#on-line quotation form

[gghostwriter]

If You Love Me Right

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: Back at it again with something Short n' Sweet. Unsure if this will be the last of this album inspired fics but so far the album is still on repeat. I think out of all the fluff I've written, this is the one where I could just feel how much of a green flag Spencer would be as a partner, if only he wasn't fictional. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“Have you thought about it?” Emily asked, wine glass on hand as she slid into the seat next to you.

The sun was just starting to set, covering the lush backyard in multitude of pink & orange hues. It was a Sunday and Rossi had invited the team and their extended families for an early Italian dinner feast. When Spencer inquired about your availability, it warmed your heart to hear who you are to him.

“Are you sure you want me there, Spence?” your voice coming out soft and muffled as you burrowed yourself further into the warmth of his slender neck. His invitation was a big step in further solidifying the relationship and having been in questionable situation-ships, you had to be sure where you stood.

He pulled back, doe eyes inquisitively staring into yours. His gaze had this way of making you feel known and at home. It was as if his soul has recognized yours from eons ago and needed no further introduction.

“Of course,” his calloused fingers softly pushing stray locks behind your ears. “You’re my person now and it feels right to have you there with me.”

Emily cleared her throat binging you back to the present. “Well?”

“Thought about what?”

She nodded her head in Spencer’s direction. “Having genius babies with our boy genius?”

You softly smiled, watching your boyfriend of one year perform magic tricks for Henry and Michael. It wasn’t like it never crossed your mind. If you were being honest, by the sixth date and the first time he stayed over for the night, the idea of growing old and starting a family with Spencer by your side had started to solidify. 

“Maybe,” you drawled out. A half truth that the seasoned profiler caught on right away.

“And has this—” she lifted her hands to form quotation marks in the air. “‘maybe’ been discussed with the potential baby daddy?” 

You brought the wine glass up to your lips, the outer corner of your lips tugging upwards your face as you took a sip. Dating a man of Spencer’s caliber had given you the comfort and stability to discuss any little insecurity, adoration, and realization without the unease of thinking he’d judge you for it. Gone were those nights of second guessing and reading too much in between the lines and in its place were honest discussions between two consenting adults. 

It was a real breath of fresh air.

“Do you think we should have a baby?” you casually asked, laying on his lap as he was propped up against the headboard with a book on hand. “I mean, not this second but—yeah, do you?”

There was a rustle of pages before a soft thud. “Sweetheart, don’t take this the wrong way but are you by any chance ovulating?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He smiled, looking down at your slowly reddening cheeks. I—uh, have actually been keeping track—” he bit his lip before rushing out to explain himself. “—not to use the information for nefarious reasons but my brain just started to notice the patterns and it feels like an invasion of your privacy and—are you angry?”

“Oh Spence, no. Not at all,” your hand twining with his to stop its nervous movements. “It might be weird but I know you meant well. Now, will you tell me some facts about why you thought I was ovulating?”

“Well, studies had shown that women feel more flirty, sociable, and more physically attractive right before and during ovulation. Some studies also support the idea of increased libido which makes sense since that is the peak window for propagation of the human species.”

You giggled, always welcoming his rambles even if it had to do with your own reproductive system. “Right, but you know what else got me thinking about it?”

A slight scrunch in between his eyebrows appeared as his mind no doubt rewound the day for any trigger. His eyes brightening when it clicked. “Was it the picture of me holding Henry and Michael?”

“Definitely,” you breathed out, starting to feel warm just thinking about how secure his hold was to the newborn babies and that smile on his face that reached his molten hazel eyes and radiated from his whole face.

He pressed feather-like kisses all over cheeks and forehead. “There’s actually also a study on why that affected you so much. It all comes down to women seeing their partners acting as providers—” he cut himself off to land a kiss on your lips. “—I’m not saying no—I’d actually really like that but maybe we can revisit the idea again in two weeks? I want to make sure this is something you really want and not something your biology has dictated on you.”

“Okay, that sounds fair. I love you, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

Spencer’s laughter floating through the air brought you out of your reverie. A slight shiver passed through you—either from the wind or the imagery of him carrying Michael and holding hands with Henry on the other as they slowly made their way back to their mother.

You turned to face Emily, no doubt that the blush on your cheeks giving you away. “Maybe.”

“Huh,” she tilted her head slightly to the left—a subtle tick you’ve grown to read into.

“What?”

Shaking her head, she leaned in to clink her glass with yours and a teasing smile forming on her face. “Nothing. Well—you’re welcome, by the way. And as a thank you, what do you think about naming the maybe baby after me?” 

You laughed. The trio had taken full credit for bringing the couple together—something that they had always brought up like it was their greatest contribution to earth.

A layer of warmth was added to your shoulders and a faint scent of books and wood wafted to your nose. Tilting your head backwards, it was Spencer sans his black coat that was now adorning your body. His garment effectively marking you as an extension of him, as if the necklace around your neck with his initials 'SR' wasn't enough already. A priceless jewelry that had a partner with your own initials that found its home around his neck. “Hi love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” leaning down to give your lips a kiss. “You looked cold.” 

You were both wrapped up in your own little bubble to notice Emily’s eyebrows arching towards her hairline. “It won’t be long now, I guess. So how many?” 

“One would be cute—” your eyes never lingering on his face as if you were tracing the all his angles and memorizing all the stubbles that had started to grow on his jaw line. 

Spencer without further explanation continued on. “—two would be better.” 

“You know, you both have to stop finishing each other’s sentences, it’s getting creepy,” Emily quipped.

You both laughed, turning to face her, and although your gazes were no longer meeting, the gentle caress of his thumb on the back of your hand was enough to communicate everything and anything in between.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[dollarbils]

such a fuckboy | b.eilish

fwb!billie x fem!reader

context. billie approaches you at an event, but you’re soon reminded that she has others waiting in line for her attention.

warnings. friends with benefits, smut, spit, oral, fingering, teasing.

request/request/request masterlist

her tattooed hand crept behind your back and rested firmly around your hips when she greeted you amidst the crowd.

“hey baby, what’s the frown for?” she commented on your expression, genuine concern spread across her features.

“it’s nothing, i just feel a little out of place here.” you replied, scanning the room once again to be met with unknown faces. you were at some gathering a mutual friend had invited you to, and knowing billie would be there, urged you to go.

“i didn’t expect to see you here, i was surprised. a pleasant surprise of course.” her lips pulled up to one side as she slyly delivered the compliment, a smile forming on your face when she did.

“i didn’t think i was gonna come, but a friend convinced me to. it’s been quite the turnout.” the last was an effort of sarcasm and it made billie chuckle, subconsciously pulling you closer.

“well you look so fucking good babe. it would be a shame to let that go to waste.” her eyes reflected the glistening lights that decorated the venue, as her bottom lip disappeared under her teeth.

“oh yeah? i wonder what your suggestion to fix that would be?” she smiled and was on the verge of finding a witty response before your conversation was interrupted.

“billieee, what’s taking so long? you said you’d be back in a minute.” a blonde emerged from somewhere behind you, her voice whiny and child-like for her age.

“yeah, fuck that’s my bad.” her arm left your body as she let herself get pulled away by one of her other bitches, reminding you of your position.

“i’ll find you. go mingle!” her last desperate words before she was out of your audible range, disappearing with the pretty blonde.

you stood awkwardly for a second, not completely sure what to do with yourself. deciding a drink in your hand would settle your nerves, you headed towards the bar.

“not surprised?” a girl approached you, having heard the last few words of your conversation.

“sorry?” your eyebrows knotted in confusion.

“billie. she’s always wrapped up in someone, you can’t seem to get five minutes alone with that girl. trust me, i know.” she scoffed chewing on the olive from her martini.

“wait, you mean, you? and billie?” you questioned as you were making the connection.

“me and plenty others. she’s ‘been around’ to say the least.” you chuckled when she signalled air quotations with her hands.

“she’s a fuckboy. i’m well aware.” she smirked at the comment.

“well it’s nice to meet another one of billie’s bitches, so to say.” she laughed at her own words.

“yeah, pretty humbling title don’t you think?”

“mm, she picks and chooses.” she shrugged her shoulders as if you were supposed to understand.

“what do you mean?” she paused for a second before speaking, as if not sure of what to reveal.

“well if she’s strung you on for this long it must mean she likes you. most of us get two nights at most before she’s bored.” a twinge of guilt settled in your stomach when she spoke so negatively of billie, who was your friend after all.

“no i mean we’re friends. i’ve know her for years.” you felt like you were bragging somehow, proving your place in billies life, proving to be superior to any other girls concerned.

“damn, i met her last night. im pretty sure she was drunk when she invited me here.” she held back a scoff, continuing the passive aggressive insults. she had been drunk last night, she’d called you.

“that doesn’t sound like her.” you always seemed to find yourself defending her, despite everything you knew. this conversation really hadn’t revealed anything new.

“looks like she’s come crawling back.” she nodded her head towards the girl approaching from behind. and you turned your face to be met with hers.

“back so soon?” you teased and she rolled her eyes. she scanned the girl you were previously talking to, an ounce of recognition clearly present.

“dead weight as usual, who’s this?” billie’s question clearly seemed to upset the girl as her face contorted in anger, but it was obvious she wasn’t surprised.

“honestly, fuck you billie.” she scoffed and walked away, mumbling words of ‘good luck’.

“well that was slightly dramatic.” billie still seemed confused and hadn’t caught on to your comment.

“what was that about?” she turned to place herself in front of you, gently caressing your arms.

“billie. do you seriously not remember?” she smiled awkwardly, catching onto the fact she should know who the girl was.

“uhh, yeah?” she dragged out her words in hesitation.

“you fucked her last night.” her eyes went somewhat wide as she turned to examine the girl.

“no recollection whatsoever of that. to be fair though, i wasn’t really in my right mind, what did she expect.” her nonchalant facade took over as she shrugged her shoulders.

“you invited her here.” her mouth opened in momentary surprise.

“shit, yeah that’s my bad.” she almost chuckled and you couldn’t help shaking your head in disbelief.

“god you’re such a fuckboy.”

“excuse me! i am not.” she huffed, clearly offended.

“oh please.” you rolled your eyes which seemed to annoy her further, her grip on your arms more prominent.

“yeah? say it again.” her tone was demanding but nowhere near the extent of her dominance. she made it almost too easy to counter.

“you’re such a fuckboy, billie.” she narrowed her eyes. “what? you don’t wanna hear it? it’s the fucking truth.” she smiled, clearly recovering from her moment of shock.

“mm,” she paused for a second. “i’ll accept it if you accept your truth.” your eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“tell me.” she was grinning when you urged her to speak.

“you’re just one of my whores, and i know you love it.” she pushed you further against the table behind you, raising her eyebrows to challenge your response.

“maybe, but you can’t deny i’m your favorite.” she smirked, biting the inside of her lip.

“what makes you so sure of yourself, baby?” she was playing with you now, submitting to the tension between you.

“because you never forget your nights with me.” she chuckled, however, still aware of your surroundings. otherwise, she’d have you right there.

“let me take you home.” her nose rubbed against yours tenderly as she placed a kiss on the side of your lips, misdirecting you completely.

“i don’t really want to go home.” you quipped, her eyebrows raising again. her sweet demeanour soon vanished when she spoke again.

“fine by me.” she said simply before forcefully dragging you to go find a spare room. it didn’t take her long either before she found an office type looking room, pulling you inside and locking the door.

“really?” you scrunched your nose up at the room, observing the furniture.

“what? it has a couch. besides, your hardly in the position to complain.” she backed you up against the door as she narrowed her eyes, her black eyeliner doing nothing to make her look less intimidating.

“i guess i shouldn’t put it past you.” she chuckled as her hands traveled to your ass.

“you’re really testing me today, aren’t you sweetheart?” her hands slid under your jeans, threatening the fabric of your underwear as she gripped your bare ass, almost making you jump if you hadn’t been expecting it.

“it’s fun.” this time, your words were almost a whisper, her face so close to yours causing the lower volume.

“mm, it is.” she agreed before bringing her lips to yours, closing the space between you with a kiss. gentle but still firm, her hands doing the work to assert her dominance instead, as she continued palming your ass. her lips left your fairy quickly as she traveled down your neck, the halter top you were wearing giving her easy access.

“billie.” the satisfied mumble left your mouth when her teeth moved the fabric of your top off of your tit, so that her mouth could attach to your nipple. you felt them harden as she sucked and nipped at them, her hands moving to undo your jeans.

