#Lady writes things

[includedisco]

You know what dear fanfic writers?

it's okay to cry because you can't put your character's emotions into words. Dry your tears and write it however the hell you can. It's your story and it's still art

It's okay to take 5 days away because you failed to adequately describe a fight scene. Write it in two sentences if you want. You'll do better next time.

It's okay to use the same word 25 times in one chapter. It's not that deep

It's okay to have too long or too short chapters.

It's okay to be brief or to be as detailed and colourful as you want with your kiss scene. Whether they just "kiss tenderly" or you tell us all about how "his tongue tastes like honey", it's okay and we get it. You've still successfully told us that they kiss

It's okay to have 7% emotions and 300% dialogue or vice versa in your story

While dreaming of writing or working on that awesome work that's better than anything you've written so far, it's okay to allow yourself to write a few pieces that are just YOU and YOUR style, whatever that might be.

I'm not saying we shouldn't grow and improve as writers. What I'm saying is that we shouldn't punish ourselves. At the very least, let's do better because it's what we want and not because we feel pressured by anyone else to do so. You always have an audience no matter what sort of author you are.

Look, nobody is paying us to be this hard on ourselves. If anyone comes at you about your writing, tell them to show you how it's done then. Tell them to politely excuse themselves from your "bad writing". Better yet, give them your bank details so they can pay you for stepping so way out of your writing comfort zone to please them. You'll see how quickly they'll shut the fuck up

[ghostwritergirl]

DPxDC Prompt: Open Invitation

Every ghost in the Zone and out of the Zone knows about the Christmas Truce. The single day of no fighting has lasted since Christmas had been called Yuletide and other names, that every single ghost respected it and tried to make it, especially if they weren’t in the Infinite Realms. After all, when you were dead, it was fun to have a little party and cut loose without fighting and where any grudges or rivalries were temporarily suspended.

And despite being ghosts who mostly resided in the living realm, Deadman, Gentleman Ghost, Marilyn Moonlight, Lady Gotham and other ghosts like them all attended the Christmas Truce party—once, Lady Gotham had brought Solomon Grundy, and no one cared. He may be a zombie, but undead was still dead and Grundy was more halfa-adjacent if it came down to technicalities, and had been welcome there ever since. JLD, of course, had an open invitation due to their association with Deadman (though Constantine tried to avoid the Ancient of Time he hooked up with one—okay, several—times), and after Danny started attending after the Ghostwriter incident, his fraid had an open invitation too, despite how half of them were still among the living (not like it mattered anyway, since they were liminal enough to count as ghostly)

It was due to Danny’s, and later Dani’s, attendance that Lady Gotham and Deadman realised they knew a halfa, who the Truce party’s open invitation extended to even though he didn’t know. And being in the pure ectoplasm of the Realms might help the halfa with the issues of his core and the damage the Lazarus Pit had done to it, and the Phantom twins would be thrilled at meeting him, that all three weren’t alone.

So, on Christmas Eve, Lady Gotham and Deadman go into Crime Alley and bring Red Hood into the Ghost Zone to where the Truce party is being held at (re: kidnap him)

Jason has no idea where he is, who these strange, glowing people are aside from Grundy or why they’re all drinking what looks to be Lazarus Water or why he feels better than he has in years since he came back, but for some reason he doesn’t feel like he’s in danger and like a part of him belongs here, and these people haven’t batted a single eye around him and are instead encouraging him to let loose and drink some shots and have some fun, it’s a Truce party after all. And when in Rome, right?

Danny rocks up a couple hours later and has no idea why the regular human vigilante Red Hood is in the Ghost Zone or drinking ectoplasm while having the time of his life and is internally freaking out and not having a single clue that he’s a potential halfa. Yet (Dani knows, having arrived before both of them and Deadman had let her know right before he and Lady Gotham had brought Jason, and is having the time of her life meeting another halfa despite how gross his core feels and seeing Danny lose his mind before he realises, too)

Meanwhile, the Batfamily is low-key worried (read: high-key panicking) about Jason’s disappearance and trying to figure out where the hell he is.

[butteronabun]

i think i read this concept somewhere before but imagine f! reader swooning with the other ladies of mondstadt abt this one particular romance novel that has been getting popular as of late. diluc gets word of this ( maybe it’s because of elzer, or probably even kaeya, the tease ) because don’t tell anyone this but he kinda likes you.

( “. . . kinda? what are we, twelve?”

“shut it, kaeya.” )

and he wonders what the fuss is all about—

“it seems that lady,” adelinde calls your name fondly, as she stands beside the master of the house eating his dinner. “has been involved with a book club. some of the maids are members, and they told me that it had been a joyous time. they would discuss the books over delicious cups of tea and pastries that she and her friends had made.”

diluc is happy to hear this, of course, that a delightful woman such as you is having the time of her life in mondstadt. his heart skips a beat in his chest as he imagines you, the ever beautiful, endearing you, sharing anecdotes. he tries to hide the growing smile on his face as he remembers how you focus into the small and tiniest details—it is no doubt that the people in your book club are always entertained by your presence.

they’re surely lucky to have you. diluc, if only he wasn’t so busy, would actually really love to be part of that book club as well. ( “eyeing something, master diluc?” lisa winks, when diluc finds himself in the library. ) but alas, it was only reserved for ladies, and he was too shy to actually be in it.

— not until this one fateful night. not until he finally understands why.

of course, the abyss is up to no good again. diluc does his daily patrols on the outskirts and even outside of the city.

then, he hears it.

( a cackling abyss mage approaches your quivering form. you have books in your arms, tightly clutching them to your chest. you bought these for the new members of your book club as gifts since some of them can’t even afford it, and like hell you’re gonna lose them to some monster! these are expensive!

and since gods do really like tampering with fate ( or is this just destiny? ) before the abyss mage gets to throw its icicle at you, it disintegrates, and you blink upon the arrival of a familiar figure.

clad in black and donned in a mask, your lips part in shock. the smell of burnt wood and grass reaches your nostrils. the figure—the man, turns around, and you can’t help but feel a little clumsy. “t–thank you so much, um—!” some of the books fall to the ground, and you yelp. the man kneels down to grab your novels, and you feel your cheeks begin to steam. “um, wait—!” )

after rescuing you from a pesky abyss mage, diluc is really happy to get to interact with you again. last time he did was when you were in the tavern, drinking out with your peers. there, he realized how low your tolerance is, and there, he also realized how actually weak he is for you. you had been so friendly and sweet to him—you included him in your conversations and was always so understanding. how can he not like someone like you?

or maybe the cherry on top was when you invited him to go stargaze at the starsnatch cliff ( how did you not know what that meant? is it because you’re from fontaine, and you’re still getting used to mondstadt? ) and requested for only diluc. no master of the house diluc, nor wine tycoon diluc. just diluc. just himself.

he’ll do everything for you, as long as it is okay with you.

as he descends to the ground to retrieve some of the novels that you carried, diluc lifts one. he listens to you stammer— and he wonders why you’re so flustered, not until he sees the front cover.

it’s an image of a man. he’s wearing a dark getup: a dark brown tunic, black pants, and a midnight cloak. diluc ponders over why he’s getting deja vu.

then, he also has a a bird mask, and red hair peeking out from his hood. wait, red hair?

on his muscular arms, is nothing but a damsel in distress looking at him with so much adoration. much like to the expressions you’ve had with the ladies whenever you ramble about the popular book that diluc has been curious on ever since forever—

oh.

diluc raises his head slowly, and sees you fumble over you words. “mr. darknight hero, i apologize—!”

oh.

[nyxianwayfarer]

The Escort AU

Pairing: Cabernet x Fem!Reader

Rating: E

Content Tags: Jealousy, Possessiveness, Yandere Behavior (I mean, it's Cabernet, so are you really surprised?), Biting, Blood Kink (at least on Cabernet's part), Hot Tub Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Cabby also has a dick in this

Note: The first two sections are just set up for this AU since I do plan on writing more about it eventually. You can just skip to the 3rd section if you want to see Cabernet.

Additional Note: Given that you are an escort, there will be some vague mentions regarding other clients you might have had, such as Eirene and Chelsea. For the most part though, you'll be seen with Cabernet in this AU, but that's because I promised @sinful-lanterns something spicy with her wife. 🤭 ANGEY, COME GET YOUR FOOD! 😌

You originally took this job as a means to pay your mounting student loans, but you'd be lying if you weren't also a bit curious about how the upper echelons of DisCity lived their lives. Still, even with your friendly personality, even your employer was taken by surprise by how popular you'd be with the agency's clientele.

