#and I should have some free time between working

[troublesomesnitch]

The Devil You Know

Aemond x Septa!Reader - Pt. 2

Little follow-up to this, but hopefully works OK on its own! There might be a third and final part also.

Contents: Book!Aemond, filth and depravity. Coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, medieval fuckboy Aemond. Just the tip...

Words: 3200

Full disclosure - possibly a bit unpolished because I wanted to get it done before S2.

-

You left the grand sept just days after your investiture. 

At noon on the first day of the new month, a royal courier came to fetch you, loading your meagre belongings onto a cart to bring both that and yourself to the castle. To your new home and abode: a chamber with one bed, one table and one little chair, one sconce and one seven-pointed star on the wall. Naturally in the servant’s quarters, but on the highest floor, along with the ladies’ maids, far away from the damp cellars and busy kitchens.

The queen’s household is large, and you are somewhere in the middle of the hierarchy; expected to follow orders, but able to give them, too. You are a septa now, a woman grown, and for the first time in all of your life you have no Mother Superior to answer to, no Septon Alester, and no other girls sharing your bedchamber - which is both a blessing and a curse. It is nice and quiet to be by yourself, free of prying eyes and Sister Sybella’s snoring. But no one pays notice when you slip out at night, and if you run into a maid or steward, they naturally assume that you are headed towards Her Grace or Princess Helaena’s chambers. 

Luckily, Prince Aemond’s rooms are in roughly the same direction. 

When others are near, he is perfectly honourable. Really, his performance is quite impressive. Not too eager, not too distant, perfectly measured when he greets you in the halls, or sits with his mother in her solar. But at night, at night he is different. When the hour grows late and the royal family say their goodnights, he will find a chance to strike, to brush past you and squeeze your wrist, or run his fingers over the small of your back to let you know that he wishes to see you. That he wants you to come to him tonight. 

To his chamber, to his bed, to his arms. 

It is a humiliating plight, and you climb the steps of Maegor’s Holdfast with all the enthusiasm of a convict walking to the scaffold. Weighed down by the guilt of your actions, terrified that someone should know. And resentful, of the prince for making you dishonour your vows, and of the gods for cursing you with beauty - had they made you ugly, Prince Aemond would never have spared you a glance, and you would not be in this predicament. You would not be forced to indulge his lusts and endure the liberties he takes with your body. 

But most of all, worst of all, you feel ashamed. Of all the things you do together, and of the fact that you cannot deny it does sometimes bring you pleasure, too. 

You have permitted him to kiss your mouth, your throat, your chest. Wrapped your hands  around his member and stroked it while he fondled your breasts. Let him lie on top of you and rut against you, still fully clothed, pressing hard between your legs until both of you were sweaty and panting. And once, only once, you let him slip his hand up under your skirts and touch you there, and it felt more wonderful than anything else you have ever experienced. So wonderful that you have not allowed him to do it again, for fear that it should corrupt your soul and spirit. That you will always crave it, the warm press of his fingers, and the way your body suddenly shook and tightened with a pleasure so exquisite you could not help but cry out in ecstasy. 

But he has never had you. Never put any part of himself inside you, never even seen your naked body. It is the strangest thing - there are surely many ladies who would give themselves to him, wholly and fully, yet for some reason, he wants only you.

And he does not waste time with any sort of pleasantries. The joys of night are short, and he can only keep you for so long - you must be back in time to rest, and at the very least before the scullions and kitchen maids rise. You have hardly latched the door before he wraps you in his longing arms, laying you on his bed and parting your legs. The sheets are soft against your back, and his leathers are smooth and cool, and you do not protest when he lays on top of you. You have grown used to the feel of his chest against yours, the heaviness of him, and the hard and lean lines of his body, so different from your own. You have grown used to his kisses too. You like it when he pecks gently at your lips, and when he slides his tongue into your mouth and curls it around your own. When he strokes your body in all sorts of ways, to see what darling little noises he can coax from you this time. 

“Have you ever been touched like this before?” he breathes - a silly question, since he knows the answer well enough already. 

“No,” you whisper. “Never.”

“Say it again,” he commands, closing his eye and breathing in deeply, pressing his nose to your sweet-smelling hair. 

“No other man has ever touched me - only you.” 

It arouses him very much, hearing those words, and he groans softly when he takes your hand and guides it down between your bodies. Knowing what he wants you to do, you hike your skirts up, just enough to run your own fingers along the folds of your womanhood and hold them up for him to taste. Which he does with the most fervent passion, sighing as he licks them clean of any trace of you. He has asked many times to be allowed to taste your sweetness from its source, but you have staunchly refused, appalled at the mere suggestion. He should not press his mouth to such a dirty place. He should not lick something that serves only the body’s most revolting and shameful functions. 

Usually, once he has kissed you like this for a while, and pressed and rubbed against you, he will either reach his end from that alone, or he will make you pleasure him with your hands. But not tonight. 

“Let me feel you,” he pants. “Just this once let me put it inside - ”

“It is a sin,” you gasp, mortified, but nonetheless shivering when he pulls at your sleeve, exposing your shoulder to cover it with kisses. 

“As is this,” he whispers. “And this, and this - ”

His mouth is lovely and warm on your skin, and his teeth are gentle when they scrape along your throat, nibbling softly above your neckline, and biting down hard below it. Making your breathing uneven as you struggle to string your words together. 

“But it is different - you know that it is, please don’t make me do it…”

The prince lifts his head to look at you, propped up on his elbow. 

“It is the movements that are the most sinful part of the act - is it not?” he says, cupping your face and stroking your cheek in the tenderest of ways. When you nod, he adds, “and if I were to not perform them, would that not be a lesser sin?”

His tone is innocent enough, but you know that wicked look in his eyes, the self-assured draw of his mouth. He knows that he is right - it is the movements, not the insertion itself that makes the act of coupling so sinful. And if he showed restraint and did not move in any such manner, then you suppose it would be a lesser sin. Although they did not mention such possible circumventions in your training, naturally. And there are other issues, still. 

“But my maidenhead…” you mutter, looking bashfully to the side when the prince touches his nose to yours. 

“I will be gentle,” he breathes. “I will be so very gentle - my angel, my love - let me at least have you this way… ”

It never really is your choice to make. To be alone with the prince is to balance on a precarious ledge - you can deny him some things, but only so long as you can offer something else that might appease him. And though he never makes overt threats, you are painfully aware that displeasing him could have dire consequences. That he could hurt you in a multitude of ways if he so wished. 

You squirm under his gaze, riddled with so many conflicting emotions; fearful of his intentions, yet blushing at the terms of endearment. Who would not want to hear such lovely words from a prince?

“Just this once,” he whispers, his voice soft and amorous. Just this once…

All you give him is the faintest nod, a slight incline of your head, and his hands are already pushing at your skirts, bunching them up over your parted knees. His breath hitches at the sight of your womanhood, your most intimate parts that you have never bared to him before; wet and inviting, framed by soft curls. Lovelier than he had ever even imagined, that rosy colour of your innermost lips, that little pearl you will not let him touch. And most of all your maidenhead, the delicate tissue that partially covers your entrance, and that he will earnestly try not to damage beyond what is necessary. 

