of Tolkien’s elves. That’s not say his parents were bad but he has the best experience with uncommon households out of the elves on this list.

Younger or older, he approaches your situation with empathy. Similar to Arondir, he doesn’t try to pry but makes it clear that he is here for you if you want him to be. He also offers up a room in his house if you still live with your parents. He goes a step further though to offer a place to stay to any siblings you have as well.

He doesn’t claim to understand exactly what growing up around people like that does to one’s mental health but he is willing to do the research needed to become an advocate for you and for those who grew up like you.

Galadriel

Galadriel as we know her in the books and PJ’s films has the best intuition about the situation you grew up in. She’s incredibly mature and has a cunning to her that isn’t present in the other elves on this list.

Honestly, she might figure out that your home wasn’t exactly happy before you even tell her - catching all those little signs; the hesitation before mentioning your family, the careful censoring in certain anecdotes, or the complete lack of mentioning them. She catches them and puts two and two together.

I’m torn on if she’d ask you directly or wait for you to tell her. The first option wants for tact but I believe Galadriel can almost see the scars on your psyche and wants to help them heal. Regardless, you are always welcome in Lothlorien should the need arise.

Celebrimbor

Despite how low he is placed, Celebrimbor I think has the closest lived experience to you. He’s down this low because he thinks the shittiness of his father is an exclusive trait to him. It doesn’t actually cross his mind that humans deal with awful parents as well so he is quite shocked to learn this about you.

To be fair, we don’t know who his mother is and by all accounts her and Curufin could have had a wonderful marriage but I find this unlikely given his temper.

Celebrimbor understands best of all the shadow that rests on your shoulders - the creeping dread that rests in your heart whenever you hear a raised voice. Celebrimbor is a good person to rant to because he understands the anger the best and while his father may have committed atrocities in the name of avenging his father - he is careful not to overshadow your own tumultuous feelings whenever you do express them. He just listens, adding scathing commentary when needed.

Honestly, you revealing the truth about your own parents relieves him a little - not because you grew up like that but because someone finally understands what it’s like for him as well. None of the other elves get it. But you do.

Arwen/Elladan/Elrohir

So, the reason these three are grouped together is simple - they’re raised by Elrond. They understand the weird direction of their father’s life and he talks openly about its effect on him with all three of them as they grow up. So, they are a prime example of the elves understanding that parents hating each other is a thing that happens, but none of them have first-hand experience with it.

Arwen, to her credit understands the best out of Elrond’s children. I fully believe she inherited Elrond’s foresight and uses it to intuit what she doesn’t understand already. Still, she is surprised to hear about your parents and tries her best to get her head around it. But she is not immune to the “why did they stay together” question. In her defense, she doesn’t expect you to have an answer.

Her brothers on the other hand do ask you fully expecting you to have some wisdom about it that they don’t. Being some of the youngest elves on this list, it makes sense. They’re mature enough to know that they don’t know everything but not mature enough to comprehend that you don’t know everything either.

All three of them have a million questions but try their best not to bombard you with them. They do, however, insist to their father that he help you with housing if you or your siblings should need it.

Lindir

I believe Lindir to be a smart but sheltered elf. We don’t know how old he is so I personally believe he is on the younger side, maybe barely older than Elladan and Elrohir.

He’s bookish and as a result of that he has a very scholarly understanding of the world - so he has possibly read stories about dysfunction households. But I think he believes them inventions of the author. As in, he thinks they are isolated incidents and not unfortunately common truths for the children of men.

He is floored when you tell him. He is good about not bombarding you with questions but he will ask you why your parents married in the first place. Whether you tell him they were in love once or were a political marriage he can only nod slowly as if he understands (he does not, he is so confused). He can only offer to do what he does best - listen to you if you choose to tell him.

Gil-Galad

Gil-Galad is someone who falls victim to his own preoccupations. It never crosses his mind that the attraction patterns of men are different from elves. He’s not so sheltered to think it impossible but it’s like an out of sight out of mind thing for him. He just doesn’t realize it’s a possibility.

In his defense, he does have a lot of things to worry about as high king and unfortunately the interpersonal politics of humans are not top of the list.

But he’s curious when you tell him and he listens attentively. Whether your parents married for social gain, love, or convenience - he asks careful questions about what it was like to grow up in such an environment. He wants to help and after you tell him this, he resolves to find a way to help other humans currently caught in unhappy households. Depending on your relationship with him (I.e. if it’s platonic) he kind of adopts you. He feels like he wasn’t there for you then but he can be here for you now.