You were something of a miracle worker among your colleagues with your ability to handle some of the most difficult patrons. Such clients paid the fees for a companion, yes, but some had such a cold demeanor that it was difficult for your coworkers to perform their role to the best of their ability.

With you, however, it was very much the opposite effect.

You were capable of drawing something almost sweet out of even the most curmudgeonly or apathetic individuals.

Case in point: your first job had been with a higher-up from some intelligence department. Langley was beautiful and untouchable in the same way those millennia-old statues were—a timeless beauty in every sense of the word with her pale features and her cool, mint-green eyes that were so piercing in their intensity. That should have been her most prominent feature, but no. For you, that would have been the silvery tendrils of a seemingly spider-like mark over one of the woman's eyes, half-hidden beneath the shadows cast by the wide rim of her hat.

She had been cordial enough to you when she'd arranged to pick you up in the back of an armored limousine, but her personality seemed to shift when you both arrived at the event together. Her responses became more vague and noncommittal no matter who tried to draw her into conversation.

In fact, she seemed... bored.

While you hoped it was a result of the party—you were sure a woman of her stature had attended countless of these before to where they had long lost their excitable luster—a part of you couldn't help but think you were the cause for her standoffish behavior.

In an attempt to calm your nerves, you found yourself picking up flute after flute of champagne whenever a server passed by. You didn't know exactly how much alcohol you had imbibed over the course of those hours, but you did remember swaying enough on your feet that you felt an arm wrap around your waist to steady you.

Blearily, you looked up to see shadowed green eyes staring down at you with a raised brow—amusement just barely evident in that simple gesture. You felt the way your face heated up instantly beneath her gaze. When she quietly asked if you wanted to leave, you just shook your head sheepishly.

The entire exchange had been such a quick moment that none of the people you both had been mingling with noticed anything. Conversation continued on as normal at least until one man made some churlish remark regarding Sinners that had you bristling instantly.

Perhaps it was a result of all the alcohol you had consumed earlier, but without any mental filter in place, you soon launched yourself into a passionate tirade about Sinners and how they should be granted rights just as any citizen within DisCity.

"You stand with the likes of them?" he asked with a sneer, voice dripping condescendingly at the very thought.

"As far as I see it, they're no different than any non-Sinner: they can still be just as courteous as any other person, or they can be an absolute asshole like you," you countered.

For a moment, everything went silent. Wide eyes turned to you in surprise, and if you weren't so inebriated, perhaps you might have noticed that a few gazes had traveled to your date. Instead, you kept your eyes focused on your rival of sorts, and you felt a deep satisfaction when his face went red. From either embarrassment or rage, you couldn't tell. In any case, your moment of smugness went out the window when you heard Langley laughing loudly beside you.

Shocked, you turned to see that she had her head thrown back in delight as her laughter rang out. It was then that you realized the situation. You were here as a guest to Langley, and while her behavior seemed to indicate she was that wasn't angry at your outburst, you knew just how much the matter of reputation mattered to these people. There was a chance that you could have hurt Langley's.

Before you could apologize, the other woman pulled you closer to her side. "It seems that I've chosen a rather interesting date for the evening. Nevertheless, it's getting rather late. We should be taking our leave now."

Your group muttered their departing farewells, but you didn't put up any fight as Langley ushered you out of the building and into the backseat of a limousine that had already been waiting for you both. Langley didn't say anything else during the entire ride. Instead, she kept her focus on the tablet in her hands, typing out series of messages with a smirk still on her lips.

Your own sense of mortification was growing though, and by the time the limousine had reached your apartment, you had to insist to both Langley and her driver that you were fine to make it back to your door just fine. You wanted to distance yourself from the night as much as possible and any reminder of it.

You were certain that you had overstepped your role as an escort. That was the thought that rang in your head as you sniffed quietly in the shower, your dress all but forgotten on the tiles. Your first job as an escort, and you had ruined it. You couldn't help but groan as you eventually dragged yourself to bed, realizing that you were never going to get out of the debt of your student loans.

Although you felt guilty for it, you called into work and told them you likely weren't going to be in tomorrow. Thankfully, the receptionist sounded sympathetic, but given who your client was, she likely understand how drained you were. With that out of the way, you pulled the covers over your head and willed yourself to forget the disaster of tonight.

---THE NEXT MORNING---

You blearily woke to the sound of repeated knocking at your door. With considerable effort, you dragged yourself out of bed to answer it and found a cheerful deliveryman there.

"Good morning, ma'am! Where would you like me to set this all up?"

"Wait..." You were still trying to blink the sleep away from your eyes, but you were certain you heard him wrong. "Set what up?"

His delivery had apparently been a considerable one.

He happily wheeled in a wine chiller that—from what you could see on the box anyway—was capable of holding up to 50 bottles within it. That wasn't even the most outrageous thing. Oh, no, that went to the large wooden crate he wheeled in afterwards. Atop was a simple note that had been addressed to you.

Until next time, Rookie. -L

Inside the crate in question, however, were bottles upon bottles of champagne. Given how much you drank of it last night, she likely thought you this particular brand was your favorite.

Oh, this is just embarrassing...

As the deliveryman began settling the champagne into their new home in the wine chiller—despite your flustered insistence that you could do it instead—you were startled out of wits when you heard your phone ring.

It took a little time to find it. You had apparently tossed it aside with your dress in your drunken state, but on the screen, you could see several missed texts and calls from your employer, which only made you wince.

That surely couldn't be good.

You were able to get the call to connect before it went to voicemail. "H-hello?"

"Where have you been?!"

"Well, I—"

"Nevermind that! I don't what you did last night, but our phone lines have been ringing constantly since we opened! They're all asking for you specifically as their escort!"

You could only stare dumbfoundedly at the wall as you tried to register the information. Your employer only continued on, unaware. From their tone, they seemed absolutely delighted by this turn of events.

"Look, I know this is all probably a bit unexpected considering you just finished your first job last night," they began, "but these requests are honestly from of the biggest names in Eastside. If you accept, I can guarantee you'll be booked solid for at least the next three months. If you're interested, come down to the office whenever you can, and we can update your contract with the hours you'd like. We'll make sure you're not overworked."

---SOME TIME LATER---

From that moment on, your schedule was often booked by the most prominent individuals in the city. Countess Chelsea was a frequent client of your agency, according to your coworkers. The woman was utterly notorious for spoiling whomever was her intended companion for the day. You were no different, of course, but you were always a little skittish about wearing the accessories that were now overflowing from your jewelry box. They were all so expensive after all...

There were other names on that list too though, which included the CEO of Quinn, which had shocked your employer. The woman had apparently tried your agency's services once several years ago, but she had never made another request for as escort until after your night with Langley. Sometimes you wondered if that had been a coincidence, but you'd never seen either women interact with one another before, so perhaps you were probably overthinking the situation?

In any case, you were now hanging off Eirene's arm as she held court with her inner circle and her sea of admirers—a true queen of the business world. It hadn't been a major you pursued during college, but you understood enough to make polite conversation and offer a diplomatic rebuttal when others voiced that you didn't belong there.

The latter was something that seemed to please Eirene, strangely enough.

She wasn't a woman to wear her heart on her sleeve by any means of the imagination, but you did catch the bare hint of a smile on her lips at your remark before she turned to address another colleague. However, it was the gentle pressure of her hand against your hip that best indicated her approval—pleased with her choice of escort.

Before you could preen beneath such acknowledgment, you felt someone's eyes at your back. It wasn't a particular invasive sensation—the type meant to make you feel small and worthless.

No.

Someone wanted your attention.

Out of curiosity, you turned to look over your shoulder and from across the room, you found a pair of lavender eyes catching your gaze steadily. The woman's lips were as vibrant as her hair—a bold red—that turned upwards into a satisfied smirk, but before you could begin to imagine why, she was already turning her own attention back to her own throng of fans.

You'd heard of Cabernet before of course.

There were few who weren't aware of the sole heiress to the Franc family—an absolute marvel of the culinary world. In fact, ever since you had found yourself mingling within the circles of high society, it was rare for her not to be at any event that you were made a plus one to. She wasn't someone one could easily miss in a crowd. Like Eirene, the woman was a queen of her chosen field, and she was to be given just as much admiration and respect.

"So this is what money gets you, eh?"

You felt Eirene stiffen next to you at the words, and she pulled you further into her space before a wandering man could stumble directly into you. Your eyes were still watering from how much alcohol you smell on his breath as he attempted to proposition you.

"I've got what you need, girl. After we're done, you might as well be paying me for the pleasure!" he declared, breaking out into uproarious laughter at his own words, heedless of the scene he was causing.