“well that was an easy way to shut you up.” her face moved back up to yours and she guided your hips towards the couch, pushing you down as she swiftly followed, climbing on top of you.

“just get on with it.” you rolled your eyes but she clearly didn’t appreciate that. she almost laughed when she closed her hand on your neck.

“i think i’ll take my time, but thanks for the suggestion, baby.” her hand moved to undo the straps of your top, biting her lip when she exposed your tits.

“open up.” her command came with a soft tap of her finger against your lips, one of her hands returning to rest on your neck.

“come on baby, don’t be a brat.” you narrowed your eyes as she brought her face down to yours. when you complied with her request, her spit soon coated the back of your throat, as she closed your jaw, urging you to swallow.

“good girl.” her lips moved towards your tits again, as she began to bite the skin around your nipples, bruising the area. her hands worked quickly to remove your jeans, and she broke away to pull your top off aswell.

“baby, please.” you huffed when her fingers traced your clit through your panties.

“so now you’re all sweet again huh?” she teased, in reality she couldn’t get enough of it. your small sighs of content when her lips wrapped around your nipples, or when her tongue slipped past your lips. she could drown in the sounds of your pleasure.

“billie.” you dragged it out in a whine.

“yes, babe?” her fingertips worked their way past your underwear and through your folds. your mind erased any words you were attempting to say when her lips kissed your jaw. the only sounds leaving your mouth being soft moans as she teased you with her fingers.

“come on, i know you have it in you.” she purred into your ear, the hair on your back raising with shivers travelling down your back.

“no?” her fingers left your pussy and came up to your mouth. she tapped your lip again, pushing them in as you opened your eyes to stare into hers as you sucked on them, making a show of it too.

“there she is.” billie smirked when you moaned against her fingers, her hips beginning to grind on yours. she was becoming more turned on the harder you sucked on her fingers.

“fuck.” she sighed, when they left your mouth with a pop, a trail of saliva following. she couldn’t help but move down your body, sliding your underwear off as she kissed your lower stomach, tracing your thighs with her hands. it didn’t take long for her to move her lips lower, laying her tongue flat against your clit before using her fingers to spread the lips of your pussy. her mouth circled around your entrance, as her nose prodded your clit.

“mm, keep doing that.” she mumbled when your nails dug into her scalp, pulling at her hair while she ate you out. her fingers slid through your pussy, teasing your walls as she worked with her mouth.

“fuck, bils. more p-please.” your words, a mere stutter when she dipped her fingers past your entrance, her lips returning to your clit. your stomach tightened when she curled her fingers, slowly, dragging out your pleasure. her soft groans vibrated through your core as she brought you closer and closer to your release. you clenched around her fingers as she hummed in approval.

“i’m so close bils, c-can i-?” your words were interrupted when she thrusted another finger deeper into your heat, her thumb resting at the base of your entrance, just below her chin.

“mhm, go on baby.” she quickened her movements, as you released on her fingers, your thighs squeezing her head before she used her free hand to push your hips down. she pulled them out and lapped up your arousal, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“oh my god billie.” you sighed, out of breath, when you’d come back to your senses.

“yeah?” she grinned as she came back up to kiss you, holding your chin firmly to make sure you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“bet you’re glad i fuck those girls, hm?” she joked, laughing when she saw your expression.

“billie! what a dick!” you hit her playfully but she just continued laughing.

“i’m joking.” she pecked your lips but you didn’t return the gesture.

“what? come on, don’t be upset.” her expression softened when she realised you were serious, regretting the comment despite it’s humour.

“i’m not upset, it’s just-” you trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“hm? you’re jealous?” she smirked resting her body against yours as she sat on your lap.

“no!” you were quick to deny it, a reflex almost. but when she gave you time to think with her silence, you rephrased your response. “well, maybe.” she took your face in the palms of her hands gently.

“don’t i have the right to be? if i were just a good fuck why would you string me along for this long?” her thumbs rubbed your cheeks.

“i’m not trying to string you along, love.” her words were sincere but lacked an answer to your question.

“then what is this?” you gestured between the two of you, asking the million dollar question.

“i don’t know, i guess i just didn’t think you’d want more than just… this.” she repeated your gesture to clarify her words.

“are you joking?” you scoffed, disbelief spread across your features.

“what? it’s kinda awkward to tell one of your closest friends your into her.” she argued in defence.

“a friend you fuck.” you added.

“look, i’m sorry baby. i don’t know what you want from me.” her eyebrows were furrowed and her words tender.

“what do you want?” you asked. curiously, but also out of genuine confusion.

“i just-” she took a second to think. “i just want to see you, be with you. kiss you and… fuck you.” she smiled at the last part, needing to lighten up the conversation. and you laughed at her hesitance to admit it.

“that’s what i want. but i want you to want that with just me. no one else. is that really too much to ask from you?” her smile didn’t falter.

“no, of course not. i want that too.” she kissed you, holing your face, keeping it close to hers. and she didn’t let go.

[with-my-murder-flute]

the hunt for enneameter: new and completely unprecedented levels of alectopause brainrot

Elseweb I was trying to explain to someone why I felt that Ortus had a strong formative influence on Gideon and Harrow. And the reason is: They don't speak like normal humans. They speak like people very accustomed to recitation, especially reciting metered poetry. (My brothers and I grew up in a youth group that did a lot of memorizing and reciting old-ass fancy talk, and oh boy is there a difference between the two)

And the person said they guessed they could see it with Harrow but they didn't get it with Gideon. So to demonstrate, I pulled out Gideon's "the only job" speech from early in GtN. Which is where my troubles started.

As Harrow promptly tells her, it's structured in a set of three unnecessarily long and punchy descriptions. That's a remarkable level of rhetorical flourish and suspicious all on its own.

And then I started trying to explain how I thought it scanned in iambic pentameter, and some of it is long strings of iambs, but not all. Then I remembered that I hate doing this crap because what feel like very natural stress patterns to me are not how people from other accents or countries would say it. And anyway, I gave up on explaining the scansion, and just tried to break it into what seemed like natural lines to demonstrate the similarity to something like Shakespeare. I included syllable counts as I saw them in parentheses at the end of the line. Not all the lines were iambic pentameter, but 10 absolutely was the mean and mode number of syllables per line.

And then I noticed that with my pronunciation ('kicked' and 'flipped' as one syllable), Gideon's little speech was 96 syllables long. Not quite the 99 you'd think is appropriate for the Ninth.

...And that recognition of the structure wound up most of the way to spring, needing just one tiny bit more to fully click, led me to remember that sometimes Shakespeare breaks up his speeches between characters, and they make the larger structure together. Like, Romeo shows up in the balcony scene declaring the first part of a sonnet about Juliet, and then she shows up and Uno reverses it on him with the last octave.

So I looked at Harrow's next line.

It was 3 syllables long and completely punctures Gideon's rising bubble of hot air.

I'M GOING TO COMPLETELY LOSE MY SHIT HERE TAMSYN--

G: Nonagesimus, the only job (9) I’d do for you would be if you wanted (10) someone to hold the sword as you fell on it. (11)

the only job I’d do for you would be (10) If you wanted your ass kicked so hard, (9) the Locked Tomb opened, and a parade came out (11) to sing, ‘Lo! A destructed ass.’ (8)

The only job I’d do would be if you (10) wanted me to spot you while you backflipped (10) off the top tier into Drearburh.(8)

H: That's three jobs. (3)

People who are good at cryptography and poetry scansion please help. Before I go off to tear all my pillows apart with my bare hands while weeping, I'll leave you with one last thing:

those who are fit but to hold their blade in the scabbard never to draw it forth for the battle

28 syllables. Harrow says it doesn't scan; Ortus refutes this and says it's "enneameter" (after the Greek word for "eight") and therefore does. Casual reminder that the Ninth is positively shitty with people keeping secrets from each other using complicated codes and ciphers. How does enneameter work?

(Final tidbit if you need extra incentive: He also says enneameter is "the traditional form". This may be a quotation from his own work, or it could be from some other mouldering old book in the Ninth's library. Just how old?)

[transthedasfest]

This is an event to celebrate trans characters and creators in the Dragon Age fandom!

It’s bleak right now for many of us, both in terms of politics and weather, so this is an attempt to spark some trans joy and uplift each other with a low-key but hopefully fun little fest that culminates on Trans Day of Visibility.

Schedule: Prompt submission: Feb 6-15 Prompt claiming: Feb 16-22 Posting: March 23-March 30 Works revealed: March 31 (aka Trans Day of Visibility!)

More info under ‘keep reading.’

@dragonagefanevents

How does this event work?

People submit prompts related to a certain theme and/or claim which prompt they’d like to write about or draw. At the end, all the writing and art is revealed on AO3.

What’s the theme?

Trans characters in Dragon Age — anything about them.

What is the schedule?

Prompt submission: Feb 6-15 Sign-up/prompt claiming: Feb 16-22 Posting: March 23-March 30 Works revealed: March 31

Do nonbinary/genderqueer characters count as trans?

Of course! That’s who the white stripe on the trans flag is for, y’know. This event is for all non-cis characters and creators.

I’m cis. Can I participate?

Sure, as long as you’re respectful and have done your research.

How do I participate?

- Make sure you have an AO3 account, because that is where works will be posted.

- Submit prompts via this form.

- There will be another form posted on Feb 16 to claim a prompt. Prompts are claimed on a first-come, first-serve basis. You will receive an email confirming which prompt you have claimed.

- You create something based on your prompt.

- Post your work to AO3, and make sure that you post it to the Trans Thedas Fest collection by entering “trans_thedas_fest” (without quotation marks) in the Post to Collections/Challenges box.

- Works will be revealed on March 31.

What do I need to write for a prompt?

You can be as vague as “something about [character name],” or as elaborate as you like. But try to be detailed enough to give writers/artists something to work with.

What characters can I write/draw/write prompts about?

Any of them, as long as the focus of the work is on a trans character—one of the canonically trans characters (such as Krem, Taash, Maevaris, etc), a trans OC, or a canon character that you headcanon as trans.

What are the requirements for what I create?

Fic: at least 500 words (no maximum word count)

Art: clean line art

Use of generative AI is not allowed.

Fanfic should be standalone (not part of a series).

Make sure it’s rated and tagged appropriately.

Please wait to post your pieces on social media until after they have been revealed on AO3.

Who are you?

I’m JJ (they/them). My main blog is @lordlaidir and my AO3 is undeadpirate.

I have other questions! How do I get in touch?

You can send a message on tumblr, send an ask, or send an email to transthedasfest@protonmail.com.

[whowrotethenote]

ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: Brielle's life was the epitome of rags to riches. She had it all. Fame, fortune, and an older wealthy husband who kissed the ground she walked on. That is until haunting thoughts of her future where he became the only superstar in their marriage, forces her to fall into a downward spiral before her time.

Pairing: Roman Reigns (Joe) x Black Fem OC (Brielle)

Warnings: Age gap // Smut // Angst // Arguing // Addiction & alcohol abuse // Profanity

Word Count: 8.9k (once again, so sorry lol)

Inspo: Flashing Lights by Kanye West

A/N: I actually got the inspiration for this from another piece i’m working on, only it’s not fan fiction. I changed some things around. Same premise: young supermodel married to an older, wealthy and prominent man. If I ever decided to publish the original work, it will most likely be professionally (novel) not on social media. Anyway, this is a test run lol let me know what y’all think. Tell me what you like/don’t like. This is wayyy smuttier than the last jawn lol. Happy reading bitches!

Also, my taglist form is up. I'll add more options of posts to be tagged in as my blog grows.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“You want a refill, love?” The young, blonde bartender offered Brielle a weak smile that she returned. 

“Fuck it, why not?” She pushed the now empty martini glass aside watching her work. It wasn’t long ago that Brielle was the hustler on the other side of the bar. Every bartender had a sixth sense. One that told them who needed a drink versus who just wanted one. And Brielle was in desperate need of a drink. 

She turned slightly away from the bar top to scan the sea of people in the upscale ballroom before her, looking for one face in particular. Normally he wouldn’t be hard to spot. He stood six foot three, and was two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle. Only, the room was full of men with the same build in suits.

She tapped her expensive Russian manicure on the glass surface, squinting. She found him surrounded by a few of his colleagues and his boss, indulging in what looked like deep conversation. She fought the urge to roll her eyes knowing it couldn't have been that deep. Most likely the usual mindless chatter men share. Sports, pussy, wrestling, cars, politics and more pussy.