For reasons he could not say, you have quite enchanted him. So much so that he has lavished more patience and tenderness on you than ever before on a woman, and that despite seeing so little return on the investment. For weeks he has contented himself with just your hand and your reluctant kisses, the mere feel of your body beneath him. Many times, he could have taken you by force, and many times he wanted to, yet somehow he could not bring himself to do it, could not bear the thought that you should hate him for it. That your delicate limbs should be hurt in trying to fight him off. 

He has waited long for this, and he does not want to give you time to change your mind, so he only quickly shrugs off his doublet and unbuttons his breeches to free his manhood. Which is painfully hard and in dire need of relief.

It still looks so strange to you, that unholy appendage, with its swollen shaft and its fat, fleshy head. Like the poisonous mushrooms that grow in the Kingswood, though you always keep that thought to yourself - you doubt the prince would appreciate such a childish comparison. He strokes it slowly while his other hand disappears between your legs, brushing over your womanhood and spreading your folds to reveal your little opening. Untried, uncharted by anything or anyone. 

You grit your teeth when the tips of his fingers are replaced by - something else. 

Slowly, steadily, he begins to ease himself inside of you, and you feel your muscles instantly and unwittingly tensing up, startled at the sensation. At the pressure, and at the sound the prince makes when the tip of his member is enveloped by your body, the tight rim of your entrance squeezing its sensitive head. The rest of him will not fit, but he spits into his palm and strokes it along his shaft, and that makes things glide a little better, as do your slow, deliberate breaths. 

It hurts, it really does, only not in the way you expected. You do not so much feel like anything is being torn or ripped - rather, you feel stretched, forcibly split apart and opened far beyond what should be possible. Your insides burn from it, and you wince with pain when he adjusts his position, spreading your thighs wider and driving his hips forward. Pressing in until he is fully seated. 

And he moans from how perfect you feel around him. So soft, so tight. His seeing eye closes and his breathing is hoarse, strained from how badly he needs to move, needs to thrust; his arms trembling by the sides of your head as he struggles to hold himself still. It is a bizarre thing to do, you think, just laying together like this, one on top of the other, completely motionless. Your legs raised over his hips, his chin resting against your forehead. His manhood swelling within you, throbbing with need. You can only hope it means that he will finish quickly and release you from this chore, from the searing pain that scorches your core, and the feeling of being so trapped, so tethered. Much like one of the many-legged creatures on Princess Helaena’s wall; splayed out and nailed down, held in place by a foreign object piercing your body. 

But the prince likes it. You have never heard such heavy sighs from him as just now, never seen such utter bliss on his face. His forehead is damp with sweat, his brows drawn together, his upper lip subtly twitching. One of his hands trails up the back of your naked thigh, lifting your leg to curl it around his back, and he moans from that too, as the slight shift gives him a brief feeling of movement. It is not at all comfortable for you, but you are distracted when he seeks your lips, claiming your mouth with slow, deep kisses. His tongue rolls over yours, pulling back to lick along your lip before plunging into your mouth again, over and over, in a strangely repetitive way. A rhythmic way. As if he is making love to your mouth, since he cannot make love to your body. 

It feels lovely, so lovely that it makes your insides twitch. Which in turn makes the prince curse, and a violent shudder run through his body. 

“Do it again,” he moans, and like always you do your best to please him. Clenching your muscles, squeezing tight around him, then releasing again. Very slowly, and each time feeling his breathy gasp against your face, and the thrum of a heartbeat inside of you - whether his or yours, you cannot say. It is painful with your already sore muscles, and it must be a poor excuse for what it is supposed to mimic, but it is still better than nothing, judging by how the prince moans. How he bites his lip and furrows his brow as your insides twitch and contract, so tight and slick and warm. 

How strange to think that now you have become one. Now you are as close as two people can ever be. Closer still when the prince slithers his arm underneath your body, pressing you hard against him and cradling your head. Your fingers are clenched in the damp material of his shirt, and he unfurls them gently to wrap your arms around his neck, around his shoulders; wanting you to hold him, to embrace him as a woman should her lover. 

It makes your discomfort somewhat more bearable, having something to cling and anchor yourself to. The closeness, and the intimacy of it, how his face is right above yours, your noses touching and breaths mingling. He drags his mouth against your own, from side to side, his lips brushing over yours, then over the rest of your face; your chin, your cheekbones, your temples. So, so gently, and like often before, you are stunned that he can be both so cruel and so tender with you. So selfish, and so soft. 

He has had countless chances to force himself on you, yet he never did. Even now he is keeping his promise, holding back, fighting hard to not succumb to that most powerful and natural instinct of a man, this urge to thrust, to copulate. You can feel that he is shivering with the force of his need, gritting his teeth, unable to keep completely still - there is a gentle, almost imperceptible swaying of his body that he cannot help, an impossibly slow rocking with each of his ragged breaths. 

He really is beautiful, you think, with his striking eyes and thick, silvery hair; pink lips parted in a breathy sigh. You could not say what possessed you to be so bold, but you find yourself reaching up to place a wet, lingering kiss underneath his jaw, right on top of the constellation of freckles that adorns his neck, swiping your tongue across it and tasting the sweat of his skin. To an almost immediate effect - at the feeling of your timid caresses, the prince curses loudly, clenching his fingers in the sheets, arching his back - 

“No!” you exclaim, “not inside me, not inside - ”

But it is too late; he has already shuddered once, and his manhood is already pulsing and spurting when he manages to withdraw from you. So stiff that it flops up against his stomach, a grotesque thing to look upon, the way it just hangs there, squirting out semen as he groans and gasps. At the very end of his rapture he grasps it with one hand, stroking it hard all the way from the base to the tip, as though wanting to squeeze out every last bit of fluid. And once he is spent, he rolls off of you and onto his back, completely unceremoniously. Leaving you raw and hurting inside, and with the sticky feeling of his semen trickling out between your thighs. 

“If it catches,” you whisper, afraid to even speak the words. “If I should be with child…”

The prince runs a hand over his face, panting and still too lightheaded to be thinking clearly, because he stupidly tells you that needn’t worry, he will have a tea brought to you -

“No! please no,” you shriek, panicked. “They would know I broke my vows - ”

“Then I will bring it myself,” he snaps, but rather than reassure you, his harsh tone only makes you tear up.

At the sigh of your quivering mouth, his face softens, and he reaches out to pull you into his arms, hold you against his chest, stroke your hair and rock you gently. Say forgive me, forgive me, I quite forgot myself, you mustn’t cry, my love -

“Why must you torment me,” you sob. “Sooner or later someone will know, they will shame me and ruin me - “

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. “I would not let them - I will cut off any hand that hurts you - “

You press your ear to his chest to drown out the sound of his voice, for he has said these same words many times before, and with the same fervour and poignancy. He adores you, he reveres you, he will cut off any hand that hurts you, any eye that ogles you, any tongue that slanders your name. 

You haven’t the courage to tell him - the only hand that hurts you is his own. 

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @ladythornofrivia, @blackswxnn, @hightpwer, @toodlesxcuddles, @arcielee

@targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost

And thank you @aemondsbabygirl for being a great one-woman focus group!

[chukys-mouthguard]

Kinda Tempting pt. 3

Word count: 3.7k

Featuring: mat barzal x female reader x matt rempe

Warnings: this gets a bit angsty (sorry to my rempe gang)

Note: I thinkkk I have an idea of where I want this to go, but hopefully you all like this part? Please feel free to send me some feedback because i love hearing your thoughts!!

