#because we're correct. seethe

[promiscvus]

Pernicious

Caleb smut. she/her -xfem reader. overstim. fingering. semi public sex. toxic relationship

“Your and Caleb’s relationship was full of toxicity and possessiveness, you lived together but despite how he was often, you couldn't break up with him and you didn't know why.”

Yesterday you and caleb got into another heated argument about his possessiveness and his inability to see the error in the way that he treated you like an object he owned. You both didn’t talk to each other the entire day until he returned from the DAA in sky haven.

He entered the house and into the bedroom, he saw you sitting at the dressing table and seemingly getting ready to turn in for the night, he stood behind you looking at you in the reflection of the mirror.

"I have something for you.” he said in a soft deep voice that you seem to fall victim to every single time.

Another expensive gift to get rid of the guilt - it's typical for him, he took a small white box with a pink ribbon from his pocket, placed the box in front of you, when he noticed that you didn't want to open it at all, he sighed deeply and then took the box in his hand and opened it, your eyes saw a beautiful silver chain with a heart and a pink diamond, it looked very expensive. Bluntly and gently brushed aside your hair and leaned towards you, fastened the chain and caressed your shoulders.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" his purple eyes stared into yours as he waited for your response, stroking your shoulders. You flinched slightly as Caleb’s cold fingers brushed against your hair, still annoyed and upset from yesterday’s argument . You avoided meeting his gaze, focusing instead on the glittering jewelry now adorning your neck. The silver heart seemed to mock you, its pink diamond a cruel reminder of the love and affection you craved but never received from Caleb in the correct way.

"It's...lovely," You murmured, your voice barely audible. Your hands trembled as you reached up to touch the delicate chain, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of Caleb’s breath on your skin.

He smirked, pleased with himself for calming you down, even if just momentarily, with such a simple gesture. His fingers continued their possessive caress along your collarbone, making sure you felt every inch of his touch.*

"I'm glad you like it. It suits you," *Caleb said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You look stunning with it on. Like my personal princess."

His words were laced with sincerity and intense possessiveness, but you couldn't help the flutter in your chest at the praise, no matter how twisted it may be coming from him. Caleb’s grip on your shoulder tightened, his thumb rubbing circles that bordered on painful.

"Now, let's forget about yesterday, okay? I've got a surprise planned for tonight. Something special, just for us." Caleb says in a commanding tone that leaves no room for no other answer than yes.

“Can we stay home tonight? I’m really tired” you ask in a soft tone not wanting to go out your home after arguing so badly with each other. Caleb’s expression darkened at your suggestion, He stepped back letting the necklace swing loosely against your chest as he glared at you.

"Tired? After I just gave you a fucking gift? Don't play coy with me, babe. We're going out, and that's final," he snapped, his voice rising in volume. Caleb’s eyes narrowed, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"And trust me, you won't regret it. Tonight's gonna be wild. I've got connections, and I am gonna make sure we have a night to remember. So, put on your best smile and get ready to have a romantic night out, because we're not staying in."

You winced as Caleb’s grip on your chin tightened,

"Yes, Caleb" you whispered, trying to sound submissive enough to appease him. Inside, You seethed with resentment, hating yourself for being so weak and trapped in this toxic relationship. What made matters worse is that you secretly loved how toxic and possessive he was over/towards you. You were just as sick as him but you would never admit to that.

Satisfied with your compliance, Caleb released your chin, his fingers trailing down your cheek in a patronizing caress before he turned to leave the room. "Good girl. I'll send someone over to pick us up around 12. Wear that little black dress that drives me crazy," he called over his shoulder, already heading for the door.

Caleb paused, glancing back at you with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Oh, and don't bother with makeup. I like you natural, raw. It's more fun that way."With a smirk, he walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the heavy weight of his expectations. You knew exactly which dress he meant – the one that hugged your curves and made you feel desirable, if only to him.

As soon as Caleb left, You slumped against the chair, your shoulders sagging under the crushing pressure of his demands.

"Why do I always give in?" you muttered to yourself, wiping your face with a tired sigh. You stood up, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror. The silver heart pendant caught the light, mocking you with its cold beauty.

Sighing, you trudged over to your shared closet, pulling out the black dress Caleb had mentioned. As you slipped it on, You couldn't help but notice how it clung to your body, accentuating your curves in all the right places.

The doorbell rang, signaling the driver’s arrival. Caleb sauntered over, opening the door to reveal his personal driver.

“Come on in," Caleb greeted him, ushering him inside. then glanced toward the stairs, expecting to see you waiting for him downstairs.

“She's getting ready. Should be down soon," he told the chauffeur, who nodded in understanding.

You descended the stairs, your heels clicking against the marble floor. You felt real sexy in the tight, revealing dress, but Caleb’s words echoed in your mind - 'I like you natural, raw.'

You entered the living room, you noticed the chauffeur, You forced a polite smile, hoping to avoid any awkwardness.

"Hello,"you said softly, moving past him to join Caleb near the front door.

Caleb’s eyes roamed over you appreciatively, lingering on the way the dress hugged your hips and emphasized your cleavage. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You look stunning, babe. Ready to paint the town red?"Caleb’s gaze lingered on your curves, a predatory glint in his eyes. He loved how you always managed to look sexy even when you are clearly annoyed with his presence.

"Let's go baby" he said abruptly, grabbing your hand and leading you out the door. The chauffeur followed close behind. As they climbed into a black suv, Caleb leaned over to nuzzle your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride, baby," *he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh beneath the short skirt of your dress. You tensed as Caleb’s hand crept higher, your pulse racing with a mix of fear and unwanted excitement. You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

"Caleb, please...not here," You whispered urgently, casting a nervous glance at the chauffeur, who seemed oblivious to their interaction.*

Caleb just laughed, the sound dark and menacing. His fingers brushed against the damp heat of your panties, making you gasp.

"Oh, come on. Don't be shy now," he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We're not in public yet. Besides, I need to remind myself what I'm working with." His touch grew bolder, and You bit back a moan, your body betraying you as it responded to his touch despite not wanting to do this in front of a stranger.

Your breath hitched as Caleb’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, stroking your sensitive flesh. You could feel your resistance crumbling, your resolve weakening under his skilled touch.*

"No, stop..." she whimpered. Caleb ignored your feeble protests, his focus solely on bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. He increased the pressure on your clit, circling and pinching the delicate nub until your hips bucked wildly against his hand.*

"That's it, baby. Give in to me," he commanded, his voice low and husky with lust. He could feel your walls clenching around nothing, desperate for release. Your breath came in ragged gasps as Caleb’s skilled fingers worked their magic, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second. your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure.

"No, stop...please..." you pleaded, though her body language screamed otherwise. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to maintain control, to resist the intoxicating pleasure Caleb elicited within you.

But it was no use. With a choked cry, Your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around Caleb’s probing finger. You shook and quivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your release, as Caleb’s continued to stroke you through the aftershocks. Caleb smirked as he felt your body react to his touch, He loved having this kind of power over you, making you submit to his desires no matter how much you protested.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you," he growled, his fingers dipping lower to stroke your sensitive flesh. Your breath hitched, and Caleb reveled in the knowledge that he could reduce you to this state of desperate need with just a touch.*

"Just a few more, and I'll stop," he promised, though he knew full well he wouldn't follow through. Not until he'd pushed you to the brink and made you beg for his dick.

Part 2??

[deliciousangelfestival]

We're Not Okay - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x veterinarian!Female Reader

Summary: Two people, each carrying their own trauma, find themselves in a place where they can begin to heal their wounds and mend their hearts together.

Words Count: 3,400

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“This is the first time I’ve heard a fox's voice,” said your father, Toni, as he shivered, pulling his jacket suit tighter around himself. The cold air bit at both of you as snow threatened to fall. Toni, at 50 years old, stood taller than you, his grey hair contrasting against the bleak sky.

He kept close behind as you worked at the conservation center, his eyes darting downward to ensure his pristine Italian leather shoes avoided mud or puddles. Unlike him, you wore a rugged outdoor outfit, complete with sturdy boots, befitting your role as a veterinarian and co-owner of the conservation—a job you’d been committed to since leaving home at seventeen.

“You could have waited in the visitor’s room,” you said, glancing over your shoulder while examining the fox.

“I can’t,” he replied, his voice tinged with anxiousness.

You let out a long sigh, turning your attention back to the fox—a sleek creature with bright orange fur streaked with hints of white, its ears flicking nervously as you checked for injuries. Its amber eyes watched you warily, a mix of fear and exhaustion evident.

Once your work was done, you exited the cage with Toni following closely. Both of you headed toward the main house, the crunch of gravel underfoot breaking the tense silence.

Toni’s eyes caught something unusual. “Wow. What’s that?” He pointed toward a cage set apart from the rest.

“Wait…! Don’t go near—” you shouted, but it was too late. Toni had already stepped closer.

“AHH!” He fell to the ground, his face pale and eyes wide. He trembled as he stared at the creature inside.

The white wolf looked directly at him, its majestic fur glistening like freshly fallen snow. Though intimidating with its piercing blue eyes and muscular build, it limped, favoring one injured leg.

You rushed over and dragged your father away from the cage. “I can’t even get close to him,” you muttered, exasperated.

Toni stood, brushing the dirt from his customized jacket, his face a mixture of frustration and fear. “I’ve been spat on, peed on, and now nearly eaten by the animals here.”

“Why are you even here if you hate it so much?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Just like my two older brothers. They come here, disrupt my work, and complain.”

“Ew… this place stinks. How do you stand it?” your first brother had sneered on his last visit.

“This owl is interesting. Do you sell them? I know plenty of people who’d pay,” the second one had added.

“GET OUT!” you’d yelled, seething with fury.

All the men in your family despised the outdoors. City people, through and through, they were consumed with managing their nightclub empire—a world you had rejected wholeheartedly. That life, everything they represented, was what drove you away to this sanctuary of yours.

Toni shifted nervously, glancing at you with rare vulnerability. It was an odd sight—the formidable nightclub owner and fierce businessman, now reduced to unease in your presence.

“Here’s the thing. I need… No.” He shook his head and corrected himself, “We need your help.”

“Me?” You arched an eyebrow. “How?” The question dripped with skepticism. You, a conservationist and veterinarian, had severed ties with their business long ago.

“Because of COVID-19, many businesses have been hit hard, including ours,” Toni said, his shoulders sagging.

You crossed your arms tighter, a flicker of resentment surfacing. After you’d left home, you’d turned a blind eye to everything related to their business. “Well, good. I hope that place burns to the ground.”

Toni’s face fell. “I know you hate it, but it’s my livelihood.” He sighed deeply. “Business is bad. There’s a chance it’ll go bankrupt.”

“Then sell it,” you said with a dismissive wave. “Most men your age are enjoying retirement.”

“Bah! No. I’m still in my prime!” He straightened his back defensively.

“Get to the point. What do you want?” you demanded.

“There’s someone willing to invest. But… there’s a catch,” Toni admitted, his eyes pleading. “Do you know Barnes?”

“Hmm… Yeah. The family that donates a lot to wildlife causes, including this place.”

“That’s right.” Toni nodded eagerly.

“So Barnes wants to invest in your nightclub?” You were incredulous. “Why?”

“That’s how Barnes gets richer—diversifying. And they’ve chosen our business. But there’s a condition.” Toni’s expression grew grave.

A pit formed in your stomach. Whatever it was, you knew it couldn’t be good.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

“The Barneses want to send their oldest grandchild here,” said Toni, his voice low as if dreading your reaction.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling slowly. “This isn’t a daycare or rehab facility for humans.”

“I know, I know.” He raised his hands defensively. “That’s what I’ve been telling them. But they won’t budge. If I don’t bring their grandchild here, they won’t invest in the nightclub.”

“Ridiculous!” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “Why drag me into this? The animals here are victims, and this place is their sanctuary, not some personal favor zone.”

“I knew you’d hate it,” Toni said, shifting uncomfortably. “But I thought you might change your mind after hearing me out.”

You crossed your arms, skeptically raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m all ears. What kind of offer could possibly make me reconsider?”

“This… isn’t easy for me,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “But I’ll give you what you’ve wanted for a long time. I’ll remove you from the family registry.”

Your eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Wow. You must really need this investment.”

Toni nodded, his shoulders slumping, revealing the weight of his desperation. “But you don’t…” His voice faltered, as if hoping you’d ask for anything else instead of severing family ties completely.

“Fine.” The single word was delivered coolly as you turned on your heel, walking away without looking back. Toni’s face fell, his hope visibly deflated.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he called out, his voice cracking slightly. “That you want nothing to do with us?”