Haldir

Haldir’s hard for me to place. On the one hand, as a border guard he has the chance to interact with more humans than a lot of elves on this list. So that should put him towards the top. But I also think he has a rather insular way of thinking. As in his main concerns are for the elves of Lorien and not the travelers he meets which means he might not inquire about their family lives.

Ultimately, I think he is similar to Gil-Galad in the sense that he just doesn’t think about it. If the few men he speaks to on his travels make a reference to a singular parent, he just assumes the other died because he can’t fully wrap his head around the idea that some people have a potentially volatile home life and might only feel close to one parent. Or neither. His immediate assumption is that the reason a human doesn’t mention their parents is because they died. He doesn’t mean for it to be, it just doesn’t cross his mind on its own.

But, he actually talks to you and when you explain to him that no, they stayed married because it was easier to raise you and your siblings that way but they always fought with each other - he is so shocked. His immediate thought is why didn’t they just leave each other, but he tries to puzzle that out on his own. Ultimately, he is very thoughtful about your circumstance and tries to be someone you can vent to when you need it. If your parents are still alive, he offers to accompany you to visit them if you ever need. And he does his best to secure you a safe place in Lorien should you need it.

Glorfindel

Glorfindel is a great elven warrior able to face many things and take down balrogs. He has no idea that childhood can be one of the most challenging parts of life. And I mean that sincerely. Glorfindel is rather oblivious to the affairs of men prior to his fall. His concerns are Gondolin and the safety of his people.

Now he was alive for the kinslaying, so he is not a stranger to violence against kin. But he thinks that the bond between parents and child is almost sacred and not something easily broken. He is sad when you tell him that the children of men are excluded from the idyllic home life guaranteed to the elves.

But he’s also impressed by you. You’re a good, kind-hearted person despite the tension you grew up in. And he thinks that is something to be admired. He devotes himself to helping establish safe homes for children who grew up like you, especially post-fall and him being sent back to middle earth. And he holds up his promise long after you have perished - committing the house of the golden flower to be a symbol of safe haven.

Tauriel

So, Tauriel, I think is the most understanding of the Woodland elves - she’s a guard, she patrols, I have a feeling she comes into contact with the people of Laketown regularly enough to have experienced a variety of family dynamics.

But she doesn’t expect you to have grown up in a household like that. I think because of Laketown’s apparent poverty post the fall of Dale there is a noticeable uptake in crime. And, unfortunately a lot of crime comes from the broken homes of Laketown - youth acting out to escape their parents bickering, parents causing distress to their children and partners, things like that. I think, subconsciously, she associates unhappy homes with unhappy people.

But you don’t fit the way she thinks. You’re sweet and caring and she feels the weight of cognitive dissonance like a shackle. It takes her awhile to reconcile her view of you but she does her best not to let you see. And she’s decently good at it until she starts asking questions. But she listens carefully and starts to look for warning signs in the people of Laketown that they may need help. She petitions Legolas to speak to his farther to offer refuge to those in Laketown that may need it and asks the dwarves of Erebor to do the same.

Thranduil

Thranduil, I think, suffers from some of the most insular thinking on this list. He focuses on the affairs of his elves and pays no mind to the problems of men. It’s how he’s kept his people safe.

Now, I personally, think Oropher was not the kindest father. I think he was stern and hard to please because he expected the best of himself and his people. So, this affects Thranduil’s perspective on parents quite a bit. He may feel that he was unloved at times but he can attest that his father loved his mother even if he was not good at displaying it. His views are skewed to say the least. So he thinks you’re exaggerating at first.

If two people hated each other as much as you claim, why would they have a child together? Let alone stay together to raise that child?

It takes a lot of explaining for him to realize exactly what you grew up in. And when he does, he feels awful for not believing you. He’s not the best at apologies but he tries to make up for it by extending his services to Laketown. He does eventually find it within himself to apologize to you, directly. And asks that you help him understand.

Legolas

He is gobsmacked. Genuinely, so shocked. I firmly believe that Legolas is one of the youngest elves on this list and as a result he still has some maturing and learning to do.

If this is during the fellowship, he has to ask Boromir and Aragorn if you’re telling the truth - that two people can stay together whilst hating each other. And that it’s common amongst humans. He then gets to learn about Boromir’s childhood as well.

His heart breaks a little. He wants only the best for the people he cares about so he’s saddened and angry to hear the pain in your voice even if it. Is well hidden. He promises, as your friend, to never let you be reminded of your family’s pain. It’s a naive promise but one he means full heartedly.

Note 3: thank you so much for this request, it was a much needed break from King’s Herald and actually helped me solve a plot hole I got into. And thank you for the kind words, I’ve been worried my writing’s gotten stale but hearing that people enjoy it helps me to work out of those funks. Thank you so much.