What were you doing?

You’d told Mat that you needed some time to think about his proposal, asking if he’d be okay with you heading home to sleep on it. He of course agreed, understand it was a lot to take in and think about. Not wanting to pressure you into saying something right then and there.

But here you were, at Matthew Rempe’s apartment.

“Well hey there sunshine!”

Matthew’s signature dorky grin plastered on his face as you stood in his doorway, a not so excited look on your face.

“Shit, is everything okay?”

He took your hand and pulled you into his apartment, wrapping you in a hug. Not knowing what was wrong, just sensing you needed it. The second you felt his arms around you the tears immediately started flowing.

All the emotions overwhelming you as you’d finally felt comfortable enough to just let yourself feel something.

“Hey, hey hey. Talk to me y/n. What’s going on?”

Matthew tried to calm you down, to settle your breathing as he pulled you over to sit on the couch. He wiped away your tears as he waited for you to finally tell him what had you so worked up.

“Did the date not go well?”

“No, it, well not at first. But-“

Matthew’s gaze fell to the floor as he knew in his heart these were tears of sadness, not because you and Mat were back on good terms. But instead because you’d come to end whatever fun you two briefly had. You didn’t have to say a word, your body language saying it all.

“You guys are back on good terms?”

Simply nodding, not able to formulate a word let alone a sentence as your mind was still focusing on the hardest part you had to tell Matthew. He smiled at you as he took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m happy for you, honest. And I-“

“That’s not everything…”

He looked to you concerned as you nervously picked at your fingers, the words so difficult to say you as you two sat in silence for what felt like forever.

“He, he asked me to marry him.”

Matthew’s jaw practically on the floor, his knuckles clenching as he stood up. Pacing the floor he tried to figure out what to say. While he wanted to be happy for you, it hurt his heart knowing that he’s opportunity to have anything with you had just gone out the window.

“And you said yes?”

He stared at you as you shook your head. “I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I told him I needed time. It was so sudden, and after everything that’s been going on. I couldn’t give him an answer that I wasn’t 100% sure about.”

Matt nodded as he sat back down, this time leaving a bit of space between the two of you. Which you’d noticed and didn’t appreciate, still confused and feeling like you needed his comfort.

“Well, do you, do you want to marry him?”

“Fuck Matthew I don’t know!”

You didn’t mean to shout, it sort of just coming out as you ran a hand through your hair. “I don’t know what I want. Just yesterday I was so sure my relationship was going to shit that I cheated on Mat with you. Then today, the date starts awful, we get into an argument, we fuck, and then he’s proposing to me. I just-I have no fucking clue what I want.”

He watched you going through all the emotions, unsure as to what he should say or do. Things seeming different now that he didn’t feel like he could comfort you the same way he would’ve yesterday. He kept his hands to himself, mostly just responding verbally rather than physically. Though he hated feeling like he had to be that way. He wanted so badly to hold you, to kiss you, tell you it was all going to be okay.

Controlling his feelings he’d just let you be. Knowing that the last you needed was him to over complicate things even further.

But after the shit you’d be through with Mat, all of that was just wiped away now because he proposed? You were just supposed to forget how shitty you’d felt for months? He wanted to be respectful, but he could see how torn you were. How much you wanted to know the answer but no one could give you that except yourself.

“I wish I could tell you what to do,” he slightly chuckled as he took your hand, “but unfortunately this is something you have to figure out.”

Nodding at him you tried your best to calm down, not let your thoughts run rampant as you took a deep breath. “I wish I could have it both ways.”

You joked with a laugh, wiping your tears as Matthew shook his head. “And as much as I’d love that, it’s a bit different if you’re engaged.”

“I mean, it’s still cheating if I’m engaged or not.” You playfully argued back, making Matt shrug. “I don’t know, engagement makes things seem more serious, a bit more difficult to call off. So, I just think it’s different, I don't know.”

The two of you sat in silence as you’d finally calmed down. Letting out a sigh as you glanced at Matthew, sitting on his phone.

“Do you not like me now?”

He quickly looked up at you, raising an eyebrow as he immediately shook his head. “Not a chance I’d stop liking you just because he proposed. Plus, you didn’t technically say yes yet.” He shot you a wink before he headed off to his bedroom to change.

“So you still think you’ve got a chance with me then huh?”

Playfully questioning as you’d followed behind him, leaning against the wall in the hallway while he pulled on some sweats then joined you back out in the kitchen.

“I mean, I’m always going to think I have a chance with you. I could sense it just from the connection we have. But, I can respect if you choose to get married to him that I’d need to back off. Can’t say I’d be happy about it, but I’d respect it.”

He grabbed you a beer from the fridge, cracking it open before he slid it across the counter into your hand.

“I just, I’ve got a lot to think about. I mean, if you would’ve asked me a year ago, I would’ve told you hands down this was the man I was going to marry.”

“But?” His voice trailing off as he brought his beer to his lips.

“But, I don’t know. I still love him, and I think I want to marry him. He says he’s going to be better. Try harder. So I guess I’d need to see that before I can really say yes.”

Matt hummed in agreement as you nervously tapped the beer bottle, he smirked at the action as you continue on with your nervous thoughts. Matt just listening to you and letting you speak everything out that was in your mind.

Looking at the time, you realized it was late and there was no way Matt was letting you head home. He offered up his bed for you and he’d take the couch, but he soon regretted that as he looked like a giant sleeping on a toddler bed. Within minutes appearing in the doorway with his pillow, making you chuckle as you laid in his king sized bed comfortably.

“If you feel uncomfortable, I can suck it up and sleep out there. I really don’t want to do anything that you’re not okay with.”

Rolling your eyes you pulled the covers back, not the type to deny a grown man out of his own bed.

Turning on your side you pulled the pillow close and tried your best to get some sleep. Knowing you needed it.

“Y/n?”

Matthew’s voice soft behind you as he lay staring at the ceiling. Humming a response you signaled for him to continue.

“I, I don’t want my feelings or my opinion to cloud your decision making. I truly want nothing more than you to be happy. And if that’s with him, then I will be your biggest supporter through and through. But please don’t say no just because of anything I might say. You need to make this decision solely for yourself and with your heart.”

His words tugging at your heartstrings as you smiled against the pillow. Matthew not requiring a response as he rolled over himself, whispering a quick good night before he’d drifted off to sleep.

But by the morning, you’d be gone.

Waking up in the middle of the night, something in you didn’t feel right being in Matthew’s bed. Grabbing your clothes, you’d quickly changed before heading out the door.

Matthew hadn’t heard from you in weeks, maybe the occasional text when he’d reach out, but even around the rink he hadn’t seen much of you. Assuming you were just taking your time to think things through, him keeping his distance not wanting to overstep or cause any additional stress.

He and the boys were warming up with the soccer ball, the typical routine on game days when Matt saw you heading in their direction. He smiled, missing seeing your face as you’d been MIA as far as he was concerned.

“There she is! The future Mrs. Barzal!”

Matt snapped from his thoughts as he heard Vinny Trochek calling out to you. His heart sinking the lowest it ever could as you shyly smiled, thanking the guys for their congratulatory words as they asked to see your ring.

“Sheeeesh, the Islanders must pay him good. You bagged a good one y/n.”

Looking up from the ring on your finger your eyes immediately locking with Matt’s. The smile on your face gone as you saw the pain in his. Mouthing a quick I’m sorry before you had to head off and film a few things for pregame.