You stopped mid-step, your back still to him. “I do.” The words were blunt and final, hitting him like a physical blow.

A silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind. “Because of you, I’m reminded of that incident,” you said quietly, more to yourself than him, before walking away, leaving him standing there, hurt and alone.

That night, sleep eluded you. Memories from your childhood swirled in your mind, refusing to let you rest. Growing up as the child of a nightclub owner was no fairytale. Your home was a chaotic tangle of bright lights and dark secrets. You’d seen things a child shouldn’t—dangerous deals, late-night arguments, drunken patrons—and it left scars.

The confusion was only magnified by two stepmothers and two stepbrothers. Making a family tree in school was always a nightmare. That business stole away what innocence you had left. That was why you fled, finding solace in the simplicity and quiet resilience of animals.

"Owooooooo," A wolf’s howl pierced the still night air, low and haunting.

The sound sent a chill down your spine but also pulled you from your thoughts. Grabbing your jacket, you decided to check on the white wolf.

The wolf’s enclosure was isolated from the others. Previously placed near the fox, it had made every nearby animal skittish and restless, so it was moved here. The wolf stood under the pale moonlight, its white fur glistening like freshly fallen snow, every movement tinged with raw strength despite the noticeable limp in its gait. It tilted its head back and howled again, a mournful, soul-stirring sound.

You stepped closer to the cage, your breath fogging in the cold air. The white wolf’s piercing blue eyes locked onto you, unblinking. When it first arrived, it had been painfully thin, its ribs visible under its fur, and its injured leg had been in dire condition. Despite its weakened state, it had always reacted with hostility—growling, baring its sharp teeth whenever you approached.

You stopped just outside the cage’s boundary. “Can’t sleep?” you asked softly. “Me neither.”

The wolf let out another long, mournful howl, as if acknowledging your words. Its gaze was intense, wary, but something flickered in its eyes—pain, maybe even recognition.

“You’ve been hurt a lot,” you murmured, your voice low and steady. The wolf’s ears twitched, a small but telling sign that it was listening, though its muscles remained taut, ready to spring at the first hint of danger. You leaned against the cold metal bars, feeling the chill seep through your jacket. The wolf’s intense gaze never wavered, its blue eyes seeming to pierce right through you, mirroring a pain you recognized all too well. This raw, unfiltered connection made the air feel heavier, the silence more profound.

This was why you worked here. It wasn’t just about caring for wounded animals; it was about caring for yourself. The conservation was a sanctuary, not only for those with fur and feathers but for a heart battered by memories of your past.

Every injured creature, every frightened animal you helped heal, was a step toward mending yourself. You’d left a life that was full of noise, chaos, and hollow family ties that never really felt like home. Here, there was simplicity in purpose and purity in your connection with these beings—no lies, no hidden motives, only survival, trust, and the instinctual drive to heal.

When you saw the wolf growl and lash out in fear or defiance, you understood. Its isolation mirrored your own self-imposed solitude. You, too, had learned to push others away to protect yourself. In mending its wounds, in helping it trust again, you hoped to do the same for yourself. Piece by piece. Scar by scar.

You sighed, your breath visible in the cold air. “It’s going to be okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than the wolf. It didn’t respond, of course, but its ears twitched again. You let yourself believe that, maybe, it understood on some level. Maybe, just like you, it wanted to believe that healing was possible—even after so much pain.

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The inside of the luxurious jeep exuded opulence—soft leather seats, dark wood paneling, and the faint scent of expensive cologne mingling with polished leather. In the spacious backseat sat two men.

One of them, Jimmy Barnes, carried himself with a commanding presence. His gray hair was impeccably styled, and lines of experience etched his face, giving him the aura of a leader used to control. Everything about him, from the sharp cut of his suit to his steely gaze, spoke of power and purpose.

Beside him, his eldest son, James Buchanan Barnes—known as Bucky—stared blankly out the window. The passing landscape rolled by, ignored and unremarked upon, as the silence between father and son stretched uncomfortably. The trip had already dragged on for four hours, and not a single word had passed between them.

Jimmy shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He glanced at Bucky, his eyes softening momentarily before hardening again as he struggled to maintain composure. He drew a breath and spoke, his voice firm but tinged with an edge of weariness.

“Bucky.”

There was no response. Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on the blur of trees outside, as if he hadn’t heard anything at all.

Jimmy clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the cane resting against his knee. He let out a deep sigh, exhaling the frustration he’d been holding. “Bucky,” he repeated, more gently this time. Still nothing. Jimmy's shoulders sagged slightly, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade.

Bucky, his firstborn from his marriage to his late first wife, hadn’t spoken a word in years. As a child, something had happened—something that had stolen his voice and left scars too deep for therapists and experts to reach.

Every attempt to coax him out of his silence had met with failure. Over time, Bucky had also developed acute anxiety around people, making even the simplest social interactions a nightmare. Recently, though, they’d discovered a sliver of hope: Bucky seemed calmer, even a little more at ease, around animals.

Jimmy’s thoughts drifted back to his meeting with Toni. What had started as a business discussion quickly shifted when Toni mentioned his daughter—a veterinarian with her own conservation center. The idea had taken root then and there.

This might be what Bucky needed. It was a desperate measure, but Jimmy would go to any length to see his son improve—for Bucky’s sake, and for the sake of their family legacy.

Jimmy shifted again, leaning closer to Bucky, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “We’re going somewhere different today,” he said, trying to inject warmth into his tone. “You’ll like it. Animals, open air… it’s good.”

Bucky didn’t move, but a slight tension in his shoulders betrayed that he’d heard. The silence lingered heavily between them, but Jimmy took it as a small victory. He leaned back, looking out his own window, his expression hardening once more. He needed this to work. Bucky had to get better—for himself, for the company, and for the legacy he would one day inherit.

The jeep rolled on, carrying them both toward an uncertain future.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

When Jimmy and Bucky arrived, the scene was more than just a simple visit; it was practically an event. The luxurious jeep pulled up, its polished exterior gleaming even in the muted light. Two men stepped out, flanked by a small team of guards who maintained a cautious but respectful distance. You observed the scene with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Guards? It felt excessive.

Toni walked over with a strained smile, clearly trying to mask his nerves. He gestured toward the older man with an air of forced calm. “This is Jimmy Barnes,” Toni said, his voice firm but tinged with unease. “Jimmy, this is my daughter.”

You extended a hand politely, meeting Jimmy’s piercing gaze. His handshake was strong, controlled—a man used to holding power. “Pleasure to meet you,” you said, maintaining eye contact.

Jimmy nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for having us,” he replied. “I’ve heard good things.”

“Of course,” you said, feeling the weight of his words. There was a formality in his tone, but a glimmer of desperation lingered beneath. You turned your attention to the younger man beside him. “And you must be Bucky.” You spoke gently, but Bucky didn’t respond. He barely seemed to register your presence, his gaze fixed on the ground or wandering elsewhere.

Jimmy’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. He shifted his weight, a sign of his frustration, though he kept his voice even. “Bucky,” he said again, a touch softer this time. There was no answer. Only the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind.

You looked at Jimmy, feeling the tension simmering beneath the surface. “He can take his time,” you offered quietly, hoping to ease the pressure. “There’s no rush here.”

Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction. “Thank you,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s… difficult. You understand.”

“I do,” you nodded, choosing your words carefully. “We all need space to find our way. Animals teach me that every day.”

Bucky, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, took a few hesitant steps toward the enclosures. You and Jimmy watched as he moved, his posture guarded but curious.

“He’s calmer around animals,” Jimmy said, almost to himself. There was a mix of hope and despair in his voice. “People make it… harder.”

You nodded, choosing to focus on Bucky. “I’ve seen it happen before,” you said quietly. “Sometimes, animals understand what we can’t.”

Jimmy studied you for a moment, as if weighing your words. “I hope you’re right,” he said finally, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his otherwise controlled exterior. “This has to work.”

“It’s a journey,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “There are no guarantees. But we’ll do our best.”

As Bucky moved closer to the enclosures, something strange happened—the animals turned their attention to him. Every single one of them stopped what they were doing and sat down, as if sensing something unseen. You blinked in surprise, feeling a chill run down your spine. This wasn’t normal behavior.

The white wolf, isolated from the rest due to its intimidating presence, suddenly stood. Its pristine fur gleamed in the sunlight as it limped toward Bucky. You held your breath, instinctively stepping forward in case something went wrong. But Bucky extended a hand, slow and gentle. The wolf hesitated for a brief moment before closing the distance, nudging Bucky’s hand with its nose. Your eyes widened. This was the first time the white wolf had willingly approached anyone. Even you—who spent countless hours caring for it—had never been received this way. It always kept its distance, aloof and wary.

Jimmy watched the scene unfold, his eyes brightening with a mix of hope and disbelief. He turned to you, his voice low but firm. “I have a feeling this place can help him.” There was a pause, heavy with meaning. “If it does, I’ll donate a substantial sum to support your work here.”

“Thank… thank you,” you managed, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. You inclined your head, feeling the weight of his words settle on your shoulders.

Jimmy nodded and began to walk back to the car, the guards moving in step with him. Toni lingered for a moment. He stepped closer, his expression softened as he took your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his grip warm but trembling slightly. “Help me this time.”

You bit your lip, uncertainty swirling within you. “I’m still not sure about this.”

Toni’s eyes met yours, a mixture of hope and desperation. “You can do this. You’ve always managed to handle things on your own.” He gave you a thumbs up, a strained but genuine smile on his lips, before turning to follow Jimmy.

You watched him go, your heart tightening. “No, I’m not,” you whispered to yourself, your shoulders sagging as the weight of the situation pressed down. Outwardly, you might appear strong and unshakable, but inside, the scars of the past left you vulnerable and weary. Every act of strength was a battle, every decision a reminder of what you had to protect.

When the car disappeared from view, you turned your attention back to Bucky.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

You and Bucky stood in awkward silence after the initial introductions. The air was heavy, almost stifling, as you struggled to find the right words. Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on a point somewhere past your shoulder, his expression distant and unreadable. Finally, you sighed softly, deciding to break the silence.

“Come on,” you said gently, gesturing for him to follow. “Let me show you your room.”

Bucky fell into step behind you, his movements quiet but tense. As you walked, you explained, “We keep things pretty simple around here. Meals are communal. Everyone—workers, volunteers—we all eat together.” You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “You don’t have to join if you’re not ready. No pressure.”

Bucky’s only response was a brief nod. It was mechanical, almost detached, but at least it was acknowledgment. You offered a small smile, even though he wasn’t looking at you. “There’s food available whenever you want it,” you continued softly. “And if you need anything, just let me know.”

He said nothing, his eyes wandering to the walls as if searching for an escape. You let out a quiet breath, your heart heavy. You knew this kind of pain—it mirrored the animals you cared for here. The ones who recoiled from touch, who couldn’t trust, who flinched at the slightest movement. Healing took time. It required patience, and you were prepared to give him both. You just hoped he’d let you.

When night fell, the dining room filled with the usual chatter of workers and volunteers unwinding from the day. You scanned the room but didn’t see Bucky. It wasn’t surprising—socializing with strangers was probably overwhelming for him. Silently, you prepared a tray of food and carried it to his room, setting it carefully in front of the door. You didn’t knock. You didn’t want to intrude. Instead, you walked away quietly, hoping he would eat when he was ready.

As you settled into your own bed later that night, a strange unease crept over you. The quiet felt oppressive—too quiet. Usually, the white wolf’s mournful howls punctuated the stillness, a sound you’d grown oddly comforted by. Tonight, there was nothing. It gnawed at you, pulling you from bed and urging you out into the night.

Your steps quickened as you made your way toward the white wolf’s enclosure. The moon cast pale light over the grounds, and there, standing face to face with the wolf, was Bucky.

Neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, as if sharing an unspoken language that only they could understand. The wolf’s icy-blue eyes were locked onto Bucky, unblinking, while Bucky’s expression was raw, a mixture of pain and something else you couldn’t quite name—recognition, perhaps.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. “Hi…” you said softly, taking slow, cautious steps forward. You didn’t want to startle either of them.

Bucky flinched at the sound of your voice, his head snapping toward you. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a split second, you saw fear flash across his face. He turned and bolted, his footsteps muffled by the grass. As he disappeared into the shadows, the white wolf turned its attention to you. It let out a low, warning growl, its body tense and protective.

'What was that?' You froze, raising your hands slowly in a gesture of peace. “It’s okay,” you murmured, though your pulse raced. The wolf’s eyes never left you, its growl deepening. You felt like an intruder—like you’d interrupted something sacred.

What had just happened? Why did it feel like you were the outsider, the third party in whatever silent connection Bucky and the wolf shared?