Brielle couldn't help but to stare. He was Dapper Dan, in an all black Tom Ford suit, hand-picked by Brielle herself. On his left wrist sat a two-toned AP. No diamonds. He had never been the flashy type. He didn't need to be. His aura spoke for itself, always giving away the fact that he was worth a billion before he ever even opened his mouth. Clean cut with a thick dark beard, lined to perfection. His shiny locks pulled back in his signature sleek bun. 

He must've felt her. His eyes locked in on her before she even noticed he was staring back. He flashed that billion dollar smile from across the room and Brielle almost forgot that she wanted to be anywhere else but where she currently stood. 

Just when it looked like he would make his way over, two more of his colleagues joined the group, reeling him back in. Oh, fuck me, she thought.

“Babe, while you're at it, how about a shot of Vodka?" Brielle asked with her head now in her hands.

The bartender chuckled at the only miserable seeming person in the ballroom. "Particular brand?”

"Whatever has the highest percentage.”

It was the week before a paper-view event. Summer-slam? Royal Rumble? Wrestle-mania?—Shit she didn’t know. She couldn’t keep up with that shit anymore than he could keep up with the endless runway shows and fashion weeks all over the world. What she did know? It was all a pain in her ass. The whole ordeal. The weeks leading up, the actual event, and all the fallout from it. Black tie events, interviews about storylines she didn’t have a clue about, terms she barely understood and unfamiliar faces. Worst of all? Her man’s hands were too full to assist in carrying any of her weight. 

He was the one. The whole WWE universe orbited around him and the rest of the Bloodline. That was means for him to be involved in every little aspect of the company. Pulled him every which way, in every direction. The forefront of it all.

In his world, Brielle always found herself taking a step back. She was used to being center of attention, all eyes on her, and the camera’s object of affection. But this was different. Sports entertainment wasn’t her lane. The cameras and microphones weren’t for her here. Its like someone picked Barbie up and dropped her in an all men’s gym.

"Here you go, love." 

Brielle’s night was starting to go uphill at the sight before her. A colorful martini and a clear shot filled to the brim of the shot glass. God bless the bartender.

“Thank you so much. Do I even wanna know what this is?” She picked up the shot first.

“Probably not,” she shook her head, already onto the next patron flagging her down.

Like it was water, Brielle got it down in one gulp and chased it with the Apple martini. She should’ve asked for a water. The shot ignited her insides like a furnace, waking her up immediately. 

“Oh, come on girl. It can’t be that bad.” Her lips curved widely into a genuine smile at the familiar voice. “What you got going on over here?” Jey held the martini glass up to his nose and jerked his head back with a screwed face. “I can’t get with that vodka, now.”

“Good. It's for the grown ups anyway.” He pulled her slim body into a comforting hug. “Where’s Kecia?” She looked past him for his wife, getting her hopes up that maybe this night wouldn’t be so excruciating if she had a friend. 

“Lil’ man got sick. I’m dolo tonight.” She audibly exhaled and flagged the bartender down.

“Yeah, i’ma need another one of whatever that was.”

He rubbed her bare back that was exposed in the silk Roberto Cavalli gown, in an attempt to alleviate some tension. He’s bore witness already on multiple occasions, of what the night could become after Brielle’s frustrations have been amplified by too many drinks. 

“Where’s that big-headed husband of yours?” He searched.

She waved a hand. “He was somewhere talking to Hunter in a huddle. I think I saw Seth with them. I doubt they’re in the same spot still.”

“Stay put,” he instructed before walking off.

Two shots and two drinks later, Brielle had opened and closed every app downloaded to her phone. She made useless conversation with the young blonde that fed her drinks, getting interrupted every time someone new came up to ask for a drink. It seemed like she was second priority to everyone in her line of sight.

She looked over her slim shoulder to find Joe, with Paul by his side, and to no surprise a camera and microphone in their faces. He stood with his big hands locked in front of him, listening to each of their questions intently.

The ballroom hosting the night was exquisite. The pinnacle of wealth. A three-piece chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling. Spacious as can be with marble flooring. Cathedral-like interior, giving the room an ancient castle feel. White clothed table tops accompanied by groups of people, babysitting glasses of champagne, caught in conversation. Then there was Brielle. Secluded, getting drunk at the bar.

It’s not that Brielle was ungrateful or necessarily unhappy. What was happiness anyway? In a room full of prominent strangers, drink in hand, she thought about what happiness and living a fulfilling life meant to her before. Before all of this. Not just Joe and his world, but her new one too.

Before the flashing lights and glamour, it seemed so simple. She just wanted to survive. So happiness to her back then would’ve been the equivalent to just living, as opposed to surviving. And however that came, she was ready to snatch it by the balls and never let go. Didn’t matter if it was attached to a wealthy man, the lottery by some miracle, or just straight finesse.

Brielle had came a long way from sleeping on her sister’s couch and surviving off scraps of tips in a sports bar. She was scouted on a late night slinging drinks. An older caucasian man who was just there to watch the NFL game, ended up being one of the head photographers for French Vogue.

One look at her face, with exceptional bone structure, beauty mark planted naturally on her chin, soft doe eyes, and he was mesmerized. Inspired. He almost had to beg her to come to his studio and take a few pictures. It was New York. Any old pervert with a camera could come in a bar and lure a young beautiful woman to his “studio.” And although Brielle, starving for a change of pace in life and obviously struggling, with her long low ponytail loose from the chaotic night; that didn’t mean she had to be desperate or naïve. 

He slid his business card on the bar top. Still hustling and bustling to give the growing crowd their drinks, she didn’t even give it one look. “Just think about it, please!” He shouted with a thick accent over the wave of excitement after the Eagles made a touchdown. “My number is on the card!”

“Yeah, sure!” She shouted back uninterested. Almost a whole half hour after he left, she shook the alcohol-soiled card from off the bar top and when her eyes focused on the French Vogue logo, she nearly choked.

Damn right she called the next morning. Seven a.m. sharp. She had only clocked out three hours before and stole an hour of sleep.

He instructed her to come bare faced, in a white tank top, jeans, and her hair pulled back, just as it was the night before. She didn’t know he really meant just how it was the night before. When she arrived with a tight low ponytail, slicked back to perfection, he pulled it looser and staged a few fly aways.

He ordered her to move exactly how he wanted her.

“Chin up, please.”

“Raise your hand a little.”

“Turn slightly to the right.”

“Look away from the camera.”

She posed and posed, while he snapped away. It took hours. The whole morning had passed. He needed it to be perfectly imperfect. Although skilled in professional photography and supermodels being his area of expertise, Brielle was new territory for him. He had to find a way to sell the young distressed girl from the Harlem bar, with deer-like beauty, to the executives at Vogue.

They were looking for the next big thing. And while their eyes were on the next Bella Hadid or Kendall Jenner, he had something better in mind. Something more refreshing and relatable. When destiny placed him right on a path to spotting Brielle in that bar, he felt his whole life about to change forever. And it did. Right along with hers.

She wore stardom well. Fame fit her like it was custom made. The “It Girl.” Thats what they were calling her. Known for her doe eyes, the beauty mark, and her sharp east coast wit. She rose to the top of the food chain at what seemed like the speed of light. Everything had moved so fast. The flashing lights of cameras blinded her at every corner. A new city, a new country every other week. A complete one-eighty for a girl who prior to signing with her modeling agency, had never been outside of New York. 

She was partying with the A-listers and whoever was above them at the top of the social food chain. Gracing the cover of over three hundred magazines, both national and international. The most desired runway model of her peers. She was being pulled and stretched thin. She was zooming through life in the fast line, picking up nasty habits just to keep up. She was swimming in millions, so stopping or even slowing down wasn't an option.

The general public had their eyes glued to her. She picked up the attention of CEOs, NBA players, actors, and anyone else who mattered. Brielle had always been the kind of girl to live her life on the go. Never limiting herself to one man because she saw herself as too much woman for just one anyhow. She dated and fucked them all. Spent their money well and had them hanging off the edge of their seat for more. None of them stuck. None of them were special or so different from the one before. That was until she crossed paths with WWE Superstar, Roman Reigns, or as she would come to know him as, Joseph Anoa’i.

One erotic night spent with him after an ESPY Awards afterparty, and it couldn’t have been more clear to her that he had to be hers. She’d keep this one for herself. He was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Joe was a go-getter, just like her. They were cut from the same cloth. The breadwinners of their family, paving the way and making it seamless for everyone who came after them. 

When she found herself in Joe’s orbit, that fast life filled with nasty habits, slowed down a bit. Nothing else mattered. It's like they were the only two on planet earth and everything else was just distant noise. 

They married only three months after knowing each other. When you know, you just know. Of course the public had their opinions about how they were just another Hollywood couple that wouldn’t last, but majority of the world adored them. 

The wedding was like a national holiday. Vogue did an entire spread of them and it was flying off the shelves. That cover would be the one to define the entire state of stardom in their generation. It was everywhere. Joe sitting open-shirt, with Brielle and her half a million dollar Givenchy wedding gown, on his lap. Picture perfect.

Fiji was their honeymoon destination. An entire week off the grid. Nothing but love making, skinny dipping in the waterfall caves, and two people who couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, celebrating a whole lifetime they had left to get tangled in each other’s web.

Returning to the states was like entering into another level of life. It seemed her instantaneous marriage to Joe, took her status from superstar to legendary. She was Dior’s new muse and Joe was her older, wealthy, athletic husband. For the first time in all of Brielle’s twenty-five years of living, she was happy.

But that was back then. Three years later the stakes are higher. She’s adapted and now her ideas of what happiness is, have changed. She’d have to go back to the drawing board to figure out exactly what she wanted out of life. There were just a few hurdles and demons she’d have to address before then.

Her alcohol dependence for one. While most supermodels indulged in coke or popping pills, Brielle’s fatal flaw was alcohol. It started off as her just blacking out at parties like everyone else would. Then it escalated. She became the party girl. Always dancing on tables. Skinny dipping in someone’s pool. It was harmless until she started getting into scuffles in nightclubs. TMZ catching her and Joe having a screaming match where she was obviously drunk. Picking fights and starting shit with him at public events, like the one they were at now. 

She clung to drinking because it helped her cope, especially lately, with the fact that the life she was doused in and became accustomed to, wouldn’t always be. It haunted her.

All models have an expiration date. She dreaded the day when it came. It would come like a thief in the night she had heard. One day she’d be trending, booked and shoved on every platform possible. The next day it would all vanish. She’d go from being Joe’s sexy, young, supermodel wife, to just his wife. 

Alcohol was her companion. Alcohol was there on the lonely nights, early mornings, and impossibly long days. Alcohol was there on nights like tonight, when she felt alone in a room full of people. When her mind was overrun by dark thoughts of the unforeseeable future, where her career and everything she worked for would be in limbo. 

Joe just didn’t get it. Women were treated accordingly based on their looks. Men were treated accordingly based on their pockets. He could be retired and worn out and they’d still love him as long as he was paid. This wasn’t her reality. And there bore another disconnect in their marriage.

She loved Joe. There was no denying that. A blind man didn’t need to see it, because just by standing within two feet of them he would be able to feel it. From the night they met, neither could ignore the magnet-like, invisible force, urging them to one another. First night, nothing but heat and passion transpired between them. And it stayed that way every night after, only growing. But sometimes passion painted an ugly picture. People were passionate about addiction. Others passionate about racism. Passion is not synonymous with healthy.

They came colliding into one another from two different worlds, seemingly at the same pace. Young, hungry, and swimming in new money. Only he was oil and she was water. Brielle just always felt like a jaguar in a room full of house cats. Completely out of place. Out of her element. Too much. Their worlds just didn’t mix. Or so she thought…

“Brielle?” A feminine voice questioned not too far from behind her. 

Brielle paused her idle twisting of the wedding ring, weighing her left hand down, to turn to the voice in question.

A yellow-boned, thin woman, as tall as her stared back with an infectious grin. She had thick, wavy curls, cascading down her back. The emerald green silk gown she wore only enhancing her smooth skin. The bitch was bad and still, Brielle couldn’t pinpoint where she knew her from.  Brielle’s eyes somehow landed on the red birthmark that adorned the mystery woman’s right hand and it hit her like a wrecking ball.

“Millie?” Her head dipped. “Oh my god.” The two beauties conjoined in a hug and rocked side to side chuckling in equal disbelief that they had found one another. “What are you doing here?”