Despite his efforts to block the image of you with a ring on your finger out of his head, Matt couldn’t shake it. He said he’d be happy for you, and he was. But the last thing he expected when seeing you for the first time in weeks, was that Mat had won. That you’d actually said yes.

Matt wasn’t one to get tons of ice time, but tonight his shifts were slim, even for him. The coaches sensed he wasn’t himself, not risking putting him out there if he wasn’t one hundred percent.

“Rempe!”

Quickly looking at the assistant coach over his shoulder, he waited for further instruction.

“I don’t know what’s up your ass tonight, but we need you to get the energy back. Go out there and do your job.”

Matt shook his head, taking a deep breath before climbing over the boards. He knew the last thing he needed right now was to fight someone, especially not being entirely focused. But he couldn’t tell the coaches no. Sucking it up he skated up to the face off, signaling to the other team’s enforcer that he was dropping the gloves once the puck was in play.

Watching from your usual spot along the glass, you saw the look on Matt’s face, not wanting to watch things play out. But, your job required you to watch and film every second of it.

With the first swing it was clear Matt’s head wasn’t in it. He was shaky, punches not landing. Taking blow after blow, not able to dodge anything. It didn’t take long for him to take a punch square on the jaw, crumbling to the ice as he was dazed.

“Fuck…”

Sighing to yourself you’d stopped recording, wanting to run and check on him, though you knew he didn’t want to see you right now. This was your fault, and it was a shitty feeling.

The game had ended, the Rangers losing in embarrassing fashion. Sorting through content and editing after games like these was even harder. Having to relive everything all over again.

Closing your laptop you’d decided it was time to head home. Noticing several of the guys making their way to the parking garage, you’d slowed your pace, hoping to run into Matt.

As he emerged from the locker room, his eye already bruised and swollen, your heart sank.

“Matt…”

He barely looked at you, adjusting his backpack over his shoulders as he stopped in his tracks. Looking to the ground as you attempted to bring a hand to his cheek, which he quickly turned down.

“I’m fine, just wasn’t my best night.”

“Bullshit, I know you didn’t want to go out and fight that guy. This is my fault.”

“Y/n stop it, not everything has to be your fault okay? I just had an off night, can’t go out there and win every fight I get into.”

His voice stern as he spoke, this side of Matt not one you were used to. Shaking your head you refused to believe he just had an off night.

“Well I’m sorry, okay?”

“For what?”

Your gaze falling to the ring on your finger, Matt annoyingly sighed as he started to walk away from you.

“Matt, wait!”

“What do you want me to say! You want to say you’re right? You want me to say that it’s your fault I got my ass handed to me? Okay fine! Seeing you show up with a fucking ring on your finger broke me y/n. Hearing the guys call you the future Mrs. Barzal. I mean for fucks sake you didn’t even tell me! Do you understand how hurtful that is? I get it, it was never going to be me. It was always him. But I at least thought you cared enough to tell me what your final decision was. So yeah, sure, it was your fault tonight. Happy?”

Tears streaming down your face as he finally finished yelling. And it hurt, knowing you’d hurt him so bad. Knowing that you’d toyed with his emotions that night you’d hooked up with him, only to turn around and go right back to the man you convinced him you were walking away from. Whether you intentionally convinced him of that or not, it was clear deep down he’d thought you were.

“Congratulations y/n. I’m really fucking happy for you.”

Trying to formulate some type of response, you’d failed as your words caught in your throat. Matt walked away from you without another glance.

Quickly you wiped your tears, hoping none of the guys would be walking by and notice. Giving yourself a minute before you headed out to your car.

Once inside, you called Mat, knowing he’d had a game but it should be long over by now.

“Oh hello Mrs. Barzal.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Mat’s words, trying you best to prepare your voice to not let him know you’d been crying.

“Soon to be Mrs, not there yet babe.”

He laughed as you heard him getting into his car. “Well I’m impatient I guess. How was your night?”

“We lost…and, it was a rough night all around. But, the guys were really nice, they said congratulations.” “Yeah? That’s really nice of them! Sucks they lost, but I’m happy to know they said something. I got texts from a couple of them when I checked my phone after the game. Makes me happy to know they treat you well over there.”

“Yeah…they’re, a great group of guys.”

Mat instantly noticed the change of tone in your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just, I’m overwhelmed at guess. By the support of everyone, by how excited I am to marry you, by the amount of work I still have to do as far as editing goes.” The two of you laughing as you both were now well on your ways home.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s definitely a lot. I’m feeling it a bit too. Although, my work day is now over compared to yours.” His voice trailed off, the sound of his turn signal the only thing filling the silence.

“How about I come over? I can sit with you while you edit. Maybe help you feel less overwhelmed with things?”

“No Mat, you don’t have to. It’s late, you just played a game. Honest it’s-“ “Too late, I already took the exit. I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes baby girl!”

Shaking your head you simply accepted his offer, having no choice considering he was already on his way. But happy to see him making the effort. Mat from a few months ago would’ve never offered. And it made you hopeful that you were making the right decision.

“Okay, I know I don’t have to tell you, but you’re really good at your job babe. Like seeing how you can just edit this stuff like it’s nothing. I’m blown away.”

You smiled over your shoulder at Mat, thanking him as he sat behind you while you were editing the game's footage. Needing to finish a few more clips to be ready to post the content.

“Ouch, that’s Rempe’s fight from tonight?” Shit…he doesn’t look like he was even ready. What the hell happened?”

You shrugged as you tried clipping some of the footage for your game summary video, not having much to choose from that didn’t show Matt getting his ass kicked.

“He said he had a really off night. He didn’t seem like himself from the moment I got there. I’m not sure what was wrong.”

You tried to end the conversation and hope Mat didn’t continue to talk about him, not wanting to think about the things he’d said to you earlier.

“That’s too bad, he’s been doing pretty well so far this season.”

Mat slightly leaning you forward as he got up and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a water from the fridge as you decided your video was as good as it was gonna get. Closing your laptop with a yawn, checking the time and desperately wanting to go lay down.

“He actually sent me a pretty nice text earlier too.”

“Who?”

Your eyes wide as Mat followed you to the bedroom, watching as you removed the throw pillows and drew the covers back.

“Rempe. I assume he got my number from one of the guys. Though it was a little weird since he and I never really officially met. But, maybe he felt like since you two were so close it wasn’t a big deal?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I’d say we are so close. But I get what you mean. What did he say? You said it was pretty nice?”

Mat pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling to find the text.

“I mean, for not really knowing the guy, yeah I thought so….Hey Mat, it’s Matt Rempe. I know we haven’t really met, but I feel like I’ve gotten to know you through y/n. I heard the news tonight that you two are engaged, and I wanted to say congratulations. I saw how happy she was when the guys called her the future Mrs. Barzal, and it’s clear she’s the happiest girl in the world right now. You really do make her feel that way. And I hope you know how much she loves you and cares for you. I’m happy to see her happy, and I wish you two nothing but the best.”

“Wow…that is really nice. He said something to me, but I didn’t know he’d texted you too.”

Mat shrugged as he climbed into bed, holding a hand out for you to join him. “Yeah, I mean, plenty of guys I don’t really talk to texted me today. I feel like word traveled and people just like being happy for other people. You know?”