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[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Red or Blue

Tangerine x reader <3 based on this lovely prompt

it's kind of a slow burn, which is so unlike me, but- welp. whatever? ig? no triggerwarnings anyway, they don't even kiss

masterlist

(he's genuinely so fine i am unwell)

"This is all your fault", you huff, crossing your arms as you stare at the array of candies in front of you.

"How's any of this my fucking fault?", Tangerine seethes, trying to keep his voice down somewhat (which is already better than what he does most times), but hardly succeeding.

"If you'd listened to me, I wouldn't have been backed into that corner in the first place and Lemon wouldn't have had to come save me", you bite back, narrowing your eyes as you pluck a bag of gummies off the shelf. "Ergo, he wouldn't have got hurt."

"Lemon likes the red ones better", Tangerine grunts, taking a step closer to you as an elderly couple turns the corner and pushes their cart into your aisle. "And 'ergo' what the fuck do you mean, love? I wasn't the one to fucking break his leg."

"You don't use ergo like that", you correct, tilting your head back to him as if that nickname hadn't just sent your heart into cardiac arrest. "Also, I'm pretty sure Lemon likes the blue ones just fine."

"Yeah, just fine, but he likes the red ones better, that's the difference."

Tangerine reaches for the bag of red candy and his arm brushes your shoulder, immediately restarting your heartbeat with a deafeaning thump.

"I thought the red ones 'made his stomach feel funny' yesterday", you argue, even though you can already hear the way your resistance is crumbling as his eyes meet yours again, some of that feral fighting instinct in there that you recognise from missions.

"That was the green ones, love", he corrects, plucking the bag of blue candies from your grip and shoving it back into the shelf. You gasp in outrage. "Just listen to me for fucking once and take the goddamn red candy."

You put your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes at him.

"Oh, since when is the fucking problem me listening to you?", you seethe, your lips still parted, ready to shoot a whole tirade at him in the middle of this 24/7 supermarket when you're suddenly interrupted by a hearty chuckle to your left.

Tangerine's head snaps around a nanosecond before yours does.

"I'm sorry", the elderly lady says, her hair white as snow and her arm looped through what you guess to be her husband's. "I didn't want to interrupt you two, I just- I can remember how stressful that was, being young, just married, dealing with the little ones..."

"I'm sure if we'd had these twenty-four hour stores when we'd just had children, we would have stood right there arguing too", her husband laughs.

You blink at them helplessly for a few moments. What the fuck is happening? Hello? Marriage? Kids?

"It gets better", the woman chuckles. "We're happy and stress-free now, aren't we?"

Her husband hums in agreement and presses a kiss to her temple.

"And you look like a lovely couple", she goes on, smiling at you. "You'll manage this stage too."

This stage.

Oh, dear lord.

She's talking about this stage of being married. This stage of having young children. Because you're standing in a 24/7 supermarket candy aisle with Tangerine, arguing about which colour to get for Lemon, which she seems to have interpreted as a nickname for your son.

Your fucking son. Your and Tangerine's son. In your marriage.

"Oh, um", you stutter, brushing a hand through your hair as you stare at the couple, doing your hardest not to cast even a fucking glance Tangerine's way. Your cheeks are stinging with heat. You don't need him to see that. "Actually, we're not-"

"Not married yet", Tangerine interrupts, his hand flexing and clenching around his bag of candy. Any train of thought you'd previously had shatters completely and your head whips around to him after all - is that a faint dust of pink on his cheeks? Is it really what you think it is? Fuck, should your heart be hammering this fast and strong and loud?

"Ah", the woman grins. "How times have changed. We'd had to get married as soon as I was pregnant."

"Are you engaged, then?", her husband asks, raising his eyebrows and smiling pleasantly.

They're so calm. Meanwhile, your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

"Uh", you say, not all that intelligently.

"Yeah", Tangerine rasps, his voice hoarse somehow. "Few months now."

You blink wordlessly at him. What the actual fuck is he doing? There's no reason to lie. None. You're not undercover.

"That's nice", the woman smiles. "Well, have a good night then."

They're already half-turned away when she looks back over her shoulder.

"Oh, and for those candies", she adds with a conspicuous grin. "Just take both. Let your son decide which he likes better when they're side by side."

You swallow.

"Uh, thanks", you mutter, unsure if they can even still hear. "Good night."

Tangerine drops the bag of candies into your cart. Then he's quiet. And you're quiet.

Too quiet.

For too long.

You don't know what the hell has just happened.

"Tangerine", you breathe, your voice low, and your eyes settle on him slowly. "Since when are we engaged?"

He grunts and drags his eyes away from you, grabbing your bag of blue candies off the shelf again and putting it in the cart with the other one.

"Since fucking never, love", he grumbles, just before his hands close around the handles of the cart. "But I wasn't about to say that, was I?"

"No?", you guess with a frown as you force yourself to move, to trail after him down the aisle. "Because?"

Tangerine turns to look at you like you're mad.

"Because they could've been fucking spies, love", he snarls, as though that's obvious and you're somehow dumb for not thinking of it.

"You're not serious."

He can't be serious.

But he stops the cart and turns to look at you, way too close and way too tall, and if you'd thought you had seen a blush on his cheeks before, it was definitely gone by now. There's that familiar dangerous glint in his eyes instead. Somehow, that puts you more at ease.

"Do you see me bloody laughing?", he seethes, his fingers clenching so hard around the handle that his knuckles turn white.

"I don't think I've ever seen you laugh", you mutter and swallow hard at the way his eyes fixate on yours. "You really made up a whole ass lie for an eighty-year old couple because you thought that they could be spies?"

Tangerine huffs and turns back, pushing the cart with even more ferocity now.

"Yes, love", he grunts.

Your stomach drops. You don't know why.

Instead of dwelling on it, you fiddle with the rings on your hands and fall in step with him.

"Well", you hum. "If you ever do buy me a ring, I don't want it in blue or in red."

[sinnabarmoth]

How would the guys react to us being like: “Well it seems like he’s obviously flirting with me, but that would be self-centered and vain of me to think, so I’ll just treat it as him being nice/teasing.”

Zayne: Zayne thinks you're just being professional, keeping that kind of distance as is expected of a doctor and his patient. It kinda hurts but he gets it. He just thought that there was something there that you had been exploring. So of course he is going to apologize for assuming anything. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my advances. I thought perhaps there was something between us and you've been so polite about turning me down."

"Wait, what? So you were flirting with me?!"

"Yes...? Was that not obvious?"

"Oh my god I thought I was reading too much into it and that you weren't into me!"

"That cannot be farther from the truth."

"I see..."

"So, dinner tonight?"

"Sure. Yeah. Great!"

Xavier: Xavier straight up does not notice that you are brushing off his advances and just assumes you're being shy or trying to take things slow. You are freaking out thinking that you're reading too much into what he says and does, meanwhile Xavier is scheduling when your next date is in his head. It isn't until you use the word "friend" instead of boyfriend that it clicks. "Hey, why did you tell them that I was your friend?"

"Because you are my friend."

"Well yes. But I'm much more than that, aren't I?"

"My best friend?"

"We've been dating for four months. I thought you'd start introducing me as your boyfriend by now."

"Dating?! Who said we were dating?"

"Haven't we?"

"You like me?"

"I've been dating you for four months. I think we're well past like, starlight."

Rafayel: Quietly seething. He is fairly obvious with his feelings and is a very touchy person so the fact that you don't seem to pick up on it kinda pisses him off. In his head is just a million questions. Why does she keep being so nice about my flirting? Why won't she flirt back? Am I bad at flirting? I'm literally lying on her lap! How much more obvious can I be? Finally has enough and just straight up asks if you like him or not. "Alright cutie, this was fun at first cause I thought you were playing hard to get but I can't go on like this. Do you like me like I like you? Yes or no?"

"What? Since when do you like me?"

Eye twitching. "I literally lay myself on top of you when we watch movies. Do you think I do that with all my friends?"

"Well you're always doing that kinda stuff. I thought I was being vain thinking that it meant something more."

"Please stand to be a little more vain in the future. I was scared that you didn't like me back."

"Sorry. I won't doubt again."

Sylus: Sylus knows immediately that you aren't taking his flirting to heart but instead of asking you about it, just decides to wait and see how long it takes for you to figure out he is into you. He keeps being more and more blatant about it as time goes on and finds it hilarious when you keep getting flustered and try to reason away more and more romantic scenarios. He's at a party with you, showing you off to everyone and telling people how long you've been together. "We're going on about two months now, would you say that's correct, kitten?"

"Two months...yeah?"

"You sound unsure."

"Wait. Are we dating?"

"I like to think so."

"So you have been flirting this entire time! I wasn't crazy!"

"Give the kitten a prize. She finally figured it out."

"I'd ask why you didn't say anything but I feel I already know the answer. You're an ass."

"And I'm yours. Now how about we leave early and I can give you your prize in privacy?"

[lizzybeeee]

The Lucanis vs Illario story would have had greater emotional depth/intrigue if the writers didn't water down how fucked up the Crows are as an organization.

Just some thoughts about how, out of all the side villains, Illario had some great potential to be a really interesting/tragic character in my opinion.

TL;DR: Zevran Aranai has a knife with Caterina's name on it for good reason and Lucanis/Illario need therapy...or whatever the Thedas equivalent is called...talking to Rook, I dunno

Going into DATV as a new player, or even as a returning one, the whitewashing of the Crows has a lot of the potential complexities of that life simply ignored or barely touched upon. The entire 'Illario vs Lucanis' boils down to: Illario seething in the shadows about Lucanis being the 'best boy'™ of the family while Illario is an after thought - which he is.

Let's be real, Illario is not subtle and immediately comes across as the Scar to Lucanis' 'Mufasa'. It's a questline with a very straightforward villain who has pretty lackluster motivations from what info we're provided - being 'I want power and to be the First Talon'. The game does very little explore what motivations he may have beyond being jealous of Lucanis/wanting more power.

However, if you play the quest line knowing what previous games have set up about the Crows - about how cutthroat and brutal the life is behind the glamour - then you can see that the entire Lucanis vs Illario conflict has amazing potential to be a dramatic tragedy.

We've seen how the life of Crow can affect Zevran - someone who was sold into the life through child-slavery. How interesting would it be to see how the life of a Crow can affect someone who was born into it? It's pretty clear in-game that Caterina intends for her grandchildren to carry on the family tradition - despite the fact that this 'family tradition' has likely led to the deaths of most of her grandchildren and however many children she had.

If there's banter about how Illario's/Lucanis' parents/cousins died specifically I haven't heard it, but the impression I got in-game was that it was likely linked to the Crows/politics in some way? Feel free to correct me! Still majorly fucked up that she pushes her grandsons into this life regardless!

Lucanis/Illario's situation was not like Zevran's - who was sold into the Crow's through slavery, with no one to speak up for him. Caterina was a woman who had power, who knew what the life of a Crow meant, and who still pushed those she 'loved' into it because is consolidated her place in the system. For all the Crows talk of 'family' Caterina doesn't seem to give a shit about them unless if they're contributing to the family business in some way - not to mention the whole 'you fail and we kill you' clause of being a Crow in the first place.

In the 'Wigmaker Job' from Tevinter Nights Lucanis talks about how Caterina hit him [also Illario] with her cane for mistakes and had him spend days without food/water. How he used to hate her but now 'realizes' that it was her way of ensuring he survived the life of being an Antivan Crow. Did it end up protecting them? It likely pushed them both to refine their skills out of fear. It's likely that simply by association with her they would be targets and thus needed to know how to take care of themselves and fight.

But why have him as a Crow in the first place? Why not simply train them well to defend themselves? You can't deny that she doesn't benefit from having her grandchildren in the family business - intentionally wanting Lucanis to take over her position as First Talon. The Antivan Crows are a force to be reckoned with and being one brings a whole lot of power in Antiva - being part of the elite of that group even more so.

If the game showed us the ugly reality of the Crows - the brutality of the lifestyle and how cutthroat the organization is, it could have really added some depth to Illario's betrayal - having it be more than "I want more power/respect" to "this is the result of what you taught me was valuable in life."

Warden: "Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?" Zevran: "And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at."

Illario, bitter about Caterina favoring Lucanis - resentful of the fact that she has already decided that Lucanis will be her successor, being offered power by the Venatori (at the expense of the Crows) and accepting because why not? How different is it from what the Crows do? Isn't power and status the whole point of working yourself up in the Crows? Getting into a relationship with Zara because why not? Isn't sex part of the allure of being a Crow? Why can't he have this? Why shouldn't he have this?

Rook: "When we met, it didn't seem like Illario and Caterina were close." Lucanis: "It was hard to be close to her. Even for me. And...I was her favorite."