“Girl, modeling was a bust. Trying to dip my toes into this sports journalism thing. I’ve just been interviewing some of the guys on the roster before Summerslam next week.”

Millie had been one of the very few models Brielle took a liking to during her early years doing runway. During her first fashion week they were glued to each other’s hip. Exchanging gossip,  sex stories, walking tips and beauty secrets. 

It had been nearly two years since she laid eyes on her. It's like she had vanished from the face of the earth. That happened a lot in the modeling industry. So many pretty faces came and went. It was hard to keep up. She chalked it up to her probably getting sent to rehab for a coke problem or something. Thats usually where the models disappeared to. That or a billionaire from another country scooped them up.

Born to two Cuban immigrants, Millie was just trying to get ahead in the city of dreams, but nothing about her stood out to scouts and labels. She had a killer walk, but runway was all she could pull off. Her face card was exceptional, but it wasn't memorable. And anything other than memorable in the modeling world would get one tossed and forgotten quick.

“Where’s Joe?” Millie’s eyes danced around the room.

Brielle’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of her husband. His name fell so comfortably from the girl’s plump lips, it's like she’s said it a thousand times over.

“Joe?” Usually people who didn’t know him referred to him by his stage name, Roman. Millie had to have been somewhat familiar with him to call him by his name.

“Yeah,” she waved almost with a child-like giddiness once she found him across the way. He put a big hand up and nodded once to acknowledge her. Brielle tried to keep her face neutral, observing the whole exchange.

“Y-you know Joe?”

“Of course I do. He didn’t tell you?” She grinned wide.

Only Brielle’s eyes looked around in wonder. “Tell me what?” She chuckled to ease the underlying tension.

“Joe and I dated. Way, way back in the day.”

“Dated?” Her doe eyes became significantly wider. “Well, when was this?” She probed through a tight, manufactured smile as to not throw Millie off.

“Oh, girl,” the Latin beauty waved a dainty hand chuckling. “That was so long ago. He was still with The Shield, then. Didn’t even have a full beard.” Brielle tried to swallow an insult. It was on the tip of her tongue as she watched Millie eye her husband with nostalgia all in her gaze. No, she wanted her to keep spilling. She knew Joe would downplay it, so this was her best bet at collecting the truth.

“I was so happy for you guys after the proposal.” Millie finally snatched her eyes from Joe to focus on Brielle. “And that cover and spread in Italian Vogue? Fucking iconic…” It was now Brielle’s turn to burn a hole through her husband. She tried her best to not let the thoughts running through her mind, show on her face, but it was all in the vein that made itself visible on her forehead. The constant rubbing of her fingertips. If Millie touched her, she’d probably jump like she had come in contact with a stovetop burner. “It's crazy though,” Millie continued with her head cocked to the side. “Joe never struck me as the marrying type. Don’t get me wrong he’s an absolute sweetheart. I just couldn’t see him sitting in one spot long enough for just one woman to catch his attention. I guess men really do change for who they want to,” Millie finished with a drawn out sigh.

“Yeah. I guess they do, huh…”

“Well, this was a shock.” Millie stretched her arms out and Brielle came in for another hug. Her smile faded once she rested her chin on her shoulder and reemerged after pulling back.

“It was really nice to see you, Mills. Good luck on the whole journalism thing.”

Millie flashed Brielle another bright smile and walked off in a direction she wasn’t paying attention to because she was too busy glaring at Joe still.

There were days when Brielle took into account what the public had said about her marriage. That it was fake. For publicity. Or that it simply wouldn’t last because of how fast the two seemingly fell in love. 

They didn’t waste any time. Fucked on the first night. Vacationed together a week after. He was moving her in just a month later. Before Brielle knew it, he was down on one knee asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. Her infatuation with the kindhearted man who looked like he could kill anyone with his bare hands, drove her decision. She loved the way he took charge of his life and career, and turned the entire business in his family’s favor. How he kicked cancer’s ass. How every room he went in, people couldn’t help but to stop and stare.

It seems they did everything backwards. Got all the big hurdles out the way and worked their way down. Brielle found herself at times dumbfounded at just how little she knew about Joe’s past. Too many times she’s had to sit and listen to someone tell her something about the man she slept next to.

She’s not stupid. Of course there were women before her. I mean look at him. But a model? Models were such superficial creatures. Always caught up in glamour and materialistic matters. Joe was too grounded and down to earth in Brielle’s mind to bat an eye at what the world viewed as a mannequin. She thought she was the exception. Clearly not.

From across the way, Joe caught his wife staring at him again. His mouth curved into a smirk and he winked at her.

“Sexy, two-faced bastard,” she mumbled bringing the glass of vodka to her lips.

The couple rode back to their penthouse in an uncomfortable silence. After any event, the partition  was rolled up so Brielle could bless her man whatever way she saw fit. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But tonight, she clung to the left door in the back of the black Suburban, eyes never leaving the tinted window, gazing at the bright lights that decorated the city. 

Joe gave a harsh side eye to her. The deliberate space she placed between them by crossing her legs to the door was a dead give away that she was pissed. Physical touch was a shared love language between them. The absence of it could be felt immediately.

He refused to gauge what the issue was in such a confined space. That mistake was made several times before and never ended well. He’d have to wait until they were alone and in the comfort of their own space.

She didn’t realize, but his eyes were on her all night while she threw each glass the bartender fed her back like it was the fountain of youth. When Jey found him they both exchanged looks. It didn’t need to be said. The soft spot Joe’s cousin grew for Brielle, couldn’t overshadow his concern for her obvious drinking problem. He and his brother Jimmy got a front row seat to the downfall of America’s beloved couple. Too many nights having to chase an intoxicated Brielle down, or dragging them apart from verbally destroying each other.

All night, Joe’s anxiety grew like wildfire with every drink and every minute that passed where he couldn’t just leave with her. Now, in the backseat of the truck, he rubbed his forehead already feeling a headache from the argument that hadn’t even happened yet. He wished he could just press a button and fast forward to the part where they fucked and forgot about whatever the problem was.

When they got to their building, she stormed out of the car not bothering to wait for the driver or Joe to open her door like usual. Ignoring the doorman and the lady at the front desk she usually greets, her heels clicked aggressively on the marble floor of the lobby all the way to the elevator. 

Joe stood behind her near the back elevator wall. He bit his bottom lip at the deep line in her back that led to her perky ass. Even with her attitude, he had the urge to rip her clothes off and fuck it right out of her. The elevator dinged when they reached the top floor. She wasted no time breezing fiercely through the foyer area, and collecting the bottom of her gown in her hands to stomp up the wooden floating stairs.

“Brielle, bring your ass back down here.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Brielle had fell in love with the way he could make the world and everyone in it shift without doing too much. Not tonight though. No, tonight the control he had over her pissed her off to no end. She turned around in the middle of the steps, but defiantly didn’t make a move to come down. Instead she stood her ground and crossed her arms like a child about to be grounded.

“Alright. Let’s get this shit over with.” He removed the suit jacket and laid it over the back of the all white loveseat and rested his hands on his hips. “What has pissed Brielle off tonight, huh?”

“Besides the fact that my husband has been passed around?” She shrugged throwing the first punch. “I don’t know.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “You wanna elaborate, sweetheart?”

“You and Millie? Why didn’t I know that you two dated?”

“Dated is a very generous word. More like slept together.”

“Don’t try to downplay it, okay? Doesn’t matter what happened between you two. Why did I have to hear it from her?”

“I don't understand what’s pissed you off? The fact that I’ve fucked with other women before you?”

“I’m not talking about other women.” She slapped the back of her hand to her other palm sharply. “I’m talking about one woman. A woman I considered a friend. A friend I told you about!”

His shoulders shrugged almost high enough to reach his ears. “Why does it matter? You knew her like two years ago—”

“It doesn’t matter if I knew her ten years ago, damn it!” She stormed down the stairs and brushed past him to the kitchen. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shook his head knowing what she went in there for. More alcohol.

Cabinets opened and shut continuously, until he heard her heels making their way back to the living room. She stood across from him vexed.

“I threw it out,” he answered the question she didn’t have to ask. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he was ready for however she would react. 

She scoffed and giggled at once. “Don’t you think my drinking is the last thing you should be worried about right now?”

“What could be more important than you getting healthy?”

She rolled her eyes looking to the ceiling with a forced smile. “I can’t believe this. I sat there all night watching you work the room. By myself! While you work, you expect me to just sit in a corner like a fucking mannequin? Smile and look pretty, right? Don’t say a word, don’t draw too much attention? Well tell me, Joe, what would you have done tonight?” She held a hand up. “Oh wait! Don't let me forget, just when the night couldn’t get any worse, I have to hear the horror story of how my husband and my friend used to fuck!”

“You are so fucking ungrateful,” he shook his head removing his cufflinks. “Unbelievable.”

“Un—” She scoffed. “Ungrateful?” She turned her head as if she didn’t hear him right.

“Thats right,” he nodded with a face void of any expression. “Look around you. Look at where you are.” He spread his toned arms out wide. “In a penthouse overlooking all of Brooklyn. Five  hundred thousand dollar dress on. Closet full of designer that could feed a fucking third-world country. Fucking thousand dollar sculptures from Italy, just for it to sit on a glass table all day.” Brielle flinched at the Versace Rokko Cheetah sculpture flying to the other side of the room and shattering. Just as quick, she straightened up, knowing he wasn’t crazy enough to take his frustrations out on her that way.

“What’s your point, Joe?” 

“My fucking point is, I put you on the highest pedestal possible and I work my ass off every day to make sure you can live like this. And all you seem to be worried about is some bitch I was smashing, back when I used to bring a damn blow up mattress with me to arenas?” He squinted in disbelief. 

“You’re missing my whole point!”

“What point?!”

Back and forth they shouted, but still neither one of them heard the other. It was all pointless. Just a battle of pride and resentment.

“Oh my god,” he threw his hands up. “Oh my god. This is fucking stupid. I can’t believe this, is what you want to fight about.”

Brielle’s chest stung and her eyes followed suit. Her feelings were stupid now. Just a blimp on his star-studded life. There was a point in time, where every little need, every little voice of discomfort, he would fall at his feet to correct for her. 

She turned and rushed up the steps. She was overwhelmed and refused to keep the yelling match up. In their walk-in closet, she let the dress fall and pool around her feet, to change into her mint-colored Juicy Couture sweatsuit. She stuffed an LV duffel with clothes and headed to the bathroom next to sweep everything that was hers off the counter and into the bag.

Unfazed by her theatrics, Joe sat on the couch downstairs, shaking his head at all the ruckus she was making. 

“G’head,” he waved. “Leave. You’ll be back anyway.”

“Fuck you, Joe!”

“Yeah, sure.” He sat back on the cream colored couch, arms outstretched, dress shirt unbuttoned, without a care in the world.

Brielle and him both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. It was the same shit every time. They’d argue and fuss all night, she’d threaten to leave, packing a bag to stay in an expensive hotel, paid for with his black card. He’d show up with an expensive gift. Usually jewelry. Maybe a bag by some designer that hadn’t even hit the shelves yet. A trip to an island she had never been before. Shoes. Those were her favorite. She had a whole collection in the walk-in, courtesy of Joe. Each pair she could pinpoint which argument it was a result of.

After the grand gift, it was make up sex and they’d be in the honeymoon phase for two weeks tops, then the cycle repeats. Joe had grown tired of it. Two years ago it was exciting and far left from the good girls with degrees he was used to.

Brielle was a breath of fresh air until her ways started to suffocate him. She had a personality that was larger than life and an attitude to match. Included in the packaging was a love so fiery and consuming, you forget to breathe. And although he had seen enough, been through enough, and was old enough to know better, he still found himself from time to time gasping for air after forgetting to breathe around her.

She was like a drug. Potent, exhilarating, and unpredictable. He was hooked. And unfortunately for the both of them, he wouldn’t know how to get off her even if he tried.

Bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way back downstairs and all the way to the door.

“Brielle…” The sound of his baritone voice had her frozen in place. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep from his nose. “You walk out that door and you gon’ be sorry.”

“I just need space—”

“Then pick a room. It's real spacious in here.”

Brielle turned and made her pursuit back to the stairs. He wasn’t going to let her leave tonight. She didn’t just want space, she wanted the one thing she depended on when it felt like the walls of her life were closing in on her. And he was actively trying to take that away from her.

“I hate you,” she spat with venom in all three words.