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

He jerked his head unsteadily towards your date, who was currently waving two of the security team over. "She bought you, didn't she?" He scoffed. "I don't care how fancy they dress you girls up in. You can't be any better than the whores that line up at the corners of the Red Light District."

His words brought a round of sharp gasps from the guests around you. While this hadn't been the first time someone had made baseless assumptions about your duties as an escort, it was still an annoyance—one you were going to correct.

"I don't know you think you are, but—"

"Mr. Moreau."

You watched with almost bewildered fascination as color seemed to drain from your harasser's face at the call of his apparent name. Not that he could be blamed. There was little mistaking the authority in the voice addressing him even with the calm elegance it had been delivered with, for standing behind him was none other than Cabernet Franc herself.

"I believe you've outstayed your welcome here."

"I take it you know this man?" Eirene inferred coolly even as security finally managed to weave their way through the crowd.

"Him? Ah, yes. He was the owner and Executive Chef at La Rouge."

There was a rush of shocked murmurs at this revelation, which only left you more confused, but with the sudden scrutiny directed towards him, the man soon began shrinking almost into himself. Cabernet placed her hands primly atop her cane as she regarded Eirene.

"Would you let me handle this?"

A current of... something seemed to pass between the two women, but then Eirene nodded curtly.

"I'll defer to your wisdom on this if you'd prefer to deal with him. Do let me know if security will be needed. I may as well get my money's worth for their presence tonight."

Upon the acceptance of her offer, you were almost convinced Cabernet's lavender eyes seemed to glow, but they soon were hidden again as she lidded them, smiling, expression utterly serene. "Oh, that won't be necessary. I'm sure it's hardly escaped anyone's notice how far he's fallen in his misfortune. I believe an intervention coaxing him towards the help he needs would be far kinder."

And then Cabernet had led the man away although the latter looked more like a misbegotten pup timidly following after its owner. Nevertheless, activity within the ballroom seemed to return to normal again, enough to where Eirene had escorted you out onto the floor to dance once the music started up again. She led your steps, of course, but as you followed her lead, you couldn't help but ask her about Moreau.

Your eyes widened in response to the information.

You'd heard of La Rouge in passing but not necessarily of the chef at its head. It had apparently been one of the most popular restaurants when it debuted in Eastside several years ago. It had earned considerable acclaim by the city's elite.

...at least until Cabernet had dined there one evening.

You weren't as much of a foodie as some of your colleagues were, but the general impression was that while the woman hadn't been particularly scathing in her review, it seemed she had still been deeply unimpressed. From there, attendance to La Rouge sharply declined even when Moreau desperately tried to keep it afloat with only a skeleton staff at hand. However, given the high rent for such a large establishment in one of the premier locations of Eastside along with dwindling profits, La Rouge closed its doors within the same year of Cabernet's visit.

You weren't entirely certain how many songs you and Eirene had both danced to, but it was easy enough to notice how she slowly stopped moving. You looked up in confusion only to see her gaze directed over your head. Your lips parted to voice your worry only to have someone else speak behind you.

"Might I trouble your date for one dance before the evening is over, Miss Campbell?"

As if she couldn't allow the very thought of her to leave your mind, there Cabernet stood behind you with a smile. When Eirene didn't answer, however, you glanced up to see her looking at you expectantly. It was clear that while she paid for your services for the night, she wouldn't take your autonomy away from you. You just shrugged sheepishly.

"I don't mind."

Eirene seemed to have anticipated this however, but her gaze was still sharp as she regarded Cabernet whose expression remained as tranquil as ever. "You have one dance then," she declared coolly as she released your hands. "And not a moment longer."

---

"I'd almost believed she wouldn't part with you."

"Eirene?" you asked aloud as Cabernet led you into a slow waltz. "She's been kind." Truthfully, she'd been nothing of courteous towards you. All your clients were actually—even the ones with seemingly unapproachable reputations.

"Yes. She normally doesn't take an interest in anyone enough to allow them to accompany her to these events. When I saw you walk in on her arm, I knew you had to be quite special. You must be in order to tread the waters of this world so easily."

Her words seemed especially cryptic, but given how particularly cutthroat the corporate world could be for the uninitiated, you wouldn't be surprised if she were warning you of some danger, especially given the scene earlier.

"That man from earlier... Mr. Moreau? He didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

She blinked, almost taken aback by your concern. Then, she threw her head back in gentle laughter. "Oh, Sweet Morsel... You're so very adorable. For a man like that to bother me, he'd have to have the fangs necessary to do so. As it was, he was little more than a gnat buzzing by my ear—a minor inconvenience if noticed, but in the grand scheme of things?" When she smiled, you almost thought you caught the edge of something sharp in the gesture. "He's inconsequential at best. He likely understands that more readily now after our conversation, but let's not concern ourselves with the rabble. Certainly not when I've waited this long to formally meet you."

Technically, you hadn't even introduced yourself to her yet, and you were about to voice that when you suddenly began blushing as she leaned her head down towards you. She grinned.

"They may have won your attention first, but I'll have my time with you yet..."

Without really meaning to, you found yourself getting lost in her eyes. Did they seem brighter than normal? And who were they?

A small gasp left your lips as she slid her cheek past yours—in lieu of a kiss apparently—to whisper in your ear.

"Until next time, Sweet Morsel of mine..."

---SOME TIME LATER---

It was hardly any wonder that Cabernet found herself booked into your schedule.

Your duties as an escort were to offer a sense of comfortable companionship, especially when it came to social events. Involving yourself with someone else in that manner, however, offered a connection at times—one that could be seen as intimate. That intimacy could take shape in many forms.

The Countess spoiled you with any material thing that held your attention for more than a few seconds, and PDA was always a given with her. In fact, she highly encouraged it with you!

Quinn's CEO and the 9th Agency's Director always acted as befitting of their roles in the public eye, so they were more subtle in their affections. In the bedroom, however, they saw that your needs were always met as well as theirs, but nothing could really prepare you for how ravenous Cabernet's sexual appetite was...

It was somewhat surprising since she seemed to keep a certain amount of distance between herself and others. With you, however, she was always touching you in some manner. It could be chaste as handholding or her palm upon your hip to help direct you through crowded parties. Sometimes, it was more overt like with a nip at your ear when she felt you weren't paying enough attention to her. Regardless, it seemed she constantly wanted you near her, much to the envy of her admirers. Nothing was ever done without your consent, of course, and you couldn't deny the burst of thrill at some of the escapades you two got into.

As if knowing you were thinking about her, you felt the bulge of her cock hardening beneath your bottom. You made to shift your weight off her lap, concerned that you might be making her uncomfortable, but she wrapped her arms around your middle, keeping you in place.

Cabernet had invited you as her plus one to the grand opening of a restaurant. The Executive Chef had personally invited her to attend, and as a guest of honor, she had also given her a table consisting of only you and her. There had been two chairs to sit at of course—both on the same side at Cabernet's insistence. Still, it wasn't long until Cabernet had also suggested you sit upon a far better seat...

"Did you do as I asked?" she murmured as she pressed a line of kisses against the back of your shoulder.

You couldn't help but blush as you eyed the tables around you both, but the other attendants were more focused on the meals in from of them. "Yes."

Cabernet had requested that you wear your dress without any underwear. The garment had been personally handpicked by her for the long slit up the sides. Her own dress was was a dark plum in color that looked almost black under certain lighting. It also had two artistically-asymmetrical slits along the left side of her body that exposed parts of her pale skin. The trim along the opened edges held adornments that looked like crystal black teeth, so the visual effect was as if there were two gaping maws waiting to consume anything near it.

It was an interesting choice.

You thought it was a fun little nod to the event itself. Still, you couldn't deny the easy access Cabernet's dress provided for you both. You moved the train of your dress out of the way while reaching behind you to fish for Cabernet's cock. You could feel how she was already half hard as your fingers wrapped around her. She helped raise you off her lap enough so that you could guide the thick tip towards your entrance. Once the head sank in, you felt the weight of her shaft immediately behind it. You were already wet from the anticipation of her request, so it didn't take much more than a bit of slow rocking between you both to have her fully seated inside you.

You felt her warm breath against your neck as she sighed contentedly. She gave one more indulgent rock of her hips, which you had to bite your lip against to keep from moaning aloud. Then, she proceeded to pick up her silverware and cut into the fish that had been served to you both. You were eating more than she was, but that wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Her explanation always seemed to be that she was far more interested in your thoughts on food.

All the while, she remained hard inside you, and you could feel every twitch of her shaft with every move she made. Although you were both in a rather scandalous situation, the idea wasn't really for her to reach her peak anytime soon. Cabernet just loved feeling you wrapped around her like this, and she wanted to savor it for the entire event.