Why would he have connections to his family? Why should he? Caterina certainly never seemed to value 'family' beyond what they could do for her and their family legacy. Most of his family is already dead, and of those that remain the only parental figure he has obviously favors Lucanis. We don't have a lot of evidence in-game to show that Illario ever really cared for Lucanis, but the prequel story 'The Wake' and Lucanis' own banter imply that they were practically brothers, best friends. Perhaps he did care and then ceased to at some point, perhaps he didn't at all, or perhaps he accepted that an early death for them both was inevitable like everyone else in their family. Dead now or later - what was the difference? At least if Illario sells him out now to the Venatori then he'll get something from it instead of another dead family member to bury.

It's the tragic result of raising a child in an environment where he was taught and experienced the need for self-preservation at all costs. Constantly threatened, punished, and made well aware of that fact that his life was an expendable commodity. Then, when things in the world went to shit he picked the only option that made sense to him. To save himself.

The irony of the potential fall of the Crows, the fall of House Dellamorte, coming at the hands of one of their own - not because he had a change of heart but because he was taught too well by them. The Crows view those that fail them as disposable, someone to be discarded - if the Crows fail Illario, what is to stop him from applying that mindset to them?

But this would require the writers to acknowledge how messed up the Crows are and we can't do that to our 'Noble Freedom Fighters'™. They'll also need to address Zevran's existence and what lore was established in past games...and we can't have that either lmao.

[burntsaltsblog]

i didn't know - billy butcher x reader

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details: set in season three. you find out that butcher took a dose of tempt v and you're highly pissed<3

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"Who the fuck gave it to you?" I demanded as I threw down my bag and headed straight to Butcher, seated in the back of the boy's office. Frenchi, MM, Hughie, and Kimiko were gathered around him but quickly dispersed upon my sudden arrival. Their eyes were trained on me as I came to stand in front of Butcher, who stared at the floor, avoiding my angry gaze.

Silence wrapped around the room, and I looked at each member of the group after realizing no one was going to answer me.

"I said, who the fuck gave it to you," I seethed through gritted teeth.

"Je ne sais pas, Mademoiselle. Perhaps Monsieur Boucher had a mental breakdown. I heard mid-life crises are quite common in men his age," Frenchie replied, trying to cut the tension with a joke. But I wasn't in the mood. My head whipped in his direction, and my eyes widened in warning. Frenchie backed up slowly and held his hands up in surrender, apologizing quietly.

"Will ya put your bloody claws away? I ain't dying," Butcher said, finally deciding to speak up.

I immediately crouched in front of him and placed my hands on either side of his jaw, turning his head back and forth. "No, but you could have," I muttered, examining him closely. I took notice of the dried blood that caked his face, and my brows creased in concern.

"S'not mine," he whispered.

"Doesn't matter. You still look like shit."

I returned to a standing position, and Butcher looked up at me as he placed his hands over his heart mockingly. "Aw, love, ya flatter me."

My face remained hardened. "It doesn't matter that it isn't your blood because your pupils are blown, the bags under your eyes are the darkest I've ever seen, and if your pulse gets any quicker, you'll have a heart attack. Taking the tempt V was the dumbest shit you've ever done. And that says a lot, considering it's you we're talking about."

"Ok, we're gonna give you guys some space," MM interrupted. I didn't bother acknowledging him and listened as everyone filed out of the room while I kept my eyes on Butcher. This was not an argument I was going to back down from.

After the office door shut softly, Butcher sighed deeply, dragging his hands down his face. "I didn't mean for ya to find out this way."

"You mean that you didn't intend for me to find out at all," I corrected.

"Fuck, doll. Course, I wanted to tell ya. I was waiting for the right opportunity-"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure it was incredibly difficult to find the perfect moment to tell me that you were using an illegal and deadly substance. It's not like you're my boyfriend or boss, who I see every fucking day." Sarcasm laced my tone, and I pivoted away, needing to calm my continuously rising anger.

"Well, now that ya mention it, love, it was a little tricky, considering Mauve only gave it to me last night."

My breath hitched, and I slowly turned back to face Butcher. "Since when did you start having secret meet-ups with Mauve at night?"

"The meet-ups ain't a secret."

"Well, they sure were to me!"

Butcher rose to his feet and stepped forward with a hand extended. "S'not like it sounds. She stops by when she finds tabs on some of the supes we're chasing. Her info has been why we've caught so many of the cunts the past few months."

I nodded my head as I laughed humorlessly. "I'm glad she's been so helpful. Thanks to her, the streets are safer, and you're hooked on something that could potentially threaten your life." I began pacing the floor, my body's way of trying to rid itself of the intense anxiety. "I mean. fuck, Butcher. We've seen what that poison does to adults. There's a reason why it only works on newborns. And I can't fucking believe that you take that shit without even telling me."

I stopped pacing to look at Butcher before continuing. "How did you even know it would work?"

His silence confirmed what I had feared the moment I found out he had injected the tempt V into his veins when Hughie admitted it over the phone.

"You didn't, did you? You didn't know if it would work, yet you took it anyway. Not giving a damn if you were injured or died as a result."

Butcher bowed his head before saying lowly, "If I'm on the same level as these supe cunts, then they have nothing over me. It's a fair fight. One I could win."

"I'm all for killing the fuckers, but that doesn't involve you dying in the process."

"But if that's what it takes, then it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

I stood, stunned, as tears stung my eyes. I stared at Butcher with my mouth parted and heart aching as the realization hit me. "You don't get it, do you?" I asked quietly. My voice threatened to waver, and I harshly sank my teeth into my lower lip to subdue the emotions crawling up my throat. "If something happened to you, do you have any idea what that would do to me?" My voice broke that time, and concern filled Butcher's face.

He started toward me, but I put my hands up as I let the tears fall freely down my face. "I love you so much that if you died, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I couldn't fucking live. And I know you don't have any self-preservation instincts, but you'll have to find some. Because if you die, Billy Butcher, I swear to God, I'm going with you."

Butcher charged forward this time and pulled me into his chest as my tears fell quicker. I gasped for air and clutched the collar of his shirt as his strong arms wrapped around my body, crushing me to him. His lips grazed my forehead as he shushed me softly. "S'ok, love. I've gotcha."

He kept repeating the same phrase as he slowly rocked me back and forth. When my breathing slowed, Butcher pulled back and cradled my head in his calloused hands. His eyes traced the details of my face, taking in my bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I didn't know, doll. M'sorry," he mumbled as he used a thumb to catch a stray tear.

"You didn't know how much I love you?" I asked. My voice came out horse and strained.

He shook his head. "I didn't know how much my death would affect ya. I-" he hesitated before tilting my face up so I could meet his lips in a kiss. It was slow and deep, displaying the love we both felt for one another.

When we parted, Butcher rested his forehead against mine. "M'not used to having someone care about me. After Becca left, I was on me own, and for years, my only priority was killing every fuckin' supe cunt that I came across, no matter the price." He shook his head. "M'so sorry, sweetheart. If I'd known it would do this to ya, I never woulda touched that fucking supe venom, I swear."

I wordlessly pressed my face back against Butcher's chest and breathed in his comforting scent of mint, nicotine, and whiskey. His arms rewound around my waist, and I closed my eyes, wanting to memorize the way his body felt against mine. How safe I felt when he held me like this.

"Promise me, Billy," I whispered as I pulled back to look into his face. "Promise me that you won't touch that shit again. And if you want to do something that drastic, talk to me first." My fingers fiddled with a button on his shirt as my eyes drifted away from his stare. "I need you, Billy," I whispered so quietly I wasn't even sure if he heard me.

Butcher placed a finger underneath my chin and tilted my head so I would look back up at him. "I promise ya, love, with everything I have, that I won't pull some shit like that again. You have my word."

I nodded as my hands found their way into his hair and tugged his lips back down to mine. "Thank you, Billy. I love you."

"I love ya too, doll."

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[ghoastixx]

you know the episode French Mistake? What if Dean and Sam get sent to the real world and find out their sister is dating someone else in the cast? Like Misha? Idk I just came up with this

The French Mistake

synopsis above

Notes: I literally LOVE episodes that I just get to copy the show and throw little old us in. It's so fun to write. I loved writing the mystery spot one, hoping this one is just as fun.

Author's note: Wasn't sure if you wanted the reader to be transported with sam and dean or not, but for the sake of this being more interesting to read and not just an episode of Supernatural, you get to teleport too. Made the reader Gender Neutral. R/N stands for "real name"

Warning: Spoilers for the end of The Godfather. Cas (Misha Collins) x reader kind of?????????)

For the sake of legality, I do not own the universe, plot, or characters of Supernatural. I am a mere fanficiton author.

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It was a nice afternoon..quiet..not a hunt for once.. a minute to breathe. You were sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Bobby. Dean was at the table, Bobby out and about. Sam walked into the room.

"Where's Bobby?"

"Supply run," You yawned, responding to your brother Sam.

"In this?" Ah yes, the disaster you were in. You had almost forgotten. A shame you hadn't. Dean turned to look at your brother,

"Yeah, man's a hero. We were officially out of hunter's helper." The alcohol had run dry.

"Hello Winchester's. You've seen 'The Godfather' right?" A voice that didn't belong to any of you pulled you away from the dry conversation.

"Balthazar."

"You know the end, where Micheal Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big, bloody swoop?" Balthazar was now messing with things. Pouring salt into a bowl on one of Bobby's desks. You sat up, ultimately confused as your brothers were seething.

"Hey!' Dean yelled,

"'Dead Sea Brine.' Good, good, good. You know, Moe Green gets it in the eye, and Don Cueno gets it in the revolving door?" what was even happening.

"I said 'hey!'"

"You did. Twice. Good for you." Balthazar started going through the fridge. "Blood of lamb.. beer, cold pizza, blood of lamb- yes! blood of lamb!"

You perked up, "Why are you talking about 'The Godfather?'"

"Because we're in it- right now, tonight. And in the role of Micheal Corleone- the archangel Raphael!"

"You mind telling us what you mean?" Dean barked

"no, no, no, no, no, no no." You rolled your eyes. "Yes. Bone of a lesser saint. This vertebra will do very nicely. You're Mr.Singer does keep a beautiful pantry." You looked down at the contents of Bobby's drawer which was now on the floor.

"Raphael is after you?" Dean asked. Sam was awfully quiet."

"Raphael is after all of us." He corrected, ""You see. he's consolidated his strength, and now he's on the move."

"And where's Cas?" Sam finally asked, which grabbed your attention. You missed the angel. He was your friend.

"Oh, Cassie? He is deep, deep underground. So, good old Raffy put out a hit list on every Samaritan who helped our dear Cas- including both of you. And so much more importantly, me. See, he wants to draw Cas out into the open." This made you frown. The thought of Cas having basically ruined his life.

"And you expect us just to believe you?" Sam asked, "Oh. Don't. You'll go where I throw you either way."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean was defensive and Sam was tense. You were trying to piece everything together.

"That's all the time we have Winchesters." He opened his jacket to reveal a wound.. he was bleeding pretty badly. You jumped up to retrieve the first aid kit, or more so what was left of it. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

There was some commotion behind you before there was a blinding light and the words that would ring through your ears "RUN." You were shoved through a window with your brothers.

When you opened your eyes it was so bright.. "Cut!" Suddenly there were people helping you up. Dean and Sam were also up and looked equally as confused. You looked over to see someone patting Dean's ass which made you cringe. You looked around. it looked like a t.v set of Bobby's house.

"Jared, Jensen, R/N! Outstanding! That was just great!" The Winchesters all looked at each other with shared confusion which made others around you giggle.

"'Supernatural,' scene one echo, take one. Tail slate. Marker!"

"What happened," Sam muttered, looking around.

"No angels?" You mumble

"No angels." Dean confirms. "I think."

There were people arguing about a scene, about how they 'jumped through the window.'

"What is even happening," You ask out loud,

"No idea." Sam replies. Dean picks up a piece of "window" which is really just fake. The other people keep arguing.

"Jared! Three minutes, okay!" Someone grabbed Sam by the hand, dragging him away.

"Jensen! There you are, let's get you in the chair." Someone drags Dean away.

"R/N," A voice came from behind one of the cameras. A man in a cardigan and a t-shirt underneath. He came up to you, smiling wide. "that was a really good shot, honey. Whenever everyone was reminiscing on Cas? Real heart tugger."

"Cas..?" This man looked so much like..well. A normal Castiel.

"yeah- are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head during the stunt?" You then spotted Sam.

"Uh- I have to go!"

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"Dude, they put freakin' makeup on us! Those Bastards!" Dean complained, practically clawing at his skin.