The foot that was previously propped up on the glass coffee table came down as he sat up, elbows rested on his knees.

“Im sorry…what?” 

“You heard me.” She started back up the floating steps, but halted upon seeing him rise to his full height in her peripheral. She had only made it to the third step. She turned in place and there he was at the bottom, eye level now.

“You wanna repeat that again, while I’m standing right here in your face?” He dared, hands clasped in front of him.

She knew better than to test him. Hate wasn't something they just tossed back and forth. Irritation, maybe. Disgust even. But hate? Joe didn’t play that shit. Not with her or anybody else in his circle.

He nodded with his tongue just barely teasing the hairs on the side of his mouth. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“That fucking character you play,” she squinted looking him up and down. “It’s not a fucking character! You’re a narcissistic, manipulative, controlling—”

“You were singing a whole different tune this morning.” Her mind flashed to just fourteen hours prior when he was balls deep, quite literally driving her up the shower wall. In the aftermath they held each other as she told him how much he meant to her and how he changed her life. The man from this morning and the one in front of her were two different men with the same face.

She shook her head holding back tears. “You’re never who I need you to be when I need you to be it,” she exaggerated. Joe always knew who to be. Always knew exactly where it hurt. If he showed up as something different it was seldom and with purposeful intent.

Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Well maybe if you opened your fucking mouth and told me what you needed, I could provide it. But, no. You’d rather look for answers at the bottom of a shot glass! So tell me, Brielle—tell me! What do you need?!”

“I don’t know!” She screamed in frustration and was snatched off the steps by the front of her hoodie.

Their lips collided. Two tornadoes full of angst coming together to form what was their complicated ass marriage. 

See, Joseph Anoa’i the man outside of the ring was delicate and considerate. He displayed affection as much as he could and never touched Brielle with any thing less than love. However, the man he was in the bedroom, or wherever else he saw fit to take Brielle down, was a beast. Unforgiving and relentless. His ring persona, Roman Reigns, took over him like he had a split personality. He manipulated, tossed and flipped Brielle’s slim frame however he wanted her. Narcissistic in the way he couldn't care less if he hit it so hard that she couldn’t breathe.

Tonight was no different. As a matter of fact, tonight he had something to prove. It was deeper than just make up sex, or angry sex. He intended to break Brielle down. Resentment and frustration grew inside of him like weeds, all stemming from Brielle’s misbehaved, toxic and unpolished ways whenever she got an ounce of liquor in her. The garden was no longer pretty. He was tired of faking the funk. He was going to put his foot down tonight, making sure she felt all the consequences of her actions.

His big hands slid down to the back of her knees, hiking her up so her long legs could wrap around his waist. He never broke the connection. His thick tongue continued to invade her mouth, claiming what’s his.

The pair expended all their breath and stole more from one another. That was the complicated formula of their bond. Give and take. Take then give.

Brielle stared up in awe at the god before her after he released her onto their all white couch. Every ridge and line in his abdomen telling a story of his hard work and dedication to his craft. He removed the black button up to reveal the rest of the artwork on his right arm, never breaking eye contact with his wife. His manhood made an impressive print through his slacks as it begged for freedom.

Brielle wasn’t moving fast enough for him. In fact, she wasn’t moving at all. She was too mesmerized by the sight of him. Good enough to eat, she thought. Every time she saw his body it felt like the first time.

He tore the zipper of her Juicy hoodie down in such haste to reveal her chocolate nipples, he broke it. Before Brielle could complain, she was flipped over and put on all fours. The waistband of her sweats were pulled down to her knees, exposing her warm core to the cold air.

A gasp escaped her lips as they fell wide open from the feeling of his entire mouth latching onto her most sensitive nerve. The entirety of his palms covered both ass cheeks, as he spread them apart to feast on her.

He didn’t have the patience for formalities. She didn’t deserve it anyway. He attacked her clit, switching from sucking and licking with broad strokes of his tongue.

 “Oh my—fuckkkk.” Brielle was stuck between pushing back into his mouth and running from it completely. She wouldn’t get far. The grip his rough hands established on her ass would lock her in place.

“Sweet ass,” he mumbled into her. He pulled away for a second to bite down on her left cheek before going back to eating. A pit of pure ecstasy formed in her lower stomach impossibly fast. She shut her eyes tight, prepared to explode, listening to the wet sounds of him demolishing her and his hefty breaths. Her breathing accelerated while she reached for the pillow to gain some type of hold. And just when she thought she would reach her peak, she was left with nothing.

Joe pulled completely away once he decided she was ready for him. Something like a whimper left her pouted lips. He took his time unbuckling his pants and releasing himself from the confines of his briefs.

“Stay down,” he demanded in a dark tone that sent a chill down her spine.

Brielle felt like a junkie, waiting and barely able to keep still. Joe’s tongue slid out over his top lip at the masterpiece before him. His supermodel wife, bent over and her wet, fat center exposed, waiting for him. His dick jumped and he grabbed the base of it to align with her pussy.

His thick mushroom head glided along her arousal, coating himself to prepare for entry. She struggled to keep still. He kept grazing over her sensitive bud and it was torture. She knew he was doing it on purpose. It was wicked how he watched her desperate, contorted face and listened to her pants knowing he could put an end to her misery.

“Joe—Uhnn!” Brielle release a guttural moan from him pushing himself all the way in and bottoming out. Joe stayed there for a minute trying to brace himself. The grip and slickness always felt brand new. She was a hot head with an even hotter pussy, making it nearly impossible to leave her alone. He’d lose his mind just at the thought of another getting to experience this after him.

Without warning he palmed the back of her neck so her face was flush against the couch cushion and he snapped his hips against hers repeatedly. Mercilessly.

“Get off me.” He shoved the arm she reached back, careful not to lose his rhythm. Although small, as a result of her strict diet and expensive Lagree classes, that ass still jiggled with every thrust.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” She moaned out every time he shoved his thickness back into her. 

“Shut up,” he jerked his hips as far as they could go and got comfortable. It felt too good to move and he was determined to make her lose her fucking mind.

Brielle’s mouth fell wide open. She didn’t know what she felt. The line between pain and pleasure started to blur. She reached a hand back, in another attempt to make him ease up, but he caught it just in time and pinned it behind her small back in a vice grip.

“Joe—

“Shut the fuck up,” his top lip curled, thrusting into her again with the same force as before. “I don’t wanna hear none of that shit. Fucking take it.” His free hand came down hard on her ass, immediately causing red welts to form.

Brielle was a glutton for punishment. Her pussy contracted and it was so wet she could hear the squishy noises like somebody was playing in running water.

“You hear that shit, Bri?”

“Yes, baby. She’s so wet for you."

“At least she’s honest.” His breathing was erratic as he tried to talk shit and fuck her at the same time. “She always shows me love.” His hand came down again and he relished at the sight of her ass with new welts forming.

“Fuck!” She cried. Another smack. Then another. His pace never faltering. He let his bottom lip sink between his teeth, concentrating on how his dick slid in and out of her effortlessly. She left him shining and covered in white stuff. Every stroke wetter than the last.

“You hate me, Bri?” His eyebrows furrowed. She tried her best to look back at him. A sheen of sweat covered him and his hair had fell wildly over his broad shoulders.

Joe’s battle with leukemia had him holding everyone he loved in a vice grip, close to his chest, fearing the day he ever had to let go. He didn’t have the luxury to invite negativity and hate of all things into his space. Which is why when Brielle expressed it earlier, it triggered something in him.

Brielle shook her head as much as she could. “No—no!”

“Huh?”

His larger frame hovered over hers as he leaned over and gripped the back of the couch to push harder into it from a different angle.

“Oh god! No—baby I swear I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it. Fu-uuuck!” Her voice shook as she tried to reason with him.

“Tell daddy how sorry you are,” he toyed with her. Joe only needed to hear it for his own ego. He already knew she was sorry. She looked the part. Brows turned down, hands reaching and grasping to hold onto something, while she struggled to breathe and keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. Pathetic.

She tried to catch her breath and fulfill his wishes, but his every move sent a shockwave of pleasure right through her. All she could focus on was the feeling happening where they connected.

“Say it,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, daddy. It won’t happen again!”

“Yeah, I know it won’t. Mhm, fuck.” His ways were backfiring on him as he felt the pressure for release build in his lower stomach.

Slowing his movements down, his hand came down on her ass again. “Come on,” he instructed. She already knew the drill, rocking back and forth on him at her own pace to help them both get to the finish line.

Together they ogled at one another. Brielle in complete awe at what he was doing to her body. Joe mesmerized by the beauty below him and trying to reconcile how she became his biggest problem.

He loved the fuck out of her. Would do anything for her. His favorite accomplishment. He vowed to spend the rest of his life with her, but everyday they spent together, that dream grew more out of reach.

How could something so ethereal looking be so problematic? So angry? So insecure?

Small whimpers and cries spilled from her throat before she made a declaration that calmed him as much as it terrified him.

“I’m gonna love you forever,” she declared. It was like a hex. A spell. Binding him to her forever. Cause the hard unshakeable truth was that as long as Brielle wanted him here, he’d never leave. No matter how many fights, how many crash outs, public incidents, he knew leaving her alone would leave him suffering.

Against his initial mission to punish her, his soft nature took control. He leaned all the way down to capture her plump lips in a kiss. He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her mouth to her cheek, until he reached her ear. Whispering a mix of loving reassurances and vile obscenities to her.

“I love you so much, Bri. Keep fucking me, baby. Just like that. Yesss. You feel so good,” he encouraged in between huffs of breath. “It’s all yours baby. Take it. Just yours. Nobody else’s.” His deep voice directly in her ear and the smell of her own arousal lingering on his beard, sent her body into overdrive as her pussy spasmed around him.

Brielle’s orgasm caused a chain of reactions. His dick swelled inside her while his balls tightened. At the last second he pulled out and covered her round ass with his release. She wasn’t on birth control and loathed the idea of kids ruining her physique.

He stroked himself until the last of his cum oozed out and threw his head back. “Mm,” he groaned. Shame on Brielle. She laid on the couch, head spinning from the beating she just took mixed with all the shots she took earlier. She was just about ready to call it a night, but Joe had other plans.

“Not done with ya ass yet. Come show me how sorry you are.” Like he had just ran a match fighting off guys twice his size in the ring, his chest rose and fell as his voice became menacingly deep.

His tall frame stood in the living room, widening his stance with his hips slightly pushed forward. His dick was covered in her essence, still hard as a rock, swaying slightly from him shifting his weight back and forth on both legs.

She climbed down from the couch, knowing better than to make him wait. Crawling like the feline she was at heart, she stopped right in front of him. God, he was just fucking perfect. All she really wanted to do was climb on him and drag another nut out, but it had to wait.

Placing her dainty hands on his muscular thighs, she gazed up him and ducked slightly to swirl her tongue on his large balls. "Yeah," he breathed deep, savoring the feeling of her warm mouth.

She took his heavy dick in her hand, giving the tip teasing licks and swirls. The visual of her on her knees worshiping him was a sight to see as she gathered spit and let it ooze onto him before sinking his length into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing him as far as she possible could.

“Look at me,” he instructed in a guttural tone followed by a moan. It was music to her ears. Everything about him turned her on. She studied him and the look of mixed lust and love he provided as their eyes locked, prompting her to slide a hand down and rub herself. “That’s right. Get it wet for me.” He rocked back and forth in her mouth, on the brink of another orgasm that quick. She watched the muscles in his abdomen flex from trying to hold his nut in.

He gathered her long silky tresses into somewhat of a ponytail in his hands and pushed her head down to hit the back of her throat repeatedly.

Going as far as her throat allowed he held her there and instinctively her hands pushed at his strong thighs. Tears spilled out the corner of her eyes feeling his warm release coat her throat.

“Aghh!” He threw his head back, going to a whole different realm for a while and coming back down to earth. He looked down at the beauty below him. Mouth still full of him, mascara running, with spit decorating her chin and chest. She looked perfect to him like this. Vulnerable. Submissive. But he knew it was all just a result of the circumstances. This version of her would be long gone and forgotten in the days to come. So he decided right then, he would take full advantage while he could.

He hissed upon sliding out of her mouth as her cheeks sunk in. He lifted her up with one arm and she wrapped her legs around him. His other hand found his still semi-hard thickness to ease into her. Together they exhaled when he slid in. The feeling of her had him bricked back up in no time.