You smiled down at him, nodding as you looked to your bedside, “oh crap I forgot my phone. It’s gonna be dead by the morning if I don't charge it.” Mat playfully pouting as you pulled away from his grip. “Oh just hang on you big baby, I’ll be back in ten seconds!”

Quickly tiptoeing down the hall, you spotted your phone on the coffee table. Checking to see if you’d gotten any texts from Matt, not expecting him to say anything after he blew up on you. But wishful thinking…

“Ten seconds babe? Really?”

Mat laughed from the bed as you told him just a second, needing to turn off the lights you two had left on. Before returning to the bedroom you typed a text to Matt, hoping he was at least awake to read it.

But just as quickly as you’d hit send, a red exclamation mark appearing to warn you your text was not delivered. Trying again won you the same result. Thinking perhaps it was a fluke, you hit the call button as you made your rounds to shut off all the lights. But sure enough, your suspicions had been confirmed. Matt had blocked your number.

Trying not to show your annoyance, you plugged your phone in and curled up next to Mat. Doing your best to act like everything was normal.

“Closed up shop all right?”

Nuzzling into his embrace you hummed a response. “Good. So, I didn’t get to ask you a wedding question today.” Playfully you groaned as Mat laughed, “oh come on! You love the wedding questions!”

He wasn’t wrong, you did love thinking about the wedding and answering his random questions. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Colors, what are you thinking?”

“Mmm. Obviously New York Islanders blue and orange.”

Mat rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist, flipping over to be on top of your as he playfully peppered you with kisses.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“I thought you’d like that one.”

“I don’t care what we wear, as long as you’re my wife at the end of it.”

His fingers intertwined with yours as he kissed your lips, then moving back to your side as he filled the role of big spoon perfectly. The days events seeming meaningless now, the whirlwind of emotions subsided, as nothing could ruin the way you felt in this moment. Exactly where you were meant to be.

[silverzoomies]

Ok so I've been a fan of Evan since days of future past came out. Like, the day it came out. I saw the premier or whatever it's called in theaters so DUH I LOVE QUICKSILVER SO MUCH 😞😞 anyways I know you're not taking requests but like I'm a little bit chubby (this is relevant I swear) and I CANNOT stop thinking about Peter and reader! being in a serious long term relationship, but they haven't gone all the way yet. Like, heavy make out session? Yes! Peter getting painfully hard during said make out session? Check. Make out session turns into peters desperately grinding, letting out the neediest little whines. Absolutely. Him definitely busting in his pants at readers! breathless little moans? Every. Single. Time. Never all the way though. He desperately wants to bone but he's willing to wait as long as he wants to because he thinks reader! doesn't want to, but they're just as desperate as he is but scared of what he would think because they're chubby. During one of their heated.. laundry day inducing make out sessions one thing leads to another and reader! ends up telling Peter why they haven't wanted to go all the way, and Peter proves to them he doesn't think that [;)] and talks reader! through it the whole time.

YOU DONT HAVE TO ADD THIS TO YOUR REQUESTS OR TURN IT INTO A FIC IF YOU DONT WANT TO. I just had to share this with somebody and OBVIOUSLY because you're one of my favorite writers I had to come to you with this (hi I've sent u a lot of messages 🎀) and since you're another huge quickie fan I thought you'd enjoy this :3 SORRY IF THIS WAS SUPER LONG OR IF IT DIDNT MAKE SENSE I'm mad at typing sometimes smh

helllooooooo anon, my lovely !!! i love you so much !! forgive me, i haven't written in a while !! i tried my best to make somethin' out of this because it was such a cute idea !! i hope a headcanon list will suffice !! also, please don't ever apologize for sending me long asks. i'm not kidding when i say they make my day, i love them so much !!

headcanons || peter maximoff x chubby!reader

to preface, i think we should consider some key things about our speedy goofball

peter’s a mutant. he knows exactly what it feels like to be alienated for something he has no control over

second of all, the guy’s a little bit of a weirdo

i legitimately doubt he would judge, or think less of anyone for something as superficial as looks

seriously. If he vibes with you, and you’re patient enough with him - you’re sexy as hell

it’s as simple as that, sorry. just bein' honest

so what if you’re a little thicker? he can’t get enough of you

he’s so addicted to you, in fact, you’ve got him trippin’ a little bit

like, he’s kinda goin’ cuckoo

the two of you make out a lot. so much. it’s like you’re glued to one another. any free time you have together usually consists of hanging out, and making out. not that he’s complaining

it’s definitely awesome. and it feels totally great. he does this freaky thing with his tongue that makes you squirm under him every time 

and the way you whine into each smooch - oh, man - you have him longing to get even closer

make outs eventually turn to dry humping. it’s kind of humiliating the first few times...

...since the grinding always seems to end with him busting a load in his jeans. and he whimpers too much...jeez...

but you always praise him for it, which never fails to turn him on even more

things get so heated between the two of you, escalating so often - peter finds himself confused

like…why haven’t you let him…y’know…

once or twice, he hints he wants to go down on you. and there’s no way you misread his signals. he’s pretty blunt about his needs

but you’re always so reluctant. you feign ignorance, or try to distract him with more intense kisses and pretty moans

peter’s never been a patient guy. the fact that he’s willing to wait this long for you says a lot. like, shit…he must really really really like you

but even now…fuck…he’s so worked up. he’s getting a little too bored of being limited to smooching

like, c’mon…do you think he’s ugly or something?? does he smell?? what’s the deal??

he never considered you might be self conscious. his brain doesn’t really operate like that. he’s all impulsivity and living in the moment

in the midst of making out, his hands travel where they don’t usually dare to go. he takes confident chances, fondling your tits over your clothes. but just as things heat up, you redirect his attention again

his blood almost boils. he’s way too hard for this, aching to get closer, and you’re just…gah! why’re you holdin’ yourself back? 

at last, you confess…you’ve been self conscious the whole time

ah

why didn’t you just say somethin’ before? peter tries not to laugh at how silly you sound. obviously, he’s super attracted to you. why else would he spend all his free time with you, tryna get up close and personal?

as things finally move forward, he dials up the sweetness a few notches

and damn, the wait for this was more than worth the uptick in laundry days (thanks to one too many nuts busted in his boxers)

he covers every last inch of your gorgeous body in kisses, as you let him shed you of your clothes

his masculine hands are more gentle than you expect

unclothed together, he doesn’t hesitate to get as close as he possibly can

you’re soft and cozy, and his body is like a furnace

months of pent-up desire leave him so horny, he can’t hold back anymore

through it all, he’s quick to remind you how much of a fox you are. peter teases you with his tongue in ways you never imagined possible. before rocking your world, flowing with the motion of the ocean

and by that, i mean…you bone. balls deep. hellz to the yeah

embarrassingly enough, it ends just as soon as it starts. but as usual, he recovers fast. and his endless stamina means he’s willing to go at it for hours

which he does. until you’re so exhausted, your limbs are like limp noodles. whoops...sorry about that !!

say...uh...no chance you'd wanna go another round, is there?

peter hopes you’ll be more up front with him from now on. so he spends less time dreamin', and more time goin' at it 🤍

[acerathia]

Fics For Gaza

hello!! I finally got some time to participate in the initiative made by @ficsforgaza ! Down below are some WIP's which I have planned in some capacity to write during the summer/until the end of the year. I will also be accepting some requests for a limited amount of time, and for this one, please shoot me a message first beforehand.