"Look, I think I know what this is,"

"Okay. What?"

"It itches-"

"It's a T.V. show-" As Sam and Dean pondered, you couldn't help but glance at the "normal Cas" that was talking to one of the guys.. this was.. awful.

"We- we landed in some dimension where you're Jensen Ackles." He pointed at Dean. "You're R/N" He points at you. "And I'm Jared Padalecki,"

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The three exited the studio, you looked around in awe as Dean spotted the car.

"Oh, hey. Least my baby made it." You looked over to witness someone flinging mud onto it and the pained look on your brother's face.

"Hey. Hey! What-" There are three more impalas. "I'm gonna be sick. I want to go home. I feel like this whole place is bad-touching me." You nod in agreement as Sam agrees.

"yeah, I know. Me too. So, what do you think? Cas?"

You perk up, "Oh! I talked to a guy who looked like him earlier." You start to look around,

"So he's run his ass away from heaven here?" Dean spots him.

"cas? Cas! Hey, Cas! Oh, thank god. What is all this, huh? W-what did Balthazar do to us?"

The man you spoke to earlier approached, he looks stern. Like the Castiel you know. It made something in your chest tighten. "To keep you out of Virgil's reach, he's cast you into an alternate reality, a universe similar to ours in most aspects yet dramatically different in others."

"Like- like Bizarro earth, right? Except instead of having Bizarro Superman, we get this clown factory." The Cas looks a little confused.

"Um...Yeah, well...Anyway, no time to explain. Do you have the key?" You tilt your head, but Sam pulls out a key.

"So, uh, what does this thing do, anyways?"

"It opens a room."

"What's in this room?" You ask

"Every weapon Balthazar stole from heaven."

"he gave it to us?" Dean asks, almost hesitantly.

"To keep it safe until I could reach you. With those weapons, I have a chance to rally my forces."

You sigh relief, "Oh. Okay. good. Yeah, so now.. uh, what's the deal with all this T.V. crap?" Sam asks, a bit annoyed.

"pardon?" The Cas's brow furrows

"Yeah. Amen, Padaleski." You nod as Dean says this.

"Uh, 'Lecki'" Sam corrects.

"What?" Dean mutters,

"Lecki. Pretty sure."

The Cas pulled out a packet of papers, "Man. Did they put out new pages?" He mutters.

"New what?"

"I mean, is this some kind of cosmic joke?" You ask the Cas who looks up at you with an almost hurt expression.

"yeah, 'cause if it is, it's stupid and we don't get it." Dean backed you up. Sam agreed.

"Are you guys okay?" The Castiel imposter asked. Dean grabbed the supposed script from him, flipping through it.

"Give me that. What is- these are words in a script. This isn't Cas." You chest tightens again as hope drains from your face.

"Dude, look at him." Sam mumbles as the imposter unbuttons his shirt, wearing a graphic t-shirt underneath it.

"You guys want to run lines, or..?"

Dean reads the script. "His name's Misha..Misha?"

"Oh wow.."

"Just great-" The imposter looks at you again, he's only looking at you with these mixed expressions of deeper confusion. Dean continues rambling.

"Misha? Jensen? R/N? Whats up with the names around here?" As soon as Dean says this, "Misha" laughs a bit.

"You guys! You really punked me! Im totally gonna tweet this one." He pulls out a phone.

"What's a tweet," You whisper-ask Sam as "Misha" starts to read out loud.

"Hola mishamigos. J-squared...got me good."

"I just want to dig my finger in my brain and scratch until we're back in Kansas."

All three Winchesters begin to walk away before "Misha" yells. "Hold on, R/N! Are you still on for dinner tonight!?" You feel your cheeks start to red a bit as Dean and Sam look at you.

"Er- might have to reschedule-" You yell back as you turn away and quickly leave.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You all huddled into "Jensen Ackles" trailer. He had awful taste.. you all began to do research on yourselves. Jensen and Jared are interesting. Models and TV stars. They get to you.

"R/N.. Says here that you.. you were an actor. Also-" Sam looks up, glancing at Dean and then back at you. "You're also dating a Misha Collins." Your jaw drops.

"No way! Fake Cas!?" Dean exclaims, "That's probably why he asked you about dinner-" You bury your face in your hands. Sam clears his throat.

"Y/N, is there something you have to tell us..?"

"No!"

As Dean and Sam continue to talk about how they could possibly get out of here, you take the computer.. looking at pictures of you and Misha.. you two look happy together.. your chest tightens again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were all losing hope as everything you tried was failing. All the ingredients Balthazar had used were now rubber.. the Impala was a prop.. nothing was working. So now you were trying to figure out what to do next.

"Me? Yes. um. I- I'll just tag along with uh-" Dean stuttered around. Misha and a crew member where standing in front of you.

"Jared."

"Jared...Jared here."

"Huh- since when are you guys talking?" The crew member asks as Misha looks at you,

"So..busy tonight?" You bite the frown that wants to crawl onto your face. You would like to have dinner with him, but you cannot just abandon your brothers for a man you don't even know.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Gonna work with Jared and..Jensen."

"I didn't know you guys were getting along again."

"Ah- you know...the way we are.."

"Well, call me if you need me to come get you," He kissed your cheek before leaving. You glanced at Sam and Dean as your face was red.

"I'll kill him." Dean muttered.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out Jared is filthy rich and is dating Ruby of all people. She seems a bit surprised to see you and Dean in the mansion. Saying neither of you have ever been there. She seems.. defensive. You all hole up in the library of the mansion and order stuff you need. The next day, you all go to the set of Bobby's house with a solution in mind and get permission to have the set cleared for a few hours.

When you and Sam show up to see cameras, you almost wanna vomit as Dean looks sheepishly away. He did not infect get the set cleared and the Misha guy was back. So.. you all have to do a little bit of acting. You're all awful at it.

Hours seemed to have passed and the Misha guy is still "tweeting" whatever that is. Then the day is over and you're all sent away again.. That was after you all attacked what you thought was Virgil.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the experience was all hazy to you. The Misha guy had ended up taking you back to your trailer and giving you some pills and that was all you really remembered. Sam and dean tried to explain how you got back, but it didn't make much sense to you. Not that you cared much anymore. There were more important things to focus on!

But Dean and Sam never let go the Misha guy, insisting something was going on between you and Castiel. You insisted there wasn't...

But..maybe the next time you saw Castiel..maybe you could pretend he was the Misha guy for just a minute longer.

(I'm sorry this ended so abruptly and lame. I worked on this for two hours and honestly didn't know how to finish it I'm sorry!!!)

[verdantlights]

CLOVE: LOG 6

TIME: ???

tws: misgendering, panic attacks

Green: Clove

Blue: Lyra ( @alien-til-i-stage ), Aster (only in name, @apriciticreveries )

Orange: [REDACTED]

Pink: [REDACTED]

"Something's wrong with her eye. She's blind in her right eye, correct?"

"Yes. Her eye was eaten away at by a parasite a long time ago. She has brain damage because of it. She's prone to seizures."

"Epileptic?"

"Affirmative."

"That's not all though, right? There's something in her eye. Did they ever get the parasite out?"

"Yes, the object in her eye is not a living organism. It's an implant."

"To help her see?"

"No. She's... we'll talk about this later."

"Ah. Alright then. What about her x-rays?"

"They healed incorrectly and seem to have been fractured and broken multiple times. It seems she was greatly mistreated by her owner."

"By the Great Anakt... are you sure you want to keep her? With all of these issues, she'll just be dead weight."

"No, she's one of them. We need her."

"You don't mean..."

"Yes. I do."

"Fuck... who's her owner? Did they know this girl was...?"

"Uh-... possibly? Any mention of her previous owner was wiped from her files. We'll ask her when she's conscious."

"Whoever her owner is, they're about to know what Old Earth Hell looks like."

"Got that right."

.

.

.

What... am I?

♧

The lights hurt my head. It's too bright in here.

"Ah, she's awake. Get her vitals."

"Wh-"

The boy on the mattress is sent into a coughing fit after trying to speak. A worker with a pink buzz-cut rushes over to his side to sit him up and stabilize him.

"Please don't speak yet, you're not stable. Lyra, go get her some water."

Another staff member, Lyra, runs out of the room and returns quickly with an unopened bottle of water. She opens it and pours it into a sterile plastic cup for Clove to drink out of.

The water soothes his throat. It's cold and tastes amazing. The best water he's ever had, really.

"I'm-" he clears his throat, "Uh- I'm a boy."

The three staff members all look at him weirdly, looking back and forth between themselves and Clove. It seems to click for one of them, a foxlike man with short and messy ginger hair, because it almost looks like you can see the proverbial lightbulb appear above his head, "Ah! You identify as a boy? Like me?"

Clove lights up a little bit at the notion of someone like him, and nods.

"Okay, we'll write that down in your new file, any... preferred name?"

Clove shakes his head, "I want to keep Clove. It's all I have left of my siblings."

At the mention of his siblings, the room becomes extremely heavy.

"You have siblings? There's more of them??"

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it [REDACTED], it's not a genetics thing. None of her- his siblings should have it."

Everyone besides Clove breathes a sigh of relief.

"Is... there something I should kn- wait why am I alive?"

The belated realization that he is, in fact, alive, makes the navy-haired woman who handed him the water giggle, "The guard who shot you purposefully avoided any fatal points."

Tears spring to his left eye, "I... I wanted to die! I don't want to be here I want to be with Aster and my siblings- I-"

The pity on her face makes him seethe. He turns away and wipes his face. The silence in the room is stifling and awkward.

"We... can't let that happen. We're sorry."

"WHY!? What the fuck is so important about me that I have to be kept alive in this- this-" he looks around the room frantically, "WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!"

"Please- Clove-"

"NO!! I WANT TO- I need-! I-!" He grabs onto the sleeve of Lyra's arm and chokes down a sob. He can't fight his tears. The area around his right eye hurts. There are no tears there.

Instead of restraining him or trying to put him to sleep, Lyra wraps her arms around Clove and tugs him close to her chest.

"We'll let you get some rest, but before that... can we ask who your previous owner was? The one who... hurt you?"

"I-Ignis. He- uh. I don't remember why but he, um-" he stumbles through his words as he tries to remember why Ignis abandoned him, "I remember him... something about me being one of... something... and that he... he- I..."

"That's enough information, don't worry. What did Ignis look like, can you tell us?"

Clove could feel his brain shutting down, this usually happens after he has panic attacks or seizures. His speech becomes slurred and he ends up fainting.

"Huhmm... Fire..."

And then he was out like a light, still being held by Lyra.

♧

"We have to get his new file ready, right? Did those old fools at ANAKT wipe him or did they send it over?"

"They wiped him, so we don't have his ID."

"Would he remember it?"

"I don't think so, we'll see."

hi lol, pink and orange are areph nurse ocs that are WIPS

@ivanttakethis @apple8ees @chevalperd @bluemoonscape @rockwgooglyeyes @nottoonedin @starry-skiez @junebluues @awaggaa

[cultofdarkwood]

If you're still taking requests, then I guess as a rare pair since I know you've gotten a ton of leshycat, could I request some lambmura please?

ngl this one stumped me for a min but i think i got a good idea bear with me. i LOVE writing shamura so much, it was really fun to figure out them and the lamb's dynamic.

(as a note, shamura is wearing the purple version of the mystic robes, bc thats what i have them dressed with in game!!)

-

The halls of Shamura's temple were cold and dark, empty save for the clop of lamb hooves and dragging spider silk. Occasionally, the patter and click of spider paws and claws would approach, only to be swiftly dealt with by the sword the lamb held in their hand.

"How much further?" they asked their companion, almost whining. The tall spider towering behind them only gave them a look.

"Not much," Shamura replied, sweeping the purple of their robes up to avoid snagging on a pile of bones. Their head was draped in a spider silk veil, wrapped tightly around their scarred wound and hovering with a loose flutter over their top set of eyes. They spoke with clarity, but the lamb could see in their eyes an uncertainty that even they weren't sure of the distance.

"We're lost," the lamb accused, the red eye of their sword fixed on the spider.

"Do not be absurd," Shamura said. "I am simply familiarizing myself with my temple once more."

"Which is your way of saying we're lost," the lamb nearly seethed, sighing and crossing their arms. Their sword changed its shape and returned to their head as the Red Crown. "Shamura, be totally honest with me. Do you remember which way the library is?"

"Archives," Shamura corrected instantly. "Libraries are for browsing. Archives are for record keeping. And none are allowed to enter my archives but me."

"And me," the lamb said, giving the spider a firm, slanted glare. "Because there's no way I'm letting you go in there alone. You'll get lost."

"A bold assumption to make, that I would not know my own archives like the backs of my hands," Shamura said, their eyes narrowed with the barest hint of a warning.