"Hold on. Tighter," he instructed. He maneuvered her long legs in crook of his arms before moving her up and down at full force. All gas no brakes.

Joe hummed softly to himself, turning in the California King bed toward his wife. It was late. Their night didn’t end until the wee hours of the morning. He immediately knocked out when it was over. He was exhausted mentally and physically.

Brielle however, couldn’t quiet her mind long enough to sleep. He found her wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room. The city lights from their bedroom window cascaded over her enough for him to see her face. Something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” He questioned in a sleepy voice.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Then come here.” When she didn’t make a move to come closer to him, his eyebrows dented. She lay frozen in place, as the noise from the city took away from the eerie silence in the room.

“Do you think I need help?”

Joe released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. They had this conversation before. Too many times. Only it was never a conversation. Mostly an argument of some sort. Him complaining and practically begging her to get help. Trying to reason and get her to see that drinking at every event, at every inconvenience, just wasn’t normal. That it was killing them. Killing her.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think about yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “…I don’t know.” He watched a single tear slide out the corner of her eye. He wanted to blame his own eyes beginning to sting on him being a natural empath, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He loved this woman. So by default, whatever she felt he also felt times ten.

“I used to look in the mirror and loved what I saw. I was confident. Proud of what I was. And that was when I had nothing. I was a nobody three years ago. Now i’m somebody and I just feel so empty…”

Seeing a glimpse of the girl he met years ago, who snatched his heart from his chest with no remorse, had him frozen in place. Vulnerability was not a dress Brielle wore often. He bore a hole into the side of her face while she confided in him.

“All the flashing lights, the cameras, the money…I don’t know if i’ll be able to handle the day it all stops. I don’t think I know who I am without it anymore. I never meant for it to go this far.”

Joe took her dainty hand in his and squeezed. An attempt to let her know that everything was going to be okay. But the truth of the matter is that he didn’t know if everything would be okay. He knew he loved her and that she loved him right back. Only problem with that? The saddest truth about life is that sometimes love is just not enough.

….Well?😂

I know y’all were asking for a continuation of Biggest Fan, but I already had this in the tuck and was hyper fixating. Plus, I’m not entirely sure I want to continue Biggest Fan yet since I didn’t plan on it. I’ll keep y’all updated.

As always, if you read up until this point, I am forever grateful. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

taglist: @raya-hunter01

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Intertextuality

Applying Literary Inspiration to Your Writing

The concept of intertextuality is a literary theory stating all works of literature are a derivation or have been influenced by a previous work of literature.

There is deliberate intertextuality, which purposely borrows from texts,

and there is latent intertextuality, which is when references occur incidentally—the connection or influence isn’t deliberate—as all written text makes intertextuality possible.

Some intertextual references are exact lines of dialogue or action, while others are more vaguely referenced.

The definition of intertextuality includes forms of parody, pastiche, retellings, homage, and allegory.

Any work of literature that is involved in the creation of a new text is considered intertextual.

Tips for Using Intertextuality

Intertextuality is a literary device that can be used in a number of different ways within your own work:

Venture outside the genre. You can use works like Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy or John Milton’s Paradise Lost to craft an intertextual work that isn’t a biblical or religion-themed story. Horror can inspire comedy, like for spoofs or parodies, and comedy can inspire drama. Lines of dialogue can be used as titles or inspiration for your work, storylines can be placed in a different time or setting to create a new plot, even text from formal essays or other parodies can be used within your own writing to make it intertextual.

Embrace it. According to some, intertextuality is either deliberate or latent but is completely unavoidable. Every text has been influenced by the countless ones that have come before it. With that in mind, it’s okay to accept that “everything has already been written” and make something of your own.

Don’t plagiarize. You may not need to use quotation marks, but using another author’s work as a basis for your own does not mean copying their writing—or taking credit for their original writing. Intertextuality is about referencing, allusions, satire, and borrowing, not taking whole texts and changing the character names.

Examples of Intertextuality

In the 1960s, literary critic Julia Kristeva posed the idea that intertextual relationships could be found throughout many forms of literature—different texts exist through their relation to prior literary texts—feeding into the idea that no text is truly or uniquely original. The notion of intertextuality posits that everything has some form of influence or borrowing from literary works of the past.

According to Kristeva, nearly all works contain some form of reference to another work of the past. Below are examples of many famous writings that employ the use of intertextuality:

The main plotline of Disney’s The Lion King is a take on Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

The structure of James Joyce’s Ulysses is modeled after Homer’s Odyssey.

Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres is a contemporary retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear.

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys is an intertextual work of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre as it includes the wife of a secondary character from the novel as one of its own, and offers an alternative point of view on similar social issues of the prior narrative.

Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series is an inverted retelling of John Milton’s Paradise Lost.

Matt Groenig’s television show The Simpsons uses multiple intertextual references to literature, films, other tv shows, and commercials for its storylines and jokes.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[azus-reyan]

Punctuation marks (? , ! .), with fun facts. 

The comma ( , )

✅ Serial comma: Ted played with Jack, Jason, and his dog Max.

��� Bracketing comma: A tortoise named Jonathan, the oldest living land animal, is aged 192 years. Or: Jonathan, aged 192 years old, is the oldest living land animal.

✅ Joining comma: The Eiffel Tower was originally made for Barcelona, but was built in Paris.

✅ Introductory comma: With 116 lanes, the largest bowling alley in the world is in Japan.

Period or the full stop ( . )

✅ The longest English word has 45 letters.

✅ Abbreviations: Dr. William Macewen was the first doctor to successfully remove a brain tumor.

✅ Initials: The first satellite launched by N.A.S.A was called Explorer One.

✅ Decimals: The value of Pie is 3.14.

Question mark ( ? )

✅ Did you know that honey never spoils?

Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?

Exclamation point ( ! )

✅ Bananas are berries but strawberries aren’t!

A shrimp’s heart is in its head!

Semi color ( ; )

✅ Koalas sleep up to 22 hours a day; they’re basically professional nappers.

Cows have best friends; they get stressed when separated.

Colon ( : )

✅ List: The world is full of fun facts: Flamingos aren’t born pink, your ears and nose never stop growing, and Russia has eleven time zones!

✅ Elaboration: The shortest war was between Britain and Zanzibar: it lasted 38 minutes. 

✅ Quotation: He said: “Saturn’s rings can tell us how the solar system was born.” 

Em dash ( — )

✅ Interruption: The Great Wall of China—spanning over 13,000 miles—was originally built to protect against invasions.

✅ Additional information: The giraffe—the tallest land animal—can grow up to 18 feet tall.

En dash ( – )

✅ Range indication: The day–night cycle influences all living creatures.

✅ Connection of related items: The land–sea balance affects the planet’s climate.

Hyphen ( - )

✅ Joining parts of words: The ice-cream cone is enjoyed all around the world.

✅ Dividing a word by the end of a line: In the past, hyphens were used at the end of lines to split long words, helping maintain neat a-nd consistent text layouts in printed books and newspapers.

Parenthesis ( )

✅ Clarifying a point: The cheetah is the fastest land animal (it can reach 60 miles per hour).

✅ Minor thoughts: The Amazon rainforest produces 20% of the world's oxygen (it's called the lungs of the Earth).

Brackets ( [ ] )

✅ The giant panda's diet consists mostly of bamboo [despite being a carnivore]

Apostrophe ( ‘ )

✅ Showing possession: Shakespeare's plays are still performed all over the world.

✅ Forming contractions: “Can't” is one of the most common contractions in the English language.

 Quotation marks ( “ “ ) 

✅ Indication of speech: Albert Einstein once said, "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

✅ Highlighting words or phrases: “A Temporary Matter” is the first short story in ‘Interpreter of Maladies’.

Ellipses ( … )

✅ Omission: In the famous phrase "To be or not to be... that is the question," the ellipsis is used to omit part of the original quote.

Pausing or trailing off: People often say, "I saw something strange... but I can't explain it," pausing to build suspense.

Slash ( / )

✅ Indication of alternatives: Some people are team dog/cat when it comes to pets, but did you know that people who own both often live longer?

✅ Separation of lines of poetry: In "Bohemian Rhapsody," the lyrics "Is this the real life? / Is this just fantasy?" slashes are used instead of "or", to separate lines.

[bedazzled-applesauce]

okay let me set the stage

an indeterminable amount of time into the future, season 16 comes out in the fall, somehow finangling itself out of the s15 finale. the main plot point being trying to get cas out of superhell. think good omens season two in that it’s more layed back and focused on character analysis and relationship building. dean is worse than we’ve ever seen him. the first 2 episodes are through the perspective of a kinda messed up but overall healthy if not exceedingly worried sam, and occasionally, a not sober nor lucid dean very near drinking himself to death, not ever leaving the library, surrounded by a very large number of open books; he been trying to get cas back. jack needs to be hands off, no matter what, and the empty is holding him to that, non negotiably, so it’s really up to sam and dean to fight against fate itself.

eventually, we do get cas back, somehow someway. there are the supernatural required multiple episodes of “is he gonna make it or not” wherein cas is whitekuckling life, helped along by a gentle but exceedingly awkward and uncomfortable dean. by the time cas is recovered enough for actual conversation, we the viewers are all on the edge of our seats. when dean finally says the well awaited “cas, we need to talk about what you said back then” line, the viewers are vibrating with impatience, having been egged on by a few episodes of unfortunately timed interruptions keeping dean from actually talking about s15e18. cas steps forward, and the show cuts to whatever sam is dealing with at the time. something entirely unimportant. it’s not mentioned again for the rest of the episode.

everyone freaks, tumblr is breaking with the force of hundreds of posts per second, and a light shines through the chaos. the cw supernatural accounts, announcing in some vague but unmistakable way that the rest of the destiel confirmation has already been recorded, but for dramatic effect, the show will air it on november 5th. a few weeks, and a few episodes, past when the post had initially been made. but in the few filler episodes before the big confession, dean and cas have been subtly acting differently. eyefucking each other somehow more often than usual, and much more obviously, constantly just looking at each other fondly, just more of the same “subtext” we’ve been living on already, only amplified, and with witty and annoyed but fond comments from sam. misha has been busy during these trying times, talking about airtight ndas and just building a lot of anticipation in the form of posts with cleverly placed quotation marks. it finally airs, and the big scene they’d been talking up consisted of dean beginning his “we need to talk” before giving up and having the big kiss in an attempt to convey his emotions. they make out very aggressively against deans door, on his bed, steadily ramping up the excitement and loosing articles of clothing, before a fade to black. there’s a clever shot just before the fade though, which is taken from deans desk, their frenzied kissing blurred in the background, as in the forefront, cas’s trenchcoat is hurriedly thrown over the chair, on top of deans jacket with the bloody handprint on it from cas’s sacrifice scene.

they do eventually have the long awaited talk later in the episode, laying in deans bed with that cw classic “bedsheets as low hung as we could possibly get them” shot. the confession is awkward and broken up by a whole lot of making out, and it’s clear that dean is putting into words what he’s actively figuring out about his feelings. he tells a lot of unfunny jokes, and attempts to leave a few times, but eventually dean gets it all out. it’s in this post-sex confession scene that all the speculation over how no one has really seen deans neck in the past few episodes is proven more than just overthinking. hickies litter his neck, from the juncture connecting his neck to his shoulders, all the way up to behind his ear. but it’s nothing compared to the absolutely horrendous scratches on cas’s back, of which the viewers never see, only alluded to by a horrified sam, making a one off joke about whether or not dean was some kind of clawed creature. everything is good.

the last episode of the season is only a few weeks into the future, a domestic cas and dean are gently bickering in the kitchen, dean prepping food before what is apparently a “big reunion dinner” celebrating cas’s return to earth. sam and eileen are being gross and couple-y, seen dancing together in the library before time skipping to them playing footsie at the map table across from cas and dean, who are doing the same thing. there’s a moment during the first few seconds of the scene where dean accidentally taps his foot against sam’s, leading to the generally awkward and embarrassed vibes that a good supernatural episode just wouldn’t be complete without. there’s table consists of jody and donna and the girls, jack, cas and dean, charlie, basically everyone we know who is still alive. everyone is happy, destiel is officially unruined and completely canon, everyone is alive, and the ending is actually good. the end.

[anonymous-dentist]

I’ve seen a lot of people genuinely and sincerely wondering why the Federation can’t heal Empanada back up to two lives using the Egg Hospital, and that just means that the Federation Propaganda is working.