You were in the middle of sampling another bite of the flaky fish from her fork, and you nearly choked on it when you saw a waiter heading towards you both to refill your drinks. Cabernet, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit bothered. With the large white napkin covering your lap and the loose, flowing length of your dress covering her own, nothing seemed at all amiss for the waiter. If he noticed your blush, he likely assumed it to be a result of you simply sitting atop your date's lap. After all, Cabernet Franc rarely handed out attention like this so easily.

When you were both left alone again, she praised you for keeping your composure so well.

"Well done, my dear." She rewarded you by thrusting up into you once, which left you gasping. She smirked. "All in all, I'd say this was a rather enjoyable evening although I'm not entirely certain the food was worth all the fanfare. Your presence more than made up for it. Speaking of which..." She licked at the shell of your ear, which had you shivering pleasurably. "I'm expected to be at another banquet in two weeks' time. Will you be free to attend it with me?"

"I..." You were almost ready to accept the offer immediately, but then you frowned as you reached for your phone. "Wait, let me check my calendar first."

As you scrolled through your schedule for the month, you noticed how her grip seemed to tighten almost imperceptibly at your waist—perhaps disconcerted with the fact that you didn't immediately know the answer to her question.

it couldn't be helped though.

As one of the more popular girls of the escort company, your schedule was often packed. Still, you couldn't help but feel disappointed when you saw an event booked throughout the entire week Cabernet had been requesting. When you turned your head to relay all this to her, she seemed understanding. Her smile remained polite as always towards you, but you couldn't help but notice how her eyes seemed to harden at their edges.

"Very well, Sweet Girl... I can wait."

---A MONTH LATER---

A limousine had been called to take you to Cabernet's estate. It was already well into the evening, but the party within still seemed to be in full swing. You thanked the driver as he opened the car door for you, but you couldn't help but shiver as the night air fell upon you.

"There's my darling sugar baby!"

You looked up to see Countess Chelsea coming down the stairs with a grin upon her face at your presence. At your appearance, however, her expression turned to one of concern.

"And you look like you're about to catch your death out here."

Chelsea pulled her own coat off to settle it upon your shoulders. Given the extravagant amount of fur on it, it still retained a great deal of the woman's body heat, and you could feel it warming you up instantly. You were going to protest the offer since now Chelsea would be the one left out in the cold, but the woman merely wagged a finger at your playfully.

"Now, now. Don't argue. I'm hardly going to be out here for long." And true to her word, her own pink limousine pulled up to the front of the estate.

"Ah. You're leaving already?"

"Yes. I have a business meeting overseas that I need to get to, so I stayed long enough to greet our guest of honor and mingle for a little bit." She grinned. "But don't be sad, babe! You know you and I will see each other again eventually!" Her eyes seemed to sparkle delightedly as she leaned down to press a parting kiss to your cheek. "Now get inside! No reason to stay out in this weather!"

The temperature inside was considerably warmer thankfully. This was the first time you'd actually been to Cabernet's estate though, and you weren't quite certain where to go. Fate, however, seemed to smile upon you because you heard a familiar voice calling out to you.

"There you are, Sweet Girl."

You looked up just in time to see Cabernet descending the staircase near the foyer. She was dressed to the nines, looking like an absolute dream in the dark sheath that hugged every curve of her body. Her expression indicated she was happy to see you, but you saw how her steps and her smile seemed to freeze in place when she took in Countess Chelsea's signature fur coat draped around your shoulders.

"I see someone else has already gotten to you first." Her tone was even and calm even if you couldn't help but fidget in place beneath it.

"I ran into the Countess on the way in. She was just worried that I'd be cold."

"Well..." Cabernet fully descended the steps then, and she wrapped her arm around your waist to guide you elsewhere. "You don't need to worry about such things in here. Come. Let me help you put that away."

---IN THE COAT CLOSET---

It was ridiculous that something as mundane as a coat closet could somehow be twice the size of your own apartment. The ones in Cabernet's estate boasted rows upon rows of shelves and racks for guests to put their outerwear and accessories away, but the space of the room wasn't what was taking your breath away.

Cabernet was doing that well enough on her own.

She had pushed you in to the farthest corner of the room behind from shelving, and you barely had time to turn around to face her before she was on you. Your borrowed coat had fallen to the floor beneath you, and for that, you were grateful. The garment had likely saved you from potential carpet burn from how hard Cabernet seemed to be thrusting into you. She didn't take time to pull your underwear off. She just moved it far enough to the side to slip inside you. From her pace, it was like she was trying to imprint her very essence into your soul.

You already came twice from her complete and single-minded determination in that regard. You were just coming down from the lull of your latest orgasm when you looked up at her curiously. She looked as magnificent as ever even with her mane of wild, crimson hair, looking every bit like a huntress who had caught her prey. Still, you found yourself paying attention to those unique eyes of hers. They seemed to be... lighter?

Before you ponder upon that fact for more than a second though, you found yourself suddenly flipped you over onto your stomach. You couldn't stop your breathless curse of surprise against the fur coat beneath you when she thrusted into you again.

Cabernet always felt bigger when she took you from behind.

And you knew she still hadn't come yet.

The girth of her cock inside you felt as heavy as ever, and she definitely made you feel it. While your upper torso was still pressed to the floor, she effortlessly lifted you up by your hips to hammer into you—unsatisfied by any amount of distance between you both. The slap of flesh in the otherwise empty room felt like thunder going off inside your ears, and you moaned helplessly when you felt her teeth at the crook of your neck.

Cabernet still needed more.

You knew enough of her sexual appetite to understand this side of her.

Weakly, you reached behind you to touch Cabernet's hand atop your thigh, which she gripped tightly, as if trying to make sure you couldn't move away. You felt the rumbling whine against your neck like she was anticipating you wanting her to stop or slow down when she had yet to be satisfied.

Instead, you entwined your fingers with hers, pressing her palm firmly against your thigh. "You...you can go harder," you said breathlessly.

There was a moment when Cabernet completely went still above you at your words.

Then, she released an absolutely carnal moan before she placed a hand at the small of your back. The force was enough that your knees immediately splayed out on either side of you to where you were now pressed completely flat against the floor. She roughly rucked up the length of your dress to bunch it around around your waist, and you could feel the fur of the coat brush against your inner thighs with every thrust. You felt that sensation most keenly at your clit as the fine strands parted and wrapped itself around the little nub with every stroke back and forth.

Cabernet seemed to keep you in torment that way for the longest time as she held you down and completely laid into you. While you had tried to remain quiet in the beginning—you were still at a party after all—Cabernet would roll her hips in such a way to press at a point inside you that you couldn't help but cry out.

You heard a gasp that came from neither of you along with quick, muffled footsteps leading further away until the door to the coat closet slammed shut. In your current state, you couldn't even begin to tell how far the guest—or even guests perhaps—had intruded into the room before finding you both. Ordinarily, you'd be embarrassed beyond belief at being caught in such a predicament.

Instead, you only tightened harder around Cabernet's cock, and that was finally enough to send her over the edge. You felt the pinprick of pain at your neck first before the deep throb of her shaft, sending wave after wave of seed inside you. You hadn't seen each other in over a month, and you could only imagine how badly she'd been backed up.

After some time, she finally released your neck from her teeth, and she was kind enough to lick away the slow trickle of blood as she idly rocked her hips into you, still trying to ensure enough of her remained inside you as possible. As the guest of honor, however, she couldn't remain gone forever, no matter how much you both wished otherwise.

It was with immense reluctance that she pulled out of you at all, and you whimpered when your oversensitive cunt was finally empty. You could still feel her warm seed spilling out of you though. It was forming a sticky mess between your legs as it seeped into the fur coat beneath you.

You felt like a newborn foal as you were helped onto your shaky legs. It felt unfair that Cabernet already looked more presentable than you —not to mention a great deal more relaxed. It was as if the past hour hadn't occurred at all for her, but you still felt the powerful aftereffects of her affections.

She helped wipe away most of the evidence splattered across your thighs with the discarded coat, but then she slid your underwear back into place, stopping the slow flow of cum still inside you. With a pleased hum, she gently patted your folds, which had you blushing harder with the words that came after.

"A late night snack for me to enjoy later."

Cabernet had scheduled you for the entire weekend, and you still had the whole night to get through with her first. Now thoroughly satisfied, she led you out of the room. You made to grab Chelsea's coat off the floor, feeling awkward for simply leaving it there, but Cabernet's grip was firm.

"Leave it," she said, her tone dismissive of the item. "It's already soiled after all. We've much better things to concern ourselves with."

---AFTERPARTY---

You thanked all your lucky stars that all the guests had already gone home for the evening because you were certain the hot tub wasn't meant to be utilized this way...