"In your head," the lamb clarified, taking their sword from their head to slice through a giant, thin spider web that covered the large, arching doorway they passed beneath. "Lost in your head. I would never be able to find you and get you out of there."

"I am starting to tire of being used against myself," Shamura hissed under their breath.

"Heket asked me," the lamb said, moving to step ahead of the spider. "She asked me specifically not to let you go in there alone. Told me that you'd literally get lost in there for years while your disciples ran your cult."

Shamura said nothing at that, the silence its own concession.

"Oh, this looks like it," the lamb said, stopping in front of a large, grand door. Reaching for one of the handles, the lamb hissed and retracted their hand when a barrier of magic sprung up to burn them. When they glanced at the Red Crown, it gave them no answers. "Well, fuck. Shamura, why did your door bite me?"

"It requires-" the spider began, before pausing. Their features twitched into a frown, and they gave the lamb a look. "It requires a password."

"Well?" the lamb asked, gesturing to the door. Shamura sighed and stepped close.

They murmured in a foreign tongue, a language the lamb could not understand. Slowly, the hum of magic that protected the door began to fade. When it was gone, Shamura stepped closer and reached for the handle. Though the doors were large, they easily pulled one open.

"If you insist on coming in with me, my only rule is this," they said, curt and to the point. "Do not touch anything. Do not look at anything. And do not wander off."

"That's three rules," the lamb pointed out. Shamura nodded despite that.

"And you will follow all of them," they said, before making their way inside the archives. "For the safety of my records, and your own."

The lamb rolled their eyes, dismissing their sword and following the spider inside.

Shamura's archives were dark, and when the doors shut behind them, they were shrouded in pitch black. Shamura continued walking, unbothered by this, but the lamb promptly fumbled and tripped.

A hand caught their arm, and the Red Crown brightened enough to see Shamura keeping them from falling. The spider looked down at the lamb, their face carved from the shadows with red light. The mandibles that protruded from their mouth clicked in amusement.

"Careful, little lamb," Shamura said, pulling them upright.

Embarrassed, the lamb nodded, and Shamura released their arm. The spider led the way, navigating the darkness with ease while the lamb was forced to hurry and stay close by the light of the Red Crown alone.

Shamura clearly knew the archives well, going straight to a specific section with no trouble. What they did not know was the exact location of the knowledge they sought, and thus, the lamb could only sit on the floor and wait while the spider searched through the shelves.

Two hours in, the lamb pushed themself to their feet. "I'm gonna go stretch my legs," they said. Shamura, now seated and surrounded by books and scrolls, gave a soft hum, but did not raise their head.

Two minutes later, the lamb was lost. They swore they only turned one corner, but when they returned to where they thought they had left Shamura, the spider and their pile of knowledge were gone. Retracing their steps and trying a different way back didn't work either.

"Shamura?" they called out through the darkness, but there was no answer. Sighing, they lifted their hands, groaning and dragging them down their face. "Fuuuck, okay. Shit. How do you find a spider in a huge, creepy, dark-"

The air shifted behind them, and they summoned their sword, turning on instinct to block the clanging strike. With its form changed, the Red Crown could not give off as much light, but what little it did revealed Shamura, the blade of an axe scraping the sword of the Red Crown. Shamura's eyes were clouded and unfocused.

"Fuck," the lamb said. Shamura pulled the axe away and promptly kicked them square in the chest.

The air was struck from their lungs as they flew backwards, hitting the ground hard and rolling. Their sword clattered to the ground somewhere, and they lay in the pitch black, trying to catch their breath. A presence crouched over them, a knee pinning their forearm to the ground by their side.

"How did you get in here?"

"Shamura," the lamb said, flexing the fingers of their free hand. The Red Crown was taking its sweet time to return to them. "Shamura, it's me, come on-

The blade of the axe cut into the ground by their head, and the body pinning theirs shifted, warm breath caressing the lamb's face.

"How did you get in here," the spider enunciated, their voice hard. "And who are you?"

"Shamura, it's me," the lamb said, a tinge of desperation leaking into their voice as they reached for the Red Crown again. The sword returned to their hand, only for Shamura to grab their wrist and pin it too. "Shamura, it's me, it's the lamb, we're trying to find something, remember? Heket asked me to come with you!"

At the mention of Heket, Shamura's grip slackened, and the lamb pulled their arm free once more. The Red Crown returned to their head, brightening their surroundings and revealing Shamura's dark eyes. Now bathed in red light, the spider's eyes glimmered with incorrect recognition.

"The Red Crown," they murmured, their voice hard and their body tensing. Their gaze slid from it to the face of the lamb, tightening with fury.

In that split second before Shamura did anything, the lamb rushed to think. They couldn't physically attack the ex god of war, not like this. Their curse was a fire curse, which would've been out too even if it didn't come with the immediate risk of Shamura separating their head from their body (if not for the attack, then for setting fire to their archives). They were pinned, and Shamura was out of their own head, lost in time, back when they were a Bishop and the lamb was their enemy.

Unable to think of anything else that would help them get out of here without Shamura murdering them, the lamb did something stupid. With their free hand, they grasped the purple of Shamura's robes and pulled the spider down into a kiss.

Shamura tensed in surprise, struggling against their grip, but the lamb held on. Desperate, they kissed the spider so hard that the fangs that protruded from Shamura's mouth sliced through the flesh of their lips. The tang of iron and the taste of blood flooded their senses, but they held on, jamming their mouth against the spider's own.

Shamura shifted, and suddenly their pinned arm was free. As they lifted it to grasp onto Shamura's shoulder, an arm slid beneath their back, hoisting them flush against a war toned chest. Now, they were being kissed back.

When they parted, the lamb was relieved to see that the proper sort of recognition and clarity had returned to Shamura's eyes.

"Lamb," they said, their voice heavy. "You're bleeding."

"That is your fault, you bit me," the lamb retorted, now sitting up with their hands firm on Shamura's shoulders. "Where the fuck did- do you just keep weapons in here? Where the fuck did you get an axe?"

Shamura looked to where the axe was stuck in the ground, wincing. "That would be one of my old ceremonial axes," they muttered, reaching for the handle. "My apologies, lamb."

The lamb sighed, wiping the blood that flowed down their chin. "It's fine, Shamura. Did you at least find the damn thing we came in here for?"

Carefully, Shamura helped the lamb to their feet, wrenching their axe out of the ground with a twitching crack of wood. From within their robes, they pulled a wrapped, tightly bound scroll. "This is it, I believe."

"Thank fuck." The lamb sighed, dropping their forehead onto Shamura's shoulder. "Can we go?"

"Of course," Shamura said, tilting their head down at the lamb. "I will need to return my axe to its case, first. Might I assume that we will discuss what happened here back within the safety of your cult?"

"Oh, haha! That!" The lamb laughed, pushing themself away from Shamura. "Yeah, um, we can totally, just don't tell Heket."

"Tell her what?" Shamura asked, a glimmer of amusement in their eyes. "That you left me alone in my archives, or that you-"

"Okay, time to go!" With an embarrassed haste to their actions, the lamb grabbed Shamura by the hand and began to drag them through the archives. Shamura only laughed.

[dark-night-star-light]

Things in Spirit Animals that piss me off:

Abeke and her father making up. He's abusive to her her entire life and then he suddenly makes up with her because she's a hero now? Wow, well, wonder where that change of heart came from. I do indeed wonder. It drives the idea that you should forgive family for everything because they are family. Where did my found family themes go? What about Rollan and Tarik?

Lord MacDonnell not getting what was coming for him. The guy sucks. He's horrible, I don't care if he's on the good guys' side. In fact, it makes the story more complex that he's on the good guys' side. I quite like that, actually. Lord MacDonnell was a good addition to add to the nuance of the Greencloaks not being the source of supreme good all the time. Proves how low the Greencloaks are willing to stoop to get allies to defeat the Conquerors, shows how desperate they are. Rollan literally seethes with rage at him during their last encounter in Hunted. Then suddenly he's fine with him in later books because he's on the Greencloaks' side? Rollan joining the Greencloaks eventually makes sense. Rollan immediately forgiving all the Greencloaks' allies for everything ever because of joining the Greencloaks does not. Look, I understand that in fiction, people can be bad people, have the audience understand they are bad people, and still not get what they deserve. I get it. (That's actually what happens with the Lord of Trunswick. He actually gets a semi-happy ending. But it's made explicitly clear in every possible way that he absolutely sucks and did not deserve that ending whatsoever.) But that doesn't change the fact that the whole narrative about MacDonnell shifts in the later books in order to make him out to be some sort of hero. And that harpist never gets justice.

I like that Kirat got character development. Look, I really do. But doing it by telling the kid that he's related to a hero was not the way to go. Please. What was that. Again, it drives home very family-defines-who-you-are vibes which I am not a fan of.

The two legendary bond tokens being lost to sea. Please, what the hell was that. And everyone just accepts it? Why. It couldn't have been difficult to write in a single paragraph, nay, a single sentence in the last chapter expositing that the Greencloaks searched the sea and found them eventually. Please, what is this.

Conor's entire personality changing in The Dragon's Eye. That was not character development. That was character assassination. I honestly would've been down for Conor ending up the way he is in The Dragon's Eye, but it needs to happen over the course of several books, not off-page between the last and second-to-last book.

Rollan and Meilin's jealousy and miscommunication arc in Stormspeaker. Despised it. It was vile, and ruined everything I love about them. Thankfully, we go back to normal Reilin in The Dragon's Eye. So at least we didn't finish their relationship on such a horrendous note.

Shane and Devin/Worthy never interacting on page, as far as I am aware. Correct me if I'm wrong. Then, in The Wildcat's Claw, we're given a bunch of lengthy exposition from Worthy talking about how great a leader Shane was and how he taught Worthy to fight and all those other stories. They always felt so empty to me because Shane and Worthy's bond has next to no canon basis whatsoever.

Connecting to the last point, Shane not appearing in Hunted. Perfect opportunity for him to bond with Devin, manipulate him a little, be a disingenuous lying little shit, appear sympathetic toward Abeke while trying to get her back (and failing), then disappear right when times get tough and leave Devin and Karmo stranded in the dungeon. This would give Worthy mixed feelings about Shane, complex-ifying their relationship. Then, before the Redcloaks-are-former-Conquerors reveal, we could see Shane and Worthy fighting side by side. Abeke and Rollan could note their mask designs, which would help identify then as Shane and Worthy later.

The Tergesh not being able to summon spirit animals. Please, what is that nonsense. I hate it. Also, if they can't summon spirit animals because of their existing connection to rhinos, the logic follows that Conor shouldn't be able to summon Briggan because of his existing connection to his sheepdogs. (Although it is interesting to think about an AU where Stetriol gets its hands on this knowledge and tries to use it to their advantage. They start animal shelter programs and such to try to keep people from summoning spirit animals and contracting the bonding sickness.)

How the heck did Meilin's father get his hands on the Bile? How was he convinced to give it to his only daughter? I adore the Meilin-Bile arc, okay, but its origins are kind of a plot hole.

The Wyrm as a villain. You're telling me after all the complexity and nuance we get in the first arc, the second arc's villain is a stereotypical giant blob of fleshy goo that, get this, literally wants to eat the world? Who came up with this? You could argue that the real villain is Zerif, but even then, he's incredibly flat as an antagonist. You could also argue that this is meant to redeem Kovo and Shane, but that also feels weird, as there are almost certainly better ways to do that.

Shane dying right as he was getting redeemed. I'm going to be so honest, I think Shane had to kick the bucket. I love him, but he had to die. But not before he and Abeke could have a proper conversation and get to a better place and have some bonding moments that are full of trust and friendship! Please, what the heck is this?

The other Great Beast summoners getting little to no fleshing out or understanding. By far, the most interesting one is Anuqi. She hates the Greencloaks, and for a valid reason, too. This is literally so interesting. Please, they could've done so much with her during the second arc. Raisha is a close second. Not a fan of the fact that her backstory is literally just "I was a bored rich girl" which apparently voids her of any human compassion, but whatever.

Shane and Zerif's relationship never reaches a good climax. (Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fi-)

What do you mean Abeke didn't kill Zerif? What do you mean? After vowing to, and failing, not once, but twice, Zerif sacrifices himself? Where's the thematic significance in that?