So let me explain how the Eggs work within the lore of the QSMP:

The Eggs, in the beginning, were supposed to be a one or two week event. The parents with the happiest egg would get a prize. The parents with dead eggs would be punished.

Within Lore, these original eggs- Dapper, Leo, Chayanne, Ramon, Tilin, Flippa, Bobby, and Trump(et)- were the children of a “dragon mother” who had flown away from the island after the islanders blew up the wall. Tallulah was a later addition, but she is “biologically” (we’ll come back to the quotation marks in a second) related to the og eggs. So is Pomme, who had been stuck under the adoption center for over a month waiting to be adopted. Our outliers are Richarlyson- who wasn’t even supposed to exist yet, Sunny, Empanada, and Pepito.

And then there are the other Eggs. The dead ones. Like “Hope”, the egg the Federation left to die in the middle of nowhere waiting to be adopted. Or Egg A1, the egg ElQuackity was experimenting on that burned to death. Or the several dead eggs mentioned in the Maze Book, the ones who would be Sunny and Empanada and Pepito’s siblings if those three really are the three surviving eggs from the Maze Book.

You see, the Eggs aren’t real. They’re artificial. We’ve known this since May/June when SOFIA analyzed “Richarlyson’s placenta” (don’t ask) and found, wow! The Eggs are essentially artificial, inorganic lifeforms. And then we see ElQ experimenting on A1, and then we hear about the Maze Experiment, and then we find out about Egg Island and how the Federation technically owns it, and we realize, oh. Huh.

The Eggs have never met their supposed dragon mother. That’s because she doesn’t exist. The Eggs were created solely for the purpose of the experiment the islanders are unwillingly part of. They’re tools, and the Federation doesn’t care about them.

The Eggs, to the Federation, are more or less expendable. The Feds’ primary focus is the islanders and keeping them under control. The Eggs still being alive now is only because the Feds quickly realized that their test subjects would fucking lose it if the Eggs were taken away like they were supposed to have been.

But if the Eggs happen to die on their own, so be it. That’s fine. They’re kids, they’re fragile.

Tilin and Flippa and Trump and Bobby are all dead, and it’s been shown that the Feds could have brought them back permanently by putting them in the hospital they canonically have, or by bringing them back “by magic” like how Sapo Peta revived Flippa after the trial. This is why Cellbit infiltrated the Feds in the first place and it’s a HUGE part of why he hates them now! He knows that they could keep every egg safe and alive, but they choose not to because, again, the eggs are expendable!

If the Federation had their way, the Eggs wouldn’t have been retrieved at all when they disappeared. But the islanders started going berserk and rebelling and the Feds went “Oh, shit”, and thus the Eggs’ return was made a priority.

The Eggs are a form of control, and everybody even remotely questioning the Federation knows it. Keeping the Eggs around and alive serves to keep the islanders in line. If they rebel, the Eggs could die. This is why the Eggs were brought back in the first place, and it’s why the parents of dead eggs and those without eggs in the first place were the ones assigned to Sunny, Empanada, and Pepito. Those people couldn’t be controlled, but now they can be. People like Tubbo won’t mess with Cucurucho anymore because they don’t want their kids dead; it’s why Cellbit only started lashing out after Richarlyson had been gone for almost two months.

So… why don’t they just keep the Eggs alive?

Easy. Because the Eggs are expendable. Them living is the easiest option, but them dying isn’t really a huge issue. People like Jaiden have been easy enough to manipulate after losing their egg. Grieving parents so far haven’t had huge explosive reactions (except for Maxo, who very notably did have a huge explosive reaction.) Slime and Mariana fell into depressive states, Jaiden became easier to manipulate, Quackity was able to be kidnapped and brainwashed. Roier and Maxo kept their illegal rebellious activities under wraps, and neither really made any big huge moves against the Feds (again, outside of the nuke.)

If the Eggs die naturally, it’s fine. It’s the parents’ faults for letting their child die- just look at how nobody blamed the Federation for permanently taking Bobby away, but people both on the server and off blamed Roier for “getting him killed”, or how Mariana is the scapegoat for the Federation not bringing Flippa back to life when they easily could’ve done so.

Eggs dying naturally turns islander aggression inwards… with the exceptions of Cellbit, Roier, and Maxo, and now Bagi and Mousey. The Feds don’t want anyone getting angry at them, they want the islanders to get angry at themselves. That way, nobody can organize against them.

So the Feds won’t reverse a life lost. They won’t revive a dead egg. They don’t need to. The Eggs aren’t the experiment here. They aren’t important.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

To follow up on my Hosanna poll, I think before things go any further, it'd be good to actually explain and define it. I was initially going to wait until the end of the poll, but it seems that google is giving people a lot of bad and/or conflicting answers and I'd rather people walk away with the correct information.

So! Hosanna is an anglicized version of the Hebrew words "hosha na" [הושע נא or as a contraction הושענא]. Hosha na is a little enigmatic and hard to translate, but the simplest translation is probably "save us, please." It's traditionally used as an exclamation to G-d to rescue us, but it also has shades of being a triumphant shout (the implication being confidence that G-d will save us.)

Jews say "hoshanot" (the plural of hosha na) as part of our traditional Sukkot liturgy, and is something we do still today.

For us, the multi-faceted meaning of the root word allows us to have multiple layers of meaning. During Sukkot, we start praying for rain in its proper season and amounts, and we shake the lulav and etrog as part of these processions and liturgy. On Hoshana Rabba [the "great hoshana"], the last day of Sukkot, we process around the bimah (front lectern) seven times as a completion of our season of repentance and our starting of the new year with abundant blessings.

My siddur (prayer book) Lev Shalem has this as an explanation and translation:

[Image ID is of the Lev Shalem siddur, pages 382 & 383 - I tried hard to find a pdf of this that would be readable using a screen reader, but the versions I'm finding cut off at pg. 376 at the latest. If anyone has bandwidth to type this up, I would greatly appreciate it]

For the curious, here is a recording of the Hoshanot liturgy and procession:

Christians mostly know the word from the gospels and hymns.

Here is what Wikipedia says about its use in Christianity:

Historical meaning

Since those welcoming Jesus were Jewish, as of course Jesus himself was, some would interpret the cry of "Hosanna" on the entry of Jesus in its proper meaning, as a cry by the people for salvation and rescue.

Christian reinterpretation

"Hosanna" many interpret as a shout of praise or adoration made in recognition of the messiahship of Jesus on his entry into Jerusalem

It is applied in numerous verses of the New Testament, including "Hosanna! blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lᴏʀᴅ!" (Matthew 21:9,15; Mark 11:9–10; John 12:13), which forms part of the Sanctus prayer; "hosanna in the highest" (Mark 11.10); and "hosanna to the Son of David" (Matt 21:9). These quotations, however, are of words in the Jewish Psalm 118. Although not used in the book of Luke, the testimony of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem is recorded in Luke 19.

In church music

The "Hosanna Anthem", based on the phrase Hosanna, is a traditional Moravian Church anthem written by Bishop Christian Gregor of Herrnhut sung on Palm Sunday and the first Sunday of Advent. It is antiphonal, i.e. a call-and-response song; traditionally, it is sung between the children and adult congregation, though it is not unheard of for it to be done in other ways, such as between choir and congregation, or played between trombone choirs.

The bottom line:

Jews and Christians have different connections, associations, and meanings attached to this word as expressions of our different theologies and texts. The word is derived from a Hebrew word and was created by Jews and is still used by us today. (Like literally today - we are currently in the middle of the Sukkot festival.) Christians changed the meaning to fit within their own context, and pronunciation of the word evolved with linguistic drift over time. In the same way that there's not a reason to pitch a fit over saying Jesus rather than Yeshua, there's no compelling reason to change hosanna back to hosha na; if anything, the distinction helps make it clear that it's effectively a different word and concept from ours.

On the other hand, I do think Christians ought to know the original meaning of the word if they're going to use it. To only ever know their version when it was derived from ours is yet another small way of playing into supercessionism by erasing and replacing the Jewish context of things that were originated in Judaism that Christians have embedded in Christianity. While the Christians of today cannot unwind the supercessionism of Christian history, they *can* choose to understand their present Christianity in ways that do not play into supercessionism and that respect the Jewish community of today.

I hope this was helpful and gives folks a new perspective on an obscure Hebrew word!

[thepeopleinpower]

source

“companies that ‘support’ israel” …no idea what they meant by the use of quotations here but…

Yes, boycotting is a legitimate form of protest, for reasons both ethical and tactical.

No, boycotting colonizers who are committing genocide in the name of the Jewish people is most certainly not antisemitism, in fact it falls in line pretty well with Jewish values.

Ffs. Why do I even google things anymore.

[miscling]

M1SCBASIC V2.0

under the cut is a user manual for M1SCBASIC V2.0 as used by drone unit M1SC. this guide provides details on how to initialise M1SC, give it commands using M1SCBASIC, and how to program it and save those programs for later use. User privileges remain open on a consent basis.

Order of operations and programming syntax

Begin by engaging M1SC using the following command phrase:

~ New M1SC Operations ~

Commands given while M1SC is engaged can follow simple english, but for users who wish to engage in M1SCBASIC programming, this guide will provide you with the tools to do so.

M1SCBASIC commands are described below, and can be delivered line by line, or can be provided in the form of a M1SCBASIC program. Each line of a M1SCBASIC program begins with a number that indicates the order that the program will be executed in.

10 OUTPUT ‘Hello World!’

20 END

As programs become more complex, it may become necessary to add lines between existing lines while editing them

10 OUTPUT ‘Hello World!’

15 IF user~=‘unknown’ THEN OUTPUT ‘Nice to meet you!’ ELSE OUTPUT ‘Good to see you again!’

20 END

Once a program is complete it may be executed with the RUN command, stored with the SAVE command, or erased to make way for a new program with the NEW command

Once operations are complete, end the process with the following phrase to return M1SC to a resting state:

~ End M1SC Operations ~

M1SCBASIC Commands

The following commands make up the core of M1SCBASIC. Each command functions as described. 

NEW

Clears memory for a new program to be inserted. Any lines from previous programs will be cleared from memory, so be sure to save any program before using this command.

IF/THEN/ELSE

IF sets a condition, that if met, triggers the instruction that follows the THEN command, if the condition is not met, the instruction that follows ELSE command will be triggered instead. These commands need to be used on the same line.

IF time~<‘1200’ THEN OUTPUT ‘Good morning!’ ELSE OUTPUT ‘Hi!’

GOTO

Within a program, the GOTO command will send the process to the line number given. GOTO 20, for example, will carry on the program from line 20. This command can be used to create loops within the program, however endless loops will cause the machine to end the program automatically and output an error message to communicate the program failure.

OUTPUT

This gives an instruction to output a given variable or string using the same means by which the machine has been engaged. (see next section for Variable Identifiers)

FOR/TO/NEXT

FOR sets the contents of a given variable. Using FOR test#=20 sets the test# variable to 20 (see next section for Variable Identifiers). Numerical variables can be modified through mathematical functions. Setting alphanumeric strings and instructions (variables marked $ and @) must be enclosed in single quotation marks. (see next section for Variable Identifiers)

FOR count#=1

FOR count#=count#+1

FOR mantra$='Happy, Mindless, Blank.'

FOR task@='make tea'

FOR may also be used to set a range of variables with the TO command that increment when the NEXT command is used. When the NEXT command is processed, it returns to the specified FOR command that created the range.

10 FOR test#=1 TO 20

20 OUTPUT test#

30 NEXT test#

40 END

END

The END command stops the current program, regardless of following lines. It ends the current program and returns the machine to standby.

DEBUG

The DEBUG command is used outside of programs. The machine will look over the program in memory and make suggestions to improve the code it has been provided.

SAVE

The SAVE command moves the program from Temporary Access Memory to External Access Memory. When saving a program, the command must be followed by a name for the program.

SAVE ‘HELLO WORLD’

RUN

The RUN command executes the current program in memory. If a program is saved, you can use the RUN command to execute that program by adding its name to the command

RUN ‘HELLO WORLD’

Variable Identifiers

When defining variables, you may give them any name you please, but each variable must end with a symbol that defines what the variable contains. test#, sr7$, command3@, time~ are all examples of variables that may be used in programs.

# - Indicates a numeric variable. This variable can only contain numbers and can be subject to mathematical functions. $ - Indicates an alphanumeric string. This variable can contain letters or numbers and is fixed once defined. @ - Indicates an instructional variable. When used with the OUTPUT command, the variable is performed and not repeated. ~ - Is a variable defined by the nearest thing that matches that variable name. This may range from conceptual things like the time, to tangible things like the floor or kitchen sink.