How it works: The rate is set at 1$ per 100 words. The donation should go directly to a verified fundraiser and just send me the confirmation (personal information should be removed/censored) as proof with the link to the fundraiser and the fic sponsored as an ask. The wordcount (donated and writing status) will be updated regularly under the WIP's. As for the requests, send me an ask/dm first to discuss the content of it! For both I will try to be consistent and on time, but as there will be times where day to day life will get the best of me, but I will update accordingly also. Of course, consider looking at the list of other writers working on this initiative!!

current WIP's:

~your sweet return: gojo satoru synopsis: You love the forest, it was the place where you escape from everything haunting you. So, what could even happen if you discover a fairy circle, one oh so daunting, and you begin to hold a conversation with your invisible companion?

estimated wordcount: 8k written: 0.1k donated: 0.5k/3k progress: 0.1k/0.5k

---

~eclipse: xiao synopsis: The souls filled with karma find relief under the touch of your skin. Yet, you've never tried to cleanse anyone, not since you've gained your freedom. Until the one you're indebted to asks you to help a certain Adeptus. And who are you to refuse?

estimated wordcount: 3k written: 0.5k donated: 0/1.5k progress: 0/0

---

~Surviving the Tyrant: todoroki touya synopsis: Waking up in your favourite novel would be such a fantastic experience. That's what you thought until you actually woke up in one and found yourself engaged to the tyrannical prince Todoroki Touya. Your death was to be by his hands, and you are going to do anything to avoid such a fate.

estimated wordcount: 10k written: 0 donated: 0/4k progress: 0/0

---

~The Lament of Erebus: Midoriya-centric synopsis: They appeared in the dead of night, ripping people out of their homes and lives, only leaving scattered clothes fluttering in the wind. There was nothing else left of the missing people. OR Midoriya Izuku is quirkless, despite his protests, despite the feeling churning in his insides. It seems like fate has a cruel way to show its affection, as this lead to a social death sentence. And he has lived like that all his life. That is until society began to shift, creatures of the night swallowing people residing in the dark. The question is, what is the connection between them and Izuku?

estimated wordcount: ? written: 6.2k donated: 0/2k progress: 0/0

---

~Back against the Wall: Meta-Analysis for ORV using the reader-insert synopsis: What kind of effect might you (you and you and you) have on the way the plot unfolds? Can your voice (overlapping, echoing, not truly yours, but it is) be heard in the scheme of grander things?

estimated wordcount: ? written: 4.3k donated: 0/2k progess: 0/0

---------

requests:

Once again, before anything, contact me to make sure that I'm able to write the possible request. The rate is the same, and I'm going to tell you how long the request might be based on my own estimations. Please be aware that these requests are limited, both time-wise and quantity-wise, and that I might refuse any request based on my own abilities and comfort.

what fandoms: MHA, HSR, Genshin, Naruto, Touchstarved, Obscura, JJK, Love and Deepspace, ORV, AoT, and some others, feel free to ask!

[opinated-user]

its small in the grand scheme of things but wow, Lily's new puppet looks so off.

it looks like the knock off baby between Friday Night Funkin

and Rayman.

i know that the idea was probably chibify the style of Zero Punctuation's avatars, but it doesn't really work as an attractive image that would encourage me to click on any video.

the default expression is the pupils looking to a side or another with half lid down and it looks like she's perpetually bored and fighting off sleep. if you're talking about something that was boring and almost made you want to sleep, you can do that, of course, but as a default? why would you want that? why would you let that expression be the first thing anyone sees whenever they find your content? i have seen some people calling it smug, but that is a high compliment i don't think it deserves. that is not smug. that is the face of someone that stopped caring about what they do a long time ago. the hands being fixated animated pieces without fingers do not help to convey much body language to make it more interesting. oh, she has her pupils looking to a side and a hand on her head... i guess she's confused? she has other expression with the pupils big, eyes wide, that do convey amezement or delight, but that is the only thing i see and even then it's just the eyes. not to menton, the point where the feathered earring starts will always annoy me because if those are supposed to be earrings, then the ears of that avatar are way over the point they should be on any human proportion. (sidenote: was anyone always bothered because the feathers look pissed on? why are they so dirty?) they don't even look like feathers or... anything really. if you told me those were insect wings i could believe you because the lines on the center remind me of that already. more than that... i was checking the rest of LO's channel and she must have really hated the previous avatar that MO made because she went back and made new thumbnails for videos before this new avatar was ever made. do you know which avatar is the last one that appears on the thumbnail of any video? the one Lizzy made.

(remarking the date in red because i need you all to understand that LO went this far back on her work just to change the thumbnail to pretend like she had this avatar even back then... i don't know if this is gaslighting or what, but it feels like it)

all other videos are with the scroll thingy she used to put the title of the video. the old avatar was completely scrapped from the surface. if you weren't there watching her videos and following closely, you would have no idea that other avatar ever existed. just think about that for a moment. imagine being MO and spending hours upon hours to do this one thing, completely for free, for the woman you love, enduring her nagging about how the waist needs to be thinner, only for that woman stop using it entirely on any visible place and replace it with something else that, until i'm shown proof of the contrary, is most certainly also for free.

i don't think this avatar is going to last much either.

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 15 - Mechanics Reworks

Hello cosmonauts! It’s been a minute.

So we finally finished Chariots of Steel and were all eager to turn development time over to Torchship when I got covid. I was too sick to do anything for a week, and then have spent the time since exhausted, coughing, and headache-y. I’m still coughing. What a cool sickness to have!

Because of that, I really haven’t made the progress I was hoping to, but I do have some things to talk about from the current draft of the game. So here goes…

Unity Rewrite

One of the problems revealed by last year’s Metatopia playtest was that players didn’t really have a good idea of how important Unity was supposed to be, because it was a simple uncapped resource. Like any such resource, either they ignored it, or it activated the player’s hoarding instincts and they stockpiled it and dedicated themselves to whatever roleplay triggers would get more without ever spending it. 

Uh, oops, should have seen that coming.

So one of the biggest changes in the current drafts is that Unity has gone from being a pool of resources to being a bar you try to keep topped up, like so:

So long as you stay in the green ‘United’ range of 10-12, you have a free 1d6 reroll on all your dice pools. While not a hugely powerful buff, it’s a passive benefit that helps no matter what you’re doing, so you always want it if you can. There’s no benefit or drawback to being at Functional, but Tense and Fracturing hit you with escalating penalties.

This tells players when they need to be looking to form or act on relationships for the Unity benefits. Your Unity falling (through complications on rolls, stress in combat, or relationship complications) acts as an invitation to groups to get more involved, to declare relationships with each other and the various sides of a debate, and possibly act irrationally on them. 

This incentive structure also heightens the political metaphor of the relationship system and the way it will affect your interaction with groups. When things are fraying in your in-group, the fastest way to rebuild cohesion is to find an out-group, to stop being impartial and take sides. As circumstances change, you might find yourself dealing with the sunk-cost fallacy of having backed a horse you no longer believe in, faced with the reality of risking your group’s Unity to make the right choice, and the potential danger of swinging too far the other way as you try to rebuild cohesion.

Damage Rework - Conditions

Another massive change in the Alpha is a totally reworked system for damage, creating a single universal framework for everything from personal injury to wear and tear on tools to massive impact on spacecraft.