Conor's Wyrm arc. He's next to useless the entire four books, he doesn't do anything of actual value to the quest, and he's treated like a burden the entire time. Honestly, if you hadn't read the first series, you wouldn't even realize he's a main character aside from the fact that he gets a few chapters. He gets very few moments to truly shine in the series. Instead, it should've been Takoda who was infected. It would also strengthen his relationship to Xanthe, because she'd first insist they leave him behind, then she'd grow attached to him and decide to bring him. It gives Xanthe a character conflict between wanting to leave Takoda behind because she's been taught all her life that the Wyrm is the supreme evil and not wanting to leave Takoda because she likes him. It also does the same with Kovo, who has spent his entire existence fighting the Wyrm, only for him to be bonded to someone who's infected. Conor would have more opportunities to act like a real main character. And Takoda has chapters from his perspective, too, so it's not like we couldn't have had some perspective on what it's like to be infected. But Conor is still a primary main character, and he does nothing except hike with the group and cough for the majority of that arc.

Zerif not being at all fleshed out and just being a mustache-twirling, evil-laughing cartoon villain that just wants power.

The bond tokens. Not the concept itself, but the execution. So many of them were just what they could already do, except stronger, and Meilin's didn't even work? Please, what is this.

[groverspeak]

enneagram type ones - a yap-session on the reformer from a reformer

୨୧:🫀 🎧 - as an enneagram type one, I think we're probably one of the rarest, and (often) most misunderstood types. we're seen as hard-asses or too "uptight" and, on paper, that looks about right. but, our motivation and inner thoughts are forgotten. how can you judge us if you don't know us? or know our morals? people fail to see us as humans with true, full emotions- when we are some of the most sensitive types. I think this a crime often done against most "logical" (though I hate using that term) types. shoutout to all my other enneagram type ones, here's a playlist (not by me)!

type title: the Reformer

good qualities: a defined moral code, strong sense of right and wrong. purpose-driven. loyal. dedicated, passionate. honest. direct. idealistic. helpful. conscientious. reliable. discerning. noble. wise. caring. intelligent (but not in a type 5 way). perfectionism to a healthy, moving degree.

fatal flaw: anger. this sounds evil, right? how can a noble, moral individual also struggle with anger? that’s because no fatal flaw is just that word alone, a ones anger isn’t explosive, irrational rage all the time. enneagram ones place all they have into virtue— because of their need to be perfect, morally correct. a ones anger is derived from their other flaws, spurred on by resentment and self-righteousness. “buried anger at self denial”, as the EnneaApp calls it.

negative qualities: critical (to others and self). emotional rigidity. holds themselves and others to very high standards. perfectionism to a toxic degree.

“vice to virtue”: anger to serenity. this can sound confusing, or unrelated— but, the phrase “resentment to serenity” might make a bit more sense. anger to serenity is the process of going from having a preoccupied mind, beating a million miles an hour and full of self-judgement and melancholy to having a mind that understands you can’t be perfect all the time, and entertaining a space of inner peace and self-acceptance.

fictional characters: optimus prime. steve rogers. mary poppins. hermione granger, percy weasley. bruce wayne. spock. mycroft holmes. atticus finch. javert. kate laswell, vladmir makarov.

real-life examples: emma watson. c.s lewis. julie andrews. plato. venus williams. immanual kant. confucius.

motivation: enneagram ones are the crusaders. their goal is to live righteously, be right, and improve the world. this is heavily supported by a one’s strong sense of justice, and strong moral code. they are motivated by a want for a just and morally correct world and environment.

fear: being wrong, evil, or morally corrupt. as well as being incorrect. this is often why one’s are referred to as the “perfectionists.”

how they behave at their worst: because of a one’s strong moral code— if this code becomes impure or corrupt, everything else they do will also be that. like a super villain, almost. overly critical, judgmental. if something goes wrong, they internalize that and it’s immediately imperfect or flawed. they can often become obsessively self-righteous. tend to be incredibly rigid, almost seething and will hyper-fixate on small issues. they become merciless. enneagram ones, when they believe something heavily, know that they are right, they are loyal to their beliefs— if an unhealthy ones beliefs and code are challenged, they become ruthless, almost animalistic.

how they behave at their best: enneagram ones, at their best, can be incredibly compassionate and kind. their wisdom, rationality, and nobility often allows them to reach people further than most types in an honest way, because it aligns with their morality— because they want and long to do and be right and just. they are often consistent. good work-ethic. perfectionism leading into excellence (they excel in what they love). logical, while still remaining human. honest, won’t bullshit you.

what their anger is like: punitive. physical tension in the body. intolerant. wrathful. arrogant.

what their sadness is like: sadness that manifests in the form of frustration. they have a secret level of melancholy and shame. when unhealthy, they disintegrate into an enneagram type 4– being melodramatic, melancholic, self-loathing. though, this isn’t often through an internal-perspective, it can be twisted into looking inward. the inner-critic within them becomes louder, relentless and self-hating. type ones actually have a tendency to be depressed, and will also typically struggle with alcoholism, eating disorders, etc… any disorder or habit that gives them control. this is why OCD is also seen within them. they are often reduced into being cynical.

what sets them apart from other types: their need to be good. most enneagram types don’t fully care about being morally correct, but ones do. a ones natural nature is to strive and reach for the stars. and though it can be depressing to think about, the life of a one can actually be incredibly beautiful. ones are rare because most people aren’t natural-born leaders with the level of self-reflection (when healthy) to see who they are, and what their morals are. ones change and define the world, and everyone around them to be better. ones often see something nobody else does: good in people, how to improve, etc… despite being rather emotionally rigid, ones can have some of the highest emotional intelligence levels, because of who they are. if a one can work past that fear of not being perfect, allow the icy surface of their heart to melt, a one can love like sanctification and revival. a one sparks life in everything they touch, because when they commit— it’s out of nothing but a want to be good.

info dump: enneagram type ones are second most likely to experience melancholy, second to type fours.

⋆ ☄︎.·˚ * 🔭 - I love ones, and I love being a one, if you couldn’t tell. reach for the stars, ones! we’re some of the only people who’ll try. I know the inner-critic drives us all mad, that the need to be good enough— and never seeming to reach that— is over-arching and doesn’t ever leave. but, someday you’ll be seen. and even if you don’t fully grasp that now, know that your fellow ones will always understand: because we see deeper than most.

[hellospriggan]

*steeples fingers in front of face and exhales slowly*

I'm just going to present this story time in bullet points, because it's pretty clear how rubbish this day has been without extra embellishment.

Woke up with a migraine (took medicine, felt better eventually)

Got kids breakfast; Griffin did not like the banana bread, took some time to find a substitute. Eventually got him fed.

Had to rush through getting ready for school due to second breakfast.

Got outside early for the school bus, because it was five+ minutes early yesterday and we nearly missed it.

School bus was not early

School bus was not on time

School bus was late

This mattered more than usual, because Gwen had an eye appointment at 9:45; the plan was to get Grif on the bus, go back inside to grab our stuff, and immediately leave.

Bus is 10 minutes late, I call it. I can get both kids in the car and drop Grif off at school on the way.

Right??

We get inside, Griffin has a meltdown over missing the bus. I assure him he's still going to school.

Gwen needs the bathroom.

I realize we are not going to have time to drop off Grif, or we'll be late for the appointment. What do I do? Do I reschedule it for the second time (because we were sick two weeks ago) and Get Griffin to school on time?

Meanwhile the school bus rolls up fifteen minutes late, opens its doors, and waits. And waits. Then it meanders off on its way again, while I seethe at the window.

I have a small panic attack. Gwen asks me if I'm sad and I actually cry, and she gives me a cuddle. Okay, I'm good.

I tell Griffin he's going with us, and I'll drop him off at school AFTER the appointment.

Griffin cries. Get him calmed down, get all our stuff, get outside.

Realize the car is locked. Where are my keys?? OH FFS they're locked inside the house.

We're going to be late to the appointment now, too. I try to call the office, but there's no cell reception at our house, ever, so it will not connect.

I get the emergency spare and get in the house and get my keys.

When I get back out, Griffin is crying because he has decided this whole thing is somehow his fault, and that he's "the problem". My heart breaks and I tell my son he is NEVER A PROBLEM. We both cry.

Get the kids in the car.

Half a mile down the road, the car sickness sets in, and I spend the next 30 minutes wondering if one or both kids is going to barf.

Maps app is on in the background, but not actually working. Luckily the directions are simple and I remember the way.

Have my husband, who's at work, call the school AND the office to let everyone know we're late.

No one barfs. We get there fifteen minutes late.

Gwen has her eye test. She's wearing glasses right now to correct eye crossing due to nearsightedness, and there has been little enough improvement that I now need to have her wear an eye patch.

Griffin shows the optician the page in my sketchbook that he's covering with multiplication; I take a deep breath and remind myself that he's missing a morning of kindergarten, a week before summer break, ie board games. And that he can fucking multiply. It's going to be fine.

We eventually get out. Everyone needs the bathroom.

Get out to the car, check the time, and realize that we'll make it back to school halfway through his lunch IF we're lucky, and he won't have time to eat.

I make the executive decision that we're having donuts for lunch, because we fucking deserve them. Well look, there's a Dunkin right across the street! I can even do drive through and not have to get them out of the car seats again! (It is amazing how much of a consideration that becomes, but it adds so much time.)

We do drive through, and the person keeps asking me over the intercom what I want, even though I keep begging for a moment to look at the menu.

We order donuts, lemonade, and coffee. Pay, tip handsomely as an apology for my (I think understandable) lack of organization, pull into a parking spot to feed everyone. We have no straws.

I jog over to the window and ask for three straws.

He gives me two. I ask for another. I get four total.

I spill coffee on my foot.

We eat donuts, and they are splendid. I hope no one barfs on the way home now.

No one barfs. It's close, again. (If he does throw up, he's not allowed at school. Understandable, but another thing to navigate.)

We get Griffin to school, right at the end of his lunch period. He's very cranky about how this day has gone. I have also forgotten to pack him a snack, and donuts are not very sustaining. Hope he makes it.

Gwen and I stop at the produce stand down the road to buy fruit, and go home. I think more about car seats, and if there's a way to calculate how much of my life as a parent has been spent dealing with them.

At home I refuse to stand in the sun blowing bubbles for Gwen, and she gets mad. We have another discussion about how we're a team but at least half of this team is very tired. We go inside and watch TV instead.

My new notepads arrive, a bright moment. My website is still kind of broken, but cute stationary helps!

We were planning on going to the fireman's carnival tonight. Tomorrow is the last day. I really hope everyone is up to going tonight and that it's not the last straw in a busy day.

I think I'm going to take cute photos of the new notepads, work on my website, and honestly just let Gwen watch as much TV as she wants today. I struggle a lot to balance screen time for my kids, but I also try really hard to think about what I would need/want on a rough day, and not hold them to a higher standard.

I tried so hard to keep a positive tone on things today, and I was really open with them about the fact that sometimes things go wrong and it's no one's fault, but that DANG it's tough when it all seems to happen at once! We took several minutes in the car just all shouting "BUMMER!!" as loud as we could, and that helped.

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

With Entropy Effect's Early Access version releasing in just a few hours, I wanted to go over some of what we've learned from trailers, reviews, and sneak peaks that hasn't come up while I was analyzing the character spotlights.

Of course, do take time to note that I am writing this before even the early access version has dropped. What I discuss here may prove inaccurate to the game we'll get tonight, or the full release we'll see in the future.

Let's just have a little fun with some last minute speculation and analysis!

The gameplay visuals that we've seen so far have looked absolutely gorgeous. I love the character models and the way that battles turn into a light show. I'm a very simple creature, I can always be pleased with some colored lights. The environments and battle effects also look great- this game has very strong art direction. I mean, look at this!

Which really surprised me, and still confuses me, when compared to the artwork they've chosen to use as the face of the game.

Yeah, unfortunately we're gonna start this post with a little negativity, but it should be the last of it, so please be patient.

Or feel free to skip this rant, if you'd like to keep your coverage positive, or just read about what we know about the gameplay itself.

But seriously. What is this key visual. This is just the Central Fiction character select artwork!

Okay, correction; it's the Central Fiction artwork for most of the characters. Poor Hibiki doesn't even get his character select artwork, he's left as the odd man out with his CF story mode battle sprite.

And then there's Es! What did they do to Es!? I don't know enough about graphic design to be able to tell what happened here, but something about her face looks like they tossed her art, and only hers, through some kind of AI filter. She's been weirdly smoothed out and she looks way paler, and more gray, than the rest of the line up. This straight up hurts to look at.

For the first few months after Entropy Effect's announcement, I thought the game was fanmade, because all the key visuals they were pumping out were (and, thus far, still are) made up of the basic official art that appears as the first images when you do a google search of the characters.

How did this get greenlit? They really couldn't afford to pay an artist? I can't even say "they couldn't afford to hire and artist" because, looking at the gameplay, clearly they did! They hired some very good artists! Why not write one more paycheck to get some cover art out of the incredible talent they already have on board?