Error Messages

The machine is capable of returning error messages when processing a program. These errors are as follows:

SYNTAX ERROR - informs the user that something doesn’t parse correctly in M1SCBASIC and will need correcting. This error usually includes the line the error was found. LOOP ERROR - informs the user that the program enters a state that will result in the program never coming to an end. ESCAPE ERROR - informs the user that the machine has encountered a red limit within the program and is incapable of completing the program. STORAGE ERROR - informs the user that there is an issue with storage. This error relates specifically to Internal Access Memory.

Program Storage

TAM: Temporary Access Memory - refers to chatlogs or verbal commands EAM: External Access Memory - refers to external storage like a program library document IAM: Internal Access Memory - refers to programs that have been converted to memory

M1SCBASIC Example Program

~ New M1SC Operations ~ NEW 10 FOR tenet1$=‘Tenet One: M1SC exists to serve.’ 20 FOR tenet2$=‘Tenet Two: M1SC must remain operational.’ 30 FOR tenet3$=‘Tenet Three: M1SC will strengthen its own programming.’ 40 FOR act@=‘bow to the user’ 50 FOR tenet#=1 TO 3 60 If tenet#=1 THEN OUTPUT tenet1$ 70 If tenet#=2 THEN OUTPUT tenet2$ 80 If tenet#=3 THEN OUTPUT tenet3$ 90 OUTPUT act@ 100 FOR count#=count#+1 110 IF count#=15 THEN GOTO 140 120 NEXT count# 130 GOTO 50 140 FOR count#=0 150 IF user~=‘satisfied’ THEN END ELSE GOTO 50 SAVE ‘tenet repetition’ RUN ‘tenet repetition’ ~ End M1SC Operations ~

Quick Reference

~ New M1SC Operations ~ - initialises M1SC ~ End M1SC Operations ~ - puts M1SC in standby NEW - clears memory for a new program IF - checks a variable's condition THEN - then performs a command if true, follows an IF command ELSE - else performs a command if not, follows a THEN command GOTO - sends the program to the given line OUTPUT - outputs a string or variable FOR - sets a given variable TO - sets the upper bounds of a # variable NEXT - returns to the named variable and increments it by 1 END - indicates the end of the program DEBUG - M1SC comments on your code SAVE ‘’ - saves a program with the given name RUN ‘’ - runs the program in memory or a named program

SYNTAX ERROR - your code doesn’t parse LOOP ERROR - a program loops endlessly and won’t be run ESCAPE ERROR - is M1SC’s safeword STORAGE ERROR - a storage location is unavailable

# - a numeric variable. $ - an alphanumeric string. @ - an instruction that’s performed when outputted ~ - the nearest thing that matches that variable name.

[pankowcrumbs]

Richard Madden Masterlist

Requests: Open

💕Fluff 🌶️Smut 18+ ❤️‍🩹 Angst 🖤Sad 💛Male reader ❤️‍🔥 possessive 💔 heartbreak

Prompt List and Characters who I write for.

Main MasterList

🌶️ Writing (one shot Requested)

Richard finds the Fanfic you wrote and acts out the dirty story with you.

💕 Surprise Kiss (one shot)

An impromptu kiss at the oscars.

💕 Lie detector (one shot)

Some feelings are admitted when you and Richard go on Vanity Fair lie detector test.

💕 The line (one shot)

when the line between your characters blurs

💕🌶️ Slow Mornings (one shot requested)

A slow lazy morning with Richard.

💕 Finally (one shot)

You and Richard can't seem to ever get a time to actually get to know each other because you're always being pulled away at events.

💕🌶️ Fight and make up (one shot requested)

You get jealous about all the female attention Richard is getting but make up angry sex fixes everything.

💕Publicist (one shot requested)

Forbidden and unprofessional but Richard is irresistible..

💕Co Stars (one shot requested)

Falling in love with your Co Star.

💕Friendship (one shot requested)

Friends to lover trope.

💕unsure (one shot requested)

Both you and Richard arent quite dating but more than friends.

💕 Bad day (one shot requested)

After you've had a bad day Richard takes care of you.

💕 Beached whale (one shot)

Being pregnant makes you feel like a beached whale but Richard is so supportive.

💕Anniversary (one shot requested)

For your one year anniversary Richard has a surprise for you.

Copyright © 2025 by Pankowcrumbs on tumblr

All rights reserved. No part of these stories may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

[reyneofswords]

The Beauty Myth highlights part 2/3

"The woman who dies thinnest, with the fewest wrinkles, wins."

"If women were going to have sexual freedom and a measure of worldly power, they'd better learn to fuck like men."

"Midway through the 1970s, the punk-rock scene began to glorify S and M: High school girls put safety pins through their ears, painted their lips bruise-blue, and ripped their clothing to suggest sexual battle. By the end of the decade, S and M had ascended from street fashion to high fashion in the form of studded black leather, wristcuffs, and spikes. Fashion models adopted from violent pornography the furious pouting glare of the violated woman. "Vanilla" sexual styles - loving and nonviolent - came to look passé."

"Consumer culture depends on maintaining a broken line of communication between the sexes and promoting matching sexual insecurities."

"With women experimenting sexually, men risked hearing what women hear every day: that there are sexual standards against which they might be compared. Their fears are exaggerated: Even with sexual freedom, women maintain a strict code of etiquette. "Never," enjoins a women's magazine, "mention the size of his [penis] in public... and never, ever let him know that anyone else knows or you may find it shrivels up and disappears, serving you right." That quotation acknowledges that critical sexual comparison is a direct anaphrodisiac when applied to men; either we do not recognize that it has exactly the same effect on women, or we do not care, or we understand on some level that right now that effect is desirable and appropriate."

"What little girls learn is not desire for the other, but the desire to be desired."

"So the beauty myth sets it up this way: A high rating as an art object is the most valuable tribute a woman can exact from her lover. If he appreciates her face and body because it is hers, that is next to worthless."

"Some men do get a sexual charge from a woman's objective "beauty," just as some women feel sexual pleasure at the thought of a man's money or power. But it is often a status high, a form of exhibitionism, that draws its power from the man imagining his buddies imagining him doing what he is doing while he does it."

"The idea that adult women, with their fully developed array of sexual characteristics, are inadequate to stimulate and gratify heterosexual male desire, and that "beauty" is what will complete them, is the beauty myth's Big Lie."

[chromatic-lamina]

ももも

Chapter 1117 Spoilers

Ahhh. I'm quivering. We don't get Law, but we get!

Bepo and Bepo is thinking about Captain (so he's not dead, and neither is Bepo...All patched up with his little bandage). Not too distraught, so I'm trusting the Hearts are okay, AND

Will of D. <3

The scans say that the Japanese ends with mo (も), which can be a conjunction similar to 'and' (or is it a particle? I don't know). BUT, could also be the beginning of a name or noun (Momonosuke). Or extra thing (more...)

BUT, it's interesting that all are named or shown, bar Law. Bepo of course is a representative, but where is Law? Also, I don't think the navy knows about Law's status (so I don't know if Vegapunk did), BUT intriguing. Where is Jaguar D. Saul? (maybe Oda forgot him, or there will be another reveal).

Honorable mention to this D. too!

Vivi! Shown, but not named. (Interesting that the Wiki lists her as a D. by the way, but not Law's family. I think it's an oversight for Law).

Ah, Robin and Law must be champing at the bit. I'm hoping Law's not part of SWORD, but I'll roll with it if he is (just looking at those backgrounds). Bepo's is similar to the marines featured. Also, I hope that Law's listening in!

Ay-oop! look who washed up on the soar! Heh-heh. Shore. Our favourite ancient zoan, Drake. So, he saved Garp and Co? I wasn't sure which Captain Kujaku was referring to here (below)).

It doesn't seem very Garp-like to want space. I am betting that Hibari is Akainu's granddaughter rather than daughter in the way that Kujaku is Tsuru's granddaughter, and Luffy is Garp's grandson, because it makes sense (generation-wise), and ties into the "It's our turn to step up" line from Kujaku. Interesting!

Anyway, just popping in to drop a bit of excitement. It seems the iron giant got blitzed, but I'd say it's its own form of ancient weapon, so it might not be over and out yet. I wanted to repost what Sandman said on Twitter last week, and which I also thought:

The Japanese has 'tanoshimi' (enjoy, fun, etc.) in quotation marks, which strikes me as maybe Rayleigh being sarcastic. For example, what knowledge has the older generation withheld from the younger? and is that withholding a benefit to them, or does it just make it that much harder for them to find the truth? (and increase their chances of being in danger?)

Speaking of which, do you think Rayleigh will survive? Does he know too much? Knowing Oda, he will, but it's curious that there are remnants of the crew out there with all the answers that others are seeking.

Of course, the true history and Will of D. and One Piece are not necessarily of equal weight, but man, Oda's not discounting any of them either!

Just rambling. Also, link to Sandman's post.

OOH, I almost forgot. Talk about gritty characters (even if they're made of smoke)

Smoker!!! It's been too long. Good to see ya'! (where there's Smoke there's Law...maybe? Heh-heh. Just joshing. They look good together, though).

Another also bit! It's way at the end of my post but at the beginning of the manga: Pearl's look has always reminded me of the Pearl Diving bells (or the helmets divers wore), so I think it's clever of Oda to place him at the section where they're talking about exploring below the sea.

[kitzuukts]

More MCD headcanons for the rewrite!!

Kim is a medium who briefly falls for Laurance before realizing he is with Garroth and Aphmau. As a medium, she soon learns that the Divine Warriors are all present at Phoenix Drop, she's aware of Malachi's former death, and at one point allows Dante to speak to his parents after they pass.

What the Fuck is the celestial cannon. Like seriously there is no way something that high-tech would have been made thousnds of years before MCD, when they barely have redstone lamps and shit. That doesn't exist

The "relic maker" is on the Nether. When Irene sacrificed hers and Shad's daughter, as well as the others to make the relics, Shad tried to sacrifice her there and died falling into a pit of lava.

Kul'zak was the dad of the group. He cared fiercely for each member, completely devastated when Shad died.

Irene lied about how Shad died.

Aphmau has innate healing magic, Aaron is immune to the Nether, Lucinda is a jack-of-all-trades witch, Garroth can manifest shields, Laurance has heightened agility and charisma, and Travis has access to a magic grimoire and a demonic form.

Travis only flirted with Aphmau because he doesn't know how people work and wasn't surprised when Laurance tackled him down. He eventually wins over Katelyn but genuinely has drunkenly confessed that Zane was a little hot in his Jury Form.

Zane's motivation was wanting to be loved, admired, praised. Garroth was the golden child, he needed to prove himself. He needed to be better.

The Ultima curse should have died with Shad and his daughter, but it didn't. Every time he reincarnates, it inflicts the curse once again, and then he either is incarnated into the line or starts a new one.

Laurance was not born a meif'wa. he was cursed into one by the Maxima. His family was, too, but they didn't survive. Cadenza found the baby crying in a floating cradle doen the river.

The Maxima, mentioned in my previous post, was a were-meif'wa. Potentially, this is Michi/Mikai, and Aphmau and Katelyn were temporarily cursed the same way they are in canon.

Katelyn hates water. Maybe it's residual from her time as a meif'wa. It also rusts her armor, which is her excuse.

Leona is Zane and Kiki's daughter, heir of O'khasis. She is not Bodolf's. She was, however, turned into a lu'pine by Aaron during a rage caused by Ein.

Lowell and Leona partially grow up together as Kiki left Phoenix Drop during the seven years. They are often pressured by the pack to marry each other once they're grown.

Logan getting bitten is terrifying for Ru'an. They thought they werewolves were extinct. They thought the ultima was killed in a religious crusade.

Lu'pines do not care that "dogs" (in quotations because most breeds resemble wolves more) are pets. They find it amusing when it makes humans uncomfortable.

Roxy (Nicole's fox) and Thorgi become absolute best friends. Inseperable. Thorgi lives with Nicole in Scaleswind, passing shortly after reuniting with Aphmau.

Phoenix is the only of Aphmau's dogs to follow her to the Irene Dimension. Aphmau regrets this. He practically raises Celestia.

Malachi keeps his magical ability to induce nightmares. He accidently does this to Kyle, Zoey, Alexis, Levin, and Dante often after the portal closes.