When something is damaged, that damage gets converted by the GM into Conditions. A Condition consists of a narrative description and a severity between 1-6; the severity determines the degree of penalty taken when the narrative of the condition becomes relevant (with 6 Damage indicating something has been destroyed outright and can’t be used). Damage is converted to Severity 1-1, so if you take more than 6 damage, multiple Conditions will arise.

This system can be used for anything, and focuses on creating problems that you have to work around and solve (you know the thing this kind of sci-fi is all about). If you get shot in the arm, having to figure out how to do things one-handed to avoid the penalty becomes an interesting problem you have to navigate around. If you drop your scanner down an elevator shaft by accident, you have to navigate your adventure with 1 Disadvantage on your sensor checks because of a cracked lens. And when 24 points of Thermal damage hits your spaceship from a laser hit, those become Conditions on your various modules and subsystems, realistically knocking out parts of your spacecraft so your engineer player gets to fix them and your medic gets to attend to crew.

This system also allows the GM to metre out the nature of damage to match the needs of the narrative much more easily. This allows weapons to be realistically dangerous without simply killing player characters all the time, because damage can be freely split between conditions; six damage from a handheld railgun doesn’t have to one-shot you, it can be interestingly split into a number of conditions describing the path of the shot. 

It also heavily simplifies a number of the game’s Hazards; you can make an ‘oxygen deprivation’ condition or a ‘barotrauma’ condition or a ‘heat stroke’ condition just as easily as anything else, and Resistances can be applied to that damage the same way. It elegantly compresses a number of systems from earlier drafts into a single, solutions-first mechanic.

Modes of Play & Vignettes

One big change in the new Draft is how the game uses alternating modes of play. We’ve ended up settling on four, two ‘main’ modes and two modes which are like exaggerated versions. You constantly build up Strain through Activity and Alert, every time you roll dice or get hurt, and you remove that Strain by going into Reflection and spending Supply.

The way we’ve decided to do this so that Reflection & Resupply can be tracked and even applied retroactively is Vignettes. Vignettes are scenes you play during Reflection to give a break from the action, creating the character moments that make us invested in the weird sci-fi shit by giving us a glimpse into the world. However, because each one is a discrete mechanical package with simple outcomes, you can also go ‘hey wait, I think that scene we just played was a Vignette!’ and it’ll still work.

The entire party plays the same Vignettes together and shares the benefits, with you playing more Vignettes the longer your characters are waiting (non-linearly; an hour gets you 1 Vignette, but a day only gets you 3). This timescale compression helps to get across the vast scale of space; there will be times when combat begins, both sides launch missiles at each other, and then you realise that it’ll be an hour before impact and you’re able to play a tense Vignette while you wait!

There are currently 9 Vignettes:

Three are Meetings: Conferences where you adjust your Investigation Checklists, Briefings where you make plans for dice bonuses, and Debates where you decide what to do in a controversial situation.

Three are Downtime: Relaxing to generate Unity and remove Strain, Lower Decks to introduce new crew NPCs you can call on for help, and Tourism to hang out with the locals, get language XP, and fill society checklists in a fun montage.

Three are Labour: Training to get XP, Treatment to recover Harm, and Project Work to create new Tools.

Resupply, which happens almost exclusively between episodes, will unlock three new Vignettes dedicated to your resources, spacecraft, and what’s happening back home.

That’s all for now. Hopefully we’ll have more detail for you next diary, which hopefully won’t take nearly as long. Provided there are no more tanks or awful diseases in my near future…

[cptapathy]

hey! what are you favorite ttrpgs?

Dice tumble

Pen scratch

A held breath

A promised climax

We sit around our table/

At our desk/in a circle on the floor

And together we laugh

And smile and more

We love these creations in our heads

As they dance and fight and flee

And as the night draws close to us

We hold them warm and tightly

These people we conjure are dear to me

For they are the crystal through which I look

To see the life I share with you

And the love we have for each other

Okay so my favourite ttrpg changes as I play them but right now it's A.N.I.M's EURKEA!

I have always been a fan of murder mysteries from Agatha Christie, to pie in the sky, Midsomer Murders, Rosemary and Thyme and everything in between.

I had run several murder mysteries in different ttrpgs and even a couple of murder mystery larps (including a spectacular zombie one) but I'd never found a system that truely captured what murder mysteries feel like.

Then I discovered Eureka and the Eureka mechanic and it all clicked. You could say it was a eureka moment.

I'm going to discuss in some detail the mechanic and give an example but before that everyone should go and

a. Follow A.N.I.M. on tumblr

@anim-ttrpgs

b. Join their patreon so we can get the gorgan playable investigator. Go look at all the cool stuff!

https://www.patreon.com/TheAgencyofNarrativeIntrigueandMysteryPatreon/posts

Essentially A.N.I.M have separated dice rolls into two categories

1. Investigation rolls

2. Non-investigation rolls

Investigation rolls are when an investigator is trying to uncover information or clues to progress the investigation. (Pretty clear definition) non-investigation rolls are all other rolls (combat, hiding secrets, getting out of dodge etc.)

Whenever an investigator makes an investigation roll there are 3 possible outcomes

1 Failure - they do not success and/or complications arise - they gain 3 Eureka points

2 partial success/mixed success - they get part of a clue or a clue and a complication - they gain 2 Eureka points

3 full success - they gain the clue without issue - they gain one Eureka point

When the investigators have a full eureka bar they can use a EUREKA!

This allows them to roll a check with 3d6 and take the highest instead of 2d6 or (my favourite option) gain clues from previous failed rolls.

So to take the most iconic episode of Midsomer Murders as an example - "The Killings At Badgers Drift"

Spoilers and CW for references to incest.

DCI Barnerby arrests the foppish artist on suspicion of murder, during the arrest the artist's sister arrives and the artist crys out "I've been framed" and makes a sign of a square with his fingers.

The DCI Makes an investigation roll but biffs it, snake eyes, complete failure, no hope of discovering that clue.

Later on The DCI is talking to a woman at a call centre who was the last known person to speak to the victim. Apparently the victim said "just like poor annabella" before hanging up. Again the DCI makes an investigation roll this time getting a partial success, there is someone related who has a name similar to annabella who died from an "accident" and the DCI decides to investigate this accident as well now, thinking (correctly) that it might not be so accidental.

But now the DCI has a full eureka bar and so the player shouts out eureka to gain the clue from the failed check earlier. And so, that night, the DCI has a dream of all the relevant clues and realises the clue missed when the artist made the symbol and said "I've been framed" it was a code, to tell his sister that the evidence of their affair (the nude painting he did of her) was in the attic and could prove that they were working together to keep their affair secret. This new vital clue allows the DCI to search for, and find, the painting helping to solve the mystery.

And so that is one reason I love eureka, along with the approach to disability and monster characters. It's currently got a free demo and stuff, go support them they're great.

[koolaidashley]

Gonna try and get the last part for tmnt 04 ep 1 out umm Saturday or Sunday ok 🫶🏻

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[raeygina-george]

I need to do art style studies but i CAN'T

[waterberry-strawmelon]

Random question, but fellow writers/readers:

At what point does portrayal of traumatic events and trauma recovery become romanticized, or when is the portrayal actually more harmful than it is an interesting story?

[ickadori]

++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.

[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.