A sharp cry left you throat, and you placed your hands over Cabernet's forearms to help steady yourself as you leaned back against her. With her strength, she had positioned you until you were in front of one of the jets. You were gasping for breath when you felt the strong stream of water hitting your clit. Your entire body shook when she pulled back the hood on the already oversensitive nub, exposing as much of it as possible to the tub jet. The sensation was enough to make you cum, your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing although that wouldn't be the case for long.

Cabernet took the opportunity to slide herself eagerly into you while you were still in the throes of your climax. Mercifully, however, she moved you away from the jet of water, knowing the dual stimulation was far too much for you to handle at the moment. She moved to sit back down on the tub's bench, content to let you cockwarm her. However, just as Cabernet was greedy for your touch, you were just as greedy for hers.

As such, you turned yourself around in her lap and began riding her slowly beneath the moonlight as she laid her arms out on the side of the tub, smirking up at you. After all, who wouldn't be smug at having a beautiful woman ride them?

With the excitement you both shared earlier though, you weren't in any rush to reach another high, and she understood that. She sighed with satisfaction as she dropped her head back, letting her rich, red hair fan out behind her. You bit your lap at such a sensual image, unconsciously squeezing around her, which she encouraged with a subtle rock of her hips.

"Sweet Girl, I will offer you anything you desire," she said, and the yearning tone had you looking at her once more. Even beneath those hooded eyes, you were certain they were glowing this time, but Cabernet didn't seem the least bit interested in hiding them. In fact, as she palmed your hips, she seemed to encourage you to look your fill, letting you fall beneath the gaze of a predator who would never know a hunger sated.

At least not when it came to you.

Her smile was sharp and all-consuming as she regarded you. "So long as you are mine..."

[bluerosefox]

Over Tea

A sudden chill sweeps through Gotham, almost like Mr. Freeze had just attacked only thing was the man was currently locked away in Arkham, and was felt by all. And talked by all via word of mouth and on social media as well.

The clouds and smog that covered their dark city shifted and swirled, a rumble beginning deep inside them as the weather turned from smoggy to rain and thunder with no real warning. The strangest thing was the green glow that could be seen when thunder rumbled inside the gray clouds.

Then like a candle being blown out, the rumbling stopped, the rain ended, and the clouds parted all over Gotham.

For the first time in a while Gotham had a clear sky and it felt... it felt like something heavy had been lifted off the city.

It was this sudden shift and the all felt chill that had set off alerts for Batman and his family. Since early morning since the first change and shift happened he was in front of the Batcomputer trying to narrow down where it started.

After hours of searching with the help of Red Robin, Oracle and strangely enough Red Hood, they managed to narrow down where the odd power had been coming from.

Was still coming from, only very low.

The old and abandoned observatory tower.

-x-x-

"More ecto-tea Lady Gotham?" Danny asked, his hand waving towards the steaming pot nearby.

The woman smiled lightly, her dark painted lips curling up to show her sharp fangs for a moment before saying "No but thank you Young Kingling though I would like more cookies if you don't mind. Now where were we?"

Danny nodded towards her and signaled towards a maid skeleton ghost who walked forward with a tray of cookies. The maid swiftly placed a few more cookies on the spirit embodiment of Gotham plate before bowing and stepping away.

"We were just about to discuss the sentience of the Court of Owls." Danny said as he lightly tapped the large almost mountain of paperwork on the table they were sitting at, floating high above the floor as shooting stars and planets drifted around them. Many ghosts floated around as well, servants that had sworn their loyalty to the Young King, and were preparing things like snacks and drinks for two powerful beings in the room as they discussed business. Nearby doors and windows though were ghostly knights that stood tall and alert, making sure no interlopers interrupted the meeting taking place and ready to defend not only Lady Gotham but their King.

"Ah yes them." Lady Gotham grimaced as she took a drink of her ecto-tea. "That will take some time for us to discuss, they've been running around unchecked for to long and even with my limited abilities to hinder them has been less than ideal."

"You, Lady G, were deeply cursed for many, many years and I just broke most of it." Danny cut in quickly, he was not about to let this wonderful and powerful city spirit blame herself for something out of her hands "Due to said curse you couldn't do much so please don't go blaming yourself. Its mostly broken now, so you can freely start healing yourself and your city self now that jerk demon that cursed you is in Walker's prison for his crimes."

Lady Gotham grew silent for a moment, her dark eyes staring deeply at the young King but then warmly smiled, well as warm as she could seeing how she was Gotham itself. "You reminded me of my Knight, Young King, treating me like this. Not afraid to point out the truth and facts."

Danny gave a light laugh as he took a hold of one of the cookies on his plate and gave a bite "I'll take that as a compliment Lady Gotham. Now about those Court of Owls...."

[oh-no-its-bird]

Since Ichigo dies at about 15, and Hatake get their marks at like 14? what do her clan markings look like? 👀

OHHH OK THIS IS ACTUALLY A WHOLE THING, SO,

Ichigo got moon stripes !! It's also known as the story teller stripes, and is the traditional tattoos of the Hatake clan's religious leader and story keeper. Which Ichigo does end up in training to become!

There's actually a bit of drama with the fact that Yuki, the current clan shaman, is so old (she's in her 70's, which is basically like being in her 120's for a shinobi), and she's only now picking an apprentice in Ichigo.

Yuki did actually have an apprentice before, who was fully trained and set up to take up the position whenever Yuki died— but they were one of the 5 Hatake to die to illness the winter before the Hatake were summoned to iron court (which is the event that got the ball rolling on the Hatake joining Konoha a year or two later)

Yuki settled on Ichigo being her next apprentice relatively quickly after that, but wouldn't actually tell anyone about it for some more years— stubbornly staying quiet on the topic even when pressed with increasingly stressed and worried questions about it. Ichigo was only about 8 at the time, but Yuki set to training her just a little bit under the table

It was easy enough, when Ichigo was always happy to listen to her stories and gossip about past and present events. Ichigo kind of ended up soaking in a lot of things she'd be expected to learn in the role (religious rights / mythos of spirits and gods / traditions and why they do them / stories passed down through the family / etc.) naturally throughout the years.

Finally, Ichigo turned 14 and lead her first hunt— the marker of a Hatake coming of age. Afterwards, it was Yuki's job to give her the stripes Yuki deemed to 'fit her best,' which is ofc when she gave her the moon stripes and officially announced her plans with a "teehee congrats <3"

It wasn't actually too much of a surprise to those who'd been paying attention to what had been going on, but still caught some off guard. Ichigo had been "training" for like, 6 whole years at that point, without even realizing it. So she was honestly pretty well into her education on the roll, and would probably only need a few more years afterwards to be deemed officially ready to take it on

But then ofc, she dies a year later. And Yuki dies in very quick succession. (Losing her third apprentice, and so old already, had done terrible things to her heart and spirit) And with both of them went a very large portion of the clans history.

Others in the clan, of course, still knew plenty. Yuki's teachings had not been for Ichigo alone, and many had sat by her side and listened to her stories as well. But no single person knew as much as they had or had been in the same position of authority to do things like honoring the spirits of their ancestors or assigning Hatake stripes to their young.

In their deaths, Haruka had to take up many of their duties, mostly by default via being the highest other figure of respect in that regard. But they lost a lot.

There's some sort of interesting point to be made that the Hatake's religious leader wears tattoos that symbolize a red moon. And that Kaguya-hime is among the gods they pay respects to.

I don't really have any real thoughts on it other than going "hmm." and writing that down to reference later, but like !! That's something

anyways Yuki herself is also pretty cute, I find myself enjoying her immensely, so take this art I drew for her the other day that I've been looking for an excuse to post:

[mortalstrife]

Animals! Brutal! They deserve no mercy. Strike them down! Follow them to their base and kill them, all of them!🔺I did not realize similarity was required for the exercise of compassion. They are afraid. We wish only to do what we can.

minvember prompt 3: crowd

[isawken]

today’s the ten year anniversary of me getting out of the psych ward. originally i had the thought of doing some bright beautiful polished photoshoot to memorialize the occasion, but i changed my mind last minute. i took these in 90 degree weather, intense humidity, covered in dirt and mulberry juice and bug bites and so so so much sweat but im alive bitch i am thirty years old despite younger ken’s best efforts and no matter how much it can suck this whole "living" shit actually rules and i intend to live for as many more thirty years as i possibly can. and i highly recommend that you do too 🫶

[letmyrighthandbeforgotten]

My comprehensive Mel Medarda analysis.