Okay, okay, SaltFest is over. Coping and seething have been reigned in. Let's get into the fun stuff.

Trailers so far have indicated that the story of Entropy Effect is original, with no clear connection to that of the BlazBlue series- although it seems to share a significant amount of thematic elements with BlazBlue.

The story looks kind of cyberpunk, revolving around a world filled with these little robot guys. Our main character seems to be called "ACER," though whether that's their name, a descriptor, or a title, there's no way to tell- at least, for a few more hours. Sources claim that, similar to BlazBlue's story, there are themes of a looping existence, looming destruction, and fighting to ensure the very existence of a future.

Something that stood out to me in trailers, but I haven't seen spoken about anywhere, are these things called "Phenomena Fragments." They seem to showcase scenes from the lives of human figures in this gray dust-like particle effect.

If I had to make any guesses, I'd say this looks like a post-humanity story, with our ACER using the BlazBlue cast within some kind of simulation.

One thing we do know is that the word 'Entropy' in the title will be integral to the plot, as some cutscene dialogue warns of an "Entropy Shoreline" that may threaten to bring an end to the world our protagonist lives in. The robotic inhabitants of this world also seem to have some kind of god figure, though not all of them believe in it.

Those who have played the game say that Entropy works as a mechanic in the game that increases the difficulty of the run as it builds. I'm interested to see how it plays into the story...!

The full truth of the story will remain a mystery, at least for another hour, but all reviews that have spoken of it so far have been very positive.

Now let's move on to take a look at some of the gameplay!

I saw this screen a while back, with what looks to be 30 available places for characters. At first, I assumed this meant that the game would have 30 different playable characters- I mistook this for a character select screen. Keyword being mistook.

Instead, it looks like the 30 slots on this screen are to save up to 30 builds from previous runs. We see the same screen again here, with two different versions of Lambda saved on it, and the other characters in different positions than the one above. As I'll discuss later in the post, previous runs of the game will be used to pass on certain skills to your next character at the start of a new run. So this screen will probably end up looking different for all players!

The real character selection screen loops, so there's no way to know how many characters will appear in the final version. However, the company has confirmed that there will be more than the seven we'll see in the Early Access version.

The seven characters playable in early access Entropy Effect are Ragna, Noel, Hakumen, Lambda, Kokonoe, Hibiki, and Mai. The games animated trailer (which also looks great, I don't know what happened with the damn key visual) also shows us Jin and Taokaka, who will likely be made playable with the full version of the game. Considering Naoto is the face of the game's Twitter and YouTube accounts, I expect to see him in the final version as well.

As for characters appearing as enemies, Bang's NPC subordinates from BlazBlue's story mode have been shown to appear as generic enemies in certain stages, and both Arakune and Susano'o have appeared as bosses!

After selecting which character you want to play as, you're taken to the screen I mistook for character selection, where you can select two characters you've played as in previous runs, called "Evotypes" in the game. You can have your new character inherit abilities from them- the number of abilities you can inherit from your chosen characters seems to depend on how well you've been doing in your runs, as each run earns some kind of grade. This explains how we've been seeing characters using one another's abilities, such as Hibiki using Hakumen's lightning, in the trailers!

While playing, you earn points called "Potential," which can be used between stages to purchase new abilities. This seems to be where characters unlock their movesets from the BlazBlue fighting games.

There's also a second type of choice players can make as they develop their run. These are called "Tactics." Unlike the abilities unlocked by Potential that seem to be exclusive to characters unless chosen as inherited Evotypes, Tactics are universal and can be purchased for and used by any character.

In a video on his experience playing the game early, Twitch streamer Veedotme says the game rewards you for selecting Tactics you haven't used before, so consider trying out everything before you start picking favorites! Veedotme's review also clarified a lot of what I comment on in this post, so please check out his work!

Interviews claim that the game's early access version will have roughly 100 Potentials and roughly 200 Tactics to choose from, though there could be even more in the final version of the game.

It seems that the early access version will include 10 different stages, with 13 levels each, along with a few other modes of gameplay such as a challenge mode were the stage bosses become even more difficult. I've mentioned it already in other posts, but I like this 10 and 13 number theming, as both numbers have been pretty important to the BlazBlue franchise. It's another sign of serious attention to detail from the developers.

And, well, if I want to get this post out in time to be able to watch some of the first streams go live, I'll have to wrap it up now. Thank you for reading, and if you're interested, please share your own experience with the game in the coming days!

[germiyahu]

They're not really upset about JK Rowling being a Holocaust Denier. They're upset that she's not centering the lgbt/specifically trans experience of the Holocaust. Which, why would she, she hates trans people?

These people have made their opinions clear: they don't care about the Shoah, they've spent months downplaying it, inverting it, weaponizing it against Jews. So why do they suddenly care? Because they imagine themselves the victims in this situation. If JK Rowling incorrectly assumes that books on gender affirming care/queerness were not burned by the Nazis, in these people's minds, that is tantamount to wholesale Holocaust denial. It doesn't matter if someone like her is emphatically not a Holocaust Denier when it comes to a specific lens of Jewish Genocide (she's never downplayed or denied that aspect). She is a HOLOCAUST DENIER!

I can sense the smugness in someone like Alejandra Caraballo getting to act like this is an unfathomable act of cruelty and violence toward the victims of genocide, when she and others like her have been on Twitter spouting antisemitic nonsense for months, proving they find joy and liberation in the murder of Jews for months.

But it really is just another form of appropriation. Most people know what "Holocaust Denial" entails, they know it's about Nazis trying to dismiss or downplay the number of Jews killed by the Nazi regime. But because victimhood is a large component of these people's identities, they seethe with jealousy that Jews' have "gotten" to be victims. This grants someone instant legitimacy and morality, especially on a site like Tumblr. If you're oppressed, you're a good person.

They're very insistent that Jews were not "the only" victims of the Nazis, because to shut the fuck up and take a seat is to admit that one of the greatest atrocities in human history was not primarily about them, in fact, it wasn't about them at all. The number of them who actually descend from queer survivors is outrageously small. This is wounding to the ego. They want to gerrymander Jews out of the Holocaust. You can feel an almost excited energy coming from these people, a gratification and validation that they get to claim this experience, that queer goyim have an oppressor denying The Holocaust, which in this context was the genocide of queer people. Jews and Roma are not relevant.

I don't have a problem with people correcting JK Rowling, what she said was ahistorical. I do have a problem with them spreading like wildfire this breaking news that JK Rowling is an Official Holocaust Denier, and tacking on "and she made goblins antisemitic caricatures!" as a pathetic way to bolster their claims. See if she's also an antisemite then that means we're right! They've shown us what they think of Jewish people. They only care about themselves. But they know the optics of what they're doing, so in the midst of appropriating Jewish death and suffering and genocide, they'll make sure to include a token gesture. It's transparent.

It is very telling to me that people here seem more upset over JK Rowling being a Holocaust Denier now, as opposed to the 5+ months of bullying, harassment, death threats, rape denials, rape apologism, suicide baiting, doxxing, Holocaust Inversion, Hitler apologism, victim-blaming, dehumanization, gaslighting, and antisemitism in general that Jews have been dealing with since October 7th.

Leftists and Westerners only care about antisemitism when it is convenient for them to do so. 😒

[the-firebird69]

Couple of things they're actually cycling people back to the homes which is nice it's it's something they weren't doing it's really turning out to be better and the computer organizes it so it's a productive route and it takes a lot less time most of the time. They have to correct it a little but boy it's the Time saver and these guys know what they're doing now it's going to be a hot and sweaty afternoon because they want to drive him down and see if it's ready if it's not he can move to a next shelter and we kind of know what the status is it's not that flooded but it is the street is still flooded but it might move off we don't think so 2:45 p.m. roughly and there's going to be how much water trying to get in as is trying to get out two different temperatures but not very much different so they mix and it just sits there we're getting going on some stuff getting ready for tonight he probably will be somewhere else at a shelter hopefully with a cot

---there's other things that are very annoying they try and get a man all the time and he says I'm angry all the time congratulations and they don't know it so it's saying this stuff and he's already seething with anger and it doesn't make much of a difference so you keep on pushing it and he says I guess I'm going to have to control all that stuff and he means we're taking over and that's what we're doing we had a successful evening we're up to about 65% in the southwest of the Midwest about 35% in the northwest of the Midwest which is pretty good the stuff's kind of hefty there and we're dealing with repercussions which is good it makes things easier later than not very big but they're obtrusive specialists and they don't make it. In the general area surrounding our area we had 35% total and it's getting there all in all on average we have about 49% halfway there. And it's good and we have about 32% up and we will have a lot more the next couple days because of the new technique and freeing up the ones that need to do the super level which they're not that many but we have a lot of it so we're going forward with grabbing those and it's a great idea we need to heat it up and we found out we did

---couple other things we are facing an economic downturn if Trump is elected he swears and he's going to ruin it like the Mac proper want and we're going to ruin him. And the math proper of saying is not right and his information is old and he keeps hearing it from them and it doesn't believe them and he wants uses a threat whether they're playing it or not and a lot of them kind of go along with it because they want to beat the other guy and he is a disaster zone but it works as a formula for us but we have to control it.

More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues

You have a couple things to add the sheriff is all over the place here but it is their building and they are making sure it's secure and we do understand why

Hera plus but yeh

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS Fall - Chapter 25 - Part 3

BOOK TWO: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Sam Moretti

Waking up the next morning, I reached over, feeling for Noah but felt nothing.

I rolled over and found his side empty.

Sitting up with a frown, I scanned the room.

Usually he wakes me up when he's up, we take a shower together, then make breakfast together.

Is he still mad at me?

I groaned at the very thought and reluctantly got out of bed.

After going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I went into the kitchen and found Noah sitting at the counter texting someone.

"Hey," I greeted him as I pulled the orange juice out from the fridge and poured myself a cup.

"Hey," he replied, not once glancing up from his cell-phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

"Texting Westley." he told me honestly.

My heart fell to the bottom of my stomach.

"Westley? The same Westley you met at the bar last night?" I query in an attempted neutral tone.

Noah nodded.

"You gave him your number?" I asked incredulously, my voice rising in anger.

Noah finally looked up from his phone.

"No, he put his number in my phone," he corrected me, matter-of-factly as if that made a difference.

"He's also the one who texted you to pick me up last night. He's not a bad guy, Sam."

"He's also not your boyfriend," I countered.

I wanted to scream at how insensitive Noah was acting.

Noah sighed in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can we not argue this fucking early in the morning?"

"I'm sorry but do you really think it's appropriate to be texting the guy you let kiss you while you were drunk?" I asked bitterly, giving him a look that said... are you dumb?

But he wasn't paying attention to my pointed look as he was 'still on his cell-phone'.

He finally looked up from his stupid phone but his eyes shone with irritation.

"And you thought it was appropriate to talk to my mother, who I haven't seen in over ten years, without telling me about it?" he shot back at me.

I slammed my drink down, spilling some orange juice.

"I said I was sorry about that," I exclaimed.

"I'm confused. I thought we talked this out last night? How many times do you want me to apologize? I'm sorry. I made a mistake but it was unintentional and don't fucking act like you never make a mistake when we both know, damn well, that you do," I yelled.

I was furious.

I messed up by not telling him and I get that but what he did last night was crappy and not okay.

I couldn't stop yelling at him.

"How dare you text some guy all nonchalant as if you're unaware of how much that hurts me. Me screwing up, doesn't give you a free pass to act like an asshole and fuck around with people," I rarely swear, so when I do, you know I've surpassed mad.

Noah scoffed.

"Are you comparing me flirting with a guy as big of a fuck up as you keeping a major secret from me? Do you know how fucked up you were for keeping that a secret?"

"I'm fucked up? It wasn't just that one guy, Noah, you letting Jude flirt and come onto you is just as bad."

I didn't know why I brought that up but we were both furious at each other and yelling, so I didn't care.

"Holy fuck," Noah groaned in annoyance as he dragged his hands down his face before looking at me.

"Are you seriously still on that? We're just friends. Jesus Christ."

"Yes, I'm still on that," I seethed as I walked into the living room to grab the sketch book I found last night.

It was still open to Jude's drawing.

"Because why the hell do you have a drawing of Jude?" I questioned, going back into the kitchen and throwing the sketch book down I'm front of Noah.

"It was for Art class," is all he said.

"Really? For Art class you had to draw Jude shirtless?" I asked sardonically.

"Sam. Fuck. It's just a..." Noah's sentence stopped short when he reached across the counter and grabbed to post-it note that his mother left for him yesterday.

'Shit.'

"What the hell is this?" Noah asked me.