“What you did was incredibly stupid.”

“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”

“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”

“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”

“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”

“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”

“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”

“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”

“You could have bought another one.”

“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”

“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn’t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.

“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”

“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.

“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”

“It looks like a child made it.”

“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.

“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”

“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”

“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”

“How kind of you.”

He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”

“I’m married, Your Grace.”

“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.

“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”

“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”

“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”

“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.

“Not at all, jailbird.”

[thoughtportal]

Opinion Here’s how to get free Paxlovid as many times as you need it

When the public health emergency around covid-19 ended, vaccines and treatments became commercial products, meaning companies could charge for them as they do other pharmaceuticals. Paxlovid, the highly effective antiviral pill that can prevent covid from becoming severe, now has a list price of nearly $1,400 for a five-day treatment course.

Thanks to an innovative agreement between the Biden administration and the drug’s manufacturer, Pfizer, Americans can still access the medication free or at very low cost through a program called Paxcess. The problem is that too few people — including pharmacists — are aware of it.

I learned of Paxcess only after readers wrote that pharmacies were charging them hundreds of dollars — or even the full list price — to fill their Paxlovid prescription. This shouldn’t be happening. A representative from Pfizer, which runs the program, explained to me that patients on Medicare and Medicaid or who are uninsured should get free Paxlovid. They need to sign up by going to paxlovid.iassist.com or by calling 877-219-7225. “We wanted to make enrollment as easy and as quick as possible,” the representative said.

Indeed, the process is straightforward. I clicked through the web form myself, and there are only three sets of information required. Patients first enter their name, date of birth and address. They then input their prescriber’s name and address and select their insurance type.

All this should take less than five minutes and can be done at home or at the pharmacy. A physician or pharmacist can fill it out on behalf of the patient, too. Importantly, this form does not ask for medical history, proof of a positive coronavirus test, income verification, citizenship status or other potentially sensitive and time-consuming information.

But there is one key requirement people need to be aware of: Patients must have a prescription for Paxlovid to start the enrollment process. It is not possible to pre-enroll. (Though, in a sense, people on Medicare or Medicaid are already pre-enrolled.)

Once the questionnaire is complete, the website generates a voucher within seconds. People can print it or email it themselves, and then they can exchange it for a free course of Paxlovid at most pharmacies.

Pfizer’s representative tells me that more than 57,000 pharmacies are contracted to participate in this program, including major chain drugstores such as CVS and Walgreens and large retail chains such as Walmart, Kroger and Costco. For those unable to go in person, a mail-order option is available, too.

The program works a little differently for patients with commercial insurance. Some insurance plans already cover Paxlovid without a co-pay. Anyone who is told there will be a charge should sign up for Paxcess, which would further bring down their co-pay and might even cover the entire cost.

Several readers have attested that Paxcess’s process was fast and seamless. I was also glad to learn that there is basically no limit to the number of times someone could use it. A person who contracts the coronavirus three times in a year could access Paxlovid free or at low cost each time.

Unfortunately, readers informed me of one major glitch: Though the Paxcess voucher is honored when presented, some pharmacies are not offering the program proactively. As a result, many patients are still being charged high co-pays even if they could have gotten the medication at no cost.

This is incredibly frustrating. However, after interviewing multiple people involved in the process, including representatives of major pharmacy chains and Biden administration officials, I believe everyone is sincere in trying to make things right. As we saw in the early days of the coronavirus vaccine rollout, it’s hard to get a new program off the ground. Policies that look good on paper run into multiple barriers during implementation.

Those involved are actively identifying and addressing these problems. For instance, a Walgreens representative explained to me that in addition to educating pharmacists and pharmacy techs about the program, the company learned it also had to make system changes to account for a different workflow. Normally, when pharmacists process a prescription, they inform patients of the co-pay and dispense the medication. But with Paxlovid, the system needs to stop them if there is a co-pay, so they can prompt patients to sign up for Paxcess.

Here is where patients and consumers must take a proactive role. That might not feel fair; after all, if someone is ill, people expect that the system will work to help them. But that’s not our reality. While pharmacies work to fix their system glitches, patients need to be their own best advocates. That means signing up for Paxcess as soon as they receive a Paxlovid prescription and helping spread the word so that others can get the antiviral at little or no cost, too.

{source}

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Today I am thinking about weaving.

I can knit and crochet, but those crafts didn't exist in Roman times. Any historically accurate Roman cloth must be woven. So when a little potholder loom jumped into my shopping basket for 50 cents, it felt like a sign I should learn.

One potholder that was 50% yarn and 50% weird gaps later, I looked up a tutorial, and realized why the damn thing was 50 cents. I needed a better, more adaptable loom. And, because I am a cheapskate and slightly loony, I decided to make one instead of buying it.

So, how does this thing work?

First, you string the warp threads up and down, around the pegs. Here, I made a zigzag shape. Then, you use a needle or shuttle to weave more yarn over and under the warp, horizontally, back and forth. This produces woven fabric.

Some looms weave from the top, some from the bottom. This Greek urn shows two weavers working from the top. The left weaver uses a rod to compact the woven fabric upward, keeping it even and sturdy. The right weaver is passing an oval-shaped shuttle through the warp threads to form another row.

Most Roman looms would have looked like this, with the finished cloth at the top. Unlike my looms, these are warp-weighted. That means you keep the warp yarns taut by hanging weights at the bottom, rather than through a bottom row of pegs.

Warp-weighted looms also have a big advantage over my little potholder loom: you can easily create multiple sheds.

A "shed" is a temporary gap between lifted strands and non-lifted strands. Instead of having to go over and under each strand individually, you raise the entire shed, then pull the shuttle or needle straight through. This saves lots of time! Then, to weave the next row, you close the shed, lift up a different set of threads to create a new shed, and send the shuttle/needle through the other direction.

On a warp-weighted loom, the sheds are opened by loops called heddles (H), which are attached to a heddle rod (G). When the rod is down, shed (1) is open (middle diagram). When you pull the rod up, shed (1) closes and shed (2) opens instead (right diagram). Most warp-weighted looms also have a pair of forks you can rest the heddle rod on, to free your hands.

Here, there are three heddle rods and sets of forks, the heddles are white, and the warp thread is red. This gives you four different sheds, and the potential to weave very complex patterns indeed. Not bad for a device invented over 6500 years ago!

I liked the multiple heddle-rod design so much, I tried incorporating it into my DIY loom, too. I've tested both yarn and paperclips as heddles:

I actually got both sheds and heddle-rods working, too. Which is pretty cool for a lap loom - every other lap loom I found only has one shed, so you have to go over-under the individual threads on alternate rows.* More time-consuming. However, the sheds here are narrow, and I'll need a smaller and smoother shuttle to pass through them smoothly. This wouldn't be an issue on a warp-weighted loom, where the warp hangs freely downward, and can move more flexibly with the heddles.

Anyway. I may get a "real" loom at some point, but I wanted to build one first, and I think it gave me more appreciation for just how resourceful ancient weavers were. They created technology, clothing, and artwork out of very basic materials, and civilization depended on these skills.

Now, I need to go finish the...whatever the hell it will be. Big thanks to Wikipedia and to the lovely Youtubers who make this craft easier to learn. I think it'll be a lot of fun.

(*Edit - found out a rotating heddle bar can make two sheds on a lap loom! Exciting!!)

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.