I think it’s easy to separate people who talk about Mel into three groups: people who ship jayvik and hate Mel, people who ship jayvik and “like” Mel in a way that simplifies her almost past recognition, and people who hate jayvik and love Mel (sometimes while simplifying her). And I am someone who loves jayvik and Mel, but I definitely do not ship Jay/Mel, or Jay/Mel/Vik. And I think there’s a dearth of good Mel meta. 

I have three main points: 1) All of the main cast are an antagonist to another member of that same cast. If you don't acknowledge that, then you're not really engaging with the show, you're writing an au in your head. Which you can do! I love au's where all the characters are friends. But that's not the show. 2) Mel IS a corrupt politician who uses manipulation as a tactic; she is also an empath and someone who cares deeply. I do not think these are unrelated facets of her character, but actually deeply related to each other, integral to who she is, and directly resulting from how she was raised. 3) Mel and Jayce are not a good couple, and that makes both of them more interesting.

A/N: And before anyone tries to play identity politics with me, I am a queer, utterly broke woman of color! Mel and Viktor are both dear to me! They are not in competition for my affection! 

Mel the Politician: 

I think of Mel as someone who WANTS to be good but was never taught how, so her initial attempts at goodness fail. Manipulation seems to her a good middle ground from the violence she was raised in. She does not see it as a different, but still horrific type of violence because she was immersed in so much overt violence growing up. 

Mel is introduced in episode 2, which focuses more evenly on the Piltover cast whereas episode 1 focused entirely on establishing the Zaunite characters with Piltover as a villain. Mel stands in direct contrast to them. And make no mistake — from Zaun's perspective, Mel IS an antagonist. Episode 1 shows us enforcers murdering Zaunites on the bridge and Vi openly saying that no one in Piltover is going hungry, in direct contrast to the undercity. With that context, let's look at Mel's introduction.

Mel is introduced to us as the epitome of the Piltover elite. In her opening scene, she stands in a huge room, presumably an office or similar, having a private meeting with a merchant there to sell her something. She almost entirely ignores the merchant in favor of speaking to her assistant Elora, who outright states Mel is the richest woman in Piltover. Mel immediately bemoans the fact that she is still the poorest Medarda. Remember: this scene does not exist in a vacuum. Mel is standing in a room larger than the one shared by Vander’s 4 children, and still complaining that she doesn’t have enough. I think that we the audience are meant to go "is she for real right now?" The sun shines on Mel, and the undercity is covered in smog. 

In retrospect, this scene also introduces Mel's conflict with her family and identity as a Medarda. But again, in retrospect. We don't have that context at the moment. Mel does not exist independently of the Zaunite characters, though she might think she does at first; they are all tightly woven together. Mel is not introduced as cruel — and I don’t think she is cruel on a personal level — but she is introduced as the exact type of person who directly benefits from the oppression of the undercity. This is not by accident. Mel is that person. And she does not need to be intentionally cruel for her actions to have cruel effects.

Some people want to hate the council without acknowledging that Mel is one of them. That is willful ignorance and erasure.

(also look how stupid they all look. why are they posing. Mel is the only one who kind of looks cool, the rest are just funny.) 

Mel is not just a part of the council, she is their de-facto leader after Heimerdinger (gonna expand on this later). She is the one who first addresses Marcus and Grayson directly in this scene. The kind of violence Mel and the council inflict is the kind of silent violence oppressed communities experience every day: Sending enforcers to do their dirty work. Restricting commerce, and therefore inflicting poverty on an already impoverished community. Raiding and searching everyone in Zaun, regardless of if you have any reason to think they’re connected to what actually happened. While characters like Jinx, Vi, Sevika, and Silco are directly, physically violent, this is the kind of insidious violence that is accepted as the norm. To draw a comparison from our world, why does the world care when the head of a health insurance company is murdered, but not when that company denies healthcare and lets people die every day? When our healthcare system sends people into debt for daring to live? Why do we care when violence is done with a gun, but not a pen? They are wealthy, they have power, therefore it is accepted that they have the right to benefit from other’s suffering. 

This is obviously an incomplete view of Mel … but it’s not inaccurate. Anyone from Zaun in universe would have reason to hate her.

I would argue that this is the Mel we see from episodes 1-7. Someone who is beautiful, charming, sounds nice enough, but ultimately self-interested and who benefits from the suffering of others without a thought. 

But then episode 8 feeds us. Let's talk about her flashback scene.

Mel’s Relationship to Power and Goodness: 

This scene haunts me. I love this whole scene so much. This is where we are introduced to Ambessa. And oh, what an impression it is. 

Suddenly, a lot about Mel clicks into place. We see past her mask of perfection and realize she is still a child with a mother who is violent and loves her dearly.  Who says her violence is for her family. Done in Mel’s name, no matter how much she does not want it.

They stand in a destroyed throne room that belonged to someone Ambessa conquered. Ambessa characterizes herself as a wolf and Mel as a fox. We immediately know what Ambessa was like and how Mel was raised. Ambessa is brutal and merciless; Mel uses guile and trickery. Ambessa crushed the throne; Mel talks about what sort of puppet leader they should install to control. But to her mother, it is not enough for Mel to be a good politician. She needs to be without mercy. Brutal. This is the kind of violence Mel understands, the kind she was raised in. And it is what she abhors. 

Then Ambessa asks Mel what they should do with this girl. A living symbol of a power that Ambessa has conquered, a member of the old regime, and as young as Mel herself. Ambessa plans to kill her; that much is clear. But what Mel suggests is also cruel. Stripped of her lands and titles, banished from her home, her family and people dead. That's horrible! That's a horrible way to live! 

And Ambessa doesn’t even let her have that. No wonder Mel doesn’t recognize her own actions as cruelty when this was the alternative she was shown. She does not know kindness. She only knows violence or political games. She was taught to seize power and hold onto it. There is no other option. Not that she knows. 

(This girl’s name is Mion by the way. Look at how she looks down and away from Ambessa, versus how she looks at Mel with hope 🥺) (And if I say that this is the character I ship with Mel. That I have a whole canon divergent au in my head where she lived and grew up alongside Mel, developing a deeply unhealthy, uneven, and codependent but ultimately loving relationship. What then.) 

I love that this moment haunts her. It's not just a flashback for the audience, Mel is actively having a nightmare about it years later. She paints the girl's bloodied necklace. She's one of the forms LeBlanc takes to speak to her, and it's her necklace that Mel uses as a power conduit in her final confrontation with Ambessa. She carries this moment with her for over a decade. It’s when she loses her mother and when Ambessa loses her daughter. This is Mel’s loss of innocence.

With this in mind, it’s suddenly clear why Mel is the way she is as an adult. The council casts Jinx and Silco as violent, but utterly fails to comprehend that violence is not inherent to them. It is directly because of Piltover's treatment of them. Neither Jinx nor Silco start out as cruel people. They were created, not born. But while other members of the council are either willfully ignorant (Heimerdinger) or casually cruel because they genuinely don’t view the Zaunites as actual people, Mel seems to not realize her own cruelty. She does not mean to be cruel. I don’t think she wants to be. I think that she believes this is genuinely the best option that still lets her hold power. And power is everything. Power is how you make sure no one hurts you the way Ambessa has hurt others. But foxes and wolves are both predators, no matter how they kill you. 

So what changes? 

I’ve only accelerated a process that you started. Mel says she wanted to protect the city. I believe her. She believes herself. But what parts of the city? Certainly not the undercity, who have no access to Hextech despite Jayce and Viktor’s own desires. Not the people for whom violence, disease, and starvation are just a part of life. Mel has tried to be good; Mel has failed. Now her own mother bluntly tells her that Mel is the one who started this; Ambessa only intends to finish it. 

This is the scene where Ambessa tells Mel why she was sent away: she weakened her. Ambessa couldn’t make the necessary decisions (note how she says it; necessary decisions, not hard ones) and look Mel in the eye. Everything Ambessa did was out of love … 

And look what she did. 

I believe that this scene with Ambessa is Mel’s “my god, what have I done” moment. Maybe she had good intentions; so did her mother, in her own way. Intention hardly matters when these are the results. It is after this moment that Mel votes for Zaun’s independence. That she works with Lest. Mel finally starts to see the harm she has done, and she decides that she must undo it. Mel has failed … but she will keep trying until she gets it right.

Mel’s relationship with Jayce (and Viktor): 

This is the controversial part of my analysis. But what can you do? 

Here’s the thing: I think that most of Mel and Jayce’s interactions are knee-deep at best. They like each other on the surface, but they do not deeply understand each other. And once they do, they realize that they do not match. They are not meant to be. 

To me, Mel and Jayce are fundamentally different. That’s fine. You want characters to be different, you want that push and pull. But Mel is a politician, a power player. The person who looks at the pieces on the board and tries to maximize her own influence. (And to be clear: Mel is allowed to want power. That is a good and fine trait for a character to have. It creates conflict for her character and we see her use that power for good in season 2 before she is unceremoniously yanked off screen.) Jayce is an inventor. A dreamer. He wants to change the world. Not for his own sake, not for power, but because he just wants to make things better for everyone. Oh, he also wants recognition. Who wouldn’t? But he wants it to come as a result of the good he does. And he has an obsession with magic, but because that magic saves him. 

Let’s look at the scene where Jayce becomes a councilor. 

He’s stressed, he’s breathing heavily, he’s looking around like he desperately wants someone to put a stop to this. The camera spins, like Jayce is getting dizzy. His expression … he looks hunted. Viktor is the only one who notices his distress, but is powerless to stop it. Mel might not be a wolf yet, but she is a powerhouse, steamrolling over everyone else. After all, she knows what’s best, right? OBVIOUSLY Jayce wants this life, he just doesn’t know it yet. This is as close to goodness as she knows, and Jayce wants to do good, right? Doesn’t everyone want that kind of power? (Mel, you break my heart)

But Mel cannot understand Jayce at this point because she doesn’t fully understand herself (see everything with Ambessa). It's only after the two are separately isolated and forced to self-reflect that they actually understand each other … and it is as their whole selves that they realize they do not fit together. Season 1 Jayce/Mel could work BECAUSE they are not yet who they are meant to be, instead bowing to the expectations of others and themselves. The golden children of Piltover, they look good together, they are expected to be together … but they are not meant to be. 

I think Mel IS subtly manipulative of Jayce in the same way she is for everyone else on the council and in high society. But Jayce rarely gives her any pushback, and she looks genuinely shocked when he does (ex. after he talks to Ambessa in the bathhouse and Jayce decides direct confrontation is the next move). I think Jayce trusted that Mel was the best at what she did — which she is — but he failed to consider that he did not want to be the same as her. Like Viktor says, "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good." Mel could make him great, but she could not make him good. Jayce is not meant to be a leader and is poorly cast in that role. Mel could never be a mere supporter of the world, she belongs as a power player. They are perpendicular lines — intersecting but moving in different directions. 

(Side note: It's so funny to me that Mel calls Jayce the de-facto head of the council when that could not more obviously be her! And she knows it! She is the one who changes Hoskel's votes with a single glance. She is the one who decides to add Jayce to the council and convinces everyone else. Jayce proposes kicking Heimerdinger out, but I do not think all of the council would have agreed if Mel was not the first to voice her support. Probably none of them would have. If the council actually has a leader after Heimerdinger (who's been here 200 years), it IS Mel. But Jayce makes a useful figurehead for Mel to work more subtly.) 

Jayce and Mel like each other well enough. At least, they like the versions of each other that they see. But Mel is so used to wearing a mask that she doesn’t even realize that’s what he’s seeing. She is so used to other people’s masks that she can’t see Jayce’s heart even as it’s plain on his sleeve. And being a councilor brings out the absolute worst in Jayce. If anything he needs to become a councilor so that he can realize the extent of his own prejudice and change. But it is not who he wants to be, nor who he should be. I think that Jayce, after everything he sees and does and goes through, could be happy living in a cabin by a stream with his love and 4 kids. Mel could never be satisfied by that kind of life.

While we're here, let's talk about her and Viktor. (Yes I am a jayvik shipper but this is about Mel.) Even with no context, the two are practically designed to contrast each other. Mel is from Noxus, Viktor is from Zaun (interestingly, both are cultures with a lot of violence, but Noxus is a conqueror, Zaun the oppressed). Mel is rich, Viktor is poor. Mel is a politician, Viktor is an inventor. Mel is a black woman, Viktor is a white man. Mel is able bodied, Viktor is disabled. Mel is born with magic, Viktor is an inventor of artificial magic. They're both outsiders to Piltover, but Mel is accepted and Viktor is not. They stand in direct contrast to each other through the show and represent two extremes Jayce must choose between. Mel is power and politics; Viktor is science and idealism. Both are valid. Both are interesting. But only one aligns with Jayce.

Two similarities between them that aren’t brought up often (if at all): They both have childhood flashbacks where an adult parent figure brutally harms an innocent they identify with in front of them (Singed to Rio, and Ambessa to Mion). They both see their bodies as things that betray them — Viktor through his disability and later corruption by the Hexcore, Mel by the magic blood that runs through her veins. These are both complex, emotional, and deeply interesting characters and I get why Jayce wants them both. This is the bisexual representation we need. 

Let’s take this scene as a microcosm of their season 1 relationship. Viktor is putting a lot on the line. He is helping Jayce break into Heimerdinger’s lab to illegally use equipment that has been confiscated from him after a building blew up. Viktor stands to lose everything if helping Jayce does not work out; his position as Heimerdinger’s assistant, the scraps of power he’s managed to claw out of Piltover. He stands to gain a lot if it works out, granted. He says that he doesn’t want to be an assistant forever. But he believes Jayce is worth the risk. He understands hextech, understands the science and magic behind it. Jayce and Viktor share a vision. 

Mel stands to lose nothing. Even visually, Jayce and Viktor are in this together. Mel stands alone. She is in this as long as she stands to benefit. Jayce and Viktor are in the sky together; Mel is firmly planted on the ground. 

Okay, typing it out like that seems harsh, but it’s only to contrast the characters and their relationship with Jayce. Mel doesn’t NEED to do anything for Jayce at this point. She does not know him! He is just some guy! She also does not have the same understanding of hextech that Viktor does; that is not her area of expertise. She is very good at people and politics; he is very good at science and invention. She’s kind of just hoping Jayce pulls through. But it shows how Viktor and Jayce immediately have a deep and connected relationship, while Mel and Jayce’s early relationship is focused on being mutually beneficial. 

However, even after the timeskip, Mel wants the golden boy; she and Elora say as much. But that person isn’t real. And Jayce is not the man on the poster. They seem to barely know each other better than they did in episode 3. 

I don’t think that Jayce and Mel not matching is some huge moral failing on either of them, by the way. Mel does not need to be better for Jayce. Jayce does not have to change for her. Jayce and Mel’s relationship is one of misunderstanding. They just don’t quite fit, and that makes both them and the world more interesting. 

I also can't get behind mel/jay/vik as a ship. Mel and Viktor knew each other for 6-7 years and they still don’t like each other. I think Viktor just on principle would hate any politician, never mind one actively perpetuating the oppression of his people. I get it because I love them both too, but sometimes the characters we like don't like each other! They're not even toxic in a fun way they just don't vibe with each other 😭 I'm chill with the mel/jay/vik enjoyers, but I could never be one myself. (someone said they ship Jayce with Mel and Viktor in the way of divorced parents splitting custody; I can support that) 

What I think could have been done better:

This is to say that Mel's season 2 arc should have focused on her political development, leaving magic for a season 3 (that still had political elements). (Also in my ideal season 2 ending Piltover just gets fucking BRUTALIZED, forcing them down to the level of the Zaunites, struggling for survival instead of victory. But they were not gonna write that, lol) I think a season 2 ending where Mel is kidnapped by the Black Rose BECAUSE she's going too far off-course from where they want her would be good.

Talking about season 2 is ... difficult. Because I do like it. I enjoy watching, the writers and voice actors and artists are all performing beautifully. But I think the show they wanted NEEDED a third season, and only having 2 meant they had to severely compress everyone’s character development. It’s like someone listed all the plot points they wanted, then crossed out everything they could to make it fit. It broadly makes sense, but you can tell a lot is missing. Mel, Jayce, Ekko, and Viktor are all yanked off-screen for long periods of time. A lot is implied, and a lot isn't as deep as you want it to be. Season 1 is tightly written, season 2 is loose. It comes together as well as it can while keeping the original endpoint for the characters rather than changing them to fit in a single season.

But I am very happy that Mel’s story is not over. 

Conclusion:

Anyway, I want Mel to have a lesbian enemies to lovers story arc in the Noxus show. I want her to meet a power player character who can keep up with her. Similarly to how I see Jayce and Viktor as the same character type (inventors) who are different in every other way and THAT'S why they work, I want her to meet someone who is her equal and peer but still so different from her. I want that mutual fascination, that clash and collide, and for her to fall head over heels. I want her and this new character to manipulate each other, hurt each other, and understand each other like no one else can (I like when gay people are toxic in a cool and interesting way). That is my wishlist.

So when I make funny ha ha posts about Mel, I am NOT doing that as someone who wants her out of the way of jayvik, nor as someone who thinks she did nothing wrong!!!! I am a Mel understander and I will die one!!!

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[bellamysgriffin]

ULTIMATE SHIPS CHALLENGE - Non-Endgame Ships [4/5] ↳ I'd like to destroy this one, too. Why? Through it, I give you to another. (insp)

[aphelionatseven]

how foolish to believe there would be no consequences for chasing the stallion too far.

an extension of ferrari's satisfaction test

[nullmaidens]

WIP: drink your fill

18+ || ezekyle abaddon x reader || step-mother/son fauxcest. pre-heresy, set-up to adultery, guilty masturbation (kinda), pregnancy as body horror.

THIS IS A WIP!! the final product will have explicit content and abaddon with lactophilia. please bear this in mind!!

he’s a boob guy who wants to be his mother’s favourite just as much as he wants to be his father’s, and i can see him getting rather jealous of a new arrival that takes up too much of her time for his liking.

Hell exists, and the Imperial Truth should be damned to it. Hell exists, and Ezekyle knows, because he’s been enduring it for months.

It comes to the Vengeful Spirit after a long gestation, growing in a dark, dank place, left alone too long to get rid of. It buries its way inside, making itself a home out of nothing, siphoning their hard-won supplies without permission and, to add insult to injury, without reproach. They’d reinforced the ship against it — a new door here, an insulated wall there, increasingly strict safety protocols, and locks. More locks than he had ever seen, one on every compartment, every cupboard, even in the most distant recesses of the menial decks, as if the Warmaster was expecting a break-in.

What he was really readying them for, however, was the breakout.

The Legion Mother had screamed for hours, and he thought could hear it clearly despite your being in the infirmary and himself being locked away in the training cages. It was haunting, and Ezekyle wanted nothing to do with it. He could almost feel the heavy thuds of the Warmaster’s footsteps pacing up and down the corridor outside the room you’d been placed in, nearly hear Tarik’s lighthearted voice try to comfort him, or Luc’s stern assertions try to ease his mind. She’ll be fine, he’d say, she is strong. It’s why you chose her, and it’s why we love her.

The cages were empty when he arrived, everyone else preoccupied, duties cut short and shifts left unfinished when the news had broken that you had finally gone under the knife. His knuckles are bloody from being beaten against battle servitors, six— no, seven— of them in pieces at his feet. Huge, hulking, once-human things torn apart, split at the seams, their bodies broken almost beyond repair, and while he knew the Martians would fix them, they’d never quite operate the same. That thought stung. Your body, too, had changed, under occupation. You became gaunt, stretched out, both thin and bulging, the mortal human body utterly weak and incapable of handling the burden of such a parasite.

You’d wasted away in front of them and they had done nothing. The nausea that left you starving almost to the point of emaciation was blamed on warp sickness, initially, but the Luna Wolves weren’t stupid enough to be so easily deceived. The preternatural beauty and fullness that came in the weeks that followed was merely a reflection in him of the Warmaster’s love for you, one that disguised the way your skin warped around the growth. To his great shame, Ezekyle took himself in hand for the first time in decades when you looked like that. You even smelled different, lingering in the air around him for hours after you’d retired to his father’s chambers, the sickly sweet scent of you clinging to him even beneath a blisteringly hot shower. The water scalded his back as he’d stood hunched over, braced against the tiled wall in front of him, and he cursed when he thought of how much more lustrous your hair had become, and how your clothes had started to stretch across your belly, and how the already perfect swell of your chest was—

He made himself spend another fifteen minutes scrubbing his guilt from where it dripped down the grouting.

When the more slender parts of your body grew gaunt again, when you were tired, and slow, and it seemed that he alone could see it in your eyes that you were putting on a brave face for them, Ezekyle had gone to your bedside and asked you why you had wasted so much time in waiting to take it out.

“I don’t know,” was your answer, and you had squeezed his hand. He saw red just thinking about the way the oximeter dug into your finger, the plastic cold against his skin, and the dullness in your eyes, once so full of life. He punched the servitor in front of him hard, its inner and outer machinations stuttering at the impact before whirring back to life. “It will happen when it happens. The chirurgeons and the apothecaries know what they are doing.” You’d brought his hand up to your lips, then. They were cracked and dry, devoid of their usual softness, but they had still been so gentle against his knuckle when you tried to comfort him.

When an illness takes root, it ought to be cured. When a tumour grows, removed. The surgery should fix you. It would make you better, and happier, and things would be just as they were before. Now again, harder, that same fist pummelled into its gut until he felt bone break, lubricants spilling onto the mat, each strike a wish that the ache would dull and fade into the oblivion from whence it came. This was a momentous occasion, one he’d regret missing, but the thought of smelling the stench of your blood from the other side of a closed door was nauseating. He should be there, with his brothers. With his father who he knows needs him now possibly more than ever, to share in his strife and his delight.

And yet, after a painstakingly long half-cycle spent drenched in sweat, Ezekyle punches straight through the servitor’s skull and bellows in frustration when roars of joy fill every deck of the ship. Lady Lupercal is alive. The Warmaster has another son.

“Must he parade it around?” he asked under his breath as the Mournival stood by, watching from a stage as the Primarch showed the swaddled cloth in his arms to each company, one at a time. It was a miracle it hadn’t started that insufferable wailing again at the sound of ceramite sabatons thumping against plasteel flooring, each and every Luna Wolf in his immaculately cleaned armour, and only Horus going without. He was determined to maintain skin to skin contact with the thing they’d torn from the Legion Mother, as if that would make all the difference, and have it recognise him as its father all the quicker. Ezekyle bristled at the thought, though it wasn’t a new one. In the days since the arrival, the Warmaster had doted on it, and something dark and strange and sad had coiled up in his heart whenever he saw the way he held it close to his chest.

The Legion Mother had barely been able to walk when the men were called up to the debarkation deck, and he’d played the role of the dutiful, anxious son in the absence of any other volunteers. You clung to his arm, shivering from the effort of standing, but you smiled anyway. It was pained, and it was like only he could tell. “He is your father’s pride,” you whispered back, your eyes fixed not on your husband, but on the bundle in his care. “He thinks it’ll be good for all of you to know him, and I agree. He’s just another brother to care for, Ezekyle. Smaller, perhaps, than what you’re used to,” a weak laugh rattled through you, and he could almost feel the way your fingers tightened around the thick plate of his gauntlet, “but a brother all the same.”

thank u for making it this far <3 hopefully i ACTUALLY FINISH THIS

divider by @strangergraphics !!

[whowhatwhenwhereandwhynot]

Cressida marries Lord Debling. It’s not as miserable as she feared and she gets pregnant quickly, much to both of their reliefs. And she gives birth to healthy twins. She doesn’t mind not being in London as often, though she misses the fashion. And she’s, shocking to even herself, taken an interest in the natural world after being left in a house where most of the reading revolves around it.

And then one year, Debling then leaves on another of his trips and his letters become more and more infrequent and then stop. And Cressida gets lonely but an old friend of hers continues to write. She doesn’t understand her kids but she loves them, in the same way her parents loved her.

And after Debling is declared dead and her son becomes a Lord, a that old friend stops by for a visit. To help her, in her grief.

And suddenly Eloise Bridgerton is back in her life.

[amaltheas-garden]

people still shocked that in the year of our lord 2024 some of us don't want to see Dany get her 'happy ending' by becoming the white savior who was promised

[pretend-theres-a-name-here]

I love when Steddie future fics have the Pinterest White Woman and her husband who can operate a power saw and is devoted to making all of her saved decorations dynamic

like yesss Steve saw a new book shelf that would look really good in the family room but it’s expensive so he resigns to not have it, meanwhile Eddie has banned him from the garage for reasons unknown until he’s taking off a blindfold and the shelf of his dreams is sitting where the car used to be

Steve sees that Amy from across the street just made a post about her homemade Christmas wreaths and they’re really good but he’s determined to one up her so he drags Eddie to Micheal’s and they load up on fake plants and berries, string and even some little Christmas lights. He spends the rest of the day making sure his wreaths are absolutely perfect and hanging them outside before Amy’s morning jog so she knows.

He wants to redo the kitchen and doesn’t trust any remodeling teams to get his vision so for a month he’s tearing apart his kitchen, sending Eddie out to paint the cabinets while he adds tile to the walls under them. Who is Eddie to tell him to just hire somebody when he’s finally happy with it, standing back to admire his work

He hangs those cheesy signs like “home is temporary, family is forever” in the family room, he has a “live laugh love this zoo” welcome mat. Eddie can’t stand them, he doesn’t say anything, they make Steve happy, they buy three more.

Idk there’s just something about it that feels so them you know, tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this, tell me I’m not losing my mind